"Tact is for those who aren't witty enough to be sarcastic."

I have recently discovered that several people who are not fans of mine are following my blog. (I believe this is called “blogstalking”?) This has made me realize that my life and opinions must be so interesting that my enemies are even drawn to it! Fabulous! Even better, these people care to tell me just how unhappy they are about my writing topic choices! Fantastic! While I am not quite sure of their motivation (and truthfully, I just don’t care), I hope they know that all this does is make me feel like Lady GaGa getting stalked by the paparazzi.
Publicity reps will confidently admit that “there is no such thing as bad publicity!” and I believe this comfortably fits into that theory. I certainly don’t care what closed-minded-know-it-all people think of me, so all you are doing with your comments is feeding into my already beautifully inflated ego. So for that, me and my therapist stand, applaud and say, “Thank you!”
Finding out my newfound popularity with those not on Team Kami seemed to be the perfect junction to share with you one of my all time favorite hypotheses about life. (You’re on the edge of your seat now, aren’t you?) Here it is. I am a lot of things… sarcastic, witty, inappropriate, immature, silly and more than occasionally have a good solid buzz going on. But one thing I am not; breathtakingly beautiful. Sure, I do alright. But supermodel status, not so much. My husband thinks I’m hot and my kids aren’t embarrassed to be seen with me in public, and that is all I really need. Ready for the theory part of this surprising low-self-esteem rampage? Here goes! Stunningly attractive women cannot get away with the sarcasm, mockery and pretend egotistical nature that comes so easily to me. We all know what we call gorgeous women who are also wildly sarcastic, and I for one prefer not to be called that! (For any of you out there who consider yourselves beautiful AND perfectly sarcastic, I am sure this does not apply to you… thank you, let’s move on.)
I like to respectfully put friends into categories so that I know all kinds are being represented. One of my friends is known as the “nice one”, someone else as the “high maintenance one”, yet another as “the Zen one”. Me? I am happily and appropriately bequeathed the “fun one”. This is a lot to live up to, mind you. But no one does it with the zest and charisma I bring to the table.
So, let it be known that I appreciate my biological embryo makers for not bestowing upon me genes of exquisite beauty and poise! I would so much rather have all my facial features somewhat in the right places and have wit and humor on my side than to win beauty pageants where I have to be prim and proper all the time. Because it so isn’t me! (But I do still really, really want World Peace!)