Confessional Farting.

So it's Friday night and I'm sitting here alone listening to iTunes. I made some really fantastic shredded beef burritos earlier and I have a hell of a lot of leftovers. This always happens because I never learned how to cook for any less than six people. Still, I'll be working on the leftovers for days. I'll probably freeze the rest and I can have some jazzy burritos whenever, no fuss. Maybe I'll take some to the folks as payback for always sending me home with food.

Point here is, I cook for six and I'm just feeding one. Not counting the dogs, they don't eat people food. Lou used to be really bad about begging, and I don't even want to get Charlie started. That there's a tangent, and it's been known to happen, people. Anyhow, I am sitting here alone on a Friday night and I am absolutely sure I bring this on myself. Though Primus is playing and it's pretty swell.

You'd think Charlie was the one that ate the burrito, with the frequency and stink of his farts lately. Man that dog farts a lot. I'm not just blaming the dog, my farts have a sort of spicy aftertaste, where Charlie's farts are more earthy. I'm sure that's more than you wanted to know.

Okay, I think it's safe to say I'm not going to be coherent tonight.

My problem is I'm not outgoing and I have trouble starting conversations. When I do get going, when I'm really building a rapport, the insecurities kick in and I switch into Don't Fuck It Up mode. Which just spirals straight down into failure. See, I have a nasty habit of saying really stupid things, mostly in front of an audience. I remember this flaw of mine at the most inopportune times, therefore making it a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

There's one of my farts. Light, not unlike a nice vinegary pea soup. I think I've made my point, here.

I'd really like to think this blog will show up on Google searches other than for panty-sniffing. I'm not holding my breath, though.

Anyhow, the solution seems pretty simple. Go out, meet people, don't worry about being stupid. Putting it together though, there lies the problem. I'm not very comfortable around people I don't know well. I've tried to force it, with varying results, but there's always the feeling that I'm forcing it. I always end up eventually spazzing out. Then I feel ridiculous and like a coward.

I'm the only one of my circle of friends who isn't domesticated. One morning I woke up and realized I'm the fuck up of the group. Granted, it's a tiny group, and there are a lot of people a lot more fucked up than I am. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being the fifth wheel, though. I need to make changes.

Of course I've been saying I need to make changes for years and haven't changed anything. Not permanently, anyway. I always end up falling back into the same old rut sooner or later. At some point, though, I'm not going to have a choice, and that's going to be way more uncomfortable than it would be changing without being forced into it. 

I also refuse to give up on the old dreams I had when I was a kid. Even though there are days where I have no clue what I'm doing and I feel like an idiot for even trying.

Here I am writing a fucking confessional and I'm not even drinking. If I was drunk I'd at least have an excuse. 

Here we have a picture of me. Please enjoy and think of dog farts.

Wait, that came out wrong. I don't want you to associate my face with dog farts. Unless you're into dog farts. That's kind of weird but if it gets you going by all means, enjoy the dog farts. 

Which brings me to a story. *My brother apparently obsesses over my sister-in-law's farts. He listens for them and keeps a chart of what they smelled like and how long they lingered. 

Anyhow I think I'm going to stop now. Be excellent.

*Oh yeah, that part about my brother obsessing over his wife's farts, I made half of that up. I don't know if he keeps charts about the smell and duration. I just thought it would be funny.