Sisterhood of Spinsters

My best friend asked me if I needed her to send an application to spinsterhood to me after I announced my d-o-double g plans to her. I thought this question was hilarious, although if I had PMS this week, it would have reduced me to a sobbing, quivering mess. Some days, that stuff is not "self-mocking funny", so much as it is "why bother, you pathetic excuse not-funny".
Excellent timing, Chips. You could have triggered the schizophrenic break that hasd been brewing for the last 10 years with one, seemingly innocuous comment.
I was uncharacteristically quick-witted when I reminded her that I'm not the one with the membership to AARP. For some reason, when she turned 30, the AARP sent her membership stuff and she joined.
She gets great discounts on hotels. I think the novelty of having an AARP card at 30 is pretty much unparalelled. You just don't see that anywhere.
But the application for spinsterhood comment was (luckily)hysterically funny to me, picturing a two-page .pdf file that I can print and fill out (black ink only), or complete online and email it to the Sisterhood of Spinsters to be considered for membership.
The application would have to have a great logo, watermarked of course. Maybe the logo would be a skull and crossbones with the word Sisterhood arcing over the top and the word Spinster curving below the skull. The middle would have an elaborate, cursive "of". I think in the negative space where the cross bones cross, I think I'd put little cat skulls.
I wonder what the application would ask:
1. Last Name
2. First Name
3. Middle Initial
4. Date of Birth (If you were born after 1974, you are not eligible for Sisterhood of Spinsters at this time. Please check back next year)
5. Marital Status (Check One:)
Married ____ (NOTE: By definition, you are not eligible for membership at this time. Please check back 2 years after your divorce becomes final and you lose interest in dating)
Divorced ___ Please attach a seperate sheet detailing the residual anger you feel and how you still dream about your ex-husband, even though you'd rather come home and watch America's Next Top Model and eat your toast alone than hear him tell you that you're getting fat while asking you, in the same breath, when dinner will be ready. NOTE: You are not eligible to join until a minimum of 2 years has passed from the date on which your divorce becomes final. There are special considerations made to those future spinsters who were once married but post-divorce began dating women. (Hey. It's my club, so I'll make the rules based on my own life experience. If you don't like, it, go make your own prestigious spinster association, dig?)
Lesbian _____ Please skip to the end of this application and sign if you wish to activate your automatic approval.
6. Pets. Tell us about your pets. Attach seperate sheet if necessary.
7. Favorite Lifetime Movie?
8. Number of stuffed animals on bed/in room?
9. Number of US Weekly magazines piled under the coffee table?
10. Last date lingerie was used/worn? By you?
11. Last date lingerie was purchased? NOTE: If this was BEFORE 1997, please skip to the end of the application and sign for automatic approval.
There's a new spinster in town. For being such a negatively connoted word, it's really kind of snappy: Spinster. Spinsterese. Spinsterning. Spinsternated. I like it! I'm going to start capitalizing on it! Ha-Ha, I have a copywrite here! Back off, vultures, with your stealing other peoples' ideas. You can't have this one!

Actually, it's probably all good that I'm into being a Spinster. I am having a great big gigantic crush on myself these days. I feel super-selfish lately, so I'm taking it to the next level: Real Narcissism.
I walk by mirrors and flirt with myself - I'll walk by and then kind of leeeean back to where I can just see my reflection and then I'll think to myself, "Hi." and bat my eyelashes - which are so long and lusious.
I curl up to read on my couch and I am SO CUTE. I can't imagine not wanting to touch my cheek or stroke my hair because they are just SO CUTE! Even hung-over and sleepily dehydrated, I am adorable. I draw both knees waaay up to my chest and sigh while I get cozy-cute to read my fashion magazene.
Laugh all you want bitches but I'm not crying about much lately.
While there is still like, an overwhelming amount of utter crap I have to sort through in the next 12 months, it's definitly made easier by falling in love with my gorgeous self.
It's liberating, is what it is.
There's this chick at work who always wears porn star shoes like I wore in the late 1990s and early 2000s. My Awsome Shoes Factors are way down these days, in the sense that I'm not going to wear chunky wooden heels without hosiery to work. I wear pants almost everyday, and often, I wear the same pants for three out of five of those days but my shoes vary so subtly that I like to think nobody knows how much I am wearing the exact same damn pants that I wore yesterday. You would be surprised how much people are not paying attention. This is why I like to call attention on the weekends, not with Candies High Heels but rather with how charming dressing like a hobo can be. I love to get as braless and ridiculously slobby as I can but still manage to stay on the right side of the line between those who think I am insane and those who find my funky sense of fashion interesting in a good way.
God! Those porno shoes piss me off.
As do the people who keep walking into my cubicle without doing that fake-ass "knock-knock" sing-songy thing that every single person does when s/he approaches a cubicle. FUCKING KNOCK ALREADY. I'M NOT WORKING ON WORK AND I NEED A WARNING!

arizonasarah at 11:56 a.m.

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