September 26, 2010

Amanda As An Adjective

Some things are just very 'Amanda' about me - being an asshole, for instance, and my near mythical lack of patience. Friends of mine have been known to describe a public tongue lashing to a perfect stranger as "going all Amanda" on someone. Anyway, the point is I'm realizing that a few of those things that are/were so concretely 'Amanda' maybe aren't so much anymore. And that kinda freaks me out.

One of these would be the idea of my being a runner. Look, if I am running, you can bet your candy ass that someone is chasing me. People who run for fun are alien to me. How is this fun? A high? Yeah, because I'm hyperventilating! Yet somehow, I find myself wanting to start running. It's like, who the fuck am I? I don't even know me anymore!

I do however, happen to know exactly where this shit is coming from. My neighbor. Okay, some of the blame lies with Deb but my neighbor is taking the big hit.

I've been trying to come up with a blog name for her. 'Skinny Bitch' keeps popping up for some reason. I mean if she feels comfortable enough to give me a pillbox that implies I need medication, which I adore, I figure it's okay to call her a skinny bitch, right?

Well, this running shit is all Skinny Bitch's fault. She completed like a hexathalon or something this past weekend. I completed a chocolate mousse sundae. Why can't she be into competitive eating or compulsive YouTube viewing?

I'm sure you've noticed this whacked out cooking shit with me, too. What's that about? I don't cook. And by don't, I mean my lack of cooking ability is legendary - much like my temper. The first time I cooked bacon I asked where the oil was.

What? Why would you need oil to cook bacon? my friend asked. I don't know "why", but there's always grease in a pan of bacon so where does that come from, hu, smart ass? I retorted. And she hasn't shut up about it since. That was 17 years ago.

There have been other, similar incidents since. Now all of a sudden I'm whipping up homemade pizza, apple cobbler from apples we picked ourselves can we say Fucking Yuppie?, and chicken fettuccine alfredo from scratch. It's like I'm not even me anymore!

But I gotta be honest and say I actually like cooking for a couple of reasons. When it comes out right, I thoroughly enjoy the accolades and when it goes wrong, it's an excellent excuse for me to throw a fit and pout - two areas in which I also dominate.

There are a couple 'Amanda' things I have managed to stay true to; I still don't drive a mini-van and I never will. I don't give a damn how convenient they are, not gonna do it! Also, I still fold up junk mail and put it into the postage paid envelope they sent with it and mail it back. I always smile when I put those envelopes into the mailbox. Because I'm an asshole. Oh, and I still don't/can't iron. So all in all, my poor husband is still screwed in the wife department. 
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