Goopy Toe, and I have a confession to make. As I read the entry, I thought all petulantly to myself, “Why can’t I have a Goopy Toe?!”
Because, my friends, I am a squeezer. There’s nothing on god’s green earth that gives me more of a sense of accomplishment than squeezing something angry and red looking and having a big pile of goop shoot out.
(Insert mandatory penis joke here)
I am a total zit-popper. If there’s a zit anywhere within reach on my body, I’m messing with it and squeezing it until it pops. I’m RELENTLESS in the search for zits upon my bod. If I see a little bump that doesn’t quite look like a zit? I squeeze the hell out of it. Sometimes I get a lovely surprise and it pops. Sometimes it just hurts. It’s always worth a try, in my opinion.
When I was training for the 3Day last year? I loved it when I got one of those big, bubbly blisters, because I would pop the hell out of it when the walk was over.
My favorite zits are the ones that POP, not the ones that just kind of ooze out. If it pops halfway across the room, I’m a happy gal. If it oozes, I’m still happy, just not so much as when I get a geyser.
I suspect my love of popping zits probably comes from the fact that I didn’t have much of an acne problem when I was a teenager, so I didn’t get my fill of popping back then.
I’m a freak – I fully admit it.
So Fred’s been a little unhappy recently, because he was told he needed to go on a 2-day business trip to Washington, DC. He doesn’t like being away from home, and I was going to suggest that I go with him, but it seemed like a lot of money, what with tickets costing $500 apiece (I checked). Finally, last night he said, “It’s not being away from home I don’t like. It’s being away from you.”
That’s right, awwwww. He’s mine, ladies, and don’t you forget it. Don’t be making moves on my man, or I’ll kick you in the throat. Unless you’re freakishly tall, in which case I’ll kick you in the shin. And it will HURT.
I said “Well, it would be kind of neat if I could go with you”, whereupon he jumped up off the bed and said “Let’s check ticket prices!” After a lot of looking around and dithering with different airports, we found round-trip tickets for less than $200 each. And since his ticket and the hotel room will be paid for by the company he’s making the trip for for which he’s making the trip, all we’ll have to pay for is my ticket and meals. He got really excited knowing that I would be going with him, and went from down in the dumps to perky and happy.
This morning, he found out that the meetings aren’t in DC – they’re in Gaithersburg, Maryland. He was worried I wouldn’t want to go, but hell – I am ALWAYS up for a trip, even if it’s to Gaithersburg. We’ll be there a couple of days, and will hopefully hit some of the sights in DC. I could venture into DC on my own while Fred’s in his meetings, but I’m too chickenshit to do so. We’ll be there July 23rd – 25th, and then I leave for Maine on the 30th. I’m a happenin’, travellin’ chick, is what I am.
The spud is safely back from California – I talked to her last night, and then talked to my mother. During the course of the conversation, my mother casually said “They’re engaged.”
We had just been talking about the spud and California and how many new clothes the spud had, so I drew a blank. For several long seconds, I sat there, my mind a blank. Finally, I realized she was talking about the ex and his girlfriend. I was wondering when he’d get around to proposing to her. They haven’t set a date yet, so I’m wondering if they’re going to have a wedding the spud can attend, or if they’re going to go the elopement route.
See something on the floor? Sit on it. Actually, lay on it and cover as much of it as possible.
On our way home from Florida, I did about half the driving – which is unusual and showed me that Fred was really tired of driving, because I could probably count the number of times he’s ridden in the passenger seat on one hand. I was reminded anew how much I suck as a driver – at least when I’m driving a Jeep. I have absolutely no speed consistency. One minute I’m going 75 miles per hour, two minutes later I’m going 90, without realizing I was speeding up. Thank god for cruise control.
I also get really annoyed by those people who are driving the same speed as you are, if you speed up, they speed up, you slow down and they do the same, all for the apparent purpose of staying juuuuust outside your blind spot. I usually get annoyed after about five minutes of that, and stomp on the gas, blow them away, and then resume my very careful 5-miles-over-the-speed-limit speed.
Fred is SUCH a backseat driver, by the way. I usually ending up bellowing “SHUT THE FUCK UP, I’M DRIVING!” at least a couple of times, because he bitches about how slow I’m going, or I’m taking too long to pass someone, or blah-de-blah. Hey, at least I stay out of the left lane if I’m not passing someone. It’s a start, right?]]>
2002-07-09