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What the hell are you bitchin' about? I gotta sleep under some Chinaman named after a duck's dork.
I've started and erased and started and erased this blog about 10 times. Honest. It's not that I don't have anything to write about - it's just that I was trying to come up with something other than my normal crap for you to read on such a dually celebratory day like today. You know - Easter AND my birthday. I find that I'm so tired all the time that it's hard for me to focus on even being creative, especially at 9ish at night on a Sunday.... that sounds so pathetic, doesn't it? 9ish and I'm exhausted? Puh. It's because of all the partying I did this weekend.
Yeah. Uh huh. Sure. That's it.
You can't really pick up on my sarcasm, can you? It's hard to read tone in a blog. Maybe if I use italics.
Yeah. Uh huh. Sure. That's it.
Does that seem better to you? Eh. You still can't tell. Plus, no one ever takes me serious anyway. Sometimes it's rather annoying... I try to tell someone something non-jokingly and they have that look on their face like they're waiting for the punchline. Sometimes I just don't have one, ok? My life isn't one big fun-fest for your benefit... I have problems and stress and anxiety just like the next guy. I'm even on a few meds to prove it.
Wow. This blog suuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.
So, 33 years ago I was born 9 weeks early and weighed in at a whopping 3 lbs. It was probably the only time in my life I was actually underweight. Sadly, there aren't even any photos for proof, because I'd totally carry that around in my wallet and whip it out from time to time when skinny girls are always talking about their size 3 jeans and their lack of ability to gain weight. I'd be all "oh yeah?! Well, look at me in the newborn ICU... I was so small I almost died! So I win!". But, I didn't die. So there's that. Yeah, something is wrong with me, I admit it.
Don't you hate when skinny people talk about how they "can't gain weight"? Whatever. That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in my life. It's not that you can't gain weight, it's that you don't bury your feelings of inadequacy underneath mounds and mounds of chocolate and fast-food. Like I do. Gaining weight is as simple as losing weight. You take the amount of calories your body burns (which for you tiny folks, isn't much) and then you eat more than that and don't move a whole lot. I'm like an expert in this, people. I could be the anti-trainer. I could be hired by skinny people the world over and I could come over your house and TRAIN you to be fat, lazy slobs. Only, I'm probably not motivated enough to come to your house. Maybe I could just lure you to eat more over the phone. Or through this blog.
Why are you even still reading this garbage?
I hope you all had great Easter celebrations with your families or friends. I could tell you about mine, but I'm going to bed instead. Maybe tomorrow. I apologize for this entry being short, dull & most likely, filled with grammatical errors. It's my birthday and I just don't care.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
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Labels:
birthdays,
grammatical errors,
premature births,
recipe for gaining weight,
skinny people who complain about gaining weight
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- "they"
- 1980's work-out leggings
- 2011 was the strangest year ever
- 2012
- 4th grade book report
- a blog about knitting
- a list of stressors
- a pet monkey
- a recipe for Salisbury Steak
- Air Supply
- Anasocoria
- And that's how Karen Carpenter died
- Andrew McCarthy
- Angela Lansbury
- Angelina Jolie pooping
- Arizona
- artwork
- Asian porn
- Augmentin
- Baby Sinclair
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- bathing
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- Being a nurse
- being grateful
- being nice
- Beyonce
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- Black Friday
- blah blah blah
- blow-up donkey
- Bolivian Stew
- Bruce Willis
- Bugles
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- cheesecake
- Christmas Donkey
- Christmastime
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- dem O's
- diet
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- divorce
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- Draw something
- drunk Jess
- drunk pirates
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- Einstein
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- feeces
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- food
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- gluten
- Golden Girls
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- Guam
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- Happy Birthday to my brother
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- high school reunions
- holidays
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- Hot Latino from Brazil
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- Jim Brewer
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- ketchup
- Kristi
- lazy calves
- lesbians
- life lessons
- LL Cool J
- love
- low self esteem
- Mail-Order Brides
- making fun of rap
- Married with Children
- Martha Stewart
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- meditation
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- Michael Jordan
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- Motorcycles are death machines
- MS
- MTV
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- Murder She Wrote
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- pagers
- Paleo
- parenting
- peanut butter
- Pepsi vs Coke
- personality disorders
- perversion
- pilgrims
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- poop
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- premature births
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- shaving
- shoes
- Siamese Twins
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- skin cancer
- skinny people who complain about gaining weight
- sleep deprivation
- slutty prom gowns
- smoking
- smoking weed
- Snickers bars
- some year in the 1980's
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- Spray tan
- St. Patty's Day
- stick figures
- stupid Maryland weather
- subdural hematoma
- Sudafed and Nyquil
- superbowl 2012
- Taco Bell
- tankinis
- tartar sauce
- the Catholics
- the end of the world
- the fat guy from lost
- The Jeffersons
- The Jonas Brothers
- The Maury Povich Show
- the rape of student loans
- The Tea Party
- therapy
- things that annoy me
- thong underwear
- Thor
- time machines
- TMZ
- tooth fairy
- tsunami
- Tummy tuck
- turkey
- TV
- ugly sweater parties
- vacuums
- Valentines day
- Vaseline
- Vietnam
- welfare
- what fun is poking if you're not even touching?
- whiskey
- Wyatt
- Xanax
- You must be super bored.
- your momma so fat jokes
- Zachary
About Me

- Jess
- I'm just a girl with a dream. Actually, that's not true. I'm an old lady and my dreams have pretty much faded away. But, for whatever it's worth, I still feel obligated to go on living. Sometimes I think too much and too long about things that it seems like no one else cares about besides me. I can't decide if this makes me a better person or doomed to live an anxiety riddled exsistence. Somewhere in the midst of all this craziness, I became one of those people who obsesses about her kids. Look at them - wouldn't you be crazy about them if they were yours?
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