Have you ever wondered if your sense of humor is a little too over the top? And you think, "I probably should be a little more upset about the situation I am currently in" but you just can't help laugh?
Well, as some of you know, that how I operate. So it doesn't surprise me much that when I woke up at 5:30am laying in a puddle of blood on my bathroom floor that I immediately thought:
"I wonder if Grissom would be able to immediately see that I just passed out, or if he'd think there was some foul play going on." When got up off of the floor I thought, "Is the blood consistent with the fall?" and when I saw the smear of blood I left on the vanity when I used it to get up I thought, "Would they first think I used the vanity to catch myself?"
Sick, I know.
Incidentally, because I know you are either wondering if I am making this up, or if I am ok, I should tell you that although I am unfortunately not making this up, I am fine-save for a newly shaped nose from the bump and a lower lip that could rival Bubba's.
Not sure what happened, I wasn't feeling good Friday at work and took it easy last night. When I went to bed I was feeling good. Apparently I went to the bathroom around 5am or so and on the way back to bed I blacked out and fell. I had a bloody nose (hence, the bump-which is great b/c I already hate my nose) and my lower lip is split open (On the inside, so it's lovely to eat/drink) Basically I look like I got beat up a bit, but really, it was just my bathroom floor.
I'm feeling ok now, but plan on taking the day and just reading/resting.
But, if I this does happen again, please be sure I end up on CSI Las Vegas, as that is my favorite of the CSI's.
Thanks.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Scratch This...
Have you ever been in the middle of a really hot conversation with someone that makes you think "This person could maybe possibly be 'the one' who keeps my smile shining" and then you get an itch in a place that is inappropriate to scratch in public?
And you want to keep making eye contact. And you want to keep flashing your fabulous smile. And you start to make that "I'm scrunching my nose in pain" nose scrunch instead of the "I think you are insanely funny and charming" nose scrunch and you can't do anything but hold your breath, clench the largest muscle closest to the itch's location and plan your get away in case it doesn't work?
And then you start thinking, "I hope he doesn't ask me a question or expect me to participate because I'm really just trying to not concentrate on this itch and I can't possibly be expected to also interact with him and his story."
And then you worry about that too. Because if this itch didn't exist in your world (or armpit, or nipple region or anywhere else your mind can wander) then you'd TOTALLY be into this conversation, and would REALLY love to be given the opportunity to have a conversation like this again, with this person...
So you clench and you shift, and you may even drop something on the floor to do a random brushing of the itch region-but nothing really quenches the itch's thirst and you are just praying that he stops talking for a moment so you can politely excuse yourself and go scratch in the bathroom like a crack addict.
Has this ever happened to anyone?
Um, me neither....
And you want to keep making eye contact. And you want to keep flashing your fabulous smile. And you start to make that "I'm scrunching my nose in pain" nose scrunch instead of the "I think you are insanely funny and charming" nose scrunch and you can't do anything but hold your breath, clench the largest muscle closest to the itch's location and plan your get away in case it doesn't work?
And then you start thinking, "I hope he doesn't ask me a question or expect me to participate because I'm really just trying to not concentrate on this itch and I can't possibly be expected to also interact with him and his story."
And then you worry about that too. Because if this itch didn't exist in your world (or armpit, or nipple region or anywhere else your mind can wander) then you'd TOTALLY be into this conversation, and would REALLY love to be given the opportunity to have a conversation like this again, with this person...
So you clench and you shift, and you may even drop something on the floor to do a random brushing of the itch region-but nothing really quenches the itch's thirst and you are just praying that he stops talking for a moment so you can politely excuse yourself and go scratch in the bathroom like a crack addict.
Has this ever happened to anyone?
Um, me neither....
Friday, October 07, 2005
Anthills
Today is my parent's anniversary. I think it's somewhere around 31 or 32. You'd think that being together this long would somehow give them the security of mutual love and respect.
But my parents? They hate each other*...
My mom is the oldest of 6. She's a wild child. In fact, her nickname in high school was "Crazy Maggie". Much to my Papa's chagrin, she had it spray painted in glow in the dark paint on the side of her car. She smoked pot and drank too much and had a ton of friends. This, I am sure, holds true for many of the parent's of children in my age group, (25-35) based on the time in which they were young.
My father wasn't far from how I described my mother, except he was a young, cool guitar player for a almost famous band. (Billy Vera was their lead singer) Needless to say, wild child Momma Mags met crazy cool Daddy Mags and they fell in love partying.
