I'm Going to Call This Tabexit, and You Can Totally Vote on It

Tabitha took over the blog last night, you guys.

As she does.

For the record, I'm a grown-ass woman, and if I feel like making a New Year's resolution, I will. And if I don't feel like it, I won't.

The great thing about New Year's resolutions is that they're not required, and they're only important if you decide they're important.

Maybe I should resolve to finally kick Tabitha to the curb in 2017. She doesn't actually do any work, you know? She seems to exist solely to give me a reason to occasionally go off my nut in this space.

Well, I don't need a surrogate to do that (unlike certain Presidents-elect I could name).

He hates when anyone posts unflattering pictures of him.
So I found this one.

Anyway, I wonder if any of you think Tabitha should stick around. Or if she should go. Or if you just don't give a shit either way.

You could let me know. I'm sort of on the fence. I mean, she's a convenient scapegoat for my worst instincts. But maybe I shouldn't need a scapegoat, right?

Poor lil goat.

Weigh in if you wish. On December 31, I'll either renew Tabitha's contract ad infinitum or ritually dismember her and burn her at the stake. I just don't know which at this point.

That probably has something to do with that New Year's resolution I was thinking about making.

It all goes together, you see.

i'm baaaack

shhhh, you guys...

don't tell chuck...

tabby here.

didja miss me?

i'll bet she told you i was dead, didn't she? i'll bet she made up some ridiculous story about how i was eaten by wild pigs.

that is exactly what she would do. bitch.

all right, look, i've been doing some traveling, ok? so i haven't time to work on chuck's stupid little blog. probably she's been interviewing my replacement while i've been gone. but dig this: she never changed the password on her blogger account. and i'm totally still on here as an admin.

so it's time for some truth bombs courtesy of tabitha roxanne renee louise brown.

numero uno: chuck baudelaire doesn't decide whether or not i'm her admin. i like it here, and i'll stay on as long as i wish. i like this gig. and several sovereign nations will send, like, top-secret covert assassins against her ass if i smile at their leaders and say pretty-please.

why yes, that is the way the world works.

numero duo: the world needs me. have you been following the brexit movement? you know, the referendum on whether britain should take its happy ass out of the european union or stay put? who do you think took david cameron aside and pointed out that in america, donald trump has basically already declared himself the next president, and that he did it by appealing to the dumbest, angriest, most sheeplike people our great nation has to offer? davey took my meaning, and now he's channeling his inner trump to bring out england's inner redneck asshole. i did that. (btw, cameron is no putin in the sack, just saying)

numbero threeyo: you guys miss me. don't lie. can you stand living the rest of your life without another "tabitha takes on" post? i haven't yet taken on the zika virus, the harriet tubman $20 bill, or trump. and i have hella lowdown on the donald's hair. i haven't talked about chuck's stupid divorce finally being final, either.

numbero iv: deep down, chuck really loves me. and if i have to reach down her throat and search around in her guts to find that love and pull it out of her, i will. it'll be fun. i'll post pictures, lol.

anyway, bottom line is, tabby's back. now fuck off, i've got a lot to do around here. this place is a mess.

Finalists

So as many of you know, my page admin Tabitha was recently eaten by wild pigs.

Wild pigs are totally punk rock, you guys.

I'm...OK, I'm not too sad about Tabitha's demise. She was a bitch. Our relationship was unhealthy. I'm trying really hard to shed myself of unhealthy relationships.

(Aside: I saw my almost-ex last night at our Precocious Daughter's Spring band concert. With one sentence he shattered my emotional equilibrium and sent me running for vodka, which I had in recent weeks quietly abandoned. Unhealthy relationships are hard to leave behind, you guys.)

Where was I? Oh, yes, my toxic, recently deceased page admin.

I've been looking for a replacement for Tabitha, because I'm a freaking train wreck and need someone to look after my social media presence, even if it's someone who hates my guts.

Self love is a thing. I'm working on it.

Anyway, I've unearthed three finalists for the position of page admin. I'd really appreciate your input into the final, successful candidate.

First, there's Kimi Fierce.

Kimi is smart and tough. She says she's an expert at "technomological stuff," so that gives her an edge, amiright? She drank a 64 oz. bubble tea while we interviewed and giggled every time she popped a tapioca bubble with her teeth. Also, she asked me if I was into "hentai and/or reptile porn." Is that a red flag? I don't know.

