i miss the cardigans

People with young children can be so boring.
I dread the day that my closest friends and I all turn into responsible adults. I just know that they'll start popping out the babies. And then I will find myself in homes, gazing down on little so and so and whispering about the cute things that they did earlier that day. How can people talk about this shit for hours? Honestly.

I can't possibly hate children that much, but maybe I do. I mean, I appreciate their cuteness. I am constantly amazed by how quickly they grow up. But I don't care about how he picked up a phrase and now he uses it all of the time. I don't care about how you had to pry his filthy Pooh blanket from his stubborn, grubby little hands so you can wash it. I don't think that there is anything particularly special about a toddler spelling his name. Maybe because my brother, sister and I were doing long division way before I was even in the second grade, thanks to my crazy father. Your kid will not floor me because he's just a little bit ahead of his reading level. Show me a five year old that can play a concerto and then I will grudgingly admit to his wonderfulness.

People, there are a lot of things that make your child special., sure. But I don't want to hear about all of those things. Not for hours. I don't want you to force your child to dance to the guy that sings about apples and bananas on demand like a prize show dog. I don't want you to make your kid kiss me goodbye when I didn't even ask because I can think of eleventy-six more pleasant things that could possibly be happening to me at that precise moment. But most importantly, stop trying to tell me that your kid is smarter than every other kid in the world. Stupid people come from somewhere, okay.
/rant

My closest friends have recently become obsessed with the idea of marriage. One of them in particular talks about it like us and all of our former female classmates are participating in some sort of race. While it would make for a lovely reality show, I prefer to not be a part of the madness. I don't even want to get married anytime soon. I reject domesticity; don't they know that? I, unlike most of them, have not had visions of the perfect dress. I don't care about the time of year that it should happen.

But everytime we get together, it's like, "Did you know that Monique was engaged? And Margaret? Marika's getting married in the summer. Hannah is pregnant and she's getting married next month. All I know is, if Warren proposes to Rosaline before John proposes to me, I'm going to be really mad." Whoa. Way to give a shit about Rosaline's happiness, there. Then hostile eyes turn to me, like I'm hiding a fiance under my skirt and the inevitable, "With my luck, you'll fall in love tomorrow and be married in two months," is spat at me with irrational contempt.

God help me find a world where a twenty-two year old is still just a twenty-two year old and I'm allowed to care only about my beer, the fate of my thighs and In Touch Weekly.

i like big butts and i can not lie

I am a terrible blog person. Maybe my ego won't let me post because I don't think that anyone is paying attention. Or maybe my life is too good. When I'm enjoying life, I tend to prefer living it to documenting it. But that is a gross lie. Because I'm not exactly loving life. There's something about supporting my mother and being preemptively dumped that is less than enjoyable. The short-lived almost romance between Hot Lawyer and I is over. Turns out that like every other man I meet, he is married. They were technically separated but he wants to give their marriage another try. There's something about his honesty that makes me want to sleep with him anyway. Just kidding. Well, not really. I'm just saying.

I have nightmares about losing my teeth. Not one by one, but all at once. Like, I dream that I'll wake up and all of my teeth will just be gone. Totally bizarre, I know. But to me that's worse than waking up bald. I mean, a girl can buy hair, you know? But teeth? I wouldn't leave my house if I had no teeth. And I don't have a billion dollars to replace them. So I would just stay home in tears. With no job because the whole, "Sorry, I can't come in because my teeth fell out," thing would get old pretty quickly, I imagine. Maybe its my dentist phobia? Its like every dentist is creepy, now. Or the fact that my health insurance doesn't cover dental? I don't know. I just can't ever lose my teeth. At least not before I hit 67.

If one more guy tells me that Lindsay Lohan looks hot now, I will vomit on him. No for real. Because, no. Gross. She hurts my eyes. Remember when she was actually cute? I miss her.