The had me about 2 years after they were married. I remember when I was really young (nursery school/kindergarten) we always had those huge bottles of wine on the top of the fridge-right next to my bottle of chewable vitamin C tabs. I also remember sitting on the stairs looking through the spindles as my parents drank, smoked pot and played cards. Of course, I didn't know it was wrong then, and no one ever hurt me. In fact, when I was little enough to NOT know that it was bad, it was fun...
I'd get woken up at 2am on a school night because it was snowing and my mom wanted me to go sledding with her. Of course, we only had an anthill of a bump to slide down and our sled was dilapidated, but I remember that night. It was particularly bright out-in my memory it's deep blue with white light from above; a full moon. I am standing at the base of the anthill with my Aunt (hee hee) looking at my mom slide on her belly face first toward me. She is laughing hysterically, a laugh not unlike mine today, and when she reaches us, she pulls us down to the ground and we all giggle. We make snow angels before going inside.
I also got to paint a rainbow across the entire wall of my playroom (which I remember as being the biggest room EVER) and had African frogs, tons of fish, parakeets (which my dad's druggie friend killed) a rabbit and a puppy, which I named Christopher Robin. All because my parents partied too much.
I remember that time fondly, actually. Because like I said, I didn't know it was wrong. I was just a kid with fun parents who gave me weird stuff that my friends didn't have.
Year after horrible year I grew up, learning that my father's addiction to alcohol was what was slowly killing our family. It wasn't until I moved away to Florida when I was 20 that I truly began to realize how stifled I was by it. Luckily, by the grace of God, my father is now sober and has been for 6 years.
It's funny. My whole life I thought that it was the alcohol that made our family sick-but it wasn't. It was the disease. The disease that still haunts our family on a daily basis. A disease that's crept so far into my mother's soul THROUGH my father, that she now displays hostility and anger even when she's sitting still.
And my father is impatient.
And my mother is stubborn and defensive.
And today, they will ignore the hollowness they both must feel, and pretend they are happy that they are together.
And today, I will pray even harder that they will look in the mirror and see who they've become, and then turn to each other and see who they were when they fell in love.
Today I hope they remember each other's smile, and the way their hearts danced when they saw them for the first time...
*I don't know this for a fact, I only know it in my heart.
But my parents? They hate each other*...
My mom is the oldest of 6. She's a wild child. In fact, her nickname in high school was "Crazy Maggie". Much to my Papa's chagrin, she had it spray painted in glow in the dark paint on the side of her car. She smoked pot and drank too much and had a ton of friends. This, I am sure, holds true for many of the parent's of children in my age group, (25-35) based on the time in which they were young.
My father wasn't far from how I described my mother, except he was a young, cool guitar player for a almost famous band. (Billy Vera was their lead singer) Needless to say, wild child Momma Mags met crazy cool Daddy Mags and they fell in love partying.
The had me about 2 years after they were married. I remember when I was really young (nursery school/kindergarten) we always had those huge bottles of wine on the top of the fridge-right next to my bottle of chewable vitamin C tabs. I also remember sitting on the stairs looking through the spindles as my parents drank, smoked pot and played cards. Of course, I didn't know it was wrong then, and no one ever hurt me. In fact, when I was little enough to NOT know that it was bad, it was fun...
I'd get woken up at 2am on a school night because it was snowing and my mom wanted me to go sledding with her. Of course, we only had an anthill of a bump to slide down and our sled was dilapidated, but I remember that night. It was particularly bright out-in my memory it's deep blue with white light from above; a full moon. I am standing at the base of the anthill with my Aunt (hee hee) looking at my mom slide on her belly face first toward me. She is laughing hysterically, a laugh not unlike mine today, and when she reaches us, she pulls us down to the ground and we all giggle. We make snow angels before going inside.
I also got to paint a rainbow across the entire wall of my playroom (which I remember as being the biggest room EVER) and had African frogs, tons of fish, parakeets (which my dad's druggie friend killed) a rabbit and a puppy, which I named Christopher Robin. All because my parents partied too much.
I remember that time fondly, actually. Because like I said, I didn't know it was wrong. I was just a kid with fun parents who gave me weird stuff that my friends didn't have.
Year after horrible year I grew up, learning that my father's addiction to alcohol was what was slowly killing our family. It wasn't until I moved away to Florida when I was 20 that I truly began to realize how stifled I was by it. Luckily, by the grace of God, my father is now sober and has been for 6 years.
