TMI

I have secrets, you know. Dastardly horrible secrets that I would never ever tell anyone in real life. In fact! If asked about any of these things, I would promptly glibbly lie about how I would never and have never done such things. But I shall spill them all to you, fine bloggy citizens, promptly.

*Warning! I am gross and unkempt and am going to outline these facts in detail. So if you are weak of constitution or mentally unstable, please stop reading now and navigate elsewhere. The End*

1. I am sitting at my desk, here at work. I should be working. But I am not. I have a huge report to do. But am not doing it. Or the other one I have to do. Slacker.
2. I am sitting here, at my desk next to a trash can that is not filled with the litter that is all over my messy messy desk (old conference announcements, sticky notes from 1996, etc.) but rather the lovely green mucous I keep coughing and coughing and coughing up and spitting in there, wads of used snotty toilet paper (I jacked a roll out of the office potty), and an ungodly amount of Twix, Snickers, and M&M miniatures wrappers, that I have eaten.
3. I bought the Valentine Wrapped Chocolate Miniature 17 oz bag yesterday. It is 3/4s gone. I predict the empty bag will be tossed with its empty entrails into the nasty trash can before 1 PM, Central Standard time. Because I will have eaten them all.
4. I am wearing maternity pants. Not because my non-maternity clothes do not fit, not because they are all dirty (because quite a bit of my laundry is dirty, piled up waist high in my baby's bedroom) but rather because. Well, because. Well... They are loose. I like loose. They are pink, and I like pink. And I just happened to be wearing white underwear that can not be seen through the light pink pants. It was fate, I tell you. And I am a big freak who still wears maternity clothes when her baby is 17 months old. I am choosing not to care about this.
5. My hair sucks. The cut I got is f*cked up. He cut it so it parts wayyyy far over on the wrong side. The front is long and stringy. The back is short and layered. For some reason, this sheek new cut that was going to force me to fix my hair did not accomplish its task and I am putting the damn hair up in the same ways I did when it was halfway down my back. And now, I have those little hairs? You know the ones. The little 3/4 of an inch new hairs that are growing out right at my hair line at a freakish angle and make me look messy and unkempt? So I shelack them with 3 bottles of hairspray to make them stay back and subsequently look like one of those Robert Palmer Chicks? Only with long stringy hair on the sides and layers in the back? I am choosing not to care about this as well.
6. My coffee is cold and gross. I am drinking it anyway.
7. My water is a day old with a film of dust floating nonchalantly on the top. I am drinking it anyway.
8. I didn't shower this morning, because I was too tired. I am sure I now smell something akin to a locker room drenched in body spray and deoderant. Yet again, I am choosing not to care about this.

ShOck & aWe! ShOck & aWe! ShOck & aWe! ShOck & aWe!

There. Now, don't you feel better about yourself? I know I would, if I were not me. But alas, I am. And I am decidedly ok with that.