My Very First

I haven't really tried blogging before - or rather, I have, but there weren't... er, too many responses. But as I wandered through the muggy air of Alabama, I thought, who really cares? If I simply want to ramble on about some nonsense, I have a right to.

Today, I sat and watched the show "Tosh.0", and it featured a scrawny, WOW (World of Warcraft, which pretty much everyone is aware of) freak who threw a huge temper tantrum because his mother deleted his WOW account. I couldn't really believe it so I took the liberty of youtubing it myself.

That kid is hilarious. Think about when you get angry, and it boils to your skin and you don't know what to do, so you just start writhing on the floor or something. Okay, maybe it isn't as extreme as that kid took it (he also tried shoving a remote up his butt), but it made me think, "Wow, I feel the same half the time." Here's a big question mark about my insanity.

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Also, a have this huge-girlie crush about Gabriel Heinze, a soccer player - he was on the Argentine team for soccer in the Fifa World Cup. I remember, before they got eliminated by the Germans (Grrr!), I would sit there and stare at Heinze, that special number 6 on his jersey, and totally space out. My sister was like, "Drool much?" I proceeded to explain to her that I wanted to marry him and bear his children.

Of course, once it was set in my mind that I had a crush on him, I internet-stalked him and figured out how old he was, who his wife was, who his children were, etc. Call it stalking, eh, who cares. His wife is the tall, leggy kind. We all know what that's like. I joined this chatroom, and they all were saying things like, "Why do they ALWAYS have to MARRY MODELS?! CAN'T THEY MARRY... ME?" One person said, "I'm hotter than her."

I have no illusions about myself. Look, I do what I have to. But I'm not going to run around the internet saying I'm hot. 'Cause seriously, beauty is subjective. We all have our own definitions of beauty. The way I see it is a lot of people think, "I'm going to play up how I look, since who will know, right?" Oh, my lips are pouty, my body is petite, lush with curves with a small waist leading down to a swell of hips. And my hair is so flowy, tumbling mahogany, silky, smooth, cascading, yadda-yadda.

Ridiculous.

I've tried to see what it's like to walk into your neighborhood Wal-Mart and put on that half-amused, half-bored look some girls seem to master, so it automatically seems like you're saying to the other girls, "Oh, you're so naive, look at me, I'm gorgeous." I just can't. Seriously, I walk into Wal-Mart with a sloppy ponytail, gym shorts and a baggy t shirt, so obviously I'm not trying to look better than anyone. But there is always the b-word with her short skirt, tanned legs, and golden blonde hair who's on a mission to 'out' you.

For example:

One morning, I had to run over to Wal-Mart for a jug of milk. I had no make up on, and I wasn't really worried about what others would think about me. As I walked to the check out line, there was this petite beauty glaring at me, as if something said in her brain, "Another girl with a functional vagina! Must... let... her... know... that were are... more beautiful than her!" Look, I notice you, and I notice that you are more made-up than I am. Who cares if that cutie with the swimming trunks is looking at us? It is truly not a competition.

Blondie proceeded to pout her lips and stick out her chest, giggling with her friends. I made no attempt to strike back with my own throaty laughs and coy smiles. The whole time I'm wondering, "Why is it a contest?"

The cutie with the swimming trunks did, of course, flirt her up.

I understand that half of this did not make sense, but that's alright. I'm rather short on time and will attempt to update soon, maybe organize my thoughts more. This was... hmm how do they say it? A pilot blog, to see how this thing works.

Tomorrow I'll probably be sitting in my room reading Laurel K. Hamilton and her kinky sex books. You'll soon find I have a drab, drab life. Why not go to the beach, you ask? Two words - OIL SPILL!

Talk to ya'll later!