It's funny. My whole life I thought that it was the alcohol that made our family sick-but it wasn't. It was the disease. The disease that still haunts our family on a daily basis. A disease that's crept so far into my mother's soul THROUGH my father, that she now displays hostility and anger even when she's sitting still.
And my father is impatient.
And my mother is stubborn and defensive.
And today, they will ignore the hollowness they both must feel, and pretend they are happy that they are together.
And today, I will pray even harder that they will look in the mirror and see who they've become, and then turn to each other and see who they were when they fell in love.
Today I hope they remember each other's smile, and the way their hearts danced when they saw them for the first time...
*I don't know this for a fact, I only know it in my heart.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Be Still My Heart
No, really. Be still.
I recently re-activated myself on a dating site that I was away from for a little while. Let me tell you-it doesn't appear that I've missed much. The initial reinstatement provided me with an email of all the people that would be a good match for me. My Gosh were they ever wrong...I tried to get some of the photos of the men to upload here so you wouldn't think I was exaggerating but, alas, most of them wouldn't work so you'll just have to rely on my words to paint the picture.
*Ahem*
#1 Grosso Marx: First of all, bald. Completely. Why would someone DO that to themselves? It's so disgusting it makes me gag. Really. God forbid he's got a mole or something on his head. Fantastically wrong. And also, his picture is reminiscent of "The Blare Witch Project". He's 34 and lives in my town. I hope I never run into him.
#2 Weirdo Wally: I almost want to write to this man to ask him why he chose a black/white picture & then colored in the eyes with electric blue. Freak. He starts his profile out with "Whelp". Whatever weirdo. Oh, & he's 5'5. (Remember, I'm 5'10) Also from my town. I really need to move.
#3. Pimpmeister Pauly: Pretty much right down to the purple feathered hat. Really. And though I have been told by several men that I'm a good dancer, I'd fear this man would try to charge other men to dance with me. (Hey, wait a second, that may work...)
#4. Hairy Humphry: (Has a bad haircut) Otherwise OK, but nothing special. His profile states that he's looking for someone who's caring, honest, someone who appreciates the small things in life & who loves to laugh. He's tired of games & is looking for a substantial & healthy relationship. Oh yeah-& women 100-125 pounds only please. Stupid Fucker. You don't care if the girl is 4'0-7'0 but she has to be itty bitty teeny tiny?! C'mon man! Have you THOUGHT about what a 7'0 woman would look like? And by the way? You're hair-it's ugly.
#5. The Man Of My Dreams-except...Yup. He's tall (6'3), stocky, has sparkling, laughing eyes & a great smile. His profile is perfect & he it seems as though he doesn't want to meet Lindsay Lohan type skinny stick girls. The problem? He's an Atheist. To which I scream at my computer:
"WWWWWWWWHHHHHYYYYYYYY???????!!!!!!!!!"
I respect everyone's right to believe in whatever God they choose, but my partner at least has to believe in SOMETHING. Ugh.
And as an ADDED bonus to this little nightmare, when I logged on to write this post, I had an email from a little man (really-he's 5'2) who apparently can't speak English very well:
"I am a hard worker, independent. I belive in honesty and true, so myself.I am very open minded. I l love to make friends. like to take care of others. I love to share life with someone who is caring and loving person.I love my family and friends I like to trave. I feel great to make people happy. I am funny -- give chancess to smile. I belive 'life is simle'. Enjoy it as much as you can."
So, great. If I choose midget boy he'll give me "chancess to smile" because he belives "life is simle". I'm not sure but he may have been trying to say SIMILE and is trying to convey something altogether different. Either way-I'm not in love.
Looks like I'm playing solitaire for a while. Which is ok. 'Cause with no one around, there's no one to see you reset the game when you're losing.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
A Lesson Learned In Time
Every now & then I like to clean out old drawers, organize what's been stored away & reminisce about the good old days. Tonight before leaving work I had a few minutes to kill & so I cleaned out my "personal" drawer. It's the drawer I put my purse in during the day, along with any book I've brought to read & bills I have to pay. I also keep a brush, some makeup, a toothbrush & some goopies in there. It's also the office pharmacy.
I didn't realize just how much had accumulated in my drawer since the beginning of the year. I found pieces of evidence I was saving for my big day in court in January (which I didn't go to), letters from an old friend, travel itineraries, a copy of an email that made me smile from someone I was just about to start dating, a card with encouraging words and this:
Judy's drawing of her family tree. The actual picture is much, much more detailed and does, indeed, include her whole family, and finding it today tickled my soul.
