I’ve pretty much had only one goal in my life, and I achieved it pretty much exactly.

What that leaves me with is a lifetime of mindless living without goals.

Goals? I don’t haz* them.

Really. No goals.

Why? The only thing I can think of is that I don’t want to fail.

It goes along with the Lazy Perfectionist Theme to my life.

Why make a goal if it’s just going to fail and cause me strife and stress and depression and anxiety because I didn’t follow through?

No goals = No failure

The one and only set of very specific goals I can remember having was shorty after marrying my beloved (barf). I planned to get married, live a little married life having crazy young married sex anywhere we could and not have to schedule it because little people could walk in at any time, travel nowhere, buy a house, have a baby girl right away, then have another baby girl right away.

Goals? I achieved them.

Now? I don’t really know what should be sparkly lucky enough to catch my attention.

What else is there for me to set my sights upon?

The only specific goal I can think of: World Domination

Realistically?

Maybe just keeping a clean, organized home could be a goal.

For real, realistically?

I have absolutely NO idea other than to bathe at least every other day.

You can haz goals for me?

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(LOLspeak is stupid.)

After the dramas of yesterday’s Kevin Smith vs. Southwest Air post, I’m gonna be lazy take it easy with today’s.

Jenny, The Bloggess, posted today about being an asshole, but being a good kind of asshole. It’s a must-read about women and drama and conferences and social media. Basically, don’t be an asshole. Be an **asshole**.

I left a comment I couldn’t pass up posting, because really, it sums me up better than any other tagline I’ve created for myself.

I try to be the nice kind of asshole; the kind that allows the poo to pass and leave me unscathed.

I’ve hesitated to write this post for the last few days. I’m afraid of the backlash I’ll receive once you read through and realize how much I really don’t need your sympathy.

I’ve gone nearly 3 years without doing something, and now, it will be my responsibility.

I don’t like new responsibility.

I don’t like most responsibility.

Because I don’t like responsibility, I used the powers of The Secret and the goodness in Oprah’s heart to bring someone into my life.
Dudes. It totally works.

I put it out to the universe, my plan for what I needed.
I was specific.
I was focused.
I was forthright.
I was determined.
Just like Mama Oprah told me to do.

I had my eye on the prize.

A housekeeper.

Oh. Yes. Someone other than me to clean my toilets.

I put it out to the world and every single person I talked to that I needed a housekeeper.

I found her; she found me: the sister to a new friend of mine from my girl’s preschool.

She was perfect. She came every other weekend at first to clean the icky stuff, then she started coming every week and cleaned nearly everything. Out of my generosity (and fear that she’d leave), I paid her too much, let her come whenever she could on the weekends, and helped her out of bad situations.

It was a good 3 years.

Now, she’s not coming back.

Apparently, spending time with her son is more important than cleaning my toilets.

I’m totally feeling sorry for myself so you don’t have to.