Hold on to Your Tits Oprah, I’m Comin’ For Ya!

I have several hobbies. While I like to wax poetic and tell myself that I have so many hobbies because they’re all various mediums for telling stories. However, some percentage of my psyche knows that if I have more hobbies, the percentage of one vaulting me into unmitigated success goes up. So, next time you judge, just think, ‘Hey, maybe her new thing this week will land her on Oprah or the cover of Time Magazine‘. People will relish in my brilliance. It’s something I look forward to. If acknowledging my own personal genius is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

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Last time I checked what’s inside my own skull, rainbow coloured gears definitely poured out.

If you run into me in the waking, three-dimensional world, you’ll probably notice that 40% of the time I’m staring off into space like I’m invested in a super interesting TV show. Some people might think that I’m pondering deeply, listening to the sounds around me or even just being mindful. Maybe I’m solving great mysteries or putting together my next great blog post. If you thought any of those thing you’re wrong. Typically when I’m staring right through you as you’re telling me a super (not) interesting story about your weekend, I’m imagining all of the various interviews and press circuits I’ll have to do when my success is finally realized. You might think it’s highly self-involved, I think it’s highly effective planning.

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I hope my bio has that many slashes. 

I’ve ironed out most of the details. I’ll likely be exasperated re: my stylist for stuffing me into a pencil skirt when she knows my thunder thighs don’t need that kind of negativity. I’ll be constantly adjusting my skirt during the interview and it’ll somehow make me appear more personable. ‘Cause I fidget with my clothes, just like you! I’ll likely start every question regarding how I got stared with: “Y’know, it’s funny…” but it probably won’t be all together that funny but it’ll be ok ’cause that’ll be the whole bit! I’ll likely level with the underdogs (my current status) despite the fact that my success was a complete mixture of right time, right place and dumb fuckin’ luck. I’ll likely try to give the recipe to success but it’ll be full of pre-packaged wisdom and terrible quotes I found on the internet.

“Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.”

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Everything ever has to have sunsets in the background right?

“When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” Do they though?

I’ll of course have practiced my flattering laughing face – and forcefully learned how to laugh without sounding like a donkey. (I’m not quite there yet, pray for me.) My husband will be annoyed at how many times I’ll say, “Tip of the tongue, the teeth and the lips” in any given day. Moral of the story, I’m really looking forward to it because what’s better than being given a platform to talk about yourself without being interrupted? LEGIT NOTHING. So I’m coming for you Larry King, because I know that you’ll still be alive when I make it big time. In the mean time, like, follow and comment! Nothing helps support a dying, starving artist like internet support that gives everyone a false sense of acceptance.

So, until I get the coveted call from Oprah’s people telling me that I not only get a car but also a seat on her talk show to talk about life as a story-teller, I’m gonna just keep talking out my ass, ’cause one day it’ll work right? (Blind optimism helps, too.)

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Hey how great is Oprah though? I mean, honestly. This is also the exact gesture she’ll give me when I start talking about buttholes too much. She’s always got my back.

P.S. I’m not actually dying…
P.P.S. Would it encourage you to follow me if you knew I was?
P.P.P.S. I’ll die some day and you’ll kick yourself for not following me.
P.P.P.P.S. You don’t have to follow me I’ll support you either way.
P.P.P.P.P.S. No I won’t.

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