selfie

I like football.
I watch every Sunday. I listen to ESPN radio and I have an ESPN app on my phone. I also like tennis and baseball and movies and music and NPR and clothes.
Fashion is fun and purchasing fashionable clothing at really low cost is practically orgasmic.
And my laptop KNOWS this about me.
According to it, Roger Federer and I are good friends. The Bears and the Bengals count on me.
It informs me of this quite often with little pop-ups enticing me and daring me to look and maybe purchase must-have items that declare my devotion and unique expression of love for my teams.

It also tells me that exotic Brazilians nearby want me and apparently my penis is too small but with a pill I could fix that.

I like looking at real estate in various areas of the country so now realtors in Seattle are convinced I'm ready to purchase my dream house in Washington and become a Seahawks fan. They enthusiastically call to see if I'm ready to make the move. While they text and call, ESPN is bombing my phone to make sure I understand Andy Dalton's thumb doesn't require surgery and the Bears moved four positions up in the power ranking this week.
Meanwhile, my good friend Seth Rogen keeps me updated on sweet bud and whatever asinine statement The Donald has made. But now I'm name dropping, so I'll stop.

Even Netflix has an opinion on what I like and should watch based on my viewing habits. I'm a fan of Nazis and the Holocaust in documentary form and Michael Scott and the clan and I do love Piper and the girls (OITNB) but I think my occasional viewing of a good Marriage Bootcamp or Keeping up with the Kardashian's confuses my technology.
It confuses me sometimes.
Based on information gleamed from the ether of the internet I'm a hot, wicked-tongued vixen haunting the web like a ghostly mix of Sarah Silverman, Amy Schumer and Hannah Logan (with a small penis.)
(Yes, I know that the Extenze email and pop-up comes from porn surfing. Porn is now mainstream entertainment and there are two kinds of people in the world: those who watch porn and dirty liars who say they don't.)
What technology doesn't know about me is that I'm a woman who loses sleep because I have no clue as to where my life may be going. I cry because I feel fat and ugly. I work at a pizza joint with a boss and customers who verbally abuse me yet I don't bring in enough cash to make ends meet.
I live in a town and go to a university that reminds me on a daily basis that I'm different.

I'm a ghetto-billy from the south side of Chicago. An outsider.

I do my best to remember I have a choice to react or not react to disparaging remarks.
I believe life is an experience, no judgment good or bad, just experience. And sometimes I do well living my belief and sometimes I hate everything and everybody. Sometimes I find the beauty in just being alive.
I like the fantastical life my laptop and phone and TV have decided I live. In many ways it's a design I'm creating of an ideal life I hope to someday live. It's a great escape.
Every night I get to snuggle in my bed and see myself reflected back to me through Instagram and Facebook and pop-ups that Hannah is a hot, sports-loving chick with cash living life like an OG.
AND if I had a penis, I sure as hell wouldn't need a pill. I know this because I had one in a dream once and it was all good.