You know how I have scattered thoughts?

For the life of me I cannot theme my blogs anymore…at least for lately. My mind is too busy *something we’ll come back to later. For example, I like hot dogs with my ketchup on toasted buns. And apples that are crisp like a granny smith, only not as sour. Or how I have this need to wear lipstick. Even when I bike. And speaking of biking, have you ever worn biking pants? *Here’s a suggestion. If you haven’t, throw on a super heavy maxi pad (the kind they gave you in sex ed/health class and at the nurses office when you forgot your goods). And before I forget-remind me to tell you about how I keep having dreams where I’m getting killed by Justin…

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If you didn’t know it, I have a thing for ketchup. It’s kind of gross actually…for most people. NOT ME though. I smother it. I smother it like it’s dripping out a gooey goodness as it falls to the plate for me to “redip” my hot dog into. And oh. Did I add that there needs to be the perfect mayo balance to make it extra good. Oh it is SO good. Toast that bun darling, it’s that much better. It warms the ketchup just enough. SIDE NOTE: my friend Jill doesn’t refrigerate ketchup. Quick poll–how many of my readers do? Here’s another poll– how many of my readers eat ketchup on your eggs? *raises hand… Of course that’s on the eggs that come out actually edible.

P.S. I’m back to failing. This photo was taken yesterday. Appropriately, my smarty pants cousin responds with this: “Sunny side up means you leave the yolk intact.” Really?! I had no idea….

Eggs USED to be my favorite breakfast. I’ve resorted to fruit… because there just ain’t no screwing that baby up. And cereal, which “lesbi-honest” *mmhmmm that one’s for you Pitch Perfect fans I have been known to screw up too. Damn this busy life.

BUSY- ashamedly I admit, I now have an app entitled Free Time. “What is this?!” you ask. Oh, okay darlings, let me tell you. It’s the next best saving grace that isn’t eternal (cue Jesus lover now.) Right. So I no longer use my iCal to schedule events and appointments. I now use Free Time. Sad- yeah. kinda. *I’ll come back to that too. Right now my fingers are moving too fast to stop… Is being busy a drug? Something to show us what we are capable of but giving us an excuse to fail while at the same time remaining numb. More thoughts from my man Donald’s blog here. Perfect timing, Yo! P.S. I’m pretty sure I’m addicted…

Oh yeah, breakfast! SO fruit. I love raspberries. Mom quit buying them though because she says they just sit there and I never eat them. So, today I went to Pinkberry. Guess what topping I picked…. *said in a sing-song voice. Darlings, you’re so smart! Apples though. Mom always gets apples. Not my favorite fruit, but most of the time- just good enough…like right now, I actually bit into a soggy part (which I hate)…bring on the crispies *you apple lovers know what I am talking about…

[entering serious soap box now]

I think God is preparing my heart for something new to me. Hunger-advocacy. Because confession time: I am pretty sure I am a glutton. For steak, and ketchup, and ice cream and cookies, and goat cheese, and granola bars, and fruit snacks and frozen pizzas…ahhh and chinese food, OH MY GOSH! *wait! this isn’t about me. It’s about him, and others like him… ps. this apple sucks! PLEASE WATCH!

Okay. I figure there needs to be purpose coming out of this post. Here it is. I am deeply moved for children living in poverty that are being denied basic human rights because of their parental income i.e. a right to eat a crisp apple without worrying that too much money was spent on fresh produce. In just two weeks, I have been bombarded with daily (sometimes hourly) reminders that I am blessed taking advantage of the blessings of fresh produce…and more advantage of the processed yuckies that lead to medical health hazards. What can we do darlings!? We need to do something…

[exiting soap box now with a prayer in my heart and a hope that you will help me advocate…]

Right. So better eating. How about more exercising…. how about exercising with some sass?? I’ve decided to take up biking. I already have a mountain bike that I inherited from one of my greatest heroes, BUDDY! It was his bike…and he loved it. I love it more because of that… Buddy was my sister-cousin’s husband, the one who was KIA in Iraq, 2004. I don’t write about 2004 enough…it was pretty comparable to 2012. Maybe someday….

Right. This bike. Damn- sometimes this scattered brain takes me farther than I ever intended. Hope you’re still tracking… I remember getting a bike for Christmas one year from my dad. Some of my greatest quality moments with him were on the bike trail in our neighborhood….but then I became a teenager…sorry dad. And then I never got on a bike again. Let me tell you, that trip to Dicks to just sit on one was an adventure a sight. Picture Lloyd Christmas picking up Harry on the “hog” and wobbling as he turned around. That balance…it was difficult, even if I am 10 years post-cheerleader/post-dancer… hah! That’s probably why.

So I needed to buy some biker pants. That’s what everyone told me at least. To protect the hoo-hah. The vag-ajjjeeee. The “chach”…if you will. That’s where an idea for the title of one of my “not good enough for a single post” posts was created. We called it “lipstick and chaches”. Because we were on a mission at the mall for two things. Chach protecting biking pants and lipstick.

Mission accomplished.

HAH! You thought that ass was big.. You better back it up….back, back, back it UP!

No, it’s big. But not that big. I don’t lie. There’s some “thing” inside of them. Check it out! Are you kidding me?

 

Ummm… what does THAT remind you of?? Dude! Scratch off the part above that referred to this as “maxi-pad-ish” …these are freakin’ “THAT kind of gift at a specialty story.” ps. they do not vibrate.

To unscare me from these “chach-pants” (and because I am fashionable when able) I had to at least buy a matching shirt. *which I am showing you to unscare you as well…yes, you’re welcome friends!

Check out that sassy shirt!

but wait! There’s more… (I spoke that as I wrote–and as you read it, I know you heard an infomercial tone come off your screen, if not, try again.)

THE LIPSTICK. Where Thug Life meets Sass Life. and where the words “Lookin’ good ladies!” ring true every time you reapply. (Which is only every 7.5 hours & worth the $26 that Lancome received as a result of this new “need” of mine…wait, what was that about hunger??)

ps. Aunt Yo thought my make-up looked great that day…smoking eyes *ahem, just woke up from a nap smeared mascara* and red lips..Sister-Cousin made it clear that “great” meant “working the streets for two nights in a row and just getting home.” Shoot. Must have been the chachey-pants…

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and there’s just no easy way to transition to this. In my dreams, I’ve now died twice and my favorite, Jus, is my killer. No joke. He was mowing my lawn. Hit a rock. Bounced off the house. Hit me in the head….anddd… beep. beep. beep. that’s the sound of me in a coma. BEEEEEEEEPPPP. now I’m dead.

Dream #2. He brings home this new girl. Family disowns him (because she’s only 18 and a previous student of mine). Friends have an intervention. p.s. she had bad acne and an unfortunate face. only in my dream though, not in real life. BANG. BANG. BANG. those were the gunshots of the three other friends of ours he shot. BBBBBBBANAAAAAAANNNNNNNNGGGGGGG! and that’s the sound of the gun that he switched to as it blew my brains out.

Me: Jus? Do you want me dead.

Jus: NO! Although I would laugh really hard if I was mowing the lawn and managed to hit you in the head with a rock only because that would take serious skillz. *yes, apparently skills is spelt with a z.

Umm…so glad that’s where that conversation went……. not. *shakes head*

and I’m out. Happy Friday Darlings!

p.s. that’s lipstick I’m wearing… and yes the pants too (though I was covering up the big butt with my running shorts that had to come off for the picture so I looked more hard core–crap. I just told you my secret. crap. they’re in my picture. And I’ll answer what you all are wondering just because I love you that much: MY CHACH SURVIVED!