11
Nov
10

My super-duper, unapologetically long manifesto, or, “yes, i’m 30. whooptee fuckin doo.”

I began this blog a little over a year ago.

I was finally dealing with a breakup from a man I’d dated on and off for the better part of six years, and coming to grips with what I’d considered an indeterminate future.

I was 28, roughly a year into my second law firm job, and a little uncertain with respect to what a rational, responsible adult my age was supposed to look like.

A year prior, at 27, I’d come to the conclusion revelation that nothing in this world truly mattered. Not in the way we all seemed to think it did, rather. I wasn’t becoming cynical, or apathetic; it just occurred to me that I’d spent the majority of my life placing great emphasis on so many bullshit things, never stopping to consider the temporal nature of it all.

New me was on some “We pass this way but once” type shit.

New me was in the midst of a full on conversion to Epicureanism.

New me codified her sentiments in an idiom she proclaimed to whoever would listen. “Life is long, but youth is short,” New me would say.

The expression gave me life, and indeed, some limited sense of purpose. Every time I breathed it, aloud, into open air, it was a license to tomfuckery.

While I was taking babysteps to my freedom from institutionalized patterns of thought and behavior back then, it would be another two years before I crossed into full-fledged i-don’t-give-a-damn-ery.

Which brings us to present day.

In less than one month I will be 30.

As I couldn’t give a hearty damn about some arbitrary number the world at large has capriciously designated a milestone in my own personal life—a life, about which “the world” knows nothing—I’ve given the occasion little thought.

But all about me, everyone seems to care.

I mean care, care.

Like, 30 is big shit to a lot of people.

Everywhere I turn, there are these lists—Things to Do Before You’re 30, What You Should Know By 30, 30 Things to Do Before You’re 30­—and it all just seems like hogwash to me; a complete waste of time. If a naturally occurring, chronological determinate date, over which you have absolutely no control, is the marker by which you assess your current life state, you need to get another fucking life. Like, ASAP.

But………..from all I’ve observed, some cursory bout of self-reflection, demonstrated in list-format is appropriate.

I’ll comport with custom—kinda—one final time, for the cheap seats….

10 Things You Should Do When You Finally Wake Up and Realize It Doesn’t Fucking Matter 

 

1. Give in to your anger and tell someone who deserves it an emphatic “Fuck you,” “Fuck Off,” or “Go Fuck Yourself.”

Thoreau said, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Seriously, there might not be a more depressing quote in existence.

It’s true, though. We expend immeasurable portions of our lives trying to perfectly fit into clearly-defined lines, telling ourselves to “grin and bear it.” In order for civilization to remain “civilized;” to prevent reversion to Rosseau’s proverbial “state of nature” where we fight it out like savage beasts at every pass, each of us must be occasionally willing to concede some ground in the face of conflict.

Fair enough.

The problem is, we’re conceding more and more, every day. This is particularly true for those of us set up in our dignified, hyper-educated, professional spaces. Our lives become this predictable pattern of acquiescence.

Here’s what you need to know. People can smell it on you. They can tell that you’ve been trained, systematized. And they will feed off of it; talk wild to you, firm in their reasoning that “You.aint.gon.do.sheeit.”

This is what I believe. You can stay in your lane every day of your life, if you so choose. It’s not going to make you successful; or a titan of industry. The real winners are the rogues, the cowboys, the desperadoes who are willing to occasionally push propriety aside and live on the margins.

Alas! Get thee to an f-bomb. If there is one message I’d like to leave this world with, upon my departure, it is, that nobody but NOBODY is above a well-timed f-bomb. NOBODY.

To date, I have told one client, and one doctor proclaiming himself to be terminally ill that they could go fuck themselves.

I have told one lawyer that he could represent to his client, on my behalf, my desire for him to go fuck himself.

I have told two men, with whom I’ve been romantically acquainted, to fuck off.

I have told the friend of one of one of those men,  that said romantic attachment could “Go fuck his mother.”

I’m still here.

And know what?

ALL of those people came back.

2.  Accept that honesty is NOT the best policy. You’re living in a fucking fantasy.

Anyone who tells you that honesty is the best policy lives one of two diametrically opposed realities: 1. He/She is *the* biggest asshole on the planet, or 2. He/She has the most bullshit ass monotonously boring life ever.

Look, I’m gonna give you some advice that is going to free you, okay?

Ready?

Lie.

Just.lie.okay?

