Today is January 31st, which can only mean one thing: it’s time for January to officially go fuck off.
You know, faithful blog followers, life sucks. There is no way around it – all that happy, pappy, I’m so fucking elated my bleached teeth could not shine any brighter- bullshit you see people posting on Facebook all the time is fake. They may as well call it Fakebook, because in truth it’s just a facade. Or all those mundane updates you’re subjected to every time you contact a family member – about how so and so is doing x and y just wonderful things. It’s all bullshit too, and while I am not arguing that people don’t have good times, I am contending that no one has such great times that some of the real mire of the world ceases to exist. Life is only a cake walk for people doped up on more antidepressants and Xanax than is considered safe. Or on people that have delusions of grandeur.
So for those of us that either take no or minimal amounts of medication, and that have no delusions as to our true status in the world, every day, month, and year bears with it the very real possibility to suck. For me, January really sucked a big one. A big and hard one.
But it had its high points.
I posted more than usual this month, and on a wide array of topics. I started off the month (and year) with 12 confessions, one of which is that I hate Italian food. This was a huge weight off my shoulders, actually – both metaphorically for the fact that I’ve wanted to be honest about it for years and never felt I could, and physically for the fact that I don’t feel forced to eat it as often, thus instantly dropped five pounds for lack of all that fat and cheese. And I blogged a lot about marital things too: things a housewife shouldn’t do, Divorcebook, and even a few of my personal marital dramas that are typical of every couple, yet entertaining nonetheless.
But blogging is about all I did on the writing-front this month, and that dearth of writing was a part of what made me realize I’m feeling a little burned out on life in general. Every day was simply a march towards the end – a death march in which everything that could possibly go wrong did until it was too late, and I was too tired, to write. I have high hopes that in the coming months the process will ease up again.
My husband and I purchased a new television this month, which is a huge source of blatant hypocrisy for me. I don’t watch all that much TV, in fact I go for months without even turning the thing on. But my husband watches a fair amount and we do watch movies together on it, so when he told me he’d actually gotten a Christmas bonus at the end of last year, I immediately thought new TV. We have small LCD TVs in all of the bedrooms, but we have never gotten around to buying a new TV for the living room. But why this makes me such an hypocrite is because I have always talked shit up and down about big screened, flat screened, and 3D TVs. I’ve always thought they were ostentatious. Overdone. A product of excess and overindulgence. But I was the first one to jump on board with a brand new 42 inch 3D Vizio.
My point of sharing this with you, faithful blog followers? In an effort to honor my newfound hypocrisy and carry on last year’s blogging tradition of romantic comedies for Valentine’s Day, I’m going to do another romantic comedy-themed movie marathon for you lovely people. I will entertain suggestions for ridiculous and over-the-top films (their inclusion of course depending on Netflix’s availability).
Romantic-comedies + my new found comfortability with dropping the f’bomb, s’bomb, and other cursory words on my blog + new TV = the most entertaining blog post you’ll read on the topic of all things Valentine’s Day.
My Future Second Husband
If january has brought me anything truly good, it’s my future second husband. Just today I was searching on Google Images for a photograph of some excessively hairy balls (ahem, don’t ask…) and I came across something better.
I’ve already decided that if my husband and I ever get divorced, I’m going to move on to the absolute cream of the crop. High paying job. Big house. Sexual drive of a baboon. And class like you wouldn’t believe – class that would make the Most Interesting Man in the World envious.
Well, faithful blog followers, if this guy is as great as this classy photograph depicts, I think I’ve already lined one up. Watch out, Nick – it’s clear I’ve got a Plan B.
So that was January for me, guys. I know… pretty lame. Bitchy and lame. At least I didn’t have to go out hooking this month. Not saying I ever have, just that you never know what a bad month will bring…