Whitless Houston
So yeah, I'm nearing the end of my fabulous ride on Uncle Sam's coattails (read school refund check) and once again I've thrown my life line out into the great abyss and hopefully someone will decidet to take up the slack cuz frankly I'm starting to feel exactly that...fucking slack...so here's to rejoining the workforce once again! Hoofuckingray...but seriously it's a drag pretending to understand the plight of the housewife! Although my cooking skills have tripled since school has ended I actually made a freaking potroast...then I darned some socks and played canasta with the Smiths. But seriously potroast...wow...so after my short jaunt into the 50's with faithful Donna Reed by my side I have snapped back into the harsh reality of 2007 where potroast is an artifact and making homemade gravy is an ancient rite done by a distant forgotten tribe. Sometimes for real cooking is like opening a dusty old book and taking a trip back to a time when Fitzgerald's characters zoomed around in a yellow roadster around East Egg Rhode Island or when Barbara Stanwyck had a Christmas in Connecticut or just when a family sat down sans the blare of the useless drivel that Inside Edition thrives on...when I make a recipe that my great-grandmother penned while waiting for her husband to come home from an honest day's work, the faded ink on the yellowed food stained card is exactly like getting lost in an old black and white movie where in the end the potroast, like the plot, comes out perfect and everyone enjoys and is fulfilled. God I think I'm hungry. Stupid diet...but thankfully I can finally fit into my clothes again but those size 30 jeans are still hanging gathering dust the moths are jotting down their own recipes ones that include Abercrombie Denim. Well fuck those fucking moths if I have to tuck my lovehandles into my size too small underwear then god help me I will just for 3 seconds in those damned pants and then let the seams burst and buttons fly murderously through the air!! I will have fit into those motherfuckers that used to hang off me.
So yeah back to the work a day world...but now I have an undergraduate degree!! WOOHOO...helluva lot that does for me but ya'll it's a step in the right direction. And now I have something to work towards called Law School make or break me it's where I think I'm destined to go. I just gotta make ends meet till I get there lol and quite frankly that'll be harder than Law School itself believe me. Fucking school loans are killing me...and yes I have a right to bitch ya'll I went to Boston for 2 years...they want my balls as payment for those two years and actually sadly I wish they did want them because I'd serve those mothefuckers up on a silver platter smothered in a homemade Hollondaise to get the loan police offa my back. Goddamned monkey on my back. Why couldn't it be one of those cute monkeys that wear the cute tassled hat and dances to the organgrinder music...no instead I have a huge kingkong sized candy red assed Babboon taking swipes at my carrotid!
hateful
anyways my rant is over I have no idea what I was even saying at the start I blame whitney houston and her learning to love herself despite the crack addiction and abusive husband singing in my ears. Hell if she can learn to love her crack addicted ass then I most certainly should not feel bad about myself. Thanks Whitless
So yeah back to the work a day world...but now I have an undergraduate degree!! WOOHOO...helluva lot that does for me but ya'll it's a step in the right direction. And now I have something to work towards called Law School make or break me it's where I think I'm destined to go. I just gotta make ends meet till I get there lol and quite frankly that'll be harder than Law School itself believe me. Fucking school loans are killing me...and yes I have a right to bitch ya'll I went to Boston for 2 years...they want my balls as payment for those two years and actually sadly I wish they did want them because I'd serve those mothefuckers up on a silver platter smothered in a homemade Hollondaise to get the loan police offa my back. Goddamned monkey on my back. Why couldn't it be one of those cute monkeys that wear the cute tassled hat and dances to the organgrinder music...no instead I have a huge kingkong sized candy red assed Babboon taking swipes at my carrotid!
hateful
anyways my rant is over I have no idea what I was even saying at the start I blame whitney houston and her learning to love herself despite the crack addiction and abusive husband singing in my ears. Hell if she can learn to love her crack addicted ass then I most certainly should not feel bad about myself. Thanks Whitless