Monday Musings

• Today's Groupon was for a subscription to eHarmony. Like is the whole world on this fucking dating train? Am I officially becoming an old maid? Is my shelf life expiring? What the fuck is with everyone and their fucking mother (including my matronly coworker and a discount website) encouraging me to just put myself out there? If I wanted to be out there, I'd fucking be out there. Assholes.
• If you're in Atlanta, go to Shamrock Fest. Or don't. I don't give a fuck one way or another. 
• If I have to cab it, pay for parking or anything else that requires massive amounts of effort, it ain't gonna happen. 
• Charlie Sheen is like the gift that keeps fucking giving. And giving. And giving. My favorite gem to date is his response to Good Morning America when they told him people think he is Bipolar. "What is Bipolar? Try BIWINNING." And then he cackles. He does have a point though when he says if he was bipolar wouldn't he have massive swings between being up and being down? All this motherfucker does is go. I like to imagine his theme song is All I Do Is Win. If he was writing the script for Three and a Half Men, I'd totally fucking watch that shit. My second favorite conversation? Same interview. He talks about how Nike's slogan isn't just try it, it's just do it. And like them he's just doing sobriety. Boom.
• Why is baby fat cute on little kids but then fucking disgusting on us grownups? If I were a kid, I'd be fucking attractive with all this flab.
• Sometimes I wonder why God didn't give me a talent that might be useful to me. Like one I could use to make money with. And why he didn't maybe give me a lick of common sense so that I wouldn't be $8000 in debt right now. But he didn't. So that's where we're at right now.
• Dear Pirate's Booty, I love you. What I don't love is paying all that money for your delicious bounty only to end up eating a majority of it in one sitting. Also, what the fuck is with all the SPACE/AIR in your bags of booty? What a fucking gip. You make me think I'm getting a crap ton and once I open the bag, I realize, NO NO NO. There is not shit in there.
• I'm in a funk right now. The kind of funk where I'm just snapping at someone who definitely does not deserve it. But then part of me wonders if I'm not really in a funk but rather pushing and prodding to see just what my boundaries are with this person. I have a feeling this cannot end well. And by not end well, I mean I'm very easily going to ruin a relationship via text. How 2011 of me.
• Why can't I just sit on a patio all day and drink? Why can't I?
• People share the most ridiculous shit on facebook. I don't give a fuck what your political thoughts are, my Jesus and your Jesus are clearly not the same, your baby is not any cuter or more specialer than anyone elses, Fox News is not the authority on life or anything else really for that matter, and you're single/married/complicated/divorced whatever because you keep posting desperate status about it. Grow the fuck up bros and bras. Tell me you're slamming booze or patio drinking or stripping or kicking as in kickball or watching your team win. Don't tell me stupid shit no one cares about. And the bra color, stripper name whatever the newest Spam to hit my messages is not any better. You're not 12 anymore.
• This is going to sound incredibly stupid (omg I AM a fucking girl), but I really just want to curl into a ball and cry today. I have no idea why. Nothing bad happened (how could it, my boss is out of town). But nothing great happened either. And I'm lonely I think. I'm not even sure anymore.