Thursday, March 29, 2012

kindred spirits

Sometimes I feel like other bloggers are inside of my head.  Like they really know me.  Like I could just hop over to their house and we would instantly become BFFs and have funsies all the time.  Also, I should probably stop writing blogs that make me sound like a crazy person.

Here are some examples.

Excerpt One:  My sweats.

I sweat an embarrassing amount, both in real life and even more so in my gym life. Sometimes I’ll get done with a workout and look at myself and be like, “What happened to you? Where have you been, and why do you look like you’ve been attacked by a hose used to put out fires?” Luckily, gyms provide you with the perfect means to hide your sweat – namely towels, and lots of them. Towels allow you to turn your disgusting sweatiness into a beautiful and unique towel dress, pantsuit, blouse or head wrap, and free you to parade around the gym displaying your design with confidence.  

Found via HelloGiggles.  Any one who is unfamiliar with my very classy sweating habits, let me break it down for you.  One morning, I walked my dogs.  It was a summer morning and it was hot, okay? When I returned, I was greeted by my FMIL.  She just looked at me and said, "..You sweat a lot, huh?"  

Excerpt Two:  My dogs.

My dogs are also more on guard because they know that the Barbarian isn't here. This means they are bigger assholes than ever. They basically run around my house and growl at random shit happening 2 miles away. Obviously this makes me super relaxed and not terrified that my house is haunted/being broken into. That and they follow me EVERYWHERE. 
As a side effect from my a-hole dogs, I have been unable to sleep. So I'm really tired. 

Found courtesy of armywife-style.  We are obviously the same in every aspect.  Minus the fact that I'm not yet married, I don't have a baby, and I don't have a barbarian who will be shortly deployed.  However, both our dogs obviously are dummy bears.  And we share a deep connection over non-logical paranoia. 

Excerpt 3: Balloons.  They suck. 

It probably won't surprise you to find out that I couldn't handle watching fireworks until the age of ten (and I still hate them to this day). But balloons are worse. The slightest brush with the wrong surface could cause an unexpected burst. They're cheery-looking time bombs, ticking away to startling me at the wrong moment.

Naturally, my friends usually think my fear is hilarious. I once made the mistake of telling some coworkers about it, and they preceded to hide balloons around the store for me to find. (The one in my purse was a clever move, but I almost left work early because it made me so angry. Especially when it popped in my face.) 

Found via Lovelyish. I have outgrown my fear of fireworks, but balloons will haunt me until the day I die.  They are indeed cheery looking time bombs, just waiting to explode. 


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