Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Verbero*

You may not realize it, but I am a mommy-blogger. Oh, I don't blog about my kids that much, unless they say something pretty hilarious, but underneath all of my perceptions about life and other bloggers, I'm a mom.

And, putting my mommy hat squarely on my head, I will tell you up front: today's blogger needs a spanking.

Fortunately, I'm just the person for the job. And, no snickers from you, Calamity.

NeeNee is a blogger who apparently believes that her fuck ups can be fixed by writing about them. I am a great believer in the therapeutic nature of blogging, and I use my other, private blog for that purpose.

But, I will be the first to tell you: blogging is no replacement for real life. Blogging doesn't change the world, and it won't change you. You can't blog your way out of a broken marriage, or unemployment. And while it is non-fattening, it won't help you lose weight. It's one thing to write about what you would like to accomplish. I'm all for visualization as a strategy for change.

But, at some point, you have to actually lift your ass out from in front of the computer, and change whatever it is that you dislike about your life. If you want to lose weight, you have to get off the couch, stop eating so much, and exercise.

If you want a job, you have to get out there and pound the pavement, and at times, you have to be willing to settle for something that will just pay the bills so you don't dig yourself into a financial hole that you will never escape.

So basically, NeeNee, you are a girl who settles for writing about your problems, and thinking about your problems, but not SOLVING your problems. You live in the past, dwelling on an asshole who did you wrong. (not to mince words here) You're fucking an ex-boyfriend from high school who has no intention of having an actual relationship with you.

At what point do you think your life is going to get better if you don't do something about it besides write?

I have a few tips for you that have nothing at all to do with the layout of your blog (meh) or the style of your writing (also meh).

1. Get rid of EVERYTHING from Music Man. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Every e-mail, every photo, every little residual piece of crap that you are still clinging to that is keeping you from moving forward in your life. It's over. It sucked. The End. I guarantee that he is not wrecking his life, sitting around moaning about you.

I had my own music man, having been around the track more than a few times, and it took me a good year to get over that relationship. I didn't make a lick of progress, though, until I stopped dwelling and mentally let go of the past.

NeeNee...your life is a wreck. You are unemployed, unhappy, overweight, and fucking your ex. You do not have time for this bullshit.

Life is short, and you're missing it.

2. Positive affirmations are great, though I prefer attainable ones.

Let's look at the situation clearly and objectively: you're massively in debt, and every day that you do not work, the hole gets deeper. Just get a damn job. It doesn't have to be THE. PERFECT. JOB. It just has to be a J-O-B that brings in some money so you stop going backwards, financially. Beyond the fact that you need the money, desperately, it is easier to GET a job when you are actually employed. Furthermore, you've already been rejected by one employer for your crappy credit. The only way to fix that shit is to work, earn a paycheck, and start paying down some of your debts. At this point, you are in so deep that I recommend that you work with a credit counseling service to renegotiate what you owe and get you started on a clean sheet. Being unemployed is depressing, and gives you way too much time to think about everything that is wrong. Going to work every day would at least give you something to do with your time, and a reason to get out of bed and get dressed.

3. Start taking care of yourself. You write that your weight is nearing 200 pounds. Wow, yet another thing to feel bad about. Today, not tomorrow or next week, TODAY, take a walk. Walk for at least 15 or 20 minutes. Tomorrow, do the same thing. Work up to 30 minutes a day, then up to an hour a day. Every day, you will feel slightly better. It will cost you nothing, and you will lose weight, guaranteed. I've been there, done that, as well.

You are 20-something years old. Do you think this shit is going to get easier if you wait?

4. Stop fucking your ex-boyfriend. Stop looking to sex with a man who doesn't love you to make you feel better about yourself. It will just leave you feeling worse.

In short, your blog describes your life, and your life looks like Hurricane Ike just swept through it, leaving catastrophe in his wake.

Time to grow up and fix it. You're the only one who can.

How do you fix it? You work on it, a little at a time, until it improves. At this point, you aren't doing that, and blogging about it isn't helping.

I give you

*A latin word, whose meaning you can google, if you're interested

60 comments:

  1. Fuck that, miserable people need to be miserable. How else am I going to know how well I'm doing? Nee Nee, please keep fucking your ex. Fuck it, marry him. Make sure he has a decent job so you don't have to go get one. Weight? That's just more of you to love. Wait, do you have kids? If not, please have a couple. Pronto. Look, I'm all for self improvement, but if the subject is completely unwilling, you have to teach them to accept their lot. Ooooh, it's Tuesday and I'm feeling particularly nasty. Oh, keep blogging about it too.

