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Forgive Me Friday

puss n boots

Something tells me that if my face could do this I wouldn’t have gotten all of those speeding tickets.

When there are times that I am wrong (rarely ever), I say I am wrong. This is one of those times. I’ll start by extending an apology to the late Mary Kay. I don’t assume it is good for one’s karma to insinuate that the deceased mogul resembles a cross dressing Dustin Hoffman. In my defense, I wasn’t aware she wasn’t still around until last night at the “party”. Obviously, I am not a Mary Kay historian.

I have to give the company the credit it truly deserves. My apology is for judging the mascara by its applicator so to speak. Don’t worry, I wasn’t talked into joining the cult. I am not quitting my day job nor my dream of becoming a writer to paint pouts and strut around in mink stoles (knowledge courtesy of  Ms. Carolina). However, my perception of Mary Kay as changed for the better. Prior to last night, those perceptions were frozen in time. The last impression I have of the brand dates back to ’02 when I couldn’t escape the sight of my best friend’s high-resolution eye shadow every day in math class. She always bragged that it was Mary Kay and that her mother was a beauty consultant… so of course she knew what she was doing.

The truth is that I actually ended up buying about seventy dollars worth of the stuff and my purchases weren’t even influenced by friend-guilt. Well played Mary Kay, well played.

My second apology is to those of you who read this blog and is in regards to my post about not telling your friends if you plan to quit smoking. I am a lying hypocrite. Why? Because I did tell my friends. I told all of you. I consider anyone a friend who takes the time to read my junk (that’s what she said?). So, I apologize for not taking my own advice, and I sincerely thank all my blogging friends for being such dashing human beings. Unless you don’t think we are friends, in which case I hope you choke on a mink stole.

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24 Years and 10 Apologies

funny apology card

As I approach my 24th birthday in two weeks, I feel there are some apologies that need expressing.

1. First and foremost, I am sorry for that one time when I was ten and “accidentally” dropped that bird egg just to see what  would happen. I knew. Hello instant guilt and remorse. On the bright side, I then crossed murderer off my potential what-ill-grow-up-to-be list.

2. I am sorry and ashamed that I still haven’t learned to spell accidentally or pursue correctly on the first try. If it weren’t for those squiggly red lines sometimes I swear…

3. I apologize to my Iphone for treating you like Ren treats Stimpy. You stupid idiot.

4. I am particularly sorry for that time drunk-artist-me drew a mural in the ladies bathroom with my lipstick at insert-local-bar-name-here. Mostly, because I will never find a more perfect pout paint. And, a special apology to whomever had to clean it up, but you know I made up for it at the regulars’ Christmas party.

5. I am sorry that the last sentence of the previous apology had sexual undertones. I assure you the Christmas party was only PG-13 at most, and that I didn’t take anyone in to a coat room. We don’t even have coat rooms down here.

6. I am sorry that half pint regularly posts photos like this on my Facebook.

becca cord playing drums with a cat

6. Third floor apartment. No elevator. Do I even have to say it?

8. I’m sorry that number 7 was actually a lie. I am not sorry in the least. In fact, I want to make an album and use this photo mash up as cover art. Only with better shop-ing of my head.

9. No, I do not want to give you my name, number, e-mail address, pin number, fingerprint, and donate a dollar to the prevent paper cuts foundation. Sorry. I just want to go home.

10. More sincerely, I am sorry that I wasn’t thinking of what all that tanning with afro-sheen was going to do to my skin past the age of 16.

Here is to 24: the age when nothing happens. Isn’t it magical?

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