Welp, we’re almost there, folks. Soon enough we’ll all be able to put this bizarre and “tryin’-ass” year behind us. It has been a doozie for just about everyone I know, but we survived. I have been tested, I’ve met new limits, I’ve stopped myself from drop-kicking many morons and I have a new cat.
Alongside the shitty, I have had the honor to not only witness but also be a part of incredible movements. I walked with thousands as history was made and stuck a big middle finger up to everyone who tried to make me feel anything less than my worth.
I have never felt more inspired than I do now, surrounded by extraordinary, exceptionally badass women. I am extremely grateful to have honorable and intelligent men in my life as well. The kind of men who do not treat me differently because I’m a woman, but who stand by my side when I speak up. I have never been more proud to be a woman. I have never been met with so many challenges, especially with those who are devoid of logic. They live under their rock with confidence and Wi-Fi apparently.
I don’t want to spend our time here nitpicking at 2017. We know what it was and what it did. Harping on “why” is just going to take away the energy, the energy that is fueling an unstoppable train. I’m going full steam ahead and hauling ass in 2018. I feel a fire burning inside, but what’s even more thrilling is seeing the same fire burn in the exceptional humans around me. I was onboard, but now I’m waiting for my turn to shovel the coal into the furnace. I don’t know why I chose trains for this particular euphemism, but I’m going to roll with it. OK, I’ll stop.
Did I mention I’ve already checked-out of this year? Like, I care about what’s important but I don’t care about the other bullshit nearly as much. Well, I’m trying. It is only Day 3, but it feels good to take a fat chill pill down the gullet. I’m exhausted and I need the beast inside to hibernate a bit. So, I’m trying to sing in the car more. I don’t know. I just know I’m taking a breather. That’s the true meaning of the holiday season, isn’t it? Giving as little fucks as possible until the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve?
But I will make sure I take the time (during which I am not giving a fuck) to mentally-prepare to give the f’s when they need to be given, and not waste said fucks on morons who I once imagined drop-kicking. I would to bid you a farewell in 2017 with my version of one of the oldest and most popular Christmas poems ever, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” And by “my version,” I mean I shortened it and changed the words, but do the rhyme-y thing in your head when reading it please.
‘Twas the night before New Year’s, and all through the town
The drunk folks were slurrin’, “the prez is a clown”
The pot brownies were done, and eaten with care
In hopes that the giggles would soon be there
My cell phone is nestled, all snug in my breasts
Blasting old Taylor because we all know she’s dead
This year was a shit show, put as simply as that
It was nearly as painful as my annual PAP
But with the chaos, we fought for what mattered
And 2018, that ceiling will shatter
I yacked out the window, that made quite a splash
I must find new ways to spend all my cash
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
No wait. Nope. That’s still my vomit below
When, what to my lesbian eyes should appear
Bad bitches who slay, and eight giant rein-bears (I’m not sure what those are just yet; animators welcome to take that one on)
With a little old driver, so frail yet quick
Statistically speaking, he’ll whip out his dick
More arid than deserts, my hoo-ha became
The thought of him naked brought my eyes some pain
“Now listen, I probably should call an Uber!
“But first, I will, tell you that you, are SUPER!”
And I knew right away, my brownies took flight
Here is to next year, and to 2017 – BOI, BYE.
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