Imagine That

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ThgTitle$>This evening, while chatting over my triple shot frappicino, my friend revealed to me that her boyfriend is scared of me. I almost snorted whipped cream out my nose.

Before she informed me of this, I was expressing my pure and unadulturated digust for this lad. While he isn't a bad fellow, I just don't like him. Plain and simple. I either love you or hate you. Origonally, he was in the former catigory, but after a two, no make that three, hour game of Cranium, he fell into the latter.

To be fair, that was not all that provoked it. I find him a bit arrogant, immature and he insulted my very own sisters. Yes! The sisters of Porkchop! ARE YOU EFFING STUPID?

First off, insult all you like. You can insult Porkchop all you please. But not my very dear sisters. For they are the kindest, dearest souls you ever could meet. They will bake you pancakes at one in the morning. Yes you, evil people. Even after you liberally insulted her apartment.

Yes. My dear boyfriend of my friend, this is war. Not only do I think you are not good enough for her, but you insulted my very own flesh and blood. *I have a rather long track record of running off those who insult those I love. **Did I ever tell you the story of the youth leader who lost his job after insulting my father? ***Did I mention the rather tall, strong lad I punched in the face after saying evil things about my brother? ****I suppose you must have heard the story of the certain leadership figure who was left with large red handprints on his back, in the guise of a hearty greeting, after I discovered that he publically humiliated my brother. You ask how I can get away with such violence, well, let it be known that I do not look capable of harming anyone. Imagine the novelty of it all. Innocent little (at the time) blonde Porkchop, harming people! What a lark!*****

So, perhaps when this announcement was made with such reverent hushed tones I should have owned up to the truth and said: Yes. I was expecting this. Actually, I am relishing this. I love this. Or something a bit more hopeful, like: Oh! Scared? Has be bought a gun yet?

Instead, I raised an eyebrow and choked out a disbelieving: Imagine that, someone afraid of Porkchop.

*My career started by beating up the little boys at birthday parties. No lie. (It was well deserved, I assure you, he was hitting little girls.)

**I only physically harmed people who were capable of harming me back. So I believe a bit of credit should be issued. Other than the fact I am defending my flesh and blood.

***All physical harm is quite temporary. No one has ever gone to the hospital, or for that matter needed to do anything more than flush bug spray out of their eyes, or apply ice to a few welts.

****His wife had to come to me and ask me to stop. His. Wife.

*****I have given up on actually physically harming people. And while I knew it was against the law all along, I would only use that on people who were in turn, breaking other laws. Now I try to lean a little heavier on the rapier wit and sharp toungue.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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