Kate Wyett

Ya'll, it's amazing what the word free does to normally sane people.

I just got a "care package" from my mama. And I use that word very very lightly because... Mama has a tendency to go into Dallas and go shopping. Which is completely fine, except then she spends a whole bunch more money than she needs to spend to get free things and then she gathers up all her gifts-with-purchases and sends them to me as a "care package".

Now, on one level? One time she send me a Marc by Marc Jacobs bag. (Which... I didn't even ASK how much she spend to get a whole bag for free.) And then today? Weird orange lipstick and fuzzy purple heart shaped pillow.

And then Daddy called me to drunkenly cheer about the Superbowl. I think his high school buddies were singing something in the background.

End of story: I'm pretty sure Texans are crazy. Specifically my Mama and Daddy.

( Think of what's great about me and you. )

How terrible is it that it's 10:30 on a Friday night and I am working on key words?

For a monologue I'm not even doing. Just one I read for Shakespeare class.

I honestly honestly am beginning to think I have a disease. A dorky dorky disease. *sigh*

And you'd think the fact that I work so hard would. Shut up, Kate.

And the fact that I'm posting this in my journal? Probably even le worse.

I will not be the girl, stuck at home in the 'burbs
With the baby, the dog and the garden of herbs
I will not be the girl in the sensible shoes
Pushing burgers and beer nuts and missing the clues
I will not be the girl who gets asked how it feels
To be trotting along at the genius' ( heels )