In other news, we have no news

All I have to say is that I have nothing to say. I have nothing going on and therefore have nothing to tell you, but am here nonetheless because I need to tell you something. 

It reminds me of when news outlets were alerting us every five minutes on election night to report that they had nothing to report. In case you don’t recall, or had the willpower not to watch until it was all over, allow me to remind you what news coverage was like on election night, regardless of which channel you were on:

*dramatic music plays*

Breaking News! Trump is leading in the state of Oklahoma, but it is still too close to call. That might be because we only have less than one percent of the vote in.”

I was glued to my television set for three days straight, so much so, that I ended up developing mild crushes on the different news anchors. It got to the point where I was going to risk it all for Jake Tapper. 

Although my education is suffering while I stay at home, I am getting my masters degree in bitching. I finally understand the expression “to wake up on the wrong side of the bed,” because sometimes all it takes is getting out of bed to get pissed. 

My cats are still adorable. I’ve officially become one of those ladies who is too obsessed with her cats. Like most of the world, I’ve been watching “The Crown” on Netflix. At just 20 years old, Princess Diana was marrying the heir apparent, while I, at age 19, am doing my homework the day that it’s due. 

I have nothing going on in my life, aside from the part-time job that I go to once a week and the arrival of my aunt, uncle, and two cousins. I then had a full-time job as a babysitter. I’ve been on-call to play pool and chess for the past few days, so I’ll probably come out of this as a grandmaster and a pool-shark. 

Me on my break from babysitting. That’s a lolly pop stick not a cigarette, be not alarmed.

I’ve been reading “Emma” by Jane Austen and thinking that to be a well-meaning, but ultimately selfish, socialite at the top of the landed-gentry social class in regency England, would really be something. I could be like Emma Woodhouse. I have complete confidence that all of my ideas are perfect and that’s the type of willful ignorance a person needs in order to be a match-maker who meddles in other people’s love lives. 

In all fairness, we’ve all had to forgo developments in our personal lives; it’s not just me sitting at home, watching television and trying to rise to the occasion of my school work. Thankfully, Thanksgiving came and broke up the monotony. I ate so much food that when I woke up the next morning, it felt like I had been in a medically-induced coma. Seriously, I felt like a magnet was pulling me down to my bed.

Me gearing up for Thanksgiving feast

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us, I can now move on to the most wonderful time of the year.

The Tragic Queen,


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