Who the hell do I think I am

I mean, a blog? I live in Brooklyn now so I guess I should have seen this coming. I basically signed off on having a blog and wearing overalls when I signed the lease for my Williamsburg apartment. Not that I am complaining though- overalls make it quick and easy to pee after drinking one too many beers in the park.

I am well aware this will be read only by myself and someone who finds this post accidentally while searching DIY brunch recipes, but I look forward to throwing my embarrassing moments and horrific drunk decisions into the void.

If there is someone out there who has accidentally opened this site and made it past the pee comment, hello! Welcome!  I’m sure you’ll come to realize I will be musing about peeing in parks more often, so I apologize in advance. I also apologize to the NYC parks department- but honestly you need more bathrooms in parks, c’mon its 2017 and god dammit if I’m gonna chug 14 beers out of a McDonald’s Sweet tea cup in Central Park that is my right, as an American.

I have one and three fourths dogs. What I mean by that is by one of my little chubby angels is missing a leg, although she is blissfully unaware of this fact and quite often falls on her fat little face. My other dog looks like a cross between a croissant and a wart hog, and I would love to tell you I am being dramatic but MAN is she unfortunate looking. Both of my little misfits were adopted from the ACC in Brooklyn, and make my life 100% more hilarious every day.

How would I describe myself? Well I am one of those people your friend introduces to you at a party, and within 5 minutes I have either spoken to you about a time I threw up on myself, or have touched a part of your body in some way while telling you I’m jealous of your olive skin tone. That being said- not many people are fond of me right off the bat. Someone I just got out of a relationship with described me as, and I quote, “a bit much.” BUT I am also very persistent, and manage to worm my way into quite a few amazing friendships with people who quite often act as my confidant, wingman, or babysitter.

I’ve been told I should write a book, but DAMN who has time for that. Or the attention span. So here we are. You (a confused reader thinking this blog would be about the top 10 funniest brunch fails) and me (a girl sitting in her underwear and a shirt stained with mac and cheese powder trying to keep her dogs from drooling on her freshly laundered pillow cushions).

Well I’ll keep writing into the void, and reminiscing about the times I have ended up lost in the London Subway system or had to explain to my father what a “Queef” was during a game of cards.

 

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