Anyone who has been friends with me since my college days of epic AIM away messages is well aware that one of my lifelong dreams is to name a dog “your mom.”  How fucking* awesome is that?  Can you just imagine how hilariously awkward it would be to hear things like, “CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL YOUR MOM TO STOP HUMPING MY LEG?”, “YOUR MOM IS SHITTING IN THE HALLWAY… AGAIN!  SHE’S SUCH A BITCH,” or “YOUR MOM WON’T STOP SNIFFING MY CROTCH.  THIS IS A LITTLE, OK MAYBE A LOT, CREEPY.  PLEASE MAKE HER STOP.”

Well, all these years I’ve thought these sorts of deep thoughts made me a unique and brilliant individual, until I discovered that some ass monkey (i.e. my blogging idol) had already discussed such an enlightening and deep topic.  With an even better dog name:  “My vagina.”  I would link to the exact entry I discovered on this fine, exciting Saturday night, but I accidentally closed the window and when I tried to google “The Bloggess, my vagina,” I came up with some very interesting and disturbing search results.  So you can search for the specific post yourself, loyal readers.

It’s kind of like my life has no meaning now.  I mean, before I received this heartbreaking news, if I flunked out of law school and became some sort of social failure, at least I still had the hope of “your mom” going for me.

Actually, I think I read the “my vagina” entry a long time ago, but I had forgotten about it until now.  Whatever, my life is over either way.

*I’ve been trying not to cuss in blog posts, but I’ve officially given up.  We all know I curse like a sailor.  (Pun intended, given that I am, in fact, a sailoress and do actually sail.)  I was living a blogging lie by pretending a foul word never left my mouth.