Monthly Archives: April 2012
I need some goals in life. Goals more impressive than leaving my contacts in past 11:00 pm.
So I’ve decided that for the month of May I am going to write a blog post…
Ok, it’s not as dramatic as the caps lock and high frequency of periods would indicate. But it is a goal. A real one. Not like that time I said I’d stop eating like a pig and hating myself. I actually have a game plan:
I am going to blog every day. On the days I don’t want to blog, I am going to either
A. Post pictures of myself in various states of dress on my Linkedin profile, thus destroying future career prospects to serve as a reminder of my failure to achieve my goal.
B. Stop crying like a bitch and write one anyway
Because in reality, this would not be an impressive goal to achieve. Lots of people blog everyday! Not me. I am too busy doing more important things like microwaving slices of American cheese and crying for no reason.
This is going to be like, so totally validating for my existence. Yay.
The girl who even when alone is embarrassed every time “Bare Naked” by Jennifer Love Hewitt comes on her iPod.
This isn’t a real blog entry. I just have something that must be said.
Today while frittering away my youth on the Internet I came to a profound realization. Every time I decide I want to browse ads for free Beagle puppies and hand jobs, I go to Craigslist. Every time I do this I type www.craigslist.com into the browser box. It never disappoints.
But today as I pounded each letter of the URL into the browser box in deliberate slow motion I had a thought:
ORG. Short for orgy or chemical-free fruit. Unsettling enough, my next thought was even worse:
“I don’t care.”
Click. Boom. The website soon appeared with its .com fraudulency and I was left feeling pretty pleased with myself. Take that Craig. I just made you my bitch.
But then I realized that somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew .com wasn’t right. I knew I was openly defying Craig and I kept doing it anyway.
Then I got depressed.
What kind of pathetic human being intentionally uses standard domain redirecting to make themselves feel powerful?
“Powerful,” you ask? Yes, powerful.
I felt like Napolean minus the complex; Achilles minus the heel, Tara Reid minus the shitty boob job.
Moral of the story:
I need more to do at work
The girl with an ass that quits
Arrogance is the laxative of humanity. It brings out all of the shit in people.
I believe, deep in my heart, that a truly conceited person is nothing short of despicable, a phrase I formerly reserved for Robin Williams alone. But today I realized that if I were arrested by Bob Dylan’s security team and stuffed into a windowless 10×10 room I’d rather 77 furry and infuriating Robin Williamssssssssss to keep me company than ONE of this twat:
Sure, on the surface she looks like any other woman suffering from serious constipation. But like I said before, arrogance is the laxative of humanity. So if one thing’s for sure, constipation is not her problem and her pants are likely filled with feces. But I digress.
I’m not simply railing on this woman because it’s fun, although let’s face it. It’s phenomenal. But in all seriousness, Samantha Brick, the woman, the writer, the revolutionary force behind “beautiful” women everywhere recently published an article entitled, no lie, “’There Are Downsides to Looking This Pretty:’ Why Women Hate Me For Being Beautiful.”
I know. Just, I know.
Now, obviously anyone reading this is more curious about what this poor woman looks like, than anything she actually has to say. Kind of like how people mute Jennifer Lopez music videos. So, much to the disappointment and satisfaction of every reader, it is somewhat surprising when the woman writing the “I’m so pretty I should just die” article is actually, kinda, sorta, undeniably average. A whaaaaaat???
If you read my blog you know I’m somewhat of a lesbian. Not really. But there’s about 17 women I’d go gay for in a second if given the opportunity. Emma Stone, Amanda Seyfried, Sophia Bush, SHAKIRA, Dear Jesus, I can barely continue typing…
Point is, I have never in my life hated a woman for being beautiful. I typically end up idolizing them to an unhealthy degree before accepting that face transplants are only reserved for burn victims or people like Jocelyn Wildenstein.
