As most do, I dislike it when people get or take the wrong impression of me.

It makes me feel uneasy. Like I am committing a crime. A fraudster.

I mean eek so just so you all know who I am, here‘s a small part of me…

Just because I do not take you up on discussions, yet let you speak a few words or sentences about your beliefs. Does not mean that I agree with them. I am not a JesusJockey nor am I an Atheist. I really don’t care which way you pray. Although if I were to swing more one way, it would be towards Atheism. I’m sorry but it is easier for me to believe that man came from ape. You only have to look at some of our more backward species…and NO I am not talking about Hillbillies, well, not specifically. Ha.

Over the years, I have learnt [for the most part] to pick my battles. You don’t work in the hospitality industry and not learn THAT bloody lesson. Usually my words are of a soothing… you’re behaving like a bloody idiot aren‘t ya…nature. I have that knack. A smarter sober person might take affront, at first, but then I’d use my engaging grin. Then they know I am just funning with them. Or am I? If all else failed I’d have Security paged. And yes some nights it DID feel good to have five or so strapping black-suited fellows come stampeding in my direction. But I digress.

I find Americans, at first, can be easily angered. Why is that? I guess you guys are so used to other countries people finding faults in you. Dunno? I as an Australian, love finding the faults in any nationality. Makes them human. If you know an Aussie, you’ll know this to be true. But what you also know to be true we laugh and laugh bloody hard at our OWN faults too.

Just because I’m staring intently at you when you are spouting off about a subject that you so unintelligently are talking about. Does not mean that I am basking in your knowingness. What I AM thinking is…yer a bloody idiot aren’t ya…But that’s your problem to fix. Knowledge is out there. Find it and please find it fast. Okay, THIS one WAS directed at a Hillbillie or two, or three dozen.

I swear. And some days I swear a bloody lot. Oh and bloody is not the swear word I’m talking about either.

I smoke.

I smoke pot. And I try to smoke it on a regular basis. Don’t judge me! Nah, I don’t really care if you judge me for that. I figure I am forty-five and paying my bills. No kids at home. Makes me happy. Not all pot-happy-hippie-happy. But happy enough to be nice to people. Maybe not nice enough to my husband, if he was telling this story. Because I smoke it, I am more tolerant of the [what I see as] stupidity [and they see as fact] that surrounds me, day in and day out.

Bloody Hillbillies drove me to the pot-pipe. HaHa.

I don’t smoke it all the time and I don’t smoke it anywhere else. If I’m in my own home, behind my own walls. It’s none of anyone’s business. Just like it is none of mine when they are strung up, with a ribboned ball in their mouth, waiting deliciously, waiting agonizingly, while the wife stands behind with a paddle in her hands. But I digress.

I am getting a tad waffly. It’s the smoke. I talk, in this case type, when I have a buzz going on.