Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Do you have a Perfect Life?

Of course you're not, silly. No one is.

I read a blog while surfing BE, and in a nutshell it was a rant about how all people in the blog-o-sphere act like they are perfect and write like they have perfect little lives.

Unfortunately I clicked the 30 second counter as soon as it ran down because I didn't particularity care for what he was saying, so I don't have a link. It did make me think afterwards though.

While this may have a bit of merit, I try to maintain a balance of the good and bad. I've bemoaned my fate and celebrated it here. I tend to be more of a positive person, so I decided to list all my faults, right here in the open, so that I will not be one of those bloggers with a perfect little life.

I say "dude" all the time. No, really dude, I really say dude all the time.

I make fun of stupid people. Not like mentally challenged people, but people that should know enough not to be so stupid.

I hold a grudge like nobody's business.

I'm a social smoker, formally a fully addicted smoker.

I pull the tags off my pillows and mattresses.

I have an extremely hard time committing in a relationship.

If I feel that someone has done something to lose my trust or loyalty, I have absolutely no problem cutting them out of my life and never thinking of them again. (I know, that's baaaad.)

I'm very anal about my teeth. If I eat, I must brush and floss, no matter where I am. If I am out drinking, my teeth will feel periodically nasty and I will go brush my teeth. It is rather annoying to the people I know, and I am so sick that I always carry travel sized tooth paste and floss and a tooth brush with me everywhere I go.

I have incredibly fresh breath though, and have never had a cavity. I'll have to tell you all about how my teeth fetish came about, but that is a post in itself.

Oh yeah, back to the faults....

If I get a mositoe bite, I must scratch it until it bleeds.

I only give my cats bottled water. I don't know if that qualifies as a fault, but my brother thinks it means I am fucked in the head. I guess being fucked in the head is a fault, eh?

When I get sick I am the biggest baby in the world. I want someone to take care of me NOW dammit, and act like a total brat. I am sure it is hard for some of you long time readers to imagine, but if you try real hard you just might be able to picture it.

I'm a purse snob. If it don't say Coach or Gucci, I'm not having it.

Pot luck dinners creep me out if I don't know all the people because they might be like nasty people with dirty kitchens and germs all over the place. If there are kids there with their dirty little hands and snotty little noses digging in, forget it. I'm not eating.

Oh yeah, and I'm a bit of a germ-a-phob.

I don't act my age. At. All. Not even close.

I'm a bad blogger that disappears for a month and then returns like nothing happened.

I have a very low tolerance for bad little children that do not listen. A lot of times these children are considered "cute" by their parental units, but usually they are just "brats".

I'm sure there are many more things wrong with me, but hey, this is a start. Just in case anyone thought I was perfect.


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