TFP Confessional

I confess to overreacting and blowing up at Cayvmann on the Warning Labels thread.

 

Maybe you should cross yourself and throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder, the go for it!

But for gods sake, stay away from ladders.

 

I drove (rode) an hour each way to go eat boudin and ribs in Texas. This is not something I would ever do on my own.
And, let me tell you... I fucking destroyed that boudin. It's not even close to being on my eating plan, but I don't care. It was amazing. And I am not, even for a second, sorry that I had Broussard's Links + Ribs for lunch. And you know what? I might even go again next weekend if hubs is able to stay.

 

I have another confession: I can tell the difference between The Cure and The Smiths, but sometimes I pretend that I can't, just because the ruckus it raises is SO worth it!

 

I punched @geneticshift in the eye today.

 

OMG! Is she alright?

 

Yes! She's just fine. The punch was an accident, and she's justifiably milking it for all it's worth... including borrowing my phone to write that post about it.

I'm not going to be living this down for a while. I'm okay with that.

 

Eek, hate it when that happens! Well, hopefully the milking won't go on forever and you will eventually live it down.

 

I had to look up who The Smiths were, but once I saw "Friday I'm in Love" listed for The Cure I knew it instantly.

 

I work with a woman who has the world's most perfect ass. Round hips, perfect plump booty.
I couldn't stop staring today as she walked down the hallway ahead of me.
Thank goodness we were the only ones in the hall.

 

Was this part of some new experimental thing you two were trying?

 

I've always had a strict policy when it comes to women who report to me. I never let myself dwell on those things. I try to keep it a taboo.

However, I must confess. There was one at a previous job who I crushed on. She was brilliant, hot as a blow torch, and had the sexiest personality.

 

Sometimes, I just want to yell, "BECAUSE I'M THE PSYCHOLOGIST, BITCH!"
And walk away.
This is very untherapeutic of me.
I confess... I don't care.

 

It helps to have a more acceptable outlet, 'cause sometimes ya gotta let it out. With all that's been going the past few years, I frequently find myself just wanting to shout "fuck!" And the top of my lungs...to no one in particular. All I need is a woolen cap and a shopping bag and I'm all set.

 

I use my psychology skillz to get it out.
I don't ever DO that, but the urge is there.
Yoga, talking with my hubs, distraction, and sometimes duking it out appropriately with the person.
But, as this is The Confessional... I'm sharing the deep, dark thoughts of a psychologist. Woo-wooo-wooo-woooo-woooooooooooo.

 

I see the olympic diver and can't help but get excited thinking about what winter olympian will grace your designs....

 

That clanging sound you hear is my jaw hitting the floor after I Googled "winter Olympics hot female athletes"

Mother of God.