Random

Preface: Hi, I'm aarwenn. I am opinionated. And I exaggerate. Yes! Me! I do this! (Audience: Noshit.) And I tend to be a little self-deprecatory in my posts. Which is mainly due to the fact that, duh, I'm already WRITING ABOUT MYSELF, so writing about myself in an overly self-congratulatory manner--or even a slightly self-congratulatory manner--would make this blog no more than my own personal creamfest, and no one wants to read that, ever. (Audience: Use of the word "creamfest" was gratuitous, unecessary, and frankly gross.) (Me: Whatever.)

(Side note: I'm eating a snack of Black Peppered Cashews and Tamari Almonds from Trader Joe's. I should never buy Black Peppered Cashews again. Way too good.)

Which is why when my mother occasionally calls, concerned over This Post or That Post, I think, Doesn't the woman KNOW me? I mean, really, she's known me for 25, almost 26 years, and the LT knew enough to discount half of what I say after three weeks.

For example, the below snippet, taken from a phone conversation not too long ago:

Me: (made some accidental Freudian slip)
LT: (laughing) You know, I still remember the time you came to my house, before we were dating. I asked you over to help me pick out curtains or possibly help paint, and instead you drank my wine and fell asleep on my couch.
Me: That was not my fault! You never fed me!
LT: Most adults feed themselves on a regular basis! How was I to know that you'd pass out on my sofa if I didn't feed you?
Me: Oh yeah? Well. (Struggles for a comeback.) Look on the bright side. You got to hear me ramble incoherently on low blood sugar.
LT: And you were in rare form, too. Remember that comment about what would or wouldn't fit in your mouth?
Me: You could probably start your own blog, someday. "Accidentally Dirty Things My Girlfriend Has Said."
What he didn't need to say: Why bother? You do all the work for me by writing it on your OWN blog.
And then I would have said, because I like being stubborn: Not this time, sucker!

...Dammit.