The last 37 years of my existence on this rock, hurtling forward through space and time with the rest of you humans has culminated in the dawning of information so mind-shattering I feel like I might have accidentally stumbled upon the real meaning of life. What's this "vital epiphany" you might ask?
I am destined to be a crazy old cat lady. In fact, I might already be one. I'm not entirely sure at what age one officially earns the title and goes from merely "eccentric" to "crazy old cat lady". I'm also not sure how many cats one needs to accumulate because that could be a real deal breaker for me. I mean seriously - fuck cats. They're assholes. I want dogs. Weenie dogs to be exact. A whole fucking weenie dog ranch.
Kind of like this but with really short fences and you know, many weenie dogs.
And I would have signs like this.
Yup. You read that right. Given my current state of affairs I am actually aspiring to be given the official crazy cat lady badge. Or crazy weenie wrangler lady as the case may be.
Because crazy weenie wrangler sounded vaguely perverted and might give dudes the wrong impression.
So what could have possibly happened to thrust me so far into fuzzy spinsterdom at such a young age? SHUT UP! I'm still young damn it!
I have had enough close encounters of the EX kind! Ex -husbands, ex-lovers, ex-boyfriends, ex-pets, ex-friends. You name it, I've been scorned. Scorned, I tell ya! Even when I was the one forging the rift!
What will follow in this blog in the days, weeks, months, years to come will be my psychological purging of memories of those loathsome creatures that contributed to my need to be the future crazy old cat lady presented here before you.
Also, it really will be a purging. Like a rock bottom bulimic in a cheesy after school special, I too have eagerly choked down (pun fully intended) more than my fair share at the All You Can Eat Asshole Buffet.
I promise you all these stories are 100% true. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. Any resemblance to persons dead or living is totally intentional. If you know someone that you believe may be one of my exes - RUN! RUN, I tell you! Save yourself!
Posts to look forward to:
He's a self proclaimed Jedi Master. No really. He put it on his website and everything. And no, he isn't a gamer.
You'd think a hatchet to the head would knock some sense into a person.
God's personal cell phone number can be found at the bottom of a bottle of cough syrup and he only takes MY calls.
In my fantasies, you're already someones prison bitch.
Running away from your problems is better - the doctor's always recommend more exercise.
Even Wal-Mart thinks it is too good for you.
The Rules Just Don't Apply To Me (serial posts)
It's Cinco de Mayo and I'm watching your pregnant ex-girlfriend do blow in a shack while you're experimenting with your sexuality.
Yes. That is the logical assumption. I ran my brand new car off a goddamn cliff to avoid our counseling session. God I'm a bitch!
What? You're supposed to have a lot of sex on your honeymoon. What do you mean not with other people? Nobody told me...
I want a divorce because I do not like your shower routine. (And other seriously fucked up reasons my ex gave for wanting a divorce over the years)
I only smoke when I'm fucking other women.
(Alt title: It's not the cigarettes that'll kill you).
(Alt title: It's not the cigarettes that'll kill you).
Isn't it cute when I pretend to be possessed by a demon and chase you around the house growling?
I went through an entire baby name book and could only choose from four names because every other name reminded him of someone.
