I'm going to make a confession right here, right now. Okay, so maybe not right now this second but it's coming up. This is something I have never told anyone before. Not a soul. No my best friends, not the love of my life.
Not even my imaginary friends.
Sure, I make this sound scandalous but really, it's not.
When I was a little kid, I used to want to do commercials. For cereal. Chips. Fabric softener. Pretty much anything. I would take clothes out of the dryer and then act out commercials I had seen where they were snuggling their warm, super soft freshly softened and nicely scented blankets. I would recall lines from the commercial and think them as I pulled the clothes out and imagine myself in the commercial. Or I would sit there, eating a bowl of cereal and think about a cereal commercial I had seen. Even if I wasn't eating the particular cereal from the commercial, I would pretend I was and sit there thinking about being in the commercial. I practiced my cheesy cereal box grin and my fake over excited mannerisms while eating my cereal and pondering about how I would deliver my lines. I think that went on for about six months. I was really young and I thought doing commercials would be pretty much the coolest thing ever.
Of course, the thing that wore off the want to do commercials happened at school. We had fire fighters and a fire truck come to school one day at the private school I was at. They talked to us and told us stories. We got to play in their gear and check out the fire truck and some other cool shit. So after that, being a fire fighter was way more appealing than doing some stupid television commercial.
I don't know what made me think of the many months at my young age where I would think up commercials and day dream about being in them. That's a memory that hasn't been thought of in YEARS but for some reason, I remembered it yesterday. Last night, Boyfriend and I went to the store and got supplies to make S'Mores and got a board game to play with YB. We played the game for about an hour and then we set out for the S'More making. I was standing there with YB, toasting my marshmallow and then the memory hit me. It was a little strange. I wasn't thinking about anything particular at all but there I was, toasting a marshmallow over the flames and BAM! I remembered that span of months where all I wanted to do was be in commercials.
Now you couldn't get me on TV without a huge sum of money being involved and it definitely wouldn't be doing any crap reality show. I just wouldn't want to be on any show honestly. ;)
Apparently, I cuss too much. I actually don't cuss as much as I used to anymore. It's just something I do less of but when I get animated, heated or in any state where I'm letting a lot of emotion flow... it happens more than normal. I had some bot on Twitter pick out something I tweeted and I got the standard "Potty Mouth Alert" tweeted to me with my name on it. You know, so people would know I have a "potty mouth" and to stay away from me and my filthy tongue. I joked about it but then someone who follows me on Twitter replied back hours later in a private message saying that I did have a "potty mouth" and that I needed to "work on that." Of course, I responded, politely and without cuss words basically telling that person I didn't see a need to work on that. They replied back with a little snark. I remained polite. The next day, we caught each other on Google chat and Person felt it was needed to talk to me again about my "potty mouth" to which I requested the subject get dropped. Person went on a mini little tirade about it and so then my response to each thing had me cussing a lot and not really giving an articulate and mature response. Given that I felt the conversation was ridiculous and also pointless. Hello, do you not see the disclaimer icon on my blog? I clearly state that I say FUCK, CUNT, SHIT, BITCH, ASS, WHORE and a plethora of naughty, dirty and some times vulgar words. ;) Anyway, the last of the "conversation" went like this.
Person: "MY POINT IS THIS! Stop cursing, it's a dirty habit. Do you kiss your boyfriend with that dirty mouth?"
Me: "Cussing is so not the dirtiest thing I do with my mouth."
Person: "Oh ugh. Come now and answer me, you kiss your man with that dirty mouth? It's not lady like to talk that way!"
Me: "I kiss my boyfriend after his cock has been in my mouth. You think cussing is more dirty than that?"
Person: "That... I... Wow. I do not know what to say to that. I don't think 'lady like' is a term that would ever apply to you."
Me: "Nope, it sure fucking isn't. *grin*"
Person: "I think I am wasting my time here."
Me: "Definitely. Now, will you please drop this bullshit like I asked already?"
Person: "Could you ask in a polite manner?"
Me: "I SAID PLEASE. Sheesh."
Person: "::shakes head:: You had to have been a man in another life."
Me: "More than likely. Look, you don't have to talk to me and you don't have to read my blog or follow me on Twitter. If you don't like the way I say what I say, then too damn bad. I'm not changing that for you or anyone else."
Then we had a mini debate about how Person really likes my blog and finds me overall amusing but just doesn't prefer the language I use. Again, I say that's too bad. I write what I want how I want and you can either take it or leave it. I don't mind either way honestly. "I've got a bad mouth but I do good things with it."
I'm already thinking about what to post about tomorrow. I've sucked at updating lately due to lack of time spent online. Due to being busy spending all my time at work and hanging out with my guy before he leaves. Also due to the internet sucking huge ape balls and not working most of the time when I'm actually home. So I have much I want to post about. What to do for tomorrow. Sex stuff? Tits? Dreams? Cotton candy rant? More memories? Boohooing about Boyfriend leaving Friday? Work stories? Bitching? Pictures? Hypothetical scenarios? Hmm.. So many choices.
Last but not least...
This song is pretty much one of my favorite Metallica songs. I love it. I've also had it stuck in my head for several days now on and off again. Which is okay. It comes and goes so I don't mind. It's when a song is consistently stuck in your head for hours and days that it drives me up the fucking wall.