Monday, September 10, 2007

Call me Eeyore

Today I am throwing myself a pity party. There are a number of reasons, most of them way too dull to be discussed her, but let's just leave it at the fact that none of you probably want to read anything I would write today. Think Sylvia Plath, but whinier and not as literary. I mean, none of her books mentioned she was upset because her fat girl jeans didn't fit.

I have a lot to write about... tune in tomorrow.


mom said...

call me

Amanda said...

It is ok.
Just think that somewhere there is a Crocs rehab.

You could write a memoir about your sting tin Crocs-hab and call it "A Million Little Pieces" in honor of Sally.

Wendy King said...

I want to know what's pissing you off today. How come the page won't come up?