My name is Barbie Cummings.

I am The Thinker.

Which is to say I think. I think all the time. About all sorts of stuff:

Sometimes I think about how much I’ve had to drink the night before, especially when I’m hungover the following morning.

Sometimes I think I’m not normal. I struggle with this from time to time, cause society skull fucks me. Society skull fucks you, too…maybe you know it, maybe you don’t. But it’s one of the reasons you say hateful things about me even though you don’t know shit about who I really am.

Sometimes I think my pussy juice should be called “retard juice” cause once the boys get it on them, they act that way.

Sometimes I think about the pregnant girl I saw recently…the one wearing the Bud Light t-shirt that didn’t cover her tummy and I thought only in Tennessee.

I think about why I worry so much about…everything…like my future, and if I’ll ever amount to anything.

Sometimes I think I want to be a nurse. Or an accountant. Or a soccer mom. Or a whore. Or all of the above — and all at the same time!

Oh, I think about my future all the fucking time!

Sometimes I wonder why I’m so insecure about my looks when people tell me I’m beautiful.

I think a lot about Boozer and Fifi and how lucky I am to have them.

Sometimes I think about my perverted friend Billy Watson and how much I hate his singing while he’s driving me around LA.

I always think where did all my money go?

Sometimes I think about how much I like my burger centered perfectly on the bun.

I always think about how much I hate making decisions.

I think a lot about having a good time with my friends and meeting fun new people cause that’s how I roll.

Sometimes I think about all the narrow-minded, judgmental people who leave their stupid comments on my blog, and I think don’t you have anything better to do with your life?

Sometimes I think about my goofy family, and how much they drive me crazy.

And I always think about sex, cause I love every fucking minute of it.

My name is Barbie Cummings.

I am The Thinker.