SHIT I HAVE NOT MANAGED TO ACCOMPLISH IN THE PAST THREE DAYS:
Fixing that broken car door handle
Doing that load of laundry
Doing that second load of laundry
Ordering new glasses
Picking up that one rogue sock from under my couch
Answering that email
Answering that other email
Answering all the emails
Solving world hunger
Reading that book someone loaned me eight months ago and probably wants back
Proficiency in a foreign language
Buying a wedding gift for those friends who got married in January
SHIT I HAVE MANAGED TO ACCOMPLISH IN THE PAST THREE DAYS:
Showering regularly
Running dishes through the dishwasher
Watching the pilot episode of “Game of Thrones”
Going viral with a blog post on the internet
Reading all the comments on aforementioned viral blog post
Freaking out about it
Calming down about it
Showing up for work on time
Eating
Sleeping
Breathing
Accidentally killing another houseplant
Buying groceries
SHIT I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD JUST GET OFF MY CHEST:
I started this blog as a way to make my friends laugh, and also because I kept writing super-long and complicated facebook updates, which nobody really wanted to read. I cannot stress this part enough: I wrote that last post while watching “Game of Thrones” and eating a grilled cheese sandwich. The previous record-breaking statistic was 194 hits. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to read it.
As of a few minutes ago, this blog has been viewed over 286,000 times.
SO, YA KNOW, NO PRESSURE.
Seriously. I’m eternally grateful and overwhelmed and very excited and more than a little confused by the attention. I’m not really the funniest person in the room, ever. I’m usually like… maybe the fourth funniest? If I had to choose? (But Katherine, you ask … how many people are in the room? What if the room has Tina Fey in it? This is a terrible metaphor!! Does this even count as a metaphor?! See!?! This is why I’m always number four!)
I dunno. I was in a weird mood, and I wove a tapestry of profanities and published it to my little ol’ personal blog because I was in a momentary funk about those dumb self-help articles, and here we are. It’s super weird. AND AWESOME. I mean. This is AWESOME. You guys like me, you really like me!**
And then there was this brief moment where I started to feel obnoxiously self-important about it, like, “Uh, you know, I’m like, a big deal on the internet today,” and then a seven-year-old girl farted incredibly close to my face. It’s a long story***, but … well. Perspective.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, this is super cool. Thanks for reading. I will now resume my regularly scheduled updates, where I will tell you approximately whatever’s on my mind, and I will post them approximately whenever I feel compelled to write. I guess that’s how blogs work. Ok. I’m done now.
No, wait. THANK YOU. I wanted to make sure I said thank you. Ok. Now I’m done.
*I KNOW. Puns are such lazy writing! It’s just…. all I got at the moment.
**Except for those of you who don’t like me, and told me so in the comments, and that’s totally okay. A lot of what you’re saying is valid! For the record, I don’t think my ass is that fat, but I’m sure I have some pants in the back of my closet that would beg to differ. I have a ton of vegan friends who don’t judge me for eating meat, but I understand why you might. And you’re right, I was kind of hating on blondes for no reason! I used the word ‘fuck’ a whole lot – that IS kind of lazy writing! Again. I was really not expecting anybody to ACTUALLY READ THIS.
For those of you who want to date me: uh. Okay. I’m super bad at dates, but – I – oh, god, now I’m so nervous. Don’t date me. I’m sweating a lot just thinking about that. For those of you who want to be my friend: SURE! Let’s be the kind of friends where I don’t tell you my home address quite yet, since I’m new to this internet thing and I hear you’re not supposed to do that. But eventually? Totally. Let’s be besties. For those of you who want to take me to an island paradise vacation: Uh. I mean. You’re not a serial killer or into anything too kinky, right? Hold on. Let me just scribble down my number. Wait. I’m not supposed to do that either? Fuck.
Also, I’m reading that last post again, and … you know, I could go into more about how “Do whatever the fuck you want” is actually NOT a synonym for “Eat a fucking cheeseburger and watch Netflix until you shit yourself on the couch, you purposeless waste of human existence,” but I think most of you understood that. And frankly, I don’t feel like writing any more about it right now. BOOM. Taking my own advice!!
***The story isn’t actually that long. I sometimes work with kids as part of my job, and kids fart, and this girl happened to fart as I bent down to pick something up nearby. That’s the whole story. It was a silent but deadly one, too. And there’s nothing quite like the feeling of realizing, as a big ol’ fart wafts right in your face, that you’ve put yourself out there to thousands of strangers as the girl who challenged everyone to laugh more about farts and a kid just farted in my face and I just honestly don’t know if I want to laugh or cry about this. (I sort of wound up laugh-crying later on in the bathroom, but it wasn’t directly related. But that fart sure didn’t help things).
Ok. For real. I’m done for real this time.