Creeping Through The Cellar Door (none_too_subtle) wrote,
Creeping Through The Cellar Door

  • Mood:

Discovering another roll of quarters [edit...]

Weeeeeeee. Why sleep NOW, when I could be washing, say, bathroom mats and mine and Adele's mosquito nets, eh? Greaaaat. Back and forth on my FREAKIN' BROKEN-ACED TOE, I'm doing MORE laundry. I thought if I walked on it, maybe I'd get used to it. Ummmm. That's SOOO not working.

Finally made it to Publix. Mkay. So I'm wearing this little white shirt and a pair of $5 jeans Adele and I got at Rugged Wearhouse (they were so cheap because of these STUPID flowers on the back, which I promptly cut off). Plus I was limping from aisle to aisle, just praying I'd remember exactly what I needed (since my dumbass again forgot to bring the list). I get to the counter, and the chick says "I LOVEEEEEEEEEE those jeans! Where'd you get 'em?"


Which made me start wondering...why do WOMEN always compliment us on something? Every time I leave the house, if I run into a chick, she's gonna compliment me on something. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Is it because they're trying to make new girlfriends? Are women socially groomed to flatter each other, THEN STAB ONE ANOTHER IN THE BACK? hahahaha. Since women, as a whole, tend to be fiercely competitive, I had to give this one great thought.

Maybe it's true; maybe I AM a guy trapped in a chick's body.

The last three crucial trips I made, I was complimented on (a) my sunglasses; (b) the color of my hair; (c) my jeans. ALL by women (or specifically, college-aged girls). If I was all grooved up and spent ANY time trying to look good, I *might* say 'THANKS!' But since I spend ZERO time putting on makeup, trying to accessorize, etc. I don't get it. Really.

Which brings me to question myself regarding ANOTHER lil thing: Why do I ALWAYS feel it necessary to tell whomever compliments me how CHEAP IT ALL IS? Hahahahah. Sunglasses, then jeans, I commenced to tell both how CHEAP these items were (ummm...they were still DKNY and CK, so 'quality' falls in there DESPITE their being inexpensive). Er...I only noticed this about myself today. I cannot take a compliment and just say thanks; and I think it's because I either feel they don't really mean it, have REALLY bad taste, or are "just making conversation." Because hey...that's what real girls do. I'm obligated to respond, and since I'm not LIKE most girls, I get all confused with my testosterone-addled brain, and come up with something lame like "OH THESE? They were only $1.99 after I ripped the STUPID FLOWERS off the ass of 'em."


Hehehe hehe. Note to self, #131: Do NOT go in public after going an entire night with no sleep. EVER.

The freaky guy from Publix SPOTTED ME AGAIN, AND FOLLOWED ME UNTIL I LEFT. What's WITH that guy?! Every single time, he spots me, follows me and "tries to assist." Either I look like a serious shoplifter or he has really bad taste in women. I'm not sure. But it's creeping me out.

So I learned today that extra walking -- as a way to loosen up the ole broken bone -- is NOT a good idea. Now, it's SO swollen, and I'm having to prop my foot up. Ughhhh it hurts. Plus, I'm still waiting on stupid laundry to finish. Why I decided to do THAT, I'll never know. I really should be writing, but ooooo no. Clearly, I'm not thinking straight, so...yeah. I need a nap.

For the mentally impaired: It DOES read: "Dear Diary entry."

This would imply that I'm not soliciting comments, nor do I wanna hear your 'theories' if they're so discombobulated they make zero sense, or seem hateful. Mkaythnxmuch.

Roger, wilco, out.

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