If I had a nickel for each time I was told that I am ridiculously random… well… let’s just say- i’d never have to dread the day my children are grown and it’s more socially acceptable for me to go back into the workforce than it would be to quite literally become a housewife.
In other words- i’m told it a lot. A lot a lot.
I’m not offended by it, and not because I don’t offend easily, but because it’s true. And I like it. If I weren’t completely random I would be bored. Really bored. And I don’t like being bored.
I’m the type of person who, for reasons unknown to even myself, will text message a random friend with things like “I have water in my left ear”, and then follow it up with “And I think I might have to poop. Thought you’d like to know.”
They probably don’t like to know, but that doesn’t usually stop me. Or ever. I should say ever. It never stops me.
My randomness I wear like a badge- and it’s likely the reason this blog has stayed afloat for so long, because there’s never NOT something going through my head. A topic, a comment, a question, a smell, a poop story. And for some reason, not only AM I random, but I attract randomness. I guess that works out in my favor.
My point, duh, is that i’m random- but my point to this blog is that I was feeling even more random than usual. Why? Well it could be the sleep deprivation, or how I nearly sweat myself to fucking death all night and am dehydrated and therefore not functioning on full brain power (it’s no wonder people talk shit about menopause- hot flashes are no fucking joke).
With all this randomness floating around in my head, i’m unable to really form a full thought on any of it, so I thought- if I can harass my friends with random weirdness, why not all of you?
So here is a collection of my random thoughts of the day. Hey, maybe you think the same weird shit, have an answer for any of it, OR you could save yourself some trouble, because I am constantly making an idiot of myself and one would be wise not to do a lot of the dumbassish things I do.
I love Google, but sometimes it does me wrong. As does peripheral vision. Corner of my eye while random googling? “Brain Tapeworms” caught my eye. NO I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS, but now i’m going to be thinking about it. Is this like those boob worm pictures that went around in the era of tub girl? Wasn’t real but it would give you nightmares and have you checking your nips for months.
One should not brush their teeth while going #2 thinking it’s a good idea because you’re getting two things out of the way at once- YAY FOR MULTITASKING!- unless you want to taste your own poop. No, toothpaste is not strong enough to kill it, and no, woman shit does not smell like butterflies. And yes, women shit.
I wish I could think of an excuse good enough to get out of making dinner, but I did that Sunday which carried over to Monday and there’s just no way to get out of cooking again. Unless I lose an arm. That would be a lot of work, and i’d probably end up having to eat hospital food.
The hospital I had Parker at had good chicken salad, but they took for fucking ever. It’s like ordering a pizza and them giving you a ballpark of 30-45 minutes and still not slamming your face with pizza an hour and a half later. I don’t like waiting for food, so the whole cutting off the arm bit would likely not go in my favor.
My right arm hurts. Tetanus shots fucking suck. Remind me never to get bit by a tick again, and if I do, never to show anyone pictures of said tick bite, because they will insist I go to the doctor in order not to die, and the doctor will stick a tetanus shot in my arm, and it will be worthless for a damn week. Here I thought I was just a whiny little shit and it wasn’t that bad, OH NO, it’s bad. It’s really bad. I have the urge to maim someone. But not with this arm. But how can you maim someone with your bad arm?
If Parker sings that damn song one more time I might lose my mind. There are only two lyrics, which is only two letters. A,B,A,B,A,B,A,B.. FUCK! I don’t even care what it is, to be honest- I just want to know HOW IT ENDS.
I’m sad that House is over, but at least now I have less to watch on Monday nights. My DVR was starting to pour smoke from the bottom. Not really, but having a full DVR makes me anxious.
Speaking of anxious, I heard that people who have high anxiety levels are less likely to attract mosquitoes. Biggest bunch of bullshit i’ve ever heard. I’m full of anxiety and those fuckers come at me like i’m an all you can eat buffet on seafood night..
I really wish people would stop telling me to CHILL. I like to use the caps button because Facebook in all its fuckery doesn’t have italics, so CAPS HELL IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN SHOW EMPHASIS. I am not FREAKING OUT because i’m typing in caps. I’m actually quite CALM.
T-minus 3 days until Aunt Flo comes dropkicking down my uterine walls. I can feel the flames of hell building. I’m going to need cheesecake. And chocolate. And possible (ok more than likely) a boatload of alcohol.
I hope the icecream truck doesn’t come by today. I’m sick of having to explain to the kids that I do not have cash ON me and NO they can’t have my lucky $2 bill to buy shitty tasting icecream with. I mean, really, they can’t get quality shit on that truck? That’s too much to ask? The tastebuds of children aren’t refined enough to care about the flavor of the junk you’re peddling? Yeah well WHAT ABOUT ME?
Of course, I just made a big stink about the paranoia of nap time and how shit always seems to ruin it- and someone pounded on my door like their life was ending. May they get swamp ass.
Why do people say “break a leg”? Obviously, if someone broke a leg in the middle of something whatever the hell it is that it’s important enough to say ‘break a leg’ for, they’d be fucked. It feels like a jinx. I don’t like jinxes. But I still use them as often as possible.
That show “The Talk” is just like “The View” only minus the cuntiness and split screens. I still don’t like it though. But I do like Sharon Osbourne… but I can just watch her on America’s Got Talent- even though it comes on when i’m trying to record too much other shit and then I end up missing over half of it. Cursed single room DVR.
Katy Perry looks really stupid. All the time. Cotton candy hair. Does no one care because she has huge tits? Huge tits allow you to get away with looking like you’re wearing a clown wig? You can wear a baby vomit colored dress with old lady lace and no one notices because of your cotton candy hair and no one cares about the cotton candy hair because of the heaving bussom? You still look stupid, Katy Perry.
There’s a thunderstorm coming. This is good and bad. Bad because I can’t take the kids outside which means i’m stick INSIDE with them going apeshit. Good because if I go outside mosquitoes will eat me alive even though i’m full of anxiety and some poo-face said that would protect me. I wonder if the crazy lady will attempt to mow her lawn again in the rain. I hope she wears her knee pads.
Damn that icecream truck. You do know it’s only 25 in neighborhoods, right?
I wish Chic-Fil-A still had Kids Night. Curse them and their wonderful powdered sugar laced with crack chicken nuggets.
My back is fucking killing me. Maybe if the nuggets are laced with crack I should just go and get some anyway. I’ll feel better. No, i’m not rationalizing.
I still don’t want to cook dinner.
Is it bed time yet?
And that is my brain, not on drugs. I just scrolled up, what in the holy hell? I guess i’m a little more random than I thought- but if you’re home alone all day every day with one or multiple children- I suspect the same weird shit goes through your head too.
I am weak pic.twitter.com/LYdRQ6EZcC
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Out with the old, in with the pink! pic.twitter.com/plm0ogzPLf
10 Going on 20: The Spicy Chicken Story goo.gl/fb/qqm3FZ
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