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  2. I don't think there are words to describe how much I hate blogs like this one.

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  3. I can't feel sorry for someone because of the decisions they make.

    But I can feel sorry for her for having friends who are such fucking pussies that they can't see the hurt inside of her, that they offer encouraging words and no solution, that they don't want her to get on track. NeeNee, you need-need new friends.

    I have a solution: NeeNee, become a waitress. Here is why: There's nothing like getting judged by a bunch of strangers who don't know who the fuck you are and don't give a shit about you. You won't feel good about yourself, but for someone who seems to thrive off of attention (like me) this'll be a good eye-opener, and you can make some money. Oh, and restaurants are full of bullshit and drama that is so much more tragic than anywhere else. It's perfect: a group of twenty-somethings who all believe they're better than what life offered them, they all believe their pasts are troubled and their futures bleak. I know, I was one of them (and I still am, in many ways). All they need is for one person to believe them, to discover them.

    Fucking discover yourself.

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  4. If you really want some pain, I bet Denny's is hiring.

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  5. Yeah, but Cracker Barrel will just put more pounds on this one. Trust me, I worked at one. At least at Denny's, there's no temptation to eat anything.

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  6. I read often, but never comment.

    I completely agree with Rassles comment "I can't feel sorry for someone because of the decisions they make."

    In my case, it's coming from someone who made good decisions, got screwed by fate, and still doesn't wallow in the type of self-pity this blogger does.

    And she does need new friends, ones who will tell her like it is and give her the kick in the ass to do something about her problems rather than wallow in self-pity. You know, the way Love Bites just did.

    Hell, Love Bites, you've been a better friend to her than anyone else.

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  7. Also, the coffee at Denny's is pretty good, and we all know caffeine is a great appetite supressant.

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  8. Man, when I worked at Cracker Barrell I didn't eat shit. I'm pretty sure I lost weight.

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  9. I also quit before I could earn any stars. Walked right out of there during Sunday morning rush, left my tables and told my boss he was a dick. Yep. Ahhhh, Cracker Barrel.

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  10. Nee Nee, I second getting a job at Dennys. Now THAT will give you something to blog about.

    What´s more depressing than earning your living by feeding people gravy covered hash-browns? Oh, I know what´s more depressing. Unemployment.

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  11. I worked at a Cracker Barrel, and I lost weight too. Because of the meth.

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  12. Maybe NeeNee should take up meth.

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  13. Sandi:

    I was thinking exactly of your life, and my life, when I wrote those comments. At our shared age, I look back on my 20s and I think about my mistakes. And I have to be honest---I learned a lot more from my friends who kicked my ass than I ever did from the people who told me I was okay when I wasn't.

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  14. Well, it's either coke or meth, and given her financial status, probably crank. But that's really what we're saying by 'wait tables'. Waitstaff always has the hookup on powders, and they party lots, eat less.

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  15. Waiters are the poor man's rock stars.

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  16. Trust me, I know this from experience--the back of the house is just as bad (or worse), and frequently anti-social and crazy to top it off.

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  17. Yeah I used to buy coke from our head chef at the Olive Garden.

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  18. Yeah, I was the one who would have been all, "What are you doing with your lives? Stop this coke bullshit, you're ruining yourselves. Don't you ever want to leave Gino's?"

    And then I would polish off a bottle of Wild Turkey from behind the bar and you know, drive home. Always thinking, I was.

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  19. Yeah, because I really wanted to leave all the booze and drugs and free soup.

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  20. Can't you just go to the YMCA for that?

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  21. I just realized that that was a boot in the picture and not a dick. Wow.

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  22. ...get confused about where you're at, DPH? This isn't keywork's dumpster.

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  23. Speaking of sitting on the couch and getting fat...am working at home today because I have termite damage ($1100 to take care of it, says the pest control company), and I think I'll eat chocolate cake for lunch.

    Yums.

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  24. Seriously? No one else sees that? Perhaps it's time for a new pair of glasses.

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  25. Jesus Christ, I thought it was a dick until you pointed out it wasn't.

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  26. So I guess I can take these bootlaces off my cock now.

