|Probably because I have two pillow pets.. that my kid isn't allowed to touch. SHE HAS HER OWN STOP JUDGING ME!|
I forget to do it. A lot.
And I never really have anything to say.. most days. It always seems like the post-it pile of ideas is mocking me.
"You wrote all these stupid ideas down, and now what? You're not going to write about them, so why did you waste paper?"
"Shut up, pile! I will TOTALLY write about this stuff.. eventually. Whatever, like you know me? YOU DON'T KNOW ME SO DON'T JUDGE ME PILE! ... I need a hug. I'm not writing about that shit -- it's all stupid. No one cares. OHMYGODI'MAFAILURE!"
I could write about my financial troubles in a hilarious way, sure. But would anyone care? Probably not.
I could write about my divorce, but really? Come on.. you don't care. I know you don't. Who wants to hear about two people who should've stayed friends, because they make the WORST. MARRIED PEOPLE. EVER?
I could write about how I lost my job at Raspwire because we didn't get enough traffic, but that's just lame. No one is going to hire me to write anything else after that, I'm sure. It's not like I write in any kind of REAL format or anything..
I could write about lots of things, but I never do. I just.. put it off. I then text the professor something stupid, and he replies (because he's the shit and doesn't want me to feel like I'm a TOTAL loser), and then I sit and pretend to be doing something important for a while.
Did I ever tell you that we take the kiddo on treasure hunts in the woods? Because, well, we do. non-Husband will take her, they will bury something (always the same thing, really) in the case that is supposed to hold my car radio face plate thing, and then we go dig it back up the next day.
Yeah, I know, totally lame.
Um.. I made some pretty awesome cookies the other day? No.. I'm not even going there.
OH! I got a bunch of stuff from Tillys.com, and it's all awesome. Bad ass headphones, Easter dress so I'm not the idiot in skinny jeans and a blazer again.. sunglasses.. shirts.. shut up.
And this is why I suck at blogging. Also, reason #459 that it's impossible to live with me. I HAVE A LOT OF INNER TURMOIL.
#218 is the obnoxious singing in the shower.
Okay, okay.. I'm done. Carry on.