That Chick (and Other Thoughts of the Day)
As I was working today, I noticed a recipe book for cakes. We all know I love to cook and bake, so it should come as no surprise that I started combing through it. To commemorate the end of Fat Week, I usually bake a cake or cook a big meal, it's my thing. Thing is, my brother's usually around to partake so I never have to worry about leftovers. When I got in my experimental moods, he was there to pick up the slack and give me his opinion. It was a win-win, I cooked and relieved my stress...and he ate, which is by far his favorite thing to do. It's times like these when I realize how much I miss him.
Recently, I was trying to find the perfect macaroni and cheese recipe to suit my tastebuds. Only on recipe was tried because I couldn't bear to eat the leftovers. So that's been left undone. Now here I am at the end of Fat Week with a recipe itching to be baked and no one to eat it. I'd take it in to the Bomb Squad, but I'm thinkin' that's just asking to be abused. The Goddess maybe but that's a lot of travel for a little cake. Maybe I'll bake it and bring it into the office, who knows...
Point of this is, I'm a "just me" kind of lady. Hence the name of my blog, duh. But I'm realizing that I'm just too good to be single. For some reason (and I've been told this, I'm not that narcissistic) I'm meant to be someone's wife (or co-habitation partner), I'm a keeper.
(Once we get past the rough, guy-like exterior, of course) I'm just that chick. That chick that can hang out and watch football games and know what's going on. That chick that doesn't spaz out when you go to the club. That chick that TELLS YOU to go out with your boys. That chick that has dinner ready every night (cuz she's gotta eat, too, not to impress you). That chick that's cool with being away from you for a couple of days and isn't afraid to say she missed you. That chick that will drive wherever you are without having to be asked. Quickie during lunch chick. Quick with the tongue and not easily hurt chick. That chick that will hold you down and not hesitate to tell you the truth about what's going on, no matter what. That same chick that can shut her mouth and knows to trust what you say when you say it. That chick that's on your level. That chick that can make you laugh. That chick that stays away the drama. That chick that is just...awesome. That's me.
Anyway, that's enough of the running advertisement that is the awesomeness of me.
Not to let the A.D.D. disappoint, I found my costume for Halloween.
I've gone 48 hours without using the term douche and I must say, things are looking up. I'm finding other words to describe sad, rude, pointless human beings that exist only to annihilate anything or anyone they encounter and I gotta tell ya, it feels GREAT.
Now I'd like to take the time out to talk to all you narcissistic bastards that need their egos stroked to feel worthy of life. Remember that Kanye West song "All Falls Down"? The part where he says, "Even if you in a Benz, you still a n*gga in a coupe"? Same goes for jerks, a**holes, dicks and pricks alike. I'm unconcerned with what you have or who you know, if you're not a nice person, you're not a nice person. So if I'm looking at you like I want to crush your larynx as you're relaying some assinine story about balling out of control, take the hint and shut your trap. And don't lie, it's unbecoming. My mom raised me to have a great personality and, mouth aside, that's the thing people love about me. It's not my movie star good looks or phenomenal boobs, it's my wit, humor and reliability they remember. So I suggest you take a cue from me and work on that. There's a good person deep within so step away from the mirror and try to find yourself.
There goes my scathing honesty, one of my pitfalls. And I have no problem addressing it. 'Cuz I'm THAT CHICK, bitches.
Recently, I was trying to find the perfect macaroni and cheese recipe to suit my tastebuds. Only on recipe was tried because I couldn't bear to eat the leftovers. So that's been left undone. Now here I am at the end of Fat Week with a recipe itching to be baked and no one to eat it. I'd take it in to the Bomb Squad, but I'm thinkin' that's just asking to be abused. The Goddess maybe but that's a lot of travel for a little cake. Maybe I'll bake it and bring it into the office, who knows...
Point of this is, I'm a "just me" kind of lady. Hence the name of my blog, duh. But I'm realizing that I'm just too good to be single. For some reason (and I've been told this, I'm not that narcissistic) I'm meant to be someone's wife (or co-habitation partner), I'm a keeper.
(Once we get past the rough, guy-like exterior, of course) I'm just that chick. That chick that can hang out and watch football games and know what's going on. That chick that doesn't spaz out when you go to the club. That chick that TELLS YOU to go out with your boys. That chick that has dinner ready every night (cuz she's gotta eat, too, not to impress you). That chick that's cool with being away from you for a couple of days and isn't afraid to say she missed you. That chick that will drive wherever you are without having to be asked. Quickie during lunch chick. Quick with the tongue and not easily hurt chick. That chick that will hold you down and not hesitate to tell you the truth about what's going on, no matter what. That same chick that can shut her mouth and knows to trust what you say when you say it. That chick that's on your level. That chick that can make you laugh. That chick that stays away the drama. That chick that is just...awesome. That's me.
Anyway, that's enough of the running advertisement that is the awesomeness of me.
Not to let the A.D.D. disappoint, I found my costume for Halloween.
I've gone 48 hours without using the term douche and I must say, things are looking up. I'm finding other words to describe sad, rude, pointless human beings that exist only to annihilate anything or anyone they encounter and I gotta tell ya, it feels GREAT.
Now I'd like to take the time out to talk to all you narcissistic bastards that need their egos stroked to feel worthy of life. Remember that Kanye West song "All Falls Down"? The part where he says, "Even if you in a Benz, you still a n*gga in a coupe"? Same goes for jerks, a**holes, dicks and pricks alike. I'm unconcerned with what you have or who you know, if you're not a nice person, you're not a nice person. So if I'm looking at you like I want to crush your larynx as you're relaying some assinine story about balling out of control, take the hint and shut your trap. And don't lie, it's unbecoming. My mom raised me to have a great personality and, mouth aside, that's the thing people love about me. It's not my movie star good looks or phenomenal boobs, it's my wit, humor and reliability they remember. So I suggest you take a cue from me and work on that. There's a good person deep within so step away from the mirror and try to find yourself.
There goes my scathing honesty, one of my pitfalls. And I have no problem addressing it. 'Cuz I'm THAT CHICK, bitches.
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