On the Topic of No Topics 6 - Mission Trip Musings

There are two primary reasons why I haven't written anything this month. The first is that I have been on a mission trip with my youth group. The second is that during the time of my absence (less than a week mind you) my roommate ate my box of cereal - all of it. And yes, lack of Lucky Charms does indeed play into that; my brain is powered by food. Modified corn starch and high fructose corn syrup send it into overdrive.

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I spent most of my time on the mission trip alone and in deep thought....some thoughts more fleeting than others.

I was really sad that I didn't get to see my cat Mayhem before I left. He is living with a neighbor across the street, for the time being because Kay is allergic, but at least I can visit him whenever I please.
 He is still planning world domination to my knowledge; once he escapes through the front door he can really put his plan into motion. Until then, I can only pray that his farts are not nearly as horrific as before. Heaven forbid I have to write about that again!

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One of the things I didn't miss was living in constant fear that I have failed my house-wife lessons. I didn't have to remember all the steps of operating the laundry machine, or dreading that the dishwasher would flood the kitchen in a sea of bubbles.

Kay is a professional at keeping her house spotless. But I myself do not have a sixth sense that allows me to see dirt on a molecular level. However, my friend's father can. Their whole family inherited an innate dirt radar. And when I go to their house, I am made to do chores. It usually begins with dusting, most often in areas that look perfectly fine to me. If it was allowed, I would be content with eliminating all the unseen dirt with a leaf blower.

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I discovered that my desire for others not to spend money on me even when it comes to buying me food is causing for me to be at war with myself yet again.  Half of my brain resides in my stomach.  But for months now, I have resisted the temptation to ask for food.  

The result is most perplexing: the vast majority of my pants no longer fit.  Should I be happy that I am approaching a size 10 in the children's section?  I don't know what would be more burdensome to all those who have taken on my living expenses, food or pants.  

I can't choose between 99 cent jeans found on 99 cent Mondays at Savers, or a multitude of 99 cent bags of Flaming Hot Cheetoes.  It is quite the conundrum.

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There is a truck that drives around Tokyo, lined with concrete slabs.  For as little as 200 yen, customers can buy dishes and smash them, writing the worries on plates and hurling them against the wall lined with swear words.  It is a form of therapy...and I really wish something like that existed where I live.

That is why Hari and I might just come up with our own.  I hope it is a plan that works out - building our own wall in the middle of the desert with all our favorite fictional cuss words scribbled on it.  I can't help but wonder if constructing it is even legal...

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If I were an animal, I would be a seagull. I discovered this while eating dinner alone on the beach and watching those pesky creatures try to steal my lamb (we had ethnic foods every night....lamb is heavenly by the way).

I steal food. I am the definition of annoying.  People want to throw things at me; most resist the urge because it would be seen as cruelty.

Such is my fate.  They are most socially awkward animals on the face of the earth.

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I really enjoy that song "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars. If some guy sang that to me, he would earn a lot of points.

I think I am ok with admitting it because this will never happen. As I have said before, I am man repellent. And about as appealing as a broken doorbell.

I really have no idea why I came up that that as an analogy, but I think it works. It was difficult to narrow it down. I have limited knowledge of the male species. So I couldn't come up with many inanimate objects that wouldn't amuse them.

If you still don't get the idea, they do say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I have two pictures. I am about as desirable as this:








Pardon my Tumblr moments.  That site is really rubbing off on me and severely killing the writer in me.  How sad it is that I can no longer write anything remotely good.  Yes, I do blame Tumblr.