Growl. I am a fat, lazy, good for nothing slob of a person who just wants to sit on her fat, lazy, good for nothing ass and eat Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels all the live long day.
I am morally, ecumenically, and grammatically against New Year’s Resolutions. I’m just not making them anymore. I can’t think of one New Year’s Resolution – not a fucking ONE – that I’ve followed through with in the past. So, what the hell is the point? There is none, I think. None at all. And I’m all about the not doing of the pointless things.
My mirror mirror on the wall tells me in no uncertain terms that all of this ass-sitting and caramel-eating is causing me to start to resemble a candy apple with two popsicle sticks stuck in its bottom. Not a flattering look for me, I assure you. My brain feels thick. I am no longer quick on the uptake. I have a soul-sucking lack of energy. It’s hard to be smart – which is a problem, for me. I’m a smart cookie and I pride myself on all of my Smarty McSmartypants-ness.
I feel like we’re starting to get over the hump, attitude-wise. It’s not happening fast enough for me, though. Depression, she is a bitch, and doubly bitchy when BOTH
Calvin Bill (dammit!) and I suffer from it at the same time.
I’ve had enough, though. ENOUGH, I tell you (me). Enough wallowing, enough whining, enough sleeping for hours on end and not getting shit for nuthin’ done. It has been a completely POINTLESS way to spend the last two months, for the love of FUCK. I swear, I get so frustrated with my own damned self it’s enough to make me want to cut a bitch.
This weekend, I will get Caught Up (and unless you want a list like last Friday’s to become a weekly thing, you’ll just trust me when I say I have a SHIT-TON of SHIT to do, with all the SHITTINESS that ever SHAT a SHIT – some of that being literal, right there.). Next week I work from home on Monday, then have to deal with Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday (which will be a short day, I bet). Off on Friday, then on vacation for the following week. And during that time, BY CHRIST, I will get my motherfucking ass off the motherfucking couch (channeling Sammy J, there).
This nonsense is STOPPING RIGHT NOW.