After reading my latest blog installment, a friend of mine told me today that if I didn’t relax, I was going to have a heart attack. Sound harsh? Maybe so, but it got me thinking. Here’s the materialization of those thoughts in word form.
I’m old. You may not be surprised by this. I wasn’t shocked initially either. Then I realized I’m old and judgmental. I already know I’m going to catch shit for this; I’ll buckle myself in now.
I see people post things to various media forums and I’m shocked at the lack of modesty. I’m not a fucking prude by any stretch of the imagination, but for fuck’s sake, if everything out of the void you call a mouth is about being horny you’re not leaving much to the imagination. You’ve also just told me that you are essentially about as bright as an 18 yr. old boy. Congrats on that. Now, I will admit that usually I’m pissed because it’s a chick and she has a nice rack – but c’mon ladies…show us what ELSE you’re working with. Men, you’ve proven susceptible and too gullible to be taken seriously. Also, if I have to look at one more sideways ball-cap, torso bathroom picture, or bicep photo in any manner, I will perform my own hysterectomy with a butter knife and a Flowbee. Like I said; I’m old and judgmental. I’m no longer suitable for social media.
The other thing I came to understand is that I am pretty empathetic. Don’t everyone choke on whatever the fuck it is you’re shoving in your face at once. Please don’t confuse empathetic with pathetic. While it’s true that I’m both of these things, the point I’m attempting to make is this: I feel deeply for and with others. I’m emotionally kicked in the teeth when people are in pain, when they’re happy I celebrate with them. I’m a fucking sponge and it’s miserable and fantastic. Depending on the news that day, I can spin into a depression for a few days if I’m not prepared and not practicing self-care. I spend an inordinate amount of time pretending that I don’t give a fuck and you don’t matter. The truth is, it all matters and it all hurts. I think that I’m attempting to defend myself. In reality, I’m just a tiny human with really big feelings in a really shitty world. I’m basically a two year old – a two year old with a fucking foul mouth.
I give a shit. I give a shit about what total strangers think about me. I don’t know why - if I did, I’d turn that button the fuck off. I’m concerned with my appearance; not because I want you to think I’m hot like those bitches on the internet, but because I’m terrified of being the fat kid in elementary school again. The woman I am today picks her nose in traffic and takes shitty selfies on purpose. I’m concerned with the people that I care about. Do they have enough? Do they need anything? Can I do anything to help? I’m concerned with social programs in my city and state – fuck the rest of you assholes; take care of your own. I think I give a shit about keeping my job. It will depend on if that one guy decides to talk politics at the watercooler again like a dicknose tomorrow morning. I seriously can’t take that shit anymore.
I don’t really know where any of this is coming from or where any of this goes. Maybe if I die of a heart attack, I just want people knowing that underneath all this piss and vinegar I really do have a heart. If you wait till I’m done yelling about you whoring yourself out on the internet you might hear me say that you’re so much more than that and that you can do anything you set your heart to. Just kidding, quit being such a whore and tuck your tits back into your top. I keep getting random dick pics because dudes assume we’re all the same when you open your cock pocket and say dumb shit. Ok, now you can send the hate mail.