Thursday, September 15, 2016

Because Mom Said I Couldn't

First order of business-- Why

It has come to my uninterested attention that my cynical views of the world and the stories yielded by my daily encounters tend to amuse folks from time to time.  Therefore, as I now will be finished with school (as soon as I write the paper I'm currently procrastinating the fuck out of)... I need a hobby.

Oh yah, I swear a lot.  Hope you didn't have some form of Siri reading this shit aloud during your morning commute which entails dropping little Timmy off at his crunchy preschool that you should really be biking to... but if you had been doing so, oh well.

But I would sincerely like to say, I'm sorry Grandma... I blame my mom for my potty mouth.

Second order of business-- The Name

When I informed my mother that I would finally be doing what she's tried prodding me to do since I vacated the womb with the resting bitch face I still wear-- I told her I would entitle my writings simply, What the Fuck.
Mumsy then informed me that I could not do that because, "They would never sell such a thing." I said, "Who gives a shit, of course they'll fucking sell it... maybe not on a shelf, but that's what the internet is for--duh."  Clearly the mother and I speak so respectfully to one another.  In her supportive manner she suggested that perhaps I add fancy symbols and shit so that it would look "censored".  We went round and round; She more or less convinced me that "WTF" was probably the better option... Jury is still out.

Why What the Fuck in the first place?  I feel the title is necessary because I not only think it, but I mutter or even just openly say this phrase beyond counting each day. I also probably ensure that I will forever be single because Mother also says "no one will want to kiss a mouth like that."  She's also informed me that no convent will take a mouth like this either. Basically, she's informed me that I'm sort of shit out of life options on my current trajectory.

If there's one thing we can say about Laura's family of origin, it's that the genuine non-filter honesty is always with some mild form of back-handed caring intent.  I can't give you any planned purpose to the ramblings that will take place here, but I can absolutely promise that after my stupid amount of schooling and needing to worry about punctuation, citation, yada-yada... you have my guarantee that I no longer give a shit about that either.  That's to say, don't come here looking for your next literary work of wonder.

So without further adieu, the ramblings of life in general shall commence.

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