Bold Sins, Loving Touch and CRAISINS,

I should start by saying that I love Craisins. That's it. I love them. I am eating them now (I say "eating" because there is no sort of "snacking" with these babies.) and I can't stop. Maybe I should boil them down and mainline them. I may or may not need a support group.

Speaking of love...

I love Hugh Laurie. I pretty much think that he and I should be married. We could get married and serve Craisins at the wedding. Sweet Jesus, why haven't his people called me yet to arrange this fantastic idea?

*sigh*

Whatever.

Is it just me or, after a certain amount of time passing, do you just not remember how much you truly enjoy human touch. I'm not talking about high fives and hugs from friends and family (or restraining children -- no matter how gratifying that may be....), I'm talking about the touch from someone who looks at you and knows that you're the one that they want to be with. When you've had it for a while and it suddenly goes then, of course, you miss it a whole lot. After months, you seem to miss it less, then after years you seem to forget. You forget how nice it is to be wanted, to be held.

Or maybe we don't forget.

Maybe we convince ourselves that we don't need it, no, convince ourselves that we don't want it.

Whatever it is, bitterness or becoming jaded over time, I don't know, but I do know that no matter how much one (read: me) tries to ignore the long for someone's touch, or use that longing to enhance her comic repertoire, there's an undeniable void that can only be filled by Craisins. I seriously fucking love these things. Anyways the void can only be filled by someone who reciprocates the feeling you cast to them. Maybe it's the serious influx of shitty romantic comedies (who the fuck am I kidding? I love them and I wish that life -- more specifically, mine -- played out like they do) but it's been a few years since I've had that somebody, since I've had that touch and I realize, a little more each day how I miss it. Now, don't get me wrong. There's definitely the need for carnal, clothes tearing off, throw you up against the wall touch, too, and I love that (Seriously, I really love that kind), but what I miss more is someone to be here. I miss it all. Being goofy, silly, ridiculous, and sarcastic; I miss staying at home cooking and eating together (do you know how ridiculously depressing it is to eat alone?), or goofing off in a store with products that the seller is stupid enough not to put into 30 layers of packaging, or debating song lyrics while driving (or drinking) (but not both at the same time because that would be bad) shit. DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE. Okay, I think I redeemed myself there. Whew. Shit. 20 points for the movie (and a 1/2) reference I made back yonder. Enough sappy shit. Jeez.

Whatever.

So I went grocery shopping today with the intentions of cooking more (1 so that I actually eat and 2 so when I do eat it's not just cereal or eggs.). My grampa and gramma would be proud of what I bought and with what I plan to cook them into. Actually I know that they are, in fact, proud because (you bet your ass) I called them and told them exactly everything I purchased and what my meal plans are. I did this because (I am a 5 year old, apparently) I am excited to take a positive step in the "grown up" world (I'm 29, I suppose I should at least make a baby step to being an adult).

ANYWAYS

I went shopping and this woman and her two kids apparently thought the aisles of Fred Meyer were the illegitimate love child of a basketball court and a boxing ring. I'm not kidding. These fuckers had me boxed in at the eggs. I am minding my own business making sure that the eggs I am choosing are not broken (learned from experience on that -- ALWAYS check your eggs) when I turn around and the two kids have the basket in the middle of the aisle (people were actually having to bump their cart in order to pass) as the kids are pulling UFC moves on each other while screaming and laughing hysterically. Mom, instead of telling her kids to take 20 cc's of CALM THE FUCK DOWN is 15 feet away at the cheese where she proceeds to throw two packs of shredded cheese into the cart as if she's shooting the 3 at the buzzer. WHERE THE FUCK DO THESE PEOPLE COME FROM and why do they inevitably find their way to me?! Oh. I forgot to add that both of the children were wearing moon boots, too. FOR FUCKS SAKE.

By the way I should throw out that I absolutely LOVE Chelsea Handler.

and

I am excited to see the movie He's Just Not that Into You because it is one of my favorite books (so hilarious, but every word of it is SO true). If you haven't read the book then you need to do so. Now. The movie looks hilarious. If the movie is not good then I will be unable to post anymore blogs (wipe the excitement off your face, asshole, the movie doesn't come out until Feb 6) because I will be in prison for 1. killing those who made the movie and 2. clubbing baby Koalas because if I'm going down then I'm going in a blaze of glory.

So I should go now because I'm tired of being clever and the kind of brilliance I emit is exhausting.

Until next time, kids, remember my friend T's motto: "If you're gonna sin, then sin boldly." And there you have it.

s.