Speak It Into Existence!

by H. P. Mallory

  SPEAK IT INTO EXISTENCE!

  Tongue-In-Cheek

  Affirmations For The Modern Woman

  H.P. MALLORY

  Speak It Into Existence!

  by

  H.P. Mallory

  Copyright © 2017 by H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ALSO BY HP MALLORY:

  THE JOLIE WILKINS SERIES: (New York Times Bestselling Series)

  Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

  Toil and Trouble

  Be Witched (Novella)

  Witchful Thinking

  The Witch Is Back

  Something Witchy This Way Comes

  THE BRYN AND SINJIN SERIES: (Spinoff to the Jolie Wilkins Series)

  Sinjin

  The Scent

  The Gentleman

  THE DULCIE O’NEIL SERIES:

  To Kill A Warlock

  A Tale Of Two Goblins

  Great Hexpectations

  Wuthering Frights

  Malice In Wonderland

  For Whom The Spell Tolls

  Eleven Snipers Sniping (Short Story)

  A Midsummer Night’s Scream

  Grave New World

  THE LILY HARPER SERIES:

  Better Off Dead

  The Underground City

  To Hell And Back

  Persephone

  The Bladesmith (Novella)

  THE PEYTON CLARK SERIES:

  Ghouls Rush In

  Once Haunted, Twice Shy

  Big Easy Murder (Novella)

  THE ICE WOLF SERIES:

  Ice Wolf (co-authored with JR RAIN)

  Acnowledgements:

  To Len for always being there for me and for helping to make this book just a little bit funnier.

  I love you.

  To my great friend, JR Rain, for inspiring me to follow my own positive-minded journey. I’m sure this book wasn’t what you were expecting. Haha

  How to use this book

  Start by meditating for like twenty minutes to

  clear all the crap floating through your head. If you don’t know how to meditate, Google that shit.

  Next, repeat each affirmation in a loud voice and really feel it. Pretend like the top of your head is

  trying to yell down to your toes.

  Think ALL CAPS voice.

  While you are repeating the affirmation,

  gaze at the picture of luscious maleness

  and go to your happy place.

  Then just live your life, the cleansed and

  positive way. And watch as good shit starts

  happening for you.

  Think it. Speak it. Look at hot dudes.

  Then fucking live it.

  I’m ignoring all stage four clingers. Unless I want a stage four clinger, in which case, I’m accepting all applications.

  I am grateful for Monistat.

  All eligible men who come into contact with me will find themselves nursing a raging third leg….

  Dear Universe,

  please promise me these affirmations

  work. Prove it by sending me a grilled cheese sandwich.

  I’m ambitchous—soon to be a full-scale, fabulous, and unapologetic bitch.

  I’m controlling my Carpal Tinder Syndrome by refraining from swiping left so much.

  I am grateful for toasters.

  And toaster ovens.

  I’m avoiding all closet psychos.

  Actually they might fit nicely in my closet,

  next to the skeletons.

  Everyone is in open admiration of dat ass.

  As for exercise, I’m no longer a victim of runner’s block.

  Instead, I shall sit and wait patiently until the desire to exercise goes away.

  I am grateful for Raid.

  I’m so divine, I will stab all men’s hearts like the slay mama that I am.

  I’m unapologetically placing all goobers, scrubs and dumbasses in the acquaintance zone.

  I don’t give a shit.

  Dear Universe, please make Mr. Clean real and also, please make him my husband.

  I am grateful for David Blaine.

  Criss Angel, not so much.

  I’m overcoming my attention deficit dating disorder.

  I’m permanently delazifying myself.

  By getting off the couch to retrieve

  the ice cream.

  I’m getting the number of the guy at Starbucks who gives me girl wood whenever he makes my Grande Green Tea Crème Frappuccino® Blended Crème.

  With soy milk.

  I’m avoiding all Splenda Daddies.

  I am grateful for public sanitation.

  I’m no longer a common law girlfriend.

  Now I’m insisting on the actual title.

  I’m not my morning breath.

  Chicks before dicks.

  I am grateful for Thomas Edison.

  He did wonders for my vanity lighting.

  I’m avoiding lip-banging men while I’m drunk and suffering from bad decision making.

  I’m putting on my positive pants.

  So I can get into his positive pants.

  I am grateful for opiates.

  I am no longer anyone’s smash buddy.

  Naysayers can go smash themselves.

  Dear Universe,

  please bring me a man who will take

  me to Medieval Times so we can watch knights jest while eating chicken with

  our fingers and, ultimately, get our grease on.

  I am grateful for the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

  I’m keeping my chin up so my crown doesn’t fall off.

  If life gives me lemons, I’ll stuff them inside

  my bra and prance around like

  they’re really mine.

  I am grateful for all-you-can-eat buffets.

  I’m getting my happy on.

  And then I’m getting his happy off.

  I still don’t give a shit.

  Shapeshifters are real.

  Or maybe he just got carried away

  taking his clothes off.

  I got fucking mauled by the awesome stick.

  I am grateful for toilet seat covers.

  I’m avoiding all booty-hanging shorts.

  Why? Cause I got class.

  No one can dull this sparkle.

  Not a fucking chance.

  I’m no longer blaming myself for losing my virginity to that guy.

  I am grateful for erotic tickling.

  Dear Universe, please make me more like Judge Judy.

  I’m Jedi fabulous!

  I’m no longer lamenting the disastrophe that is my sex life.

  I am grateful for The Rabbit, intimate massager.

  Foreskin isn’t as gross as I think it is.

  Gah!

  Yes, I fucking can.

  And I will.

  All fucking day.

