I’m in a question kind of mood…since I answered all those probing demands yesterday…
Plus, I’m feeling slightly out-of-focus today…no, more like, there is no focus. Just a big blur with ten million things going on, so I can’t really make out anything…other than the damn blur.
I’ve been thinking, my bloggie people, thinking quite heavily, actually…which tends to result in random ass questions…and instead of subjecting Tim to them, I’m taking it out on you.
I know. “Dammit, what in the hell did I DO?”…is what you’re thinking.
Blame it on my paranoia from those stupid ass questions…especially after that comment about people following me…cause now I’m certain someone is watching with a scope from ten miles away on top of a mountain that doesn’t exist…logging all my little nuances.
Maybe it’s time for security detail…or an electric, barbed wire fence…though that second option isn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing (and I want you to know I spelled “aesthetically” correctly on my first attempt without using spell check…cause that’s like, a big word. I know. I’m awesome at spelling).
Anyway, my questions to you…why did you start your blog?…And is it everything you thought it would be?
See, I have this giant problem that results in me having no friends…which, I’ve totally accepted. I get it. I’m a bitchy, pain in the ass.
Otherwise known as an over-achiever-anal-retentive-perfectionist.
With extraordinairly high expectations.
I think sometimes people think they’re too high…but I don’t think they’re high ENOUGH.
The problem is…I have zero patience…so laying down the foundation and WAITING FOR THINGS TO HAPPEN is like asking me to rip off all my extremities, one by one, and then reattach them with a needle and thread.
Actually, no, that’d probably be faster than all this waiting.
And I don’t even fucking know how to sew.
The only reason this hasn’t ended yet is because I’m hiding from the lawn people.
Because there are currently fifty piles of water-logged dog shit in the yard that they are going to have to mow over.
Come to think of it, I’m still pissed at them because they mowed over my little blackberry farm.
So, maybe they deserve all the shit.
Either way, I’m afraid to leave because I know the lawn people will see me and then throw it at me.
I think I just heard a piece of shit hit the side of the house.
That wasn’t very nice.