I’m eating a little crow. Okay a big fat chewy one. Which is no simple feat, considering I have an odd affection for the breed. They’re just so stinkin’ SMART. I appreciate that in a bird. And now I’ve veered waaaay off course. And I feel like I owe ma Doogs a follow-up.
So, I’ve been known to bust on Facebook. Like here. And here. If I logged on once a week, that was A LOT. I didn’t get it. The Flair Requests and the Plant Requests and the You’re Great Requests. The Knighthood Invitations. The Gods of Metal Requests. (Awesome. Thanks Bro.) I STILL don’t get it. But for whatever reason, over the past month I started signing on more often. Once a week became a few days a week. And then a few more. And a few more. Just for fun.
And then, two short weeks ago, I reconnected with an old high school classmate. A boy. A very cute boy. And between emails, IMs, text messages and seven hour phone calls, we’ve been talking nearly non-stop ever since. Nevermind that we live on opposite ends of the country. Nevermind that inexplicably, I feel like I’ve known this boy forever. This has to be one of the craziest things that’s ever happened to me, and it’s got me a little discomboobulated, to be sure.
I committed a Cardinal Sin.
Good God, the Granny Panties.
But, surprisingly, I’m actually completely okay with it. It’s kind of nice to be able to cut to the chase and say “Here’s me. No holds barred. Take me for what I am.” And after howling with laughter upon the realization that for days, he actually thought the photo in the Granny Panties post was ME holding up my own scary, ginormous GPs (It’s NOT, btw. It’s Bridget Jones. Honest.), I was absolutely astounded he was still around.
Remember the ZAZA ZOO I’m always going on about?