Do you ever hear observations about how social media is #fake since most people only post their happy memories or fib a bit about their general state of life? When I was considering doing this blog I kept going back to the question, “What all do I write about?” I’m generally an open book but some chapters are boring. Some aren’t fun to recount. Some things I’d rather forget.  I’m scrolling through Instagram and Facebook. And yeah, people  *mostly* post good moments. They twist and turn their lives to fit  140 characters, pick the best photo to post out of 100 all while sharing and liking pins of recipes and DIY that are better in theory than in practice.  Myself included. Everyone has the best kids and the best husbands on the best trips and the best friends. But after a little reflection I’ve locked in my response to that concern. It’s deep. I’m so proud of myself here. Are you ready for it? Hold on to your chonies people!

So what? Who cares? Write whatever.

Ha. Deep as a creek I am I am. But really –

We get one life and we get to see it however the hell we want. We can see our life as a blessing. We can see it as a curse. We can see it as a chore. We can see it as a gift.  And me?  Well, I am choosing to see it as a comedy.  What I post on social media is as much for me as anyone else. It’s a semi-accurate record of my life to look back on and I am perfectly okay omitting the parts that I don’t want to dwell on and/or adding a punchline. I’m no Roseanne or Lorelei or Carol Brady but I’m going to try to keep it light around here. So my blog might not end up being a tell all but it will be authentic to how I live my life – and that means lots of self deprecating humor and quips to cover up the imperfections in my day.

Capisce?

And with that out of the way, I want to test my self deprecating humor out real quick with a series of confessions (like any skill, the key is practice practice practice).  These are things that you may or may not see from the pictures I post or the memories I recant but which are very much truths in my life and deserve to be acknowledged before I go about making my life look good and all that nonsense.

10 Truths

  1. My floors are always dirty. Always. Always Always. I mop them and within 24 hours the filth is back. Which leads to me thinking, “eh – what’s the point.” Which in turn leads to longer and longer periods between mopping.
  2. I am a procrastinator.  Ask me again about if I’ve called the plumber yet.
  3. I have a short fuse.  I’m not at “Mommy Dearest” level but it’s been known to get yelly around these parts (I know, I know – stop trying to make “yelly” happen.)
  4. I miss work.  I am glad I am able to stay at home but I’d be a liar liar yoga pants on fire if I didn’t own up to missing adult interaction and a pay check. And uninterrupted coffee breaks. And people who don’t poop their pants.
  5. I curse like a sailor. Or a car man. Or a catholic school girl.  Pick your idiom.
  6. I only take selfies on days my hair and makeup look good. There. I said it.
  7. I stay up late every night watching horrible reality tv. If there were a channel that only showed pregnant polygamous teens in jail I would be all in.
  8. I am that asshole who sees your text – puts my phone down with the intention of reply (seeing #2 above) and then suddenly remembers about 22 hours later that I still owe you a response.
  9.  I have a knack for remembering the most random of details (remember that time in 5th grade when….) but can’t remember a phone number or why I walked into a room or what that store with all the food is called…you know the one. You get all your ingredients and beer there – (oh right, the grocery store!) to save my life.  Hence my desire to start writing things down.
  10.  And lastly, I’m one of “those” people – you know, the deplorables, the scum of the earth. The people that dress their dogs in clothes.
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My View as I type. He really likes his bright orange Halloween shirt. I swear.

tl;dr  I am going to write whatever I want and I’m an unforgivable who dresses their dog up.  xoxoxo