The is my first search terms post and I’m really excited to exploit my misplaced sense of self-importance. People have stumbled on to my blog from a lot of silly search terms like “girls+poop”, “all men are boob guys” (really?), “how do i reverse seven years of bad luck from breaking a mirror”, “the best women farters”, “how wide are Mindy Kaling’s hips?” (leave her hips alone, a-hole) and let’s say a lot more terms regarding pooping, farting, and women, which is totally kick-ass.
I am especially honored to fit into the category “women farters,” because as we all know, this is an exclusive club for wild, unabashedly raucous women who have no moral values, especially not being lady-like. I mean, the first time I farted I had to look around the room and then at myself in the mirror to make sure my lady bits didn’t fall off from the mere unrefined act of flatulence. Wait, no, that never happened. I’ve been breaking wind since 1989, suckers! But yes, I do consider myself among “the best women farters” — it’s an honor I believe I have rightfully and dignifiedly earned. Just ask my first boyfriend.
To the person who wants to reverse the bad luck they struck after breaking a mirror, I hope you are under the age of thirteen. If not, here’s some advice: sit in your living room staring at the television. Turn on a show like say, Once Upon a Time and imagine everything that happens in this show is real. Now walk over to your television and sit down in front of it — remember, you must believe that the town of Storybrooke and Rumplestiltskin are real (as the show predicates). Try now to reach into your television with your hand. Remember, you must believe. Now try sticking your head up in there. Did that not work? No? Okay. Well then try holding your hand up and turning it around so that your palm is now facing you. Now bring your palm to your forehead. Do it again. One more time. Okay, your luck should now be reversed.
On to you, person who is too concerned with the width of Mindy Kaling’s hips. Do you actually measure your own hips? What is this piece of information worth to you in a dollar amount? And why do you think the internet should have this particular statistic? Please do me a favor and go buy a book and then actually read it instead of wasting all of our time on your celebrity appearance-oriented inquisitions.
But the real reason for this post is this gem: “want a redo on growing up.” Finally, my soul mate finds me. Let’s talk fellow wannabe redo-er, we’re all friends here. What about growing up do you want to do over? All of it? If you’re like me, you would go back in time and not make fun of David O.’s power ranger undies in first grade because you could tell how embarrassed he was after. You also would’ve started reading books before 8th grade. Aw, man, if I could do it over, I’d write more stuff down (says the girl with 30 childhood journals sitting in her closet) that way my dad couldn’t use my lack of childhood memories as a favorite personal anecdote at family get-togethers.
What else? I would’ve rehearsed more for my audition for You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown in 5th grade and maybe not have used “Hit Me Baby One More Time” as my song choice — Britney always let me down. I would’ve been such a good Snoopy.
I would’ve spent more time in bouncy houses because they don’t tell you once you reach a certain age it is no longer appropriate to jump around in bouncy houses. Something about “letting the kids have their turn.”
I definitely would’ve shown Mickey some more respect at Disney World instead of running away, crying. That mouse has been through a lot.
I would’ve embraced the mean-spirited nickname Aly Dicky as a potential anecdote for my future famous self. Actually, let’s just pretend I loved the nickname from now on.
I definitely would’ve worn my retainer more, that way I could smile freely as an adult without worrying about which angle best hides my snaggle tooth.
I would’ve spent more time playing tricks on my parents, like switching the sugar with salt, so I’d have more funny childhood stories to write about.
I would play with legos ALL the time.
I would continue my Harriet the Spy venture for way longer since my invisible decoder pen was everything, but this time I’d disinvite my next door neighbor, Ashley because she thought she was sooo cool because we both had the same bedroom set but she had the matching wallpaper AND the book shelf.
I’d make my family perform the plays I wrote as a child and record them so I can use them later as blackmail.
I would’ve applied for a job at Blockbuster instead of wasting all my time there for free.
I’d definitely go back in time to our family vacation in the Bahamas and tell my 11-year-old self that no, you really don’t need to get your entire head braided because no, you do not look good you little white girl, you look like when Monica from Friends got her head braided except wholly more frightening. But at least now I know how much I could never pull off being bald.
I would’ve never thought this was an acceptable Halloween costume. What the hell are those lips?
Let’s stop there for now before I end up curled into a ball shaking back and forth, regretting all my past decisions as Tengo licks my face in awful doggy delight.
What would you redo about your childhood or about anything? College major maybe? Going out with that guy with the weird mustache? Forgetting to shave your armpits before that time at the beach with all your friends? Spill it, redo-ers.