Last week, I was on the phone with Jeana, my best friend since kindergarten. I was telling her a story about how the front wheel of my bike was stolen outside at Union Station in DC after I was forced to leave my bike there overnight (the last metro home never came due to 'technical problems', of course). Jeana started laughing and goes,
"Sarah, it's like this. You know those small, round, punching bags that hang from the ceiling? Well, that bag is life. And for most people the bag (life) comes toward them and it's scary but they eventually hit it and save themselves and they're okay. But for you, it's like your hands are tied behind your back and the bunching bag just hits you in the face over and over and over again. Yep. That's your life."
A few other people have also suggested I start a blog or that they wanted to start a blog about me in order to document the ridiculousness of my life. So here it goes..
A Few Reasons Jeana's Description is Correct:
1. I'm unemployed. (internship and babysitting do not count)
2. I'm virtually homeless. (ie squatting in the spare bedroom of my best friend's families home)
3. I'm broke. (ie I will not answer calls from unknown phone numbers because it's likely CapitolOne trying to hunt me down for my 4month overdue credit card payment...)
4. I was hit by a car while riding my bike this past April. (ie causing obscene medical expenses which have since led to the CapitolOne's aforementioned stalking)
So as to not make one think I'm exaggerating about the 'ridiculousness', more reasons/stories from the past will be added with subsequent posts. Stay tuned!