It's little things like this picture that really make me realize how fortunate I am to have the friends and family that I do.
It also made me realize that by cleaning out old drawers and removing the things I no longer need, that I can gain so much more than holding these things safe in a drawer. Instead, I'll keep the things I KNOW belong in the drawer and weed out the things I know DON'T belong. And also, the drawer is big. I have room for old stuff and new-it's just a matter or knowing how to file them and in what category they belong.
Thanks for learning me a lesson Judy...and for being a silly-puss like me.
Lunch Break
I'm my lunch break looking through today's news and came across this article about annoying things store clerks say. (It seems to me that this isn't what they are called anymore though). On the top of the list was "That's not my department" and "If it's not on the rack, we don't have it". Both are very annoying, as well as the others that were sited. What I liked about this article was the quote at the end:
"What's really needed is to get employees committed ... to do their best, even when nobody's looking or listening."
This is definitely the truth-about getting people to act appropriately and do the right thing without being prompted to do so and without needing to be acknowledged for every little good deed they do. I then started thinking about other areas of our lives the could benefit from this sort of thinking. Imagine how much better our lives would be (both individually and as a society) if each one of us lived well and did our best even when nobody was watching.
I know some people are intrinsically stronger than others, and that everyone needs to feel appreciated now and then, however why is it that it's now become a "What's in it for me?" society? Why is it that we can't offer the person behind us a coffee just because or help an embarrassed stranger pick up a fallen bag of groceries? Is it because that stranger isn't good looking enough or powerful enough and they won't give us anything in return?
The sad part is, people don't realize that they will give you something in return-they'll most likely give you a smile and when you look into their eyes you will know what it's like to be appreciated. And sometimes, they can't smile and are too ashamed or embarrassed to look back into your eyes, but I can tell you that when this happens, I personally feel even better, because I know that this person is more in need of a smile than anyone else.
Dancing like nobody is watching, singing like nobody is listening and being our best, even when we don't have to...that's what it's all about.
"What's really needed is to get employees committed ... to do their best, even when nobody's looking or listening."
This is definitely the truth-about getting people to act appropriately and do the right thing without being prompted to do so and without needing to be acknowledged for every little good deed they do. I then started thinking about other areas of our lives the could benefit from this sort of thinking. Imagine how much better our lives would be (both individually and as a society) if each one of us lived well and did our best even when nobody was watching.
I know some people are intrinsically stronger than others, and that everyone needs to feel appreciated now and then, however why is it that it's now become a "What's in it for me?" society? Why is it that we can't offer the person behind us a coffee just because or help an embarrassed stranger pick up a fallen bag of groceries? Is it because that stranger isn't good looking enough or powerful enough and they won't give us anything in return?
The sad part is, people don't realize that they will give you something in return-they'll most likely give you a smile and when you look into their eyes you will know what it's like to be appreciated. And sometimes, they can't smile and are too ashamed or embarrassed to look back into your eyes, but I can tell you that when this happens, I personally feel even better, because I know that this person is more in need of a smile than anyone else.
Dancing like nobody is watching, singing like nobody is listening and being our best, even when we don't have to...that's what it's all about.
Wed Nes Day ?'s
OK-here we go! Please answer the questions...I know you've got it in you, I've seen it happen...you know what to do, make me smile! It really does make me smile to see your answers in my comments-and yeah, I'm talking to YOU.
1. If a popular candy company contacted you to make their next candy bar, what would be in it? Extra "I Heart You" points if you name it.
2. What are 3 of the most stupid things you've done in the last month?
1. This is tough because I'm not a chocolate lover like many of you. I am sure that my candy bar would have pretzels and English Toffee covered in chocolate. The part that's usually a cookie base might even be the pretzel and then it would be layered in the chocolate and toffee pieces...It wouldn't be chewy at all, but rather crunchy and it would come packaged like an Almond Joy-broken in 2 halves so you could enjoy it throughout the day-and still have it be fresh. (I already know 1 of you is going to yell at me for insinuating it wouldn' t be eating right away)
2a. Shredded a fax prior to getting an "OK" confirmation-it didn't go through and I was left without the original to re-fax it. Duh!
2b. Sent a (company) package to my home address (by accident) instead of to my company's home office. (I can't believe I just admitted that-I did such a good job hiding it.)
