Twittering
Flickring
I'm a systematically disappointing spin-off of the best friend you'll ever have and the worst enemy you'll ever make. I hate the third month of the year, I love Betty White, I fear old age, I'm a decent writer, an okay pianist, a terrible jack-in-the-box of puns and tear jerking one liners, and I can't dance.
I make every error of human reasoning, I don't break promises, I'm not a solipsist, I can't waste time, I'm a hypocrite, & a flirtatious cornucopia of cliche causes and ironic effects. My heart and my head are the same like in shrimp, and I'm begging just begging to get my heart broken by the next Byronic hero that walks by.
Give me a polar bear, and I'll give you my soul-which is nothing but a blissful reminder of why you miss childhood, and a spinning vortex of stinging insecurities and paralyzing self-doubt.
Following
Listening
Turn that Profound Upside Down
- As I find myself randomly sitting in my mom's kitchen with just a bra on eating melted cake from a box.
- Me: It's so weird where I end up sometimes.
- My mom: Oh, you mean, like, you end up so far from where you start?
- Me: No, it's that it's irony. My whole life is just so ironic. Everything that happens is just either severe irony, or unfortunate, amusing circumstance. You know?
- My mom: It's like my life. The other day, when I was going to Occupy Boston, I wanted to wash my shirt with the American flag on it. And I did just a load of my laundry, and I checked everything when I did it, and then when I went to take it out of the dryer, one of Fran's shirts had SOMEHOW gotten in there, and it said "Where's My Bailout?" and I thought "Oh that's perfect I'll wear that!" So I mean, that stuff happens.
- Me: ....no, that's not...that's not what I was saying.
- My mom: Well I mean, it may not be IRONIC...but it WAS weird.
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