Random bullshit

Well, on Facebook, the "25 random things about me" thing is circulating, but I don't have the energy for that, so I am just going to do some stream-of-consciousness type of random things about me and things I wonder about.

Lately, I can't get the question of what makes the wind blow out of my head. Wait... I mean, I keep wondering what makes the wind blow - not what makes the wind blow OUT OF MY HEAD. Just had to clarify. Like, I was watching the weather channel the other day, and the wind was 0, so I assume it was still as a churchmouse hiding from a cat. However, the next day, it was blowing like crazy, and I started thinking "what makes the wind blow"? Why is it one direction one day and another direction another day? Why is it a light breeze sometimes and a gale-force wind another time? We had an Alberta clipper come through a while ago, and bitch, that was nasty. So... what makes the wind blow? It boggles my fucking mind.

I am also puzzled about earwax - my kids ALWAYS have plugged ears, making it almost impossible to see if they have ear infections. What exactly is ear wax made of, what makes theirs so hard, and why do some people never have to worry about it? Boggles the fucking mind again.

Why do I poop before 10 each morning at work, but on weekends, I am plugged up like my colon has been zipped shut?

Why do people eat blue cheese when it smells like vomit?

Why does some people's BO smell like curry (when they aren't curry eaters?)

Why do manufacturers try to blend two scents together (I think I ranted about this on here before, but it's my blog and I'll repeat myself if I want to) - like why "vanilla lavender" in Downey? Why not just plain lavender?

Why do I love the scent of lavender so much? The Mrs. always makes fun of me because I love it so much, and she said one day "oooh, the manly scent of lavender in the house again" after I used some bath shit or something, and then she went on and on, going "Oh, JT had all his friends over, and the whole house stunk like lavender". But then right after that, we saw some special or something on scents, and apparently, the smell of lavender makes men horny or something, although I wouldn't say that it does that to me. I just probably have some childhood memory or something of it, because, you know me, I just repeat the past over and over.

Ok, sexual content coming up, so please, if you are a prude, please stop now, because I don't want to offend.
Ok, you were warned. My darling Mrs. was watching the Doctors one day, and they said men think of sex every 52 seconds, and that amazed her. So for days, she would just go "right now? What are you thinking of right now? Is it now?" And then she was all "you poor things.... how do you get anything done?" Anyway, I guess I need to clarify that we aren't thinking of hot, horny sex every 52 seconds, but sex does cross the mind constantly. And for some reason, I had the stupidest thing cross my mind the other day. It involves Oprah. Don't say I didn't give you the chance to quit reading. Anyway. Bitch was on or something and I just thought, "I bet Oprah hasn't given a blow job for a good 20 years." Now, the fact that this crossed my mind is a frightening testament to the 52 second extravaganza, but really, I am convinced it's true. Back in the day, when she was safe and fun and big and dressed like a female Cliff Huxtable, complete with yellow triangle earrings, I bet she was going down on Steadman like nobody's business. But then she lost the weight with old Bob, on and off, and got all self-helpy, and Gail left her hubby, and whatever, and I just know that she stopped seeing lil' Stead at eye-level, and indeed, I can hear her rambling to Gail on the phone in a tearful, self-absorbed voice, about how she just can't do that anymore because in doing so, she is sacrificing the woman in her soul, or some such bullshit. She'd be all "I had an 'a-ha' moment about how my soul was robbed each time I placed his penis in my mouth, and I refuse to play those power games anymore. I know why the caged bird sings." And Gail, since she knows which side her toast is buttered on, would be all "mmmm hmmmm, girl, say it" on the phone, whilst she's going down on Shemar Moore. Dr. Angelou would be all "the benediction of the woman who realizes her sensual power but knows how to restrain it frees the inner slave" or some such bullshit, and Oprah would be vindicated. Of course, Oprah would also soon stop allowing Steadman to go down on her, because she wouldn't want to be that vulnerable to man, choosing to please herself. So, I imagine Oprah now just does a swift, fast clitoral stimulation thing that lasts 14 seconds, but which she thinks is empowering. Now, this may all be a pile of bullshit, but I bet it's true. And again, why I thought of this may sound disturbing to you, but I blame it on the 52 second thing.

What other random things can I post about? OH, I know! This is sad. You know how Catholics are big on their novenas? And you know how in the classifieds you will see something from time to time thanking St. Jude or whatever? Well, one time I actually did a novena. I am not kidding you. I said it for 9 days, and I swear to God, it came true. But you know how you are supposed to promise to publish it after it comes true? I never did. I better find one and post it, just so that doesn't bother me. Isn't that so weird of me? But I swear, I said this prayer for 9 days, and it came true. Don't ever underestimate the power of prayer people. But I better find the novena and post it since it was like almost a decade since I did it.

I hate when musicians take themselves too seriously. Like did I tell you how I bought the new Killers album the day it was released? I bought it based on my love for "When you were young", from "Sam's Town", but I was so disappointed with this one. I do admit that I find "Human" sort of catchy, but I'll be fucking damned if I am going to sing "Are we human? Or are we dancer" out loud. What a pile of self-indulgent bullshit those lyrics are.

I dreamed again the other night I was smoking Export A Medium. Please, tell me, it's normal to still dream of smoking almost 7 years later. Please.

When I poop in the staff bathroom at work, I'll turn the tap on full-blast before I spray the glade, even though I know it smells like someone shit in a rosebush when I leave.

I always found Mrs. Huxtable to be a complete bitch as a mother.

Why is it that when you drink an XL Tim Horton's, your piss smells like coffee?

What the fuck is Jet Dry made of, anyway?

Why do I want a 5th child? What does that mean?

Am I delusional to think, at almost 39 years old, that I will someday be close friends with Stevie Nicks? Does that make me crazy?

Ok, I think I've shared too much, yet again. But don't ever say you want me to blog if you don't want to hear me uncensored.

Peace out, biotches. Word to your muthas.