Jun 08, 2009 05:10
so I both love and despise when my BF asks me how I got the bruises that show up from time to time on various parts of my body. I love that he notices (I'm not talking horrific monstrous bruises but normal 'ran into a table' bruises) such insignificant things but I hate it cause how the fuck am I supposed to remember? Currently I have 10 bruises on my body (that's right, I counted) mostly shins, the bottoms of my forearms, one big one on my hip from running into a table and one on my collarbone from some, ahem, romantic interludes. Maybe people who are blessed with natural grace just don't get it. I'm a clumsy motherfucker, I bang, stub or jam some extremity DAILY and you expect me to remember how I got one of many bruises? Fuck. Either that or I am simply a pothead who has said goodbye to her short term memory and truly does not miss it.
Meh.
also, after much complaining from me we have moved our TV into the bedroom and I gotta say: I effing LOVE it. I thought that it would make it too hard to sleep (which I have enough trouble with already) but no. Instead the fact that videogames bore me to fucking DEATH works like some kind of sedative. I napped everyday for the past three days. Tis a siesta fiesta in my house. Plus I had a dream about KFC sunday and woke up with a massive hankering and when I shared said dream with the BF and then mother they both had the same reaction: "KFC OMG YES" and then KFC was had for supper. Life has been too easy lately and I do not trust it.