and other helpful hints for two struggling 4 year olds trying to make it in this crazy world.
jesus.
my head hurts.
I should just start posting all their "why?"s so y'all can feel my pain more accurately.
they even ask questions they know the answer to.
but mostly it's just questions that are so complex to answer that I need to take an aspirin before launching into my explanation--
but I never do.
which is why my head hurts.
heh.
had another fantastic workout today.
feels good.
I wish someone would offer me a challenge.
I don't care what kind, just something.
shake up my life.
I am drowning.
ok, that's probably a bit dramatic, but it's the closest i can get to how i feel.
blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
yeah, that's it.
I am hungry.
perhaps i'll be back to finish this off properly.
well, I'm back.
but I don't know about "properly".
and I don't know if what I just ate could constitute dinner.
I shouldn't even say what I had.
it will either sicken you, or enrage you, I promise.
so i feel better, but it probably won't last.
the good news is, I opted not to indulge in a bacardi silver thingy,
as a washer-downer for my so-called dinner.
of course...that makes me think of that show that was on MTV before I was cool enough to watch it.
no, I didn't say "old enough".
I was just super nerdy in high school---spent too much time studying/talking to friends/making out with super-cute boyfriend to watch much tv.
and i got up so damn early to "get ready" that I had to be in bed by 9 or I'd be at risk of still being awake when my alarm went off.
I cannot figure out what the bloody fucking HELL took me so long.
I seriously think I got up 2 god damn hours before the bus came.
and it came at 6:50, I believe.
(I'm convulsing at the memory, hold on...)
damn, but that's ridiculous.
it's been at least 10 years since I took more than 30 minutes to make it from bed to front door--including shower and "breakfast".
and, not surprisingly, I look better with the shortened routine.
I do NOT "get" high-maintenance girls.
I have never actually been friends with one, so it's even harder for me to comprehend what's inside them.
...but I have my suspicions.
I'm thinking acrylic nails and hairspray.
but seriously...
it's sort of a regional thing, I suppose.
and I certainly don't have anything against every woman who spends hours on her appearance...
I just don't understand it.
when I was in high school, and took that long to get ready?
at least half of that time was friggin church related--scripture study and prayers.
i know, i know.
hold your laughter, if you could, this is a serious subject.
and the other half was an insecure girl standing in front of her inadequate wardrobe trying to choose what to wear.
I was not primping and preening and applying layers of makeup and besides, I was in high school and I've changed, so IT DOESN'T COUNT.
ahem.
so, if any of you out there are proponents of women spending more time at the vanity, and not less?
let me know why.
cuz I don't get it.
whatever.
I needed something to write about.
I nearly pulled both hamstrings today,
so I hope I can walk tomorrow.
I had a wet t-shirt contest with myself earlier,
and I even took pictures.
not to be a tease, but...
I'm not posting them.
I shouldn't have mentioned it,
considering my new theme of "A blog as sexless as other people's marriages"
heh.
I'm such a bitch.
Not in real life, though.
I'm really nice in real life.
and silly.
and passionate.
and.
I really want to write about something besides ME.
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
MMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
me.
...but it's such a pretty word.
Me.
heh.
I could write about YOU, for a change.
I could write what I think of you,
or how often i think of you,
or how far down my pants I stick my hand when I think of you.
I could write about the way the light hits your hair and makes me catch my breath.
I could write about the way your laugh ignites something in me that reminds me how much I love you.
I could write about the last time I saw you, how you didn't know, and I didn't know--
until it was too late, and now there's one more regret for the books.
I could write about the way you broke my heart, and how it took me years to recover.
I could write about a journey I'll never take in this world, but have taken a hundred thousand times in my heart.
I could write about the way you looked at me, all those years ago, and how it made me feel...
I would love to write about your shoulders, how strong they are, and how perfectly made for bearing the weight of my kisses, along with the weight of the world.
I could write a hundred pages on the subject of your eyes.
I could write ten thousand pages on the subject of your body, and mine.
I would like to write about you, with the tenderness of a mother.
I can't imagine writing about you any other way.
that was an assortment of "you"s, for anyone who's confused.
but I'm not telling who each one is.
puh-leez.
well, if this post is too long for ya--
you can fuck right off.
and make it a good one,
it's Hump day, after all.
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