SELFABSORBED.ME

Anorexia: because you're only attractive when you're close to death

‘What is it about those women that makes men like them so much?” I asked, sitting outside with a friend, staring at the amazing beauties before me.

”Because Kim." My friend said, "…they are MODELS.”

Hmmm , now that was an idea. So men actually like…models?…and if I was a 'model', I would attract more men?

Now this was certainly an interesting thought. But what would it take for me to become a model? And how long before I could actually start telling people I was a 'model'? Do I have to sleep with Johnny Depp and have an acid trip with Janice Dickenson before I get my modeling card? As I sat thinking over my friend’s comment that evening, watching Bring It on:In It To Win It…I thought...maybe I could do this. Think of all the things I have accomplished in my life, maybe modeling could be one of them.

So I wrote out a list of everything it would take for me to become a ‘model’.

After many hours and the demolition of two lead pencils, I finally had my list.

Step1- lose 20 pounds

Step 2- become tall

Step 1 is easy, losing weight is a simple game that everyone knows how to play and knows exactly what it takes to accomplish…become a coke feign. Problem solved. Coke is clearly the answer and I will be running my fingers along the outlines of my kidney and intestines in no time.

Now on to step 2. Become tall. This was seemingly easy at first…break kneecaps, trick blind doctor into inserting longer metal rod into my ACL... Bada bing bada boom, I am a few inches taller.

Finding a blind doctor however, seemed to be the hardest part, mostly because, assuming the doctor used a seeing eye dog and being that dogs are not allowed in hospitals, how would I know which doctors were blind? Then, in my quest for blind doctor, I came to find out that APPARENTLY you are not allowed to do coke before you go in for surgery. Which totally destroyed my 'being a coke feign' plan. What kind of tomfoolery is that?!

Regardles, now I am onto a new plan.

Plan B- Fuck modeling, write children’s books.

So I have been pondering recently ("pondering"...get it?! ... yeah, neither do I) what I am going to title my first non-fiction book...besides titling it the obvious 'No One Loves Me So I Blog', I thought maybe I needed something more.

I need something serious, yet thoughtful... exciting, yet provoking, challenging, yet...not challenging? I don't know, but I figure that is why I have you...my readers...to tell me how to live my life and what to title a bestseller...so please review the titles below and let me know what works for you, or if you have any ideas of your own...because sometimes, I think people who read my columns have actual thoughts in their brains...not always...but definitely sometimes.

Dear Single Grocery Girl,

I can see your items. Laid out flat like a dope carrying American at the Mexican border. Why I ask, single grocery girl, do you stand in front of me with oh so many yogurts? So many nonfat yogurts I think you could drown in a dairy filled scuba tank. And why so many Smart Ones? Not that I don’t enjoy a Smart One every now and then when I am craving preservatives in a frozen form, but could you try and appear less single perhaps? Maybe buy a pack of beer and some condoms just for my sake? Because as I stand behind you in line, waiting to buy my Vodka and Star Magazine, I know you see me. And I am doing exactly what you think I am doing my Dear.
Yes.
Judging you.

Of course I am judging you! Good God and sweet Jesus Eleanor what else would I be doing?! Thinking nice thoughts? Oh no no no. Of course I am thinking bad things about you sister Mary Kary let’s not live in lollypop and cotton candy world!

Single Grocery Girl, I wonder, how many rice cakes and single serving cracker packets can fit in that pantry of yours? How many ‘Lonely Girl’ frozen dinners can possible fit in that freezer? And most importantly, how many tissues can fit in your wallowing hole of despair? Ah but alas as single girl approaches to pay with her Ocean pictured MasterCard, I think, I hope actually, that she has important things in her life to keep her going…things like a loving family… good friends…. the new season of The Hills on DVD...

So until we meet again, I raise a Lean Cuisine to you Single Grocery Girl, in hopes that one day your cart is filled with chips and other shit food and beer… as I will know then, you will have finally found love!

Because he cooks good macaroni motherfucker!

If God was to be aged in years…that would make him what?... 102? 103? And if God were to know all the humans on earth and want to communicate with them, via Verizon (it DOES have the largest network)….would he have to use an old-man cell phone like the Jitterbug?…with large scale numbers and display? Would Jitterbug give God a cell phone plan for free? Does God get a mail-in rebate? Where would the rebate be mailed back to?... And more importantly…does Verizon sell Jitterbugs?

For those of you who have not read Chuck Klosterman, there is a theory he has that transcends most theories I have on life…and no I am not talking about my ‘men in Birkenstocks’ theories, although that comes close. The theory suggesting that women function better in society because they recognize they have a nemesis and an archnemesis. The nemesis most likely being their best friend (clearly) or someone who has been their best friend (pillow-fight mishap perhaps); and their archnemesis being the girl they have hated for many years (essentially someone better looking). As women we like to think, “Oh no Sally will be a nice girl and get along with everyone…” But the truth is, no matter how lady-like Sally is, deep down she is willing to kill one woman and have the other woman mangled by wolves… the one mangled and still surviving of course, being her nemesis.

My Nemesis is as predicted, one of my good friends. Or more so one of my ‘seemingly’ good friends. If you knew us closely you would know my deep seething hatred for her. Or possibly jealously. Let’s call my Nemeisis “Hessica”… or as I like to call her “The Bitch that ruined my 22nd Birthday” . Now “Hessica” is one of those girls who gets away with anything. She can be a full out prick everyday of her life, because she is one of 'those girls'. And by ‘those girls” I mean- she is “hot and selfish”…two traits I have long desired to attain through many years of hard work.

She does all the normal best friend things…tell me how to style my hair…questions my job changes…tells me my uterus will never support babies…the usual. And as much as I hate her , I secretly long to be Hessica, long to be carefree enough to say what’s on my mind, wear what I want, think what I want….And some nights I sit awake wondering what might happen if a taxi cab ran her over. But truth be told, I don’t want that cab to kill her…just to mangle her up a bit, maybe give her a funny wink or smile or something. Maybe just hit the side of her leg just hard enough for her face to plunge into the cement street and break that perfect tip of her nose. Without her though, I wouldn’t spend so much thought into the clothes I wear going out at night, or the way I style my hair, or my overall attitude. And when all is said and done, she makes me strive to be a better (looking) person.

My Archnemesis is quite the same, except when I sit in bed awake at night dreaming of the cab hitting her I dream of it actually running her over and over again. I then imagine standing at her funeral while people talk about now they never much liked her to begin with. My Archnemeis of course being the first girl to ever take a boyfriend from me. I actually watched her walking out of his apartment building at 4am ...and no, I was not camped out in a bush carrying an extra large purple flashlight bought from the LLBean camping section (pg 24)…JEEZ! Not only did the cunt take my boyfriend, but she got some great job and some amazing house and even bought a car. I haven’t thought about buying a car since the subway system was invented in the 1600’s. I haven’t driven one in the same amount of time either. And the most expensive investment I have made this yet was in a bottle of percoet.

However my archnemis makes me want a get better job…rent out a bigger apartment…learn how to punch a nice uppercut to her face.... Either way, I actually work harder to become a better person by outdoing her. And stay motivated. And when all is said and done; having her around makes me a better person.

And one day when I am married and carrying babies, I may not care about either of these women. I may not care about any woman at all. But most likely I will just have new women to loathe in my life. Evil women such as, “PTA Members” or “Choir Singers"...regardless they all will make me a better person, forcing me to wake up every morning stating, “Kim, you woke up today to outdo that bitch.” Which, as I believe, is also a quote said by someone named “Jesus”.
Just sayin.