Discovering New And Somewhat Troubling Things About Yourself

Being as unemployed as I am, I try to keep myself occupied as much as possible. Mostly, I work out, read books, watch An Effing Lot of films and television shows, and carry on a somewhat tenuous relationship with my blog (...and reality). I also spend an inordinate amount of time texting my gainfully employed friends and begging them to take me shopping or go out drinking with me on school nights. Since I neither have a reason to get up before noon or an automobile of any kind during the day, I've discovered a few things about myself of which I was previously unaware.

First of all, I can easily stay up all night reading articles on Cracked.com and giggling audibly if I don't physically and chemically force myself to go to sleep. I do have a love/hate relationship with Cracked, considering that while I find a certain columnist by the name of Chris Bucholz to be inspirational and hilarious in a way that makes me kind of want to makeout with him in the back of a Vista Cruiser circa 1977, it often makes me angry that no matter how hard I try I will never be as funny as he regularly is. In fact, I have made a whole list of people in my head who I will never be remotely as witty as, and that list makes me slightly suicidal when I think about it. Emotions. Moving on.

The second new thing I've learned about myself recently is that I'm really, really, like professional-level good at avoiding my family and generally being alone. I can stay in my bedroom for an entire 24 hours with the door locked, no sweat. My bedroom is awesome and full of comfortable furniture to sit on and neat stuff to fiddle around with. I also have a treadmill in here and my own bathroom and enough floor space to do cartwheels if ever I feel so inclined. If I had a hot plate and a small refrigerator, my parents would probably never see me again unless I needed to replenish funds. Considering I'm also really good at being quiet and sneaky and I often creep down the stairs and out the door with nary a soul being any the wiser. This sounds very sad, but it kind of makes me feel like a ninja and it's a point of pride so just let me have my moment, KTHANKS.

My third new thing is actually pretty shameful. (Just do it like a bandaid, Marisa. Get it over with quickly, it will only hurt for a second)....Sooooo, you know those internet pop-ups that offer you really cool free stuff? I regularly click on those and I honestly don't know what possesses me to do it (I didn't even know I wanted a Kindle, but don't mind if I do, Internet!). It's like I think one day it's all just going to show up on my doorstep and all those dead-end surveys will have been totally worth every minute of my life I'll never get back. On that day, expect me to be excessively smug, as I prance around the coffee shop with my free iPad, iPhone 4G, and AmazonKindle (all for the low low price of having spent 500 straight hours filling out online surveys and $1,000 in lapsed Netflix "free trials" and BareMinerals makeup). Consumerism is a serious disease, people. Not like Alcoholism and Tourette Syndrome (which are equal parts fun and hilarious, to the point that I often fake having both of them simultaneously, because when is that ever NOT the most amusing thing you could possibly imagine?). Is it just me? Probably.

Ok. The last new thing I've discovered about myself that I'm going to share with you today is something I find extremely curious, and which I feel deserves an in-depth, government-funded sociological study. Here it is. I have found that if I hate someone or something hard enough and for long enough, at some point I reach an Apex of Hatred, after which I begin to actually love him/her/it. Example: The Kardashian Family, collectively. Oh, how I detested and abhorred the entire clan once upon a time! I used to feel about the Kardashians the way I currently feel about The Jersey Shore. By which I mean that they made my soul weep for humanity on a daily basis. Every single time one of those dumb plastic bitches opened her mouth, I wanted to shut it for her, violently. I don't know precisely when this began to change for me, but now I find myself wishing for three illiterate sisters with shiny, beautiful hair extensions who would love me unconditionally and tell me how pretty I am, and we could ride around in a Range Rover playing pranks on my mother and having inappropriate sexual conversations with Bruce Jenner (and if you don't absolutely LOVE stepdaddy Bruce, I'm pretty sure you don't have a soul or a sense of humor, because Bless.His.Heart. The man is a saint), in between getting matching nosejobs and bikini waxes together. Maybe they could hook me up with my very own sexy, African American boyfriend, and life would be blissful and I'd never have to wear the same outfit twice...Sigh. How's that for baring my soul? Life is rough now that I look to Khloe Kardashian for wise insights into the human condition. Anyway, I'm going to go measure my ass to make sure it's still smaller in circumference than Kim's, KBYE!

P.S. I still hate Scott Disick. If there is a human being on this planet more worthless and less self-aware than that arrogant metrosexual manchild, they have yet to be located and tagged. Runners up include every male cast member of The Jersey Shore and a select few of my ex-boyfriends.