Could be yours.
1. I haven't read a proper book in at least six months. Sometimes I open a venerable tome and hold it in front of my face waiting for the "magic" to happen, but it never does.
2. My Wii Fit age is 44 because I have poor balance and my BMI is less than 22. Wii Fit sucks.
(And not just any dollar will I give you but a crisp, unfolded bill that won't be spit out of automatic payment machines as if it is some sort of economic pariah.)
3. My cat, Gerard Butler, is snubbing me because I told him I have no respect for his religion. Really, maybe that is kind of a harsh thing to say an adorable little housecat, but I put up with a lot from him. His internet fame has gone to his head.
4. The Beowulf craze is over. Now what am I supposed to make fun of? Really, this is the biggest issue of all. Myself? Clearly, I am feeling sorry about this. Please, anonymous someone, send me some sort of relief to fill the void and lift me out of this cruel postpartum depression. However, please do not send a tarantula or other pet item. My roommate already has enough living things that scare me.
5. My neck hurts. Boo hoo.
6. Also, I just quit drinking, again. Yes, I can hear you laughing. But there is nothing like getting hangovers without being even mildly tipsy. Obviously, someone has put a voodoo curse on me. Someone wins. Get me a Roy Rogers, stat!
7. I will just be lying here out on the porch whining quietly to myself until somebody earns that dollar. Please, please don't tell me I have to earn it for myself. The horror.
2. My Wii Fit age is 44 because I have poor balance and my BMI is less than 22. Wii Fit sucks.
(And not just any dollar will I give you but a crisp, unfolded bill that won't be spit out of automatic payment machines as if it is some sort of economic pariah.)
3. My cat, Gerard Butler, is snubbing me because I told him I have no respect for his religion. Really, maybe that is kind of a harsh thing to say an adorable little housecat, but I put up with a lot from him. His internet fame has gone to his head.
4. The Beowulf craze is over. Now what am I supposed to make fun of? Really, this is the biggest issue of all. Myself? Clearly, I am feeling sorry about this. Please, anonymous someone, send me some sort of relief to fill the void and lift me out of this cruel postpartum depression. However, please do not send a tarantula or other pet item. My roommate already has enough living things that scare me.
5. My neck hurts. Boo hoo.
6. Also, I just quit drinking, again. Yes, I can hear you laughing. But there is nothing like getting hangovers without being even mildly tipsy. Obviously, someone has put a voodoo curse on me. Someone wins. Get me a Roy Rogers, stat!
7. I will just be lying here out on the porch whining quietly to myself until somebody earns that dollar. Please, please don't tell me I have to earn it for myself. The horror.
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