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Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Cowgirls and assless chaps

I decided to stalk myself to see exactly how easy or difficult it may be. I googled my name and clicked on anything that sounded like it could be mine. Now I could just be retarded but I couldn't find my name or address which was pretty reassuring. My blog doesn't pop up unless I add ”digressions” to my name. So for all you creepers who find me through google, now I know you're return visitors or someone referred my page to you. Innnnteresting. Another fun fact, some creeper has been emailing my URL to other fellow creepers through Yahoo. Sneaky sneakyyy, little snake in the grass.

So as my narcissistic self-creep continued, I found my long lost Myspace. What a blast from the past. I don't miss was waaayyy too hard to creep on that antiquated nonsense. So anyways I found some of my old blogs and OH my God! Heyyy teenage nutcase Shawndy. I really don't remember writing any of that stuff. I was delighted and tickled nipple pink that I could write so articulately back then. If you could sense a smirk through writing, your smirk radar would be off the charts. If I'm less lazy another day I'll copy/paste one of them. But DAYUM!.Someone must have pissed me off cause I wasn't exactly writing to my grandma if ya know what I mean. I can just see my smart ass boyfriend saying ”oh so nothing has changed...?” Ha. I beat you.

Anyways besides those two things, I didn't dig up any other dirt on myself. Maybe I need some insight on how to stalk? Then again I really don't give enough of a shit about anyone to the point of stalking their asses. I guess very VERY rarely I will wonder what my narcissistic, dysfunctional family members (most of them) are doing with their lives. And then I remember oh yeah I promised myself that not a single fuck shall be given today. Or tomorrow or the next. If they read my blog at all, well, then you're welcome for giving you all something to talk about on Easter. You know you laugh into your sweaty hands when everyone else is asleep. I do, anyway.

I got my work schedule for next week and I think for the first time since I was in high school I have Valentine's day off. Whaaaattt? Well slap my ass and call me Bertha. This is unreal. I'm kinda mad about it. Chris is working. Wtf and I going to do??

I should hustle my single friends and go out for drinks. I can pretend I'm one of those bitter girls who refer to vday as ”singles awareness day”. Cute and catchy but very straightforward. We get it, your vibrator isn't cutting it. Maybe buy one of those coin operated horse rides? You can strap one on it and for a quarter you'll have the best orgasm of your life. Or just lay in an L-shape in your bathtub. Don't act like you have no clue what I'm talking about. Now you know why coin horses are so expensive.

I want one.


For my future children. And to capitalize on my friends who come over and wanna see how it works. You know your drunk ass would love to saddle up and pretend you're a cowboy/girl sensation. I'd probably ride it with assless chaps and of course boots. A hat. Anything else optional. I should probably mention that this dress code is for friends. My children will not own assless chaps until they are at least 14. That's plenty of time to prepare.

I wish I had some on right now cause I'm being summoned by my bladder. Invite only; love, toilet. I would blog from my exclusive bathroom visit but my phone needs to charge and I don't have anything important to say :)


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