I Finially Drank The Vodka And Slit My Wrists

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My own worst nightmare, has become my reality. My posts have become infrequent, and when I do finally post, it is boring and dull. I routinely have nothing funny or even vaguely amusing to say, instead I prattle about trivial annoying subjects.

My blog is no longer a witness to my life, or even notes of my life. It is whatever leftover thought processes I might have at the end of a long day, scraped out of the cavern I call my head. Sadly, it still MIGHT be a witness to my life, because my life has become insanely dull and tedious. As you can see, when I do write, I frequently contradict myself.

My trademark scathing humor seems to have disappeared somewhere, leaving behind a giggling little girl who cannot crack a joke to save her life. And when she does try, it is the same tired lines over and over again.

Do not think this is limited to my blog, it is me as a person. For the past month and a half.

My sister has eclipsed me in blog hits. The one thing I took pride and comfort in was the fact people were actually reading. And frankly, I don't blame them for no longer reading. For my blog can only now be taken the same way I used to eat my oatmeal: drowned in sugar and disguised.

I think it is quite safe to say now that the time has come for me to cease my online prattlings. Lay to rest the tired corpse of my blogging self.

If you will--I have drunk the vodka and slit my wrists of my blog. The life has sufficiently been drained out of it.

Rest In Peace, Sweet Porkchop.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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