I Can't Bullshit

My teen years were fairly uninteresting.  I had a lovely home life, an okay school life, and a part time job.  I had a boyfriend who liked to get high and chase me with chainsaws, but that was really the height of excitement for me.  I couldn't figure out why my friend (yes, that's intentionally singular) had--in 16 years--every experience one could think of and a host of kick ass stories to go along with them.  I didn't get it and to be honest, I was a little jealous.  Took me a few more years to realize she didn't already know everything, she just liked to bullshit.  A lot.

I don't know how to bullshit.  If anything, one of the best descriptive words for me is "honest".  Often preceded by the word "too".  It's like that little sensor between my brain and my mouth malfunctions and whatever I'm thinking just sort of falls out.  I think this is a good thing, but I'm fairly sure that's just me.  Oh, and my husband, but that's just 'cause he's the same way.

Since I can't bullshit, and most of my life is pretty mundane, I have to come up with ways to make dull events sound interesting and full of fun.  It helps that my life does involve some of the best dialogue I've ever heard, but it's still always in relation to pretty boring things.  I'm okay with that, though.  Somehow it always sounds better in my head.

I'm also the master of the inappropriate comment.  I know I should hold things back and I really do want to be nice and supportive, but most of the time I don't even realize I'm saying (or sometimes typing) it before it's out.  Meh, I suppose I'm good for lightening the mood. 

Besides, who needs bullshit when you process things the way I do?

Lots of love for everyone and if I'm feeling sparky, I might have a really awkward and humiliating story for you all later.