Um...yeah...so, I think a prisoner's reading my other blog.
Okay. Maybe not a prisoner. Maybe someone who works at a prison. But, seriously, if you're working, why would you be reading other people's blogs?
Okay --- did I seriously just ask that? Me, of all people? When I've got nothing to do all day and I'm sitting there...well, actually, I don't tend to read a lot of blogs when I'm at work. I update my own blog and I'll aimlessly surf the web. (Nowadays, mostly job sites...but there's something inherently depressing about looking for a job, so, I'm usually on and off those sites pretty quick.)
Sometimes, I'll walk over to someone's desk to see if there's any news.
I admit it.
I'm a gossip whore.
Doesn't matter what kind of gossip.
Family gossip, celebrity gossip, office gossip, you name it.
That probably makes me a horrible person, right? Yeah, well, I don't really care. I try and keep the trash talking to a minimum and mostly, you can get away with this by just going, "Mmm hmmm" and "Yeah" a lot. It makes the other person think you're saying bad stuff, too, and lets them steamroll into their rants.
So, anyway, today, someone at work told me something that she asked me not to tell anybody else.
This someone's The Snitch.
Everybody hates The Snitch.
But you know what? Because she actually said the words, "Don't tell anybody", I'm going to put this one into the vault. It's going to be more of an exercise in restraint, to prove to myself that I, too, can be a keeper of secrets.
The last time I decided to keep something to myself, (though the other person didn't ask me to keep it quiet), it didn't work out too well. It was, like, eating away at me.
But this time? I'm locking the vault and throwing away the key.
I can do this.
I know I can.
But anyway, back to the prisoner. It's kind of creepy, no? But you know what I've noticed? A lot of people stumble on that blog by searching for porn. I think it's because I swear a lot in the other blog. The overuse of the word "fuck" seems to draw in a certain type of person who winds up being incredibly disappointed, 'cause it's just me ranting like a lunatic.
Anyway...I bought this book for a friend's birthday. She likes to knit. She knits all of her clothes. (I know. Don't say it. For someone who's got more clothes than all three of her sisters combined --- and let me just say that Sisters 3 and 4 have a lot of friggin clothes --- the idea of knitting your own clothes in wildly vibrant, mismatched colours and in the same pattern...well, let's just say I'm surprised I haven't severed my own tongue by biting down on it so often.)
I asked the Best Friend..."So, do you think it'd be incredibly selfish to mark off a page and buy her some yarn for her birthday and then hint that I'd like her to make me a sweater based on that pattern for my birthday?"
God. I'm turning 28 this year. Two years from 30, which seems like such a huge birthday.
I guess the difference this time around is that I know certain things just aren't ever going to change, no matter how much you wish they would.
Okay. Maybe not a prisoner. Maybe someone who works at a prison. But, seriously, if you're working, why would you be reading other people's blogs?
Okay --- did I seriously just ask that? Me, of all people? When I've got nothing to do all day and I'm sitting there...well, actually, I don't tend to read a lot of blogs when I'm at work. I update my own blog and I'll aimlessly surf the web. (Nowadays, mostly job sites...but there's something inherently depressing about looking for a job, so, I'm usually on and off those sites pretty quick.)
Sometimes, I'll walk over to someone's desk to see if there's any news.
I admit it.
I'm a gossip whore.
Doesn't matter what kind of gossip.
Family gossip, celebrity gossip, office gossip, you name it.
That probably makes me a horrible person, right? Yeah, well, I don't really care. I try and keep the trash talking to a minimum and mostly, you can get away with this by just going, "Mmm hmmm" and "Yeah" a lot. It makes the other person think you're saying bad stuff, too, and lets them steamroll into their rants.
So, anyway, today, someone at work told me something that she asked me not to tell anybody else.
This someone's The Snitch.
Everybody hates The Snitch.
But you know what? Because she actually said the words, "Don't tell anybody", I'm going to put this one into the vault. It's going to be more of an exercise in restraint, to prove to myself that I, too, can be a keeper of secrets.
The last time I decided to keep something to myself, (though the other person didn't ask me to keep it quiet), it didn't work out too well. It was, like, eating away at me.
But this time? I'm locking the vault and throwing away the key.
I can do this.
I know I can.
But anyway, back to the prisoner. It's kind of creepy, no? But you know what I've noticed? A lot of people stumble on that blog by searching for porn. I think it's because I swear a lot in the other blog. The overuse of the word "fuck" seems to draw in a certain type of person who winds up being incredibly disappointed, 'cause it's just me ranting like a lunatic.
Anyway...I bought this book for a friend's birthday. She likes to knit. She knits all of her clothes. (I know. Don't say it. For someone who's got more clothes than all three of her sisters combined --- and let me just say that Sisters 3 and 4 have a lot of friggin clothes --- the idea of knitting your own clothes in wildly vibrant, mismatched colours and in the same pattern...well, let's just say I'm surprised I haven't severed my own tongue by biting down on it so often.)
I asked the Best Friend..."So, do you think it'd be incredibly selfish to mark off a page and buy her some yarn for her birthday and then hint that I'd like her to make me a sweater based on that pattern for my birthday?"
God. I'm turning 28 this year. Two years from 30, which seems like such a huge birthday.
I guess the difference this time around is that I know certain things just aren't ever going to change, no matter how much you wish they would.
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