I can’t sing for shit. I can’t get lyrics right for shit. That doesn’t stop me.
I have participated in the Carnivale (Mardi Gras) Parade in Trinidad three times. In those carnival costumes… or non-existant costumes, rather. It’s the second biggest Carnivale in the world after Brasil’s. It’s the most amazingly fun experience I’ve ever had.
I recently made a coworker spit her coffee out (in my face) when I told her how old I was… she thought I was 24.
I think that if people are allowed to bring babies on the subway I should be allowed to bring my dog. Seriously… someone can bring their often screaming, sometimes smelly/spit up-y babies in strollers the size of Monstertrucks that jam into anyone’s ankles who don’t get out of the way fast enough and are usually accessoried with at least one if not two diaper bags that inevitably will take up at least three seats. but I can’t bring my dog who is a well behaved traveller and fits in my arms.
I am so fucking bored at my job… I need to be challenged, be creative, use my qualified skillsets, stay busy. I need the money.
I hate money. always sinking never afloat. I feel like I’m treading water in a sumo suit. actually, a sumo suit might float so make that jousting armour.
Speaking of which I have never been to Medieval Times. I want to go so bad. I don’t care how cheesy and overpriced it is. I want to yell Shakespearian insults at the opposing knights like ‘Thy Father is a Gorbellied Codpiece!’… and smell horsey smells.
I have this problem where I have a thing for guys who never live remotely near me. actually this is not my problem, this is their problem for living in the wrong place. yes. let’s roll with that.
sex. touching. caressing. cuddling. making out. sex. touching. caressing. cuddling. making out. sex. touching. caressing. cuddling. making out. sex. touching. caressing. cuddling. making out. my brain has apparently been taken over by that of a 13-yr-old who just hit puberty.
I threw cuddling in there to make it sound less like I had a one track mind.
I don’t understand people who sit forever in the bathroom to poop. I’m in and out… as quickly as possible.
I also always use the ‘disabled’ stall in public washrooms because the seat is usually taller which makes it pretty much normal sized for me.
I’m really dreading my next wax appointment… I have to find someone who’s good in Montreal. that can mean I find some bad first.
I’m Canadian/Dutch and speak both, as well as French and Flemish (which is a dialect of dutch with some french and german words thrown in to just make it more confusing) and some German and Spanish… I used to know Danish and Italian but have forgotten everything but swearing.
I could write a shit-tonne more and you’d still not have even scratched the surface about who I am.