Don’t Mind Me

Just when I thought I’d lost all sex appeal, I got cat-called by a parrot this week.  Yes, you read that sentence correctly.  SHE’S STILL GOT IT!  Ugh.  So as far as where I’m at in life, I feel like I’m really soaring this week.  Add that with the fact I’ll be over here dying of being a woman and things are 4 aces over here.  From the three seconds of research I just conducted no one has ever died from period cramps, but they can be as severe as heart attacks.  Cool, cool, cool.  Someone told me that one day I’ll be sad I don’t get them anymore.  You mean I’m not gonna feel like a psycho killer is inside of me clawing his way through my intestines?  Oh no!  What EVER will I do?  Live in less pain?  Save money on IBuprofen?  Not wake up in the middle of the night in excruciating agony wondering if I’ll live another day?  I assume like everything else in life I’ll get to menopause and regret every word of this but for now, SO LONG SATAN.  Bring on the hot flashes.  I’m here for it.

The 90s are back in full swing and I’m still figuring out how to feel about it.  The Friends reunion I can deal with.  The jeans, I’m not so sure.  The high waisted, giant legged, hammer loop pants cannot and should not be a part of my life again.  Been there, done that.  Crop tops?  AS IF I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH SHIT TO STRESS ABOUT ALREADY.  It’s like I’m in a time warp nightmare complete with a TLC soundtrack.  And clothes, like music, take me back to very specific times in my life.  No one asked me if I was okay to take a trip down memory lane.  No one asked me how this would affect me emotionally or psychologically.  Who decides what’s trendy and when things come back, because I need to speak with the manager.  It’s like Reality Bites all over again.  I’m 36.  How are we revisiting trends I’ve already out survived?  Shouldn’t there be new things I’ve yet to try?  How are we already going back to the 90s?  Do the powers that be feel like we didn’t give it a good enough go?  I assure you, we did and it was terrifying.  If low rise jeans make a comeback, I’m going to have to get a gym membership and I’m really not interested in intentional sweat at this juncture.   Forget trends.  Imma be me.  Now I’m imagining a world in which I never shaved my legs…it could have been glorious.

If you haven’t been watching McMillion$, boy oh boy oh boy, do I have A LOT to say.  I was venting to a friend about it and, in jerk fashion, he told me to write a blog and cry about it.  So here I am…I WILL!!  If you don’t know, it’s about the McDonald’s monopoly game fraud in the 90s…which I didn’t even know was a thing but does explain why McDonald’s took a hiatus from the monopoly game.  There are only 4 of 6 episodes out and here’s the main thing I have to say:  SOMEBODY OWES ME MONEY.  I’m not sure who, but I feel robbed.  Class Action!  Who’s with me?!  …See?  Money makes people psychotic.  Who has it, who doesn’t have it, what people are willing to do to get it.  Is money even real?  This country is trillions of dollars in debt and nobody seems to care.  Do you ever come back from that?  I didn’t pay much attention in economics but that feels not good.  This is why I’m a huge fan of the barter system.  It makes more sense to me.  So do jesters.  They need to make a comeback.  The world could use them.

I wonder what I would have done if I’d been approached with the opportunity to win a million dollars.  I would like to think I would have turned it down.  That I would have taken the high road.  That I’d have known better.  Who’s to say though?  You never know.  People are so quick to judge and make decisions for other people based on situations they will NEVER know or have yet to know.  It’s like, YOU DON’T KNOW, MARGO!  At the end of the day, you don’t know what you’d do until you do it.  And that’s the truth.  A million dollars though…that would be pretty nice.  What would I do with a million dollars?  Oh man…I would pay off my debt, help my mom retire, move into a place where I get a bedroom, travel ALL THE TIME, buy a boyfriend and acquire financial mental peace.  It wouldn’t change my life but it sure would make it easier.

Anyways, I’ve come to find there are two types of texters in this planet.  The kind that write 8 page soliloquies and the ones that send twenty consecutive texts in a row.  To everyone who knows me, I am the latter.  If you ask me a question.  Prepare for a 6 text answer.  It’s how my brain works, I like the way it looks and it makes sense to me.  Most people are fine with it, a lot of people want to punch me in the face – and I’m sort of fine with that.  I have a problem with anything that seems long winded.  I think it’s the undiagnosed A.D.D. in me.  Even as a writer, I hate long paragraphs.  They’re daunting.  It’s like climbing a mountain.  You want one HUGE incline or you want it gradual with a few rests in between?  It’s not that I’m not up for the challenge.  I’d just rather not.  Texts longer than 4 lines send me into immediate inner turmoil.  The anxiety is indescribable.  It’s never a good sign.  It’s usually someone yelling about something they should probably be talking to a hired professional about, somebody inviting you somewhere you don’t wanna go or a conversation that should have been a phone call but isn’t because the person texting you is in a waiting room at the doctor’s office bored out of their mind with nothing else to do.  I’ll tell you this:  If you EVER receive an LOL from me via text message, I’ve been kidnapped and you need to call the Po-lice stat.  And now this paragraph is too long and it’s giving me hives.

I posted a picture on my instagram story the other day and thought to myself afterwards:  what was that all about?  Good grief.  Find a therapist.  I’ve been in my apartment and alone so much lately I’m starting to act out and do weird shit via social media for attention.  Isn’t that what we want when we post something?  Ugh, don’t mind me.  I’ll put myself to bed.  So in the spirit of this awkward segment of life I’m ashamed to admit I’ve entered, the picture for this blog is further evidence of my spiral.  This is a picture that I DID NOT post (until now) but can certainly be put in the ‘please stop doing that’ box.  So for Lent I’m being more conscious and intentional on social media.  No mindless scrolling.  No random postings.  No selfie-shoots!  Being MINDFUL.  I already had to stop myself twice this morning so here’s hoping it becomes a habit.  I think whether you acknowledge Lent or not, being intentional is never a bad thing.  Feel free to join me.  Live on purpose.  Say no to selfies.  Xx

 

 

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