Second, we have Alfredo Mangliomongliotorre.

Big Al, as he likes to be called, says he invented MySpace and the Monongahela River, and I simply don't have time to vet these claims. I mean, he seems legit, but on the other hand, I have a thing about Italian-Americans and don't necessarily practice discernment or discretion when it comes to their attempts to woo me.

Finally, we have Anyatta Sorpresa-Jones. I like her, Drunkards.

She takes zero shit and told me she wouldn't put up with my "female white blogger complex." I don't know what that means, but I'm good with it. I think.On the other hand, she made several references to "fighting the power" during our initial interview. I don't know if I'm the power. I hope I'm not. But I'm not sure.

What do you think? Is one of these fine individuals my new page admin? Should I require a writing sampling before making my choice? Because I can do that if you think it's best.

Let me know.

Ta Ta Tabitha

Sad news, Drunkards.

My page admin, Tabitha Roxanne Renee Louise Brown, has met her demise.

It seems she fell off a bridge and landed on the road below,

and was hit by an oncoming car,

which threw her into a nearby river,

on which she was carried for several miles in snapping turtle-infested waters,

ultimately being deposited on a muddy bank

that ran through a meadow full of wild pigs,

which found her quite tasty.

They'll eat anything.

I'd like to say I'm sorry she's gone, but I'm not. I would like to apologize to any wild pigs that suffered indigestion from snacking on her rancid meat.

Tabitha has been undermining my attempts at sobriety for a long time now. She's been undermining me for a long time, period.

She is (was) schadenfreude personified, and she hated me.

Well, she's dead now, and I'm glad.

Considering all she'd done, she really went in the most merciful way possible that didn't actually involve a wood-chipper and/or rabid coyotes.

I made damn sure of that.

Anyway, farewell, Tabby. You were kind of fun but mostly a bitch. I don't need you any more.

But I do need a new page admin.

I'll let you know who I find.

Tabitha Takes On Gay Marriage

It's been quite a while since my page admin Tabitha got to post here. She got a little big for her tight britches, so I had to wish her into the cornfield for a while to chill her out. But she asked nicely (for her - it didn't involve threats of violence or more than five curse words) if she could write about an issue that's important to her. I have a rotten cold and could use a break, so I said yes. As always, I apologize in advance. 
-CB

Hey, you beautiful people. Tabby here.

Talk dirty to me and I'll show you
my tattoos.

Well, here it is 2015, and we're still talking about gay marriage. BORING.

There are, like, so many other things we should be talking about, y'all. Like douchebag terrorists. And sexy redheads. And how shitty country music is these days.

Seriously, have you listened to this yet? Chocolate-covered Christ. LOL.



But no. Instead we're still hearing about old white fucks trying to spoil other people's fun, just because some people prefer their fun with matching genitalia. Dudes. Honestly, if you like pussy, isn't it better if some guys don't? Less competition and all. And the same goes for straight lady bigots, of course. Lesbians are doing you a huge favor by jumping off the wiener train.

All aboard.

So, the 5th Circuit Court is hearing arguments from the mouthbreathers in Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi about whether or not it's anybody's damn business if consenting adults marry whoever the hell they want to marry. Because the states that rank 46th, 49th, and 50th in poverty rates have nothing bigger to worry about. I mean, Jesus, if you're gonna stick your nose in something that's none of your damn business, why not look into why so many people in those states eat goddamn bottom-feeding crawfish? GROSS.

Buttsex is an abomination but eating armored cockroaches is OK?
WHERE ARE YOUR PRIORITIES?

Anyway, the official reason these states have concocted for why gay marriage is fucking terrible is that it's the state's job to encourage procreation, and couples can't procreate if they don't possess one penis and one vagina between them. And a wedding ring, because babies born outside of marriage are spawns of Satan and deserve the shitty education they're going to get in Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi unless they're rich enough to afford private school. Oh, and being white and Christian is also preferred. And Republican.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, procreation. It's the state's job to encourage procreation. Besides being creepy as all hell, that notion is - what's the word? - stoopid. Yeah. I don't have kids myself, because children are messy, shallow, undisciplined, and needy. They're like boyfriends you can't have sex with, lol. But if I did, it wouldn't be because the government thought it was a good idea. I don't do anything the government thinks is a good idea, including paying taxes and not sleeping with Vladimir Putin.

I just can't help myself.

