Okay America,
I get it. I look exactly like my mother. But …Oh. Dear. God. The next person that comes up to me and says, “By golly, it’s like looking at the Olsen twins…except wrinklier….and fatter…and not blonde/famous/or cute.”
…I’m going to cut you.
No seriously, bitches who feel the need to point of the obvious while wolfing down a McRib, I’m going to take my butcher knife out of my party poof and cut you…. yes cut you, with a smile on my face.
That’s my bread and butter, bitches…my bread and butter.
So let me just say this… you’ve been warned, America.
Seriously, last week someone said, “You can definitely tell ya’ll are kin.”
….There are so many things wrong with that statement.
First of all, who the fuck says kin anymore?
And B…what the fucking fuck?
Is it really that weird for a 22 year-old daughter to look EXACTLY like her 52 year-old mother.
Isn’t that the basic philosophy of Botox/Low-Carb Diets/Quiznos?
I’d show you a picture of my madre and me so you could see the resemblance, but my bro keeps snitching on me when I write about my parents.
Bro, you’re 26, stop snitching, or I won’t be your DD to the strip club this week...but thanks for reading my blog.
The worst part is my mom fucking loves that shit. Never fails to plaster a shit-eating grin on her face when she gets compared to someone 30 years younger than her.
“I bet I get carded today.”
“…Sure you will.”
She did… get carded that day. Whatever, I had braces then…it was a very weird scenario.
Well, to be perfectly honest she loved getting compared to me until just recently….
I shit you not, a cashier said this to me and my mother on Sunday….
“Well at least… when your mother dies, every time you look in the mirror…it will be like she never left.”
“…Great.”
I don’t think this pleased my mom….
“What the fucking fuck?!”
