Some people are nitpicky, I’ve realized, to the point where that’s all they see and they don’t get the full message.
After I wrote my blog last night (which I thought was very funny, but that’s just me), I checked the Boneyard to see if anyone had commented on it (I’m utterly vain, plus I like to see what the people over there think about my doings in NYC). VTCWBuff quoted all the times I referenced anything related to poop, which in itself is hilarious, I give him or her kudos for the c/p job. He or she then wondered whether I was a) trying to be hipster literati or b) trying to sound grown up.
Well, despite what Dad may tell you, I am a grownup. I live by myself, I have a job that keeps me busy, and I work hard. Also, if I wanted to sound hipster intelligent and full of myself, I would’ve namedropped all of the Ernest Hemingway books that are in my bookshelf right now just waiting to be read, or the copy of Lolita on my dresser, as well as the Complete Works of William Shakespeare that’s been pored over four dozen times (I had Romeo and Juliet memorized when I was eleven. Geek=me). One of my favorite films is Amelie as well as Trainspotting, and I listen to singers like Ane Brun, Hawksley Workman, Emiliana Torrini, and Sia. And, yes, I shop at Urban Outfitters. I’m also a huge Lord of the Rings nerd.
Other stuff I like? Gossip magazines, Britney Spears, reality shows, the gym, getting my nails done, chick lit (one of my favorites books of all time is Bridget Jones’ Diary) and stupid, stupid comedy movies like Anchorman and The Hangover.
So in conclusion, I like to think of myself as an intelligent person who happens to curse. I’ve held back on you guys, I swear. In public and in blog form, I try to be as gracious and non-cursewordy as possible. But I do swear, and I won’t apologize for it. If you grew up with my dad, you’d be practically bilingual too. And I ain’t talking about English/Italian.
And one more thing: If all you got from that last entry was that I refer to bowel movements more than the average person, I urge you to look again and see the entire story. The story itself is about how even if I did bomb miserably (which thank our Heavenly Father I didn’t), I was still going to wake up on Tuesday morning the most loved child in the universe in my parents’ eyes. And that should have been all that counted. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it in the way that I said it. But hey…shit happens…
PS. Also, sometimes when something makes me laugh, I write it in here. The line about throwing my own poo on the walls? I literally had to take a break from typing because I cracked myself up. I’m so easily amused by everything.