dear facebook

You wanted NOTHIN' to do with me yesterday, so you only get a little bit of me today. That, and after spending an evening in a new WalMart with the Worlds Greatest Niece, I am full of pure pleasure and have absolutely nothing to be snide about.

Honest: I am very nervous about school. I know I will not have pigs blood poured on me nor will I be forced to wear a t-shirt that says “I only learned how to cut & paste instead of copy & paste four months ago” but my anxiety level is still very high. Everybody is being very mega supportive and there is nothing like your Mama telling you how smart you are to make your heart all buttery melty, but I’m pretty sure my Mama will not be stepping in as all of my Profs and I’m also pretty sure I can’t charm them the way I do Nuv with a cup of tea and shutting the fuck up when he’s reading his comics. So what tactic do I take? Oh my God, will I be able to not swear in front of them? When I attempt to watch my language with Nuv’s mom I sound like Eddie Haskell all “that’s keen!” and “oh my gracious goodness!”

You do it to yourself, you do. And that's why it really hurts:
Not every month, just the months where I'm feeling flush & giddy, or we're at the ferry terminal where I become a sweet sucker for 750 pages of advertisements, I buy Vogue magazine. Enough time passes between purchases of said tome that I forget how devastated and destitute reading this magazine can make me feel. Every person they profile; every destination promoted; every photo shoot; every single thing in there is so rarefied and luscious and goddamn out of my reach, that I get so profoundly sad
when I put it down for a sec to wipe my bum ( HA HA! JUST KIDDING. Reading in the bathroom is for people not like me. YUP.) I seriously doubt I will ever see in person those stunning hidden exotic locales that must smell like spicy oranges and seaweed; I will never own a home that has a view you could watch for the rest of your life. I will never be pin thin enough to wear a pencil skirt without looking like I have stashed 6 staplers in each pocket. Reading this magazine is detrimental to my mental health & I really need to stop, drop it and pick up Popular Science instead.