Oh Christ, it’s November again, and I need to leave the house in an hour to dress in an increasingly-fragrant canvas smock with a mini-lightboard strapped to my stomach and gauze over my eyes for an audience for whom the most generous descriptor would probably be “bemused.” And then I’ll do it all over again this evening! Oh, my life. Oh, my choices.
You know the drill: National Blog Posting Month, one post per day for the entirety of November, I will do my level best not to crap out before it’s over, but I make no promises because I am BOUND BY NO LAWS BUT MY OWN. If you want to witness my slow decline over the past nine years firsthand, feel free to click any of the following links, where you can find some choice vintage specimens of Heather, aged 22 to 29:
Does anybody even blog anymore? Is blogging exclusively an old lady thing now? Are all the hip kids just reposting GIF-sets on Tumblr and sending emoji-laden SnapChats to their millions of followers? Has the world, at long last, passed me by? IT HAS?
I woke up with the very slightest of bumps on my chin this morning. Though currently imperceptible to all but me, it hurts like a motherfucker when touched, and I can tell that before the day is ended it will have blossomed into a monster of a zit. I assume this is a harsh metaphor for how this entire endeavor will play out.
ONWARD TO GLORY I NABLOPOGOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!