Entry # 72 - Becoming a Model and Slaying a Unicorn

Dear Diary.

August has been a busy month to say the least, including (but not limited to) work, blackmail, threats of legal action, my first gig as a model, and an unfathomably beautiful man. Go ahead, scroll up and double check you are reading the right blog. I'll wait.

Entry # 71-B - Engaged, Enraged, Potato, Potatoe

 

Dear Diary,

I didn't foresee this. My life has been an exercise in juxtaposition.   

Here is an excerpt from my last blog: 

This blog was my way of expressing both acceptance and closure in regard to the men I had loved, to convey my recognition that they had found what was perfect for them (their treasure as it were), and to express hope that though I had been these two men's "trash" that I would one day find someone who considers a sassy, redheaded harpy to be "treasure". What can I say, I was feeling both generous and hopeful that day. I considered the matter of "Men I Loved" laid to rest. They were getting married and riding off into the sunset, case closed. No need to ever speak about them again.

Or at least the case was closed....

Entry #70 - And Then All Your Exes Get Engaged

Dear Diary,

I have been home visiting my family for the last 10 days, a very large percentage of which has been spent partially clothed and somewhat intoxicated on the swing in my parents backyard. It was like the school year ended, accumulated exhaustion set in, and I could not bring myself to do anything. I drank only tea and gin & tonics (sometimes both at the same time), read teen fiction, napped, and moved slowly and in small increments, much like a human sloth. It has been glorious to say the least. 

Proof: Drunk. Also, asleep. My sister Amy Edwards would like to claim photography credit on this masterpiece. 

After my ten days of shameful laziness, I have decided it is time to finally time to belatedly blog about one of life's most blessed and glorious events: the engagements of your exes.Grab yourself a Pimm's Cup and get comfortable, this is a lengthy one.

Entry #69 - In Which, Ironically, Nothing is Sexy

Is that cat wearing a bow tie?..is that cat WINKING at me?!
Yes and YES.
You're welcome. 

Dear Diary,

How does a person really get inspired to write? How does one get spurred into blogging after a months long absence? I will tell you: a singular cat turd. That's right, I said it. ON THE INTERNET. Not five minutes ago my cat jumped up on my desk and walked directly between me and my laptop.
"Oh HEY buddy," I said "that is a highly inconvenient place you have chosen to...why do you smell like that?"
"MEOW" (head butt into my face)
"No seriously," I replied "why do you smell like cat poop?"
At this point, he can sense my panic and makes a break for it; and as he runs (read: prances) across my living room, tail held high, I can see one singular cat turd...stuck to his fluffy pants. For a moment I don't move. I am momentarily paralyzed (except for my jaw, which has slackened considerably).

"So it's come to this..."  I said aloud to no one in particular before accepting my fate and grabbing a kleenex.

So there you have it, things that I am compelled to share on the internet.

Entry #68 - Spincognito: In which I get a real job, turn 30, and eat a lemon meringue pie by myself

While Gus may not be surprised, he is deeply disappointed to belong to a human who is such a piss poor blogger.

Dear Diary,
        I have been far too busy winning the lottery, vacationing, getting in shape, and gallivanting about with my smart, funny, attractive gentleman caller to update this blog. Okay, so none of that was even remotely reminiscent of reality. To be perfectly honest, one could not refer to that as even a vague facsimile of the truth, but I am working on this "positive thinking" bullshit business so you'll just have to bear with me.