Oh Facebook. You totally care enough to ask. THIS is why people update all this needy stuff all the time like XXXXX XXXXXX is: FEELING A LITTLE DOWN 😥 ….Barf
Things that have actually gone through my mind in the last 24 hours:
Is it wrong that I don’t remember the names (or faces) of more than half of the people who’ve ever bought me flowers? Morally speaking? Do you think people who have bought flowers for someone else remember it eternally, like a testament to their long-lost unrequited love?
Why does self-tanner have to smell like microwaved chicken? For that matter, why have I chosen to live in a country that requires that I apply self-tanner? At what point in life can I move to a beachy tax haven? Do you have to already have secret millions for that?
Would I start shagging a prominent psychoanalyst in order to obtain free brainscanning? Would the fact that he’d be a natural voyeur mean it’d be a perfect match because I would constantly talk about myself and he could just take notes and act superior? How ridiculously would I have to act (exponentially from current levels of ridiculosity) to get the coveted diagnosis of “Self-Loathing Narcissist”? Would I be sectioned before I had time to get it on a T-Shirt?
Is it weirder to post a picture of your baby as your profile pic on FB or your dog? Which is grosser as a life-concept to own/Which would more likely force me to throw myself in the Thames?
Who are the people who keep asking Google the same questions over and over about me, and why are they so curious? Why not just ask? (You know who you are. Seriously it’s so much weirder for my blog’s search terms to ask me. Do you not know that’s what my Formspring account is for? Anonymous questionize yourself to death, already.)
Is it justifiable to have one of those kinky rubber gimp sex-people come in and clean my house while I ignore them if I really really hate cleaning? Is this a recipe for MURDER? What if I hid all the knives first? Also, if I managed to sell my housemate on this, would kinky rubber gimp-maid have to change in-house or would they arrive suited and booted? Would that be super awesome or super mental, or would it just BE… like part of the deal for having a sparkly-clean oven? Could I specify I want fresh flowers with each visit? What if the rubber-gimp-cleaning-maid fucked up utterly and brought CARNATIONS but was otherwise great at cleaning while being ignored – would my pride prevent me from keeping him on?
