Hi! If you were expecting something coherent, or substantive, or well-organized, or worth your time and energy, then I don't know what to tell you. You're an idiot. Why would you come here for that? Go watch "The View" or stick a shampoo bottle up your hiney-hole. Jesus. What am I-- 7-Eleven? Come on.
I've got about nine minutes for this here particular blogging adventure and, trust me, it's gonna be short, ugly, and tough to look at. And that, motherfuckers, is what. she. said.
Things that make me panic:
Being constipated
Having diarrhea
Having to spell "diarrhea"
Being late
Being early
Being on-time
Being spoken to.
Speaking in public.
Speaking to people one-on-one.
Speaking to people on the phone.
Making plans to socialize.
Canceling plans to socialize.
Socializing.
Checking out women.
Checking out library books.
Checking my windshield washer fluid.
Checking my bank balance.
Czeching the Republic.
Shopping.
Making dinner.
Making love.
Cleaning the house.
Cleaning the body.
Looking into my rearview mirror.
Being thought of mistakenly as a pervert.
Being thought of correctly as a pervert.
Tacchycardia.
Looking for my favorite pair of socks and not finding them.
Being asked to accomplish tasks.
When people have faith in me.
When people have no faith in me.
Knowing that it's time to go to sleep.
Thinking about death.
Doing the laundry.
Um... there are things I'm forgetting, but I'm panicking because I have to leave the house in two minutes.
Oh-- right: forgetting things.
Got it.
Posts
Moving House
1 year ago
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