2c. Wore my heart on my sleeve. I tend to do this on a regular basis and it's becoming an annoying theme in my life-so perhaps my 3rd should be that I didn't learn my lesson the other 6 billion times I've done it.
PSST>Don't forget to click on the "Post a comment" link below...you know you wanna...
1. If a popular candy company contacted you to make their next candy bar, what would be in it? Extra "I Heart You" points if you name it.
2. What are 3 of the most stupid things you've done in the last month?
1. This is tough because I'm not a chocolate lover like many of you. I am sure that my candy bar would have pretzels and English Toffee covered in chocolate. The part that's usually a cookie base might even be the pretzel and then it would be layered in the chocolate and toffee pieces...It wouldn't be chewy at all, but rather crunchy and it would come packaged like an Almond Joy-broken in 2 halves so you could enjoy it throughout the day-and still have it be fresh. (I already know 1 of you is going to yell at me for insinuating it wouldn' t be eating right away)
2a. Shredded a fax prior to getting an "OK" confirmation-it didn't go through and I was left without the original to re-fax it. Duh!
2b. Sent a (company) package to my home address (by accident) instead of to my company's home office. (I can't believe I just admitted that-I did such a good job hiding it.)
2c. Wore my heart on my sleeve. I tend to do this on a regular basis and it's becoming an annoying theme in my life-so perhaps my 3rd should be that I didn't learn my lesson the other 6 billion times I've done it.
PSST>Don't forget to click on the "Post a comment" link below...you know you wanna...
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Ding Dong The Dog Is Dead...
The Dog Is Dead!
Ding Dong The WICKED DOG IS DEEAAAADDDDDD!!!!!
Not a real dog, just a foul, wet dog smell that emanated from my desk region for days causing me to randomly call out: "Oh my GAWD! Are you KIDDING me with this SMELL?!"
And also to walk by Pedro saying, “It’s not me, is it?” and waving my arms violently to waft my smell to his discriminating nose. (It wasn’t me, I smell nice…really.)
Soooooo, the wet dog (or dead mouse-in-the-wall) smell is gone. Luckily. After a middle of the day shopping spree to buy Fabreez and an air freshener (which, by the way, smells so fantastic that I want to bury my nose directly into it) I found the source and extinguished it….
It was a mug of something I drank weeks ago which somehow got shoved to the back of my computer where I couldn’t see it…no doubt by the cleaning people. (I know it IS my fault for forgetting to dump it prior to leaving that day, but give me a break.)
So anyway, gross. And may the dead dog rest in peace.
Ding Dong The WICKED DOG IS DEEAAAADDDDDD!!!!!
Not a real dog, just a foul, wet dog smell that emanated from my desk region for days causing me to randomly call out: "Oh my GAWD! Are you KIDDING me with this SMELL?!"
And also to walk by Pedro saying, “It’s not me, is it?” and waving my arms violently to waft my smell to his discriminating nose. (It wasn’t me, I smell nice…really.)
Soooooo, the wet dog (or dead mouse-in-the-wall) smell is gone. Luckily. After a middle of the day shopping spree to buy Fabreez and an air freshener (which, by the way, smells so fantastic that I want to bury my nose directly into it) I found the source and extinguished it….
It was a mug of something I drank weeks ago which somehow got shoved to the back of my computer where I couldn’t see it…no doubt by the cleaning people. (I know it IS my fault for forgetting to dump it prior to leaving that day, but give me a break.)
So anyway, gross. And may the dead dog rest in peace.
Are You There God?
It's me, Maggie...
Sometimes I wish that I didn't have free will. I wish that when I had a choice between going home to my flannel PJ's and a good book or to the loud smelly gym that you'd snatch the thought of my favorite cuddle clothes out of my head and send me to sweat it out among the already beautiful people. (And, as a side note, can you make them look ugly while they work out too? Just once? Ok, I know greed is a sin, but who am I kidding? Not just once.)
Sometimes I wish that when given the option of whether or not I sleep an extra 15 minutes or blow dry my hair, that you zap me right out of my bed so I can look good instead of like one of those freaky crazy trolls with the wild hair. (Since you're God n all, you could use your zapper to actually blow dry and style my hair FOR me...in a sort of Jane Jetson "insta-do" way)
Sometimes I wish that when in the presence of a cute boys you'd let me see them as ugly. 'Cause that would make it easier for me to not like cute boys and easier to focus on better things, like world peace and puppies. (And, since we're at it, you could also make the cute boys look at me as beautiful and irresistible-you know, since you're God n all.)
