Here are more things

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Here is my face.

I have hands and feet and other parts too, but I prefer to keep some things private.

If it's helpful in imagining the rest of me, one time a guy I used to bone described me as "sort of like a hot Gumby."

I was offended by that description at the time but then a while back I had vagina surgery and I walked a lot like Gumby for a couple of weeks so maybe he was just seeing into the future? He was describing my body, though, not the way I walk, so I don't know. Possible I was wearing a lot of boot-cut jeans at the time.

For the record, the bottom part of my legs are shaped normally, regardless of the type of jeans I might be wearing. And I'm not green.

Not at all like Gumby, really, I don't know what that guy was talking about.

I'm sure you were hoping for more from this bio than how my body was once inaccurately described, but if I tell you everything in this one little box, I'm not sure why you'd read all the other great stuff on my blog.

Plus, there's a lot you can tell from this picture of my face.
  • I'm a white person, for one.
  • I'm also a female.
  • If you look closely, you can see some grey hair, which means I'm no spring chicken.
  • I'm smiling with my mouth closed - could be I have eff'd up teeth or possibly my neck muscles get all weird when the corners of my mouth go up too high. Maybe both.
  • I might live in a house with a blue door. (I don't.)
  • Finally, it appears that on the day this photo was taken, something interesting was happening to my right.

There. Now you know some stuff about me.

Bye.

Y (chromosome) is this so hard?

The Hot Canadian washed my one white shirt with his dark stuff and now it’s the color of a Glasgow sky around 4pm (that sounds romantic, but it’s actually pretty gross). I’m super mad about it because I live out of a suitcase and only have like 6 shirts total and because that’s the one I like to wear when I’m feeling chubby. We’re going on a road trip this weekend and I was planning on an all-Dorito menu for the drive, so this is really a problem.

I’ve never understood why men have such problems doing laundry. You learn colors in Kindergarten. Maybe they all missed that day? THIS HAS HAPPENED TO ME SO MANY TIMES, I WOULD BE GRATEFUL IF SOME OF THE MEN OUT THERE EXPLAINED THIS PHENOMENON TO ME.

It’s a shame, because we were having such a great evening up until about ten minutes ago. I landed a new client today and he took me to this fancy ramen place to celebrate. (I don’t normally do ramen because of all the slurping, but turns out Scottish people are really polite with their noodle-eating, so it worked out alright.)

Now the Dramatically-Less-Hot-Than-Before Canadian is in bed feeling like a jerk and I’m over here in this chair being mean to him in my head (and sort of out loud to a bunch of strangers). He’s leaving the light on while I type even though I know it’s keeping him awake. I don’t need the light, but it makes me feel good that he cares enough to suffer.

Not sure what this says about my relationship skills. Or my ability to communicate my feelings. I don't have appropriate words to express this level of rage, so I’m sending it across the room in telepathic ninja stars, shoop, swipp, fiiowww. I don't know how effective or memorable telepathic ninja stars are, especially when the target is asleep. I want them to burrow deep in his stupid hot muscles so he never forgets how to do my laundry again.

Thankfully, I have a shitty shirt to wear every 6 days as a reminder.

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