I’m sitting here with all of my blogging essentials: no pants, nacho cheese doritos, a ho ho (that literally was just shoved into my mouth whole), a giant tootsie roll, a full bag of gummy bears, a giant glass of milk, and Roseanne blaring in the background. Game on!
First let me apologize for my math skills. The 100th post isn’t until next Friday. Woopsie! I totes understand why no one wants to hire me now. A girl in finance who can’t do simple addition is what they see when I walk through the doors of their company looking disheveled with a slight merlot musk seeping from my pores. I actually had what my be the most depressing moment of my job hunting experience today, even worse than not getting hired into the phone call factory at Gargles Swab. There I was sitting in my bed going back and forth with myself about putting on pants to go pee and wondering how much longer I could hold it so that I didn’t have to put on pants for another 5 minutes when my phone rang. I looked at the screen and didn’t recognize the number. Normally I hit the eff you button and see if they leave a voicemail but before I could do that they hung up. BEFORE IT EVEN WENT TO VOICEMAIL. So I’m thinking I wonder who the eff that was and get on google to search the number. Well it came up as a company I had recently applied to, so I’m thinking hmm maybe they got busy or someone beeped in and they hung up and will call back later. I sat here waiting for another call for close to 3 hours and never got it. Or an email. I’m taking it that they made a mistake and called me instead of the person they were really interested in hiring and figured it out after two rings. Sigh. I can’t live in my parents house and be promotional model forever. Someone has to eventually hire me so that I can get married. To myself.
My weekend was pretty meh. I had to work with the Captain on Friday night and after I got 90% of the way home he calls and asks me to come over. UH NO tard banger. And I know you are all still sitting there on the edge of your chairs waiting for me to hop on here and announce that I followed through with The Plan. I still totes want to do the plan but I honestly don’t know if it’s going to happen. I’m starting to get annoyed with him, like gum on the bottom of my shoe annoyed. But, never fear if I can’t tie him to the bed blind folded by god I will make it up to you all, some way some how. Even if it means dressing up my cat and my sister in funny costumes and bribing them with tuna and candy to act out Romeo and Juliet The Feline Version for me to take pictures of, you will leave satisfied.
Basically right now my life consists of no men and playing school and dolls with my sister every night, which kind of makes me feel like Oprah because I am spending time with kids. Speaking of Oprah, I stopped listening to tv (I said listening not watching, mute button + Gizzy = BFF4L) so that I could be more like her. When I was watching Oprah the other day she had The Sister Wives and their deadbeat lame excuse for a man of a husband on there talking about their fucked up situation, and she told us that she doesn’t watch tv “for obvious reasons” but that she might have to start because who doesn’t love a man married to 4 women with 13 kids of his own and 3 step children and his first wife of 20 years threatening to take another man to bed, I mean shit doesn’t get much better than that and Oprah knows it. So then it’s like wtf Oprah, you’re too good to watch tv? So, I went to my #2 google to find out why this is and came up with nothing. I decided that Oprah doesn’t watch tv because she pays people to watch it for her. I mean am I right or am I right? So Oprah if you’re reading this, #1 can you hire me to be your tv watcher? And #2 what do you do after you and Stedman do the nasty and you’re lying in bed drinking your vino and smoking your ciggys? Have a conversation?! Ick!
Also speaking of playing school with my sister, I was thinking back to when I was little and when I would play school how I would tell all my dolls, “OK! It’s time to grade all your papers to see who is smart and who is STUPID!” And I would give all of the pretty dolls 100% and all of the ugly dolls with scuffed up faces F’s for being ugly and then send them back a grade so I didn’t have to teach such stupid dolls. But OF COURSE the next year, I always had the stupid dolls back in my class looking more scuffed up and stupid than ever. I mean I don’t know, honestly I’ll probably have some really stupid kids and karma will be like, “HAHA! Shouldn’t have treated your ugly babies like shit!”
Anyway, I did do something semi-cool this weekend. My mom, sister, and I went to this place to play with baby tigers so these are the pictures, lets see if you notice A TREND in all of them, other than mine and Ella’s blurred out faces
Notice the fat little pube head in every effing picture?! Christ. I basically wanted to smack this kid in her face and if I thought I could get away with it without going to jail I would have. When we left, my mom was listening to me bitch about your royal fatty and saying, “Oh Gizzy, she was just a kid, she doesn’t know any better.” Well you know what? Ella knows better and I knew better at that age, so somebody should teach that little troll to know better or I WILL!
So, this is what happened, the queen of munchkin land over there kept complaining that the tiger liked me, Ella, and her non-troll sister more than her because it kept coming and sitting on our laps instead of hers. I told her maybe it’s because she smells like vomit and cottage cheese and the mom/grandma/aunt/social worker whatever she is was pretty appalled by the comment. I mean I’m sorry, I know she is a kid but she’s not my kid so I’m not going to censor myself because telling the truth isn’t against the law! She smelled like vomit and cottage cheese and someone should throw her in a trough of soap and rubbing alcohol and let it do it’s job. Then once she realized she stunk like ass she sat in the corner and screeched that she wanted to go look at other animals. But every time my mom went to take a picture she had to stick her fat troll arm in it. I know this probably sounds insensitive BUT the family had another child who couldn’t have been more than a year older than the vomit fairy who was completely able to akrite and was polite and waited her turn to play with the tiger (which was first, by the way, before mine and Ella’s turns.) My guess is that the dad raised the first one and the mom raised the ham, because the mom was a whiney little biotch too. It’s women like that who don’t deserve husbands. They should be shunned to whore island and made to gather berrys and grapes for cool girls like Lucky and I to have fed to us by guys that look like The Captain. Either way, that fat little midget was annoying as hell and I would’ve loved nothing more than to take her by her pube hair and swing her fat head into the wall. AND she had a unibrow. I mean what the hell, I know she is probably like 5 but wax that shit, there’s no need for it, and I’m sure other kids at school are saying, “OH look at vom face she has a caterpillar crawling across her forehead HAHAH CATERPILLAR HEAD!” I’m only trying to help.
Which reminds me, I usually try and censor myself around my sister because I’m sure eventually she’ll get made fun of for the gaps between her teeth and she doesn’t need me at home traumatizing her more. I know I did, and my mom refused to get me braces so that it would toughen me up and teach me how to take criticism, and yeah eventually my teeth straightened out but elementary school was hell. Not only did I have crooked gap teeth I also had giant white rimmed glasses and wore oversized sweatshirts to hide my developing booberries. I remember the happiest day of my life was when a guy in my art class in 7th grade called me flat chested. It proved to me that wearing 6 sports bras and strapping those puppies down with ace bandages was starting to pay off.
But anyway, right after my sister started kindergarden she got lice and shortly after my mom killed them all she asked to play with my hair so I let her but made the comment, “Let me get my brush, I don’t want any of your lice up in my business,” and that’s why I don’t deserve to be a fertile mertle and have kids of my own. I’ll have to adopt kids, older ones, who will let me buy their love. This is also probably why I’ll never get married. I pretty much do the same thing when it comes to anything sexual with guys like, “EW! Get that sperm away from me!!!!”
Looks like it’s time for me to go twitter with Kelsey Grammer and then check the bed bug registry Lucky showed me earlier today and see how many of my friends are infected so I can shun them off to whore island too to be with the other pests.