I have a sweater with a skeleton printed on it. It’s awesome. I work with children. They’re pretty awesome too. There is a child that I work with that calls skeletons, “shaky bones.” He frequently refers to me as “Teacher shaky bones.” It’s cute in a weird way.  

I didn’t know an appropriate place to keep this. So, the creepy valentine cartoon is on my fridge. Hopefully no one will get the wrong idea about me…

This is pretty much how I see the world. In case you were wondering. 

This is what happens when I’m unsupervised. 

I woke up one morning about a month ago very alarmed. Someone was spooning me, even though I was certain that I’d gone to bed alone. Investigation proved that I had indeed gone to bed alone, but the laundry pile that had started a week previous had grown. It was now bigger than me, and had developed feelings for me. Ergo, Laundry is boyfriend.

I’m prone to wander off into the darker portion of my brain periodically. Hence, the lack of updates. I find that when I get into these funks, my brain allows me to rationalize the most ridiculous and pathetic demonstrations of sadness. 

I have no reason to lie to you, internet. Being sad doesn’t happen to me frequently. But when it does, it kicks my ass and makes me stunningly socially inept. …More than usual. 

I think that I am a very large person trapped in a small person’s body. Whenever I’m eating something that is too big, I don’t think about cutting it into smaller more manageable pieces.

I try to unhinge my jaw and continue eating. 

…Works for some people.

Concerning as it is, I do hear the music from “Kill Bill” every time I’m sent into a momentary upset. 

I’m at that age where everyone I went to school with is starting to make thier own families. Which I’m happy for. Good for you if that’s what you want. But it’s at the point wehere the mama’s to be get condescending enough to pat me on the shoulder and let me know that I still probably have lots of good eggs left in me. Also, never try to tell me that childbirth is a beautiful thing. If you made the baby, it could be the happiest day of your life. You created life; Well done you! If you had no part in procreating? You’re watching a bloodbath as the circle of life ruins another woman’s lower half. Logical conclusion, let’s respawn via chest bursters

Seriously. The downside to my parents was that they tended to give things strange names. My first cat was named “Spliff” and our dog was named after a Yugoslavian dictator.

“Depression”

I only even feel comfortable posting this as I no longer feel like my heart is going to drop out of my butt and I can con myself into getting out of bed. I promise, I’m ok now. Scout’s honor!