The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I eat this really horrible-for-me thing about once every few years. I take a can of spaghetti – the kind with the sweeter sauce – melt in Kraft Deluxe American Cheese (not the kind in the individual wrappers, which is processed “cheese food” whatever that is), and sprinkle a ton of crushed red pepper on it. For a side, I have white bread smeared with butter.

It’s so yummy, and I ate that tonight for dinner and washed the whole mess down with a beer.

I can feel my thighs growing as I type this!

So, Kahlua bit me tonight while I was grooming her. She bit me on the head, and now I have bangs where before there were none. Not cool! But, otherwise we got along great, so she got her apple anyway. I’m a big softie. I need to call my hairdresser now though, because me and bangs don’t get along. It’s not pretty.

 

I was talking with Email Buddy Eric today, and he made a comment about my last post. I think he said that I wasn’t a very nice person when I was younger. Or, at least that’s what I inferred from what he said. You’d have to ask him about the exact verbiage. That man remembers everything. Including that we were in the gym working out – well, to be honest, he was working out. I was sitting on the bench watching him workout while I complained that I just wasn’t “into it” – when I’d heard the Smashing Pumpkins song that prompted my post.

So he’s emailing me about what a beotch I was to this guy even after I told him that in exchange for stealing her man, that girl that was so crazy about him went crazy on my car with her keys. I won’t even tell you what she did with the car’s antenna. Yeah. At least, I’m not that mean. Or crazy. Believe me, I did that guy a favor.

I know he was just giving me a hard time, but it made me reflect on the stuff I write. And here’s where my melt down begins…

 

We all do things when we’re young that we would never in a million years do as adults. I’m not perfect. Never claimed to be. I have a past. I have problems, and, yeah, that crap is going to surface in what I write.

I wrote a post a week or so ago that got an “anonymous” comment that bothered me for the entire day. It was a nothing comment. I’ll never know who posted it, but it bugged me. Yet, I refuse to round file it because people are entitled to their opinions even when they don’t agree with mine.

If Wendy had written it, I would have thought, “That’s Wendy. She’s a smart lady.” If Vodka Mom had pointed out that I was a nut job, I would have thought, “Well, she might be right,..Or drunk.” Suzy would have made a comment that made me laugh, because she can’t help but do that. And if dear Chaos had posted it,.. Well, she never would have written it. She would have sent me a hug. Bless her sweet West Virginian heart.

But being “anonymous”, who knows what the intent was behind the comment? Stuff like that drives me crazy.

See? Problems!

I have a pretty good life. I’m a little screwed up, but everyone is. At least I’ll admit it. I count myself lucky to have the family and friends that I have. They love me in spite of the fact that they can’t have a conversation with me that I won’t reprint verbatim. They’re all saints in my book for that reason alone.

And, dammit, I’m a work in progress. Not to get all Sartrean on you or anything, but don’t judge me until I’m done progressing.

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