Dirty Truths

I’m done my
whining and bitching over the unfairness of life, and I’m good. Thank you all
for cheering me up and reading my depressing jaunt down “I hate life” lane. It
was a good break, and I needed it. Sometimes it’s good for the soul to wallow
in misery. No, I’m serious. It is. You see, when you drag yourself out of the
pit, you realize how lucky you are to have good shit waiting for you.


It also
helps you to accept a few dirty truths about life and fate and all that
nonsense. Here’s what I’ve learned. I hope this shit doesn’t only happen to me.





·        
If
there is a right way and a wrong way to do something, and the wrong way is
going to result in horror/death/catastrophe, you can bet that some jackass will
do things the wrong way, just to confirm that fact. It’s just a fact. Kind of
like how every time I utter the words “humans can’t possibly get stupider,”
someone proves me wrong. I’ve learned you can’t fight this. It’s better to use
the time you would have spent trying to avoid total devastation building
yourself a nice cozy bunker stocked with booze, canned goods, and porn.



·        
I’ve
learned that as soon as I clean the floors, an animal must piss or shit on
them. Same goes for the cat litter. The litter box must never be totally clean.
I suspect the world ends if this happens. I’m not sure. I just know if there
isn’t something shitting or pissing in this house every minute of the day, bad
things will happen.



·        
The
secret to life is not living without regret. It is to do things that are worth
regretting. No, I’m not talking about that one night stand you never told even
your best friend about because it was so…never mind. I’m talking risking your
heart on that person you knew was completely wrong for you because deep down
you know you’ll never feel that way about anyone ever again. Or like that night
you and your friends (all of you way underage) got drunk and went on a “tour”
in someone’s boyfriend’s truck with a bunch of people you vaguely knew, where you
got lost down the back roads twice, at least one person misplaced her bra, another
refused to wear a shirt because he was sticking it to the man, and another ended
up with poison ivy on their whatnots due to an unfortunate accident while
peeing in the woods. And you can’t recall laughing quite like that ever again.
Yeah, those regrets.



·        
I
cannot train anything. Not dogs, not cats, not kids, not husbands. I’m the
world’s worst teacher and I’m okay with that.



·        
There
is nothing good about feet.



·        
I
used to think that if I didn’t make eye contact with weirdos, they wouldn’t
talk to me. I was wrong about this. It doesn’t matter where I am, who I’m with,
or what I’m doing, the weirdest, most annoying fucknut in the place will track
me down and talk to me. Sometimes they even touch me. Once a woman who smelled
like urine and Cheetos hugged me and I thought I’d have to slit her throat. I
would like whoever put the whackjob magnet in my brain to die a horrible death, with
fire, and screaming and much pain.



·      
Sometimes
people tell me I’m unique, or original, but they’re wrong. I’m no different
than everyone else. My personality is just louder than theirs, so it’s hard not
to notice me. Try it. Then you’ll be unique too.



·        
I’m
100% certain of the quality of story I’m writing until I finish the outline and
actually begin to write. At this point, I’m 100% certain the story sucks and I
will never show it to another living soul. Until I type “THE END.” At this
point, I’m 50% certain it sucks, 50% certain it’s brilliant, and 100% certain
if I don’t show it to someone I will spontaneously combust.



·        
If
I mop the floor, someone will spill shit on it. If I clean the tub, someone
will go roll in mud and then take a bath. So why bother? If I dust, it will
come back, so again, why bother? I’m fighting an uphill battle with pet hair
and fleas and I’m kind of losing the will to continue the fight. Also, I hate
dishes and toilets, and why can’t we order takeout every night? The thing is, it’s
my house, my dirt, and my crap. If you are embarrassed about my poor
housewifery skills, you simply don’t have to visit. Actually, I’d prefer you
didn’t.



·        
I
swear a lot. I will never stop. Get used to it. If people would stop getting
offended over stupid shit like whether I call someone “hot” or “fucking hot,”
then we could have world peace, or something equally as nice and fuzzy.



·        
People
who like crowds of strangers are not normal. Stay away from them, they’re not
trustworthy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.



·        
Life
is not a race people, and it’s not a competition. Sure right now we’re all
concerned about who has the biggest house, the shiniest car and the fattest
bank account. We like to get the prize for the best this or that, and turn our
noses up at the have-nots, but consider this: We all end up in the same place,
without any of that shit at the end. Who’s the winner now?



·        
I
know I will die while trying to put the fitted sheet on the fucking bed. Either
my heart will just give out due to my utter hopelessness at this task which I
must do for four beds every damn week, or my brain will explode out of sheer
frustration.





·        
When
I grow up, I’m going to be famous. Don’t you tell me I’m not. It’s the truth. You’ll
see.