Halfway.

by I

It’s friggin freezing. Err...correction: it’s below freezing.

Lucky bastards in Los Angeles are groovin' in the high 70’s. Surely they are gloating in their warm glory while my mushy tooshy freezes into a solid mass. However if we were to end up stranded on the North Pole, guess who‘d eat who first? That’s right kiddies, I'd have you for dinner.

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I was going to start this blog off with serious matters, such as global warming, exponentially growing national debt, inadequate penis size, etc. But instead I caved in into my normal blogging mode; I resorted to bitching, whining, and complaining.

So yes, where shall I begin? Well, folks, I’m half way there.

“Half way where?” you inquire with the utmost intrigue.
I’m half way to forty.
“Ughh, so what?”.
Well, I’m also halfway to being a multi-billionaire.
“Oh, you silly girl! Big dreams for a little lady.”
Well, given that I’m halfway to forty, I’m also halfway to being a 40 year old virgin.
“That’s good and well, but how will you go about becoming a multi-billionaire 40 year old virgin?”
Oi vay. You aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, eh?
“Oh! I got it, you want to sell ‘it’ on Ebay?”
My gosh, how dare you insult my sex appeal! My grandiose plan is magnitudes better. It’s magnificent! Brilliant! Ingenious!
“My god woman! Tell me already!”
Okay, okay. Ready?
“Absooofuckinglutely!”
I’ll be the American Psycho in the documentary remake of The 40 Year Old Virgin.

Worth the wait?