Where do I start?
Maybe with those derogatory voices in my head. Or with my continual wishing for better
eyelashes and eyebrows. Or perhaps, my self-diagnosed
ADD. Hey did you see that purple
elephant walking down the street?
Needless, I’m just a gal documenting the crazed happenings in my life
every once in a while.
I’m a perpetual singleton trying to earn a buck working hard for the money raising three incredibly gas-infested canines. Two of which are rescue dogs and the third is the sweetest thing since Weight Watchers came out with their new dolce de leche flavor ice cream bars. But is it really ice cream? Who cares, in the words of Dora the Explorer, that shiz is delicioso.
I talk about hot guys on the treadmill next
to me at the gym. I talk about which toilet paper I use and which I
don't. I talk about dingle-berries upon necessity with said toilet paper
brands. If you want to make fun of me, get in line.
P.S.
Once in a blue moon I'll bore you to
death with stories of my childhood which wasn't tragic unless you think
that wearing fake Keds and not having Esprit brand clothes in the 80s is
considered tragic and then, well yeah, perhaps my childhood was
tragic. Oh, and you know what else was tragic? At 16, this is how I
learned to drive.
I’m also on this running mission. Not sure if I am running from the voices in
my head, the fear of extra tubage around my waist as I age closer to 40 or to
simply try and exceed Usain Bolt’s record of being the fastest man on
Earth. Needless, I’ve been an avid
runner since, oh February of this year.
Okay, so I got a late start in life.
But until my knees blow out and my ankles stop being cankles, I’ll
continue to run with the good Lord willing and as long as Gatorade 2 Series is
still in mass production.
I work in advertising as TV commercial producer. You can stop foaming at the mouth right
now. It’s not glamorous, and I haven’t
yet met Don Draper. I don’t take 2-hour
martini lunches and I surely don’t get free tickets to the VMAs or Ellen. But if you’d like to send me to one of those
shows, please feel free to call me immediately.
Do not pass GO. Just stop right
now and give me a shout.
Perhaps my most important defining quality is my litany of horrible dating debacles. I’m not
proud of them, but my friends keep telling me that my short stories could one
day end up on the New York Times Best Sellers List. I’ve kissed my fair share of frogs and thus
far they are deeming to be disgusting amphibians with slime-infested antics. As you can imagine, I’m still waiting on my
Prince Charming. He’s out there. I
just know it. Or so the voices in my
head tell me so.
Welcome in,
- American Bridget
Baller. Holla.
