I’d like to apologize for encouraging you to waste the limited lifespan of your healthy retinas by linking you to my blog. My worthless, fashion-less blog.
Once upon a time, when funny people still weren’t using the internet, I thought I had something to offer the world of blogging. I didn’t know about Clickhole, and I only ever visited The Onion to find the ad for my psychic because I never saved the link. Today, I mourn my former naiveté in thinking I was anything more than a worthless user of words just like everybody else who isn’t Eli McCann.
I didn’t write How My Fitbit Made Me Lose My Mind. I lived it, though. I paced around my living room during every commercial break for the episode of The Bachelorette when they were in Ireland. Sometimes I let my madness spill over into the actual show, resulting in less awareness of times when I needed to yell at Kaitlyn for being such a thigh gap skank.
I didn’t write Clickhole’s Clean Eating Challenge. I spent the week before they posted it watching an hour-long YouTube self-worth ruiner, “101 Reasons to be Vegan”. This made me hate myself enough, so to discover that I also didn’t write the funniest article I’ve read this month was a stone cold bummer on par with the life of a factory chicken with no beak or ability to unionize.
I have now written a list of three, which is the mark of a writer ok-enough to be able to pass as one, but I didn’t write My 14-Hour Search for the End of TGI Friday’s Endless Appetizers. Instead, I laugh-cried my way through it, resenting the fact that I don’t have a boss willing to sponsor me doing eating challenges, and wondering how much Adderall I would have taken to balance boredom with appetite had I participated in the Mozzarella challenge that my boss would never ask me to do.
This week I watched an old video of a 13-year-old do not-funny stand-up comedy. She is now 17 and has millions of subscribers on YouTube. She also “forgets to eat”, which was the cherry she wouldn’t care about on top of me giving up.
In short, I have nothing to offer you that can’t be found in greater, better measures elsewhere. They say that we’re all doing the best with what we’ve been given. This is not true. I am doing the minimum amount with what I have been given, and I’m taking the maximum amount of Adderall to do it.
Here’s the only pep talk that speaks to me right now: