Or for venting.
And you guessed it- today I'm venting...
Here's how my brain is working this morning:
In my opinion, there are about four distinct kinds of people.
1. Cookies and Milk people
2. Beer and Hot Wings people
3. Lemons and Pickles people
4. Spam and Whiskey people
To some, these titles may be self-explanatory, but here's a quick review in case you are clueless:
Cookies and Milk people are soft spoken, slow to anger, sweet without being sappy, and they avoid confrontation at all costs. They are naturally positive, usually smiling, and get along with just about all of the other types.
Beer and Hot Wings people are fun-loving, self-confident party goers who love to have fun, take risks and push the envelope. They are sometimes loud and obnoxious, but have a good soul. They prefer to surround themselves with friends, but are also comfortable sitting at home alone watching Nascar.
Lemons and Pickles people are never satisfied, always in a bad mood, hold grudges, find it difficult to smile, and they blame the world for their problems. They find joy in complaining, discussing their health, selfishness, and finding fault in others.
Spam and Whiskey people are sometimes known as white trash. They are both lazy and sloppy. They are content with their big screen TV and old four wheeler. They love makeup, cheap cigarettes, drama, and trailer fights. They indulge in leopard prints, camouflage and they adore bumper stickers.
Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I've always thought of myself as a Cookies and Milk kind of gal.
Today I'm a Pickle-Spammy-Hotwing ball of I-hate-the-world kind of person!
Let me explain:
First of all, dear readers, I did not abandon you yesterday. I was up bright and early writing my Goodwill Wednesday post. I had several projects to share with you.
But guess what? My Lemony-Pickle kind of internet service sucks! I wasn't able to upload any pictures at all! And what would Goodwill Wednesday be without photos?
Especially when the title of the post was: Goodwill Wednesday: Turtles and Naked Men.
Now- when you have something like that to share, people naturally want pictures to go along with the story. Especially women with their mind in the gutter
But- the knarly Spam/Whiskey/Beer people at my local internet office can't pull themselves away from their tetchy-induced comas for a moment to come out and track down the problem.
So- (insert a photo of the Hulk right here)- I am slightly leaning toward the alternate personalities today!
Trash day is Tuesday. Why do I always have an overflowing bag of trash by Wednesday night?? It's almost as if the Trash Fairy came in the middle of the night and stuffed the thirty gallon bag with crap just to annoy and confuse me. Great job, Trash Fairy! It never fails! You are gooooood.
How come when it gets warmer and sunny outside, it also gets muddy? I was anxious to pick up limbs and sticks from the yard yesterday because it got 70 degrees here (Whoop-whoop!!) But, after picking up the first two sticks, I was wearing ten pound mud boots and sporting a wind-induced mullet!
And, besides- after the sticks were picked up- what was I going to do? Too early for gardening and mowing. What was I supposed to do? Sit at the picnic table and pretend my wet pant legs, soiled socks, giant mud soles and the yackyity-yippy dogs from next door didn't bother me? Yeah, right...
Why can my husband and I sit for hours straight watching TV and not speak a word, but the minute I go in the other room to fold laundry or fill the dishwasher, he prepares some kind of speech directed to me that sounds like hair choking the tub drain.
I can't HEAR you!! Got it?
If I was a Catholic, I guess I'd be at confession this morning. (In my mud boots.)
Because I want to let you all in on a little secret. Diets cause me to lie. Yes, I said lie- as in: to tell untruths; to be dishonest.
I went into the smoke shop yesterday to buy my husband his nasty-habitual-macho tobacco- and right there on the counter were fresh creme horns the size of my upper arm. Well, maybe not that big- but take my word for it- they were gigantically huge.
First, I thought to myself that I shouldn't spend the money on such yumminess. (A mere 98 cents plus tax.) Then, the whole diet memory kicked in and I told myself that never in one million and fourteen years- would that humongous flaky roll of calorie-laden happiness EVER be part of a diet.
But- then that Cookies and Milk kind of gal morphed into Lemon-Pickle territory. I said to myself- "Self- how can you spend eight dollars on unhealthy, unnecessary tobacco products for your husband, but deny yourself the 98 cent (plus tax) cream horn that has your name engraved in the mound of overflowing fluff?
So- guess what? They put that tasty baby in a neat, white sack and I drove it home like a winning lottery ticket.
But then this is where the lying part came in.
I had just barely finished licking the creamy tips of my sweetened fingers and washing my eyebrows and forehead of tell-tale signs of flaky bakery crust- and dusting my black sweater free of powdered sugar residue- when my husband came home.
"Hi, Honey", I said smiling- still feeling that lump of sugar-love in my belly.
He looked at me kind of funny and said- "Are we still doing this diet thing?"
What???? Had my head blown up like a carbohydrate blimp? Had he noticed the forth roll of love handles under my sweat pants? Had I carelessly left a glittering of candy-fluff at the corner of my mouth?
"Well, of course we are, Dear." I assured him with a smile...
There's a good chance I'm going to Hell, isn't there?
So- today you get another version of me. A blog without pictures. A negative rendition of Cookies and Milk that have crumbled and gone sour.
I guess I'll just curl up with my naked man ( that you can't even see because my freakin' internet is being all crazy) -and call it a day...