I didn’t actually think I would do anything profound with my blogging. I thought it would be a hopeless attempt at blurting out feelings I couldn’t share with people, usually because said feelings consist of things like babies, my fat ass, copious amounts of laundry and doomsday preparedness tactics. Recently I had a friend read my blog, who I will introduce at a later time, say some really nice things about it. Words like “transcendental, brilliant, I’m going to publish it wether you like it or not…” and it made me nervous. Now I feel like I have to write things that are going to make people laugh until they piss themselves and fall in love with me, hunt me down and keep me in their back yard locked in a cage for the rest of my life.
The problem here is, now that I have shared my blog with more people than I thought I would, I’m finding it hard to be honest. Let’s face it, my life is honestly pretty outrageous. However, my censored life is boring. I just can’t bring myself to really share the nitty gritty details of all the embarrassing, over the top, drugged out musings of my day to day life. If I did I’m pretty sure I’d never be allowed to operate heavy machinery or babysit children anymore.
So, I’m going to try to find a middle ground. A way to express the hilarity that ensues, without giving away the fact that I might be crazy.
Side note: yesterday I had my first lesbian crush. Don’t get me wrong, I know some beautiful ladies in my life and I would do all of them… but this one takes the cake.
I told Lou that if I die he is to marry a woman with three qualities. 1- she has to be over 150 lbs. 2- she has to be fertile. 3- she has to be smart. Not “Oh I got my degree in Communications” smart, but “I’m working on my dissertation right now. It’s based on the feminist critique of Faulkner’s characterization in Go Down Moses” kind of smart.
Well, I found his replacement wife. She’s perfect, the right size, the kind of brilliance I wish I had (i.e. when she speaks in class everyone, including the gay professor, stares at her and a little spittle pools up on their bottom lip). However, I do not know if she is fertile. I’m considering asking her if she has normal cycles, but I think that’s going a little too far.
Anywho, today is my long day. Which means I have to hangout with Dr. Greybush all morning and then watch two movies in crowded rooms with people who smell like feet and coffee. College students are really disgusting, myself included. The first movie will probably be another documentary with no words about people from all over the world doing boring shit, the second will most definitely be about a woman who is molested and becomes a psychopath. Might not sound bad to you, but for me its like a nightmare. I spend most of my Thursday’s making sure I know how long it will take me to get to a bathroom and how many people I have to jump over or weave through to get there. I mean, I like movies, I do, I swear. It’s just… being forced to watch them while sitting in a room of sweaty 20 somethings (and the occasional 40-60 year old wanting to really engage their brains after being a SAHM, yelling at kids and wiping asses for the past 20 years), is not my idea of an easy going movie experience. The seats are hard, my ass goes numb, my numb pinky starts acting up and then I’m pretty sure I’m dying and all hell breaks loose (in my head of course). Mentally I am stripping naked, running around screaming like a feral cat and begging someone to call an ambulance. Physically I am sitting there, dripping sweat, searching my bag discretely for a Xanax or two. Which is never really a discrete thing because those pills sure know how to spill all over my purse or fall on the floor or sound like I have a fucking rain stick in my purse. Now, I’m pretty sure the 150 people in the auditorium know that I am consistently one pill away from going all Britney Spears with an umbrella and shaved head on their asses.
Long story short, Thursdays make me a little nervous.