You know the most popular thing people say when they’ve just revealed some great truth to another party? “I felt so relieved. It was as if this huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.”

Anyone wanna hazard a guess as to where all of that “lifted weight” goes?

Thhhhhhaaaaat’s right. Square on the shoulders of that motherfucker you just saw fit to bulldoze with alla that truth.

You think you’re this bastion of ethical righteousness because you chose to tell the truth? No, no. Try again. You’re a selfish asshole.

Look. If you love me, you need to go ahead and lie to me. Tell me I look thin. Tell me you like my blog. Tell me you didn’t fuck that girl. Just lie. Don’t think that our love is strong enough to overcome these monumental acts of betrayal. It’s not. Stop thinking that I’m a big enough woman to see to the heart of your affection for me and give you another chance. I’m not. Lie to me, baby. I’d do it for you.

The flip side is that you’re this mouse of a person, always dutifully seeing to the needs of others, putting your wants and desires behind everyone else’s. You’re this chaste virgin of the Hearth, ever-campaigning for wholesome happiness and sprinkles and rainbows to be spread throughout the Earth. You want for nothing but quiet simplicity, and to be a living, breathing personification of Christ’s love.

You don’t lie because you have nothing to lie about. You literally spend your days doing good deeds, or no deeds at all.

Really, good for you.

Personally, I’d rather die.

3.  Get up and wordlessly walk out of a room. Hang up on someone.

Look. I don’t know about you, but, my time is precious. I don’t have a whole lot of excess seconds and minutes to be passing time with a bunch of dicks. So, when I feel like a conversation has gotten to a place where I am no longer interested, or a place that is particularly aggravating or patently offensive, I simply take my leave.

I will walk out of a client meeting. I will walk out of an argument or a would-be argument with a friend or romantic interest. And you can bet that sweet ass I will hang up on a motherfucker. With a quickness.

But here’s how you have to do it in grown up stance—wordlessly.

Don’t knock any desks over. Don’t make any violently loud protestations. Only a bitchass makes a demonstration of strength only to dip and not deal with the repercussions. No, no. Yours is a quiet exit. It’s not about the physical act of your departure or the physical reality of the now-dead phone line. It’s your mental state of no-longer-give-a-fuck-ness that is important, here. It’s not about the other person at all. You are saying to yourself, “Wait.a.minute. I just stopped giving a damn. I’m gonna go.”

And here’s why.

Because.you.fucking.can.

It’s high time we all start to acknowledge the fact that we are grown ups. And you know what—save some jarringly illegal exceptions—I can do whatever the hell I want.

So I will.

4.  Be unapologetic about the amount of television you watch.

Okay. So right. There’s this “movement” among academics and intellectuals that’s been underfoot for a while. And it’s rooted in this hoity-toity, “I’m too smart to waste my time watching television; there’s nothing but trash on it anyway” stream of thought.

FUCK.

YOU.

Do you know how ridiculous you sound?

Do you know how many fucking channels there are?

Really?

Really?

There’s nothing of merit, nothing worthy of your attention, in a thousand channels?

How about the news, Numbnuts? You don’t think live broadcast programming of an interview conducted with Hamid Karzai is worth your time? Oh. Okay.

My love of television doesn’t make me an idiot, or some mindless nothing. And when I get home from my relentlessly demanding job, I watch “Bad Girls Club,” the entirety of the “Real Housewives” franchise, “Maury”—the trash of the trash, people. And, you know what, “I feels jes fine” about it ( © Shug Avery).

5.  Stop worrying about how fat/ugly you are.

Seriously. Just stop. It’s tired.

Do something about it, or shut the fuck up about it.

Just stop worrying about it. Stop letting that shit run you. 

If I could go back in time and tell my 15 year old self just one thing, it would be that personality is what matters the most in the get-ass game. Personality.

It’s what matters in the friendship game. It’s what matters in the professional game. Personality is everything.

You know the reason why everyone hates your ugly girlfriend, ladies? It’s not because she’s so ugly.

Oh, no. It’s because her ugliness has metastasized into this black nebulous of hateration. She’s discontent in her ugly status, and is prepared to use the full throttle of her ugly resources to bitch, whine, ruin your good time, cockblock you, and ultimately, attempt to slowly suffocate any happiness you are able to actualize.

NOT because she’s so damned ugly.

But because she can’t get over that shit.

Look. They can’t all be bangers. Some of us are destined to be trolls; “swamp donkeys” ( © S. Bernard Shaw, front-free.com).

