Blerg

Whelp, hi. How are you? I’ve been <insert words friends and family have called me of recent (i.e. distant, non-communicative, absent, uncaring, etc)>. In all seriousness, here’s the scoop:

I have a job.

And, in all seriousness, I apologize ‘cause I know I’m a better person when I’m not work obsessed. I am a better person because I can treat those around me the way they want to be treated. Basically, it means that I am a better person when I am at others’ beck and call, not some corporation’s beck and call that deems me completely replaceable at the drop of a hat, which I am. We all are. And if you think differently, you’re living in a nice, cushy ignorant life. Everybody is replaceable. My first real boss told me that and I respect that truth.

I, on the other hand, know that there is no other Sara Myers out there like me and that makes me happy. In my own little world, I am not replaceable as I am the only Sara Myers that counts—in my world. <End ego-boost rant>

So, I’m reading that Tucker Max book right now and I won’t say a darn thing negative about it ‘cause that’s what the STD-ridden, little-boy wants. Am I offended by his writings? Not at all. Not by him. Good for him. I am more offended (but, not really)…by the stupid girls who still continue to perpetuate his truth about “skanks” and “hos” and give him the best material to write about. Seriously, he meets the dumbest girls…ever. That is if he’s not James Freyin’ the non-fictionality of his “memoir.”

Ouch.

Happy summer. Be safe.

This is my Butter-Bean nephew, Walker, and has nothing to do with the post, but I figured...he just makes me smile.