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  27. It's great knowing that not only are you retarded, DPH, you're also blind. I'm going to save so much money on sedatives this year.

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  28. Yes, but what you save in sedatives, you'll be paying back out in antibiotics.

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  29. I thought it was a really big thumb. Weird.

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  30. Remind me never to wear flesh colored boots so people won't think I've a cock or a thumb for a foot.

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  31. So would you rather have someone tell you that you have ugly feet or have people tell you that you may/may not have a cock/thumb attached to your ankle?

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  32. Well I suppose if I really did have a cock/thumb attached to my ankle I really would have ugly feet.

    Is this a trick answer?

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  33. No, but it was a trick question.

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  34. But really? How ugly could a cock thumb foot be?

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  35. That's for you to pomder, Tits.

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  36. holy crap - why the hell would someone write about all that stuff?

    I think you left out that she needs to start by deleting the blog and starting over. I made the mistake of reading (some of) the first post and I want to stab myself in the eye.

    On the day I put the gun to my head and apply pressure I will be reading this blog.

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  37. "On the day I put the gun to my head and apply pressure I will be reading this blog."

    And pray tell, what were you doing at the very moment you thought to write that out? Do tell.

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  38. No way! DPH. I seriously thought that was some guy getting ready to take a giant dick in the ass. You're right. Us whores gotta stick together. OK...at least us blind ones do.
    The review - I agree.
    It's not like Sweet Tap Dancin' Jesus is going to pull your name out of a hat, come down and kick the shit out of you and tell you to get your ass up. And yes, sometimes it stinks. I cannot even begin to express how many lame ass jobs I've had in the past. But...also a place to live and food because of them.

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  39. Thank God I'm not the only one who thought that was a giant dick.

    That blog is depressing.

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  40. It never even occurred to me that that was a boot-- looks like a big dick to me.

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  41. Clearly, I am the least perverted in the entire group. People, do you realize what this says about you all?

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  42. Clearly nothing good, LB, clearly nothing good.

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  43. Yeahhhh...uh. That we're just a bunch of blind whores?

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  44. Well, that, and all y'all need new, larger freak flags.

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  45. You need dicking, or a dick? If you need a dick, can I suggest Dawg? (see comments on review below)

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  46. I'm pretty sure Dawg operates sans dick.

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  47. Is it possible that I could have a larger freak flag AND a larger dick? Yeah, I really do think I would like to have both.

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  48. Rassles: I agree, and I think that fact riles him to no end. Maybe he'll eventually just do the manly thing and buy a hummer to overcompensate.

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  49. Wow, I didn't actually realize it was a boot til I read DPH's comment. I was all, "Doesn't she basically already have a dick up her ass?"

    I loved waiting tables. But I really loved going into the back of the house and screaming at my fellow Applebuddies. Ahh, memories.

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  50. Okay, fine, ya'll...here's the absolute truth about this picture. I drove to Colorado yesterday morning, laced up Key's weenie, and then we drove north to Canuckistan. We positioned Dawg on the side of the mountain, and Key let him have it in the ass with his jackbooted trouser trout.

    Happy???

    Fucking perverts.

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  51. I forgot to mention that Dawg, being a limpwristed commie from our neighbor to the north, loved every minute of it. Key, being a100% heterosayxual red-blooded former Marine from Texas, did not enjoy it, but he did his duty to his friends here at Ask like a real man.

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  52. When I say 'Fuck Canada', well, I'm not afraid to do it. NJ, you're excluded from said action.

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  53. She actually quit her job, at a dating company. She quit her job. In this economy.

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  54. WOW... did you get a very negative view of me. Which I am not surprised about since all my writing HAS BEEN HORRIBLE. I do not disagree with anything you said in the review... at all. I have only been writing about the negative in my life. I write to process my thoughts, the thoughts I do not share with my friends.

    But I must comment on some things...
    1st- I thought it was a dick in the picture too.
    2nd- Although I say I quit my job, the truth is I was replaced, therefore had no position.
    3rd - I have hit the pavement hard and was willing to take any job. In 3 months, I applied to over 305 jobs.
    4th- Haven't slept or seen my ex in over 4 months

    Thank you for the spanking. I enjoyed it.

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  55. Um, I want a spanking too. Please and thank you. But please keep that giant dick out of my ass. Please and thank you.

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Grow a pair.