Hysterically Heddy

I don't understand how there are people in the world who don't like to pop pimples. They don't experience the multitude of joy that I do? They don't watch those little pores divulge their deepest secrets to me as I watch in all my enthusiasm? They don't see their pimples shoot across the counter onto the mirror and want to show their girlfriend how mighty the zit was? How is this possible? My girlfriend and I spend some of our quality alone time watching Dr. Pimple Popper, and other shows on the internet, and then taking our crappy tools and pestering each other with them. Just today I cleansed her nose while she attacked my chin. Couples that pop pimples together stay together. [This is currently a theory, but can't be proven until one of us dies while we're still together, so hopefully several years from now.] I actually thought about pursuing a career in stabbing people's acne with a sharp needle for the beautiful puss-nuggets inside, but I get pa...

I need an adult with this blog thing. Either the website I'm utilizing for my blogs is a hotmess, or I'm just not able to figure the program out. Either way, it's been very frustrating for my royal grumpiness. I was going to write a blog about my Oklahoma trip, but I couldn't get it to work, and now it's been 84 years, so who wants to mess with all of that? So ... how are you? You look good for being 84 years older. I've had a lot of work done. But not really. I wish. I wonder what Botox is like. But like how I wonder what it's like to never smile, and actually enjoy steamed vegetables, and to say, "I don't HAAAAAVE to drink to have fun at parties," while making a superior glance at someone's direction who enjoys alcohol a lot and isn't afraid to admit it. I had a really bad day at work today. I haven't been so mad at people I'm supposed to work nicely with in a VERY long time. I was close to crying, screaming, throwing a f...