Gchat: Bringing Families Together Since 2007

Let me start off by saying, I don't actually know when Gchat started. I would imagine it was when Gmail started, but I'm not really into research, so let's just pretend it was in 2007.

Often, I Gchat with my sister. We rarely talk on the phone and live 1000 miles apart, so Gchat "keeps the magic alive"...in a totally-non-sexual-weirdo kind of way. Some of my best material happens during these Gchat sessions and it also keeps me mostly sane. An added bonus is keeping up-to-date on things happening back home that no one tells me about. Mostly because they know I don't really care.

We usually talk about things that are totally unimportant and not even vaguely interesting, which is usually about the time it gets interesting. Here, I present an example.

This conversation comes after I explained to my sister that I randomly started crying at work and she asked if I was pregnant and I told her no, just stressed. I tell you this just so you can understand the context (that does not exist). I also would like to point out, like I did to her, that it wasn't ugly crying, just tears in my eyes and that I also don't ever cry which is why it was such a disturbing episode. People are so ugly when they cry.

Sister:  omg. i was wearing an older shirt yesterday & the f-ing elbow ripped right before i went to court* so, it's, like, 12 degrees in the courtroom & my sleeves are pushed up jauntily to try & cover the rip. SO awesome but, I did order a new shirt to replace it.

Me:  wow. did you love the shirt ? do I need to write a eulogy? what did the shirt look like?

Sister:  I did love it. it was a white button down with 2 color blue pinstripes. I had it on under this fab new charcoal sheath dress I got. I looked so damn good. Stupid shirt.

Me:  Today we are gathered here to celebrate the life of a wonderful shirt. This shirt was known for it's punctuality, sensuality and, most importantly, it's ability to cover arms and boobs. Not only did this shirt have one color of blue stripes, it has a second color, just in case the first wasn't your favorite shade of blue. Dear shirt, how we will miss you, what with the hole in the elbow and all, rendering you totally useless in life...except to maybe homeless people. I'm sure homeless people would love that shirt and totally not even care about the blown out elbow. We will miss you shirt...unless you are converted into a short sleeved shirt, in which case, see you in the spring.

Me:  you're welcome.

Sister:  That's amazing. Thank you. It isn't being converted into anything except trash.

Me:  Homeless people need shirts too.

*I should probably point out that she's an attorney, so she wasn't in court as a defendant (this time...jk...kind of). I feel like if you're in court as a defendant in her cases, you're probably not going to care much about a hole in the elbow of a delicious pin-striped shirt. Or maybe you would. And that's why you stole something.

Someone Pay Me Already!

I network, socially, often. I have Twitter apps and Facebook apps and Yelp apps and all kinds of apps and some of them don't even work. I post "hilarious" updates and statuses and photos and links and revel in the comments and the conversations I have with my friends and family about them. My boyfriend, however, does not think it's as hilarious because I'm typically posting these hilarious updates via my phone while he is present. We both work long hours, he works Saturdays, too, so I guess I can see why he might be a bit irritated, but when your girlfriend is as hilarious and entertaining as I am, I really think he should just let it slide.

A few days ago it occurred to me that if I was getting paid to write hilarious things and post awesome status updates about homeless guys in the bowling alley dancing to Boyz II Men, he could never be mad at me again! So I asked him, "Greg, if I was getting paid to do all of this, would I still be in trouble?" and he said, "No." And thus, my quest begins.

I have always wanted to be a writer...of some sort. I "published" my first book when I was in 1st grade and had my first poem actually published when I was about 6. In retrospect, I'm sure everything I wrote back then was total garbage and everyone was just being nice because I was trying to be a writer at such a young age, but the groundwork was laid. Since then, I've had a number of random, totally-unrelated-to-writing jobs and have really enjoyed a few of them, but have never really found anything I want to be married to. Writing is the one thing I keep coming back to. Unfortunately, as most people know, finding a job where you actually get paid to write is very, very, very, very difficult; hence, my quest. I figure, if it doesn't work out, what the heck. I gave it a shot and am no worse off than I was before AND a few people got to read some of my completely insane life stories that could only happen to me.

If you want to pay me to write, please contact me. I'll take your money. If you don't, no problem. Enjoy the free laughs.