The personal and introspective musings of an all-too-tongue-and-cheek college girl.


BlogHer, holy crap.

I've officially submitted this blog to BlogHer for listing.

First of all, let me say that I feel mixed about it. On the one hand, I know that I am smart and capable of blogging to an audience and that my views and opinions come from a place of knowledge and respect, so in all honesty, I feel I deserve to be listed when it comes to the rules/reasons of blogher blogs. However, I'm no Dooce, Bloggess, or Sweetney. I'm not a mom (I KNOW that mommyblogging isn't the only type of blog, but it seems to be the one that has recieved the most attention as of late and it is the one that I follow most closely). I don't feel I'm on the same level as the amazing women I follow.

Crossing my fingers to be added.
I'd also love to advertise for BlogHer, but their ad company is currently not seeking any new people, and I haven't been added so it doesn't really matter all that much.

Anyone have any advice for me when it comes to entering the public blogging world?


Frick, this is annoying.

Okay, I'm going to say this now and probably delete it.
Because honesty, I don't know who reads this, and I kind of care.

I don't know what or how to feel about the whole situation. I want to feel apathetic because that would be easy (note to self: find better way to express apathy than with the word feeling, since that is THE ANTITHESIS OF APATHY I'M SO DUMB), but I can't do that because dammit, I FEEL THINGS. So I'm attempting to re-route my feelings through God first and let Him have control of the entire thing. But it still hurts, I think. I can't tell if this is hurt or frustration. Probably both.

I'm working on the whole healing thing.
This is so ridiculously confusing.

Someone needs to bring me XANAX.
And Nyquil.
I'm such a drunky.

[note: I have never had any alcohol. I'm not a real, actual drunky. That just happens to be my favorite word of all time, courtesy of Victor, man of the Bloggess. Plus, when I've had excessive amounts of sugar and caffeine, I greatly resemble a real actual drunk. Dang.]


Dayquil, I heart thee.

I love Laurie Notaro.

I've always been kind of a sucker for authors like Erma Bombeck who write hilarious prose on their lives. Laurie Notaro's is a little more tongue-and-cheek, and her view on things like flippy hair and giant kitchen-raiding rats named Molly keep my attention almost as well as the blogs I frequent (all hail The Bloggess and SFLovestory!)

In honor of that, I'm asking that you go out and find yourself a copy of We Though You'd Be Prettier. Its awesome.

Also, I still have the cough from hell.
I think possibly that I may have broken my lungs.
And you know what? I don't even smoke. Whattheeff.

In other news, I'm avoiding the Wal-Mart tonight. Apparently some gang members have been informed that for initiation they must shoot three women at a local Wally World. Or so I've been told by mass text messages/e-mails/anonymous tipsters. I'm a sucker for suspicious stuff the truth.

Help a girl out and mail me some Dayquil.