Hello, Children Freaklets. My name is SisterMerryHellish.
The boring truth is I’m single, pushing 40 and have way more junk in my trunk (and everywhere else) than there should be. Nothing terribly shocking.
The slightly less boring truth and what you truly need to know is:
- By day I’m a mild-mannered *choke* administrative assistant to ridiculously spoiled rich people who both: a) don’t know they’re ridiculously spoiled and b) are all too aware of how ridiculously rich they are. The place as a whole is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I like to call it “Where Common Sense Goes to Die.”
- By night I’m secretly an eager massage therapy student who can’t wait to quit the oppressive day job, dye a bright blue streak in my hair and start making people feel better. Myself included.
- People tell me things. Weird things. Look up ‘Freak Magnet’ in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of me, trying unsuccessfully to hold the door of a closet full of other people’s skeletons closed.
Afflictions include:
- Freak Magnet-ism (see above)
- Attention Deficit Dys… Ooo! Shiny!
- Poker Face Deficiency
- Severe “Where Common Sense Goes to Die” Allergy. There’s an epi-pen full of tequila in my purse. You know, for the days when going on an imaginary stabbing spree in my head just won’t cut it.
- Oldest Child, or “I’m Not Bossy, I Just Know What You Should Be Doing” Syndrome
- Chuy’s Creamy Jalapeno Addiction
- Unbridled Bloggess Crush (I know, who doesn’t?)
- Double Letter Challenged – Occasionally my brain likes to double the wrong letter when I type. For example, I just had to retype so this didn’t read “Double Leteer Chaleenged.” Don’t even ask how long it took to fix “Occasionally” and “Bloggess.” God blees Speel Check!
- Quotaton Mark Fetish
