Wednesday, February 22, 2012

My little family :)
When we're little we think life is so easy. We can do anything, we can be whatever we want to be. Well that is because when you are little anything is possible, the problem... Is when we think this, it's about being grown. Pshht be a brain surgeon that shit is cake let me get that scalpel real quick. NO CHILD IT IS NOT THAT SIMPLE. Maybe it is because we think we are so educated which I still believe some people who are very educated are really fucking stupid so it makes me feel like why should I go to school for 43280 look at Scotty and he's still a damn dumbass. To be perfectly honest I am not even sure why I'm writing about this because my intention was for this to be about how my dad moved to Mexico, well got transferred with his Company and I am really really sad about it. I guess my intended point was life was so perfect as a kid and then you grow up and you learn and things change and you get really emotional, or you don't. But since everyone knows I am an over achiever at being emotional we're sticking with that. I just want my Daddy. He doesn't even have to be HERE he just has to not be in fucking Mexico. And we're talking MIDDLE OF THE COUNTRY MEXICO NEAR NOTHING NO BEACHES NO TIJUANA NOTHING! What good is that to anyone!? See now you have my point. UGH.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Coach has a 70% off sale and I'm more excited about a new vacuum.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

This is for my husband. So he stops questioning me as if I'm going to find a follower and run off to an island and elope with them...
Weird how people think they are owed an explanation of why you do things in your own life, like they need an itinerary or they get all butthurt like you lied about something. I'm not 12 you're not my mom & I'm not 18 and you are not my boyfriend and if either were true , you still wouldn't rate that shit.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Yes I'm an emotional wreck but anyone whose lives my life would be. So I decided to throw a mini tantrum walk out the backdoor with my socks and around the corner to sit on the front porch and sulk all the while wondering if the people in the cooking place across the street are really that excited and what they are making and if I walked in barefoot and mascara running down my face would they share some?
My sister thinks she can drive. The vomit ready to come out of my mouth will only help prove she can in fact NOT drive.