Given the more serious topics I’ve spoken about, or rather the fact that I spoke about anything at all serious here, I feel the need to warn any future visitors not to expect anything from me, or not to expect anything specific from me. What I choose to talk about comes from whatever strikes me at that moment, and that changes like the wind. If you expect serious dissertation on a regular basis, this is not the place for you.
Yes, I opened on a serious topic. I’m from Boston and (this is possibly my biggest understatement ever) we had a really bad week here. Really bad. Really. And I will probably be talking more about that later.
My second topic came easy, too. I was asked an opinion question. From Dad. Too easy all around. No one gets me talking like my father does. And even if he’s shaking his head at me at this very moment, he knows this apple did not fall as far from the tree as he may have been hoping. And opinion questions? I have an opinion on everything. Did I say “everything”? Everything. Even if I didn’t I could make one up and argue it passionately.
This does not mean I will be using this as any type of political soapbox. I’m the least political person I know. If you ask me which side I’m on my answer would probably be something along the lines of “Tastes Great”. I do not participate in political debates. Period. I may talk about something that may be discussed in politics, but usually that has to do with the fact that a lot of the political points of discussion are of subject matter that have nothing whatsoever to do with politics and instead have more to do with personal choice. Opinion. MY area of expertise.
So, what should you expect here? Anything. And absolutely nothing. Don’t expect to learn anything here. Opinions aren’t for teaching. I will only talk about my children if they completely piss me off or do something so ridiculously stupid I think the world should know, or if mention of them pertains to the subject at hand. This is MY playground. I don’t give out parenting tips (I can hear the BAHAHAHAHAs from my friends at the thought of that!). There will CERTAINLY be no talk of cooking unless I’m talking about someone cooking for me, or passing out a recipe in hopeful anticipation that someone actually will. I am a Goddess, but not of the Domestic type. I am quite the optimist, too. I have been called a “fucking cheerleader” on more than one occasion—and it was never meant as a compliment. My rose-colored glasses are streak-free and as sparkly and shiny as my tiara.
Use this place as a coffee break. Consider this the more wordy cereal box you would pick up and read at breakfast. Some of you may use the “couch surfer” approach, where you flick through many channels until you stop on one just by accident and leave it there for a moment.
Take note: you may find you’ve read two whole paragraphs before you realize to your horror that I’ve been discussing my hair, or shaving my legs, or 80’s music…or even sex (I’m in my 40’s. It comes with the territory.). Yes, those are REAL subjects to me.
If my warnings here haven’t said enough, consider my title. My age, love of my hair and mention of my fantasy life are given away immediately. And “Confessions of…”?—sounds like any movie-of-the-week on Lifetime or smutty autobiography. How serious do you really expect me to be?
You have been warned. And you have just lost 46 seconds or so OF YOUR LIFE that you will never get back (depending on how fast you read).