| I think maybe it's an obsessive complusive behavior that I inherited from my mother, but I've realized that I am a picker. If it can be picked, I'll pick at it. Boogers, zits, scabs, sunburns, toejam, and whatever other foreign objects might be lying around my body. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't subconsciously do it in front of everyone. My mother is constantly telling me, "ANG! Stop picking your [nose, scab, etc.]! You're disgusting!" And also what makes it bad is I love to pick on other people. My son, for instance, I love to pick at him, mostly his nose, but I'm gentle with his delicate little nosey. My brothers inherited this trait also. It's so weird! My older brother loves to pick zits, his and other people's. If you got a zit that is ready to blow, just call my bro. Now my younger brother, he picks at his boogers all the time. It's so hilarious, I think he does it more than me. Ok, so we are all a bunch of pickers. I know it's gross, but it feels so good, and I know it's wrong, but it feels so right.
Why is it that my body temperature never feels even. I'm either too hot or too cold all the mutha fuckin time. I hate it! Just a few minutes ago I was sweating my balls off, so I turned on the air conditioner to only two degrees cooler than it was in here. Now, I'm freezing my nuts off. All I know is, if this is what menopause feels like, someone shoot me after my last egg drops. Screw this man.
It's been 29 days since my last cigarette.
|