Kim Kardashian's 2016 Resolutions, I Mean Small Goals

Last summer, I started Skrapping Kim. I'm new to the scrapbook world, but went to Michael's and found the most plastic, blank book I could find and a whole lot of Rub Ons.

And, what great timing: the announcement of her 2nd pregnancy came along like a blast of shit from a cow's behind.

No one thought a second child would happen.  Months before Kim had shared, "The doctors said he thinks I'm having sex too much. He said one time is more powerful…so we've tried everything."

And, Lord she struggled.

She complained, "I'm really not complaining, I'm just being honest about [it]. I hate it...I'm not going to sit here and lie and act like it's the most blissful experience. It's awful..."It [Pregnancy] is the worst experience of my life."

It blows because these comments must sting a lot of people. Kim, a woman who has had to mount Kanye West 15 times a day, looking at his misery face while matching her rhythm to the slap of his chest medallions, should understand the agony of women who would do anything to have a child --  women who pee on sticks until dehydration in hope of pregnancy.

Due to exhaustion, she is setting small goals, though she concedes that "Long-term goals (like saving money or learning a new language) are important, too."

Most of her followers can't find the time to learn Igbo, though I call BS anyway. Can you see Kim ordering Rosetta Stone off late night TV?

And we poor slobs saving money? Ha. My sister can't even patch the hole in the roof so her kids stop tripping over buckets.


Here are Kim's officially released "small goals":

1. Dumping the weight that Saint "caused" (and Saint on the ugliest, fattest nanny she could find) is the "number one thing [she] wants to accomplish!"

2.  At some point it will be time for Kim to take on her 20 million dollar mansion.  Designers will bust ass to make it homey and less like a factory full of tuning forks.

3.  "I'd like to do some really cool photo shoots for my Web site."  I just can't.

4. She wants "a few more fun weekend trips" with her followers. Shit. Now I have to decide between fun weekend trips with Kim and fixing my kid's cleft palate.

5.  "I also want to plan a West family vacation—it’s a project in itself to find the time!"

*That ass mounting a jet ski? I have a fat ass, but as least I would't submerge my craft under a blast of silicone.

6. Lastly, she wants to learn "how to do the splits!"  My brain's clogged with comments, so I'm just gonna wrap up this post.


She's an overachiever and I now feel like a loser.

Not really, though. While I do have goals, my mental and physical issues keep me living one day at a time. I find when I make goals, or promise family or friends that I'll attend a party or meet them at the gross Olive Garden, I take the chance of letting them down. Then, I feel really guilty. If it's a holiday celebration, and for whatever reason I just don't feel that I can handle the day, I'm leaving myself open to a day alone - especially while knowing others are together, laughing, being "normal," and having fun -- and that may make me feel worse.

Then, I feel emptier, more alone, and like I will never fit. I consider what they think of me, and why I rarely attend events. Maybe they think I'm Rudolph and have a bulbous red nose, so logically, they think I'm at an AA meeting. "Wow," they raise their glasses, "she's really making healthy choices!"


By the way, I don't drink..but, I do like Captain Crunch with Berries and I'm 44 years old.



H.




*we all know that twat was repaired before she even saw the kid

The New Year's Celebration of a Depressed Single: When Harry Met Sally

Hello!

I hope this is helpful for many:


If you feel like a hot, depressed mess around New Year's, do avoid watching the rip-your-barely-beating-heart-from-your-chest, (if you don't want to expend that kind of effort because you're emotionally exhausted or barely comatose from some medication cocktail involving Risperadone/Klonopin/etc. that's OK ) movie When Harry When Sally.


As with many movies, the barely sufferable part is the end. For many, I suppose the New Year's eve scene that involves "Auld Lang Syne" and coconut cake with some shit on the side is heartwarming. 

Many will say "Aww...that's so sweet." or, if next to their loved one, "Honey, don't you remember our first New Year's Eve together? to which he or she replies, "Of course, baby, you know I saved pieces of confetti!"

If you are anything like me, however, you spent New Year's eve cramming handfuls of popcorn down your gullet while tears poured down your greasy face and soaked the tentlike flannel nightgown that is a handme down from a dead relative.


Here's a refresher of the famous ending of When Harry Met Sally in case you want to get to the snort-cry stage without a 90-minute investment.

---

Cue Frank Sinatra singing "It Had to Be You" and balloons flying in the background until the joyful, kazoo-playing revelers are interrupted by the New Year's count: Ten, nine, blah blah, one!"

Of course, people are cheering and couples are making out -- people who you're sure will go home and have marathon sex unless the guy's too drunk to get it up.

The scene that slays people is as follows:

Billy Crystal's character, Harry Burns, is running through the streets wearing a Member's Only jacket.

He bursts into the party where Sally is getting ready to go home for the same reason I sat on the couch stuffing my face with popcorn and Pepperidge Farm Sausalitos.

The poor thing is alone.  She is at New Year's celebration and knows everyone there is planning to kiss at midnight.  Losers are pursuing her. She heads for the door, all pout-mouthed and melancholy. We are meant to commiserate with her character not only because her life blows and she is a pain in the ass, but because her jewel-toned dress threatens to expose the top of her boobies and her hair looks like a Chia Pet.

(However, I do like her lipgloss.)

Harry appears and breathlessly scans the room.

He is lovelorn and worried that he just missed her. Were this a movie today, he wouldn't bother to show up. He'd just text, but whatever.


Harry: I've been doing a lot of thinking. The thing is I love you.
Sally: What?
H: I love you.
S: How do you expect me to respond to this?
H: How about you love me too?
S: How about I'm leaving?
H: Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?
S: Sorry Harry. I know it's New Years eve and I know you're feeling lonely but you just cant show up here  and tell me you love me and expect that to make everything all right! It doesn't work this way!
H: Well how does it work?
S: I don't know, but it's not this way.
H: How about this way?'  (Which sorta sounds dirty, no?)

Get read to wipe your snot with the sleeve of your nightgown.


Harry: I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Sally: You see, that is just like you Harry. You say things like that making it impossible to hate you and I hate you Harry. I really hate you.

::Mouthing:: I hate you.


Then they make out while smiling and you're on the floor calling for your cat because it's the only living thing in the house, but she doesn't come. She's sleeping somewhere and the only time you'll see her is for breakfast.

So, this all sucks, and I love coconut cake which makes it worse because I think about going to the store to buy one, but it's past midnight and Maine sucks so there are no stores open past sundown. (Not just on holidays.)

So, yay for 2016!


The good news is that you can buy Meg Ryan's original face at your nearest plastic surgeon's office.