Write some shitty spoken word about it and get the hell over it. You are a grown ass woman. What in the fuck do you look like crying about how you look? I need to go grab a drink and figure out how to make income in the midst of a recession, and your monkey ass don’t wanna go out because you got a pimple. Grow the fuck up.

6.  Put something ridiculous on display in your office and refuse to comment on it.

In my last office, in the midst of diplomas and law stuff, I had: a plastic, bloody, severed arm, a book on my desk called Apes and Monkeys, and a stapler completely bejeweled in pink rhinestones.

The point?

Even if your job is serious, it’s not that serious.

I don’t give a damn what you do.

“You are not your job.”–Tyler Durden.

That’s right.

Fight Club.

I just went there.

You’re welcome.

The truth of the matter is, no matter what you do; no matter how good you are at it; no matter how many awards and accolades you receive—no one will ever be able to truly appreciate how much you give, or how much you contribute. Even if you devote all of your time to making other people’s lives better. When it’s all said and done, we’re all too caught up in our own shit to ever truly understand the extent of the sacrifices others have made on our behalf. It’s fucked up, but true.

And, oh yeah, by the way—

You’re expendable.

Like FUCK.

So go ahead and cover the back of your laptop with SpongeBob stickers. I guarandamntee it won’t matter worth a damn.

7.  Say something inappropriate to your parents.

This shit should actually be Number One on this list.

At the most elementary level, your parents are unable to see you as an adult until you force them to see you as an adult.

Now, this is largely because the majority of us engage in childish shit.

The fact remains, however, that we are adults.

And I am a firm believer that parents have as much to learn from children as children their parents.

Now, my parents were UNCOMMONLY strict when I was growing up.

And through some very expensive, carefully orchestrated psychotherapy sessions, I am learning to come to terms with some of the perhaps irreparable damage done during the course of my childhood.

All of that aside, when I finally started to show my parents the real adult me (through a series of awkward sexual references and well-placed “Damnits”), they began to see me as the real adult me. Not some well-assembled genetic replica meant to be doted on and showcased. And I actually think they like me more, because I like me more when I’m not playacting for their benefit. They trust my adult judgment, even if they don’t understand it.

And you know what? While plenty of y’all are faking the funk, pretending to lead these virginal lives, and getting drawes and socks for Christmas—

My parents just returned from vacation bearing gifts of shotglasses and booze.

Really.

Who’s winning, here?

8.  Take an afternoon and just dedicate it to pornography.

I’m looking at you, ladies.

For the life of me, I will never understand how we all became so vehemently anti-porn.

I don’t wanna hear shit about porn objectifying women, and the hazards of porn. Don’t say it to me, ladies. I don’t wanna hear it. And let me tell you why.

I know that 89% of y’all making these protestations haven’t seen any porn.

And even if you have seen some, you haven’t seen a broad cross section of it.

I’m not telling you that you have to derive some sexual gratification from it. I’m not saying that you have to like it. I’m not even suggesting that you engage in some anti-Christine O’Donnell to it.

I’m just telling you that you need to see what’s out there.

Odds are, if you haven’t peeped any, you are the absolute worst where it counts. And you might not even know that you’re the worst. But you are.

More to the point, men watch porn.

Some less than others, sure.

But, men watch porn.

Are you telling me  you feel comfortable with a group of people who constitute half of this nation’s demographic watching some shit you’ve never seen before?

It’s like those people who brag, “I’ve never seen one episode of Seinfeld,” or “I’m happy to say I’ve never seen one episode of Friends.”

Well now. You’ve just shut yourself out of a solid 15-20 years of cultural references that everyone else around you can—at the very least—recognize.

You’ve successfully managed to stay in the dark. Congratu-fuckin-lations.

Trust me, ladies.

Take a day.

I personally like to call it, “Self-Abuse Saturday,” but, whatever your pleasure—

Open a bottle of wine.

Draw the blinds.

And watch a few flicks.

You may not know it now, but this is the exact reason you moved out of your parents’ home.

It might not change your life, but, you can probably stand a temporary disruption from our normally scheduled programming.

BTW—

Don’t download that shit.

9.  Stop being a pussy about being alone.

I’m an only child, so perhaps I have the advantage here, but, I can never get my mind behind these need-to-be-all-up-under-you types. You have to be on your phone. You have to be with your friends. You have to be with your girlfriend/boyfriend.

If you can’t stand to be around just you, why in the holy fuck do you think anyone else will want to?

That doesn’t even make sense.

It will not kill you to have a drink by yourself.

It will not kill you to just sit in your home and stare up at the ceiling for a bit.

If we, indeed, grow from our experiences, a great many of us are missing out on vital parts of our personal progression when we shuck aside the value in experiencing ourselves. Like, in our truest form. Stripped of makeup and fancy clothes. Devoid of business cards, and explanations of comings and goings. Completely protected from our friends’ prying eyes or judgment.

You know the number one complaint of my married/parent friends? They don’t have any time to just be by themselves.

And here we all are, imprisoned by this seemingly-flip expression that has been drilled into our heads for the better part of two decades: “single and ready to mingle.”

No, Boo boo.

Try, “single and ready to roll dolo because I ain’t got no muthafuckin kids, what what!!! Hootie hoo, my dude!!”

My periodic absences from civilization are LEGENDARY in my friendship circles.

I’m finding more and more inner peace by the day.

10.  Stop looking to everyone else for the answers to shit.

I know, I know.

Really?

After I’ve just dedicated 2,000 words of “to do?”

Hear me out.

It has been said that only a fool relies on his own counsel.

I totally agree.

As a matter of fact, in my estimation, the only thing better than a sound piece of advice is a sound piece of tail.

And if anyone has any sound advice as to how to effectively pursue a sound piece of tail…whoaaaa buddy.

My apologies.

We’re nearing the end, it’s been a long road, and I’ve digressed into ass-talk. Forgive me. Habit.

The point is, there is no harm in seeking advice. Or giving it when solicited (*cough* I’m pretending y’all solicited this shit *cough*).

We just need to take care about that which we’re seeking—advice. Counsel.

NOT “answers.”

I watched this episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta the other day (Fuck off, tv haters), and saw that countless Black women had piled themselves into a seminar on how to find love taught by some asshole named “Dr.” Tiy-E (see, tv haters—you’d KNOW why I put the “Dr.” in “ “s and called him an asshole if you’d WATCHED. Now you have to google it, while everyone else can just flow, knowingly with the remainder of the entry).

These bitches PAID a SINGLE man to tell them HOW to find love.

Are.you.fucking.serious?

Like, they paid good money, with the understanding that this follicle-ly challenged court jester would give them the answer to why they’re single.

People have been finding love for centuries, FOR FREE AS A MOTHERFUCKER, and they paid this monkey for an *answer.*

Well, merrymakers, here’s some advice for the “bargain price of –on the house—“ :

Stop.looking.for.the.answers.

There aren’t any.

Got it?

The answer is literally, whatever the hell you say it is.

Start making your own answers.

Better yet, find the maverick in you and have the courage to do as Rilke suggested—

“Live the questions now. Perhaps, someday, far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answers.”

(Kudos to my angel, “Michael,” for putting me on to this particular quote.)

This is the only life we’ve got, people.

With odds like that, who the fuck can afford to waste time worrying about 30?

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21 Responses to “My super-duper, unapologetically long manifesto, or, “yes, i’m 30. whooptee fuckin doo.””


  1. 1 Dtothep
    November 11, 2010 at 5:33 pm

    YES!!! This just might be favorite from you of all time, luv. I’ll take Fooler For The Win, please.

  2. 2 TimeSnap
    November 11, 2010 at 5:40 pm

    Age is tied to time, which is just another dimension that we exist in – and is relative, as the passage of time has proven to be different from species to species (a clear example is time from a fly’s perspective compared to time from a human’s). And the number “30” is tied to the Gregorian calendar, which was organized and created by the pope of the same name in the late-1500s.

    My point is that age is just a value that society has assigned and thus shouldn’t have any bearings on what we do with our lives. Live life for life’s sake since, for now, we only have one.

  3. November 11, 2010 at 5:52 pm

    you know what? that was long but i didn’t mind because i enjoyed reading it. you had great points especially number one and the one about just walking away in the midst of an argument. i RT’d the link to this post to so my followers could read. you should write a book or manual or something. i’d buy it.

  4. November 11, 2010 at 6:01 pm

    I LOVED this post. Thank you. This was the perfect morning laugh for me, since I’ve felt this way for a LONG time. Just simply, perfect timing.

    Salut!

  5. November 11, 2010 at 6:38 pm

    Fan-fucking-tastic.

    I’ve had the same basic experience. I’d been doing less and less people-pleasing for years, but it really took off this Jan w/ getting a nose ring at the “aren’t you told old for that?” age of 32, something I’d wanted for 10-15 years but was always too worried about what others (especially colleagues) would think. Finally decided I didn’t give a fuck … and have had a kick-ass year.

