I've not been entirely honest with you.
Based on this blog, you might not know I curse.
A lot.
No, more than that.
And that I have a filthy sense of humor.
Like a seventh-grade boy.
Among other things, I snicker every time someone says, "rack", regardless of the context.
I know.
It's juvenile.
You're right.
But you know what else?
It's funny.
I don't want to go on showing you just the good parts of me.
The part that believes in love.
In the strength of friendship.
That part that recognizes beauty in the every day.
Don't get me wrong.
Those parts are real.
But, as it turns out, I'm flawed.
When I get mad at someone in traffic, I do, indeed, take a deep breath and say "namaste" to them as much as myself.
I will, however, sometimes mutter "mother fucker" under my breath on the heals of the first word.
Yes.
That's right.
"Namaste ... mother fucker."
It feels better.
Truer.
It allows my soul to speak ... and my ego to rage.
Because I'm not perfect.
I know I'm going to lose some folks here.
But if 38 years has taught me anything, it's that if you can't be the real You with someone, you're not a good fit anyway.
So here's my promise to you:
When I have an off-color image to post, I will include a jump.
That means you'll be forwarned, and you'll have to click on a link to see the potentially offensive material.
But I'm going to curse when I curse.
Because sometimes I do.
Deal?
Deal.
Good.
Let's do this thing.
I got some birthday cards last month that I loved, but I didn't know how to share one and not share the others.
I love them, but for different reasons.
The one I will cherish forever and ever was signed by my monkeys.
(here comes one of those jump thingies)
And the knowledge that my friends know me so well is gettin' stored in the ol, "love it!" trunk in my brain, as well.
There's evidence.
I think this jump thing is working well, don't you?
Based on this blog, you might not know I curse.
A lot.
No, more than that.
And that I have a filthy sense of humor.
Like a seventh-grade boy.
Among other things, I snicker every time someone says, "rack", regardless of the context.
I know.
It's juvenile.
You're right.
But you know what else?
It's funny.
I don't want to go on showing you just the good parts of me.
The part that believes in love.
In the strength of friendship.
That part that recognizes beauty in the every day.
Don't get me wrong.
Those parts are real.
But, as it turns out, I'm flawed.
When I get mad at someone in traffic, I do, indeed, take a deep breath and say "namaste" to them as much as myself.
I will, however, sometimes mutter "mother fucker" under my breath on the heals of the first word.
Yes.
That's right.
"Namaste ... mother fucker."
It feels better.
Truer.
It allows my soul to speak ... and my ego to rage.
Because I'm not perfect.
I know I'm going to lose some folks here.
But if 38 years has taught me anything, it's that if you can't be the real You with someone, you're not a good fit anyway.
So here's my promise to you:
When I have an off-color image to post, I will include a jump.
That means you'll be forwarned, and you'll have to click on a link to see the potentially offensive material.
But I'm going to curse when I curse.
Because sometimes I do.
Deal?
Deal.
Good.
Let's do this thing.
I got some birthday cards last month that I loved, but I didn't know how to share one and not share the others.
I love them, but for different reasons.
The one I will cherish forever and ever was signed by my monkeys.
(here comes one of those jump thingies)
And the knowledge that my friends know me so well is gettin' stored in the ol, "love it!" trunk in my brain, as well.
There's evidence.
Like this, for example:
And this one, which technically was a thank you card from a few months ago, but fell into the category of wanting to share it with you, and not knowing how to go about it.
And the pièce de résistance:
I think this jump thing is working well, don't you?
Does your husband know you've been showing us your "good parts?"
ReplyDeleteSilly Tom, he ENCOURAGES me. ;-)
ReplyDelete