Before we begin I should warn you this post is all about me. I know; I’m bored already too. But we can do this; I have faith in us. So let’s strap on our rubber boots and soldier through the sewage of my life together, shall we?
As I’ve mentioned before I've been doing the whole crappy college thing. My 4.0 GPA managed to survive my last shitfest of a semester (I’m sure you were all on pins and needles) but I left a big question mark on whether I would drag my whiny ass back in the fall.
Before the winter semester ended I decided (while on the toilet, of course) to spend my summer writing and flooding publications with my freshly shat stories. Between my glamorous gig as a customer service bitch and teaching a toddler to wipe her own ass I figured I had only enough time to spend on one more thing, and I had to choose between writing and school. Or sleeping, but I gave up on the whole notion of beauty rest years ago. Giant purple bags under the eyes make a person seem more interesting. And unapproachable, which is the style I strive for every day. I get along a lot better with other people if they don’t fucking talk to me. But I digress.
I’ve endured enough dung drawings on the walls of public restrooms to realize that shit doesn’t always go according to plan.
The majority of my summer of self-discovery thus far has been spent curled up in the fecal position in the black bottom of the bipolar bidet, yet somehow I’ve still had a few refreshing blasts of water shot up the ass of my “writing career” in the form of an acceptance letter from a publisher and the opportunity to soil some other websites and blogs with my pointless poop. In fact, if this trend continues I might almost feel comfortable enough someday to remove the quotation marks when I reference this little shit-slinging hobby of mine. (Doubt it.)
Although, before all this encouraging excrement started flowing my way I had already made my decision. (Oooh, the suspense!) I’m not returning to school in the fall. I have too many conflicts and the biggest one is my little turdlette, and I’m not about to tell her she can’t take dance class because Mommy’s too busy making up for the decade she wasted on being wasted.
Plus, college kids are really fucking annoying. All that “let’s change the world,” hopeful-for-the-future crap is likes tacks on a toilet seat for a cynical asshole such as myself. I need to get away from those people before I start putting feathers in my hair. Or smiling. Or worst of all… listening to fucking John Mayer. <shudder>
I guess my point is (this is the part where I scramble to pretend that I had one all along) that while I’m not going to be getting all smart ‘n’ shit anymore, I’m going to keep writing out of my ass. It beats talking; that involves other people, and other people are gross.