A blonde moment

So, today I had a blonde moment, something I’m not particularly proud of, and I would not share it with the world, but I laughed at myself, so I decided everybody else could too.

It all started last night.

I was walking my dog and talking on the phone. Once I returned home, I placed my dog’s leash on the top of my trunk, as I proceeded to open my car and close the windows I had left open earlier that day; I was still talking on the phone meanwhile.

Then I closed my car and went into the house and proceeded with my nightly routine. I did the same the next day in the morning, when I prepared for work.

Well, as you can imagine, I forgot the leash on the trunk of my car and this morning, as I was driving to work I  noticed it. Funny think is I didn’t notice it until I was almost at work. Actually, I noticed it before the last turn on Foster, to my office, so all the people who drove behind me  probably wondered if I had had my coffee yet, or was I just some crazy woman behind a wheel. Eminent Danger!!

At least I gave them a good start to a cold day.

P.S. On another note, my mommy is coming back from Romania today, and although I couldn’t wait for her to return, now I’m a little queezy because she will drive me insane about wanting to move there myself in the winter. I’m not looking forward to that..hmm..not that much, no.

I care, I don’t care…Do you care?

Last night, as i was showering myself, I got to thinking, like I always do, about caring. Of course it was triggered by a conversation I had earlier that day, that total pushed me off the edge, but nonetheless, here are my thoughts on it.

Why is it that no matter what happens in our lives, even a little thing as being flipped off by the dude you didn’t let pass you, we always feel the need to tell someone about it? I noticed that i always have this need to tell people about every event taking place in my life, not even considering its worthiness or interest to the one it’s being told to. And this doesn’t stop here. I actually expect people to care about what I have to say, to comment, and of course to feel for me.

Well, that was old me. Now-a-days I try to keep stuff to myself because I just now realized that “every little thing” I care to share with the ones around me, eventually comes and bites me in the ass. It is very ironic how people seem to remember all the things that they’re not supposed to.

So anyways, I’ve been told that I am way to careless about my choice of words when it comes to expressing my interest or disinterest towards a particular topic or event, or comment, or whatever. This is true. I do not choose my words very wisely among friends. I don’t even know why for sure, I just know I don’t. In my little head, the logic is simple. I don’t need to sugarcoat myself around people that already know me. It makes me feel like a hypocrite, so I just don’t.

Even though I should probably change that, and be more sensitive about people’s feelings and expectations, I probably won’t. I’ve developed into who I am, and there is no more changing me. I don’t even think I want to. I might be harsh with words, but my intentions are never bad.

The truth of the matter is that everyone of us has something that they should change but they don’t. This is my thing. The way I accept my friends for who they are and how they are, I want and expect the same thing from them.

So, for all those who I have offended in the past with my crude way of commenting, just know that it will happen again and again, and you should have gotten used to it by now.

All those who know me, know for a fact that I’m there when I’m needed, and I always will be, no matter which way I express myself.

P.S. I think it’s totally fucked up when people give you fake sympathy, or fake interest, or fake attention.