Tangents & The Times

I used to have anxiety attacks in high school
about ending up a cat lady:
middle-aged, single, drunk, bloated and fat in a mint-teal moo moo crying over a tub of Willie Nelson’s Peach Cobbler special edition Ben & Jerry’s, watching You’ve Got Mail with my twelve cats.

Yes, twelve.
A collective tribe of Scottish Folds, Persians & Siamese.
And a couple little tabbies for good measure.
Yeah, I’ve thought about this.
A lot.

But not anymore.
Now my biggest fear is ending up as this middle aged broad in the dark blue shirt:

OoOo! I’m married and have a sweet track home kitchen full of sweet mom bowls from Pier One filled with fruit I bought at Ralphs (but its Organics!) for my wide variety of diverse friends (possible lovers?) to come hang out and edit sweet party vidz of our sweet party where there is
FOUR OF US HUDDLED OVER A SONY FUCKING VAIO.
OoOo! I LOVE SNAP!
Who doesn’t LOVE editing photos of themselves at the party they are at?!
You know what, Bonnie.
You’re right.
LET’S PLAY IT BY EAR AT OUR SWINGING WINDOWS SOIREE!
HAHAHAHA I LOVE PRETENDING I’M HAVING FUN SETTING UP WINDOWS!
BONUS ACTITIVES!
WE’RE NOT SALES PEOPLE!
& WE’RE NOT EXPERTS!
IT’S A PARTY!
HAHAHAHA!

But, for the record,
I did
FIVE ACTIVITIES.

BITCH.

& I twittered it.
Because I am that “up to date” and am the “hip computer mom”.

Christ.