Taking One, Or Five, For the Team

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I will do almst anything for the sake of entertainment or a good story. Last night that included eating a large marble sized glob of wasabi. Prompting the comment from one of the wedding guests that "I had more balls than he ever would".

Unfortunately, this is probably true.

What I find quite fun and amusing is the fact I can be the proverbial red-headed step child. You bring me along because I am funny and will entertain you for hours, if given the chance. HOWEVER. There is always that slight chance I might say something completely offensive to the simpering guests, just to watch them squirm.

To these hardcore Baptists the occasional "hell" and "damn" is entirely unladylike. (Yes. I realize it is.) I briefly considered making a quick run to the Lands End store to procure the proper striped-sailor shirt and deck shoes that would have befitted the persona they were mentally labeling me: sailor mouth.

It was also quite fun to scandoulize the innocent by pretending my sister and I were incestious lesbians. After all, we shouted, men had done nothing but break our hearts! To round out my obnoxious act, I started singing, LOUDLY, at the top of the lungs for the waitress to bring our check. (I just wanted to make sure they poor guy had gotten his gas money worth of entertainment.)

I went home. I baked until 4:00 am this morning. I still have to ice the cakes. I woke up with a stuffy nose, bloodshot eyes, cough, light fever and matted eyelashes. I feebly slapped on some make-up and took some cold medicine. I sleepily drove into Starbucks WHERE THEY WERE OUT OF MY FAVORITE TEA. As I was balancing my way into work, I realized that my knee-high fishnets were no longer knee-high. They were now ankle high. Flapping merrily about my airy ankles why I was trying to walk in a diginified fashion. Rather difficult, I must tell you.

My dear sister. This is how much I love you. I ate wasabi for you, I will pretended to be a lesbian and I will baked all night. I will endure a rehersal dinner that is more painful that a sibling beatdown. I will party hard, Baptist-style, at your little shindig tonight. I will keep unwanted houseguests this weekend. I will smile prettily for pictures and buy some Visine for these bloodshot eyes to make sure your pictures look perfect. I will not say anything during the "speak now or forever hold your peace" bit.

This is how much I love you sweetie. Which, in my not so humble opinion, is on par with the moon and back.

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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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