Plastic Snacks

Nothing makes my mouth water quite the same as when I see a Barbie shoe. I hope I'm not alone in that. Because when I was an, apparently strange, little girl I would pop them into my mouth and chew on them until they got warm. But I'd spit them out though. Geez! I'm not a monster!

Boob-length hair

I've always had this dream of having boob-length hair. Not that I want to go around town inconspicuously topless, but I would certainly like to reserve the right to. 'Cause boob-length hair is good for so much! Hiding spill stains, playing make believe, old-timey japanese robberies, ...distracting attention from your smallish boobs. (YOUR smallish boobs!) Right now I'm nearly there, but it's still not good enough to keep me out of jail. I'm hoping that this time next year people will think twice before realizing, "That ain't no well-fitting brown shirt!" And that the makeshift mask I make with my hair as I run away will be convincing enough to protect my reputation.

Today, in [fake] news!

Headline: "Philippine government literally lifts lid on same sex marriage: Couples in holding await release"

Petrichor

Petrichor is the name for the smell of the ground after it rains. To me, "petrichor" sounds like the name of a dragon that flies into the clouds to create the rain. He'd be silvery white and let me ride on his back. Not in the clouds though, just around town because I'm scared of heights. But he'd know that because we'd be best friends. He'd look like this.

Lame chop

I decided to go as Lamb Chop for Halloween. But I spent the whole weekend silly-assing around and didn't have enough time to finish much more than these red mittens.  But I regret nothing, 'cause these are damn good red mittens.

I've narrowed my Halloween costume to two choices...

It's basically the same soup but different potatoes.

Maybe I shouldn't bug tech support with repeated emails...

I don't know what it means, but it sounds rude.

LA-centrism/shame

I went to Wisconsin to visit my sister this weekend. As we landed, I expected to only see the lights from the houses of the two families that alternate running the airport, but it was bustling. I was ashamed of myself.

Græy Hair

I saw my first græy hair when I was 25. I found it on the crown of my head and thought it was a errant thread (Note: add "Errant Thread" to my list of band names) from my sweater, so I pulled it out. Ever since, every couple of weeks I pull out græys because I haven't accepted what those wires say about my youth. But I've noticed these pulled hairs are starting to resist less and less. Like my head is dying! "Full House" drummed into me that pulling out græys was bad because two would grow in it's place. But I figure if it doubles the chance for me to feel sensation in my scalp again it's worth it.

Today, in [fake] news!

HEADLINE: "First Shadowman escapes crack in void. City evacuated."

Les Aventures de Twintwin

c'est incroyable! 

(And I don't mean the hair.)

I've become a man

Looks like I forgot our anniversary. According to my math[s] it has been a year and... 3 (4?) days since I started this blog. And I let this landmark event come and go without incident, and for that I feel awful. You deserve better than me. I never thought I'd be such a neglectful lover, but I let my personal life take all my time and forgot to treat you nice.


I made a lot of promises back then. Not "promises" I guess, but I said a lot of things I maybe didn't mean about what I planned to do with this blog and I feel like I only half delivered. I know that's a run-on sentence but hear me out. I'm real sore for what I've done. For like four months I posted at least once a day, but I'm acting like I don't care any more. I set a standard for myself when I started.  Let's see how I measure up:

     1. Not write anything that will make me less popular with my friends.

     Since I started this blog I've become a real bad-ass. F*ck friendship! I'm pals with the truth!

     2. Not to write anything ironically. (I'm only slightly serious and very naive. So don't read too much into what I may post/mean. Or do. I'm not bothered I suppose. ...fools.)

     Let's just take this one out.

     3. Do write things that I think the people that I think are interested in this type of thing (dreck) would like to read. (I'll try not to let you down!!)
     Check √. You guys are some weirdos.

     4. Not take myself too seriously. (It's just some e-words. so, they don't really exist! "You're crazy for reading!!!)

     I don't think I'm in any danger of that. 

     5. Stop if this gets boring for me. (I'm the best kind of selfish, but still love me.)

     Umm... this has gotten pretty boring for me at times, and I'm sure it has to you, but I don't have plans to quit any time soon. I like blogging. And like to think you're sometimes entertained by my nonsense. 

You know what, it doesn't matter if I passed or failed. Point is, I'm sorry. I know I'm always asking for forgiveness, but I'll try to do better. Hey?! I thought about retroactively posting a blog for September 30th but thought you deserved it straight. That's gotta count for something right? So give us another chance, dahlin'. I'll try to come 'round more. It's the least you deserve for putting up with a chump like me.  And who knows, maybe we'll find our way to each other again. 

I had the most obliging cashier today...

Frisky.

Biological Clock

There's a point in most women's lives when anything "baby" makes them go crazy. I'm no exception. Recently even the sight of a baby makes my mind wander. But not like you would think. Some women fantasize about having babies, I fantasize about naming them. I meet a person and think, "Ooh! That's a good name." Or read a book and know, "I wouldn't name my daughter that." It's absurd. Any Iggys, Petals, Olivers, or Thurstons I come across, I store in my mental Name-Bank to dump on some imaginary future kid. But it's all in fun. Right now I like babies as much as I like dogs. Because naming is far more exciting than the thought of raising a child I don't even have the attention to feed. The power to names things is amazing! Makes me feel like a real Adam. Not Eve. That tart ruined it for us all.

Do you ever...

...brush your teeth with your left hand and pretend you're going through physical therapy? ...me neither.