First of all, I'm going to share a conversation that I had with my mother yesterday, via Facebook. Maybe this will help shed some light on why I am the way I am. Or maybe it will just make you really glad you're not in my family, I'm not sure; though I happen to like my family.
My Facebook status: I have to get ready for work but all I really want to do is listen to Whitney Houston singing "I wanna dance with somebody" over and over and over. You know you're jealous that you didn't think of occupying your day that way.
My Momma: I thought I taught you to have better taste in music than that...
Me: Mother! Shame on you. This is a majestic song. I screamed it full blast in my car yesterday when it came on the radio, so there. Gonna disown me? Didn't think so.
My Momma: Daughter, shame on you. I taught you to have taste in music than that. Don't let dad hear you say this. It will break his heart.
Me: Your argument is invalid because you just repeated yourself. And added the part about dad. Dad, who like shitty movies and I pass no judgement there. My leg is now bleeding profusely.
My Momma: Your argument is invalid because your leg is bleeding profusely. Listening to Whitney Houston over and over can actually cause bodily harm and needs to come with a government health warning.
Me: My leg is bleeding profusely because I acquired your nasty habit of wanting to pick every scab that forms on my body.
My Momma: If Whitney Houston makes you pick scabs, you definitely need to switch over to something else.
Me: I was absent-mindedly picking a scab while reading something that made me want to listen to Whitney Houston. I wish I could dress up as her for Halloween...something tells me I couldn't exactly pull that off.
My Momma: You're dressing up as a monster. It's close enough.
Me: GASP! Mother. Look at that hair. LOOK AT HER HAIR! It's beautiful.
My Momma: *facepalm** I have failed you as a mother. I'm so sorry, my child.
*Yes, my mother does say 'facepalm', she also uses the term 'douchebag' though I generally advise her not to... not that that stops her anyway.
And let me just say, that yes, I really would like to dress up as Whitney Houston for Halloween... unfortunately, I'm so awkwardly white that it's something that shall only remain as a dream. Speaking of being awkwardly white, I love dancing at work - badly. But that Cuban music just gets me deep down inside and I can't control myself. It's made more entertaining by the fact that it drives our kitchen staff insane. Especially our kitchen manager; the same guy who made a deal with me that we'll get married if we're both single at 40. You always need a plan, guys.
Another thing that I've been noticing recently is how many straight up bros are always at the gym. The only girls I see there are mostly just all about the elliptical but I like to lift and these bros and their massive muscles are always up making me feel all tiny. Also, you'd think in this day and age that they would make protein drinks that don't feel like you're drinking that weird watery wet sand. And only in like 4 different flavors.
Anyway, that's all I have for today. I'll leave you with this, as it only seems fitting.
Happy Hump Day!!
Miss Georgia
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