Shiny happy people

Even as a child, I knew that I wasn’t shiny.

I’ve always had a knack for seeing the dark side of everything. I didn’t skip along happily, my ponytail bouncing. I wanted to be like the other kids, full of joyful exuberance, but that just wasn’t who I was.

Look at those people. So fucking happy.

Why can’t I be like them? What the bloody hell is wrong with me? I want to feel that power, have the ability to jump up and down without a care in the world. I want to wear a red dress too.

Meet me in the crowd, people, people
Throw your love around, love me, love me
Take it into town, happy, happy
Put it in the ground where the flowers grow
Gold and silver shine

They must all be on something.

You see? I cannot fathom why they are so damned happy. I have to make a snide comment, riddled with sarcasm in order for it to make any kind of sense to me.

Did they all drop acid? Wash their colorful frocks in prozac water?

Even when my meds are doing their job, I still don’t have any inclination to frolic in a meadow. I would much rather walk through a graveyard and feel the energy from the multitude of dead people who once lived here on this planet. They know the answers now.

Damn, that is morbid, isn’t it? Maybe I am more disturbed than I originally thought.

I’m not saying that I don’t feel positive emotions. I love my family and friends. I am blissfully happy when I awake to a fresh cup of coffee.

And a tar laden cigarette.

I’ll never be a shiny happy person. It is what it is. I envy people like that, who can see the bright side of things.

Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

Um….sure.

Taboo Topics: Pubic Hair

To shave, or not to shave….that is the question.

I haven’t done a taboo topic in a long time, mostly because I think I covered them all. But this morning, while I was chatting with my friend Cheryl, the topic of our exes came up. Somehow, we started to discuss (okay, I started it cause I am a sicko) the overabundance of pubic hair.

Before I lost the nerve to write about it, I decided to just go for it. Shit has been sorta boring around here lately. Like, where has my edge gone, my coolness? We have to talk about these things, because they matter, damn it.

My ex did not believe in manscaping his manly bits. Nope. It was so bad that I actually needed a sling blade to whack my way inward. I can’t remember how many times I had to stop mid fellatio to pull a long and curly out of my mouth.

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It was truly disgusting, I have to say. Very Sasquatchesque.

I wanted to remind him that he wasn’t in a 70’s porno movie, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He was attached to his pubes. Maybe he thought that they gave him strength and extra power to be a complete douche. I can only make an educated guess, of course.

I suppose it’s only hair fair for me to discuss the state of my own pubic hair.

Jinx. No way, as if.

The main reason why we even have pubic hair to begin with doesn’t make all that much sense to me. I guess it was protection from the elements back in the day.

But now that we have thermal underwear, why not have some fun down south?

I recommend a kangaroo or an antelope.