The thing is, these dudes are also arguing that straight couples who can't reproduce should still be allowed to get married as if they were normal people. Well, screw that. How are we supposed to know who's queer and who isn't if all married people aren't popping out kids? State governments, you're leaving us dangerously ignorant of other people's private sex lives if you allow straight people to play gay by not having kids. Infertility, menopause, lack of parental instinct - these are things that totally should disqualify people from getting married just as much as being gay does. You don't get to have consequence-free sex AND a tax break, straight people.

Just lie there and don't enjoy it.

Just let anybody get married, or nobody get married, how's that? Because when you start to pick and choose who can and can't, you look kind of dumb. Or how about this - be, like, honest about why you really don't think gay folks should get married: You're just bitter.

Because you couldn't pull this look off if you tried, bitch.

Personally, I think marriage is ridiculous. Love is for suckers, and it bites you in the ass. I say, if you hate gays so much, let 'em get married. That'll show 'em. Let them drive without seatbelts and stand on the top steps of ladders, too, while you're at it. If Darwin was right, everything will sort itself out.

Oh,wait. You white Christian right-wing lawyer types don't believe Darwin was right, do you? You think the weak and the stupid just get to keep on surviving as long as they pray to the right God and have sex with the right people.

That's actually a pretty brilliant strategy.

I mean, it works for ISIS, right?

Good job, state governments.

Peace out, people. I'm going to have some state-approved hetero sex. God bless America, y'all.

Tabitha Takes on Being Thrown Under the Bus

tabby here.

she thinks i will go away.
i will not. lol.

chuck can't post tonight because she's all, like, distraught and whatnot.

why?

well, at work she got totally thrown under the bus by a co-worker. like, marginalized in front of a new senior employee. it hurt like fuck.

it was hilarious.

then her ex told her he wouldn't rescue her from a burning building because she's too fucking fat.

pictured: not chuck.

also, her precocious daughter told her something about one of the other middle school moms that made her feel really, really small and bad about herself.

this turtle is ginormous. just sayin.

i had an awesome day. chuck felt bad, bad, bad. the entire world picked up her sorry ass and chunked it under the proverbial bus. awesome.

so you see, i will live forever. because i thrive on her negative energy. and if she's gonna continue to produce it, i'm gonna continue to slurp that shit up.

icees for the goddamn soul, y'all.

and all chuck can do is smile as her loved ones experience success and happiness. because she's a total fucking loser, y'all.

and she gets to do it all again tomorrow.

because that bus...it runs the same schedule every damn day. and there's no one to snatch her from the jaws of defeat.

pharrell ain't got nothing on how happy i am.

Preview

Here's a rare middle-of-the-day post for you.

Really not worth anything other than sentimental value.
Next.

I've decided to tell the story of me and Tabitha, my terrible, terrible page admin who hates me. It probably will come out in a few installments as I have time to put it together. I'm using a cool-beans website I found called Pixton, which lets you create cartoons. Very helpful for people who can't draw a lick. Not that I'd want to draw a lick. I'm not even sure what one looks like. But it would probably turn out badly.

But I digress.

Anyway, that story is coming. Here's a one-panel preview that pretty well sums up our relationship:



A typical day at Baudelaire Enterprises.

Stay tuned.

Tabitha Takes on Courage

well, good evening, people. it's me, tabby.

dafuq are you looking at? lol

i've been, like, so busy since the last time i posted on this pathetic little blog. that was way back during the olympics in sochi, russia. i boinked vlady putin and told him to invade the crap out of ukraine. i didn't think he'd actually do it, y'all, i was just seeing how deep i had his balls, you know? what a moron, he actually did it.

so i guess, like, they're protesting for better teeth and
maybe a better color palette, or some damn thing.

i got bored of vlady real quick, because he looks like a cabbage patch kid only with a smaller dick. so i decided to do other stuff before heading back to the u s of fucking a.

most of it i can't repeat here.

me, pope francis, and a goat. that's all i can say.

also, i may have told the leader of uganda that i was sick of the gay guys having all the fun. maybe. i don't even know how i got to uganda. i blame jeb bush. dude is sick.

actual jeb bush quote: "alls I'm sayin is that if you smack 'em
open-handed like this, bitches be stayin in line."

 any-gosh-darn-way. i'm in america now, and i'm like super-glad to be here. at least the crazies here speak english, the way god intended.

and you may be asking, what the frig does any of this have to do with courage, per the goddamn title?

well, i'll tell you.

first: do you find this sexy? sick bastard.

but courage. chuck baudelaire has none. that's what i'm trying to tell you people. not enough courage to confront the fact that she's been (or is being) replaced right now. not enough to wear team colors even if they're totally the underdog. courage, bitches.

imma tell you all a story, chuck was supposed to spend tonight with her precious fucking drummer boy. but she didn't. do you know why?

hint: she's a fucking weeny loser.

i tried to mke it easy on her. i said, let me take care of the miscellaneous bastards, let me inform your corporate office that you said "fucky you times a million," let me be happy and helpful.

