I long for the day when someone feels the need to kill me because my existence is a constant reminder of the change this world deserves, the change that is at the root of their every fear. At the moment however, people just want to kill me because I’m an asshole. And perhaps I’m not an asshole in the sense that I’m reeking havoc on the world for no apparent reason. I am merely the victim of the Jayden Tucker. The problem is that everybody at Fairfield High is practically in love with him. Scratch that, obsessed with him. I remember writing in his yearbook junior year and I noticed a whole essay written in there by some random ass guy who wrote, “I want to be the godfather of your children.” I’m not even sure if he went to Fairfield. The point is, it’s difficult to play victim to someone who is beloved by so many for being, “sweet, funny and intelligent,” when I am beloved for being “blunt, sarcastically funny, and crazy.” It’s …
Hey boo hey! Today we are taking a look at the past, a time when being a bold bitch was not only difficult, but unpopular. It still isn’t that popular but this story comes from a very bold place. Let it be known that boldness doesn’t always lead to GOODness. And sometimes, letting go is the boldest thing you can do. Without further ado, let’s go back to the 2000s…
The following is an excerpt from a book I’m writing called, “Skittles for Breakfast”. Chapter Four: Hot Pursuit “You have really pretty eyes. I like the way they look when the sun shines on your face,” he said with that cheesy Disney Channel movie smile. I swallowed my first bite of cafeteria chicken wrap as he waited for my response from across the lunch table. “Shut up, don’t talk to me.” I told him sassily. (Sassily. A word I didn’t think existed until my word processor granted me the right to use it by sparing the red squiggly line of failure).
The following is an excerpt from my book, “Skittles for Breakfast”… Preface Dear Jayden, Forgive me for the content of this memoir, for I am not one to misplace honesty in the dark. Yours Truly, Robert Losing friends and making enemies has turned out easier than I thought. I much prefer hating everyone while they continue to like and admire me, however, my acts of emotional destruction have brought me to where I am now… happy.
Flaunting a green sash around campus proved to be quite attention getting, something I endorsed to climb the ranks in the High School Hierarchy system. Throughout most of my childhood, I dreamed of one day being crowned Ms. America, but my dose of reality sunk in after my mother said it was inappropriate for an eight year old boy to be wearing high heeled shoes. I then told her that it was inappropriate to be wearing Mom Jeans at the age of twenty eight.
The following is an excerpt from the book I am writing called, “Skittles for Breakfast.” December has always been my favorite month. I even want to grace my first adopted daughter with the name DECEMBER and call her DESEE for short. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s not as bad as the name for my future second daughter, KACI, a name inspired by Kelly Clarkson’s first and last initials.
There is nothing more obnoxious than some attention loving drama queen walking around school on her birthday carrying fifteen hundred balloons (in various colors), a pink wand covered in glitter with a star attached to the top that reads “It’s My Birthday!”, while still managing to hold a pan of half eaten chocolate cake like the way a waitress would when bringing a platter to a table. Well, turns out this year, that bitch is me.