Ouch! I tripped over a pile of garbage again. I suppose I should have seen it coming. My bedroom is less of a bedroom and more of apocalyptic hub of rubble. My one stained bra is buried underneath a mountain of crumpled high school book reports, rusty screwdrivers, and a bag of chips from 2006. My hairbrush is wedged between a Colgate toothpaste covered hand towel and a lone snow boot. My pillow (a pile of dirty clothes) is covered in what i can only hope is dijon mustard. Wait, why is there a nude barbie doll and deflated football underneath my broken Yamaha keyboard? And hmm, there’s some old cinnamon floss encrusted into a solid puddle of purple candle wax, and it’s the shape of a smile. Wait, is that a cat underneath those cheese covered blankets (towels, really)? Oh phew, just a pile of my hair. Anyway, I’m pretty sure a cat would die in here…
Ok, I have to get ready. And man, I can’t find clean underwear anywhere. My underwear drawer is, you guessed it, full of rainwater. Oh come on, I’m obviously kidding about that one. Did you seriously think I had an underwear DRAWER? That’s a laugh. Okay, I found some granny fruit of the looms underneath my radiator, wrapped around the second Titanic VHS tape (where they all die). Okay, I’m smelling them. Yep, these undies are dirty. But hey, only on one side, right? I’m turning these babies inside out! Officially clean in my book. Oh come on, who am i hurting? Really just myself.
Yes, I’m a woman drowning in squalor. Some might say, I am one with my filth. You’ve probably written me off as just another disgusting slob of a lady. And maybe you’re right. And that’s fine. Because according to science, I am a creative genius.
That’s right! You’ve seen the studies. Being disgustingly messy is scientifically linked to being highly creative and in fact, ingenious.
So go ahead, judge me! Because guess what?
I haven’t done laundry in weeks because I’m far too busy producing groundbreaking art round the clock. I don’t bathe because I have yet another web series to viciously churn out. I’d get to those dishes but I am in fact, a tortured artist, and my weathered hands are reserved for creating masterful content. Don’t worry about what kind of content I make. Just know that it literally flows out of me 24/7, and it is very good.
Ok, I really need to leave now. But, ouch! I tripped again, this time, over a mountain of my mother’s old nightgowns. Oh crap! I’ve landed in a metal bucket of rubber chickens i forgot I had. All right, I really need to get out of my room. But wait, how DID this slice of olive loaf find it’s way into my sweatshirt pocket? Oh gosh, who CARES??? This is so classic. Just another filthy day in the life of a creative genius, okay?