It takes one to know one, as the old saying goes. And I'll admit it: I'm a failure.
I still fall off my bike. I still get nervous when I talk to boys. I still -ahem- sleep with a teddy bear.
His name is Mr. Snuggly-Goo.
And I think he's cute.
My name is Marcey. You may have noticed me indark, abandoned corners, conversing with a friendly-looking spider. Perhaps you've seen my numerous unflattering and awkward photos in the yearbook. Lester Maggle, the head yearbook photographer, is out to get me, you know. He's spiteful ever since I rejected his offer for a date in the eigth grade. Chances are, you've caught me talking to the guy you'd never give the time of day, because he has a slight allergy problem and occasionally sneezes all over the person he's talking to.
It's really not that bad.
...
Okay, it's pretty bad.
He's still a nice guy.
I like to think of myself as...unique. I can't be labeled. I'm not a trend-follower; I'm a trend-setter. I'm setting the fashions that future generations will look back upon and say: "My, that Marcey had class."
Other people see me as well, a dork.
A loser.
A nerd.
Nimrod.
Brace-face.
Four-eyes.
Bigfoot.
Gawky.
Geeky.
Grody.
Weirdo.
...
A failure.
And I can only assume that you are here for one of two reasons:
1.) To laugh at me (jerk)
2.) You are also a failure
If the latter is the case, welcome to the club. You can pick up a complimentary t-shirt and tofu cookie in the lobby.
Perhaps you are in failure-denial. Don't worry; you are not alone. There are millions of girls out there denying their loserdom and living in the sad folly that they are hard-core and awesome.
I, on the other hand, won't deny it. There must've been a classs I missed, one where they brainwashed teenage girls into the 'ideal' girl that gets alongmarvelously with guys, one that's inherently good at dating and flirting and other tactful things.
But as I said, I didn't get the memo.
So instead, I'm here, making my fame and fortune in sharing the awkwardness of the loser-corner.
In case you hadn't predicted, the subject, cause, and root of all my awkwarness is boys.
If I haven't dulled you sensesless, then join me by my fire of bewildering story-telling.
Join me.
It's better over here.
...have a tofu cookie.
I still fall off my bike. I still get nervous when I talk to boys. I still -ahem- sleep with a teddy bear.
His name is Mr. Snuggly-Goo.
And I think he's cute.
My name is Marcey. You may have noticed me indark, abandoned corners, conversing with a friendly-looking spider. Perhaps you've seen my numerous unflattering and awkward photos in the yearbook. Lester Maggle, the head yearbook photographer, is out to get me, you know. He's spiteful ever since I rejected his offer for a date in the eigth grade. Chances are, you've caught me talking to the guy you'd never give the time of day, because he has a slight allergy problem and occasionally sneezes all over the person he's talking to.
It's really not that bad.
...
Okay, it's pretty bad.
He's still a nice guy.
I like to think of myself as...unique. I can't be labeled. I'm not a trend-follower; I'm a trend-setter. I'm setting the fashions that future generations will look back upon and say: "My, that Marcey had class."
Other people see me as well, a dork.
A loser.
A nerd.
Nimrod.
Brace-face.
Four-eyes.
Bigfoot.
Gawky.
Geeky.
Grody.
Weirdo.
...
A failure.
And I can only assume that you are here for one of two reasons:
1.) To laugh at me (jerk)
2.) You are also a failure
If the latter is the case, welcome to the club. You can pick up a complimentary t-shirt and tofu cookie in the lobby.
Perhaps you are in failure-denial. Don't worry; you are not alone. There are millions of girls out there denying their loserdom and living in the sad folly that they are hard-core and awesome.
I, on the other hand, won't deny it. There must've been a classs I missed, one where they brainwashed teenage girls into the 'ideal' girl that gets alongmarvelously with guys, one that's inherently good at dating and flirting and other tactful things.
But as I said, I didn't get the memo.
So instead, I'm here, making my fame and fortune in sharing the awkwardness of the loser-corner.
In case you hadn't predicted, the subject, cause, and root of all my awkwarness is boys.
If I haven't dulled you sensesless, then join me by my fire of bewildering story-telling.
Join me.
It's better over here.
...have a tofu cookie.
