Christian Overdose 

Just the other day, my brother overdosed and somehow convinced my parents that he has epilepsy.

 I know what you’re thinking– impossible. How? Why? Are you being serious? 

I’m here to tell you that I am. My brother snorted pills for 72 hours straight and it finally caught up with him. Oh, and he somehow lived to tell about it. Way to go, bro!  

My parents went to the grocery store and when they came home they found one of my brother’s friends screaming that my brother had died. 

My parents, being the Bible toting Christians that they are, ran right to his rescue. They called 911 and attempted to get his pulse back. 911 arrived just as my brother started convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Nevertheless, my sweet, innocent, charming brother was able to muster up enough strength to become disorderly with the first responders because he didn’t like them touching his drugs. Ladies and gentlemen, there’s no shame in his game! 

My brother goes into back to back seizures and yet his friend swears that he knew nothing about the drugs he took. The first responders tell my brother’s friend that my brother will die if he continues to withhold the truth, he remained silent. What an awesome friend! 

The first responders were able to pry a baggie of pills from my brother’s hand and use a smart phone app to see what he took. Yay technology! Luckily I’m not a first responder, I don’t know if I’d have been so quick to help people that didn’t want help. Keeping it real, y’all! 

He was then transported to the hospital. Once the doctors were able to bring him back to reality, my brother told my parents that he didn’t take any drugs and this was all a misunderstanding. Although there was concrete evidence to say otherwise, my parents have chosen to believe my brother. They are even taking him for additional testing to confirm an epilepsy diagnosis. What wonderful Christians! I’m looking forward to visiting never.

I’m surrounded by idiots. 


Blaire 💋💄


I threw myself a pity party.

I threw myself a pity party.

Last week I threw myself a pity party. I spent the entire week feeling sorry for myself. Poor Blaire has a sucky life. Poor Blaire is in a situation where a positive outcome is unlikely. Poor Blaire will have a bad birthday and Christmas. Poor little Blaire.

Today, I woke up. Today, I reality checked myself. Today, I realized that I am the author of my life and my life will have a happy ending despite it all. Sitting here feeling bad for myself sure isn’t helping my situation. In fact, it is making it worse. I don’t need to punish myself for situations beyond my control. I need to continue living a healthy life and worry less. I need to help where I can, but also remember to put myself first.

Yes, I served myself tequila at my pity party. It helped. It always does. 💚

My mind is set on happy,


Beautiful Facebook.

Facebook is the best thing ever invented. I, no joke, canceled my cable tv subscription because Facebook was filling all my drama desires indefinitely.

Luckily for me, I have a unique group of Facebook friends. Every single one of them providing me with a little something to get me through the workweek. There’s my religious family for starters. They love to throw out comments about the devilish ways the other family members are living. I contemplate deleting them on a regular basis, but can’t bring myself to actually give up my first row seat to the lashes they toss at one another.

Then we have our Facebook friends that just can’t put the party life behind them. No judgment, of course, I get it (way more than I should). I’m just saying, people should be more clever with their drunken Facebook posts. Screenshots are a thing now, didn’t you know? People like myself (that lack a real life) take screenshots of all wild posts for safe keeping. That way, when sobriety hits and you press delete I still have those memories. And who could forget our Facebook friends that do not recognize that Facebook isn’t Twitter. I do not need a play by play commentary of the football game that the world is watching on television. Do us all a favor and get a Twitter. As a fellow Facebook friend, I do not care what you thought about that fumble or the referee’s inability to make a worthwhile call.

Hands down though, my absolute favorite Facebook friends are my friends that use Facebook as a diary. I sit front row with a big bowl of popcorn (covered in salt) and spend hours reading each sappy, feeling-ridden post. By all means, call out your baby daddy for his wrongdoings, tell your boss what a moron he really is, and take it upon yourself to judge the way others are living. I can’t get enough. I’ve found myself bursting out laughing in my room alone on multiple occasions reading your Facebook diary. I thank you for that.

Facebook friends, keep being you. Don’t change, don’t edit your posts, and certainly don’t think twice before commenting on a status you feel passionate about.

You are the real winners,