So today I decided I should have a blog. But not just any blog, no, the most amazing blog in the world! I said to myself this morning "Dee, you should be doing something with your life! You need to make some money! How about getting a good job? Nah, too much work. Plus, I'd have to act like a grown up. No way. How about buckling down and setting a goal for yourself in college? And give up living in a cave, eating candy and energy drinks for breakfast? Fat chance. I know! I'll start a blog and never have to act like a real adult ever again! Yay me!"
What should I call my blog? Should I call it something like Poisoned by Sarcasm? Nah, sounds too cynical. How about Go Fudge Yourself? Bah, too rude. So, I wandered down to the kitchen to eat brownies for breakfast and, much to my never ending delight, the name for my blog was right on the fridge, in the form of a novelty magnet. Bowl of Stupid. Sounds okay. Plus, I'm too lazy to come up with something good.
So, I created this fantastic blog, teeming with excitement for my first post. I created a header, set up the page to my liking, then clicked "New Post." Then, I just stared at the blank screen. All I could think was "write a post about poop, write a post about poop! Poop is ALWAYS funny."
And then, the more I thought about writing about poop, the grosser I felt until I realized I needed a shower anyway. So, I put my laptop on standby and went to go shower, hoping inspiration would hit. Once in the bathroom a wave of hopelessness over my new blog hit me and I was convinced that no one would ever read my blog and that I'd remain a loser forever. But, I still needed a shower.
Now, I shower compulsively because I'm always afraid I smell bad. Like, you know that pain chart at the doctors office with the faces? Where 1 is happy and 10 is crying? Well, I imagine the way I smell in the form of that chart, 1 being I just showered and put on perfume and deodorant and 10 being I haven't showered in a week. No matter what, I always feel like I'm hovering around 6 or 7 on that scale, even right after I shower. It might be because I hate doing laundry, and no matter what I always feel like my clothes smell. I would rather have my face clawed off by a rabid possum in heat than do laundry. I'm pretty sure that's why most of my clothes have holes in them. All the being attacked by rabid possums instead of doing laundry. No offense to possum lovers though, I mean, possums are pretty cool. I only have a problem with the rabid type.
What was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so I showered and the whole time I was thinking about what I should write for my very first blog post and being nauseous because of my crippling insecurity. Thank god, the wanting to write about poop was gone, so I considered writing about how bad this new shampoo smelled, but I was pretty sure no one wanted to read about how my hair smelled like an old lady who has too many pet cats with bladder control problems that she lets sit on her lap all the time.
Then I considered telling a funny story about my friend embarrassing me in public, like the time he dressed up as a Viking to go and browse through the raw meat in a butcher shop, or the more recent loud declaration of "THICK AND CHUNKY" in a diner, but, really, those are short stories and I was hoping for a longer blog post than that.
So, dejectedly, I walked back to my room and turned my laptop on, feeling that I was not ever going to post on my blog ever again, even though I never had before. Then inspiration struck me as I was stalking someone on Facebook!
And that's how this post got written.
