My High School Friends Work for the Pentagon

I get a kick out of people that think I'm smart. I am in no way a smart person. I'm not fooling myself, and this is not me projecting any "lo self-esteem." Proof that I don't have lo self esteem: 1. Every post below 2. The fact that - as you can probably tell- I don't feel the need to proof anything before "publishing" and 3. I have a fucking blog. I am definitely okay with myself.

Compared to the people I went to high school with though, I am a groundling; a savage pauper that doesn't deserve a seat because they would just poop in it accidentally. Or get their tomatoes all over it. Compared to my friends, I am Smeigal.

One of my close friends, Nicolette Leung, works for the pentagon... tracking rainfall...on the roof?  And makes sure that the pentagon... doesn't get all wet? Because then Y2K would happen. That's my synopsis of your job, Nick!

But today is about Marisa Raether. Yes, she is The Glam Girl that posts on this website from time to time via her fictional website The Stinky Heel, or something like that. I know this will come as a shock to most of my (non existent) readers... But her posts are actually written by me. Ha HA! No, the real Marisa Raether has never written a word on this Blog of Blogs!!! All of her posts have been *post-humorously written. And for good reason.
She's... okay... I can do this.... She went from being a receptionist and in a few short years, the V.P. of the entire company... The company?  Oh, well.... okay... it's this company that runs all the electronic databases for the military's health information. So like, when a guy gets wounded in Afghanistan  and they need to pull up his medical records to make sure he's not allergic to penicillin or something... It's hard to pull up because like, they're in like a cave in Afghanistan.... and cave's only have ONE outlet (like everyone knows) .... so they gotta use some pretty good software that has to constantly be top-notch and cutting edge. So like, when the software isn't working, Marisa may be having a mai tai in Cancun, but she'll like  get a call from a General (no really, we've seen her say, "Uh, I have to take this call"... "Marisa, who's calling?"..."A General") who yells into the phone "Raether!! The software... the SOFTWARE!!!!" and she has to order people to fix it and manage and do other Vice President-y things.
 To simply her job, we all just say she's  in bed with the military industrial complex. 
Same diff.

And the amazing part of this tale, is that she was given no help from her parents, was the second oldest in a family of eight children, and she did it heeeeeerrrrr wayyy!!!!!!!

Now, good journalists usually, at this part of the essay (I'm going to start calling my blog posts essays. Sooo Leena Dunam), ties it back to the beginning  or somehow works themselves into it. And how does this make me feel? But I don't really need to do that. I don't have any way to relate Marisa or any of my friends' incredible triumphs to myself, except to say that I am constantly amazed by them. I could never do that shit. Nor get a 1600 on the SATs without studying just because... what, they're easy? My dumb friends!! God damn your simple logic!!! You take it for granted!!!

But because today is Marisa's birthday (maybe it was a couple days ago.. whaaa? I a ah don't know! I am ah stupid-o!)... and for all of your viewing pleasure, I present something she actually did write.
Enjoy:

*Marisa's favorite thing in the world is catching my many and colorful malapropisms (see essay titled "My High School Friends Work for the Pentagon"). Here's one for you, kid!