Friday, November 04, 2005


I am the lamest 23-year-old this world has ever seen. Tomorrow is my cousin Liz's bachelorette party and my excitement-to-dread ratio is 1-to-99.


I don't even like being this antisocial. I would prefer to be all fired up for an afternoon at the spa, and evening of drinking and the inevitable appearance of some nasty-ass male stripper. But I'm so not.

Fuck! Why am I wound so tight? How can I be this neurotic? Why would anyone even want to be around me? I can't even let myself have fun!

And it's only going to get worse.

I hope that I'm lucky enough to find a husband and pop out a few kids so that, when I'm 45, I can spend my weekends making casseroles and doing laundry.

Better than the alternative: 45, alone, singing showtunes in my Winnie the Pooh pajamas while clipping coupons for my favorite recipies out of my favorite cookbook - Delightful Dinners for One.


BadGod said...

I am sorry you are unhappy.

Why name your car Stella?

Why did you dress up like a mechanic?

Why are you so worried about finding a husband, having kids when you are 23?

Plantation said...

Not being excited about a b-party isn't the worst thing. I'm not a big fan of that either and I hate strip clubs. I know you're only venting here, but I keep tellin' ya, you've got soooooooooo much going for you it's unreal. I wish I was 25 and lived in Michigan.

A said...

My car's name is Stella because she looks like a Stella.

I was a mechanic because it was an easy costume and not dorky - two very important factors I, as a seventh grader, took into account.

I am worried about finding a husband and having kids I don't know, actually. Because I have nearly zero experience with the opposite sex and I'm afraid that I never will. Which would put a cramp on the husband/babies thing.

Shout out to PT because he always cheers my ass up. :)

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