Dear Future Leslee,
I want to write a blog for you, filled with magic and rainbows and dick jokes and pictures of me getting mauled by small furry animals but life doesn’t always turn out the way that you plan, y’know? At the same time, I do kind of believe in writing for its own sake, or to keep the blood moving to my fingers, or to remind me that I am loved and supported by many people who seem to be willing to put up with my enormous, endangered-blue-whale sized ego.
Truth is, as an only child (look at me! Look. At. Me. Loooook at meeee! lookatmelookatmelookatme!!!!!) I need stupendous amounts of attention or I pretty much shrink and wither like that nectarine you’ve had sitting in the bottom of the produce drawer in the fridge for six months. Thank god, the internet is willing to pander to me. Certainly, I know very few people besides me who get excited about their junk mail, because look at all the emails I’m getting! Why yes, I WOULD like to learn about hot senior Christian singles in my area!
All this is to say that yes, I am writing you a post, and yes, it is pretty much about nothing at all, but I hate leaving this blog for too long because I’m worried that if I don’t keep flapping my arms and squawking everybody will forget about me.
So! Welcome to the laziest post I will ever do, complete with crippling insecurities!
Things I have entirely too many of:
-CDs that don’t play
-complicated opinions about online dating
-clothes for sex even though duh, lingerie is itchy and stupid and you’re only going to take it off, anyway.
Things I will never have enough of:
-Predictable and ultimately meaningless gender-proscribed materialistic desires!
-Recipes involving zucchini!
Things I used to have and kind of miss, even though it is psychologically unhealthy:
– A Craigslist stalker*
-A meaningless, low-wage job that I could blame all my problems on
-‘Frenemies’ who made me feel like a good person because at least I didn’t sleep with so-and-so’s boyfriend and then post it on Facebook
-An addiction to bad anime
Things I have gotten wrong:
-Said: “Employee pricing”. Heard: “Demon-y pricing”
-Sign read: “Cinnabon”. I read “Cannibal”
-Tried to say: “I found a weird nickle”. Actually said: “I found a weird nipple.”
-For years I thought that Harry hooked up with Seven of Nine on Voyager, and when I found out it was actually Chakotay I realized that my mind was basically sappy and unreliable Swiss cheese.
* * *
In other news, yesterday I was making spaghetti and I picked up the bag, not noticing that it was open at the bottom, and spilled spaghetti everywhere. When I finally cleaned up the mess and tried to put the pasta away I picked it up from the other side, and that’s when I realized the bag was open at both ends and also lost my faith in God. First world problems, folks.
Sorry I don’t have anything better for you than stories about pasta and lists about basically nothing. I have a French test next week and I’m mad stressing about that, and also today my boss interrupted my work to make me print labels for her, which I failed spectacularly at, FYI. Then I had a fight with the new fax machine which included me calling the staffing office and using the phrase “emotionally damaging encounter” which, to be honest, is how I could describe every encounter I have with technology. Or the staffing office.
Don’t get me wrong, the new machine is sexy as all get out. It prints, copies, faxes, and even scans documents. It is arguably more valuable than I am and possibly better at multi-tasking. But don’t let the shiny facade fool you: that Hollywood glamour cannot hide a heart so rotten and cruel that it suddenly changed its default paper setting to ‘Bond’ (WTF is ‘bond’ paper anyway?) and screwed up every computer on the unit.
It’s trying to get me fired. And it will probably succeed.
Love and kisses,
*Edit: I interrupted my Sopie and her manfriend’s sexy all-shirt dance party to make them come read this, which naturally resulted in a request to explain the nature of ‘Craigslist stalker’. Basically, there was a guy who came around my work back when I had a low-wage meaningless job that I could blame all my problems on and he wrote some really creepy “missed connections” posts about it, asking me to marry him or seduce in our storage room.
He also wrote that “[my] face could launch a thousand ships….ten thousand, if there were that many ships” and this bothers my Sopie immensely because who doesn’t know how many ships there are?! To which her manfriend replied that indeed, he himself didn’t know how many ships there were.
“But obviously there are more than ten thousand.” – my Sopie
“Well yes, but maybe he was thinking of a specific type of craft. Like ‘not canoes, your face is too good for those’.” -the manfriend
“I would argue that there are more than ten thousand ocean-going vessels.” -my Sopie
They then asked why I would miss this Craigslist man, to which I replied, of course, “Because I liked the attention.”