So I bought a fishtank and decided the morning of to bring my friend. I neglected to tell guy I was meeting that he was a huge (in my world handsome) scary black guy. I'm dressed in a skirt and Mary Janes. I wonder what went through that guy's head, as we pulled up in a truck with my husband's name all over it. The three of us (friend, husband and I) laughed our asses off at the fun one can have with complete strangers and how actually they are easier to deal with than family.
I have to compare myself with a disco ball. It depends on lighting and situation as to what comes out of me. Thank goodness I keep the rest to myself. And I'm really good with being mouthy and cussing. Emotions of the moment demand it, and well, God understands as we're so close I put him in the dog house and such. In my mind, its easier to believe in something tangible and treating him pretty much like another husband lets me be human and bitch about not getting what I ask for, dealing with no, etc. etc. Its crazy, I know, but that's how I see him and being raised Catholic and yet having a degree in Anthropology seems hypocritical when I attempt to think why my philosophy doesn't have more of a widespread acceptance other than from nuns, and I blush to put that thought in there, because deep down, I'm a good girl that loves people and how they maintain in a world that really cannot even read/listen to the stuff in the GPS, otherwise known as the Bible. I'm no expert on that and you'll find little solace in knowing where I picked out an idea from that good old guide, but I know its there, because somebody made sure to tell me about it..
Another thing, it stinks realizing that friends, especially of the same sex, are like having an adder clasped to my breast.. plus friends all require tons of work and babysitting, because for some reason, I must kiss their ass because heaven forbid they have to actually do something. Plus they think I am some sort of tattooed Peg Bundy and have no life since I stay at home. Oh shit, word is out. I did a bunch of housecleaning and people are not projects, they are opportunists. Shamelessly so am I. Any new person makes me wonder how they are going to make my life better first, then, what do they look like naked and could I stand that alone in a room with them? So real friends I have in short supply and for once in my life see the reason for thanking God.
I also have aged like some cheese and see I have a salty rind. That rind is shitty, but damn its good cheese. And I whine a bunch since its good to have around with myself. oh ha. ha. Faye shut up
You know, I just realized I can get the marshmallow shooting gun out and test it now, since my Dad was a jerkoff and deep inside the kid in me wants to open it at 3 am.
And I love John's Mom, but if anyone tells her, death by marshmallow, followed by an epitaph using only four letter words.
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