Today I don’t want to talk about weight loss. I’ve been obsessing and need to talk about other things. Today I want to talk about butterflies and sunshine and bubblegum pink pistols that remind people of me (don’t ask… actually please do!).
I want to think about how much I love my nails painted sparkly red (China Glaze: Ruby Pumps) and how I don’t care that the ring I wear every day clashes with the bracelet I wear every day. I mean, if you whore out your best friend’s hugs in Tijuana for a bracelet, you damn well better wear it every day.
Today I’d prefer to wax poetically on how much I love my city, especially when it’s sunny (all two days out of the year). I’d rather discuss the fact that most of my clothing belongs in the closet of a seven year old and how I don’t care.
I’d rather tell you the story about why I’m terrified of geese. No, really, I am. I’m about 98% sure that all geese are feather covered Satans. Once, one of the biggest demon geese I’d ever seen actually chased and bit my dog. George was a Black Lab/German Shepard/Golden Retriever mix. That dog had huge teeth and was almost big enough to resemble the dog in The Sandlot. He could have kicked Clifford’s ass in a fight. That was George. And yet, the demon goose took him down.
Geese are EVIL.
I’ve really wanted to share that for a long time.
They’re pretty much the only thing I’m afraid of, except for rejection.
My ear just started bleeding, I just thought I’d share.
Don’t ever get your cartilage pierced at a piercing pagoda, you’ll never stop having issues with it.
By the way, as soon as I remember how to use my camera, I’ll be posting new progress pictures. Feel free to oogle me.
Geese. Running around the lake on my campus as an undergrad during the spring. Geese, I don't want your stupid babies stop chasing me and hissing at me.
I am terrified of all birds though. When I was a small child a pigeon flew up my skirt. Seriously I can't make this crap up.