adventures in awkward

There’s nothing worse than having your in-law’s dog throw up on you while you’re enjoying some syrup-covered bacon. Until he proceeds to eat the dog-food-puke chunks off of you and all you can get yourself to do in that moment is scream in abject terror. Of course, if I didn’t take the time to look at Alex with a bitchy stare and say ‘this is why I don’t want a dog!’ he wouldn’t have had time to eat it again. So, touchè, universe. Touchè. Happy Sunday!

An hour or so later the dog threw up again (not on me this time, thankfully) and the cycle started to repeat itself. Pretty sure this is a metaphor for my life. Even when I know something will have a bad outcome, at times I lack some necessary self control to stay away from it. Like when I eat bacon while I’m trying to work on my health or pick my nose even though I almost always feel crushing embarrassment when I’m caught red green-handed. Will I ever learn or will I be stuck in a puke-eating cycle for the rest of my life like poor Fido? guiltydog

So, we’re finally on my self-hosted site. I hope everything is in order and shows up correctly. Let me know if there’s any sort of difference you notice and I’ll try to get it fixed. I’m not sure if people are getting alerts to when I like/reply back to a comment or not, but everything else seems to be in good order. Thanks for hanging with me.

If we’ve previously talked through email, I don’t have that address anymore. The new one is : blair@theshamefulsheep.com

There will be more changes to the site as time goes on, this is just the beginning 🙂 I have some plans in mind!

adventures in awkward

Saturday morning my niece thought it would be hilarious to pants me at our family brunch in the middle of talking to my father-in-law. Yep, there I was… standing, minding my own business and talking about how easy it was to make sloppy joes… and down came the pants. I wasn’t sure if I should be more embarrassed by the fact I hadn’t shaved above the knee in a few days, or that my underwear had cat whiskers on it. Either way – mortifying. You’re welcome for the show, Dad. Me-ow.

For some reason my nieces and nephews don’t look at me like I’m a 30-year-old adult, but rather a very large child. Which means any time they are around I’m usually limping around the house pretending to be a purple giraffe that got it’s leg run over by a rogue safari Jeep or something along those lines. It’s better than wine and cheese, really. It’s fun. It’s crazy. It’s a goddamn blessing. It saves me from a lot of awkwardly boring small talk. (Social anxiety’s mortal enemy.) Who the hell wants to spend family time talking about politics and car issues anyway? I’m good on that, thanks.

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Pro-tip to my fellow adult-sized children: wear a belt. Nobody want’s to see your kitty’s whiskers.

Hope y’all have a good weekend and are successful in keeping your pants on. Unless, well, you know

(PS- Sorry if you got the ‘new post’email twice. I posted it on accident yesterday when I wanted to post it today. Forgive me! I hate when people repost their same blogs over and over just to get more views, so I feel ya. It won’t happen again, folks)