Blogging that is. It's kind of strange, really- people thinking strangers give a fuck about the scarf they bought or their recent breakup.Then again, my favorite part of Doogie Howser was at the end when he typed in his journal. Mostly because I am completely nosey. I never kept a journal or diary growing up, so chances are I will slack on this, or fill the Internet with useless drabble no one really gives a fuck about. Regardless, here we go.
I'm 30. I've been married for 10 years (Right?! Take that Kardashian.) I'm ridiculous. And by ridiculous, I mean just that. I say what's on my mind; sometimes it gets me in trouble, but most times it's fucking awkward. (Oh yeah, I love the word fuck. I realize some people think it makes one sound less intelligent...but meh. It's an awesome word.) I get it from my Grams. She was awesome, but also had a knack for being hilarious when she wasn't trying to be. Don't worry, I'll share some Grandma stories some day. I wish she was still here so I could have more.
Anyway, I am a freak magnet and stupid shit happens to me all the time. My friends actually expect to get a call from me that starts with "You are NOT going to believe what just happened to me" For instance, a few months ago I was out at a bar watching an 80's cover band. (as you can imagine, the people watching was fantastic.) A man that looked like a 6'8" version of Kenny Rogers approached me and asked me if I liked being tickled.
....
No, really. This is my life. I have no choice but to laugh at it, but I find humor in almost anything.
Hey, look at that. I've blogged.
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