You've Got Mail, Bitch! 4.25.2022

Hi and even hello. Wow to think i've decided to write another one of these while wearing press on french tip nails? Brave and even manic depressive. I am typing like a slutty 1950s receptionist wearing the strapiest underwear you've ever seen. Flesh colored and all connected by iron steel rods. I've always believed i would be an incredible receptionist even thought i wouldn't be caught dead working for a man (i work for one). But i would be good at it in that i can type at lightening speed and i always have a snarky response, hunny. You want snark, bitch, i got it for you. Someone would come up to my desk (mahogany, dripping in knick knacks from my recent trip to Boca) and they'd say something along the lines of "Can i see Mr. Brownicle for a moment" and then i'd look up slowly from my keyboard, through the thickest set of fake eyelashes you've ever seen, a curtain of eyelashes, a brick wall of eyelashes. I'd lock eyes with them and say, "Welcome to the gates of hell you little pig" and then fuck them in the supply closet. Ugh being a woman can be cool sometimes.

I've recently joined Tik Tok, an app that, in the past, i've always vehemently sworn against. First of all, i don't like the name. It's too fun and i'm an adult. I want apps such as "clock", "notes" and even "wallet". Nothing else, i'm not here for frills. But i gave in because i saw one girl go viral and it enraged me because i hate other women succeeding. Just kidding! Good for her! But yes that is why i joined.

The following is an account of how i believe the meanest children on earth all follow me on Tik Tok:
Other social media apps aren't filled with such venom. And that is because there are completely different trolls for each of the platforms. Each troll unique, with different colored hair and a different type of belly button jewel.

Twitter trolls are intellectual trolls, they say things like "how dare you think you know enough about this thing to even think that you could possibly comment on it". These trolls i get because they are right, i've ultimately never done one ounce of research on anything i've ever thought, said or stood by. And guess what? I won't. Whose got the time? I have a DOG and he has to PEE, i can't be on google all day long. i'm a mother and the word "research" isn't really for girls like me (blonde).

Instagram trolls are sexual deviants which i do appreciate and yes it did just take me 7 times to try to spell deviants. Trolls on instagram are more of a "i'll fuck you till you die" crowd. I have gotten hundreds of thousands of comments claiming that although i'm not funny it's actually not my fault because i'm a woman and women aren't funny but regardless they'd like to fuck my dead body and then keep it as a momento about how all women are indeed not funny but ARE still hot. So all i really read from these comments are that i'm hot. Which is ultimately fine with me.

Then you've got your Facebook trolls, your Aunties your Uncies, who want to talk about how camo is their personality and how you should vote but also not vote but definitely buy a bunker and start beating your wife and calling your kids gay. Facebook is more of a medieval locker room, where everyone's building an old sword and conspiring against the king. They'll rape and pillage your town, sure! But they'll also buy a house. All while calling you... gay.

Tik Tok is different. The trolls here are young but also ernest. They are not here to insult you or harass you, they are here to give you a piece of advice. And that advice is, "Hey... listen you seem great but this comedy thing? It's just not for you." They don't want you to die, they want you to see the truth and the truth is your dreams aren't gonna pay off. Quit now! You're young, you're smart, get a job doing something else... trust me... i'm 14.

As many of you know, i have now broken my other food. This is to say that yes, i am now a person who has broken both feet. Many would describe me as living hard and fast. Danger around every corner, mommy welcomes it. Quick movements, all based in violence. But no, i broke both my feet just doing my God given right of "walking down the street". Each time, i fell out of nowhere, face into the ground as if to say, "you won't be this beautiful forever". I laugh at the sky and scream 'YES I WILL. YES I WILLLLLL" and then i am carried off to the hospital where they tell me something like, "well you shouldn't have been a vegan for 6 years without taking a single vitamin. Your bones are now a bone substitute if you will, an almond bone if you will, or if you're feeling fancy? A macadamia bone, if you will. But me, a doctor, has never even tried that new milk. Because at a certain point you've got to just pick one.

The last time i broke my bone was very very different. The legends surrounding this break echo through the halls of Coporate Bumble. This was before Hinge, a simple time in our country's history. Where you didn't have to answer any questions or wear a blazer on a date. These were Bumble times, where you would jerk off to flat out ignoring men on the internet. We were young, we were innocent, we had too much power and all the time in the world.

I was late to online dating, similar to how i was late to loose my virginity, so in both cases i was making up for lost time. i was wearing so many mini skirts that my puss became accustomed to an Autumn breeze. My eyes, so thick with a cat eye, that i almost convinced myself i had 9 lives. Will i get strangled on this date tonight? Who cares... i have 8 more to go.

I was on and off dating a man by the name of Shop Keep. We called him that because he owned a shop. Yes, life can be that simple. I had made out with him on the counter of that shop so many times (once), he had given me a chap stick that came in a sea shell. I know, I know. Eat my ass Hemingway, i've got it from here.

