Blog Challenge Post 16: These Are My Confessions….

"...I'm so throwed and I don't know what to do But to give you part 2 of my confessions..."

“…Got me talking to myself asking how I’m, going to tell you about that chick on part 1 I told y’all I was creeping with said she’s 3 months pregnant and she’s keeping it…” Rewind, did ole boy just say that he’s been cheating on you and the ratchet heaux is preggers? That’s foul! But I didn’t come here today to delve into the mind of a chocolate Keebler elf Usher Raymond. Today on my small part of the innawebs I am going to confess some hashish. I’m not giving any justifiable explanation for these things I’m about to post #dontjudgeme! All of these things involve the workplace…outside of work I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine!

Blog peoples a lot of time when folk talk to me I’m not listening. Yeah I know it sounds bad. I run through the motions of conversation by nodding my head, doing an occasional eyebrow raise and focus on body language cues that signal whether to laugh and/or appear somber. Some part of me knows this is wrong. The thing is I’ve learned that people crave an audience not discussion. Is there a rule that says you have to pay attention?

Overly chipper people need to play in traffic. Not that I don’t appreciate a warm smile and friendly hello in the morning but sometimes I’m not for the bursting out of your skin smiling pure sunshine that I encounter on a daily basis from particular folk in my building. Go sit down with that foolishness I’m not about that life 24/7. In the morning I’m focused on the business at hand and believe me none of that makes me think of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.

Excessively emotional men and women agitate my life space. First emoting men are far worse than any dramatic female. Why? Well emoting men build bombs and shoot up post office buildings. That is a fact. Behind every man who’s ever been a serial killer or fake nice guy is a little boy that was rejected by some woman. I stand by that assertion and their emo arses are difficult to deal with when they’re all growed up. Man up my dude…although I hate that statement because what does it really mean.

The point? Yes the point! iCan’t with excessively emotional chicks tho, they cry at the drop of a frigging hat. Tears are not my forte. Tears are reserved for death, excruciating physical pain and gut busting comedy. If none of those apply to the situation keep your tears to yourself. Go woosah and let it out in one of the bathroom stalls but whatever you do don’t come to me with the sobs and snotty tissues because I will look at you like this o_____0!

I might need to talk to someone about this…yo no se. But I am a work in progress and as I said before #dontjudgeme!

What says you fine peeps are you willing to confess? I will say it makes you feel lighter about your feet! Identifying the problem is the true first step to tackling the beast. As always to share is to care and hashish!

Side note the blog challenge is dead. The topics going forward are not of any interest to me so I will be starting a new round of blogging. Either love me or leave me alone!


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