I actually followed through and met someone locally who has read me for years last week. (Hello! grammatically atrocious sentence!) and Hi! Ashley!
She shared with me a conversation she had with a friend who didn't understand the blogging mystic who offered to give her a SOS text/call in case I turned out to be a freak. You know, to call the cops and shit.
I don't think I was a total freak even if I DID drop food on my shirt like four times. I have joked with my husband lately that I need to have a eating or eatin' shirt on stand by for all eating out outtings. Because dang it!, I drop shit on my boobage area EVERYTIME I eat. *insert drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot!* I'm not shoveling it in and strapping on the feed bag, for reals. It seems my boobs have grown larger than my ever present belly. Yep, Ashley, I wore those salsa and bean stains long after my Jaba foodfight with myself. Because I loathe doing the laundry. and my family asked me to change because I was kinda embarrasing them at the next food hoe-down.
Funny thing when you go into a blogging situation with someone who doesn't know you in an every day walking around in your granny panty existence. They know a hell of a lot more about you than you them other than the email exchanges. I was worried I wouldn't live up to my online personna though that presence is me but in quite quick bursts. One would say, schizophrenic spurts. I can slightly embrace that title. Because I AM my father's daughter though I don't really claim him...
Ashley, like I said or screamed out into the parking lot, "I'm so glad you didn't have to call a SOS on our meeting!"
You are even more delightful in person than in my comment section. *Insert a totally cheesy smiley face* Because I hate emoticons.
Speaking of SOS and reality vs cyber non reality.
I have found what I started as a play thing of lonely, stupid entertainment which turned into painful and soul searching therapy has since turned into a spotlight of glaring reality.
What once was free and open to share to faceless people, long ago turned into "well, I read on your blog..." in everyday conversations with friends.
I can no longer be free and open. Truth be told, I have been so superficial and stunted here. When some have said, "you are so honest and forthcoming and well, blunt....." This train of thought has been quite lost for quite awhile. Many people I know in real life in my hometown read this place and well, I've become quite embarrassed about what I write and how I feel because my subject matter is brought up like the lines of a patient/counselor confidentiality clause was somehow ignored. Wait a minute, am I supposed to provide this form before we speak?
Let's face it. I have written some heavy shit. Mainly for me. Believe me, I know by putting my shit here, out there and everywhere, I am subject for scrutiny. I'm cool with it. I'm cool with people I don't really know, who don't know me, tell me I'm fat, lazy and simply, I'm doing it wrong. I know I'm doing it wrong every fucking day. Thanks for cluing me in.
I spoke to a few other bloggers the other day about starting an anonymous blog where we can go back to being ourselves again. How refreshing it would be to let it all out again and be real again because let's face it, I am never going to be an authority on trends and social commentary. My style quotient pretty much left the building after the last kid. I now embrace Fall clothing ALL YEAR 'ROUND. I can talk hours about my white t-shirt collection. I'm such a thrill a minute.
Moving on from the heavy shit of first world problems (not) to Big Brother premiering this evening. Dang it! I so wish I was that fat-ass, clothed in entirely too tight lycra hugging the big great popcycle in the sky. I can't believe the pizza delivery guy won out of like EVERYONE? For real? If I thought cannabis was IV'd into his arm during this challenge then, yes, I would have said, "yeah, man." He was the front runner. I do know one thing I would do while camping out in his HOH room, I would be giving that man-child a massive hair cut. He totally reminds me of Shaggy and I'm so expecting Scooby to shoot out of the bathroom in the HOH room.
Did you see him winning HOH? How do you feel about AMEEERICKA! voting and helping the game out with Rachel's chant, "Floaaaatersssss, you better grab a raft!" and HOW could people not realize and recognize, Rachel's sister, like immediately?
I'm like all over the live feeds for the first time ever. Rich talked me into linking in since I'm such a freaking fanatic about this show and he would like to watch some 'manly' shows sometime the next three months. He so doesn't realize, shit is about to get real about how much I am clearly NOT doing in the house because I'm watching these damn fools. Why do I care? Why do I want to watch the douche bags brush their teeth? I think it's because I like studying the human condition. Because I am a voyeur just like the next guy. I at least admit it.