So when a lady starts spouting off about how irresistibly boneable she is, I expect big things and am horrendously disappointed when all I get is a bony, blond, constipation face. Straight trippin.’ But to be honest there should be less focus on her looks because no matter how good looking she is, no one should be in such serious self-denial to think that their looks are so astonishing that an entire gender has collectively decided to hate them. No. The focus of all ridicule should be on the fact that, deep down inside where it actually MATTERS, this woman is utterly hideous. Here’s how:
“I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being pretty — the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks.”
“I’m not smug and I’m no flirt, yet over the years I’ve been dropped by countless friends who felt threatened if I was merely in the presence of their other halves. If their partners dared to actually talk to me, a sudden chill would descend on the room.”
“And most poignantly of all, not one girlfriend has ever asked me to be her bridesmaid.”
“You’d think we women would applaud each other for taking pride in our appearances. I work at mine — I don’t drink or smoke, I work out, even when I don’t feel like it, and very rarely succumb to chocolate. Unfortunately women find nothing more annoying than someone else being the most attractive girl in a room.”
I can’t even finish this article without laughing hysterically. I mean, honestly, it sounds like either one of two things.
1. A parody, a joke, satirical non-humor, or something more believable than someone actually being this much of an asshole.
2. An EXTREMELY insecure woman whose mother once told her that the only reason people made fun of her constipation face was because they were jealous that they did not look as constipated as her, and therefore for the rest of her life had to tell herself that every time people decided they didn’t like her shitty personality it was because they were jealous.
While I initially assumed, it HAD to be number 1, I was indescribably delighted when she wrote a follow up article confirming that it was number 2, shit and all.
“While I’ve been shocked and hurt by the global condemnation, I have just this to say: my detractors have simply proved my point. Their level of anger only underlines that no one in this world is more reviled than a pretty woman.”
“If Brad Pitt were to say: ‘Yes, I’m a good-looking fella,’ then the world would nod sagely in agreement. But if Angelina Jolie uttered something along those lines, she’d be subject to the same foaming-at-the-mouth onslaught hurled at me yesterday.”
It’s like conceited **** comedy hour up in herrrrre (use your imagination to decide what word I starred out). I CANNOT get through this woman’s writing without taking a leak all over myself, metaphorically speaking.
While everything in this piece is pure gold, my favorite part is probably when she compares herself to Angeline Jolie.
See anything different about these two women? Anything at all? I know, like, how totally uggo is Angelina.
Let’s cut the shit, this woman’s inflated ego, ie. Insecure desperation to figure out why everyone she’s ever met hates her, says it all. But I’d like to say one last thing. Here it goes:
H-h-h-h-h-i, I’m-m-m-m L-L-Lena. Sorry, I’m just stuttering because I can’t handle how beautiful you are.
Ok, I’m over it.
I know the last 24 hours have been difficult for you. You not only plastered pictures of yourself all over the internet for people to judge and ridicule, (tough break, girl) but you also let the entire world know, at once, how much your personality sucks. Now that’s a total bummer.
Because let’s face it, woman to woman. Even if you were the super bionic attractive specimen of sex personified you seem to think you are, in the vapid culture you believe yourself to flourish in, looks fade with time. And when you finally look as haggard as all the women who just don’t understand how difficult your life is, you won’t have a great personality to fall back on. All you will have is pictures of your younger self and soon-to-be embarrassing globally consumed publications of vanity to prove, that even when you looked your best, you still were so intolerable as a person, that not a single woman wanted to be friends with you and all men valued you for were your looks. Because if there is anything women know, it’s that it doesn’t take much more than having a pulse to get a man to hit on you. But it takes being a decent human being to establish real friendships.
In addition, it goes without saying, that if you want to write an article about how tough life is, you might want to focus it on something other than being beautiful. Last time I checked, the global economy has collapsed, kids are being murdered in third world countries, and Two and a Half Men is still on the air.
Peace out, ya’ll.
The girl with a personality to fall back on.