Is this song by Pink? I think it's Pink. Do I even like Pink?
If I put on mascara right now, it's a guarantee that someone will come in the store when I only have one eye done, rendering me the one-eyed wonder
Maybe I do like Pink
Am I hot enough to turn on the A/C? I'm not actually sweating yet
No one's walked by for a while, maybe it's safe to start Operation Mascara
I wonder if makeup really makes us look better, or if we're just so used to how we look in makeup that we think it looks better
If it does actually make us look better, score one for girls, because you guys have nothin'
Aww man, of COURSE someone is coming in right now! Unbelievable
Oh good, it's just the mail lady, she'll be too busy complaining to notice my lack of left eye lashes
This is the most confusing rant I have ever heard, I think she is saying her manager has given her too MANY hours in which to complete her deliveries on this route...
I need to change the dress on that mannequin stat
Yes, mail lady is definitely telling me that she has proven to the higher ups that her route takes less time than what they have given her to do it in...I still am failing to see why this is a problem
Definitely A/C time, starting to feel like a sauna in here
Is this song lyric saying I want to taste all the chemicals inside? That can't be healthy
Do most people use their dominant hand for all eye makeup application? Or do they use right hand on right eye and left hand on left eye?
Ooh, Kings of Leon, much better
I need to change my voicemail to be more like the one I heard the other day: "hey, this is Mr. X, sorry I missed your call, leave me a message if you'd like, OR you can send me a text, that seems to be the best way to get a quick response". Genius! I hate voicemail
Is this dress too short? I think it's definitely too short for 28. Wow, when did I start thinking that way?
I hate almost nothing more than hurting people's feelings
Fire ants, I do hate those more I think. It's at least a tie
Ha, if I had to choose one, being bitten by fire ants for a good portion of every single day, or hurting someone's feelings every day, I wonder which it would be?
I think I'd start getting immune to both after a while. so maybe it's a bad question. OR, maybe extended exposure to fire ant poison would kill me, thus rendering the entire experiment moot
Doubt it, those suckers aren't taking me down like that
Maybe I should start carrying ant poison around in my car with me, and every time I see a hill, just wage war right then and there
Is that one of those things that would make me endearing, lovably eccentric, or just plain weird?
After reading this post, you may advise me to go back to my old plan of NOT blogging :)
WHY: I think I forgot how to type. My shoulder is injured. My keyboard is dirty. Typepad won't let me login. I didn't pay Typepad to renew my blog because I wasn't sure that I wanted to keep writing ever-increasingly lethargic posts. I thought I'd miss it more if I stopped. I am a terrible commenter and didn't want to run around commenting on 87 different blogs per day because it took me way too long and started to feel like a job requirement. I don't like blogging politics and internet cliques. No one wants to see pictures of Lydah every single day. I got really busy. My keyboard is REALLY dirty.
But guess what?
WHAT: Separated from writing for long enough, I did start missing it. And I have been reading blogs again, sans commenting. I even got up the nerve to open my long-neglected feed reader the other day, and went ahead and marked everything read and now you know what I do? I just read the ones I feel like reading. No pressure! How about that?
AM WEIRD: Look, I realize that I am possibly the only person any of us know who is neurotic enough to self-impose all these regulations and requirements on what is, 100%, a hobby. But there it is.
I'm neurotic! And my keyboard is gross!
IN CONCLUSION: But I'm back. I paid Typepad, I cleaned my keyboard. And I'm giving myself a break as far as my self-inflicted blogging guilt. 14 posts in 28 days. Count it. OH LOOK, IT'S LYDAH, AFTER ALL: