I Need to Be Famous by Lunch

I am beginning to accept the reality that I am not cut out to be a productive member of society.

Originally, I intended to pay off Wash U a bazillion dollars to make me a lawyer specializing in corporate greed or gay rights or something profitable.  I thought I wanted to help civilians while becoming super successful, graduate law school a smarter lady and make this world a better place.  The more I think about my plan, the more I realize that I just want to sit on my couch in my panties all day.

This is why I need you to make me famous, by next Friday if possible.  Friday is the day I fly south to visit my Grandpa Morris in Boca, and Friday is the day that he will remind me that I quit my job to become a super rich lawyer and then did not.  I quit my job because I am an a-hole.  It's the good ol' recession, I am the only a-hole to quit my job in the year 2010.  My Grandpa pointed that out to me.  My Grandpa thinks I'm an a-hole.  Friday is the day I see him and I am still unemployed, out of school, and I am starting to panic.

I wish I could take it all back but I can't.  You see, the day I quit my job I drank too much whiskey for a creature of my size and told my coworkers how I really felt.  I also told them that I stole a duffle bag full of paper clips and post-its and top secret legal documents.  So you can understand why I can't go back to work.

It doesn't have to be this way.  Instead, I can start a blog and, with your help, become extremely rich and popular.  This way, I can let my Grandpa know that he can tell his friends about his granddaughter, the self-made bazillionare.  First, I will have to buy him a computer and explain the essence of a blog, which will be hard because I'm technologically challenged.  Then I will explain that I started a blog about something, subject unimportant, and that readers of the world joined forces and agreed upon my brilliance.  Long story short Grandpa, I'm a success.

Also, If my blog can become famous and profitable, I might just be saved from the misery of adulthood.   If my blog wins fame and glory, I won't have to shower as often, and I will be able to eat EZ Mac for lunch without those judgmental smirks from coworkers who think I live in a cardboard box, and I could stalk people on Facebook without HR supervision, and, best of all, I could donate my suits to the homeless and lounge around in my panties all day.

I would be awfully grateful if you would follow my blog and create several hundred alter egos on google and have them join my blog.  This would mean a lot to me.  I really hate pants.

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