take a hike.

i am wasting time, waiting for my life to start.

if you don't know me, or don't know me very well, allow me to introduce my crazy ass. better yet, take a peek at the "about me" column, which i find to be not only precise but painfully accurate. now, back to me, waiting, life not starting. i'll be honest with you, i am well aware that, that first sentence is a bit (grossly) exaggerative. of course i am well aware that my life is in full swing. i only use that phrase because i am also extremely aware of the fact that my life in no way resembles the life of a "real" person. nothing that happens to me on a daily basis is anything that could or should be deemed normal and therefore i exist in a state of limbo, purgatory for all you catholics (daisha), balancing between actual reality and the area of that reality in which i choose to live. let me clarify. i am too sane for the crazies and too crazy for the normals. with that being said, i have a prime example of the chaos in which i live, an anecdote of sorts, written for your entertainment and shared for recognition of apparent absurdity.

as you may, or may not already know my father and coordinated/modelesque younger sister are hiking/nature/bugs/sweat/outdoor/stinky enthusiasts. ok, these people are crazy, like oregon trail, before the invention of toilets, crazy. they carry things on their backs, sleep outside, pee on leaves, and get this, drive places so they can walk to other places. insane, i know. panda (mother) and i have never been invited on such excursions and much prefer indulging in shopping trips and white wine while the men are off playing lewis and clark, exploring the new world. well, little sister has spread her statuesque wings and flown to the far away (162 miles) city of augusta, leaving poor papa bear short a hiking partner (son). i don't think i have to tell you where this is going. my dad has somehow (bribery/trickery) convinced me to join him on one such adventure, taking place this very weekend. although the prospect of a short, little, 3 mile, uphill, jaunt is somewhat intimidating for my non-existant cardiovascular health and wobbly right knee and nature does not exactly supply the most pleasing accommodations (tent), it is not the nature thing that has me spooked, but rather a force which is far more sinister. i'm not talking about ghost, or mountain lions, or wayward hobos here. i'm talking about heinous hiking clothes/shoes. i was perfectly content with wearing running shorts and a t-shirt and trudging my not so happy ass up the side of a cliff, but i am not amused by the items papa bear is so lovingly forcing me to wear. imagine, if you will, a pair of nerdy zip-off convertible dweeb pants in a swamp ass inducing shade of charcoal/artificially faded navy, an oversized burnt orange meshy athletic shirt thing, complete with "short" sleeves which reach far past the elbow and an overall shape comparable to a circus tent, wooly ankle socks which protrude far past the acceptable distance from top of sock to top of shoe and the piece de resistance, a uni-boob inducing pack-o-shit (backpack) complete with inexplicable strap across breasts. i look like a lesbian's girlfriend/granola/softball coach in this shit. after dinner, panda wanted to see the ensemble. i walked into the living room and the aforementioned white wine was spewed across the room. needless to say, i look fabulous. please keep an eye out for headlines pertaining to chubby little boys being eaten by bears in the woods this weekend.

see, i told you i wasn't a real person.