Sometimes I wonder about my importance in the world and how long it would take for someone to notice I’m missing. For instance: If I leave my home this morning, I could presumably stay out all day and all night and no one would wonder about where I am. It wouldn’t necessarily be strange for no one to hear from me as there are days when I’ve gone nowhere, spoken to no one and all was well with the world. How many days in a row could I leave the house and not speak to anyone before someone wondered about me? Three days? Five days? I’m not sure but I’m alarmed that I’m not sure. What if something did happen to me? What if I were kidnapped? Taken for ransom (fat chance but work with me here)? How many days would my family wait before reporting me missing? I mean I am grown, and taken to staying out with friends or a lover every now and again and I’ve always come back in one piece but still… Perhaps I need to seek out a designated person who knows where I am all the time so in the event that I ever went missing they could have the timeline down. Isn’t that how it works on T.V?
Here I am, laying in bed working myself into misery, helped along by the late, great Otis Redding. I love Otis, but for all of his sorrowful soul I could have picked different music to listen to. I can feel myself spiraling out of control with my rash decisions but now I’m coming down off my high and I’m starting to feel ever so sorry for myself. Anyway with that said I’m not normally in the business of feeling sorry for myself but I indulge in it every once in a blue. If it’s not family, then it’s work and if not work, then it’s love. And this time it’s love or lack thereof. Frankly I would like to give love a swift kick to the groin area for making life so tedious Lol. Ahhhh, alas I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. I’m gonna go bury my head in my book I mean nook and get myself together.
Signing off,
Woeful me…
It’s been a little while but I’m BACK to my regularly scheduled program of confessing my neurotic obsessions. I woke up this morning, hair looking wild and unkempt and that’s fine because I’m sleeping alone. Had there been an able bodied man sharing this bed with me I would have taken a little more care with my appearance and that leads me to my rant for today.
Why do men think its ok for them to wear ugly, tattered underclothing? I mean, not ALL dudes keep their underclothes in a state of disrepair but it happens often enough for me to have developed a pet peeve about it.
What’s really good with the 5 year old, faded, little to nonexistent elastic band in the waist, ill-fitting, cheap ass boxers that men wear and then expect me to be turned on? I’m not!! Take a little pride in your underclothes fellas. I’ve purchased new underwear for guys before because I was tired of being turned off when I saw their collection. But I don’t want to have to buy you a whole new selection of boxers. Like why should I? This is something that a dude should keep up with on his own. It amazes me how many dudes walk around Fresh with their outer clothes and then when it gets down to it they have on some worn, dilapidated under clothes. Socks looking like you’ve walked to the end of the earth in them, wife beater/t-shirt got holes in it, and unidentifiable stains. I mean Really?!
That turns me off because I feel it speaks to a man’s character. A man’s character seems stained and flawed if he can wear an undershirt like that LOL. Men always want women to put on a show for them in the bedroom. They like to see us in lingerie and sexy undies so why can’t we get the same? No dude wants to see his woman crawl in the bed with “granny” draws trying to get it in so I just want a little reciprocity in that area as well. Let this serve as a PSA to all men who haven’t purchased any new boxers since they got of high school. Get it together fellas for the sake of my arousal
Confessions of a Thinkaholic 