Atleast There is Coffee

So, like the day of the wasp (the picture of the wasp, not a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant), I have nothing cool and insightful to say. So I am just going to say a bunch of things until I have nothing else to say.

My mom looked at me yesterday and said “what is the deal with your face?” I am really glad I am not going through an emo, insecure period right after a bad break-up in which I am trying to deal with rebuild my image of myself. That might have stung then.

I really want a sarcasm font.

I have been moody as hell lately. I can’t tell if it is actual depression or hormones. That could explain the deal with my face. Either way I have been emo as crap. I am thinking about dying my hair dark and wearing lots of eyeliner. I will carry around an expensive looking bound journal and tell people I am journaling through my pain. Anyone know where I can get some large angry looking boots in a ladies size 10?

The good thing is I have been pleased with my writing. I don’t care if you guys are just being nice because I am that obviously unhinged, I like the approval and I am not above being lied to.

Behold the fuzzy fuzzzy bunny.

Look at the fuzzy bunny. LOOK AT IT.

Look at it…

okay

So I have started working out again. I enjoy working out because I am strange. I am doing a strange work out cardio video and Pilates for the really out of shape folks. I have only been really sore one day. and on that day I rested.

I turn thirty in November. I have decided that I would like to have hot enough legs by then to wear a short skirt. Stacy London tells me that it is bad form to wear mini-skirts after 35 so I would like to wear a short skirt and have it look good atleast once before then.

Are you looking at the fuzzy bunny?

The only bad thing about working out is that my butt is constantly sore and you cannot complain about that like you can your legs or arms being sore. People think I was having waaay more fun than I actually did.

Speaking of sex, yesterday I was thinking about how rusty my flirting with intent skills have gotten. I can still flirt up a storm on accident or with someone I have no desire to sleep with but I found that my “game” is sadly lacking.  I was pouting about how bad fifteen months had damage my man getting skills until I had a realization. I never really had man catching skills. My “game” consisted of wearing low cut shirts and hoping that whomever I was lusting for found socially awkward and slightly insane incredibly sexy. Maybe by November I can up my game to socially awkward, mildly insane, sometimes funny, boobs hanging out, and in a short skirt. Hey it never hurts to have goals.

And now my coffee cup is empty. Good news is that I have an idea for Saturday’s blog. I just need to do a bit more writing in my head. I hope you enjoyed the fuzzy bunny.