Do You Want to Build a Snowm–I Mean Write a Book?

I’ve seen Frozen three times, cut me some slack. 

Also, my laptop is about to die so this whole post may be a jumbled crapball. I COULD go downstairs and get my charger but shut up already, jeez what’re you my mom? Oh? You ARE? MOM STOP READING MY BLOG, GOD. 

But I digress.

I’ve been meaning to smash a bunch of my essays together and wrap some hard plastic around them and call it a book, but I’m going to take the time and energy and make it my best. The overall theme of it will be the tragedies in my life, infused with my own sick sense of humor, of course. I have some (true) stories, if you could voice your opinion on what you might like to read?

Some toupées: 

I mean topics:

1) Worcester, MA- Part One-In which my friend and I get chased by a homeless man. SPOILER: He jerks off on the car.

2) Worcester, MA- Part Two-In which we did not learn our lesson the first time, so we get caught in the crossfire of two rival street gangs. (Yes, guns. Bang, bang, shoot-em-up.)

3) The Dentist-Part OneIn which the dentist drops his drill and I attempt to swallow it.

4) The Dentist-Part Two– In which the dentist removes my wisdom teeth and also part of my nerve, leaving my face numb (forever).

5) The Accusal- In which my fellow kindergarteners accuse me of stealing the markers and drawing on the walls. But did I really do it?

6) Vacation From Hell: Mexico-In which we have no money, no clothes, and are driving with an insane man that only speaks in Beach Boys lyrics. 

7) College Graduation– In which I am in my driveway at 8:30am. Graduation starts at 9am. I am an hour and a half away. Do I make it in time? Some factors: My mother having diarrhea, makes me stop for anti-diarrheal medicine, I knock down the display. Does she shit in my car?

Those are just some of the stories I’ve wanted to tell for a while. Let me know!

K love you or whatever, my twinkling stars. 🙂 


Belching Bride

Yay! Usually I write out and proofread my essays first, but hey- you know, you’re cute. I’m going to work Doug Funnie stream of consciousness for you. But only you. Shh no more words. My turn. Don’t forget to lock the door and turn the AC on high.

The other day I was necking with a honey BBQ sandwich at a fine local eating establishment, when my mother and I got to talking about weddings. Now considering that most men are repulsed by my, *belch* ‘scuse me, by my forwardness, “wedding” is a delusion from WEtv that David Tutera is going to come to my house, pay for everything, hand sew my dress, and be my BFF. However, the topic came up and it was revealed to me that my mother has been hiding money away for my wedding. I use “my wedding” loosely, as the thought of it makes me “lawlz.” Although I am terribly humbled that her sweet/naive mind envisioned me as a blushing bride, I had to tell her to please take that money and either invest in it in the scented candle business, or to buy off the waiter who just told me he liked my “rockabilly” look. Either way, that wedding fund should be making interest for the next 5-10 years, figuring I get the corrective surgery and physical therapy I need for my hunchback that has been forming since the 2nd grade, after I caught my teacher stealing SunChips out of my RugRats lunchbox. I digress. The moral of the story kids, is that your mom, dad, guardian, caretaker, or whomever, does very nice things for you, even if you don’t know. It still doesn’t change the fact you’re never getting married and that you’re a disgusting slob with Donette powder caked under her fingernails, but at least it’s nice gesture.