Welcome to Leslie Dishes!!!!! Read my weekly rants regarding my dysfunctional upbringing, struggles with motherhood, intolerance for stupidity and life's general observations. You'll find that I tend to get myself into trouble....often. Read how I successfully manuever my way out of these debacles. Sometimes I'm just an idiot. Enjoy. ~Leslie Bosscher
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Fast forward 10 years
Take for example, the 4 year old girl that I saw in the lobby at my gym this morning. She was a tiny little thing with sparkly, tappy shoes and little pigtails. Darling. But not so darling when I listened to her parents pleading, begging and negotiating permission to send her to the day care for one hour so they could work out. It was like this:
Mom: Mommy wants to work out for one hour and then I PROMISE to take you swimming afterward.
Girl: No.
Dad: Yes. It'll be fun. You'll play while mommy and daddy exercise.
Girl: No.
Dad: Yes.
Girl: No.
Mom: Pleeeeease?
Devil girl: No.
Mom: Yes.
Girl: No
And so on and so forth. It was painful to watch. Now, I'm not the sharpest tack, but riddle me this. Who has two thumbs and predicts that she will grow up to be a spoiled, entitled, little bitch? This girl!!! At what point do parents forget who's in charge? Oh well...not my daughter.
Another person whose magic eight ball I'd love to take a peek at is the shitty playground bully. Ooooh, I'd give my teeth to take a peek at that dick head's future. Remember when you roughed up a few kids when you had the muscle to do so? And remember when you picked apart your classmate's weakness? Yeah? Well, keep remembering it because they're the ones that will be signing your paycheck someday. Well, that is when you're not serving time for the meth lab you've got down in your ma's basement.
And still another child I'd like to peek in on in 10 years? Kanye & Kim's baby. That child has been destined for rehab since the moment of conception.
Moving on... and yet another kid that I'd love to put in a time machine? The quintessential "coddled" child. The kid who can't do anything without his parents' constant manipulation. The parents who bribe, control and cunningly tweek everything from locker partners to play mates. You know the one; the kid whose name is typically followed by a groan from his peers. Bless her heart, ya gotta pity the kid. Poor thing doesn't stand a chance of succeeding in life. Not when mom & dad have so little faith in him
Guess who else I'd like to sneak a lookie loo at in another 10 years or so? Honey Boo Boo. We've all seen her mama, right? So we know what we're dealing with, yes? My prediction for Honey Boo Boo can only be described in the following sentence: Put your hands together and welcome her to the main stage, you remember her from her pageant days, Miss Honey Boo Boo!
I wish had a crystal ball. However, it doesn't take psychic capabilities to foresee what will likely become of these soon to be train wrecks.
Imagine if you will...
It's no big secret that I have an overactive imagination. I make up fights with people in my head. I imagine worst case scenarios and then act out how I'd respond in that situation. I've even gone as far as begged Jason to make a home manual for me in case he drops dead, I'll know what accounts belong to what bill, etc. I like to think that I'm a person who values preparation. Jason likes to think I'm neurotic. Tomato. Toe Mah Toe.
Last week, I dropped this doozy on Jason. I asked, "Remember when we flew to Vegas, you and the boys sat in the back while I sat up front like a boss? Well, if the plane were going down, would you prefer that I get up from my seat to be with you and the boys. Or would you prefer that I stay in my seat to ensure optimum safety? I mean, if I got up, I'd probably die no matter what, but if I stayed in my seat I could at least have a shot at surviving." Jason: (long pause) What is wrong with you?
Then, last night. Jason FLIPPED OUT over a soup that I'd made (lasagna soup, thanks PINTEREST!) Later on....
Me: So, you really like this soup, eh?
Jas: Oh, yeah. It's crazy good.
Me: So, let me run something past you.
Jas: Shoot.
Me: So, like if you die or divorce me and I were dating a new guy and I really, really wanted to take things to the next level, would you recommend that I make this soup? You know, as the clincher?
