Knocked up or legit?

I have this habit of people watching. Actually I am down right staring at people. If I am close enough I will listen to conversations. I am not sure there is really anything wrong with this, as I have learned some interesting things. I have also heard some of the most ridiculous things. I would have to say that yesterday, I may have heard some of the MOST ridiculous question.

Yesterday I heard complete strangers ask pregnant women if their pregnancy was planned. I was astounded by this question. I am all about asking off the wall questions and asking things that are inappropraite, but I think this takes the cake. One women said her pregnancy was planned, but the other sheepishly replied, "um, no, it was a surprise." The follow up question, "You don't have a wedding ring, are you in a relationship?" was followed with, "no." I have to say that the pregnant woman is a stylist and was asked this in a the middle of a busy salon, among a number of other guests. People heard....

Girl, fucking lie your ass off! You are a professional and basically admitted to everyone in the salon that you are a fucking hooker. You may spread your legs to the world without protection, but don't be spreading your fucking dirty laundry. In addition, tell that bitch to shut the fuck up and mind her business.

End scene.

Oh, excuse me....

I think I walked in on the cat trying to use the toilet this morning. Walking towards the bathroom, I thought it was strange that the door had been partly closed. As I pushed it open, there she was sitting on the toilet seat. She stared at me for a moment with an annoyed look in her eyes. "Oh sorry..." I said, and feeling embarrassed for interrupting her. Then I realized I was talking to the fucking cat. I can't stop thinking about the whole thing.

I'm not that kind of doctor

Today while I was stretching at the gym I caught a glimpse of a woman's labia. Yes, I know. We were on adjacent mats stretching and she spread her legs to stretch, her shorts opened a little too much and there they were. Staring me in the face. Proud; like she was at the gynecologist.

Now, I don't always wear underwear to the gym--mostly because my running shorts have a lining--but I make damn sure that no one can see my pie hole when I spread my legs.

A word to the wise: make sure you are trying to show off your panty hamster when you are showing it off. Otherwise, poopsnatch that situation!

Poopsnatch!

This is a long awaited post. It is the one about the poop. Brace yourself...

A few weeks ago at work, I entered the public restroom to be struck by a horrendous odor. I was in need, so I decided to endure the smell. I am not usually offended by smells and quickly began to breathe shallowly through my mouth. As I stood in front of the urinal, I realized the smell was oddly familiar. It sort of smelled like dirty diaper. There was some rustling in the stall and I figured someone was attempting to change their baby's diaper. I kept waiting hear a baby make some noise, but nothing like this occurred. I lost interest quickly.

As I moved to the sink to wash my hands, I glanced in the mirror and saw movement on the floor behind me. I was standing at the sink washing my hands. The mirror is directly in front of the stall, so the movement was coming from underneath the stall door. I stared into the mirror and was astounded by the sight of a stool rolling ever so slowly out from underneath the stall door. I quickly turned around to make sure I, in fact, did see a piece of shit on the loose. When I turned, it was in fact poop. My mouth fell open and I stared in amazement.

I thought for a moment of what to do. I was hoping that my camera phone was in my pocket to document proof of the story. As I patted my pockets, I pictured the phone laying on my desk. As I reached for a paper towel to dry my hands and flee the scene, a small hand holding toilet paper surreptitiously began to reach from under the stall. In one quick movement the turd was rescued back into the hand of it's owner; poopsnatch!

Moral of this story: When your shit gets away from you, do what needs to be done to get it together. That is what I now call a poopsnatch.

P.S. I decided that I would type "poopsnatch" into google image search and the most bizarre picture that was returned on the first page of results would be used to accompany this story. I am not sure it could get better than this:

fumbling towards exit signs

I am not so caught up in being perfect these days. I don't want to be perfect. I want to be happy realizing that I am perfect because of my imperfections.

Reasons I am perfect today:
I feel comfortable wherever I am most of the time.
I am a mess on more days than not.
There is more right with me than wrong with me simply because I am living.
I closed the bar on the other night and somehow made it to work without a hangover.
I am not content sitting at home on the couch.
I will drink beer out of a can and see nothing wrong with it.
I eat alone in restaurants and go to movies by myself; sometimes feeling as if I am on one of the best date I have had.
I don't think that I am better than other people, but I know I am amazing.
I wake up in the morning and dread the day.
I sleep through my alarm.
I am cold and heartless (like a robot or Popsicle), but emotionally sophisticated.
I would probably be the same person if I were to do it all again.

great expectations versus all things good

Is not having any expectations really the solution to being disappointed all the time?

I hear people say that if you don't have any expectations you minimize your disappointment when things don't go your way. You can feel pleasantly surprised by whatever comes your way. Everything becomes a gift; something above and beyond.

I can see the logic, but is disappointment really such a tragedy? If there is nothing in which to strive, where is the hope? If you have nothing to set your sights on, aren't you setting yourself up for the status quo, mediocrity, and ultimate failure?

I know that disappointment will follow too high expectations, but I also know that expecting great things keeps me moving.

I am trying to find a healthy balance between optimism, hope, obsession and the superior let-down.

Super Queen.

Zach Morris decided that I should go to cosmetology school. I am seriously considering it. Is it wrong to spend one's entire life in school to become a PhD and then completely switch careers?

I know I am searching for clarity, but really? Hair?