I know this is totally hard to believe completely believeable but I was never even NOMINATED for homecoming princess or prom queen or any of those other awards where being pretty and an object of desirability for all the raging teenage hormones were requirements.
The only awards I won were from basketball.
Yes. I have lots of those. Lots and LOTS of little gold colored, plastic women with perfectly uniform boobs, sitting atop a fat stripper pole with an engraved plate at the bottom all, “You’re awesome at beating people up.”
Ok, so maybe some of the awards are way cooler than that…like the clear one shaped like a star…anyway, you can see why I was never nominated. Who the hell says “way cooler” and gets a sparkly crown? Nobody.
The point is, I was only recognized for being a completely unladylike bitch…throwing elbows, shoving people out of my way with my ass and sweating like a damn pig. It worked and all…MVP and eternal fixture in the starting 5, clutch player with ice in her veins…but it earned me zero friends and millions of enemies people who didn’t like me. Probably because I was mean and stole the ball. Totally opposite from the whole sharing thing they teach you in Kindergarten. I think I was absent that day.
So, this whole blog thing has been like…well, I mean, I’m still probably a bitch…but it doesn’t seem to matter here.
Plus, being a bitch is way better than being prom queen. Cause bitches are allowed to eat more than three times a month and we aren’t required to match our clothes.
I really couldn’t have asked for more…because my favorite thing to do is shovel food into my mouth while wearing a tutu and an old sweatshirt.
Well, actually, I could use an avacado slicer. And I still haven’t heard from the football people about those damn flags. Problem with that last one is I have to go to the grocery store today…we’ve consumed the last saltine and Tim put his foot down on the mystery meat that’s sitting in the freezer.
I was all, “It’s frozen. It’s FINE.”
Then he’s all,”IT expired in 2001.”
The meat has been hanging out in his freezer longer than I’ve inhabited this house.
The hell, honey? Small lesson in like, looking in the bottom drawer of your freezer once a year…I scheduled it for Saturday. 10 am. BE THERE.
No, it’s not optional.
It stopped being optional at year 5.
Am I still aware of the container of yogurt in the back of the fridge that I purchased the second day I moved into your humble abode?
And why is that different?
Because I’m growing penicillin.
Why? Just in case there’s a shortage.
Then, when people are breaking into pharmacies and screaming at the government for penicillin, we’ll be all, “Weren’t we just the forward thinkers? Totally sucks to be you. The dumbass without penicillin.”
You’ll thank me.
Tim has informed me that it is impossible to grow penicillin in yogurt.
I tried to be all, “Mold is MOLD. Duh.”
Then he was all, “No, actually, it’s not.”
Apparently, penicillin comes from bread mold.
Damn his scientific background.
And his brain that remembers shit from 2nd grade.