Jas: Define "next level."
Me: (waggle my eyebrows up and down)
Jas: Yes. But only if you use a LOT of pepper.
Me: But, what if my new man doesn't like pepper like you do?
Jas: Go away.
Why I'm glad I'm not a teacher
1. Germs. If one kid coughed on me or had pink eye in my presence, I think I'd run away screaming.
2. As if germs aren't bad enough, can we talk about the lice? I'd throw in the towel and hand in my resignation at the first lice outbreak.
3. I have terrible chalk board hand writing. My garage entry way door is painted with chalk board paint and every week I write my kids a funny, little message. I was staring at it the other day and noticing how my letters start out big and straight, then they kind of run down hill and take on a life of their own. This is the moment when I thought to myself, "Whoa. I sure am glad I'm not a teacher!"
4. I swear. A lot. Like, a lot, a lot. Not just a little. And that isn't conducive for a classroom.
5. I'd get too attached or unattached to names and then I'd feel an unintentional association with that name from that day forward, good or bad. I'll explain. If I had a Sterling or a Jagger or some other douchebag name and he was a total asshole, I'd hate every kid with that name forever and ever. On the other hand, my niece is named Sydney and she was born an entire decade before the whole "Sydney-craze", so now I automatically love every Sydney that I meet, even if she's an asshole. Plus, it would make naming my children or pets very difficult. Jason: How about Mary for our daughter? Me: No, I knew a Mary once and she had lice.
6. I'd never, ever be able to deal with the ridiculously obnoxious parents who would become over bearing and overly involved with my teaching, field trips & classroom procedures. I would ultimately hate their kid because I'd associate the obnoxious parent with the kid and then the kid wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning my affection. Plus, with a mom like that, you just know her kid would be that bratty, obnoxious kid that no one ever wanted to play with. Except the mom would be like a pit bull and she'd make kids play with him/her.
7. If I were a teacher, I'd probably be a bad parent. I'll explain. I'm not saying this is true all the time, but I've noticed that sometimes when parents are teachers, they'll give their own kid a pass because they think they've got the inside scoop on education. Maybe they'll say, "Oh, I'll let my kid go in late this week because he was up late every night during March Madness. Who cares, it's ONLY 4th grade." Or, "So what that he's a bad speller. It's not like he won't have spell check later in life." Or even, "I just did her book report for her, it's easier that way." Again, I'm not saying this is true for every teacher, I've just noticed some friends of mine that are teachers are a bit more relaxed when it comes to their own child/student. I know me and I know if I had to teach all day, there is no way that I'd be able to put 100% into my kids' homework. I'd be exhausted!
8. Speaking of being exhausted, I'd be exhausted! I swear, every time I volunteer in my first grader's classroom, I'm soooo tired when I leave. Those yahoos literally suck the life out of me. And they're loud. And I make a point to tell the teacher, "I don't know how you do this every day." Kids are all 'talky' and stuff...
9. I don't like all the extra stuff. Conferences, field trips, development days, holiday parties, etc. Well, I don't really like all that teachy stuff either, so it's safe to say I don't like any of it. Because of my undiagnosed A.D.D. and hyperactivity and unfortunate buck teeth, I didn't like school when I was in school, so I guess it's really no shock that I don't like it now.
10. Let's not overlook the MAIN reason I'm glad I'm not a teacher. I'm dumb. And I'm always looking for short cuts. I'd be all "3 times 5 is 23? Works for me. Let's move on." I also hate social studies and history, so I'd be like, "Let's see open your books to chapter 13. In this until we'll be covering World War 1. Ew. Well, that's super boring, so let's talk about my outfit. Cute, right?"
I've said it before and I'll happily say it again....GOD BLESS THE GOOD TEACHERS!!! Better them than me! It takes a very, very special person to do it and let's face it, I'm just not that special.
