A few days ago Lotus asked me to guest post for her and my first reaction was, “Okay, as long as you don’t mind that I’m kind of a bitch and I go off on weird tangents sometimes and say lots of really offensive shit when the mood strikes me,” but then I remembered who I was talking to and realized that Lotus and I totally go together like Rama Lama Lama and Ka-Dingy-Da-Ding-Dee-Dong, or Shoo-Bop-Shoo-Wada-Wa and Yippidee-Boom-Dee-Boom.

And the more I thought about that the more I realized that Lotus and I are clearly long-lost twins who were tragically separated at birth, meaning that I must have been adopted and my parents have been lying to me my whole life.  So I called my mom and I was all, “How COULD you LIE to me like that and keep me apart from my twin sister that I haven’t known about for all this time?!?! That’s just so UNFAIR and CRUEL and WRONG!  I HATE YOU!”  And my mom was all, “You’re crazy, chica” and I was all “DON’T CALL ME CHICA YOU’RE NOT EVEN MEXICAN!” and she was all, “Calm down, psycho” and I was all, “YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MOTHER AND YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

And then she showed me my birth certificate (again) and I was all, “Well, okay.”

And THEN it occurred to me that Lotus is like 10 years younger than me so that whole twins-separated-at-birth theory really didn’t hold water to begin with.

I was a little embarrassed but it was just my mom, so whatever.

I guess I’m relieved that I never got around to calling the Adoption Board.

And now here I am and I should be writing something really deep and profound because this isn’t my blog and I should show some respect for the Lotus, but I’m completely fixated on the ad I just saw for Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve (with Ryan Seacrest) and I am beyond pissed off that Ryan Seacrest exists and is a celebrity and now he even has his name in parentheses on Dick Fucking Clark’s New Year’s Eve special.  That show’s been a staple of the Times Square celebration since TV was invented or something and now it’s being defaced by this meticulously manscaped douche bag, and we’re all just letting it happen.

I can’t believe the American viewing audience has become so complacent that we’ve allowed this person who’s obviously Evil incarnate to worm his way onto our television sets at all, much less giving him the keys to the Times Square Ball Drop.  Wasn’t 2008 bad enough?  Do we really need Evil to stick it to us one last time before we finally say Sayonara to this shitty year?

It’s apparent (to me, and evidently, ONLY me) that Ryan Seacrest is the first Horseman of the Apocalypse, with Mario Lopez obviously being Horseman #2, and Poverty is already here so Famine must be just around the corner.  And nobody’s doing anything about it, we’re all just sitting around drinking our cheap champagne (because no one can afford the good stuff anymore) and wearing our silly hats with our hands raised up in the air like we just don’t care, shouting “Wooooohoooo!” between hiccups and pretending to know the words to Auld Lang Syne and accidentally falling into the abnormally large potted plant at someone else’s house (not that I’ve ever done ANY of that) (but seriously, did that plant really have to be so BIG?) while Ryan and Mario exchange knowing glances and smug smiles because none of the normal people have realized yet that we’re all doomed to a life of shitty made-for-TV Lifetime movies and lame televised events with mediocre hosts in lame, not-funny-at-all-because-you’re-trying-too-hard slogan t-shirts.

This isn’t a very upbeat guest post, is it?

Well, I can’t help it.  The end is near.  Open your eyes, people.

Say I’m lame.  Say I suck.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Love,

P.S.  I really overused the word “obviously” here, didn’t I?  Huh.

P.P.S.  My apologies to Lotus for all of the above.  Obviously.

P.P.P.S. Happy New Year.

P.P.P.P.S. Does anybody actually know the words to Auld Lang Syne?

P.P.P.P.P.S.  The really sad thing is, this is like my eighth draft.
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When she’s not dutifully warning us all of the impending apocalypse, Bejewell is over at her website, The Bean. Hop over and find her going off on random tangents filled with fart jokes, rants, and a plethora of sarcastic bitchiness. What more could you ever hope for?