Don't Hate Me Because I'm Delusional Beautiful

But you should definitely hate me. And in case you're having trouble thinking of reasons, let me make it easy for you.


5 Reasons To Hate Me
From The Depths Of Your Soul To The Hairs In Your Nose

1. I sorta, kinda like the new Janet Jackson song. I know, I know, it's sick and you should lock me up and throw away the key. I talked it over with my lawyer though and we're going to go with the whole "Brainwashing Via Boob At The Superbowl" defense. So I'm confident I can be out in say, 50-60 years with early release for good behavior, as long as I can manage to avoid getting into any brawls or knife fights over whose turn it is to do "special favors" for Bertha the prison guard and/or who peed in whose pee hole (which really isn't how it sounds. At all).


2. I watched The New Kids On The Block E! True Hollywood Story tonight. All of it. I can't explain it with out further incriminating myself, so that's all I'm going to say. Except seriously, was that really 13+ years ago? And wasn't that Jordan Knight dreamy? For a robot with a rat-tail, I mean.


3. In a "What the hell am I doing, Everyone hates me, I suck worse than this Janet Jackson song" panic attack I ate half a bag of strawberry Twizzlers and even then only stopped because I felt like a.)It might not be a good idea to be vomiting red licorice all over my new carpet, and b.)This could be another brainwashing tactic and what if tomorrow I wake up liking Justin F#cking Timberlake who for all I know has a song titled "Gonna Have You Naked By The End Of This Package Of Twizzlers"?!


4. I put the ice cube trays back in the freezer empty. I'm still hoping that there is an Ice Cube Fairy that will flutter in and fill them for me, probably with special Fairy Water out of some remote Fairy Spring like something you might see in Rainbow Land (home of your heroine and mine, Rainbow Brite), and then leave a trail of sparkle Fairy Dust and maybe an Eddie Cahill clone on her way out. Am I expecting too much again?


5. I have been dodging your calls. By "your" I mean yours, and yours, and well, everyone else's. I know I no longer have the locked cell phone excuse, but unless you are calling to tell me that I won the lottery OR I am your baby's mommy OR I am your long lost twin sister (unless your name is Hayley Mills, and especially if you are Hayley Mills and you are dead, because if so all I have to say is sorry you're dead, hope it wasn't too tragic, but Get Over It, you have no twin, it was just a movie) OR your name is Martin Sheen and you're calling to ask if I will become your First Lady OR you know why Dale Earnhardt appears to have joined forces with Dim Sum The Thoughtful Upstairs Neighbor Who Is Also Coincidentally A Panda and together they are racing over my head even at this very moment, well then I don't really see what you could have to say to me that I would want to hear. No offense (again, unless you're Hayley Mills, in which case, Yes, Offense! Offense!).


It's ok, don't fight it. I hate me, too.