Humble roots
Maybe you wonder why I am the way I am. Maybe you wonder how someone could be so loosey goosey with substances and ethics. Or why I seem to have a sharp, edginess to me. Perhaps you question the way in which I parent my boys. For your viewing pleasure, I've uploaded a few photos from my childhood. You might find explanation within these photos. From my vault, please enjoy the dysfunction at a glance.
Yeah. That happened. I was 11 and apparently it was perfectly acceptable to photograph your eleven year old while she's holding a ciggy and "pretending" to drink wine. If you ask me, I was brilliant. They thought I was just being fun and playful. But really, I was just tricky at finding new ways to get bombed. Look at me PRETENDING to drink (glug glug glug) and smoke. It was a fine arrangement. And let us not ignore the tragedy that is....my hair. The bangs. The back. The sides. You've heard the saying, "A face only a mother could love" It was exactly like that, except for the love part. I mean, look at me for God's sake! This is likely where the downward spiral and self medication began.
They say the most important relationship you'll ever have is the one with your same sex parent. If ever a photo were to capture or personify my relationship with my mom, this would be the one. Look how natural and close our embrace is. Is this the most awkward hug you've ever seen in your life? I can't tell who is turning away from whom! To be fair and in my mom's defense, she's probably pulling away from me because I smelled like Busch Light and Virginia Slims. If there were a bubble over her head, it would read, "uuuuhh-kay" as in, "Uuuuhh-kay, we hugged. Take the Goddamn picture and be done with it, for fuck's sake."
While this particular photo doesn't really spill any secrets or uncover any profound truths, I still howl every time I catch a glimpse of this rare gem. Her perfectly manicured nails say "I've got it going on." And her stone washed, pleated jeans say, "I try not take myself too seriously." But there's no mistaking that smile. It's the smile that says, "Oh, hell yeah my daughter just gave me a new Precious Moments to add to my collection of four!" Guess which daughter gave her the infamous figurine? Hint: not me. I probably gave her a coupon book filled with hug coupons that year. (See above photo)
And finally. Although this photo was taken nearly 2 decades ago, it could just as well be me today. Well, except for the nude nylons and the formica countertop. And the phone cord. And the coiffed hair. Actually, my mom pulled herself together quite nicely by 7 A.M. I don't usually look that presentable until at least 3 P.M. But, nevertheless, here she is. Sitting, reading the circulars, like she do. Talking on the phone to her favorite daughter. Again, hint: not me. If you added yoga pants, a ponytail, stainless appliances and a laptop, this would be the exact position you would find me in on any given morning. Talking on the phone to my sister, or a girlfriend about last night's Real Housewives. After all, we're all our mothers' daughters, aren't we? No matter how hard we try to break that mold. When this photo was taken I was a college, sorority girl, hippy-wanna-be, joker, smoker, midnight toker, heavy drinking, under achiever. Two decades and twenty years later...I've brought to the table a husband, a mortgage, two great kids, a decent following, a mediocre career as a comedic writer...I wonder if she'd like me today. I wish I could ask her.
Speaking of photos. I was browsing my followers on the Leslie Dishes facebook page (yes, I do my homework) and I noticed that a lot of you have some sort of alcoholic reference as your profile picture. I love it. These are my people. I am one with my people. While I don't get down nearly as much as I used to, I absolutely love that my readers are mostly alcoholics. Also? You all have trashy, trucker mouths too. Which causes me to frantically wave my hands in front of my eyes because they brim with tears and pride when you appropriately swear at me. Mama loves you and she loves your filthy messages! And for crying out loud, will more of you like my Facebook page? 95 likes?? Really? That's pathetic. This blog averages over 600-800 readers a post, but only 95 of you like my facebook page? Makes no sense! No dolla's, no cents!
H.E.L.P.
I'm without a cell phone until this evening. It's 9:45 in the morning and I've been cut off from all communication since 7:30 last night. When I say, "all communication" obviously I mean cellular communication, as I still have my house phone, iPad & laptop. But, those don't count because, hell-o, they just don't.
