Self-doubt for Dummies

Please read this blog to the tune of "Denvemolorado" by Atmosphere.

This will be a short blog. You are wondering how I find the time to write two blogs? I am unemployed. I am a lazy bum riding on the tail of her parent's financial success. Soon I will be employed and back in summer school. I urge you all to take full advantage of my frequent blogging while it lasts. On second thought, no, please do not do that.

Tonight is a night for self-doubt. It was 100 degrees today, and the heat, as it always does, has scorched the creativity out of me. I decided to take a bath in preparation for my photo session with the self-timer on my camera. I managed to wash my greasy mop of hair, but the hot water was flowing like molasses, and in the quiet of my bathroom I could hear the call of Myspace. Potato chips, men, and Myspace make me weak in the knees. Needless to say I gave in. Myspace lurking has lost its appeal, unless it is to overanalyze the state of my face and hair in my photos, and so I decided on blog surfing instead. I stumbled upon this. Please click on the link for fantastic shit talking.

The twins awoke from their evening nap. Feeling irritated at a premature awakening they conjured insecurity to send it along the synapses of my nervous system. I can feel the prick of my doubt in my toes and fingers. I am going to need drugs to block the receptors. After reading the fantastical world of shit talking by the foot fetish fantasy Lisa Lewd, I left her blog world to read through mine.

Would you like to know my thoughts? I thought so. It went like this.

Marissa: For fucks sake why do I insist on writing?

Twins: That's right Marissa. You should just give up.

Marissa: My blogs are shit.

Twins: Yes, they are.

Marissa: Damnit. What the hell am I going to do for a career?

Twins: Strip.

Marissa: No, I'll get kicked out of the house. I don't want to be homeless.

Twins: Well you won't be a journalist.

Marissa: Screw you.

Twins: You are not Diablo Cody. Go work for the Northglenn Sentinel.

Marissa: Never. Let's just get drunk.

Twins: Alright

I went through a few of my recent blogs. I did my best to adjust the obviously terrible, but I am in need of a writing re-vamp. I will pay in popsicles and dirty photos.

Once again contact my secretary for details.

"Bend me up, slip me the tongue, shoot me down. Cut me loose, bury me, and piss on the ground."