I finally did it.
I completely caved and let another thing I read about and saw on blogs control and change my world.
I reorganized my closet by color.
What? You don’t think this is big news.
I’m here to tell you it is. This is what you have to look forward when you’re old and boring like me.
My closet used to be organized as long sleeve shirts on top and short sleeve shirts on the bottom rack. Colors willy nilly everywhere.
Then I kept seeing pictures of closets where women put all the colors together.
I knew it would be quite an undertaking but I did it anyway.
Then the anal OCD freak inside of me had to figure out the order of my colors which took longer than I care to admit. I ended up using the rainbow. You know – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. Then white, black, brown and gray and patterned.
I kid you not – the next day my arms were so sore I could barely move.
I should have counted it as a workout.
Do you want to know what this little exercise taught me?
That I’m way more boring than I thought I was.
The rainbow colored section from red to purple is – hmmm – how shall we say it?
Blacks, browns and whites? Oh holy shit a brick – way, way, way too many.
How did I let this happen?
That’s right. I got old. Shitballs.
After that strenuous little bit of exercise I did, I decided to read blogs. I have since decided that when you’re feeling old and boring – blog-reading is not advised.
Blogging is terrible for my self esteem when I’m having a pity party.
Case in point:
I get mad at the fashion bloggers because A – they have the patience and intelligence to figure out how to work camera timers and B – they look smashing in their bright RED pants and PURPLE shirt. The only thing white on them is their damn skin.
I get mad at the workout/fitness bloggers because they get to post full faced sweaty pictures after working out. I want to shank them because it’s totally their fault that I’ve chosen to stay anonymous.
I hate the bloggers who show pictures of their houses that are straight out of a Better Homes and Garden magazine. Mostly because I’m too busy playing tag with the dust bunnies to worry about actual cleaning. I didn’t realize that tables were meant to eat meals on.
I thought they were the “catchers of all the shit that has nowhere else to go.”
I want to shank women who give me hair tutorials and say, “Anyone can do this – I promise!” LIAR LIAR pants on FIYAH. Heifer. I’d have to have long, luxurious, thick hair you dildo. In case you haven’t noticed, my hair is as fine as baby ass hair. I have like 36 strands total. Heifer.
I came across a blog where some woman was going on and on about rose petals in bed or something like that left by her husband and how that was true love. I mean really? Who blogs about true love? I mean could you get more lame? I haven’t taken the garbage out in at least 10 years. THAT is true love, chicky-poo.
(um yah – this whole paragraph is being sarcastic in case you didn’t catch that. I never shut up about “true love”. Gag me.)
Next up was a running blog. God love her but the girl just completed her 822nd marathon or something like that. I lost count. I’m jealous. The only thing I’ve ever run was….away. Far, far away from reality and into Care Bear Land. Does that count?
On to the new motherhood blogs. Why do I do this to myself? No stretch marks? Love it. Baby sleeps through the night since birth? Woohooo. You fit in your pre-pregnancy jeans already? Hot damn! Phone is ringing off the hook because people want your child as a baby model? Of course they do. Seems I’m the only woman whose stomach looks like a city road map of stretch marks. Oh and my kid never slept through the night until she was TWO. Pre-pregnancy jeans? How could I know if they fit? I threw them out. And to top it off – my kid looked like a cone-headed alien when she came out. F*cking perfect.
The last straw was when I came across a blog with picture upon picture of a perfect family get together. I had no idea such things existed. It’s just mean to throw that out there to those of us who don’t live with the Brady Bunch with Leave it to Beaver as their neighbors. Extended family?
What the hell even is that? (that sentence was a grammar nightmare)
And of course there was the usual shit Drazil always says in my head as I read blogs too. Like…
Why can’t you write like that? This girl is ACTUALLY funny unlike some people I know. Ahem…
What a cute blog name. Hmmm – I bet you wished you’d have thought of that.
OMG, she’s gorgeous. Make sure you compare yourself to her constantly, ok?
Awww, this writer changes lives. Too bad you can’t do that. The only thing you’ve ever changed is a diaper (on an alien cone-headed child, remember?).
No one else was dumb enough to make their inner demon the star of their blog.
Bet you’re regretting that about now, huh?
Yes Draz. I am. I hope you die a painful death. Then I’ll turn you into a blue leather coat.
After all – the point of this whole day was learning that I need more color in my boring closet.
(Disclaimer: 99% of the time I love ALL of the blogs I just dissed. Calm down, ok?)