So last night I decided to jot down the things I caught myself saying out loud to, well myself. Here's what we came up with in chronological (unedited) order. I'm sure that this wasn't all of them...I know Beaver spoke a time or two but it was before I started documenting.
"Tomorrow I may have Lucky Charms" I said and broke the silence between myself and Sailor Jerry (that'd be a rum in case I lost you there). The cat looked up but maintained unimpressed. No response from the dog.
"I can't believe I've watched an hour of this shit" About a celebrity look a like makeover that was actually one the rolling channel guide channel so you only get like half a screen. (Loser.)
"I'm pretty funny" - not sure what the hell I did to bring this one out but I made myself laugh before I said it.
"Stop sniffing that...Rocky the Raccoon was in that bush wasn't he...I'm troubled by that" really said more to Roger than myself but out loud without a human in earshot.
"Dang...I'm staggering...nice" while standing in the front yard looking up at the stars and waiting on the dog to pee.
"A trip...oh wow, I tripped and my hair fell" in response to the Tresome 24 hour body dumbass hair commercial.
"Oooo fuckin' A this shits gonna be good" about some leftover bread from work with the Promise cardiologist recommended butter stuff on it @ 12:45. I kinda missed dinner last night.
Other Randomness
I've got to google baked kidneys....I'm starting to worry that my time spent on the heating pad may be cooking my innerds. Now that I'm oh what...a 150 years old and stand for 8 hours every night my frickin back hurts so I come home and sometimes sit on the heating pad (like last night) and always sleep on it. It cuts itself off after like 2 hours but I'm thinking I could be slow roasting my organs...Is this a legitimate concern?? Or am I turning into one of those crazy f-ers like I work with??
The official oatmeal countdown is 17 remaining. To update those unaware, Mr Man bought one of those big ass boxes of oatmeal from Costco. 55 packs. 55. Me and my little twisted mind have been trying to conquer it. I have taken them out and counted wwway to many times so at 29 I wrote the number on the box and started marking it with a sharpie. So 17 after this morning. I could have this thing done by my birthday. Of course, Mr Man is never in the mood for oatmeal (imagine that) so I'm battling the sex oatmeal on my own. Until I started the new counting system I was convinced the little packs where screwing and making more little packs. I have dispelled that theory now.
I got a catalog in the mail yesterday and did an out loud YAY at the mailbox. I have pages already dog-eared and everything. I'm so stoked. Then I realized it may go along with my grocery store shoes fashion taste. Its the Bass Pro Women's collection. (Thats where I got my lesbanese camoflauge shorts that I wore like every other day last summer). So here's to more dike dressing this summer.
So this morning I talked to Nanner and told here I'd written down my outbursts last night...her comment "Let me guess, one involved a terd". See...I'm not as predictable as one may assume.
Ran across this in my journal...not sure if I've every posted it, so here ya go.
My individuality and free thinking are what make me, ME. If you are not aware of said individuality then you absolutely do not know ME. Beliefs and lack of normal beliefs are what define ME.
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