Another Reason I’m Going To Hell, Bizarre Word Choices, And Other Blatherings


I went to watch my niece, Dany, at her latest dance performance tonight.  Needless to say, she was adorable and did a rather awesome job.  Once again, I also had the pleasure of watching other dancers before and after her group performed.  There were the usual groups that ranged from those where all the dancers know what they are doing and the groups where the majority of the dancers had absolutely no clue what they were doing.  There was this pretty awesome big group dance that included some Beetlejuice tid-bits and the thriller dance and all sorts of entertaining stuff.  One of the best parts of the whole thing was watching one little dancer, standing on the sidelines, imitating every dance/dancer she saw.  Often, these copy cat dances involved her attempting to do a move on one foot, which almost always ended with her toppling over.  Truly, she was hilarious!  And then there was the moment that I am fairly certain doomed me.  A group of ballerinas came out onto the floor.  As they filed out, someone sitting near me whispered something about never seeing such a chubby ballerina or something like that.  Now, before I explain my whole evil thought thing, I would like to point out that this was not a group of little girls, this was a group of teens.  Not that it helps, but my evil thought bit was NOT aimed at some poor 7 year old child.  This young lady looked to be at least 13 or 14.  And, also in my defense, I cannot stop my brain from thinking whatever the hell it wants to think.  So anyway, this girls is out there, being WAY braver than I could ever be, wearing this skin-tight top thingy and a tutu, and she is a large girl.  Now, I don’t mean she looked large because the outfit was horribly unflattering, which happens a lot.  She was genuinely a fluffy sort of gal.  And as I watched her trying (and failing) to do the ballet moves, my mind pops up a picture that WILL NOT GO AWAY!

That’s right, the hippo in Fantasia.  Then, appallingly, I found myself thinking, “Actually, the hippo was way more graceful than this girl.”  I know, I am a terrible person and I am totally going to hell for thinking such heinous thoughts.  If it helps any, I thought the exact same thing about myself when I caught a glimpse of myself doing that Tae-Bo workout (NEVER do stuff like that anywhere near a mirror).  Considering I ceased doing Tae-Bo the same day I saw myself, I will reiterate that this girl is way braver than I will ever be, and I totally respect her self-confidence.  It is not my fault my brain kept thinking evil thoughts.  And I totally apologize for its behavior.

While recently perusing a little handbook type thing offered by my employer, I stumbled across something downright bizarre.  They actually utilized the terminology ‘bomb-diggity’ in this thing!  Now, it’s bad enough that they blathering on about how awesome and such they are, and how generous and caring they are toward their employees, I mean, obviously we know they’re full of shit.  For god’s sake, we work for them, we know they don’t give a single shit about us.  Do they think we’re going to believe that bullshit?  But their attempt to use language they think will somehow strike us peons as cool and amusing and all that, that is just pathetic.  Besides, who the hell says bomb-diggity anymore?

Randomosity:  Once again, I had a WTH moment at work the other night.  Cuz who the hell steals $1 rubber glow in the dark toy dog poop????  Seriously?  Not only is it a frickin’ dollar, it’s toy dog shit people!  The sad thing?  I can’t even assume it was a kid, seeing as how we have adult customers that I could totally see doing this.  God I hate people.  I just don’t think I could ever punch myself in the face and give myself a black eye in order to convince folks I was bonkers.  It’s totally a bummer that I can’t wear contacts, since all the best zombie make up includes special effects contacts, so I probably couldn’t play a walker/zombie.  A true loss to the zombie entertainment world.  Every time I see one of those Bob Ross art kits for sale, especially the ones with the videos, I think ‘I could totally do that!’  Then I remember that I can’t draw a believable stick figure and that any attempt I would make at painting happy trees would end in sadness.  My head feels like my scalp is going to tear in half or something.  I can practically hear my stitches pulling every time I move my head.  I sure hope my little buddy Tien is feeling better.  I’m so glad I get to work with Krystal tomorrow (technically, today…whatever).  On one hand, I would be totally proud of Zaya if he went into the military, on the other hand, I probably smash one of his knees if necessary to keep him from ever being shot at.  Does anyone else think the ooma commercial is a tad creepy?  You know, the one with the computer oohing and such while the guy pushes buttons?  Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beeteljuice!  I think Dany liked her grandma Betty bear, I hope so anyway.  Don’t think Caron much liked the hats, but it’s okay, I made them a couple years ago and I don’t think they turned out as well as I would have liked.  Besides, lots of folks don’t want the plain sorts of hats I can make.  They’re not all spiffy or schnazzy or anything.  And a lot of folks don’t like to wear hats, since they don’t want to mess up their hair.  Not something I really worry about all that much, obviously.

Peace out girl scout!


2 thoughts on “Another Reason I’m Going To Hell, Bizarre Word Choices, And Other Blatherings

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