CONE OR CUP

I think I have misplaced what I would equivocate as my pimp hand when it comes to blogging. It’s not that I’m no longer bitter, but maybe my daughter has been the honey on my spoon that eases that nasty aftertaste.

It might be the lack of adult, human interaction I haven’t had recently, which since the beginning of the year, has been reduced to my husband during the hours of 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. Trust me when I say “adult” refers only to his physical age. His mentality rivals my seven year old son’s.

It also might be I’m not reading enough blogs that write stuff that get under my skin – aside from the earlier post about those who ask for handouts. Instead I’ve settled into the overstuffed easy chair that is my blogroll.

It’s no wonder many bloggers go out with a bang instead of letting themselves become simpering dolts who whine and complain about losing their pimp hands, and possibly even thinking that “pimp hand” is a hip and cool reference.

What has happened to me? I’ve become…vanilla!

SAY WHAT?

“wait a cunt pinching minute sharpie”

In most cases I can decipher the yoda-speak when it comes to google word searches that eventually show up in my stats. But the example above? That one is going to keep me up all dang night.

(Since the words aren’t mine, it does not go against my lenten goal of not swearing on my blog. Just in case anyone was keeping track. Pru.)