So let this serve as an informative insight into the mind of the Flabby Ninja. Buckle up, put your trays in the upright and locked position and enjoy the ride.
~Everytime I am driving, I have a feeling that I am an extra in the movie 2012. I fear that at any minute the earth is going to open up and swallow me and my Volvo whole and we will be sucked into the center of the earth. The problem with this scenario is that I get stuck in an air pocket and don’t die right away. I am reduced to listening to AM radio and eating year old McDonald’s fries and ketchup packets my kids dropped under the back seat. I will have to drink my own urine for survival and eventually I will get bored and just…die.
~Whenever I am naked in front of a mirror, I like to cup my breasts and play a little game of “20 year old boobs….36 year old boobs” where I lift them up and remember what they looked like before I had kids and lost 165 pounds, and then sadly drop them a foot lower to where they are now.
~If I have to poop at work I would rather hold it in and run the risk of imploding because I have this thought that everyone will know what I am doing in there and they will judge me for it. I also fear that after I do poop I will unknowingly smell like backed up feces and Febreze air freshener for the rest of the day.
~I am a Google-Aholic. And, not because I have an innate need to be informed or because I am researching how long strep throat is contagious or how to hire a hit man that isn’t a cop so I don’t have to do 25 to life, but because I like to type in partial sentences and see what Google “suggests”.
See what I mean? Good times.
~Yoga makes me fart. Every. Single. Time.
~I used to be seriously grossed out by the thought of spiders crawling into my mouth while I slept. Now that I have had gastric bypass and struggle to get enough protein in my diet, I often wonder how much protein a Daddy Long Legs contains? If I have to unwittingly eat them, I may as well get something from it, right?
~I kind of enjoy farting and trying to see if it smells like anything I ate that day. It’s even better when it’s so bad that I try to leave the room and walk away from it. As if my ass and it’s stench won’t follow me, right?
~I hate when people touch my face. It makes me irrationally violent and chances are if you do it I will be tempted to stab you in the neck with a fork and spoon out your eyes. I do not want your urine tinged, nose picking, germ infested hands anywhere near my mouth. You’ve been warned.
~I talk to myself. A lot. I know this isn’t unusual but my internal voice sounds like a Southern Belle. She starts all conversations with “Hey ya’ll” and ends them with “Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?”. Maybe this is why I sometimes have the urge to tease my hair and wear lots of mascara.
~I HATE CLOWNS. They are descendants of Satan put on earth to torture and eventually destroy us. They are evil and creepy and I always envision them naked under their oversized polka dot costumes with a constant erection.
~Whenever I run outside, I always feel like I look like Phoebe in Central Park in that episode of Friends.
~Touching the fur of a large dog grosses me out. I love dogs and I think they are adorable, but every time I pet one my hands always feel dirty and flea-like afterwards.
~Sometimes I do things like dance around the house or make my “sexy face” when reading or watching TV because I think there are hidden cameras in my house and people are watching me.
~I don’t believe in the 5 second rule. Whether it touches the floor, the rug or the couch cushion, at some point someone’s foot, ass or vagina was in that spot.
Lastly, and most importantly….
~I love to swear, talk about sex, poop and vaginas. Something about it is very freeing to me. My internal filter is on the fritz so I am always amused when I say something that catches someone more filtered and less vulgar off guard. I take mental photos of their looks of shock, awe and disgust. I compartmentalize them and use them to make me laugh when I am having a bad day.
Still think you know me? What don’t I know about you?
