Foot in My Mouth...............Again

Wow, can I really ruin an evening? Well the first part of one actually. Crummy moods really bite, especially have to deal with people you really don't want to deal with (a very small minority of the group) and then you just seem to bring everyone else down. Most people can get away with it, but not me. When I'm quiet, regardless of whats going on, (hadn't eaten all day, headache killing me, regardless...) I'm seen as having a problem. Dealing with issues, or just being a pissy pants. Why can't I allowed to be quiet and reserved? Is it not a right to be allowed that moment of silence, and not looked down upon when I take those few moments. I'd rather take time, be quiet, think of what could (or not) be said, instead of just shooting off the cuff. Then again, thats life. Deal with the ups and downs. That and I could never make it as a famous person, I'd kill the members of the paparazzi. Camera flashes make me uneasy, plus I'm not a photogenic person. Lessons I must learn to become a better person. I hope that I didn't ruin the night for Miss Alfeo, or her birthday. Hopefully the movie more than made up for it, and if not, I will finally get a gramatical correction from a previous blog...{stold=stolen}...no more hillbillyisms that are intentional.

Chicken Little = funny movie. Any Disney flick that has Patrick Warburton doing a voice (i.e. 'Emperors New Groove'), even a small one, is bound to be a funny funny movie. We laughed, cried, and laughed some more with happy crying at the same time. Upon leaving the theater though, I was thrown quite violently into the wall by a very strong young lady, who if I may say so, looked very lovely on her 22nd birthday, and bounced off that wall like a rubber ball. Guess it helps that I'm round and rubbery like said ball. (fat boy comment) The dinner last night was fun, I didn't die. I was Kendall Clark, famous radio soap star who was reportedly just removed from a mental assylum, reported by those damned paparazzis, looking to make a rebound in his career, and hosting a dance competition that turns into a blood bath. Sounds kind of like a crazy Stephen King novel. "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" Thats scary.

So I finally come to a point where I am close to going and tucking myself into bed, pulling the covers over my head, and repeating, "I don't smell sulpher, and that dark figure in the corner is just Manny the Manaquine....Wait, Manny's in the living room.....Why me?!