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Little Miss

Do you remember the Mr. Men and Little Miss books from the 80s? I loved them! My mother would refer to me as Little Miss Bossy, Little Miss Trouble, Little Miss Stubborn, Little Miss Bad or Little Miss Naughty depending on my mood and behavior. Not once did she call me Little Miss Helpful, Little Miss Neat, Little Miss Sunshine or Little Miss Splendid.

I think it’s safe to assume my mom was calling me Little Miss Asshole, behind my back.

Since then, I’ve often describe my moods with the book characters. And now, for the first time ever, Little Miss Scatterbrain has surfaced. Bitch. Wait… did I just call the character a bitch or myself a bitch? Both are accurate, I suppose.

Lately I am so all over the place. Sure everyone is scattered now and then. How many of us misplace our keys on a daily basis? Me. And probably you. That’s normal and not at all what I’m dealing with. I’m forgetting important life details. Like how many eyes my puppy has.


I’ve been accidentally kenneling the wrong dog. The first few times I was convinced someone was breaking into my house and switching dogs just to fuck with me.

Because, seriously, the difference is obvious:

I’m hoping Little Miss Scatterbrain moves along soon. Otherwise I’m going to end up Little Miss Drinks Herself Into a Coma. That’s a character, right? Well it should be.


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