The Bars (short and sweet)

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They're difficult to approach.   I do have rabbit ears when it comes to waving around the word "retard".  Not because I've known people that have fallen into that "category" so much as I have fallen into that category kicking and screaming and have grown to appreciate it through the years as a very and very viable and conscious segment of society.

It's not some sort of syndrome or some sort of recognition and therefore adoption.  It's reel and real. Much more real than reel.  I've done a lot of things to accommodate for my "deficiencies", some more successful than others.  I'm still not sure if an attempt at self diagnosis is a paltry cry for help for socio-societal issues and maladjustment or not, but I soldier on and that's cool.

Sometimes it's really thrilling to fit it in successfully like a bandit, however, sometimes I do latch on to other people around me that appear to be similar or at least similarly categorized and otherwised appropriately boxed off and well segregated.  Not necessarily in a bad way.  People that do not remember to shower or pick their eyes.  People that do no clip their nails or cannot do so.  People that can only talk if they can see the left ear of the person they are talking to.  People they can only talk to if they have a lock of their hair in their own pocket.  regular things, ya know?  Is it aggravating? Yeah, absolutely.  Do you find ways around it?  Yeah, absolutely.

Who am I to get mad?

Let's keep this bitch short and sweet, honey bee!

I didn't get around to talking about what I wanted to talk about, but
I flattened out some of the da'gum'errs and that's mighty fine, I'll take it.
I hope you will too.
I promise I'll be back soon, but I hate promising anything, but I promise I'l be back soon.






I'll finish this thought:

Never felt bad with my bulbous nose tween thighs.



To be continued: