I love talking shit. And by talking shit, I mean the Urban Dictionary definition #1.
Just bullshitting around with words and saying crap that you don’t really mean.
OMG I love it. I love talking shit that makes no sense. However, definition #2, I don’t like as much.
Like last night, I was thinking shit. Shitty thinking. Insulting people. Lots of people. In my mind. For me, thinking shit is actually worse than talking shit because it means something is wrong with me.
I had a headache and couldn’t sleep. Not typical. Pain reliever wise, nothing touched the headache. I think this is why I had negative zero times 56 point zero insight as to why I was shit thinking. When I’m thinking shit in my head about another person, it’s a RED FLAG that I have a problem with me.
WHAT THE SHIT WAS MY PROBLEM?
This is another thing that isn’t typical for me, you know? The insight-less internal talking of shit. I figured it must be the headache, so I quit trying to figure it out and just ran with it. Metaphorically speaking, you know, because I stayed in bed and shit thought my brains out.
It was so much fun. I’m going to do it more often. It felt like I was having candy coated multiple orgasms. So, since Monday is a fucker, I decided to share, because you know, maybe you are thinking shit or talking shit and feeling like shit about it, wondering if you are evil or insecure or what? Probably both. I get you.
Please enjoy some of my shitty thoughts:
FUCK WHOEVER MADE THE ELF ON THE SHELF.
If any kid tells my kid that there is no Santa, I will end them.
I won’t end them, but I’ll think about it and enjoy thinking about ways to end them. Ending them like Michonne ends zombies would be awesome. Grade school heads a rollin’!
I’m the worst. Nobody is worse than me. Well, that’s not true. X is. X is THE WORST.
X IS A TOTAL BITCH!
X is insane. INSANE. And of course this is not my problem, but it still annoys me, because why the fuck can’t she understand how her abuse of the hashtag is a cry for help?
George Clooney doesn’t appeal to me.
Stephen Colbert appeals so very much to me.
But does he appeal to me sexually? I wonder? Is it just his brain? I mean, like I appeal to him? NO. Who do I think I am? Being all, “OMG I just don’t want him to bone me,” because seriously, like I’m too good for a Colbert thrown bone? I might be though, because I am special. The specialist.
I am committing adultery in my shit thinking skull.
I am going to see what his wife looks like.
OMG I hate myself right now. She’s a sister wife mom woman of the universe and I’m having mind sex with her husband.
Or am I?
I am the worst.
No, X is the worst.
And I am NOT having mind sex with him. I just want to mind fuck him, and by mind fuck, I mean talk shit. And by talk shit, I mean definition #1. Like we could just hang out and sing songs and eat pistachios and talk shit about all the U.S. Presidents and make up songs about them.
But I don’t want HER there.
I am the worst.
No. I am not. X is. And George Clooney is suspect.
I wonder if George Clooney appeals to Stephen Colbert?
Why don’t I like George?
Maybe I do like him, but he just doesn’t appeal to me.
No. He’s suspect.
NOW THAT’S A HASHTAG! X is ruining the hashtag for everyone. I hate her for it. HATE HER.
I’m hilarious. And I know how to use a fucking hashtag.
* Approximately 44 shit thoughts about X and 44 other people *
OMG I forgot to eat dinner and that’s why I have a headache!
Maybe X is not the worst?
Yes she is.
But I’m keeping my eye on George.
I hope we have pistachios.