I am not a happy person. I’ve never been. It doesn’t mean I’m suicidal or that I’m not satisfied with my life, I just don’t go around hand in hand with bunnies and want to give kisses and lollipops to babies and bald men, all the while spreading my message of peace, love, and “value-add”. People hate a downer. They hate that negative whiner that doesn’t do anything but bring people down. I guess if that really was me, then I wouldn’t have any friends at all and that I would probably live in a cave by myself because I wouldn’t be acceptable in society. But for some reason I’m still here, people still talk to me, and I actually have people who contact me and want to be my friend. What’s wrong with this picture? If that happens to me now, I wonder how many friends I would have if I were this puppy-sweating, kitten-crapping positive person. I would be president!
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I think I have the name of my new blog: puppy sweating and kitten crapping: how to become terminally ill with happiness.