Feelin (sorry for) myself

Oy.

I don't know why I like that word so much. Oy. Is it even a word? It's like saying "oh", but fancy like.

So, my grandparents owned a store in my hometown, Village Video. It was a wonderful little store that they literally started in their livingroom. The converted their house into a house/store. It was pretty cool. I remember thinking that was awesome, my grandparents owning a store! My mom worked at it, my grandparents owned it, but I rarely got anything for free! Maybe a candy here and there, lol.

I remember these drinks, I can't remember what they were called. Maybe astro pop or something? It had like beads in it, and they were THE coolest thing since sliced bread! And all I ever wanted was one. Of course, I never had money, and my grandparents wouldn't give me one.

Then this one day, I had enough money, and I got one! And it was a TOTAL WASTE! It wasn't good. It sucked. It was like... because everyone else was having them, I had to, as well.

I think it may have been that moment, subconsciously, that determined that I was never going to follow the masses. Masses are just asses with an m, anyway.

I'm weird. I love being weird. I am my own amazing version of myself. I am 33 years old. I love being alone. I hate being alone. I love puzzles and crocheting. I like awkwardly flirting with cute men, geeky men, sexy men, manly men! And I do mean AWKWARD! It's like "Hey, do you like pickled garlic" kinda flirting. I swear I'm going to be alone forever.

Ugh. Oy. Where was I going with this.

Right.

I am weird. It's honestly my favorite thing about me! And my eyebrows. When they're on fleek that is. Do the kids still say that - on fleek? Anyway... Being weird is so cool. I mean, who wants to be like everyone else? Do I WANT to be 5'8" and 115 lbs? Nope. Do I want teeny tiny feet that can fit in little barbie shoes? Hells no! I love my clown feet! Do I want big breasts? Yes. Yes I actually do. But I'll settle for my big fat ass.

You know, I was coming here to write today, to feel sorry for myself. I really was. I had planned this whole "woe is me I have no one" post. But I have me. And my son. And, really, at the end of the day, what else matters? I don't need fake friends who are only there when it's convenient for them, or only call on me when they need to vent. I need me. That's it, that's all.

The rest is just gravy! And I do love my gravy 😊