Wednesday, February 16, 2005

I Grew Up to be a Ten Year Old Boy

That’s the best phrase ever. Yay for me, the phrase-maker. The “Term”-inator…(allowing myself a good chuckle) Okay, me stop now.

So, part of my social retardation stems from the fact that I—a 26 yr old woman who, usually, is pretty lady-like—possess the sense of humor of little kid. And, not just any kid: almost to the point of a prepubescent male.


  • I tell someone that I’m going to the restroom (why? I don’t know). They reply in the humorous tone that has been set between the two of us up to that point, saying:

    “Hope everything comes out alright.”

    And, me (having not heard that crude little gem before) burst into laughter as I congratulate him on a well executed and appropriate come back.

  • I stick my tongue out at people I adore.

  • “Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo” is in my top three of fav. movies. The number of times I’ve watched it has reached the early teens. (I can’t find the DVD that—against my “only child” nature—I have shared with my other housemates. I refuse to panic or threaten with kitchen knives. Until tomorrow.)

  • Sometimes I giggle when the elevator's automated voice says, “Going down.”

  • I’m the funniest person I know…I keep myself in stitches. I once told a friend, “I seem to be the only one that recognizes that I’m hilarious!” Poor souls, you.


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