Damn you Christy

Christy involuntarily reminded me today via internet stalking that she's the most phenomenal writer ever. This makes me mad, because phenomenal is my word, damnit, and because she writes the way I think, but never write. Curses. Damn you. Damn you straight to my room.

Have you ever met someone who does something you thought was uniquely your own, but better? Ever had to realize that it's completely not ok to be mad at that person for it? Me neither.

I realize that what I like about her writing is that, well, she's a smarmy priss. Yes, hun, you are. And I respect that. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just running out of smarmy asshole. Have I really outdone myself? Did I really leave it all on (e)paper somewhere along the line? Am I not the bitter, disillusioned self I once thought myself to be?

Since I started getting my inner cynic down on here and out of my head, well, I'm just much less...me...than normal. Maybe I ought to stop blogging for a while.

Maybe I need to get the fuck over it and start making fun of people/myself again. Or change the background of my blog to pink to give it that bitchy girl feel. Or not.