In Which I Layer Rants On Rants To Make A Rantwich and Then Sprinkle it With A Dash of Rant and Add a Side Of Ranting.

 

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Dude. This chick even rants in her post titles… Gee-zus!

 

If I had a penny for every single time I’ve whispered “what the FUCK” to myself by the end of any day- I’d be rich. I’d be able to pay off my credit cards. I’d be able to half-ass-afford my own Starbucks addiction without willingly overdrawing my bank account-I don’t think you’ve been able to grasp the “realness” of my caffeine struggles guys. 

Continue reading “In Which I Layer Rants On Rants To Make A Rantwich and Then Sprinkle it With A Dash of Rant and Add a Side Of Ranting.”

WeekEND

If there were a way to capture a screenshot of what’s happening inside of my fucking head right now, I’m positive it would be immediately flagged as inappropriate content and banned by whoever those prick-people are who have actual jobs judging what gets banned from social media. It would look like a fucking battlefield-except there would be no bodies nor blood-only wounded thoughts: some shattered into millions of fragments, desperately dragging their amputated, decapitated bodies in every direction-never to make any sense; some held captive as prisoners in shackles by the enemy- Denial; some are innocent children-abandoned, confused, and seeking purpose; some are cowards-hiding from their own shadows…too terrified of what would happen to them if they stood up for themselves.  A brutally poetic setting, I can assure you.

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In Which I Rant SO Incessantly That I’m Not EVEN SURE How to Title, Categorize, or Tag The Rant.

You know that one time when I was all like  “Fuck you Universe and your lemons because I’m a boss and if I want apples then you best buh-lieve I’m getting some juicy apples bitch”?

Who even ARE you Elizabeth?! 

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Continue reading “In Which I Rant SO Incessantly That I’m Not EVEN SURE How to Title, Categorize, or Tag The Rant.”

In Response to A Mommy Blog

I just finished reading the most eloquently written blog post on Facebook. A friend shared it from mom.me and I was enticed only because some other friends complimented it/shared it again and I suddenly felt challenged. And I admit- it was beautifully delivered. It’s everything an English professor could ever dream of. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t piss me off.

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Go Home Friday. You’re Drunk. 

I don’t know what it is about me. But there are these days much like today, when I just know I’m an absolute hot mess and my day has already gone to shit right from the second I blink my brown eyes.

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Yep. That about explains how I felt when I woke up this morning.

Continue reading “Go Home Friday. You’re Drunk. “

In Response To ‘Merica, The Cunt

Disclaimer: When it comes to politics I rely on tabloids, whatever google says, and whatever everyone on Facebook says. Did you think that would stop me inserting my 2 cents plus an extra cent just for the sake of living up to my “extra-ness”?  Come on! we all know opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one. And this is just me, giving you my asshole no wait…showing you my asshole. Relax RELAX, don’t be so anal.

Continue reading “In Response To ‘Merica, The Cunt”

Playing With Fire

It’s 2017. While some moms or dads have the opportunity to stay home and raise the kids while their partner runs around the corporate world like the Headless Horseman on crack- it’s more common that both parents are out there hustling day and night trying to make ends meet for eachother and their beloved spoiled-as-FUCK offspring. But lately I’m kind of just over it.  I’m over this struggle to balance love and money. The realization that money controls everything in my life including the vitality of my relationship is fucking beyond me. Continue reading “Playing With Fire”