I’ve been in a pretty sassy mood today, which means that it is the perfect time for another edition of:
1. Sorry I’m not sorry for judging girls who wear Uggs. I will admit, I had a pair, back when I was in college. In 2003. When I was rocking the whole “beach bum” (emphasis on bum) look. People told me then that they were hideous, and they were right.
That was 10 years ago. If you are still wearing them today, you truly have no excuse. You look stupid, especially if you wear them with shorts or a skirt. They make your legs look fat even. Don’t tell me they are comfy, because so are house slippers. Just stop.
2. Sorry I’m not sorry for polishing off that bottle of wine on a week night. It was delicious and I needed that.
3. Sorry I’m not sorry for cursing my Fed Ex delivery man this morning. He was long gone and didn’t hear me, but I wish he had.
He was not as nice as the guy in this picture seems.
Look, if a package requires a signature and you ring the bell, wait a few seconds after ringing it. If I am at home, that means that I am most likely not wearing pants. I want to save you the awkward moment of me answering the door pantless, so I need a few seconds to pull some on before running to the door. I pulled on a pair of scrubs! No buttons, zippers, nothing– it took me like 3 seconds, and then I ran to the door. When I opened it, you were already driving down the street, leaving me with a door sticker that says I have to wait until tomorrow.
4. Sorry I’m not sorry for rolling my eyes at all of this new pope selection drama. I totally respect Catholics and get that this is a big deal, but why all of the black smoke-white smoke nonsense? Why the secretive deliberations?
No one can deny that a lot of the church’s problems stem from clothing in secrecy what goes on behind closed doors, so why don’t they use this opportunity to modernize a little and make the process more transparent? I’d prefer if members of the church had a say in who their leader was, rather than sitting around watching smoke come out of a chimney as others decide for them.
So there. I’m not sorry. A thug never apologizes.