Life has handed me enough lately, and it's time to get real. I need to express my true self, which is something that simply cannot be done on Facebook (without consequences, like my elderly aunts trying to pipe in and help, or people expressing genuine and loving feelings of condolence, and/or sympathy, or my aunt Pauline responding uncomprehendingly in all caps to my sarcastic post a year and a half later and thereby opening the floodgates of unwanted responses all over again.)
Then I remembered this blog, like a beacon of hope. THIS IS WHY I CREATED IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!
And now it fills me with joy and a slight bit of disgust to tell you this:
Apparently I post too many things about cats on the Book of Face because someone that I know, or used to know a long time ago, but am a barely acquainted with now online, posted what you see below on my timeline.
What the living fuck is this piece of shit? She kinda sorta thought I might like it. Jesus fucking christ what have I become?
I'm hoping to recover from this blow to my self image, and apparently my public image in which I have become seriously uncool. I have become a crazy cat lady. I have become the kind of person who would kinda might like that bag. I refuse to believe this, and yet I also vowed when I saw it to stop posting anything about cats for a very long time, or perhaps never again.
I'm also hoping to start posting here more. I'm thinking I need it. I'm thinking that it would be a really good thing for me to start converting the ugly poisoned thoughts in my head into something sort of funny, and thus turning negatives into positives, or at the very least neutralizing the situation.
Oh my god. That fucking bag. What the shit, dudes?