I'm the confident girl with no confidence.

All right, so I pretty much bombed my 30-day challenge.  In my defense, I work 40 hours a week and sleep whatever hours remain. Blow me.

I'd like to say that I enjoy blogging. Sometimes I do.  However, I write words to be read, and I don't think anyone -actually- reads these posts, so it seems incredibly futile.  I 'unno. Maybe I'm just an asshole who likes to hear herself talk. Er, type?  I really only like to blog about myself.  I don't care about anything else in the world.  Seriously. Just watch how many times I use the word 'I' or refer to myself somehow.  It will fuck your mind to pieces.

And that's another thing about me; I LOVE TO SWEAR.  Honestly, I tried to stop once upon a time, but I can't get the anger out of my system.  There is nothing diffusing about saying, "Gosh bless it, Nancy!"  It just doesn't work.  The quick burst of anger that comes with screaming FUCK! when you're angry is so relaxing and fulfilling.

I've also recently decided that my GPS's name is Audrey.  She wasn't listening to me when I told her that I refused to turn right, so I screamed, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! AUDREY! AUDREY!" a la Anchorman-style.  It seemed to fit, so now that bossy ho's name is Audrey.  I talk to Audrey a lot.  I wish she were better at small talk, though.  When I'm on a six-mile stretch of road and she isn't telling me where to go, I feel extremely lonely.

Right now, I'm extremely hungry.  I didn't have time for breakfast, had lunch, didn't take a meal at work, and didn't eat when I got home.  And I'll be a giant cock if I'm going to cook at this hour.

My cat is HORRIFIED of Frankenberry. And I use the word 'horrified' in the most severe sense possible.  I'm surprised she hasn't crapped her cat pants just from looking at him.  Though, if I were a tiny feline faced with a 6'6" man-beast, I'd probably hiss and hide behind the toilet, too.  To each his own; we all know the monsters can't reach behind the toilet.

^^This shit right here: this is what goes on in my head all day long. Isn't it irritating as fuck?  Often I wish that my brain could STFU for five minutes, but I don't really want that.  Silence scares me.

You know what else scares me?  Well, yes, that.  But another thing: blank paper.  I square to Bob. Blank paper freaks me the fuck out.  And when you work at an office supply store, it's EVERYWHERE.  I'm gonna have PTSD if I ever leave Staples.

Pregnant women scare me a little. A lot.  I don't know what it is.  But you...you have a thing MOVING AROUND INSIDE your body. How in the balls do you live with that for nine months?!  I mean, it's INSIDE you, and it MOVES. *shudders*  I couldn't do it.  Every time I have to help a pregnant customer at work, I want to run away, screaming.

Jerry's final thought:

Thanks for showing me your kankles, but I don't want to sing about Jesus.