I Can't Take Me Anywhere

It's true. I am exactly as I seem on here: a raging, stumbling, moronic fool. I act the way I seem like I would, I talk the way I talk on here, and I only edit stuff that would be embarrassing for others, sometimes myself, but not as often. (Side Note: Eons ago, I worked with a girl who told me she could just sit and listen to me talk all day because it made her laugh so much. I was very flattered, especially as she was a very conservative girl and I'm not so conservative in anything.) My little sister and I were at Goodwill the other day. She is not my favorite person to shop with for anything because she cannot leave a store until she has seen all their wares. I, on the other hand, skip all the wares that bore me. She could not possibly leave Goodwill until she has looked at every mother loving book they have. I get a tad bored, to say the very least. It's not that I don't adore books. I do. But I can scan and move on. When I get bored, I turn into a boneless heap whose legs become unable to support her weight and must drape herself over the cart to keep from dust mopping the floors. I wandered on and came across a Count doll from Sesame Street. It was love at first sight. The rest of the day I had to count out everything Sugarbowl got, even adding the "Ha ha ha!" at the end. She was mortified, especially when an old man behind me, who I had not seen, started laughing. She said he was laughing at me. I said he was laughing with me. The debate rages to this day.

Getting groceries, and, again, kicking myself for getting hornschwaggled into shopping with Sugarbowl, she would send me to get things off her list. I would grab them, find her, and see how far away I could throw them and get them into the cart. Princess enjoyed the game so much, she joined in and she and I had contests to see who could make the basket from the furthest away. Sugarbowl said I was a bad influence and next time she was going to leave me at home. GREAT! That is all I wanted in the first place. I also like to act like I am in the Indy 500 with the cart and pop wheelies and skid around the corners on 2 wheels. An added challenge is to have Princess hanging on to the end of the cart and see how well I can take those curves. I'm pretty darn good at it. We let Sugarbowl get a good distance ahead, then skid up as close to her as possible without touching her. Touching her means instant death, because her good humor dries up damn quick when I go into Indy 500 mode.

Leaving Walmart, Sugarbowl said there was a teenage girl who was checking me out, raking her eyes up and down me trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I'm so used to it, I don't notice it. I don't remember what Sugarbowl said, but it made me grab the bag of Oreos and beat her about the head and shoulders with it. She said the girl was very interested in checking me out until I beat her with the Oreos. I guess the public can't figure out the equation of Gimp + using Oreos as a weapon = X. It is a very perplexing equation, especially because the general public doesn't expect someone like me to have any kind of fun or humor in me. They expect dead wrong. Being a gimp does not make one serious all the time. No matter what condition I may ever be in, I cannot believe that it would dry up my deep need to be an embarrassing arse hole whenever possible.

Sugarbowl likes to tell anyone who happens to witness my mortifying ways that she doesn't know me. I like to contradict her and let them know that we are sisters and she is trying to be the mature one. You can't hide what's inside and I know she can be just as much of an ass as me. She's just better at hiding it. I can't be bothered with hiding it.