Fleeting Thoughts After...
...after I realized I couldn't even finish that sentence.
I've been homebound for three days now and I am already losing my mind. YEAH SOME PEOPLE HAVE IT WORSE, I GET IT. But I'm not thinking about these people. I'm thinking about myself. I'm a blogger, what do you expect?
Everyone loses their minds in different ways. I, personally, get stuck on Imagination Island where I think up ridiculous scenarios and conversations that will absolutely never take place. I'll give you two.
1. Some kid knocks on my front door. It's Halloween. He's dressed in a bunny rabbit costume. (Does anyone else think the phrase "bunny rabbit" is a bit redundant? Same with puppy dog and kitty cat. You don't ever hear anyone saying "baby man," do you?) Anyway, this kid says, "Trick or treat!" and I say, "Silly rabbit! Tricks are for kids!" Then I throw candy at his face and slam the door.
2. I'm talking to someone and I'm trying to explain to them that I've swallowed my pride. Then, to fully convince them, I tell them that not only did I swallow it, but I turned it into bubble gum. That way, I won't shit my pride back out and recycle it. Oh no no no. That pride will stay swallowed for seven years.
...I need to get out of my house.
Someone was brought to my blog by googling "sex girls coloring pictures." Sorry to disappoint you, man. I'm running unusually low on my X-rated coloring books.
At the same time, another person was brought to my blog by googling "I am 'unfit to live with.'" Gee, thanks, Google. You really gave me a confidence boost there.
I've come to accept this whole "I gave my cat a girl's name because I didn't know it was really a boy" thing. If you think about it, I am now three steps closer to being Johnny Cash. The first step was we both wear all black. The second step was that we both agree that you can have our empires of dirt. Who needs dirt, anyway? The third step - he has a boy named Sue, and I have a boy named LeeLoo.
I had an uncomfortable conversation at work the other day that somehow managed to get weirder and weirder as it went on.
"I've had sex with seven people."
"I think I've had sex with eight."
"Hey, Natasha! How many people have you had sex with?"
"Uh...yes...have you had sex with things other than people...?"
"What! No! NO! I just meant...I mean...you threw me off guard...with that question...uh..."
"Have you had sex with animals?"
Interesting ice-breaker. I'll have to use that one at next year's Thanksgiving.
"NO! NO! I just didn't know if I heard you right! That's all...yeah. People. Right, right."
"So how many?"
"What? Uh. I don't know."
"NO! NO! Not at all! That's not what I meant, either! I just mean...uh..."
This is when I thought the best thing to do was start counting on my fingers. Then, after realizing that this was the WORST thing I could possibly do, I stopped.
"I don't know."
"So it's more than you can count on your fingers?"
"NO! NO! I just...like...two, three, WHAT?! I really don't want to answer this."
This is the point where I start throwing out random numbers and everyone goes from thinking I'm a slut to thinking I'm a virgin.
"...can you count it on one hand?"
"YES! YES! I don't sleep around! I just...don't...want to answer that...it's personal..."
This is the point where everyone thinks I may be a lesbian. Or asexual. Or an alien.
"I'm going to get some coffee now."
This is the point where I flee the scene because I don't like talking about personal things like SEX with people who are not close friends. I don't even really talk about it with people who ARE my close friends, because I'm just reserved about that kind of stuff. It's private. Unless it's a funny sex story. Then I'll share it with anyone. But not the intimate stuff. CALL ME OLD-FASHIONED, I DON'T GIVE A HOOT. Plus, they basically trapped me there. If I don't answer, it looks suspicious. If I do answer, I've been forced to share something I didn't want to share. They tricked me!
...silly rabbits. Tricks are for kids.