Today, the single notable event in my life was that a woman driving a very cumbersome and hefty white van came to a complete halt in the middle of the road to gawk at my boots. They are fabulous, if I do say so myself, but seriously… I am always glad to be of service in the facilitation of vehicular accidents; perhaps if I have a hand in the death of enough women I may wiggle my way into being considered attractive sheerly through the process of elimination? My prospects are so brilliant, I shudder to think of them.
Actually, yesterday was rife with hysteria. I discovered that I can fit into my size zero pants (mind you, they are stretchy cords, so it’s cheating, but a zero nonetheless!) Then I donned my aforementioned boots and steered my oversized ass out the door to walk the dog. (To be exact, I was wearing exactly the same outfit as today. It’s so gross I can’t even talk about it, but I figured twice the same pants would be better that torn sweatpants, seeing as they served me so well in past encounters with the male gender!) Anyways, I passed the restaurant where the dear from the biking fiasco works, and I waved. And then, miracle of miracles, he came outside to talk to me. While he was supposed to be working! Perhaps he really didn’t see the forest of hair, and finds my odd behavior quirkily endearing. Fat chance. I suppose instead he is THE most forgiving lad of all time. I am in love. Anyway, he made an allusion to my being attractive, and then I made him laugh so hard he had told on to me for balance. He is officially going to drop by my house to hang out. I do not know how I manage it. Truly, it is a great mystery to be contemplated in times of mental boredom. In fact, my success with men is shrouded in such mystery that it could keep the restless people of the world occupied for all eternity. Oh yes. And some venture to say I have a flair for the dramatic. Such nonsense!
Also, an ex-friend came by to get a shirt of his that I have officially lost, and rather than get mad he just leered and gaped. His eyes popped out of his head, and I was like “please, put them back in. That is rather unattractive and gross.” I lost a collectors’ concert t-shirt and he just hit on me. Lecher! No, but seriously, you lose 15 pounds and the world is your oyster. Voila!!! C’est magique! Dear lord. It’s just ridiculous, but such is life. This is possibly the longest and rambliest post you have ever read in your lifetime. Forgive me. You asked for it, but I should warn you that I have a touch of logorrhea (word diarrhea). Reconsidering?
Tell me more. I shall keep you updated with more stupidity as soon as I can manage it!!!
Hello darlings,
How are you?
Let me take advantage of this opportunity to babble on long-windedly and idiotically about my life in which nothing happens. Except the most miserable things in the world.
My recent encounters with wildly hot men are as follows: my friend who used to love me and I spurned (only for him to become disgustingly hot and amazing, not to mention totally over me) told me that my sister is hotter than I am. Ah, good times… I was like, please excuse me while I go and weep silently in the next room!
Next, I was having a long chat with this super attractive and ridiculously cool guy that I am sort of friends with. Only, I was wearing torn sweatpants and my exercise sneakers which are basically orthopedic monstrosities made out of shining, light reflecting silver material with LIME GREEN accents. Irresistible, eh? Of course, let us not forget the trash-bag sized sweatshirt, glasses, and dirty hair. And now for the kicker! When I got home I saw that I had a huge white streak of cream on my nose (I’m talking ridiculous, zinc sunscreen-like cream) and chocolate on the side of my mouth. Splendid, I thought. Just marvelous. And I’m a clean eater, always have been, so what are the odds?! Lordy.
Also, and finally, I went bike riding with this guy who is, and I kid you not, the HOTTEST, most amazingly nerdy and weird and perfect guy you will ever meet in your life (he is best friends with the guy from said chocolate mouth incident). But alas, I was in full grunge mode, which entails a refusal to shave. Don’t ask, it’s just a weird thing. I gain weight, I get ugly, and I don’t’ shave. You know, to make myself more attractive. Christ almighty.
Anywho, as it’s the middle of winter, I thought that the underarm jungle wouldn’t be an issue since it was freezing. Low and behold, because the world loves me so, it became unseasonably warm and I was sweating so profusely that I had to remove my sweatshirt (which I couldn’t pull over my head for risk of exposing the lawn-like growth under my pits, so I had to just unzip it part way and squish it down really awkwardly round my waist. Super alluring, indeed.
But then I thought I saw him glance in the vicinity of my armpits, so I kept yanking down the sleeves of my sexy Hanes t-shirt like a fool, trying to cover up the hair. He just looked at me like I was from another planet. Who pulls the sleeves of their oversized t-shirt every three seconds? But then he moved to my other side and stopped to check out a bottle that was hanging from a fence. I had totally forgotten that the sweatpants I was wearing had a huge gash in the leg (these are a different pair of pants, in case you’re wondering. How sad, I know) which brilliantly exposed the forest that was my leg hair. Seriously, I mean, can’t a girl catch a break? Apparently not. So, there he was, with a clear view of my Cousin It/Big Foot condition. I bent over really weirdly on my bike to clasp my hand over the hole in my pants while trying very hard not to expose my armpits. It was not pretty. I believe there was a grimace involved. I looked like I was contorted from some kind of gas spasm. He was really concerned and thought that I was having some sort of cramping episode, but I just told him it was hard for me to balance on my bike when it wasn’t moving. He officially thinks I am the most hairy and retarded girl in the world. I just thought you might enjoy that. I am, however, making friends. I can actually fit in one pair of my pants. Joy to the world!
I hope you are not all in a state where you are smeared with cream and chocolate at inopportune moments and have protruding hairiness that just desperately wants to be seen. I’m off to bike away the pounds. In silver granny sneakers and shredded pants, no less!
Write me soon, my lovely friends!
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