Evidence I Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Have a Blog (Also: Calling All Aspiring Copywriters + Wordsmith Sexpots)
May 22, 2012
I like lists.
Don't you like lists? I mean, who doesn't need a good list in their lives? That said, in the name of honoring their holier-than-thou nature, today is officially list day on TMFproject.
Dun dun dun DUN! Sound the alarm! Cue the horns! Signal the ponies!
There's really just one problem with list day, however, which I quickly discovered when I sat down, coffee in hand, to write aforementioned (and highly academic) list:
What to list?
A troublesome pickle to find oneself in, if you ask me, particularly on LIST DAY, when there's overwhelming pressure to have GOOD LISTS. (Don't you like how I'm just going with list day as if it were actually official? Or important? Or relevant? Or REAL?)
So I sat down to do some brainstorming, as any slightly disturbed, vodka slugging, list-making maven would do.
Oh, the lists we shall create! *curls fake and non-existent handlebar mustache around pinky finger*
- Men I've recently slept with. No, no. Too slutty. And list would be frighteningly short.
- Embarrassing things I've done when martinis were involved. No. No one will ever talk to me again. Also, most of the first category would overlap with the second, which would ESSENTIALLY MAKE THEM THE SAME LIST.
- Number of times I should have died (but didn't.) Too depressing. And will reveal actual level of intelligence.
- Top 10 things you should stop doing if you ever want to make any money. Too hoax-ey marketer sounding. (Who are we kidding? I'm totally going to write that post.)
- Four hundred and one ways to skirt the topic, change the subject and avoid any type of commitment at all, forevermore. Apparently I'm a pro at this. Ask any of my ex boyfriends. That said, I probably don't need to blow my own cover. *curls mustache with even more zest*
- Ways to save the dolphins. Yeeesssssssss. Now we're onto something.
Just kidding–I don't know smack about dolphins.
Though I probably should, given that I've lived in Costa Rica off and on since, like, 1884. Roughly.
I'm pretty sure that what I'm trying to say here is that my options are limited. After men, vodka and money I apparently don't know much of anything else. Good thing I recently read an article on Yahoo about loving myself, which, despite doling out such earth-shattering advice, totally pissed me off, since Yahoo thought it would be funny to post to Facebook that I, Ashley Ambirge, read aforementioned pathetic article on at precisely 8:56pm EST, so every one of my 8,000 pretend friends would KNOW HOW MUCH OF A SORE LOSER I AM ON SUNDAY NIGHTS.
Yahoo is stupid.
I'm over it.
I'm pretty sure that's a wrap.