I cursed my fate because I had no shoes...
...and then I ran into this bitch on the elevator wearing Blahniks, and now I'm really pissed off!
I've never been one of those "look at the bright side" kinds of people. For one thing, in order to
look at the bright side, you need sunglasses. When I think of sunglasses, I think of the $300.00 pair of Versace sunglasses I just HAD TO FUCKING BUY SO I WOULD BE COOL LIKE PARIS HILTON -- the ones I scratched the shit out of just two weeks later. And how exactly, pray tell, is focusing on the suffering of others supposed to be a "bright" anything? "Oh Funky, don't feel bad because you have to drive an hour to get to work. Some people don't even HAVE a car!" Wha??? "There but for the Grace of God go I!" WHA??? Great -- something else to worry about.
When I'm down -- depressed, or stressed, or nervous, it does NOT help to "count my blessings." If I start out counting my blessings, it usually sounds something like this:
I've got a great daughter! She's smart, and witty, and ever since she got busted by the cops for skipping school, she's been so...oh shit, I forgot to pay her Truancy Fine! Oh fuck! Now I'm going to have to go to court and explain why she wasn't in school that day. Shit -- I work for The Court! Oh goddammit, I'm going to get fired...wait, count my blessings...okay, one more time... I LOVE my new car! I love the leather seats, and the way it's so dependable because it's brand new so the transmission doesn't growl and I don't have to top it off with oil every fifty miles...shit, when was my last oil change? Six months ago? Oh FUCK my husband is going to KILL me! I can't take care of shit...all he asks is that I take the car for regular service, and keep up with the laundry and feed the...fuck, I forgot to put his underwear in the dryer. He's leaving tomorrow for a business trip and his boxers have been in the washing machine for three days...
So if I'm occassionally sad, you'll know it's because I cursed my fate because I had no shoes, and that just really starts the ball rolling.
Oh, and yes I DO know for certain she was wearing Blahniks, because her suit was Chanel, her purse was Judith Leiber, and I'm pretty sure her necklace was vintage Harry Winston.
And I hate her -- I hate her shoes, and I hate wondering what SHE counts, when she's counting her stupid blessings and looking at the bright side through haute couture sunglasses withOUT scratched lenses.
And, I'll bet she can say "haute couture" without sounding stupid.
I've never been one of those "look at the bright side" kinds of people. For one thing, in order to
look at the bright side, you need sunglasses. When I think of sunglasses, I think of the $300.00 pair of Versace sunglasses I just HAD TO FUCKING BUY SO I WOULD BE COOL LIKE PARIS HILTON -- the ones I scratched the shit out of just two weeks later. And how exactly, pray tell, is focusing on the suffering of others supposed to be a "bright" anything? "Oh Funky, don't feel bad because you have to drive an hour to get to work. Some people don't even HAVE a car!" Wha??? "There but for the Grace of God go I!" WHA??? Great -- something else to worry about.When I'm down -- depressed, or stressed, or nervous, it does NOT help to "count my blessings." If I start out counting my blessings, it usually sounds something like this:
I've got a great daughter! She's smart, and witty, and ever since she got busted by the cops for skipping school, she's been so...oh shit, I forgot to pay her Truancy Fine! Oh fuck! Now I'm going to have to go to court and explain why she wasn't in school that day. Shit -- I work for The Court! Oh goddammit, I'm going to get fired...wait, count my blessings...okay, one more time... I LOVE my new car! I love the leather seats, and the way it's so dependable because it's brand new so the transmission doesn't growl and I don't have to top it off with oil every fifty miles...shit, when was my last oil change? Six months ago? Oh FUCK my husband is going to KILL me! I can't take care of shit...all he asks is that I take the car for regular service, and keep up with the laundry and feed the...fuck, I forgot to put his underwear in the dryer. He's leaving tomorrow for a business trip and his boxers have been in the washing machine for three days...
So if I'm occassionally sad, you'll know it's because I cursed my fate because I had no shoes, and that just really starts the ball rolling.
Oh, and yes I DO know for certain she was wearing Blahniks, because her suit was Chanel, her purse was Judith Leiber, and I'm pretty sure her necklace was vintage Harry Winston.
And I hate her -- I hate her shoes, and I hate wondering what SHE counts, when she's counting her stupid blessings and looking at the bright side through haute couture sunglasses withOUT scratched lenses.
And, I'll bet she can say "haute couture" without sounding stupid.
posted by Robin at 10:10 PM
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