Life as a teenage girl...
...or, as a teenage girl's father. The following blog excerpt encapsulates a day in that life and so much more. I'm pretty sure it isn't a send-up and it's legit. If true, I think she can write. What do you think? The only setup needed - it was written on Valentine's Day:
thanks, dad, for ruining the whole day for me at 9:30 in the morning. he comes in, shouts at me for watching TV (i've kind of been watching a lot lately, but who gives a damn? that's what the TV is for, isn't it? dumbass) and then a few minutes later he runs out to his car, tells me to close my eyes, and dumps this big huge furry thing on me. me, being the idiot that i am, hope and hope it's another dog and then he's all "open your eyes" so i open them. and it's the cutest, whitest, fuzziest stuffed gorilla ever, holding a pink heart balloon. and then i feel like crying. but i didn't, becuase i promised myself i wouldn't anymore. thanks, dad, for pretty much rubbing it in my face that i don't have a guy and that i'm never gonna get one, that he's gonna be the only one who'll ever love me and care enough to get me something for valentine's day, that i'm alone and there's a million people out there who've got a hand to hold. that's all i want. i don't even want to make out or show off that i've got a boyfriend. i just want a guy to talk to, a guy that makes me feel like i can be myself, like i can talk about anything in the world. i've found fragments of those things in a bunch of different guys, but i never let myself get too close to anyone, and even if i did and i got my hopes up about someone liking me, i know i'd be crushed eventually because no one's ever liked me like that. and if anyone has, tell me now...it's pointless to keep it locked up. i'm not the kind of bitch who would start ignoring you or being a bitch to you just becuase you like me. i'd be immensely flattered. but no one's gonna fess up cuz no one likes me. thanks dad, for letting me see all this. and now i've got a giant white gorilla with a giant pink balloon staring at me from my bed. i want to burn it. but then my bed would burn too and i wouldn't have anywhere to sleep. *starts eyeing the couch* and now i've got to go and work. a lot. i've been out all weekend and i've got one day to catch up on basically a week's worth of homework. wish me luck.
Life as a pope....
...as reported by the current Weekly World News. He's moving into the Papal Bomb Shelter, under the Swiss Alps, to await Armaggedon. Life was so much sweeter when Bat Boy was the lead story we could relate to.
Life as a woiker...
I missed a SF bloggers' soiree last night, because I had to work late. This job thing, I don't know. Hope it was a good time.
...or, as a teenage girl's father. The following blog excerpt encapsulates a day in that life and so much more. I'm pretty sure it isn't a send-up and it's legit. If true, I think she can write. What do you think? The only setup needed - it was written on Valentine's Day:
thanks, dad, for ruining the whole day for me at 9:30 in the morning. he comes in, shouts at me for watching TV (i've kind of been watching a lot lately, but who gives a damn? that's what the TV is for, isn't it? dumbass) and then a few minutes later he runs out to his car, tells me to close my eyes, and dumps this big huge furry thing on me. me, being the idiot that i am, hope and hope it's another dog and then he's all "open your eyes" so i open them. and it's the cutest, whitest, fuzziest stuffed gorilla ever, holding a pink heart balloon. and then i feel like crying. but i didn't, becuase i promised myself i wouldn't anymore. thanks, dad, for pretty much rubbing it in my face that i don't have a guy and that i'm never gonna get one, that he's gonna be the only one who'll ever love me and care enough to get me something for valentine's day, that i'm alone and there's a million people out there who've got a hand to hold. that's all i want. i don't even want to make out or show off that i've got a boyfriend. i just want a guy to talk to, a guy that makes me feel like i can be myself, like i can talk about anything in the world. i've found fragments of those things in a bunch of different guys, but i never let myself get too close to anyone, and even if i did and i got my hopes up about someone liking me, i know i'd be crushed eventually because no one's ever liked me like that. and if anyone has, tell me now...it's pointless to keep it locked up. i'm not the kind of bitch who would start ignoring you or being a bitch to you just becuase you like me. i'd be immensely flattered. but no one's gonna fess up cuz no one likes me. thanks dad, for letting me see all this. and now i've got a giant white gorilla with a giant pink balloon staring at me from my bed. i want to burn it. but then my bed would burn too and i wouldn't have anywhere to sleep. *starts eyeing the couch* and now i've got to go and work. a lot. i've been out all weekend and i've got one day to catch up on basically a week's worth of homework. wish me luck.
Life as a pope....
...as reported by the current Weekly World News. He's moving into the Papal Bomb Shelter, under the Swiss Alps, to await Armaggedon. Life was so much sweeter when Bat Boy was the lead story we could relate to.
Life as a woiker...
I missed a SF bloggers' soiree last night, because I had to work late. This job thing, I don't know. Hope it was a good time.
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