Okay so how old were you when you realized there was no Santa Claus? I remember when I found out I think I was 6, 7, 8 not really sure? I wasn’t sleeping like I should have been and I snuck out of my bed and out of the room to the door that was shut between the back of the apartment to the front. Of course it was wood floors so you had a lot of space underneath them to look through and of course I looked. I couldn’t clearly see what was going on but I could here presents rattling around and my parents voices. Then they must’ve seen a shadow or something because they came towards the door and I hauled ass back into my bed to pretend to sleep and didn’t get back out until the morning. I think from then on I played the game of Santa but was still unsure about it all until I later confirmed handwriting then I was positive. We still had to play that game into my early teens because of my sibling but by then I had mastered the unwrapping/wrapping presents to a tea. If you don’t want kids to find out what they got beforehand don’t use the tape that you can easily take off paper and put back on without ripping it. You need the really sticky stuff.

The holiday season is essentially in full swing now. Usually the easy way to get out of spending time with the family is to work. I despise getting grilled with umpteen questions when I care not to share the information. I recently found out questions were asked to a relative on what I was doing, how I was doing and if anything was going on. Seriously, if I wanted this information spread around, I’d speak it. If I don’t talk to my parents well there might be a reason. Perhaps they are too nosy. I don’t want to know every detail of their lives why should of mine? Needles to say, you can catch me working on Thanksgiving and Christmas avoiding as much family stuff as possible. There were be massive amounts of alcohol before and after said visits to numb the entire experience because you know you just can’t avoid at least a couple of hours, at least I haven’t figured out how yet. Well I guess I could just not go but then maybe I want to be ridiculed once/twice a year to realize why I stay away the rest of the year.

Mmkay, this is gonna be about girly things if the guys want to just check out now. So I went for my yearly annual visit which floored me last year as it was a new practice I went to and they rushed you to undress, get in, get out, get dressed and get the hell out. This year was no different but this time I actually had more time to undress. So I’m sitting there, sitting there, sitting there, thinking what the hell. Then the doc shows up checks my breasts, asks about my tattoo that he can see and then proceeds to check if I have a tramp stamp on my lower back. Hello?? I told him I plan to not get one there and he asks if I will get more. You betcha, one on the back of my neck and my left calf that I can think of so far. He then gets to work, asks some more questions to which it ends up of are you having any pain with sexual intercourse? Well, there’s an easy answer I’m thinking and say no because I’m not having any sex. Now I’m thinking what’s next? I honestly have never had some of these questions before. Either way, he’s done, I get dressed, get my script and I’m outta there.

Maybe I should be at the bar hunting down the next boyfriend but honestly I think they are more trouble than they are worth. I mean hell, my ex is in jail until 2008 and he’s not the only one of my exes that has a record. I just plain out right pick the wrong guys.

You know I was surfing earlier today and saw a post about a parent finding out that her baby had chicken pox. It is somewhat uncommon and as I had it when I was just a baby too. The catch is that it usually is such a mild case as a baby that you end up catching it again later during school age which I ended up catching from my brother. Let me tell you that the second round is way worse and way harsh. I even had pox in my mouth, on my tongue and down my throat. I have many scars from it the second time around even on my face from scratching. You just can’t stop from scratching no matter how much of an oatmeal bath you take.