Pegasus

A little taste of the ADD disaster that is my brain:

Let's starts with the double-entendre that dominates my life. That whole issue where I say shit that could be misinterpreted... or could serve as quite the euphemism. Today I seemed to be on fire when it came to this.

1.
Sometimes, it's unintentional, and I catch myself before making the situation any more awkward. Such an example occurred this morning, as I prepared my breakfast.
I love avocados, right? So the other day, I purchase two magnificently soft, huge, perfectly green avocados. Super tasty. Problem with that is that my dad eats avocados like normal people eat apples. I wish I were kidding.
Anyway, due to my dad's insatiable voracity for avocados, whenever I find some bomb avocados, I have to hide them if I plan on tasting them.
As I searched for the avocado half (which I had hidden in the fridge the night before) Mom walked into the kitchen. She was standing directly behind me as I joyfully exclaimed:
"My avocado is UNTOUCHED!"
Followed by an "Ew..." after my subconscious chimed "It suuure is, you nun."
Mom: What?
Me: Nnnnnnothing. I'm just really happy to see that avocado.

2.
Foot-in-mouth/double-enendre/AnoMALIE-ism part two took place at the gym.
This time around, it only served to prove I often need others to point out my... poor wording. Gentle teasing is the preferred method of choice.

My trainer caught me doing some extra arm stretches, slightly grimacing each time I'd pet my rotator-cuff.

Trainer: What's up with your arm?

Me: Too much violent hooking.
Trainer: Listen, I hear times are tough, but there are other ways to make money, young lady...

Me: Huh? ... Wait... Arg! Too easy...
Trainer: ... in that field of work...
Me: DAMN. IT!

3.
I can't place all blame on my family/friends/acquaintances for fucking up my sentences. I'm largely to blame because... well, I'm super prone to being purposely vulgar.

I was talking to my sis this afternoon about an inside joke I have with Kelley, about being "flavorologists." I was telling her about our talk about visiting a candy factory. Then we got into talking about working for said company.

Sis: You'd be like... fucking Willy Wonka!

Me: Only if his dick is scrumdiddlyumptious.
Sis: I didn't mean it like that, you fucking pervert.

And now for some images:

Haz caso, con un chingado! 

Seriously have not laughed so fucking hard in a minute. My brain seems to think in Spanish when I'm really upset... like when friends have plans sans moi (only happened to me once, in Mexico... but I have seen this happen to OTHER people... and let me tell you... fucking Meme is on point).

I had an unhealthy fixation with horses when I was in elementary school. I'd jot those motherfuckers all over the place. I'd find excuses to draw horses on book reports, chalkboards, Valentine cards, the inside of my mother's Jeep... everything.
I'd go to the library and ALWAYS check out the same thick book on horses. A giant green book filled with horse photos and their stats.
I checked that book out EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK. From first grade, until fourth grade--when the book suddenly went "missing."
Christ. I had a problem.
Anyway, the book helped me learn how to draw... horses.

The moment I saw "Pegasus" as an option on Draw Something, I jumped on that train, just to make sure my horse-drawing game was still on point.
Took me thirty seconds to draw... and while the wing is shite, that horse is pretty boss... thank you very much.


My brain's all over the place, folks.