The Importance of Being Emily

When I started this blog it was merely to showcase my abundant talents, my incredible wealth of knowledge and connect with other people since no one in real life likes me and even my mother calls me a freakish wackadoodle. Of course, money was not at all a concern to me. (watch for my next Can You Make Money Blogging Post? Hint: I’ve made $20,000 this month alone. Which will be put aside so I can afford my own little extended cab pick up truck in which we will live.) I’ve shared my scrumptious recipes for gloodles and gummy hot pockets. I’ve illuminated my readers about the joys of tiny house living and how an unused laundry room can be a colorful, cluttered place of horrors for two small boys. I’ve explained how mattresses can kill people in an instant and shared the joys of pet ownership by exploring our unnatural relationship with kefir bacteria.

So I want to put this all together and post on what I think the recipe is for a happy life. I think my readers will be eternally grateful since most of them have empty and shallow lives and can only benefit from my genius.

Family

The most important part of life is family. I’m not talking about your parents or siblings. Obviously, if they are poor and have only half their teeth like Dan’s family, then they are a wonderful addition to your life. If they at all disapprove of your desire to lacto-ferment all your food until it is an unappetizing bit of sludge and letting your children play hide and seek in the fridge, then you’re better off cutting them out of your life. I know that my life has benefited from not talking to my mother and refusing all offers to give me access to my trust fund to buy clean sheets and mattresses for my children. She’s just a shallow, materialistic woman who doesn’t understand that living in squalor is part of our PLAN. She thinks that children need vegetables, doctors’ appointments and real toothpaste. She doesn’t approve of soap nuts, thinks Dan is a half-wit and believes that I’m throwing my life away. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I will show her. I will keep hoarding money and keep denying my family anything that gives them joy because I grew up with money and an occasional Twinkie and fresh oven-baked bread and it did not make me happy. The only thing that makes me happy is being in complete control of every aspect of my life, from blog comments to writing Dan’s blog to how many ½ ounces of spaghetti squash my husband and children are allowed to share. I am in control now, Mother. Me. Not you. You cannot dictate my life any longer. You cannot force me to go to the dentist, invest in medical insurance, clean my sheets, sweep, wash dishes, eat lean beef or fresh fruit. I can do it all on my own. Do you hear me? I know what’s important in life and it does not include vacations, relaxation or love. Get it? I’m in control now. Me! Me! Me!

Children

Obviously, any woman who has an empty, cobwebbed womb is a poor excuse for a woman and devoid of any sense of purpose or happiness. The only reason we exist, according to the Bible, is to be fruitful with our loins. Children validate our existence, give us purpose and remind us that our lives are not empty and without value. When you don’t have a real education, any critical thought skills, scant knowledge about anything but crockpotting, talent for writing, talent for cooking, talent for cleaning, career goals, ability to hold down a job other than cashier at a grocery store or any friends whatsoever because everyone thinks you’re a total fruitloop with a bad attitude and bad lemony-scented B.O., you can at least look at the product of your womb and know that you have accomplished something. Of course, once you have let them slide out of your woman cave onto crusty sheets stained from the last home birth, you needn’t really do anything like feed them well, supply them with warm beds and clean blankets, watch to make sure they’re not playing with the power tools hanging on the wall, take them outside, play with them or engage them in any meaningful way. Just having created them is enough to know that you have value as a human being and as a woman. I feel sorry for those women who choose career, their own goals and their full lives of friendship, cocktails, travel, good food, education and personal fulfillment over children. How empty and lonely their pathetic lives must be.

Love

I love my husband, Dna. He is brilliant, kind, funny and sweet. He works hard at his job and even harder at school, especially since he has trouble spelling, writing, reading comprehension and critical thought. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s just a lazy typer. And not matter how many times he begs me to assist him in phonics and spelling I must remind him that he is fine just the way he is. Many times he has tried to take an extension course in composition to improve his writing skills. Usually I can talk him out of it by refusing to cook him hot pockets or promising him if he stops talking crazy talk like that then I will make him homemade gloodle Cheetos in the crockpot. To love someone is to control every aspect of their lives and have them totally dependent on you so that you feel important and in charge. That way they can never leave you because you are in the driver’s seat. Since I handle all of the money, the cooking, the cleaning (well, the moving around of the existing filth), and working towards THE PLAN, I can let Dna focus on his janitorial career and his schoolwork. Though most of the time I just tell him to color in his Lil’ Jesus & Friends coloring book and I do his schoolwork, write his blog, update his Twitter account and screen his calls so no one from work or school can interrupt him by being friendly with him. That’s love.

Friends

Many people say that friends are an important part of life. I believe that’s true. Though I am very, very selective about my friends. I don’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as I do. I am only friends with people who understand my own unique and completely insane way of life. Only those who validate every choice I make are my friends. Any friend of mine must tell me repeatedly how wonderful I am, how everything I do is perfect and wonderful and original. I cannot and will not accept anyone criticizing anything I do or say. Because I am perfect. Perfect damn it. Therefore, the only people I’m friends with are my blog commenters who tell me that I’m great and terrific. I don’t know their names, what they do, what they think because the only thing that matters is what I think and feel. If you don’t like that then I’ll just delete your comments.

A PLAN

You must have a PLAN for your future. There’s no point in living in the here and now. That doesn’t matter. For the time being you can force your children to sleep on dusty, pee-stained blankets in the middle of winter. You can live on kefir water. You can stuff your children under cribs in a room the size of a Port-A-Potty. You can stack clutter and filth up the ceilings. Because you are saving and planning for your PLAN. It’s very important to capitalize PLAN because the future dictates everything you do and nothing else matters. You must eliminate anything that might get in the way of THE PLAN. We plan on living in a hole in the ground covered by a tarp, eating jars of lacto-fermented salsa and staying warm by making suits of cardboard and newspapers. The children will have little bunkers carved out of the hole and they will be happy covered with molding leaves for warmth. We will make sure to keep our satellite radio and internet connection because those are still important to our PLAN. What good is enjoying today if that enjoyment interferes with THE PLAN?

That’s my recipe for a happy life. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a bitter, spiteful, evil, and sad, pathetic bitch who deserves unhappiness and ruin. If you don’t agree and tell me I know you’re only trying to destroy me. But you cannot. I am invincible because I have God and Jesus on my side.