It is now 9:58 and the minutes seem like hours. I feel cut off from modern society. I wonder if Obama is still in office. I wonder which trends are new and I wonder if I'll adapt to them. It would be helpful to find support for myself as I integrate into today's fast world.
10:17. My texting fingers have atrophied. My eyes are dialated and I don't recognize much of the outside world.
10:19. As I patiently wait for a rescue, the minutes tick like days on a calendar.
11:00. Poured myself a bowl of Kashi. Spilled it all over the floor because my hand/eye coordination is so weakened.
11:39. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. My house phone rang earlier and I just stared at it, dumbfounded that I no longer know how to work a simple household appliance. I looked like a monkey trying to work a microwave. Except probably worse, because a monkey likely knows how to use a house phone.
1:47 The seasons seem to be changing from where I sit. I've spent my day reflecting on the past. For example, I thought about the good old days. Like yesterday, when I texted my friend and told her something funny. It seems strange, but that joke is so irrelevant now.
3:55 Woke up from a nap. I wish I could go back to sleep because at least then I'm temporarily taken out of my misery.
6:24 It's Friday night and it's dinner time. But I have absolutely no idea how I am going to get the food from the place where food is, to my mouth. I suppose I could just make something, but again, it's Friday night and I'd hate to mess with my already compromised routine. Plus, how would I know how to make anything? All my recipes are on Pinterest and I access that from---you guessed it--my phone. (sigh)
9:47 I just decide to say 'fuck it' and go to sleep. No point in staying awake and prolonging this agony. I know exactly how heroine addicts feel. It's basically the same thing, but worse. I'm hoping to win a Purple Heart medal or at the very least, a handicapped parking sticker, for the grim circumstances that I've endured. I imagine my town will stand up and clap slowly once I've put this ordeal behind me.
10:12 It's entirely possible that I'm over dramatic.
Bullshit-o-meter
My husband/wife is my best friend. We have a great marriage.
Oh really? Then why advertise it? Sounds to me like someone is trying to sound convincing, no?
My children are so amazing. They're smart, creative and beautiful.
No they aren't. Know how I know that? If they were so smart, creative and beautiful, you probably wouldn't have to tell people that. It would just be known. My oldest son recently told me that a kid at his school constantly talks about how great he is at lacrosse. Then the boy tells me, "he only says that because he isn't." Now THAT boy is smart! A wise woman once said to me, "Those who can, do. And those who can't....buy expensive gear to try and make up for the fact that he can't." I'm strongly considering getting this tattooed on my body.
We have a lot of money. Look at all that we can afford.
Nope. Sorry. I don't buy it. I see that you buy a lot of expensive things, but that rarely means you can afford it. Like my good friend Camille Grammer once said, "Those who have money don't feel the need to talk about it." I love that Camille.
I'm so busy.
I doubt it. If you were really that busy, you wouldn't have the time to tell me how busy you are.
I love being a mom.
Bullshit. No one loves being a mom.
I like helping people.
No you don't. You like telling people that you like helping people so that you can seem more charitable.
I'm a good person.
Again, I say....nope. Good people never need to tell anyone that.
Aren't I funny?
I wish. It's so exhausting being the funniest person in the room. But, sorry--you're not that funny. And I know funny.
Look how much I do for this school/church/office!
Look how much mundane work I create for myself just so that I can rattle off all the things that I do!
I'm an excellent cook.
Uh...I'll be the judge of that.
Oh, we have the best sex life.
Or not.
I'm so successful.
At what? Being a douchebag?
We are such good friends, aren't we?
Um. How shall I say this? If you have to remind anyone of that, you're probably not.
**As for not loving being a mom. Oh, relax. I was kidding. I love it. Usually.
Quiz: Are You Normal?
I've created a quiz that should help deliver personal insight into whether you are weird, neurotic, OCD, ADD or maybe just stupid.
