Slacking Off, Catching Up, and Trying Not to Grow Up or Grow Old!

I totally suck at this 500 words a day (WAD) thing.

I LOOOOVE our group, and I am constantly inspired and impressed by all of the amazing soulful writing these totally rad humans produce.





Then I get on and start blathering about dildos and Jason Momoa and I feel like a vapid moron, so I cast about for something to write on the next post -- something deep and profound -- but, as it turns out, I am neither deep nor profound (also don't think I am a vapid moron, but that could just be wishful thinking).





So I find other things to do that make it so I am too 'busy' to post, and I, cringingly, jump on our group's page and read all the awesome things that make me want to write, all the while waiting for our brave and fearless leader (KH) to catch me commenting and being, like, "MARY, YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH US, YOU AREN'T DOING THE WORK).









Anyway, I have decided I am going to jump back into WAD with, like, 1000 words today and 1000 words tomorrow and then stay caught up at my day-behind status.  And that isn't an oxymoron or even fake news, there -- being a day behind (instead of 3) will make me caught up...to myself. Because neuroses, guys!!





Lately, I have been obsessively thinking about personalities.  My friends all have super diverse personalities, and lately I have been gravitating away from certain personality types and toward others.  Like, certain traits that I found amusing or stimulating or hilarious are now annoying and embarrassing, and vulgar.  And traits that I thought were dull or maybe a little intimidating are now intriguing and fun.





I wonder if it's a sign that I am finally mature?  Like, at 42.5 years, did I suddenly grow up? 

If so, well, it's about fucking time!





Honestly, I don't think I have ever felt like an adult in my life outside of work.  Which is very bizarre, because 8-10 hours of the day I am calm, competent, organized, efficient, and commanding.  As soon as I shrug off my (heinous) uniform, I immediately feel like the awkward teenager that annoys everyone at the family Christmas Dinner.  I get home and am, like, WHHYYYYY do I have to cook?  I'm tired, my feet hurt (probs shouldn't be wearing heels over 3 inches to work, but whatever), and my daughter is the pickiest eater alive, and there are 3 different sushi places, one ramen grill, and a Round Table Pizza within 5 minutes of here, sooooooo. 

Also, laundry.  I don't want to do my laundry....like ever.  Actually, scratch that.  Have no prob doing the laundry, but can someone please come over and fold it and put it away for me???  (Ask your moms, please, I will even pay!) Pleeeaaaassseee???  (also, if you could unload my dishwasher that would be great as well.  Very much enjoy scrubbing dishes clean and loading them up and pushing buttons to make the washer go, but have some kind of mental block about unloading them, so your assistance would be appreciated!)

Also, any time I type a word that has "ass" in it (see above sentence), I always snigger to myself 'har, har, just wrote ass!'

........just realized that it should come as no surprise to me, anyone that knows me, or anyone that reads this just WHY I am a total spinster!..... *sigh*





So.....yeah....guessing maturity is not the culprit for my persnickety ways, and maybe - just possibly - it could be something else....like MENOPAUSE (mental-pause!)?? 

Haha, I feel like I should apologize for this....vaginal dryness.  Kill me now!  :-D

FML





That honestly is not one of the life passages I am looking forward to. 





Retirement?  Sign me UP! 

Completely grey (well, silver actually!) hair?  Yessssss!!  No more dyeing, and I can put fun colors in it without bleaching it to the consistency of sagebrush!

Flowy pants with elastic waistbands and shoes that have 'comfort soles' in the description?  HOORAY!!





Hot flashes, irritability, memory loss, fatigue and diminished sex drive???? Step the fuck off, pal, cos I am NOT EVEN INTERESTED!!









Hopefully it is neither maturity nor menopause and maybe just a sign that I am looking for more out of my relationships than superficial fun.  Maybe I am at the point where I am starting to value substance over style, and I will end up with richer, deeper, more meaningful friendships.





ORRRRRRR, perhaps my reclusive ways have caused me to become boring so I am drawn to boring people.

