Howdy friends and strangers

"If you're a fierce individualist who has a bone to
pick with the profit-driven world, you might be a punk."

Once I get the ball rolling with this new blog thing, I plan to make it a daily source for venting and a tool for creativity. I have stories to share, hearts to break (uh huh) and minds to shock. So please, guys, hold on tight until then. I'm really excited about this thing...

For the record, I didn't author the following quote, but an old friend shared it with me years ago and I am rather fond of it:

"You are the strangest
person I ever met" she said. And he said "You too". And they decided
they would know eachother for a very long time.

Guys, I shared the creation of my new blog with my bestest (<- u like that?) friend in the world and what did she have to say..."why that picture..." :( Nit-picker. I won't tell you what else she said about it (girl get your mind out of the gutter) but FOR THAT I am stickin with the pic. Shaazzzamm!

Nit-picker's little comment created a strong foundation for my first story. What comes out of my mouth, she says. Hmm. Funny you should mention that. Here we go, people.

I have a bad habit of starting stories out with the following phrase "I don’t know why I am about to tell you this, BUT..."! My close friends have learned that this means lean in, listen up and prepare yourself for just about anything imaginable. Most instances have proven to be displeasing to the ears. But you guys, and you know who you are, will never forget my interesting tales. You’ve probably even passed along a story or two to others, totally not giving away my identity, but saying "you won’t believe this, but I know this girl who...". Right? Now you’re shaking your head mumbling "she’s right, I have done that, how’d she know".

I once dated a guy and I really never gave him much of a chance because of an incident early on during our courtship. This particular instance was the second time he’d been to my place. We hadn’t really been intimate yet (at least no more than a few pecks following our first date which were nothing to write home about). We had spent the afternoon together and had a very casual dinner on a patio at a neighborhood mexican restaurant. We dined on cheese dip and draft beer. We decided to continue the extravaganza over at my casa. Things were cool. This particular gentleman is really funny and aggressive which are two traits I find incredibly attractive in a person of the opposite sex. So, we hang out on my patio, have a few beers, listen to music. The conversation is top notch, as usual. My date proceeds to excuse himself to "break the seal" (his exact words) while I go inside to switch out cd’s. Just to be clear, and I hope you’ll agree, "break the seal" is slang for urination after taking back a couple of beers, correct? As would be considered normal, my date was out quickly and we continued our flirty banter when I, too, decided it was time to "break the seal". Upon my arrival to the bathroom I was met with a war zone. When I glanced upon what was floating in the toilet I nearly passed out. I never pass out. I almost passed out when I saw the disaster awaiting me. My initial reaction was to blame myself. Why you ask? Well, why would anyone DO THAT in someone elses’ bathroom, unless it was a dire emergency and if that’s the case you make POSITIVE there is no evidence of such occurrence. My date had been in and out with a quickness. How could he possibly produce such madness in a short amount of time? So, again, blamed myself. I thought to myself I must have done this earlier in the day. I don’t know when or why I didn’t flush but maybe I was in a hurry this morning. I was dumbfounded and utterly embarrassed. I flushed the disgusting mess, urinated, gathered whatever dignity I had on reserve and shamefully walked out of my bathroom. Now, if my memory serves me right I vaguely recall being met with a distinctive look of apprehension from my date. I assumed, of course, this look was given because he saw the disaster when he walked into the restroom, didn’t know how to react, felt it too weird a subject to broach with a girl he hardly knew, and thought best to play dumb. My second thought was how could he desire my company after such a discovery? Anyway, business as usual. We went back to talking, singing and "what not" but the incident dominated my thoughts. A real head scratcher. I pondered on the situation for quite some time and came to the realization that NO. No sir. Nuh uh. It wasn’t me. I hadn’t "done that" in awhile and absolutely had not done the deed that morning. Plus, I am adamant about checking the facility post production to make sure it’s making it’s way down to the sewer. If ever it didn’t make it’s way down after multiple flushes I go to plan b. Desperate times, desperate measures. I don’t care what you have to do - you don’t leave it. If this involves some digging and disposing of so be it. I am way too prideful. It’s not going away on its own. In the case at hand, though, the ringer for me was it just looked weird. Unlike something I’d manufacture. It was at that moment - the very moment I came to realize I was not the culprit - when I became totally disgusted with my date. Our "association" was so new. I could never look at him and not see the disgusting mess I saw that afternoon in my toilet. It’s all I knew. I have no problem with this very healthy and natural duty but in the early (and very awkward) stages of dating swoon me. Don't blow out my toilet.