1.) Charter comes to your house to upgrade your bundle package. Technician leaves you 3 new remotes. Do you:
A. Throw the remotes in a drawer where they'll never see the light of day again.
B. Appropriately place them in each designated spot and threaten to choke anyone who moves them.
C. Haphazardly throw them onto the couch, where they'll slip between the cushions and remain from now until eternity.
(HA! This was a trick question! The correct answer would obviously be D. Handle the new remotes with BBQ tongs, then dip them in hand santizer as to ward off the hepititis that has been growing on it since it's last owner. Do you NOT know that most toilet seats are cleaner than remote controls?? Gross. I bet you never sanitize your cell phone either.)
2.) You have five things to do in a day; grocery shop, walk dog, gym, pick up dry cleaning and get a car wash. But you only have time for 3 out of 5 tasks. Which three do you choose to do? Choose carefully.
A. Walk dog, gym, wash car
B. Dry cleaning, car wash, grocery shop
C. walk dog, grocery shop, dry cleaning
(Wrong again. The correct answer is D. Grocery shopping. Although it seems like it's only 1 task, it's actually 3 because you still have to clean out the fridge, organize the pantry and put food away. Duh. Don't overextend yourself for God's sake)
3. You have plans to do something that you're not really looking forward to. Maybe a dreaded bridal shower (aren't those are the worst?) or putting in face time with your boss (who am I kidding? I haven't worked since Clinton was in office) or maybe you have to attend someone's birthday dinner, except you you can't stand her or her nerdy friends. Do you;
A. Lie through your scuzzy teeth and say that you're sick.
B. Suck it up and go.
C. Pop in for the obligatory half hour then sneak out
(You can do whatever you want, but what works best for me is to D. Create drama among the group prior to the event. Maybe start a rumor that the hostess is mad at her sister because she didn't acknowlege her daughter's First Communion. Then sit back and watch the turmoil unfold. The event will likely be cancelled and you barely have a drop of blood on your hand. I will also accept E. Show up at the event with a bucket of popcorn and watch the sisters duke it out from your front row seat. Win win!)
4. Your husband notices a certain expensive purchase on your AMEX and he's furious at your frivolous attitude about spending money. Do you:
A. Apologize and send it back?
B. Tell him to shut up and go back to work.
C. Offer to pay him back in butt-bucks.
(If you said A, you're pathetic. If you said B and you lived to tell about it, then your husband is a spineless wimp. I'll accept C in this scenario, but then I'll likely tell everyone you're a whore. My answer would be D. Cry and tell him that you have daddy issues and you're filling the void of your father with meaningless items. He'll think you're hormonal and he'll leave you alone).
5. You continuously have issues with an overzelous helicopter mom up at your kids' school. Do you:
A. Be the bigger person and let it go.
B. Make life very difficult for her until she loses her shit and winds up being hospitalized for exhaustion.
C. Do nothing. Sit back and watch karma do it's job while you and your friends shovel popcorn into your mouths while watching her shitty life hit the fan.
(All answers are completely acceptable. A. Will likely be the most preferred response. B. Would be the most gratifying. C. is the one that will help you sleep peacefully at night. Me? I'm more of a D girl which would be; D. Smile, nod then let the smoke fly from my fingertips as I take my frustrations out on my passive aggressive blog).
If you mostly answered A's then it's likely that we won't be good friends. B's, then you probably won't like me. C's, we can probably hang but our friendship won't evolve past superficial politeness. D's, get your ass over here. You know where we keep the glasses...
Also--for the love of the land, will you PLEASE like Leslie Dishes on Facebook? I've got like 89 friends on that page and that's just embarrassing. I don't like wasting my funny stories on just anyone...
