Brain Dump Friday – It Took Me All Day To Get This Done, And I was Still Too Late

Yay! My favorite day of the week. The day when I’m not afraid to let you in. Well, I am, but I don’t admit it. I still unlock the door. Sometimes I wish I were from somewhere else. Kingman, Arizona is not an exciting place. Not that I have to be from somewhere exciting, but if I could have an accent, that would be great. Maybe I’ll just adopt one. Slowly, so no one thinks I’m going crazy, but in a year, maybe I’ll be from England, or…nope, it would have to be England. That’s the only one I’m even remotely good at. Irish would be cool. I’ve got a little bit of Scottish, but I can only say about three sentences…them I’m out. Australian would be great, but I slip into British. I can say one sentence in Indian. India, Indian, not American Indian. What would that sound like? I hope I’m not slipping into some sort of racist area. Obviously I didn’t pay attention when I was a kid… When my Dad was the manager of a business in Kingman, we did lots of business with American Indians. So…British, then. Someone once told me that I sound like I’m from Iowa. I wonder what that means. It probably means I say things like, “I seen…”, and “have you ate yet?”, and “supposably” (sorry Barry), and other grammatical horrors like that. I said something once to Barry and it sounded like I was taking on a Minnesota tone, so I laughed it off, and said, “Oh, my Minnesota is coming out”. He said to me, “You’re not from Minnesota. You’ve only been there three times, you don’t have any Minnesota in you”. He’s right, but it’s there, and sometimes it rears its very ugly head. All my rings are too big. They just come right off my fingers. That means no more hands in my pockets. Actually, I don’t really put my hands in my pockets…unless I have to, but not for random reasons. That sounds crazy. Who puts their hands in their pockets for no reason? I think it’s funny when truly geeky people talk in whatever code it is that they do, and then they expect everyone to understand what they’re saying. Like it’s not gibberish. Does anyone have a big secret? I can keep it. I hate not knowing anything, and trust me when I say, I know a lot less than you think. I promise not to tell. No one’s going to tell me anything…I just thought I’d throw it out there and try. I would also like to solve a mystery. There is a lot of 80’s hair out there. Still. That’s a mystery in itself. All I have to say to that is STOP. IT. NOW. I wonder sometimes what it’s like to have a secret buried in your psyche. Sometimes I wonder if I have one. Probably not. That would be exciting…and like I said, Kingman, Arizona is not an exciting place. It can be assumed, then, that nothing exciting can come from there. That is all.

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