But no. that's not chuck.

chuck. lol.

she could have said screw you, imma see my lover tonight. instead she said, ok imma stay home because i'm scared. bitch.

that's why she's in bed crying and i'm here. because i get off on people not getting their heart's desire.

duh.

special message to beks and smee: chuck's not coming tomorrow, because she's a whiny crybaby.

also, confidential to drummer boy: she will give up as easily as she gave up tonight, every fucking night.

courage. you gotta have it  to get along in this world. some got it. some don't.

i got it. go to hell if you don't like it.

stick it up your ass. he did.

one of these days, chuck might go away forever. and i'll be in charge. and i could do it, too. because i have courage and she has tits-all.

imma DM her boyfriend now. because i can.

courage.

holla, y'all.

Tabitha Takes on the Winter Olympics

Note: I banished Tabitha's ass. Somehow she wound up in Sochi, Russia, and filed this report on the 22nd Winter Olympic Games. It's entertaining, so I let her publish it. Also, she's not mean to me for once (relatively speaking, of course).

hi, y'll. tabby here.

you know you missed me.

 

i'm in fucking russia, people. russia. do you know where that is? it's all the way over, you know, there. almost to europe or something.

 

this is totally not helpful. anyway, shouldn't that
be the african-american sea? so racist.

btw, you people are sons of bitches. some of you narced me out to chuck baudelaire and said "ooooh i don't like her" and "waaaah, she's so mean" and "blablabla i'd fuck her but i wouldn't marry her." whatevs. chuck said i should disappear for a while. so i went on kayak.com and looked for a cheap flight to the hell out of there. i get off the plane and i'm in bulgaria. or maybe the other garia - you know, hungaria.

 

Note: I know, she just totally ripped off a
Spinal Tap joke from "The Simpsons." Or maybe
she doesn't realize it's a joke. - CB

 

so i ended up in this street market because i heard that weed is legal in amsterdam - which i guess means it was bulgaria, right? geography, lol. and then this, like, goat farmer or sheep fucker or something named arnost that i met when he copped a feel in front of a sausage shop hooked me up with a barge trip across the african-american sea (#notaracist) and i ended up in this cool place called sochi.

 

guess what, dudes: they're having the winter olympics here! i did not even know that. it's karma, or kismet, or what the hell ever. i love the olympics. they are the coolest thing america ever invented.

 

so i was wandering around sochi, pretty much following the dogs, which i guess are the olympic mascots this year because they're like everywhere. and i met this guy who said he was vladmir putin's personal tailor's teenage boy toy and would i like some vodka. and i said, who is vlalala poopin? and he said something in some other language, i have no idea what they speak in russia. anyway, someone else told me that vladimir putin is all in charge and whatnot and would i like some vodka. and i thought, i need to meet this dude.

 

long story short: it's amazing how helpful foreigners can be when you let them put their hands inside your shirt. before too long i was introduced to him and given some vodka.

 

spoiler alert: we totally did it.

 

he takes off his shirt and we have the sex.
are you surprised?

 

so then he's all "hey, baby, will you carry a torch for me?" and i'm like, no way, you're cute and all but russia is too effing cold and after i go back to america imma forget all about you. i'm kind of a bitch that way.

 

but you know what? he wasn't asking if i would be his girl. he was actually asking me - me, tabitha roxanne renee louise brown - to light the freaking olympic torch at the opening ceremonies! how much is that cool?

 

but then he got kind of pissy over the "imma forget you" comment and totally took it back. so that's why i'm not actually going to be up there with the torch. kinda sucks. i've got a pretty big mouth sometimes.

 

also, now i need another place to stay. vlad's crib was rocking, so i'm looking for something just as swag. there are all these hotels and stuff here in sochi that look brand new. probably they're awesome. a lot of them don't have sidewalks leading up to them or doorknobs or walls around what you might call 100% of the buildings. might be a russian thing, i don't know. i don't study architecture, because boring. i'm sure i'll find something nice.