Lost in Translation
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I realize that I often write in "Leslie-ese." If you aren't familiar with that language, allow me to translate for you. Basically, I was raised by my Jewish mother and although I'm not a practicing Jew, I have certainly adopted a lot of the mannerisms and culture. It can't be avoided. It's in my blood. And if you know anything about Jewish mothers, you know that they exaggerate pretty much everything. Jason calls these exaggerations, 'lies'. But what does he know? He was raised by a gaggle of Mexican women. Below is a dictionary for your convenience.
"Plotting my escape" This means that I'm hatching a scheme to get out of the house for a few hours. Sometimes I'll start laying the ground work days in advance. So, if you ever hear me reference that I'm plotting my escape, no--I'm not shackled to a pipe in the basement. Even though that's how it seems in my mind.
"A hostage situation"
I'll loosely use this term when Ben or Gabe have hijacked my attention and have gone off on a long, convoluted story with twists and turns. Just when you think the story is going to end and you begin to walk away, the story takes another turn and you know that you're going to be held hostage for at least another 10 minutes. My kids LOVE the sounds of their own voice (I wonder where they get it?), so when they tell a story, they will tell you in great detail, the color and texture of the carpeting of the place where the story took place. It's maddening. The whole time they're talking, I'm thinking that I'll be later found dead in that same spot and the coroner will take one look at me and say, "Wow. She looked really bored when she died."
"Uh. We've got a situation." This usually means Jason has to come home from work and clean up whatever bullshit I've gotten myself into." "Well. Are you ready for this?" This means, 'I'm about to blow your mind with what I'm about to tell you." (it's all about the build-up with me..) "No"
This usually means 'yes' but I just say no because I haven't thought up a back up answer to 'yes' yet. I'll provide an example. Jason: Is that new? Me: No. I've had it for months. I'm not lying per se, I just haven't figured out how to work an impromptu shopping spree into our evening dialogue yet. I will tell him eventually, but for some reason, my mouth automatically lies.
"We'll see"
This means no. I just don't have the strength to argue about it yet.
"Aaaanyway"
Whenever I say 'aaaaanyway' then pause for an awkward silence, that pretty much always means that I'm trying to wrap it up. It's my exit strategy. Please take note.
"I almost died" Ok, I probably didn't almost die, but something scary definitely could have happened in my general presence on or around the time that I was near there.
"I got something"
This means that I've become privy to some hot information and I'm about to share it with you.
"Well, who's a pretty boy?" It's rhetorical. I'm not taking suggestions. I'm never not referring to Winston in this scenario. Winston is always the prettiest boy. "Oh, you're fine."
Honestly, it doesn't matter if you're fine or not. When I say this, what I really mean is, "I don't have the energy to care." "Riiiiiight"
This means, 'not a chance in hell.'
"Kill me"
I'm really not inviting you to murder me, it simply means that I'd like to be temporarily put out of my misery. Like, if I'm stuck at a karaoke bar without a ride home. Or when my kids play the drums.
"Oh, stop."
It means, 'Keep going. I like what you're saying."
"Bitch, please"
This means, 'You don't know what you're talking about and I don't have the strength or the patience to explain it to you. But I always have the strength to say, bitch, please." Plus, it sounds hipster and urban.
"Excuse me?"
Oh, I'm not asking you to repeat yourself. I heard you. I'm just giving you a chance to rephrase it because whatever you said didn't sit well with me.
"I beg your pardon?"
This means, gurrrrrl, you better run.
"Pull yourself together!"
This means you're about to make a train wreck out of your life and I don't feel like getting on board.
"Well, it was great seeing you....."
This pretty much ALWAYS means, "I have nothing else to say and I'd like to get get away from you now."
"It's a vagina. Not a clown car."
This just means quit having kids. Your uterus is going to fall out.
and finally....
"Wow"
When I deliver my dry and unanimated 'wow' you can pretty much count on me calling everyone I know to tell them what you just said.
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The Resume'
Jason keeps referring to my "resume". No really, like--he keeps doing air quotes around the word resume. What's up with that? Just to show him who's boss, I've decided to share my imaginary resume that he's so quick to dismiss. Seems legit to me....
