It’s been months. Or just a month. Month and a half, tops. Or maybe two months? A lot of things are happening. My son is in TBall (and has become a 4 year old baseball prodigy). We got a cat and named her Nora. We have only had her for a week, but I am pretty certain she’s pregnant. Which is awesome. And by awesome I mean no, it is fucking terrible. What in the FUCK am I going to do with 2-6 kittens?
I also had a miscarriage. I’m totally fine. I wasn’t trying so it came as a really big scary shock. And then it ended. I felt weird at first, but now I am fine. Things happen for a reason. Why? I don’t know. But I’m never having sex again. I feel a little bad that I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t happy or anything, but I definitely wasn’t sad. Is that OK? I guess it’s because it wasn’t anything I was aiming for. I am rambling now.
Can I get some motivation to keep up with this blog? It feels good to talk. Even if its to the black abyss of the Internet.
First, let me apologize for whatever typos may occur as I am posting this from my cellular device. I am no where near a computer, but I really had to get this dream I had out of my head and onto the internet where all weird and disturbing things belong. Like my dream. Because it was fucking horrible.
Short and simple:
My hair was falling out in large amounts, and in its place grew huge chunks of crab/lobster meat. The meat of crustations growing from my scalp. I would peel it off painlessly, and it would bleed, scab over, then immediately grow more meat.
In my dream I was freaking out because I was supposed to go on vacation. You know, never mind THERE IS LOBSTER MEAT GROWING FROM MY HEAD. How could I possibly enjoy the tropics with an ugly crustatious head.
I googled it. Google told me to pies off, freak.
In addition to being strange and making up fake office Holiday party stories, I am also normal and enjoy normal American pass-times such as football and eating fried things. Also, telling people awkward stories that are actually true.
I am an awkward woman socially. My social skills are actually OK, once we get past the one awkward situation that happens, ALWAYS, when I am with people I just met or people that I don’t know (in the store, for instance.) These awkward happenings are usually in some way terrifying or detrimental to those around me, and they pretty much destroy any kind of good first impression vibe they’re getting from me. If we meet and you have unusual humor or you’re just as awkward as I am, we may become friends. If not, you’re just going to think I am a fucking idiot. Naturally, most people I know think I am a fucking idiot.
So the other day I’m at Wal-Mart buying personal lubrication. Buying KY jelly isn’t that big of a deal, right? I mean, we’re all adults here. I have an active sex life with my boyfriend, I may need help removing a ring from a swollen finger, whatever. But because I am paranoid and awkward, I truly believed that anyone who saw me in Wal-Mart purchasing the lube automatically assumed I was fixin’ to go home to take it up the tail pipe. Which maybe I was, does it really matter? YES IT DOES BECAUSE I AM A PRUDE. So to take the edge off of me thinking that everyone thought I was some kind of nympho butthole lover, I decided that I needed to purchase something else in addition to the lube. In retrospect, I now realize that buying three boxes of candy, two tubes of chapstick and a bottle of lube was probably slightly more awkward than just the lubrication itself, but whats done is done.
So I am in check out. All of the self check out lanes are conveniently not working, forcing me to basically tell the cashier lady with rotten teeth that I love getting railed in the brown eye. While moisturizing my lips and eating junior mints. So it is just about my turn for the keeper of the purchases to judge my shopping decisions when a sweet, very old, couple comes in line behind me placing their bag of red potatoes closely behind my items. At this point I am sweating bullets. These poor old people are probably already so disappointed in the way society has changed since they were my age, and now they have to witness a young 23 year old purchase an product that makes demoralizing her asshole easy and smooth.
The cashier lady places a hand on the bag of red potatoes and says, “Are these yours, too?”
I am thinking: Alright, woman. I know the candy and lube and the two tubes of chapstick is a weird combo, but potatoes, too? Fucking red potatoes?
As I type this, I realize that I was the only one at this point in the scenario feeling the perpetual burn of awkwardness, but at the time I was under the impression that all parties involved were completely mortified for my sake. So out of complete and utter awkward foggyness, loud and proud I blurt out “NOPE! JUST THE CANDY AND LUBE!!!” followed by a 30 second long string of very uncomfortable chuckles. It was then that my awkward feeling spilled over to the cashier lady and the old couple behind me who just wanted to buy some god damn red potatoes. The looks on their faces were a mixture of pity and horror. I felt like vomiting. I was thisclose to explaining to the patrons of Wal-Mart that the lube was not really for what they think it’s for, and I am just buying it because hey, you never know when you’ll need KY jelly. And junior mints. But I didn’t. I beelined to the door where the polite old man thanks me for shopping at Wal-Mart and all I can think is “OH, THAT’S JUST FABULOUS. This guy knows I like anal sex too!”
And now, here I am. Shamefully sitting at my desk eating junior mints.
Nothing is ever new anymore. No excitement. Nothing note worthy. I could go on writing about the lack of things to write about, or I could end it here.
This weekend, though. This weekend something will happen, and it will blow my mind and will cause perpetual excitement. And then I’ll write about it.