We never once had sex but he slept over 30 times. I was seriously about to call Marshall Law. So many reasons were flying through my head. Did he have STDS? But he shouldn't worry, i already have all of those. Did he have a wife? A family? A micropenis? I couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to have sex with ME, an unemployed theater student with a very successful roomate. What's not to love?

We hadn't talked in 2 weeks so i had the coroner proclaim him legally dead. And then it happened. I was walking down the street in BOOTS (my greatest enemy) and i suddenly fell off the curb into the middle of West 4th street. There was only one singular man on the entire street and he yelled over "you good?". i said "LOL! yes". i was clearly not good. I crawled my way into a Le Pain Quotidian and ate a tomato soup, devising my plan. I had a big day ahead of me, a podcast (who cares), a stand up audition (didn't get it) and a show (an open mic). I couldn't let this foot hold me back. So i limped all day to my various things and pretended like everything was fine. Woman vibes! I can't wait to give birth, I bet it feels like nothing.

The next morning i woke up with the biggest foot in America. Purple, truly and fully purple. I called all my friends, no one could help me. They clearly wanted me dead. I look back on that to this day and i'm like.... where the hell were all of my friends!?!?! Regardless i've had each of them killed.

I had no where to turn. So i did what my ancestors would do, i texted this bumble guy and said "can you take me to the hospital".

He then carried my dead body into a City MD, stayed the whole time, brought me home and still didn't fuck me. I never heard from him again. The following months i walked with a cane and then i healed, as all girls do. And one cold fall day i walked by his store and it had been closed down. The poetry of it all.

I saw him years later. He was making pizza at a music festival. We laughed, reminisced and then we.. you guessed it... still didn't have sex. At that same festival i met my now boyfriend who is my caretaker for this broken foot. You've got to laugh.

Oh, i completely forgot this bit of the story,
Months after Shopkeep took me to the hospital, i decided to text him something along the lines of "Is it just me or are you ghosting me". He answered weeks later and said the classic ghosting line, we've all gotten it at one point or another, "I'm sorry.. i've been celebrating a birth." I replied with, ".... Someone else's child or..... your own?". He never answered. This lived as the best ghosting story in my repertoire for years and years. People loved it. I told it at cocktail party's, i told it at Christmas dinners.

Then when i saw him again, making pizza, i asked him. I had to ask him. I asked him "Shop Keep.... did you have a kid????" and he said, "no".

& at the end of the day... Thank God.

I'm in an adult relationship which means that we "check in" throughout the day which makes me feel 40.

I love having a boyfriend but i refuse to call him my "partner". Imagine! The only way in hell i would call him that is if we were running a business together. And by the looks of us that business would be like.. steam punk goggles and lube. With my reputation and his giant ram chest tattoo? Investors would be lined up for these goods.

I now have a dog. My boyfriend had a dog and then he moved in with me and now i have a dog. Which officially makes me a step-mom. Thank god i have this face that was literally made to be a step-mom. I never was a dog person which people hate to hear. The only dogs i liked are the ones that looked like wolfs because fucking hell yeah they're cool and then the smallest little rat dogs, dogs so small that they look literally sick... that's my kind of dog.

Our dog doesn't look like this. Our dog looks like what a kid would draw when they hear the word "dog". He's all American. He's classic, bitch. He's Blake Lively. He should be leading a parade. I feel like such a mom now in a way that's making me slather retinol from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. I go to the dog park with him and make light conversation with the other dog parents. My most recent dog mom friend is named Townsend which is not a name. Her dog's name is Steven. The book is going to write itself, ladies. Regardless, i'm unrecognizable.

Unfortunately, this has made me realize that i'm going to be an incredible mom. Something i wasn't willing to even think about one year ago. I have full fledged mommy issues so i always just assumed i'd wait till i was 42, have a surrogate baby and move into an even bigger castle then the one i was already living in (i get extremely rich out of no where at 34). I'd have this test tube baby and then it would watch me die of old age right before it's sweet sixteen. It!!!! hahahhahahhahhahahhahah i didn't even realize i was typing that. Maybe I'm absolutely unfit to be a mother, but if Lorelai can do it... so can I .

At 28 years old, I am fantasizing about having a daughter. Teaching her about press on nails and how boys are only good for ONE thing: putting in window unit air conditioners. Teaching her that sometimes you'll go into a women's public restroom and realize that your pussy could smell much much worse than it already does. I'm going to be an incredible mom. I'll be on the sidelines at her rec soccer games with a bucket of orange slices screaming at the other moms, who are all my sworn enemies from the PTA. Then when she done, i'll drive her to the local pizza place and ask her which dads she thinks are hot. I literally cannot wait.

My one issue about having a baby is that you have to have the baby. I don't want to brag but my torso looks like one of a 14 year old boy. I don't think physically i could hold a baby because i have 1 bad hip from spin classes. I think when i'm pregnant i will find that i have a thirst for human blood, like Bella in Twilight 1. I think it will make me want to kill, which i believe is already inside me. That's why i always say i'd be great in the Army. Because i think my morales are, um what's the word for "not there"? I think when i'm pregnant i will become a truly evil women.

Worth it? Vote now.