Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I am sorta embarrassed.
I have a tiny little confession to make: I "think" that no one reads my blog. I think I have to. Trust me, if I don't dribble a stream of consciousness when I write - you know, if I actually TRY to write as if someone is reading it - it is horribly drab.
My neighbor just informed me that I didn't do enough inputs on my blog. I was like, "You READ it?!"
I hope it doesn't go to shit now. THANKS April. ;) Remind me to bring you some Gladcorn to try. (Oh, and I will forgive you for asking me if I used to be a lesbian in a past life because I used to roll my own cigarettes. Heck, I don't even smoke anymore.)
OK. So while I come up with really wonderful things to blog about here are some funny little eCards from someecards to chuckle over. I am not ashamed that I stole them from my friend Rebecca's uber-cool blog. I would do it again. My sister-in-law is looking for a type of "baby" announcement to send to her friends... to welcome her new boobs. Maybe I can find it there.
Oh hey... Speaking of my sister-in-law's boobs...
She wrote my husband to tell him she is doing it, and his reply "Oh good, I never thought guys stared at my sister's chest enough." OH, I do love that man. Still makes me laugh like crazy after 7 years.
Speaking of boobs....
Such a big dilemma. Would I or wouldn't I? Do I really want guys to stare at my chest? I mean, I never had anything there, really. OK, maybe enough for the random street-dude to check me out, but that never made me feel empowered. Part of me thing this might be a good distraction - why not have a greater advantage when trying to get something? Then, I think, will anyone ever take me serious with a full-D rack with tits up to my chin? I can just hear it... "I DO take you seriously honey... You and your BA-ZOOM-BAS!" Sure, it would be nice to fill in clothes, but then when something happens like this Monday when I was gardening in the back alley and some flashback from the seventies with a big mullet driving a white van (listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd) stops to check me out, I think notsomuch.
To Boob or Not to Boob. What a dilemma.