Monthly Archives: September 2018

🎵 “Let’s Get Physical…ly and Psychologically Ill…” 🎶

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So… I guess when I was a kid I really liked the Olivia Newton-John song “Physical.” I genuinely thought it was about working out.

But now it’s just SUPER weird when my father posts the video to his Facebook page and tags me.

Uhhhh… Ahem…

🙋🏻‍♀️

Dad?

That song’s about screwing. Like…A LOT.

Could you maybe not?

🎵 “We built this city on Su-da-feddd…” 🎶

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Last week I went on vacation and stayed with a friend and her husband for part of the trip. My friend came down with a cold while I was there, and her lovely, amazing husband went out and brought her an assortment of cold meds, and when he realized he forgot something, went BACK out to get that as well.

So obviously now *I* have a cold, and I’m lookin’ around and it’s just me and Jesus in the house, and oddly, Jesus is shit at errands, so if I want drugs, I have to pull my 90-lb. skull off this pillow and go get them myself.

I see now that this is basically the ONLY reason to be in a relationship. A nice man is going to bring me wonton soup, but I don’t think he’s legally permitted to bring me Sudafed.

Right, then. So as soon as I get back from CVS, I’m gonna answer ALL the OkCupid messages, and hell, maybe sign up for Match, too.

“So, how did you two meet?”

“Well, it all began that day I needed a pharmacy minion…”

To all the men I’ve blown before…

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I’m not sure how I continue to be surprised at the appalling things my family will like and share on Facebook.

My father just shared a fucking Monica Lewinsky joke about all this Nike ad nonsense, and here’s what really chaps my ass — the joke wasn’t even FUNNY. (“Believe in something, even if it means swallowing everything. Just do it.” HA HA HA HA, OH WAIT, NO, that is actually a shitty joke.)

Dad, you and I are about to have a conversation about all the miscellaneous dicks I had in MY mouth at age 22, and how maybe I’d love to not be judged for it decades later and pulled into TOTALLY UNRELATED ISSUES, because the dudes were complete morons. I didn’t even have the self-esteem to AIM for the president — I was jocking my manager at a Blockbuster Video in Jersey, getting finger-banged in the candy closet. (To this day, if I see a box of Sno-Caps, I get MOIST.)

Also, just…fucking EW! I’m your daughter, and you have nieces and grandchildren! I know you’re a dude and all, but CHRIST!

It’s possible I need to lay off Facebook for a while. Or just mute my own goddamn father. Again.

Can I have imposter syndrome ABOUT imposter syndrome?

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I hate when you tell a therapist something and she says, “OK, well, [logic logic logic], but also that’s definitely something we’ll continue working on.”

That’s Therapist for, “Gurl, you cray.”

Pfft. Like it’s so crazy to not believe you can even HAVE “imposter syndrome” because, “Well, it’s not a syndrome — all that stuff is just TRUE.” Honestly. Goddamn hippies. 🙄

(^ See, now, that’s a joke, ‘cause I KNOW that’s kinda fucked up, so please don’t think I’m serious, and then explain the syndrome, and then make me feel like I have imposter syndrome re: effective use of sarcasm.)