Dear Girl at the Bar In the Skank Dress,


I think I owe you an apology. I made some assumptions about you and I never should have – you’re a complete stranger and, heck, for all I know you were wearing that dress because you’re broke and all you can afford are discounted dresses from the hooker store.

These are hard economic times.

It’s possible that you were planning to walk home last night. In that case, wearing a day-glow pink outfit was a smart move. Safety first, my curvy friend.

It was rude of me to call you that. Because “curvy” sometimes can be construed as “fat”. Not the cool “ph” kind either. The kind you call the little kid who can’t fit in the swing. (I just pictured that and now I feel bad for saying it… and laughing)

Now, I am by no means stick thin. I could stand to lose some, and would if I wasn’t so fucking lazy. So I’m really no one to talk… which is why I should apologize for commenting on the fact that your safety outfit seemed to fit you like a bandaid…. and I’m sorry for subsequently referring to you as, “the bandaid”.

It was wrong of me to assume that the reason you were wearing something that snug fitting was to ensure that the gentleman in the Affliction shirt would screw your brain cell out later. I mean, he was feeling you up anyway. I guess he’d have figured out what you’re shaped like no matter what you were wearing. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have time for late night sex. You have to get your rest before whore church in the morning.

Maybe, just maybe, the dress was meant to make you more aerodynamic so you could speed-walk home more efficiently. Or run away when MMA D-bag didn’t heed your rape whistle.

Another thing I’d like to repent for is getting annoyed when you were in my way. It’s not like I didn’t see you, in all of your pink glory, from 10 feet away. I should have been proactive and chosen an alternate route.

In closing, I want you to know that if I am ever put in this situation again, I’ll probably react the same way. And next time I probably won’t apologize later.

I’ll just repost this.

In case I never see you again –


I’m Not Going to Say That This Is Me as a Baby

But I’m also not going to lie and say it isn’t.

And I’m not going to say that I don’t look a little downsy.

What Al Gore, Midgets and the Internet Have in Common

Anna: I never thought I would find something that amazing googling “chicken dance”.
Jerome: The internet is amazing.
Anna: Yeah! where else could you find recipes for cookies and bombs?
Jerome: And midget wrestling.
Anna: I wonder if Al Gore pictured all that when he invented the internet.
Jerome: He invented it to share his midget wrestling video with his buddies.

Bill and the Actual Lesbian

Anna: Understandadably.
AL: (ignoring my spelling and continuing our conversation about her ex) Yeah. We have gotten to the point where we can hug and not half expect a stab wound.
Anna: That’s goodaly toots.
AL: What? I brought my sick lady friend 7up. I get good potential gf points, right?
Anna: Only if it was dapple doople.
AL: Is your downs acting up again?
Anna: No. I have a bad case of the cosbys. Jello. Pudding.

I should have warned her that I had just taken an Ambien.

The Anna Song

So, I’ve been working on music more than I’ve been working on the site… shit happens. But in the interest of not abandoning you guys completely, here’s what I wrote today. (And yes, the title is “The Anna Song”)


I didn’t get us lost
I just don’t know where we are
And that wasn’t a wreck
I just hugged them with my car


And I didn’t spill that drink
I was watering the floor
Don’t get mad at me
It’s not my fault that we’re indoors


If I believe them enough
They don’t count as lies
And probably by now,
You shouldn’t be surprised


It’s not that I’m dismissive
And it’s not that I don’t care
And I promise there’s a heart hiding somewhere in there
But at least it’s something
At least it’s entertaining
Doesn’t have to make any sense to you
Know you don’t get what I’m gaining
It’s not going to change
That’s not what you want to hear
But you have to admit
You’d be bored if I wasn’t here


And I didn’t flip that guy off
I was stretching my finger
I get so bored on stage
Wish I wasn’t just a singer


I could say I didn’t mean to
But I don’t deal in lies
Only simple delusions
And bullshit alibis


And then it’s just the other part again so I’m not going to waste your time making you read it again.

Happy Monday and stuff.

The Actual Lesbian Smells Like a Dog

AL: So, this is the compliment I received from my lady friend on Friday: “You smell better than my dog.” The only response I could come up with was – uncontrollable laughter.

Anna: Had she just washed her dog?

AL: I’m not sure. I didn’t smell her.

Anna: I think that’s probably the next course of action you should take. We’re going to need some sort of basis for your smell level.

AL: Well, I was wearing perfume and deodorant.

Anna: At the same time?

AL: Yes at the same time. “Clinical strength”.

Anna: Clinical strength perfume? They make that? If they do, why have I been febreezing old people and fat kids?

At Least My Statuses Aren’t About What I Ate For Breakfast


Turns out that putting the show “Switched at Birth” on for background noise is a bad idea. Half of the people speak sign language so you miss a lot of what’s going on. I figured there were just a lot of long, awkward pauses. My bad.


I don’t like going to the Olive Garden because if I go there and don’t eat a ton of food I feel like a failure.


Today is the first day of the rest of this week.