Leslie A. Bosscher
Resume
Mission Statement: I will lie in bed and think up shit that needs to be done. And then I’ll do it.
Work Experience
Important Business Woman; I did important business-like things, such as stapling and filing at a place that had papers and desks and phones that rang.
Family correspondent; I return phone calls. I make appointments. I look for items in the home environment, when I’m unsuccessful in locating said items, I go out and purchase said items.
Nurse; When people are sick or injured, I attend to it.
Chauffer; I drive family members from point A. to point B.
Publicist; I oversee holiday cards, birthday cards, condolence calls, calls of “concern” and facilitate social disputes (drunken apologies and/or damage control with regard to PTO offenses).
Philanthropist; I collected money for coaches’ gifts and spent allotted money on specified gift cards. I helped raise over $14 for Crestwood Elementary School’s Crohn’s disease fund raiser. I buy copius amounts of Girl Scout cookies and I volunteer at wrestling sign-ups. Sometimes I even help out in my kids' classrooms. I'm charitable that way.
Detective; I dig deep to blow the lid off every story, scandal, exploitation, injustice and infraction. Oh yeah, I own that shit.
Style/etiquette/domestic authority; Um, all ya’ll nasty bitches? I'm coming for you. If I see you looking too good, too fat, too fancy, too dirty, too loud, too opinionated, too helpful, too greedy, too selfish, too enthusiastic, too happy, too sad, too busy or too bored, I'll call your ass out. Or at the very least I'll call my friends and we'll discuss it for three days straight. Because we have it going on.
God; I pretty much keep three people and two animals alive all day, every day. Sooo, there’s that…..
Mad Skillz
I can organize pretty much anything. I just don’t really want to.
I can move furniture from one side of the room (wait for it) to the other.
With the help of Pinterest, I can turn pretty much anything from ‘eh.’ to ‘fuck yeh!’
I'm just worried that this resume makes me seem overqualified..... It'll probably keep me from getting that dream job...
That girl is funny looking!
Hm... Well, isn't that a shame? I mean, that is definitely not the first time I've ever heard that. Funny girls are usually not pretty and pretty girls aren't typically funny. Which immediately reminded me of a guy I went out with a few times in college. He said to me (I kid you not) "You're not like the other girls I've dated. I usually only date beautiful girls, but you're like...funny." Wow. Awesome. Thanks. I'm sure my low self esteem accepted that as a compliment and went about our date at Applebees.
So, to all the girls that are more concerned with what they look like than having fun and laughing, I say, "Lighten the fuck up." Seriously, if you can't be fun and ridiculous with your girlfriends, then what good is it? Here's the thing, when you're old and you look back on your life are you going to think, "Damn, I was fierce!" No! You're going to reflect on those (hopefully) countless times you laughed until you peed and snorted! If you're disagreeing with me right now because you're too cool, then I feel sorry for you.
I recall years ago, an acquaintance of mine told me not to smile or laugh too hard because I'd get wrinkles. This chick was/is a very shallow person. At the time, I immediately went home and started stating my case for botox, but after a while and once I'd gotten a little more comfortable in my skin, I realized that I'd take laugh lines over a lifetime of beauty any day. If that person said that to me today, I'd probably tell her to enjoy her frozen face, boring life. Me? I'd rather laugh.
But, back to the beginning, why choose between pretty and funny? I'm 100% more of a personality person than a "looks" person anyway. I think that confidence, wit and brains are what make me attractive. Listen, I've never won a beauty contest, but when I think about the times that I've been approached by a man, it's always when I'm with my girlfriends and we're dying laughing and being stupid. That translates into confident & fun which later translates into attractiveness. Got it? Good!
So, quit worrying about what you look like and get silly! I do. And I'm a blast!
have fun. funny girls are sexy. Don't be so damn concerned about your image. Ya gotta keep it rull and lighten the fuck up.
