the unentitlement project

Keep Your Germs, You Filthy Animal

There are lots of times I’d like to get sick and sit around in bed watching old Seinfeld episodes or playing this game where I listen to really sad songs on repeat and wondering how many times I can play it before I either text that old friend who I haven’t spoken to in years out of the blue or get into the bathtub holding a cement block. It’s a super fun game. Kind of like Jumanji but way more interactive!

Bring me my breakfast in bedddddd

Bring me my breakfast in bedddddd

The holidays, one of the only times where everyone gets off work anyway, is NOT one of those times. The holidays are for funneling egg nog, chain smoking, watching Christmas movies and ingratiating myself to old relatives on the off chance they die soon and have no other ideas for appropriate heirs.
Santy don't visit the funeral homes, little buddy

Santy don’t visit the funeral homes, little buddy

But because everyone is saving their vacation time to blow on Christmas break everyone has come to work the past couple of weeks more sick than a priest with an annual passport to Disneyland. If I got a nickel for every time I said “bless you” or “god, that sounds awful” or “idlovetotryoneofyourhomemadetreatseventhoughiveseenyouinthebathroomandiknowyoudontwashyourhands” I would have myself a merry little Christmas to the tune of a PS4 and a house elf like Harry Potter had to do all my bidding.

Dobby is sorry he forgot to get the Marie Callender’s Ranch again, Amber Edwards. He knows how you hate the celery-laden mess that is Hidden Valley

At first I reacted the same way I always do when I’m around sick people, with that “I hardly ever get sick” swagger. But now I’m starting to get scared. By the time I get full-on congested, leaking, hacking sick these fools will be all better and I’ll be like Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off before he finally grew a pair and realized being the third wheel to a really hot couple isn’t so bad if you take frequent bathroom breaks. Except Cameron was stupid rich and could do rad voice impressions. I am without those particular consolations to keep me warm at night when I’m freezing from a fever and everyone else is nestled all snug in their beds.

So fair readers, if you think coming to work sick any time -but especially this most sacred time of year- makes you a hero, think again. It makes you a dick. And it makes the rest of us kinda hate you and that? is that gift that keeps on giving the whole year.

Jam? How's about I jam this up your ass?

Jam? How’s about I jam this up your ass?

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A Few of My Favorite Things

You know that moment in your day when one bad thing can become magnified into everything that is wrong with your life and create a tsunami of frustration/sadness/aggravation? That traffic jam, that broken grocery bag handle, that missing cup of beloved sweet n sour sauce. Nearly every day I have moments like this, moments where I’m outraged that the good day I feel entitled to becomes marred. It is that entitlement that takes me away from being able to appreciate everything in my life going right big and small, that stops me from noticing that I have a job, a home, a boyfriend and the most hilarious, supportive and entertaining friends and family a girl could want. It stops me from being happy that I have a nice car to get stuck in traffic in, money to buy the groceries now rolling down the gd driveway and…that’s where I have to stop. There is nothing redeemable about chicken nuggets without sweet n sour. They’re necessary. Like silpats to baking or pore minimizer to Bruce Jenner.

You're just jealous because other than the dick I have a better body than you. (He's not wrong)

You’re just jealous because other than the dick I have a better body than you. (He’s not wrong)

Whenever I have these thoughts I start working on reversing my negativity by counting my blessings and internally I am always able to bring myself around. Still it has occurred to me that it would be rad if there was a place I could go to that would expedite the frown turning upside down, an external source for busting up entitltement. Since I couldn’t find such a place I decided to create it. I present to you The Unentitlement Project. Any time you’re feeling like a nugget without its sauce, come on over.

Since it’s day one, I’m not going to go too deep. I’m just going to write a quick poem to the tune of My Favorite Things:

Meatballs on pasta and caramel on ice cream

Banging Mark Wahlberg in a really long dream

My sausage fingers all covered in rings

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Rocky Balboa pounding Apollo

Watching Real Housewives because I am shallow

Ignoring the calls of creepers that cling

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Dogs wearing sweaters and cops without radar

Dancing with men who set off my gaydar

A bucket of blue cheese and all of the wings

These are a few of my favorite things

 

When the boss lurks

When the cramps hurt

When I’m as broke as a bum

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don’t feel soooo glum

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