Are you there Allah? It's me, Goody.

We, the Goodies…

…sit here once again, pondering our existence and accomplishments to date.

…are once again, in a collective state of panic and discontent.

…are twenty-three, going on twenty-four, and unmarried.

…have discovered “pre”-spider veins, gray hairs, and the beginnings of smile wrinkles.

…anxiously await our bi-monthly stipends known as “paychecks”.

…anticipate the new episode of “Teen Mom” with a fervor once reserved for classic literature.

…refresh our facebook pages, whilst musing that “the internet has become boring and prolish”.

…binge eat, drink heavily, then complain of a sudden increase in weight.

…have no long-term plans for success, wealth, or fame, if it were ever once desired.

…are failures.

Ready the queers…

The tumblr of the Goodies hath been compromised.

Lysol Wipes and Fleas: The Goody Manifesto

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, in a wholely large state of depression.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, in a collective panic attack.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, pondering the four stages of coping.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, listening to melancholy sounds.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, envying the fact that Blanche DuBois is better off than we.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, contemplating the fact that it might be fleas that are currently attacking us.

We, the Goodies, sit here - as one, and lament.