I'm actually okay with that too, surprisingly.  Or not surprisingly to those of you that find me incredibly dull. There is something to be said for not always being loud and out there and switched on.

Except that I kind of want a boyfriend(more on that tomorrow).....and I am not attractive enough to be boring. My personality is usually what tricks people into thinking I am a 7 and not the 4 I actually am, so if I decided to become as boring as I often feel like being, I am pretty sure I will be single forever, which I am totally ok with.....except when I am not. Like today. And last week, last month, and pretty much all of this year. Since I don't actually know anyone that is compatible BF material, and I definitely would like to be coupled up by the summer (more on that tomorrow), I have to meet some unsuspecting dude and do my Jedi Mind Tricks on him so he overlooks the myriad flaws in my face, body, and personality, and get him to decide I am, like, The One or some shit like that.

All of that probably sounds incredibly needy and probably a touch mercenary, but I swear it's not like that. Seriously. DUDE.





I mean, I guess it could be. I could be in a massive state – like Texas-sized – of denial, how would I even know that if I was? Does anyone in denial ever really know?

But I don't think I am.





Tell you tomorrow.

Here's your apology.  You're welcome.

 

Day 1. Shooting my WAD at the Sex Toy Party

First post of the year.
Back on the 500 Words A Day bus (hence the title).
This one messed with my OCD.  
500 Words A Day for 30 days, would end on March 30, which is not the last day of the month.
If you want it to end when the month does, you have to start on Day 2, which is not right either.....*sigh*

My submission is below:

Why would I pay money to make my ass look like my grandma's couch???

It feels like all of my friends are in direct marketing businesses.

Leggings.

Lipstick.

Various forms of melting air fresheners.

Dildos.

I find the leggings hideous. Like, eye-searingly awful.

I don't wear lipstick. Lipstick feels too waxy and it ends up on my teeth and since people are dumb, I usually don't find out until I have run a thousand errands and talked to that hot guy I am too embarrassed to flirt with and that chick I hate at the mall and your mom.

I like air fresheners. I like nice smells in my house, but I am clumsy and I always smack into them and send the wax flying. Do you know how hard it is to get blue or purple wax out of tan carpet?

Dildos, vibrators, etc are all fine and dandy, but the parties always feel fake and forced to me. My friends, who are usually chill and talk about coffee and kids and existential crises and bills and shit like that are suddenly sexy minxes who introduce themselves and their vaginas alliteratively (that a word?) with stuff like, “Hi, my name is Jen and my vagina is Juicy”, or “Hi, my name is Chris and my vagina is Cute.” 

I can't even.

I hate everyone and all interactions outside of my safe circle, so these parties are agony.

UNTIL.

I am always “on” when I am in social situations.

I get to a party or gathering or whatever, and immediately ramp up the charm and humor until I feel comfortable enough to not sit in the corner by the snacks and try to find an adjective to describe my lady bits that doesn't make me vomit.

I decided on modest.

Which she isn't, but I am not gonna tell any of these suddenly saucy sirens any more about my vagina than I have to.

Inevitably, at the end of these various makeup, waxy smells, dildo, clothes, jewellery, whatever parties, the hostess and her mentor pull me aside and insist I am PERFECT for this kind of thing and need to spend $64000 on a start up kit so I can be part of the TEAM and make enough money to quit my day job (which I happen to be very fond of, so no) and go to conventions and seminars and conferences, OH MY!

Instead, I just spend $200 on sex toys or wax that smells like lavender or the ocean, take a brochure and slink out the door (hitting the snack table on the way).

The problem is that all of these people are now all over social media advertising their wares and their parties and I want to be supportive and help my girls out and buy all their stuff and help them be free of The Man, but I don't want to be broke in a houseful of dildos and ugly leggings with lipstick on my teeth, ironing wax out of my carpet.

Maybe I just need new friends. Or none.

This is just here to make up for the ugly leggings at the top.  You're welcome.