  I am grateful for Adderall.

  I ain’t got 99 problems.

  But if I did, the dick definitelyr />
  wouldn’t be one of them.

  It’s okay that I’m secretly turned on by centaurs.

  I’m trying harder to subdue my menstrual fucking rage.

  I am grateful for condiments.

  I am F.I.N.E

  Fine.

  Dear Universe, please bring me a man with sculpted abs and an ass so tight, I could bounce a ball on it.

  I’m ignoring my fascination with

  spontaneous human combustion.

  It doesn’t make for very good dinner conversation.

  I am grateful for Marie Callendar’s cornbread.

  I’m no longer pretending to care and, instead, I’m telling people I really don’t.

  From now on, I’m only getting high three

  times a day.

  And all day Sunday.

  I’m going to master Reverse Cowgirl so I stop getting bucked off.

  I am grateful for Lifetime movies.

  I’m donating half of my decorative pillow collection to the Goodwill.

  I forgive myself for continuously letting everyone down.

  I am grateful for cheese.

  Especially the type that was aged

  in a cave and smells like something

  crawled up my ass and died.

  Ghosts are real.

  And really horny.

  The one in my house comes to

  me late at night to get his ectoplasm on.

  I’m driven by PFM.

  Pure. Fucking. Magic.

  During sex, I’m no longer going to think about balancing my checkbook.

  I am grateful for M. Night Shyamalan. Except for that movie where everyone was running around in the woods.

  Yeah, that was lame.

  Dear Universe, please bring me truckloads of money.

  Yes, truckloads.

  I’m aces with me.

  I’m getting off Santa’s naughty list.

  He didn’t pay me enough to stay on it.

  I am grateful for Beano.

  Nope, still don’t give a shit.

  I’m telling all hairy mofos to

  weedwhack that shit.

  I’m no longer giving in to my constant need for validation…

  Right?

  Childhood beauty pageants didn’t ruin my life.

  I am grateful for the Thug Life.

  I’m positive like the proton, baby.

  It’s okay to tell people to shut the fuck up.

  Try it. Daily. You’re welcome.

  I am grateful for breakfast burritos.

  I’m overcoming my daddy issues.

  I’m no longer passive and, instead, I choose to be aggressive.

  I am grateful for Orlando Bloom.

  Dear Universe,

  please send me a man who hates cuddling as much as I do.

  I’m beating my addiction to cute puppy videos on YouTube.

  Only kitten ones now.

  I am grateful for time travel.

  I’m no longer living a life of quiet desperation.

  It’s okay to like Justin Bieber.

  It’s okay to be a Belieber.

  I am grateful for anal beads.

  Revenge fucking is not a sport.

  And the pay sucks.

  I’m no longer lamenting the disastrophe that is my relationship status.

  A pirate’s life for me.

  I am grateful for AA meetings.

  I’m no longer making poor life choices.

  There aren’t any left to make.

  Today, I’m going to fucking find Waldo.

  Dear Universe,

  please send me a Latin lover who will teach me the joys of the forbidden dance.

  I am grateful for Mason jars.

  I’m no longer micro-dosing mushrooms to address my crippling social anxiety.

  I’m more interesting than my Powerpoint presentations.

  No one puts ___________ in the corner.

  I am grateful for bagpipes.

  I forgive myself for not being popular, smart, good at sports and for not fitting in anywhere.

  I, too, can someday be awesome at sex. Practice makes perfect.

  I am grateful for robots.

  I’m no longer complaining like a little bitch.

  It’s okay to still like Jell-O, despite Bill Cosby. Just hold the Quaaludes.

  I didn’t choose the gangsta life.

  I came down with the gangsta life

  and now I can’t get rid of it.

  I am grateful for antibiotics.

  Dear Universe,

  please send me a manservant wearing nothing but a banana hammock and a smile.

  Sometimes one must accept the ugly, disfigured hand when it’s offered, lest one fall down the side of a building.

  I am grateful for anything free.

  I’m no longer interested in Taylor Swift’s relationship status.

  It’s okay to drink alone.

  Just don’t tell anyone whenever you do.

  I’m no longer spinning my web of lies and, instead, I accept that I’m ordinary, just like everyone else.

  Except for that time I faced off with a wizard…

  I am mastering the art of seduction.

  Even if it fucking kills me.

  I am grateful for tampons.

  I’m no longer dating men who don’t reciprocate oral sex.

  I am limiting selfies to just ten a day.

  Fifteen if you count those taken with the narcistick.

  I am grateful for all men in uniform.

  I’m not ashamed of my fantasies about Robocop.

  I know everyone has them.

  I forgive myself for all the meaningless sex

  I’ve had.

  I’m sure it meant something to them.

  I am grateful for Bed, Bath and Beyond Coupons.

  Dear Universe,

  please show me a way to earn money from home while never leaving my bed.

  Something other than webcam porn.

  I’m bomb dot com.

  Shit the fuck, yeah.

  I am grateful for Bear Grylls, especially when he eats nasty shit.

  I’m becoming a force to reckon with in Ping Pong.

  I’m fancier than a can of fucking Fancy Feast.

  Bitches gonna hate.

  Let ‘em hate ‘cause bitches ain’t payin’ my bills.

  I am grateful for UPS packages.

  And, ahem, other sorts of packages…

  Behold my field of fucks and thou shall find ’tis barren.

  I’m no longer going to dry heave every time I pick up one of my cat’s hairballs.

  I’m trying harder than the Little Engine That Fucking Could.

  I am grateful Dyson vacuum cleaners.

  I’m no longer spending money on stupid shit that doesn’t make me happier.