stoopid is

Chronicles of my constant mishaps and retarded nature.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The Monsters ate my brain!

And other true stories from the worlds most popular genius.

When I peaked my head out and looked at the doctor he grimaced and said “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t think the rest of the world is ready for you yet.” It was at that precise moment on a cool January evening my mother gave her final push; the doors to the ambulance flung open and little baby Emily went flying into the night. This was all followed by a loud THUD, and the squealing of tires. The proud owner of a 1977 Peterbilt truck scratched his head as he opened the door and stepped outside. His heart was pounding, the welt on his forehead rising, and he approached what he hoped was a cruel joke only to find a wee little version of me, staring up at him.

Well, that was my sister’s version of the story.

For many years I thought I was the outcast, the nerd, the ugly one, the flat chested one and the one who drove my great grandma Parkinson from Maine to New Jersey in a super-cool red fire truck. Later in life I learned I was sorely mistaken. Out of all the things I was led to believe, all the things that were egged on by my surroundings, the one thing that held true above all others was the fact that in sixth grade I was buffed by an angel. Well…that’s not entirely true; I was buffed by two angels. I spent many years trying not to allow this to go to my head but I couldn’t help it. I was blessed in the most uncommon sort of way and I wanted to let the world know.

After many weird looks and rude comments about my higher being I was broken. I caved and succumbed to the negative world around me. I believed these things, I had no choice. If everyone else says I’m the pariah, then it must be true. I soul searched, I grew horns, and I made eggs explode in the microwave. One day it came to me, my light bulb turned on above my miraculous dome of a head. I was not the weird one. I was not the loser. I was on the other hand a proud owner of a 1987 Chuckie Cheese coin, which if you’re lucky I’ll let you touch it. Aside from that, I knew what I was. I was a tugboat in a sea of insanity. It was I that was the sane one, and it was everyone else who was insane. They had figured it out and they are jealous. They are trying to sink me…I am the tug boat…I will not sink…I will eat my gummy bear vitamins. I will carry on.

My nuclei think I’m cool because they always stick around for the encore.

This one’s for Tim who thinks my writing is genius and it’s for those who never let me down, despite my nonsensical writing. This is for those who get it (I will proceed to laugh at those who don't).


At 11/16/05, 6:36 PM, Blogger Cardboard Knight said...

ur funnnyyy...


At 11/16/05, 7:55 PM, Blogger Stoopidgirl said...

that's what I hear.

At 11/16/05, 8:41 PM, Anonymous j/c said...

I'm reading this while having a beer and trying to watch a televised tribute to Johnny Cash. Norah Jones is singing "Home of the Blues."

Redundant? Hmmm . . .

A January b/day eh? Same here.

At 11/16/05, 8:58 PM, Blogger Stoopidgirl said...

oh yeah? we should have a big shindig! cause I never get to have a party...especially not on my B-day

At 11/17/05, 7:57 AM, Blogger deetour said...

party in ur pants

At 11/22/05, 11:56 AM, Anonymous BenStein said...

Stoopidgirl's life story, the Cliff's Notes version: You're born, a trucker almost runs over you, you're a pariah even though you are blessed from on high, and you hang with angels during recess. -THE END


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