 

can someone tell me which hotel this is?
because it sounds like my kind of place.

 

or maybe i'll score a room with the athletes. you know, flirt a little and get an invite. some of the figure skater guys are pretty hot. i'll flash some boob and they'll be all over me. guys dig me.

 

after i settle in, i'm going to explore. make some new friends. maybe get a look at shaun white's halfpipe, if you know what i mean. so ciao for now.

 

i mean i want to see shaun white naked. i thought i should clarify that.

 

later, gators.

 

 

Tabitha Takes on the Internet

Note: It's time for another post from my page admin Tabitha. And I have to admit, this one is sort of my fault. Although really, I blame the Internet. Standard advance apologies apply. - CB

so, like, hi y'all. it's me, tabby.

tabitha roxanne renee louise brown
if you're nasty.

so the chuckster was being pretty funny this week. and by funny i mean she was all stressed out and about to have a nervous breakdown. which i find funny. here's why.

every year the domain name for this stupid blog comes up for renewal. every year the google people send her multiple reminders. and every year chuck puts off renewing until the damn thing up and expires, and she has to get it back up and running before she loses the three pathetic morons who actually read this thing.

manny, moe, and shemp i call them.

i mean, really, she should hire someone to look after things like that. a page administrator or whatnot. how hard can it be?

aaaaanyway, this year chuck decided to fork over her renewal fee a whole day before the domain registration expired. because she's, like, proactive and mature and blah-de-dah.

which reminds me, did you see diane keaton at the golden globes?
i love hot drunk chicks, don't you?

back to chuck. she could not for the life of her get to the screen that would allow her to renew. she tried and tried, and she trolled the help forums, and she logged in to her account a dozen different ways, and she could. not. do it. she got so panicked her pits started to excrete that extra-stinky stress sweat. you know what i mean. it doesn't happen to me - i got pit lipo and sucked away all my sweat glands - but i've smelled plenty of stinky stressed-out bitches. you know what i'm talking about.

her anxiety was eqx esqui equix awesome.

but all good things must come to an end, and she finally found the key to the renewal screen, so you people are just going to have to put up with this shitty blog for another year, which is totes not my fault. i just work here, and it's a crappy job at that. frankly, i'm appalled at your taste in websites. you're, like, really easily amused.

ermahgerd it's a monkey wearing clothes lol.

but shut up and listen for a minute. because not only did chuck figure out how to pay for her own stupid blog - which i'm sure will be on her lifetime "top 10 list of really obvious things i figured out" - but also she discovered how to do something else she's been wanting to do for a long time. and in a moment of finally not being completely lame, she did it.

she gave me my own email address, y'all.

aaaawwwww hell yeah.

i like totally exist now. i can talk to people, and i can go on facebook and i can have a twitter thing and i can order expensive garbage on amazon and leave stupid reviews that everyone goes hahahaha hey george takei look how funny these bogus amazon reviews are. and i can go on dating sites and comment on other people's awful blogs and...

...and i...

I told myself i wouldn't cry.

i have an email address. i bet i can hire freaking beyonce
to cry for me.

so, yeah, chuck? whatevs, i'm not taking your starch any more, girl. i have email now. watch out, internet, tabby is on your webs, subscribing to your feeds.

oh, and it's tabby(at)always-drunk.com. like, say hi and whatnot. unless you're one of those nigerian princes or selling viagra. i will cut a bitch that tries to get me to share my confidential banking information or make my dick hard. the internet is no place for lies and scams. duh.

tabby(at)always-drunk.com. that's me. kluvyubye.

ciao,
tabby

Tabitha Takes on Bad Choices

Note: Page admin Tabitha really wants to write the last post of 2013 (or, depending on where you are in the world, the first post of 2014). If she wants to spend her New Year's Eve ranting, who am I to stop her? I wish all my Drunkards a very Happy New Year, and as always, I have no control over what she writes. Apologies as necessary. - CB

she is so stupid.

hi, y'all. tabby here. i'm going to tell you a story.

snuggle up, everyone.

last night, a certain blogger - who i won't name but who is a huge loser and doesn't let me guest-post nearly often enough - got upset with a certain friend. turned off the computer and went to bed, in fact. because - oh listen to this, this is beautiful - because he said he was going to eat frosting out of a can.

