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Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Random VI

I have had for a while now a couple of ideas for posts that have been banging around in my head like two horny teenagers, but I've not been able to make any kind of cohesive post out of any of them.  Much to my disappointment, and I am sure the disappointment of the like four readers I have.  Sorry, bitchez, but I'm not a circus monkey that can perform on command.  I need some Viagra to get this party started, if you get my drift.  Or wine.  I'm not sure what Viagra will do to a female, and I'm kinda afraid to Google it.  Then I had a lovely epiphany...I can just write a post of random shit.  I have done this before.  In my defense...OK.  No fucking defense.  It's my blog and I can write whatever the hell I want to in it.


My children's pediatrician has recently started to confirm appointments by text message.  What is really hella cool, and super enabling of my continued social anxiety and avoidance of being an adult, is the fact that you can now also cancel appointments via text as well.  Pretty soon I am so not even going to ever have to talk to people again.  Well, except for that whole being a therapist thing.


One trend that I am trying to wrap my mind around is the whole concept of a food cart.  Look, bitchez...I've worked in a restaurant, several in fact.  Who the fuck thinks that it is a good idea to take an entire building and condense it into a horse trailer, where you can then move around like some kind of nomadic, gypsy restaurateur?  It seems pretty shady to me.  Ever see the movie Snatch?  Parkies are not to be trusted.  Neither are food carts, IMHO.


Along those lines, who the hell started this whole open letter thing?  Seriously, I just can't even with those things.  What an incredibly passive aggressive idea...let's just write to the entire fucking Interwebs when someone pisses you off.  And conversely, if you are thanking someone, let's totally NOT go up to that person in person but post an anonymous letter because God forbid that we should have social interactions with each other of a positive sort.  I mean, I am cool with texting my kids' docs, but open letters piss me off and serve as a justification for my wine consumption.


Magical things happen when I avoid laundry.  And by magical I mean my grandmother's peanut butter cookies, those delicious bombs of trans fats and diabetes.  I still have yet to decide if I like them cooked or raw better.  See, my family should THANK me for not engaging in the futility of laundry.  Really, I'm just trying to show my love through delicious peanut butter cookies.  Except to Charlie.  Peanut butter makes her gag.  But hey, all my actions can't be winners.


I've also been thinking a lot about the whole concept of hashtags.  Who the fuck thought of that name?  Who came up with the idea to put a # sign in front of shit?  And really, what purpose do they have on Facebook?  I've been trying to start my own hashtag, #textingwithalicia, but I only use it on Facebook.  Mostly because 90% of the time I forget I have a Twitter.  I'm a really bad Tweeter.  I have an Instagram too that I post, like, monthly on.  But really, has anyone ever considered that hashtags could be the way that pot heads keep track of content on the internet?  I mean, come one, HASHtags....I wonder if by using them I have been inadvertently enabling someone's weed habit.  Great, now I feel fucking guilty.  I thought I gave that all up when I stopped attending Catholic churches...

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