Last night I went out to dinner with a friend and he was swearing like a sailor. I told him to quit it. I mean, fuck, there were the kids around… then I realized that the “little girl” sitting behind me was actually just a short lady with a bad haircut… and that it was 8 o’clock on a Monday night and I was probably the youngest person there.


Site fan page

… the kind of confused that happens when a naked man that you don’t know runs past you and slaps you in the face and doesn’t even say hello.


I just passed a drug test. What have YOU done lately.


**Giveaway** The first person to post on this status gets an empty beer can. You’re welcome.


I think being a janitor would be a good workout. Especially if you take speed and do it really fast. (And no, I don’t know where to get drugs. I really wish I’d stop hearing that people assume that of me. I drink alcohol you fucking weirdos. It’s available at the LIQUOR STORE.)


Some person: Commercials wouldn’t lie to you.
Anna: Yeah they would.
Some person: No they wouldn’t. I read it on the internet.


I feel like if the world ended today, I’d be ok with that… mostly because I don’t want to make my car payment.


I wonder how far the signal for those life alert buttons goes. I’m thinking it’s a good idea for people who tend to get lost when they’re drunk.



Just once, I would like Oprah to admit that the secret of her success is the fact that she’s the 2nd coming of Jesus.


Sometimes I regret being mean. Other times, I regret not having the ability to punch people via text message.


Fun Fact: There isn’t a Santa Claus. There is, however, a guy named Ernest who likes to flash people in front of Walmart.


Dear new god daughter, thank you for not turning out ugly.


Was it lazy of me to just take things I’ve already said and compile them into one post? Yes. Am I lazy? Also, yes.

PS – It’s not that I don’t want to post things about what I eat in the morning… It’s just that I don’t know where fourth meal ends and breakfast begins.

and… if you want to be creepy and follow me around:

The douche colony known as Twitter

Add it to one of your other million “likes” (it boosts my ego, ok?)

Or you can be one of the tens of people to subscribe

The Actual Lesbian – To The Ghetto and Back

AL: Things I learned last night: I can’t shake my “thang” – I got lessons. Failed. Can’t do the stanky legg* – lesson failed, again. How to wear a hat like a G – success.

Anna: The what leg?

AL: I don’t know. It’s this weird “jello leg” dance. I can’t do it. I also can’t “pop it”. “Gurl it’s easy! Just do this…” What the fuck, Shaniqua, I can’t do that. My waist is not double jointed.

Anna: That sounds dangerous.

AL: It was.

Anna: Do you think maybe they were trying to initiate you into a gang? Because, I’m not Mark Wahlberg – I wouldn’t be able to save you from that shit.

AL: Could have been. I mean, I was pretty thugged out. The bouncer told me to adjust my hat.** It was a crash course in “hood”. I have been given permission to use the “n” word again. As long as it ends with “a” and not “er”.


*I had to google this one… and I’m glad I did… Oh dear God.

* *No idea how it is everywhere else – but here, if they think you look like you’re about to bust a cap, they’ll tell you to change up your shit or they won’t let you in certain bars/clubs… I have never had this problem. Nick Cannon looks thug next to me.

Dear 17 Year Old Anna

(I think it’s only right to say that I stole this idea)

Frankly, I don’t remember what you were like. Not because of alcohol induced memory loss; but because you really didn’t pay attention at that point. Seriously. It was THAT boring. (I think)

You will have gained enough confidence to sing in public.

Yeah, I said it.

And you will have gained enough confidence to write… online. Oh wait, that takes pretty much zero confidence… but at least you sang. And you will STILL be friends with the Actual Lesbian… because she will still be funny… although, you will lose touch with her sometime between graduation and your 24th birthday party.

Guess what else, you became a bar tender… sorry… turns out you suck at life (and don’t have enough patience to finish college, let alone law school)… but there is good news. You will still be fighting. You’ll still be sticking up for yourself and the people you love. You’ll quit your main bar tending job on account of your boss is being a dick to everyone. Don’t judge him too harshly; he lost himself for a minute and that happens. You’ll also have done this a number of times by now (quitting things and losing yourself).

And you’ll have just been broken up with by the “great white buffalo” (if you don’t understand what I mean, watch “Hot Tub Time Machine)… he is the one that got away… the guy you can laugh with uncontrollably and who is okay with the fact that you don’t do dishes. He will have been the love of your life and the person who will see how shitty you are and be in love with you anyway… and for once, you’ll sincerely be in stupid love too. Appreciate the time you have with him – It won’t be much – only 3 or 4 months. Also, remember to take your copy of The Neverending Story before you leave his house that morning.

I’m not going to tell you to save more money (sorry mom) or to live any differently. The stupid things you’ve done are the reason you’ve had some fucking sweet adventures and met a ton of great people.

You won’t necessarily be “successful” by your definition or anyone else’s. But you’ll understand that you’re still on your way to somewhere… and where ever that is, it’ll be amazing… because you’re talented and funny and brilliant… and all I remember of you is that you don’t know that yet.

Life’s Too Short To Drink Bad Wine

It’s also too short to drink toilet water.

But no one’s stitching that on a throw pillow.

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