Know what works fucking miracles when it comes to clearing my mind?
Cleaning.
Cleaning gets the job done SO wonderfully, that I start behaving like I just received a lobotomy.
My communication skills are subpar, at best, on my good days... but once I get in my Mexican-cleaning-lady mode, I don't even bother to formulate THOUGHTS.
Alls I know is:
My fingertips hurt like a motherfucker.
I have five papercuts that came out of nowhere...
But I know they're there once I get windex in those shits... or Sriracha sauce-- I got some of that shit in there earlier today as I snacked on some corn on the cob (yeah, so I do that shit. Don't judge me. It's good as fuck).
I know I have to call it a day once my hands start to bleed... which they finally did... so I thought it was best if I got online... ? Yeah, I have a great sense of logic.
Lobotomy, remember?
My poor sister was unfortunate enough to start texting me as I was in the middle of my cleaning spree, and this is how I greeted her:
I know, I have a way with words.
Poor kid was crying in her room and this is how I console her.
It's the Windex, I swear!
... and maybe the fact that earlier today I had to body check a fucking stupid cunt who wouldn't move out of "my side" of the sidewalk as I was walking out of the gym, towards my car.
She was one of those entitled, self-important, pompous cunts at the gym who walk in a herd of fellow Ed-Hardy-rocking bitches that won't open up space on the sidewalk. Bitches expect everyone to step foot on the street and walk around them like we're below them or some shit.
Umm... NO, I'm sorry, we're all equals here.
I was in no mood to move for her royal highness, so I shoulder-checked THE FUCK out of her.
I played post in my high school basketball team, I had two jobs:
1. Take the shot at the top of the key.
and
2. Take the charge.
And let me tell you, my fucking favorite was taking the charge... even if multiple times I had to get mowed down by a fucking rhino of a girl.
If you are a chick between the ages of 13-35, below 280 pounds, and shorter than 5'8"... you're outta your damn mind if you think I'm going to bitch out to your inconsiderate ass (I make exceptions if they're trying to round up their evil spawn. I move for them like I move for fire trucks. Fuck having to deal with that shit. Wrangle away, ladies).
I made eye-contact with the little princess,
Umm... hello? I've been walking on the right side of the sidewalk for the last minute... you gonna give me some room or what?
She rolled her eyes at me,
OH. HELL. NO.
And she proceeded to talk to her equally cunt-y cronies... actually picking up her pace, coming directly AT me.
Alllllll right then! Seems you enjoy this, Princess. I will too. This one goes out to Shh-CAAAAAA-Go!
I tensed up... and why lie, I did it quite jovially... I was actually excited at the prospect of knocking this bitch over (I blame the low-carb thing I have going on right now... when in doubt, always blame the low-carb).
I made sure my left shoulder was sturdy, along with the rest of my left side, and the moment we collided, I dug my shoulder into her left clavicle... flaring my left elbow to connect with her stomach.
Muay Thai's my shit... AND I just got a deadlift PR today... you thought you were gonna beat me, stripper? HA!
The idiot yelped.
The dude in her group looked at me, and I gave him my nonchalant "What? You saw that. Your cunt wouldn't move out of the way. Wanna come at me as well? I got you" look... along with my infamous Jordan Shrug.
I can be like a cinderblock fence when I wanna be, jackass.
Like I'd fucking apologize to that idiot...
Well, look at that! Seems a little bit of rage makes me regain some sort of cognizance.
AnoMALIE: body-checking extraordinaire.
Cleaning.
Cleaning gets the job done SO wonderfully, that I start behaving like I just received a lobotomy.
My communication skills are subpar, at best, on my good days... but once I get in my Mexican-cleaning-lady mode, I don't even bother to formulate THOUGHTS.
Alls I know is:
My fingertips hurt like a motherfucker.
I have five papercuts that came out of nowhere...
 |
| Patrick's face makes the pain go away. |
 |
| Suuuure do! |
Lobotomy, remember?
My poor sister was unfortunate enough to start texting me as I was in the middle of my cleaning spree, and this is how I greeted her:
Poor kid was crying in her room and this is how I console her.
It's the Windex, I swear!
... and maybe the fact that earlier today I had to body check a fucking stupid cunt who wouldn't move out of "my side" of the sidewalk as I was walking out of the gym, towards my car.
She was one of those entitled, self-important, pompous cunts at the gym who walk in a herd of fellow Ed-Hardy-rocking bitches that won't open up space on the sidewalk. Bitches expect everyone to step foot on the street and walk around them like we're below them or some shit.
Umm... NO, I'm sorry, we're all equals here.
I was in no mood to move for her royal highness, so I shoulder-checked THE FUCK out of her.
I played post in my high school basketball team, I had two jobs:
1. Take the shot at the top of the key.
and
2. Take the charge.
And let me tell you, my fucking favorite was taking the charge... even if multiple times I had to get mowed down by a fucking rhino of a girl.
If you are a chick between the ages of 13-35, below 280 pounds, and shorter than 5'8"... you're outta your damn mind if you think I'm going to bitch out to your inconsiderate ass (I make exceptions if they're trying to round up their evil spawn. I move for them like I move for fire trucks. Fuck having to deal with that shit. Wrangle away, ladies).
I made eye-contact with the little princess,
Umm... hello? I've been walking on the right side of the sidewalk for the last minute... you gonna give me some room or what?
She rolled her eyes at me,
OH. HELL. NO.
And she proceeded to talk to her equally cunt-y cronies... actually picking up her pace, coming directly AT me.
Alllllll right then! Seems you enjoy this, Princess. I will too. This one goes out to Shh-CAAAAAA-Go!
I tensed up... and why lie, I did it quite jovially... I was actually excited at the prospect of knocking this bitch over (I blame the low-carb thing I have going on right now... when in doubt, always blame the low-carb).
I made sure my left shoulder was sturdy, along with the rest of my left side, and the moment we collided, I dug my shoulder into her left clavicle... flaring my left elbow to connect with her stomach.
Muay Thai's my shit... AND I just got a deadlift PR today... you thought you were gonna beat me, stripper? HA!
The idiot yelped.
The dude in her group looked at me, and I gave him my nonchalant "What? You saw that. Your cunt wouldn't move out of the way. Wanna come at me as well? I got you" look... along with my infamous Jordan Shrug.
I can be like a cinderblock fence when I wanna be, jackass.
Like I'd fucking apologize to that idiot...
Well, look at that! Seems a little bit of rage makes me regain some sort of cognizance.
AnoMALIE: body-checking extraordinaire.
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