What is the exact location of my head in my ass?

As I've stumbled through my life there have been occasion where I might have made some bad decisions. I like to think of myself as perfection in motion but what I want to think and what is real don't always match.

Take today for example. I entered in approximately 4000 lines of data into a spreadsheet. Upon completion my numbers did not add up. Surprise, surprise. **said like Gomer Pyle** I should have done a better job at spot checking along the way rather than waiting till I was finished.

I sat back, sighing aloud with disappointment, preparing to find my errors and said to my self , "You really had your head up your ass on this one."

That phrase made me giggle for a moment then spiraled me into a tangent to divert myself from addressing the priority work at hand. I pondered at what exact location did my head reach inside my ass? It definitely pushed its way past the rim but didn't quite reach the inner sanctum of the bowels. I say it sat somewhere between the two sphincters.

Pausing for a moment to remove the visuals this line of thinking was creating I decided to get back to work before my head reached breakfast.

Fatbook Kimmie, It doesn't get more unattractive

There are those who are naturally photogenic, the lucky few who can't take a bad picture. I see thier photos all the time and I am in awe at how they know how to smile or hold their head. Is it the shape of their face? Is it their natural beauty? I on the other hand would be shunned by society if it wasn't for Photoshop.

I dread someone taking my picture because I know I will have three extra chins from the way I pulled my chin back into my head, or the sunlight will be dancing off of my wrinkles playfully exaggerating their depth.

Just the other day I sent an un-doctored photograph of me to my sister and immediately she warned me never to do that again.

I decided to take a personal photo challenge as a way to prove my theory that I wasn't decrepit looking in reality. I printed a recent photo of myself and took it into the bathroom, stared into the mirror and compared the face I saw versus the face in the photo. I moved my head in as many directions and positions as possible to replicate the person in the picture, noting each position that I should never do in public.

I then decided to check myself out in the elevator lobby mirror to see if lighting is a harmful factor in picture taking. Nay, nay to ever doing something like that again. First I was caught doing it and during my explanation to the sneaky bastard I only came off as a narcissistic psycho (who has since been obviously avoided in the lobby). Second and lastly I felt like an idiot for spending this much time on a pointless project.

I have come to the conclusion that the camera is an evil enemy that has taken away the joy of capturing memories for me. This whole stupid investigation has caused me to now wear scarves. In a picture taken of me last weekend it looked like a Shar Pei was attacking my neck with all the wrinkling and sagging that mean camera added.

Damn camera. I am going to stick to Fatbook images from now on, at least people will laugh with me and not at me.

Listening Skills Better Learned Young

Have you ever had something tip toe past your taste buds so delicious that you gobbled it up like a prison inmate on cake day? Or how about a moment that was absolutely amazing you over thought it into a memory, fully ending what could have been enjoyed much longer if you just let it happen and shut up? We have all said things that we can never take back and swim in the sea of regret for longer than needed.

I have recently given up my need of controlling my brain and am allowing it to roam freely in the mind fields of others perceptions. My brain has diligently relied upon my education and experiences that have served me well these last 44 years. I am grateful for all that my brain has soaked up in this time.

Though recently in a semi sober state I was conversing quite freely with my boyfriend about various non- consequential topics when a memory popped up that had radically changed my life at the time it happened. I did one of those long awkward pauses that made Santiago think I was listening to him and was pondering his subject deeply. As I shook myself back to the present I had to explain to him that I had left his conversation before it started and was off in my own world. I don't think he appreciates when I do that.

When I was in 3rd grade my class took a field trip to the San Diego zoo. I am pretty sure it was a great day for me because on the bus ride home I was laughing with a group of boys and was feeling good about myself. The girl sitting next to me then said to me in a tone only girls use with other girls, "You are so weird. I don't like you." Even typing this now makes me shudder the same way it did when she said it.

My goodness that little vixen really did a number on me with that comment. I remember not allowing myself to cry until I was safely out of sight of all the other kids and in the safety of my mother. I am sure she said what I needed to hear, and most importantly what I know now, but just like I do with Santiago all the time, I probably wasn't listening to her but to my own brain.

I think up until the other day that comment has affected my whole approach to my social life. It seems so pathetic now but for the last 4 decades it has been a part of who I am. If I had only been able to understand at the time she probably didn't have fun that day or was jealous because I might have been laughing with a boy she liked that comment would not have affected me for so long.

As I recounted this tale to Santiago he began telling me of a similar situation in his life, I think, I was kind of listening.

I have decided as of last night to start listening and understanding where the perceptions of others are coming from and why they believe what they do. Maybe throw in some questions instead of just assuming my perception of what they are saying is gospel. My dear late Francis was constantly badgering me with, "The things people say come from their perspective and are not always about you." I wonder if he meant I wasn't a good listener and was selfish? I don't know, I rarely listened to him for long.

I checked out miss Jenny L. on Facebook and she is still pretty, seems happy and is doing alright for herself. Crap! I was hoping she was a large, greasy mess.