The End of Retrobruxist Fridays

It’s been a terrible day. In fact, it’s been a terrible week.

So I did what anyone would do: I googled ‘Amy Scott mugshots’ and reveled for a moment in the notion that, as bad as shit is right now, at least I’m not one of those Amy Scotts.

amy-scott
Girl, I’d call yours a *smug*shot. <high-five>
Amy-Scott-mugshot-26907800.400x800
Dying to know what her shirt says… If it weren’t for WHAT, then WHAT?!
AS mugshot 1
OH LORD JESUS.

I started Retrobruxist Friday a year ago, and now I’m done. This was fun, but I don’t think I have more than one good post per week in the archives, so.

This last round is all good ones though:

Three years ago, I wrote a letter to my grandma, one heck of a woman.

Two years ago, I learned in a very difficult way exactly what fight-or-flight meant.

One year ago, I got mostly naked on the internet.

What you might have missed on Fat CrossFitter: I wrote what I thought was a funny story about how I became a stark-raving-mad, premenstrual mess who made histrionic mountain insults out of perfectly reasonable, helpful, and well-intentioned molehill comments, but it got interpreted by people I care about in a whole nother way, so I took down the post.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t write about people anymore—not my students because I’ll get fired, or people I know because I might hurt their feelings, or online dating prospects because I’m never putting myself through that bullshit again. So I think we all know what that means.

I should probably get another foster dog.

Comparatively (and by that I mean, at least we’re not in prison) happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

462 thoughts on “The End of Retrobruxist Fridays”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *