Dammit I have a paper to write, and my words do not shoot out of my finger tips when I am writing a paper! I have to compare three books all taken in the NYC subways. One was shot in the 30's, one in the 70's and one in 2009. It's an easy game and I would love to sit around and chat about it forever and a day long but writing about it is a whole other kind of torture for me. I realized early in that I was about to binge snack eat to dull the pain if committing to academic words on paper. Unfortunately I had not planned this one out so I have a tip for you. Do not under any circumstances mix the following snacks: raspberries, then a slice of goat cheese, then stale corn chips with spicy salsa and then a tropical flavored ice pop. You need both hands to type so scratch ice pops off the list of paper writing snacks anyways, and spicy salso at 8 AM? Not when 50 is around the corner! I wish I had a roll of rolaids in the house.
Great I just introduced two new ear worms to my procrastinating brain. I have the rolaids and the tums jingles banging around in my brain now.
Doh!!
Anyway, I hate the sound of whistling and my mother taught Matt to whistle when he was about 6. I thought I might have to kill them both. But whistling in the house is worse than outdoor whistling. I turn into a dolphin when someone whistles indoors and I swear I can hear that horrific sound bouncing off of every surface with my mad dolphin echo location skills.
Last night I tried to tell Evan the story of my mother giving me the sex talk. He ran from the room despite my cries of "This is not inappropriate!" but I am fairly certain he just used that as an excuse to leave the room, because he likes to flee from time to time. Let me set the scene for you: My parents brought me to college, I was 17 1/2 because I skipped a grade and I was also completely inexperienced and naive. There was a three day "orientation" for me and them, though it was all done separately. On the last night my parents took me to a nice restaurant and half way through the meal my mother put her hand on my arm, leaned in and quietly asked "Do we need to have the sex talk?" I said "No" and she said THANK GOD and that was the one and only time she ever tried to initiate that conversation. Thank god for Dr. Ruth.
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