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42+ Days Since My Last Blog Post – Where for Art Thou Readers, Bitches?

Dear Literate Citizens of First World Countries,

The time has come for me to address you. I think it is safe to say I have lost all of the fans/organ donors I once had as result of this blog. It’s been a month and a half since I have posted something new and frankly I don’t blame anyone for jumping ship at my shoddy attempt at blogosphere stardom. I have let myself, my country, and my libido down.

I will not attempt to explain away my neglectful inaction; for there are no words sufficient in definition, or multisyllabic enough in pretentiousness to appease the disillusioned cries of my reader(s). I will instead use a method of defense learned only from experiencing the deeply trenched heartache of an abusive relationship: I will pretend that it never happened.

…So anyway, these past six weeks have been like, so totally, epic. I mean FAIL! What???? Oh no! Like everyone else I seem to have forgotten what those words meant before social media subculture belittled their worth and true definition. Are you lost? Get ready, suckers. I haven’t updated in 42+ days. Not much is going to make sense tonight.

It is November, for which I must say I am pleased. September and October were straight up bitches, headed for the must kill shelter. Here are just a few things that went down:

-I quit my job. Yeah, that’s right. The one I formerly bragged about with my great salary, private office, and increasing self importance. I quit. Why? Because when you live in a nation with a 10% unemployment rate, and you move 900 miles away from home and find a well-paying, professional job in three weeks, the only logical thing to do is quit without finding another one first.

this girl is clearly just a ho

-I left Tennessee and moved back to Pennsylvania. Yeah, that’s right. I threw in the towel on my Southern adventure right in time for winter. Why? Because when you live in one of the warmest regions of the country, the only logical thing to do is leave the everyday sunshine of a 70 degree fall

climate and move back to the north; the place responsible for your semi-annual contraction of bronchitis and daily weather-related depression. My tongue sticks to everything during a Pennsylvania winter and not just because I’m promiscuous, wink, wink ;)…sizzle.

-I found God in Kentucky. Yeah, that’s right. God resides in Kentucky and let me tell you, he is busy at work. Not only did he arrange to have several billboards of the Ten Commandments erected along the h

...as I cross into Ohio

ighway, but like the great debater he is, also followed up with a reminder of what is to come if we do not follow said commands with 10×10 billboard images of Hell and a “Welcome to Ohio” sign.

-I drove through Ohio. Yeah, that’s right. ALL of Ohio. First night I stayed in Cincinnati. Oh, Cincy. What can be said about thee? Cincinnati is like my waist: bigger than you would expect, but not something anyone is going to enjoy. Next stop Cleveland. For those of you who are not well-versed on Ohio geography, Cincinnati is in the southwestern corner of Ohio, directly diagonal to Cleveland in the northeastern part of the state. I had to drive five depressing, rainy, hours through Ohio, because I insisted on visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Now when I say I “insisted” I am lying. I didn’t insist. There was no one to insist to! I was alone, as I often am in life, love, and the bedroom…. FAIL! Lolz. What? Anyway. I arrived at the Hall o’ Fame, or “the hall” as the locals call it (no locals call it that). I spent 3 ½ hours there only to find an entire hallway dedicated to Jimi Hendrix and not a single window display for Bob Dylan. I am still composing a strongly worded letter to this so-called “establishment,” hoping to disembowel them of their title. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Jimi Hendrix. His seven minute career was very impressive. But Bob Dylan has penetrated the holes in my heart, impregnating my soul with his words. No person has ever loved another as much as I love him, not even Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries. Fail!

Edie Sedgwick

-I have started to wear leggings, tights, or as I like to refer to them “fat highlighters.” Yeah, that’s right. I am “trendy.” However, before the unfashionable tar and feathering occurs, let me explain. I like to wear dresses. I wear them all the time, along with pearls, leopard print shoes, and 74 coats of mascara, so I can walk around pretending I’m a fat Edie Sedgwick. But during the winter months, my pasty legs can’t handle the elements. So I did the only logical thing – bought black tights! After all, nothing is more Edie than black tights, aside from highly toxic amphetamines and Lou Reed’s penis; both of which I am yearning to acquire.

As for the other 42+ days I was not writing, I can only account for some of them with the following activities:

-30 hours spent at Occupy Nashville

-2 hours spent watching “Kim’s Fairytale Wedding.”

-14 hours spent watching reruns of “Kim’s Fairytale Wedding.”

-Undocumented amount of hours spent smoking hallucinogen

-15 hours driving to Pennsylvania

-30 minutes eating a gas station taco salad in Cleveland.

-1 ½ hours a day watching Judge Judy with my mother.

-Infinite amount of hours regretting my TV watching and wondering how anyone could find me lovable.

But now that it is November, things are bound to change. I am applying to graduate school for next fall, have joined a gym, have rejoined the local writer’s group I rely on as my sole social outlet, am attempting to finish my novel before the year’s end, and spend my afternoon’s crying to reruns of One Tree Hill.

Still unbalanced, still writing, still the girl with the blog.

Love,

The girl with the blog that is never updated because the girl happens to be a lazy a**hole.