Little Thoughts of Me

In honor of my 100th post, I shall inform all of you Lovelys of the intimate details and secrets that make me….ME. Not all of them, of course, but a few that I have not yet mentioned.

1. I am a pathological liar.

I believe I acquired this habit as a survival tool while I still lived at home. If I had told my dad exactly what I was thinking in my teen years, chances are that instead of being here to entertain you all with my blogginess, I would have been beaten extensively, drowned in a vat of Holy Water, and buried under a mountain so that my filthy sin-ridden spirit could never haunt good Christians again. I am trying desperately to recalibrate my brain so that I don’t lie anymore. I’ve amended it enough that I at least tell the truth in my blog. And to clear things up, I never told a lie that would bring anyone harm; instead, I told whoppers that I never thought anyone would believe, yet did. This makes me think if I ever had the chance, I would definitely win an Oscar for my acting; it also makes me one humdinger of a poker player.

2. I find women infinitely more attractive than men.

If men didn’t have hairy arms, if they didn’t fart, if they smelled of flowers; if they had nice hair, could wear makeup, had no schlong, and had boobies- they would be just as attractive as women. Of course, sex with them wouldn’t be QUITE as fun.

3. I use a handful of dryer sheets in each load of laundry.

My Rockstar seems to have issues with this. I, however, have issues with clothes that just came out of the dryer, yet smell like they haven’t been in the washer yet. While folding on Laundry Day, there DOES tend to be escapee Snuggle sheets floating around though…

4. I think I would make a very good soldier.

Despite the fact that I hate to exercise, if I was to join the military, I would join the Marines, just to see if I could do the basic training. And I WOULD do it. I am much too stubborn NOT to do the tasks that have been set before me. Sadly, I doubt the Marines or any other branch of our lovely Armed Forces would want me if they did a psych evalution on me.

5. I once kissed my ex-husband’s brother.

In my defense, I did NOT initiate said kiss. I had been passed out and he awoke me by sticking his tongue down my throat. We were both drunk, and I thought it was my hubby at first. When I realized who it was, I pushed him away, and got pissed at his shit-eating grin. I told my hubby about it later and he didn’t believe me. Go figure. I tell the truth and no one believes me.

6. My ex-brother-in-law once tried to initiate a three-some.

Not the same man as afore-mentioned. I went out drinking with my ex-hubby’s sister and her man. When we arrived back at their house in a drunken stupor, my sis-in-law proceeded to vomit profusely into a bucket and then pass out in the bed I was assigned to. I lay down next to her intent on falling asleep, but was rudely interrupted by her guy’s tumescent boner being poked at me in a quite-unwelcome manner. I pushed him off the bed and ended up sleeping on the living room floor.

7. I dream every day of living anywhere other than Minnesota.

I believe I am descended from Gypsies.

8. I used to entertain myself on my Uncle’s farm in the days of my youth by throwing huge boulders onto partially-dried cowpies.

If you’ve never felt the thrill of watching cow shit erupt in a greenish burst of grossness, I suggest you try it.

9. I used to have a crush on the man who played Willow in the movie Willow.

Yes, he is a little person. In my defense, we were the same height when I had a crush on him.

10. If I lived alone, my house would be a complete pig sty.

I would like to say this isn’t true, but if it weren’t for my Rockstar, my house would resemble the really gross places on Hoarders. I detest housework. Oddly enough, at any place where I’ve worked, I am extremely picky about cleanliness. I do  not understand this.

11. I own roughly 2,500 books.

Not nearly enough.

12. I crave affection.

I would seriously hug every new person I meet, every time I see them. I also wouldn’t mind holding their hand- if anyone feels that they wish to be my Personal Snuggle Bunny, come on over to my house. I realize this is a bit creepy.

13. I desperately want kids of my own, yet at the same time, the thought of having my own kids makes me cringe at the responisibility that would come with it.

 

P.S. One more thing I will include, though I had to do it in a P.S.- you will see why. I am OCD about even numbers. I hate them, and I won’t make a list that ends in one.

November the 1st

Happy November, my Lovelys! I have decided that this day shall hereafter be proclaimed a worldwide Sparklebumps holiday, along with the day after Thanksgiving, the Saturday before Halloween, and my birthday. Today shall be called Half-Off Candy Day. Yes, I no longer shall feel bitter about the diminutive bowl of candy that my Rockstar nefariously stole from me, AFTER I stole it from his work party, because I have just come from the Aisles of Target, where all Halloween candy has been marked down for my convenience.

I was going to attempt a trip to Walmart, since their Aisle of Candy dwarfs any other retail store’s, but I was not fully prepared to have my eyes assaulted by Walmartians today. So off to Target I went, where customers of every ilk were zooming the Halloween aisles, preparing for next year’s Monster Bashes. I weasled my way through carts with squalling babes, and old women sorting through the pumpkin-shaped cookie cutters, to procure exactly 7 bags of the best and most saliva-inducing treats. I realized that I should have gotten a cart, or at least one of those annoying little basket things that weigh a ton after you have placed one item in them.

I was slightly flustered by the Halloween Edition Barbie that my eyes beheld, as the box she was in proclaimed “HALLOWEEN TREAT! BARBIE”. I looked closer and saw no candy included with Barb; the only “treat” I could almost see was the one that was beneath her disturbingly short puff skirt- this is a time when I am gladdened that Barbie is not quite anatomically correct. However, I feel that they should have placed Barbie’s treat in the Man Aisle, because any woman who would buy for her kid a Barbie that was dressed to turn tricks should be shot.

Anyhoo, as I made my way to the front of the store, with my arms laden down with my sugary loot, I noticed people staring. I’m not sure if it was my greasy hair that I didn’t have time to wash before going to town, or the fact that I was carrying enough candy to feed Australia. But I raised my chin up in an act of defiance at their judgemental stares, and proceeded to the checkout, where I received the same look from the girl behind the counter. I said, “What? I like candy. And this is just enough for me. If I had to share, there would be more.”

P.S. My Rockstar has let me know that he does not wish to know the amount of candy I bought.

Death of a Follower

I was saddened to see when I logged into my account this morning that I have one less follower than I did yesterday. The only reason I can come up with is that this individual died, because why else would anyone reject me? To that person’s family, I am sorry for your loss. I am sorry for my loss too. 😦