I don't know what's more irritating; waking up to a terrible rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You", the garbage truck, or my husband yelling at the dog because she ate someone's breakfast off of the table (but come on, no one was eating those burnt sausage patties anyway). And seriously, who could be mad at this face?
The weather's getting warmer. People are already complaining about the heat. Considering what a b**ch of a winter we had, I'll take anything and sing my gratitude. But working in retail, like I do, you hear so many people complain. And the weather is the first strike. I guess it's considered small talk. Isn't that strange? You figure you need to be nice while buying canned corn and ice cream sandwiches, so your first thought is to bellyache about the mild humidity, even though 6 weeks ago your fingers were blue from frost and you couldn't walk into a store without your nose dripping like you were allergic to life. People are strange. And I'm no exception. Give me a a couple of days, I'll step off my soap box, but complain as soon as my feet touch asphalt because it's haaawwwwwttt.
I'm also learning, in my old age, how important it is to take off eye makeup before going to bed. I know, it's important at any age, it's bad for the skin to leave it on all night, yada yada but seriously, everyone does it at some point. But it's not the health effects I worry about. It's the nasty black eye boogers in the morning that gross me out. And now I've grossed you out with talk of my eye goop. Sorry.
Eye goop. That is all.
So here it is. The moment I've been thinking about and nervously anticipating for the last 2 some-odd years.
I got the idea of making a blog, really, to get rid of these little thoughts, ideas, and tidbits of nothing that are muddling in my brain. That and, my husband says it would be a good idea because "people say" I'm funny. He says it like HE doesn't think I am. He does, though. He totally does.
I can't really tell how this is going to go. I've never been good at keeping a journal. And that's essentially what a blog is, right; a journal? Only one that you post for the world (look at my ego grow already) to see, for all of eternity. I have a journal, and have had it for 7 years now. There are 13 entries. So yeah, a bit of a crap-shoot.
Maybe I'll tell you (who ever is reading this and wants to know) a little about me; female, late 20's, Canada, purple, makeup, nail poli-- sorry, I just reverted to the old high school 'MSN Messenger' opening line. Computers are weird, I should be doing this on my iPhone. Anyway those first three are apt: I'm a bored, married twenty-something, mother-of-two, with a growing obsession for makeup, nail polish, and YouTube videos. My kids are getting older, and this is something "just for mommy". Like Palm Bays. Or mascara. A place just for me to ramble on, to no one in particular, about nothing of any relevance to anyone but me. Mostly about the circus act that is my home life, or what's currently occupying my makeup table, if I got anything in the mail, or about how I wish I could drink like I did when I was 21, but still proud that I don't anymore (without sounding sanctimonious). Let's see how that works.
I have absolutely no idea how to do this. There's a 'HELP' button somewhere. I may use it. I'll wait until it's 3 am, and I'm sweaty, sobbing and in foetal position, twitching finger hovering un-decidedly above the 'Publish' button. So come along on this crazy journey. And if you don't, please call 9-1-1, in case that whole sobbing on the floor thing turns into a seizure and I need medical assistance.
-N