And God, if you're still listening, I think you should know that sometimes I wish that when given the choice of whether or not to I should act like a grown up and pay bills and clean my house or to go play with friends or family that you'd super suction rubber gloves onto my hands and make me scrub and scour or that you'd glue me to my desk until my bills are paid. (That being said, because you're God n all, I should also tell you that what I really want to say is, "Pay the bills for me with your divinity and banish soap scum from the earth" But you already know this...don't you?)
And God, before I go, I need to tell you that sometimes, when faced with the choice of whether to be happy or sad, I really don't want to have to choose. I'd like to only have one choice. I'd like it if you banished sadness along with the soap scum-because really...who needs either one? Both are dingy, grimy things that build up until you can't take them anymore and then you have to scrub and scour, and then we're back to where we were before.
And as God, you're the best soap scum, sadness bustin' dude there is.
Amen.
Sometimes I wish that I didn't have free will. I wish that when I had a choice between going home to my flannel PJ's and a good book or to the loud smelly gym that you'd snatch the thought of my favorite cuddle clothes out of my head and send me to sweat it out among the already beautiful people. (And, as a side note, can you make them look ugly while they work out too? Just once? Ok, I know greed is a sin, but who am I kidding? Not just once.)
Sometimes I wish that when given the option of whether or not I sleep an extra 15 minutes or blow dry my hair, that you zap me right out of my bed so I can look good instead of like one of those freaky crazy trolls with the wild hair. (Since you're God n all, you could use your zapper to actually blow dry and style my hair FOR me...in a sort of Jane Jetson "insta-do" way)
Sometimes I wish that when in the presence of a cute boys you'd let me see them as ugly. 'Cause that would make it easier for me to not like cute boys and easier to focus on better things, like world peace and puppies. (And, since we're at it, you could also make the cute boys look at me as beautiful and irresistible-you know, since you're God n all.)
And God, if you're still listening, I think you should know that sometimes I wish that when given the choice of whether or not to I should act like a grown up and pay bills and clean my house or to go play with friends or family that you'd super suction rubber gloves onto my hands and make me scrub and scour or that you'd glue me to my desk until my bills are paid. (That being said, because you're God n all, I should also tell you that what I really want to say is, "Pay the bills for me with your divinity and banish soap scum from the earth" But you already know this...don't you?)
And God, before I go, I need to tell you that sometimes, when faced with the choice of whether to be happy or sad, I really don't want to have to choose. I'd like to only have one choice. I'd like it if you banished sadness along with the soap scum-because really...who needs either one? Both are dingy, grimy things that build up until you can't take them anymore and then you have to scrub and scour, and then we're back to where we were before.
And as God, you're the best soap scum, sadness bustin' dude there is.
Amen.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Words That Rhyme
I Wander
With faith like a child, I walk to your light...
sadly, I'm struggling;
trembling with fright.
When will You show me
what's meant to be mine?
I drink in the water,
it's power, divine.
I falter, yet follow
with words yet unsaid.
These thorns-a ring,
crown my head.
This pain will subside,
of that I'm aware.
I will not live my life
in utter despair.
Silently, now,
I sit and wait
to see what's in store;
to meet my fate...
~Mags 10/03/05
Don't Be Rash
I took the day off yesterday to go to the Big E with Mr. CM...
He's very handsome, no? ;)
He's very handsome, no? ;)So today I am dead tired, and admittedly, cranky...so, instead of going off on some bitch rant, I'd just like to ask a question:
When is it ok to show someone (who you are not related to or friends with) a rash?
I'd like to throw out the answer of "NEVER". It should never be OK to show someone a rash that you have somehow developed, especially if you contracted said rash because you are stupid.
Especially when the person you are showing is eating breakfast.
I guess the only time a rash exhibition is passable is if:
1. You are going to set some freaky world record for the ugliest, nastiest rash-then maybe we'd like to see it so we can say we have...(but not likely)
2. If I am a doctor. But I'm not a doctor, so please walk away from me with your skanky arm.
3. If your rash displays a likeness to Jesus, Mary or Joseph. If that's the case, I'd gladly sell your arms on EBay, hopefully to someone who lives far, far away.
4. The words, "This is the last time you're going to see me-EVER" come out of your mouth right after the, "Wanna see my rash?". Then, of course, by all means, let me see the rash so you can be on your way.
So. Since I didn't go off on a bitch rant...what's your answer? Is it ok to show a rash?
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