unjoiner

i generally don't like to participate.  in anything at all, really.  particularly sports.  anything that involves competition.  see, i dont like to fail.  i just don't.  so instead i don't enter and therefore never fail.  fancy plan, eh?  meh.  in fact.  i often like to induce unjoining.  like the time i joined catechism classes solely to convince my friend (who was force by her parents to attend ccd) to ride our bikes not to the church, but the playground around the corner, instead.  i'm also the one that got us in trouble with the nuns when i convinced chrissy to dump our plastic rosary beads (in ziploc baggies with our names in permanent marker on the outside) in the alley on the way home from ccd classes one afternoon.  give me a break, i was only like eight.  but even then, you see, i had the unjoining tendencies.  i could tell you stories of how i unjoined gymnastics for myself (and a friend, thank you very much) when our coach yelled at us for no reason.  but i won't.

i was an honor student.  all good grades, except for that occasional d in gym class for failure to participate.  i'm sorry, i'm fundamentally opposed to dodgeball.  as far as i was concerned, my short, balding, iron-pumping, wrestling-coach gym teacher could bite my tush.  it wasn't fair and i wasn't playing.  i won the battle eventually.  i never did do anything in class, but he passed me with a c in the end. i figure he thought i had a point and didn't want to lose his dodgeball lesson plans because of my loud mouth. 

i have a friend just like me in this regard.  a loud mouth pain in the butt that likes to challenge the rules.  she and i went to the pumpkin patch recently, along with mamaloo.  while we were looking at the animals, we discussed how we're three-degrees removed from the guy who started nanowrimo and how it's way too much committment for either of us.  also while we were walking through the animal barn, i stopped to chat with a cute about-four-year-old girl giggling at the ducks and the goats behind the fences.  i noticed her mom's lovely copper hair and nice booty (firm, round, nice smooth line into her thigh).  i moved on and shuffled z out.  turns out, it was molly ringwald's rear i was checking out.  according to mamaloo, who was adorably starstruck.  i was just stupid because i didn't even realize it and then i felt like a dolt because i'm sure she thought i was chatting up her child to get close to her.  but whatever. 

so this month, i'm going to post every day.  but i'm not joining, oh no.  that's not why i'm doing this.  it's because i have lots of inane things to tell you.  like how my husband wants to live off the grid by manufacturing biodiesel in our garage.

Comments

[mamaloo]

for the record it really *was* molly ringwald, not just a redhead with a nice ass. I'm a geeky child of the eighties, I saw john hughes films over and over, sixteen candles was my favorite yadda yadda. I'd know that face and those lips anywhere.

[cloudscome]

Me too. I'm certainly NOT promising to post every day for a month. Why would I want to threaten everyone with my constant posting?

[Green]

I'm a big fan of not trying anything where I'll fail either.

[Andy]

We missed you by a day! An employee was telling us she got to meet Molly Ringwald the previous day and that her daughter was with her. So funny.