Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Sprite Bottle:1 , Ashley :0

Like an idiot I decided to open a sprite bottle with a knife. It doesn't take a genius to realize that this was a bad idea....at the moment I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. It was one of those times where you see yourself doing something utterly stupid and yet, you are incapable of stopping your ridiculous actions. You are on the outside looking in. Cringing as the knife slips off the plastic.

Needless to say I cut myself....badly. And as my blood flew across the room and onto my freshly made ham sandwich I knew, that I Ashley, am indeed a moron.

The sprite bottle won this round. I could blame it on the cold, and the ninja grip that my honey used to tighten the little fucker, but the truth is I was just stupid.

Note to readers: do not try to open a bottle with a knife, it will not work, and you will in fact cut yourself.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Dork-tastic

Yes, that is a word. Well in my dictionary anyways. Along with fugly, fubar, ri-donk-ulous, and many other ridiculous words. I use dork-tastic to describe myself. Recently, I have realized that I am terrible at first impressions, or adult conversations in general. I wonder how in the world I ever survived high-school. Back then I was a little bit better at faking it. It's not that I am shy or unconfident. I am just really bad at first impressions.

I don't know what to say, and what I do say comes out in a strange jumble of crazy. Afterwards, I run the words I've said through my mind and cringe. Why can't conversations be like writing. Where in the hell is the social backspace?

So this revelation makes me realize that things like book-signings, and tours in general are a very bad idea for me. I've had a couple local stores offer to carry my books or have a signing and I always decline. I want to be successful but the actual process of meeting my fans scares the ever living crap out of me.

I am a hermit.

I am way to okay with my hermitness. <---pretty sure that's another made up word.

So how does one survive this vial thing called being social? I wish I knew. When I was younger it was a whole lot easier. Now a majority of my days are filled with arguments with five year olds, reading, and falling into my writing. None of which are all that great for conversations with actual people.

In conclusion I just needed a little venting space. It's better to write it here than say it out loud anyways. At least here I have the backspace button.









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