  6. November 11, 2010 at 6:53 pm

    One of my favorites!!!!!!!! I recently was just talking about the whole t.v. thing. People trying to make me feel bad about my appreciation for “rachel zoe” and”keeping up with the kardashians” FUCK them! Everyone trying to be sooo smart. Thanks for this! I think I will save these and use them for everyday affirmations! 🙂

  7. 7 Isha
    November 11, 2010 at 8:37 pm

    Love It! Thanks Fooler. It really helps to “read” this, just so it can be retained better. I recently turned 32 and I am starting to realize why older folks don’t give a shit…I’m about to head down that path as well. Fuck it I say! I’m Grown.

  8. 8 shoesandshrimp
    November 11, 2010 at 9:56 pm

    I stumbled upon this blog but I have to say that I loved reading every word of this post. I just wanted to scream out loud “Just Fuck It!!!” then proceed to just go about my day as usual. Love, love, love your perspective. This is great!!!

  9. 9 Donn
    November 11, 2010 at 10:31 pm

    You are right. Straight through start to finish. Right on, sister!

    Although. If I don’t like something I read here, magonna tell you. Because honesty is the best policy. And if your ass is fat, I want some better ass so you gonna hear about that too. I’m OK if it winds up being a different ass from you. No prob. You have your ass, I get mine.

    And if you don’t like that, fuck off.

    Hey! It WORKS! Thank you!

    (And if you don’t like emoticons, fuck off. 😉 )

    • 10 Donn
      December 5, 2010 at 7:47 am

      But I’m adding here (he adds):

      You are right. I mean, I was just illustrating your point and all.

      (And just remembering I’d already answered this one.)

      The problem is, most folk don’t know what happiness means. They think it means getting yours at the expense of. No it doesn’t. Happy people don’t bring those around them down (with stuff like unnecessary honesty). They contribute to the Overall Goodness of Stuff. I tell people it’s like when those oxygen masks drop down from the ceiling of the plane. Try to put your child’s on first, gonna be one unhappy child there when ma’s eyes roll up and she sloonks unconscious into the aisle with the mask pumping air into Junior’s eyes.

      Put your own happiness on first. (Even if it means saying what you think, lying or leaving the room.) THEN you can contribute to everybody else’s. Other’n that, you’re just blowing shit in their eyes. Or, you know, something like that.

  10. 11 CLM
    November 12, 2010 at 12:15 am

    Ok, I feel so silly, because I have said numerous times…that I have never watched Seinfeld, or Friends..I also seem to often advertise that I dont eat pork or beef, or drink alcohol. I am 38, and very excited to be turning 40 for many reasons, but the biggest is I look forward to receving my Doctorate and turning 40 in 2012.
    Reading your blog caused me to reflect on whether or not I was trying to find reasons to engage in dialog with others or reasons not to. Like you, I love RHOA, and a lot of other “trash tv”..and I also watch 20/20 and CNN. I have never really connected with the traditional sitcoms but realize when someone says, remember in that episode of “The Office” or “Friends” when xyz, and I look like “I dont know what you are talking about”.
    My father hated when I watched the Young and the Restless when I was younger, and started watching it because he said he wanted to have something to talk to me about. Twenty years later, he still watches it while I gave it up a long time ago, but to your point, for many years, we bonded around the activities of the characters.
    I thank you for forcing me to reflect on opening up myself to things I assumed I wouldnt enjoy, and encouraged me to be self less, and think about the conversations I may be missing out on, by not watching more mainstream TV.
    Secondly, DANG you have a unique approach to keepin it movin. I want so badly to wak out of meetings at work and say fuck it. But I dont have the courage.
    THANK YOU! for letting me know, when I do muster up the courage, that I will survive. You are funny, and this gave me a much needed laugh!

  11. November 12, 2010 at 5:00 am

    Ok, so I was gonna just reply on twitter, as I’m usually too lazy to leave comments, but for this post, that wouldn’t suffice. See, I just turned 30 — and I don’t give a fuck. Maybe I should give a fuck, since I haven’t attained what could even accidentally be seen as “success,” especially in comparison to my overachieving friends and cousins and such. The thing is, though, I don’t wanna give a fuck and I’m sick and tired of making myself feel like a loser. Look, I won’t get into all that shit, but I just wanted to say thank you.

