Yes, Jennifer, you've mentioned it.
Right. So, I decided this was the perfect
Who do I love to read every single time they post? Who has been open and fun to tweet with? Who puts a smile on my face?
The Sarcasm Goddess.
I'm not saying she's the ONLY blogger who fits the bill, but, well, you'll see.....
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I cannot think of a greater honor than being asked to guest post on a fellow blogger’s blog. Imagine!Someone gives up control of their blog for one whole day to let you write whatever you want. WHATEVER YOU WANT. And if they don’t like it, tough! There’s nothing they can do about it. They have to display your content no matter how stupid, boring or vulgar it is lest they break the legally binding conditions of Guest Posting.
That’s not true?! There are no legally binding conditions? They don’t absolutely have to post what I write for fear Very Bad Things Involving Lizards and Rabies and Robots and A WORLD WITHOUT BACON!
Shenanigans! Someone call my attorney.
For serious though, when Just Jennifer, or as I like to call her: Just Plain Awesome, asked me if I wanted to guest post I was all, “sure thing!” And then I went and sat in the corner and started eating my hair cuz OMG is there any greater pressure than writing for someone else’s blog?
No. No there is not.
Just Jennifer was very supportive and encouraging. “You’re a great writer,” she said. “Just be yourself. Pretend you’re writing for your own blog. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting a Pulitzer.”
Well, Just Jennifer, you may not be expecting a Pulitzer, but I am. In fact, I’m getting kinda pissed. I’ve been blogging for over a year and I still don’t have a Pulitzer.
Who’s in charge of giving these things out anyway? Because honestly, I am long overdue for one. I mean hello, are you people reading this stuff? Pretty freaking awesome, yes?
I don’t even know what the requirements for receiving a Pulitzer are, but clearly, I am worthy.
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, PULITZER PEOPLE!
Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get to the point of today’s blog.
There’s a point?
Well of course there is.
I am a pretty intelligent person, as evidenced by the 300+ words of mindless drivel above. I graduated with honors; I (usually) refrain from sticking metal objects in light sockets; I take the cap off sharpies before using them; and I only use calculators for the really hard math like adding single digit numbers
You’d think a person with such a high level of smarts would be all, “Fashion? Psht. Easy piece of does this cheesecake make my thighs look fat?”
But nothing makes me scratch my head and say, “Huh? I don’t get it,” more than getting dressed every day.
My fashion vocabulary consists of pants, shirts, shorts, dresses and skirts.
Camisole? Cami what?
Cardigan. Come again?
Capris? The city in Italy?
When I was in high school, mom-jeans weren’t just were for moms. They were also for teens with no fashion sense. And by teens with no fashion sense, I mean me.
To my sixth grade graduation, I wore a Pepto Bismol pink junior bridesmaid dress with a giant-ass bow. And by giant-ass bow, I mean there was a giant bow right above my ass. I might as well have worn a sign that said, “please point and laugh and shove me in a locker.”
You only have to learn me once, though. To my high school awards ceremony I wore a tight black I-can-only-shuffle-my-feet-or-I’ll-bust-a-seam skirt with an electric blue my-boobs-might-just-explode-outta-this shirt. Because when in fashion-doubt, dress like a whore.
The older I get, the more confused I become. A typical shopping trip goes like this:
Look at item of clothing on hanger.
Is it a shirt?
Decide to take it to the fitting room. I’m sure I’ll figure it out once I put it on.
Yeah, no. But I do manage to pull seven different muscles in my back as I try to wrangle the not-shirt over my head.
My befuddlement isn’t entirely my fault, though. Have you seen the clothes they make these days? A few weeks ago I was shopping and grabbed the most adorable shirt off of the hanger. And then I looked at the back.
Is that ruching? As in, a place for your boobs to go? But, but, this is the back. Look, there’s the tag. Maybe this one’s defective. I’ll try another one.
They’re all like that!
Am I supposed to have boobs on my back now? Is this the new style? WHY DON’T I EVER GET THESE MEMOS?! WHHYYYYYY!!!!!
I put it back on the hanger, grabbed a pair of pants and headed to the dressing room. It took me fifteen minutes to realize the pants were a scarf. Or maybe a blazer. Or some other article of clothing I don’t even know the name of.
Who knows? And honestly, who cares?
I may never win a fashion contest, but as I mentioned before, I am smart. And being smart trumps being fashionable any day. Which do you think is more impressive to your employer: dressing for success or naming all 57 states in under a minute?
But there are only 50 states.
Well, there you have it. My guest post about, um, clothes and smartness and stuff. I’d like to take a moment and speak for Just Jennifer and say, “Wow. Incredible post. Truly it was. And your writing? Superb. Beyond compare. Life, nay, world changing. I expect your Pulitzer to arrive any day now.” Aww, thanks Just Jennifer. That is so sweet. It’s no wonder I call you Just Plain Awesome.
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See what I mean? You totally LOL'd, right? Because I did - a lot! And I can relate to the Goddess' fashion woes. How 'bout you?
I love this girl. If you do too (and you really should), leave her some comment love below and then go check her out at her place, For the Love of Writing. Follow her there, and/or hook up with her on Twitter at @SarcasmGoddess.
This was SO FUN! Thanks, Lady!