How does a grown woman nearly drown in the shower?!? Well, first you start by taking a huge swig of mouthwash... get into the shower while swishing, and have some sort of communications meltdown between your brain and your throat. Somehow, get mouthwash into your lungs and start choking... Yeap, true story from this weekend. By the end of the shower I was still coughing up mouthwash-tasting-blue-tinged-froth out of my lungs.
I know I'm not the only one that has done something this stupid. I also know that I'm not the only one to get frustrated and ticked-off at myself for doing some of this stupid shit. Seriously, though, I may be the only one who gets SO ticked that they start talking to (yelling at) themselves with such ferocity that their spouse will look up, suddenly startled, and say, "I just caught that, and I KNOW that I didn't do THAT, so who are you talking to (yelling at) since I know (now) it isn't me?"
What other lunatic do you know that can be indecisive about going to the bathroom. Yeah, I said it, you didn't misread that. You start to head down the hall, but like three steps down the hall you remember something quick that you need to do in the kitchen, so you turn around, and then your realize that you really do have to pee, and it becomes an internal debate about which you're going to do first. Stupid.
Or like forgetting to eat... My sister, by the way, totally thinks this is hilarious ~ in a I-thought-there-was-survival-of-the-fittest-in-nature-so-how-the-hell-have-you-managed-to-survive-almost-38-years kind of way. It's true, I do. I totally forget to eat. I drink my coffee, I feed and change the munchkin, I do housework and laundry, and the like, and sometime around 4 pm I'll be sitting in front of the computer when my stomach will start growley-hurting and it usually takes me several minutes of pondering my day before I'll realize that I haven't eaten so much as a goldfish cracker all day. That growley-hurting is called HUNGER ya dumbass! Pop something in your piehole... DUH!
What kind of scares me about this stupidity... first of all, it's happening more often. Not like put-her-in-a-home often, but like once a week-ish at minimum. Secondly, I'm getting older, even though I haven't hit forty yet. In this particular situation, this is not a bonus. Think about it, if I'm not even forty and I'm getting this bad, I won't be fit to live on my own past, say, 45...? I'll be frying my shoes and drinking confetti. I'll drown in the shower for real because I'll be snorting body wash ~ because it smells good. By then I'll be defrosting water for dinner. I mean, if I'm acting this dain-brammaged now... OMG!
How screwed will I be in a few years? I'll be calling my own son by the (wrong) name Skippy. Eventually everyone will be Skippy ~ oh, wait, that has actually already happened... but by then, I'll do it cause I really can not remember people's correct names, instead of just being a wise ass. I already get lost in strip-malls, will I not be able to get to the gas station that is 4.6 miles away and one left turn out the driveway? I could get so bad that I forget how to make coffee! Naaah.
OK, so I've got that going for me... But really, c'mon... I'm becoming the person that Bill Engvall referred to when he said that stupid people should wear signs ~ so you know they're stupid and don't ask them anything or rely on them for anything. I can tell at this point, that it's a progressive stupidity disease, so I'm putting in my request now. Mr. Engvall, where's my sign?