    Thank you for for being brave enough to open yourself up as much as you do (and trust me, I *know* that I don’t know you personally, so I don’t presume to know anything about your hopes and dreams). That said, I really think that what you choose to share is incredible. Maybe F-bombs and sex talk aren’t some people’s cup of tea, but I’m aaalll about that shit, ok. The internet can be an ugly place, full of misplaced judgement and people with no sense of humor, but you do it anyway.

    I pride myself on being a person who doesn’t project her issues onto others, but I’ve definitely internalized and tortured myself about a lot about what I *don’t* have (model figure and a career that I love, mostly). I’m gonna try to stop doing that. Thanks for writing this and reminding me that this is the only life I have and I need to stop giving a fuck about how successful everyone around me is. I need to do what the fuck I want and leave it at that. It would be one thing if I had wanted to be an attorney or doctor and for some reason had let my dream die, but I don’t. I really, really don’t. I mean, what I want for my life couldn’t be more different. Botton line, I need to realize that I’m grown and stop being a pussy. I’m gonna follow your advice. Because I want to.

    Oh, and Amen to everything you said above (special shout-out to the act of lying), but an extra special A-effing-M-E-N to the TV guilt thing. I don’t know where this revolution came from, but it needs to be destroyed, like, CIA-led-mission-in-the-South-American-jungle style. Fuck them.

  12. 13 Chris
    November 12, 2010 at 6:00 am

    Hey, great read as usual! Plssss write that book!
    I haven’t been giving a shit for a long time! Lol! Friends and family have come to accept me that way or eff off.

    I’m about to get married and I’m wearing jeans at the reception cos I love jeans! My wife is wearing a Sari! Whoever has a prob with that in my hypocritical Nigerian society can kiss my very black hairy ass!

    You rock girl!

  13. November 12, 2010 at 11:26 am

    You are one selfish, self absorbed, repugnant, cynical, asshole. You forgot one thing. In the next ten years or maybe even less, what you think and say now wont mean shit.

  14. November 12, 2010 at 5:49 pm

    We must be kindred spirits. I read this like “did I write this and forget??” LOVE IT!

  15. November 12, 2010 at 8:10 pm

    I absolutely love it. I’m finna put points 1, 3 & 7 in practice pretty damn soon! 😆

  16. 17 Linewalker
    November 13, 2010 at 3:48 am

    I like 1, but I also like 3. Problem is they seem, to me at least, to contradict each other. I mean, do I tell them to fuck off, or just walk out quietly?

    I did make the mistake of trying to mix 1 with 7 once. I was only 6 or 7, maybe all of 8, I’m not exactly sure, and I told my dad to fuck off. So, I gave into my anger, just as you suggested we all should, and said something inappropriate to one of my parents, which you also recommended we all do. And what did I have to show for it? Did I feel better? Do beatings feel good? Did my dad respect me thereafter as the “real adult me” I saw myself as? Ha!

    I think had I done 3, things would have turned out better for me.

    Great post, by the way.

  17. 18 bunny
    November 16, 2010 at 4:53 pm

    WOW this sounds like a page out of my book on the philosophy of life. I juuust turned 23 and I had this revelation in college I believe. My “I don’t give a f” attitude has saved me a lot of grief. I’ve also done just as well, so far, as my associates who give too much of a f. I moved to DC last year and it never ceases to amaze me how self important people feel here because of their jobs. Whatever. I have a Sex in the city 2 poster and a picture of Idris Elba hanging in my cube…Oh and the “follicle-ly challenged” comment had me dying…RHOA is my ish!

  18. 20 CAMILLE BANKS-LEE
    December 3, 2010 at 5:00 am

    Yo, this blog was dumb funny! You made my night after watching some good mindless tv! Thanks Maja for sharing it!

  19. 21 sourpatchkid
    January 11, 2011 at 10:00 pm

    first off, how did no one comment on your #8?! if that wasn’t the most hilarious and on-point piece of advice you’ve ever relayed. “self-abuse saturdays”? ahhaha.

    anywhoo, i’m all about the silent walk-out or phone hang-up. there was a moment in my life when i realized if someone/something is draining my energy or time, i don’t have to make a big fuss–i can just quietly and easily take myself out the situation. it’s pretty awesome.

    this whole post was pretty awesome, actually. i hope your 30th birthday was a great one. and given the fact that you said your bday was within a month of writing this post, i wonder if you’re a sagitarrius (like meeeee)? if so, yay.


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November 2010
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a history of my meanderings….

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