Bitches love the cheddar

Let Julia Allison be a lesson to you

There really isn’t such thing as “internet fame.”

And if the closest you come to achieving this elusive and temporary state is to become a somewhat well-known in a relatively small Midwestern city, well, don’t let it go to your head too much.

The fall from stardom won’t be a long one, but it won’t be pretty.

Make sure you have a few friends left to catch you when you do eventually start to tumble.

Dodged a bullet

My ex-boyfriend has adult braces and named his child after John McCain.

What the fuck was I thinking with that one?

Things I am sooooo over:

Pretentious fuckers who make zero effort at friendship, douchebag local musicians and the douchebag “non-profit” organization that basically just spams its supporters all day long, people who work at local ad agencies and have zero clue about social media, Aneesa who is apparently 37 and still goes on Real World/Road Rules challenges and has the emotional maturity of an 11 year old, men who wear jean shorts, my job, people who take every opportunity to point out when you are wrong/if they said something first/be bitchy on the internet, doing the motherfucking dishes.

This day.

Has pretty much been absolute shit. I cried in front of my boss (awesome), dealt with some assholes over the phone (also awesome), and generally felt bloated and awful.

And then my best friend emailed me to tell me she started her period. TMI, I know, but - what the fuck - she’s the only person who reads this blog. So the funny/weird science thing about best friends is that by some womanly miracle shit, you end up on the same cycle.

Suddenly the fact that my boobs feel like they weigh 87 pounds and hurt like hell makes a lot more sense.

It also gives me license to make a pizza and drink too many margaritas tonight.

“I have PMS” is an excuse as old as time. It’s my very favorite one.

Sharted.

So there is this guy who, for the sake of not totally blowing my cover, shall remain anonymous. He is planning a trip to Disney World and created a Twitter account so people could follow his mundane updates about buying sunscreen or whatever the fuck he talks about (I don’t follow it because I actually like mental stimulation).

So this guy, who we’ll call Sharted, also bought a brand new car recently. And a new computer. And then he found out he got a role in an off-Broadway play (which I’m pretty sure is more like an off-off-off-Broadway play) and started raising money so he could head to New York for a few weeks or whatever.

Hey fucker - here’s a thought. Why don’t you skip Disneyworld, deal with your shit computer and older car and pay for it yourself.

You’re not raising money for cancer. You’re not donating your time to feed the hungry. You’re not even picking up fucking trash on the side of the fucking highway.

You’re asking people to shell out money to pay for YOU to go to New York City and live it up for a month and act in a fucking play.

I hope it’s just like that really awful play that Smith Jerrod starred in during an episode of Sex and the City. You know - the ridiculous play where he wore overalls and ended up dropping trou in front of the audience. I hope you pull your pants down and people vomit.

Sweet anonymity

This is the part where I stopped being polite and started getting real.