home of the enslaved and cowardly

...apparently an ISFP or INFP. Know of any quiet perfectionist or confidante-types? I really do have a ton of ESFJ qualities (namely guilt-manipulation, seeking appreciation, taking criticism as a general indictment of my character, needing approval, being hurt by indifference - obviously I am not going to list out the good qualities, but you can go look them up and see what kind of gal I am). This week is kicking my butt, but (HAHAHA - completely unintentional. Scout's honor) soon I will be home with my family and trusty hound, resting for the weekend. Cheers to my current repertoire of recipes that are ingrained into my trusty cerveau (tonkatsu, pizza, raspberry-filled lemon cupcakes, and now Korean barbeque). On my way to becoming a happy homemaker.

Apparently, cheerleaders and my grandmother both have this habit of folding their shirt half up, exposing their navels. I imagine that they do this for very different purposes - clearly, cheerleaders are trying to cool down during sweaty practices, and my grandma wants to show off her navel (Yew gross. I barely came away from that joke with my life intact). In my family, cursing is an occasional occurrence. However, the bigger your dilemma is, the quieter and more prolonged your whisper of "shit' is. Drop a spoon onto the ground? shit Drop a plate that crashes into a kajillion pieces? shhhiiiiiiiit Leave your wallet at home after leaving 10 minutes ago? shhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit Got my ass handed to me by a very short and sweet quiz today. shiiiiiiiii-

Sometimes I wonder how it was that I would spontaneously send people "good morning" or "have a wonderful day today!" messages less than a year ago. Where on the scale of happiness was I at the time? What did I do to get there? How did it feel? Is it possible for me to go back to that? Not in a particularly solemn mood. Just curious. So tired these days. But not the hope-to-go-sleep-and-never-wake-up way that I wished for a couple years ago. Just the usual heavy-eyelids-dizzily-teetering-along-the-edge-of-consciousness manner. Sleepy babies are fussy babies. Or at least I am.

Oh Weather. You are a tricky little itch with a bee. Why are you so nice when I have to stay at home all day? Definitely not helping me be a shut-in to accomplish things. On the upside, I made marinade for Korean bbq. Downside - no one will be around to eat it with me tomorrow. I even did the whole watching tv whilst eating ice cream all alone on a Saturday night. BACK TO THE CHRISTMAS MUSIC AND LATIN REVIEW.

I like this one fellow's blog. It makes me sigh and squish all the airs out of my lungs. But it's too smart and beautiful and sad for me to be a real reader of. I can barely make intelligent and intelligible comments about his writing in meo capite . So I shall keep my admiration to an anonymous minimum. If any of those sentences made any sense to you - well done.  Blerg, justspenttwominutesretypingonesentencedoIhavetowriteinEnglish? Sometimes the fact that people may be reading what I spit (as in nasty, water-out-of-your-mouth not the straight-rappin-fuck-all-you-haters-type) onto here worries me. But I keep it public because I don't want to back down in surrender. Skim shady told me that she doesn't get this concept, so I realized that I may be the only one with this strategy.  GAH. Also, (secretly) I call dibs on the term "boo," Usher and Alicia Keys style. This is in accordance with my inner inner-city gal. One night, The Easily Offensive a...

But you have to be absolutely  sure that you wish for exactly what you most desire right now.  Absolutement. No backsies. What do you wish for?

Let me meet someone who will know how to handle me when I become a sweats-wearing, emotional lump. No matter how high I want to pull up my pants. And please let them be prepared. And it wouldn't hurt if they(wrong pronoun I know) think I have a winning smile. Or if I think that they have a winning smile. Totally up to you. We can totally jam to the same songs. Oldies but goodies. And hiphop. And Mongolian. And Tibetan. And now the list has become unrealistic. (Although I now know that the target population should be Asian and nearly thirty years old. Totally unhelpful.)

Don't ask me to explain myself. I don't have time for your shit. I am a busy woman - why are you making me resort to listening to my fiery tracks to simmer? (Can't nobody-ing it so hard up in here) Fuck off - we'll deal with this later. Not that I want to. Bacteria that lives on the scum scraped off the maggots that are crushed beneath my feet. No one wants to deal with me dealing with you. Who said anything about being mature?