One of my BFFs is working on a remote farm for 2 months. I promised him I'd visit. The promised visit was supposed to be today. Instead, when I woke up this morning, I thought about how I didn't feel like driving for 5 hours. And then I didn’t do it.

I have been known to say things like, "I'm a good friend," "She's a bad friend," and "Of course I'm going to visit you! Why would you think otherwise?” Which makes me a bad friend and a hypocrite because I broke my promise.

But, in lieu of feeling bad about this, I’m going to celebrate hypocrisy!

6 year-old cousin: Winny, do you know what happens to poor people?
Me: No…
6 year-old cousin: They lose an arm.

She really said that. 

But I’m not her mother. So I changed the subject to pizza.

 * * *

Seeing that we’re on the subject of poor people, I’d like to further address this topic. Do people with money problems really exist? I’m asking because I’ve recently come across several blogs with a post asking the readers for monetary donations. And I’m not referring to blogs that have a PayPal donation button with a caption that reads, ‘Donate if you want to.’ I’m referring to actual posts where the blogger explains why the readers should donate money. In these posts, the bloggers reveal that they have a family to financially support and, that, since their readers are all rich because they can afford to use the internet, the bloggers are entitled to money from the readers. 

Everyone I know can afford to use the internet which, we just learned, means that they're all rich. So tell me, do people with money problems really exist? Because, apparently, I don't know anyone who isn't rich. I also don't happen to know anyone who's missing an arm...

I'd provide you, my readers, with a link to the blog comment I left, but then you'd be unfairly reading my comment for free. 

After I turned in my employment resignation letter, my final 2 weeks at the office were horrible. I felt frustrated, excited, regretful, anxious, and relieved during my remaining time there. Other emotions displayed not-by-me in the office as a result of my 2 weeks notice were jealousy, bitterness, and sadness. That’s EIGHT emotions flying around in a fairly small communal space for ten 8-hour days. Like I said, my last weeks were horrible.

One of my unexcellent girlfriends handed in her letter of resignation this past Friday. Considering how ill-natured some office coworkers can be when someone decides to quit his/her job (most likely because of the shitty coworkers in the first place), I sent her a card expressing my sympathy and support. I didn’t want her to feel how I felt during those 2 weeks. Her response:

“Thanks! But I am having so much fun!”

She explained to me that she’s in the process of disposing all of her work, as she deems her work to be intellectual property.

“They’re going to suffer so badly without me!”  

Now I feel like a loser. I was so busy feeling bad about leaving my office that I worked even harder during the 2 weeks. How my unexcellent girlfriend is handling this is exceptionally cooler. 

I am a fool.

Since I last posted about how I'm a bad person, I have spent a considerable amount of time self-reflecting. What I discovered through my self-reflection is that the space between my top lip and my nose is too much. There could be less of that space. But while I was looking in the mirror, I also came to the realization that I'm actually a deeply caring person. It looks like I'm just your typical goody two-shoes living an ordinary life.

I leave myself reminder notes on my nightstand so I'm reminded both 
when I retire to bed for the night and when I rise in the morning.

I keep framed photographs of my loved ones in my bedroom so I never forget 
that they are what's most important to me and that I'm doing this for them.

I don't have a baby per se, but I do have a baby bank. It's filled with pennies (approximately 700 of them, which is approximately 7 dollars! and a heavy baby!). 
And, if I don't say so myself, in addition to being a dutiful money saver, I take 
excellent care of my baby bank. 

Spending time with old people is, generally speaking, uneventful and unfun. You may get a word of wisdom or two out of it, but that doesn’t usually happen during most interactions with them. My grandfather asked me to drive him to the public transportation office to renew his expired senior ID. When we got there, the office was packed – with smelly old people. 

While I was waiting in line with my grandfather, my face alternating between wincing and pouting, an old man that was waiting behind me tapped me on my arm with his cane to get my attention.

“Too bad I don’t have a seat. Otherwise, I’d offer it to you. You’re nice to look at.”

We parked in an unfree parking garage. When I pulled up to the booth to pay, the booth personnel (not old) released the bar gate and told me how much my fare was.

“Because you’re beautiful, it’s free.”

I shouldn’t be so repulsed by these men who hit on me. After all, one's running out of time; the other works alone in a 3’ x 6’ booth all day. I must keep in mind that desperate times call for desperate measures.

Two years ago, I was in a similar position of desperation. For the first time in my life, I was without a female BFF. Accordingly, I sought out to fix that. On the market for a new BFF, I hit the bars. I met a girl who had cute shoes on. We got to talking and, I complimented her on her shoes, among the other things I said to her…

She and I did not become best frosting friends.