Me, Myself and I

I have decided that no one really knows themselves. For example, I went to a Mardi Gras party on Saturday night. It began with me timidly sneaking into the party and nodding as if to say..."Hello, I'm J. I'm almost 40, a mom, and I attend church regularly. I'm only here because I'm friends with the host." It ended with me emptying the last drop of foam from the Yuengling keg into a crazy straw sippy cup while asking my lesbian friend how "they" have sex as I was line dancing and swinging a linen napkin around my head much like Petey Pablo. Who am I?!?

The shock factor. This is what I have decided is the culprit behind my irrational middle-aged behavior. I constantly dream of rolling up to my daughter's (private Christian) school in my black pimped out Escalade rollin' on spinner 22's, bumpin' Kayne West' "Love Lockdown" so loud that my Starbucks coffee is bouncing out of the cup with every beat. Then all the parents are looking around like "What The Hell?" as I get out in my wifebeater tank showing off my Calcutta tattoo and walk my daughter in to Spanish class. Unfortunately, I'm caught somewhere in the middle of "I would NEVER do that" and "Don't Look Ethel!!!!" if alcohol in mass quantities is involved in any way.

a

Judge not, lest ye be judged...

~j