that's a fucking coping strategy, amiright?

she won't admit this to anyone, but this unnamed blogger - who is an aries and has a weird fixation with monkey art - minds deeply that her friend makes unhealthy choices. takes it as a slap in the face, if you will. like maybe she thinks she should be worth staying alive for? i don't know.

don't ask me to go inside her head. it's scary. and fat.

here's the funny goddamn thing, though. while she's getting upset over her friend's bad choices, she's polishing off a bottle of vodka that she bought two days ago. i guess because she loves him enough to brine her liver for him.

there's a word for that, right? hyp...hippo...hypocree...

the hell with it. i'm not wordish. this works just as well.

people. own your bad choices. omigosh, i make bad choices, like, all the time. like that time i tried to ride an alligator. they are mean, nasty fuckers. i think that smile they make is a total scam. if those kittens hadn't come along and distracted the alligator, i don't know what might have happened to little old me that day.

feel free to infer that the fearless kitty vanquished the
large, killer reptile if it will help you sleep.

anyway. i've been reading all these end of the year blogs lately. and either everyone had a crappy year, or every blogger on the internet has been having a yearlong period with wicked cramps and their favorite panties keep getting ruined. because my gosh, the whining.

"my marriage tanked." "my mother got cancer." "i lost my job." "i'm a failure."

well, boo-fucking-hoo, people. I paid $2 extra for the spot-free rinse on my car wash, and there were spots on my car. you don't see me falling apart as if my dog died.

of course, i don't have dog.
they're so goddamn clingy.

my point is, i made the choice to shell out good money on a spot-free rinse, and i got burned. as the saying goes, caveat emptor (which is latin for "tough titties, bitch," if i'm not mistaken). all of our choices have consequences. you smoke too much, drink too much, sleep around, hang out in dive bars...there's gonna be consequences. you live a good, clean life and contract some horrible disease anyway...hell, you must have done something wrong. maybe your jesus isn't white enough.

if he doesn't look like ted neeley, i cannot even help you.

my point is, stuff happens. bad stuff. just, like, terrible stuff. because we're all awful people and deserve what we get. i mean, for some of us, it's pretty much a fucking injustice because we are slammin' hot and sexy, while other people should maybe actually breathe a sigh of relief because, when you balance what happens to them against what a drag they are, probably they're coming out a little ahead, although it may not feel that way to those people because they suck like a hull breach in deep space anyway i'm totally not naming names CHUCK.

brb. going to my happy place for a mo.

my point is, if stuff happens that makes you feel like a loser, you don't have to handle it like a loser. you don't have to go all drama queen and roll your damn eyes just because you've rolled snake eyes in the craps game of life, or because someone you love is destroying yourself right in front of you and you can't do anything about it because fuck you, you're not their mother. be cool, fool.

you know those people who nothing bad ever happens to them and their lives are perfect? like, their kids are all precious angels dipped in full-ride scholarships, and their house contains three specks of dust that they call "this horrible mess," and they're always apologizing for only bringing five dozen homemade cookies to the band concert because they had church, an hoa meeting, and accepting parent of the year from the pta all on the same day?

and their jesus makes ted neeley
look like some kind of semite.

you don't hear those people complaining, do you? certainly not about putrid little nothings like doubt, remorse, fear, or insecurity. the people who appear most perfect have learned to shut the hell up about shit like that. instead they focus on the positive, like how they're going to pull off pretending they can totally afford two car payments. or making themselves seem taller by throwing everyone else under the bus (it's hard to be tall when you're under the bus, yo).

and the result of all that positive attitude is that nothing bad ever happens to those people and they are so way better than you. they make that happen. purely by denying the reality of anything that might mess with their 10-foot jenga tower of forcing themselves to seem happy at all times.

is that really so damn difficult?

to sum up (in case you're a dumbass like some bloggers i know): if you want a good life, make good choices. then everything will be perfect. if you make bad choices, you'll never learn or grow or discover the inner strength that comes from admitting vulnerability. because that's not how life works, duh.

and if someone you love makes bad choices, what the hell do you care? it is soooo much easier to cut the off like an abcessed testicle than to see your own frailties reflected in theirs and try to accept them and yourself for what you are.

knowhutimean?

you could, like, make that your new year's resolution or something. or not. whatever.

don't start thinking i care. that's for chumps.

ciao, people. catch you in 2014.