Because Normal Is For Boring People

So, yall want to hear about my weird week? Sure ya do, I know half of you tune in daily to watch the train wreck that is the life of one Miss Eden Strong.

I’m ok with that.

Monday: I dropped the kids off at daycare early so that I could run to the grocery store before work. Apparently 7am on a Monday morning is not prime shopping time. I feel fairly confident in making that statement seeing as how I was literally the only person in the store. Since no one else was there, I also felt fairly confident that I could ride my shopping cart as if it were a children’s scooter even faster than I normally do. As I stood at the beginning of a very long aisle, a little voice in my head said “Girl, I bet you could make it to the other end of the aisle with only three start off pushes. “

Yes Eden, challenge accepted.

After three start off pushes I was surprised at how fast I was actually going, a little bit proud even. I was also surprised that apparently at 7:10am other people enter the store. I almost took out an old lady that stepped into the aisle just as I was crossing the finish line. I did not hit her. I did however see her giving me “you are crazy eyes,” so I decided that it would be appropriate to wave at her and announce “HAPPY MONDAY” as if I were some kind of deranged Santa Claus.

Tuesday:  I’m one of those new age hippies that believes in natural healing and homeopathic treatments, so in a work services trade I clean a chiropractic office for a couple hours a week and in return they treat me and the kids for free. Everyone loves to keep the highway of your body healthy, am I right? Crazy? Eh, it’s all the same these days anyway.

Speaking of anyway, one of the chiropractors there is a guy that I went to high school with. He was a grade level higher than me and I’m fairly confident that we didn’t know each other. I am fairly confident of this because I don’t remember him and he must not remember me because he asked me for maiden name one day. “Oh and why is it that you would want that? Could you possibly be looking me up in your yearbook?” I asked him.

He looked a little bit unsettled as he said “Uh…no. I mean, I just happened to find it yesterday, so I wanted to see if I remembered you.”

“Oh, you just happened to find it yesterday right after we found out we went to the same school? What a suprisingly unbelievable coincidence!”

“No Eden, I just, well... it doesn’t matter. I asked all of my friends and none of them remember you either.”

“Oh, you told all of your friends about me too? Since yesterday?”

His face turned bright red and he left for lunch.

Game on.

Please see also: I am a horrible, horrible person.

So Dr. and I have a strange sort of pseudo professional relationship where we just make fun of each other. In fact I was talking to the secretary while I was there the other day, who just happens to also be my friend, and I was telling her about how I have to go to this large lunch conference and “can you imagine me at this thing? I am not cultured enough for this,” to which my friend replies “fake it till you make it,” and Dr. pipes up from the background with “or in Eden’s case fake it until you’re found out.”

So anyway, like I said, game on. So this particular Tuesday I am waiting for my appointment and Secretary and I are chatting it up. She is also a personal trainer and we are discussing referring each other clients for personal training and strip. As I am in the middle of telling her “you get them in shape and then I will show them what to do with that shape,” Dr. walks in. He looks a little confused so Secretary clears it up with “Oh, Eden’s a stripper.” Dr. look’s like someone hit him in the face with a frying pan.

I say nothing.

We go back to the treatment room and I said to him “you know she isn’t serious right?” He looked relieved and replied “Oh, oh, yea…of course not. I knew that. Of course I did.” To which I replied “I don’t take my clothes off for men, (pause) I take them off for women!” His face looked shocked as hell, but I said nothing and then flopped myself down onto the exam table while arranging my jacket over my ass because I was wearing a rather short skirt. He professionally tried to help me cover said ass while saying “here, let me help you, I don’t want you to feel exposed,” but because I was still the same horrible person, I shot back “thanks, I take my clothes off for money. No free samples.”

I thought about clarifying the situation with him, but honestly, it’s kind of funnier to just leave it as is. He has always looked at me like I was crazy anyways, so I might as well just prove him right.

The secretary and I chatting

Wednesday: My friend and I grab ice cream and because I am poor I just ask for a glass of water. The cashier looks absolutely horrified as she manages to gasp out “you know that it is tap water, right?” I’m like “well I don’t usually like to assume things, but yes, I was fairly certain that it would come from the tap.” Now she looks downright disgusted as she curtly replies “I won’t drink anything that isn’t run through reverse osmosis. I grew up on Evian.” Hum, well I didn’t, so I’m fine with the tap water.

You would have thought I had asked the girl if I could lick the floors clean by the look on her face as she sets the glass down on the counter. “Fine,” she says. “It’s your body. If you want to drink all that lead be my guest.” My girlfriend looks at her and says “you know what, I’d like some radioactive chemical filled water too.” Little Miss Attitude gets another glass and is clearly just as disgusted as the first time around as she sets the second glass down on the counter. My friend, without missing a beat, acts as if she can’t pick it up. She is struggling, using two hands, and near wincing. “Uh….what’s wrong with you” asks Little Miss Attitude. “Oh,” my friend says, “nothing. It’s just that the lead content is so high in this water that I almost can’t pick it up. Either that or the chemicals are wearing away my health.”

And this is why we are friends.

You almost can't tell under all my creativity, but I can assure you I am drinking the lead water

Thursday: I’m running on the track at the gym because it was raining outside. In an effort to avoid the locker room altogether, the only thing I brought in with me was my keys and my membership card. So I’m running and I drop the card. No biggie. Pick it up, drop it again. Ugh. Drop it a third time. Ok, what the hell? I “pull over” to the side of the track and I’m sort of looking myself up and down trying to figure out where I can stick this card. I have yoga pants and a shirt on, so I don't have pockets or anything. For a brief moment I think I’ll stick it in my underwear like on my hip or my ass cheek (is that gross? Maybe), but then I remember that I’m wearing a thong so that idea is out.

Ok, bra it is.

I know lots of girls that keep money, phones, keys, lipstick and all sorts of shit in there, but I, I am not one of them. I have tiny boobs; stick anything in there and you would easily see it through my shirt. So this sticking the card in there, this is a new scenario for me. So I’m pulled over on the side of the track and I’m pretty sure I am the only one there, so I figure that it's ok if I take a minute to figure this out.

Ok, well with tiny boobs comes a tiny bra. No need for “full coverage” here, so um….”over” is kind of out because the card would just fall out. It’s going to have to be….under.

I look around and assure myself that I am the only one there. I am and I decide that I’m gonna shove this card under my boob so that it can rest in my bra. I reach into my shirt, grab boob, and hey guess what? WRONG. 

I was not the only one there.

I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or the guy that rounded the corner just in time to see me fondling myself. Lovely. I mean nothing was showing, but still, my hand was obviously in my bra.

As far as I know, I’m not banned from the gym or anything.

Yet.

I get home from the gym and strip down to take a shower. As I am throwing my clothes into the laundry room I see a box that I’ve been avoiding putting in the attic. I look at it and because I must have ADD or something, decide that I should finally put it away. Like right now. The last time I was in the attic I actually fell out and nearly killed myself. Yes, I FELL out of my attic. So this time I decide maybe I don’t need to lug the ladder up three flights of stairs and risk breaking my neck, maybe I can just stand on my daughters desk chair, push the attic panel up, and chuck the small box up there.

I stand on the chair and that plan is a no-go because I can’t reach the ceiling. Lucky for me, I’m short so I have a step stool in the laundry room. Because I am stupid and too lazy to get the ladder, I think “Hum, I bet I could just put this step stool on top of the chair and then I could reach the ceiling.

Before I know it I am climbing on top of the step stool, on top of the chair, and it suddenly dawns on me that maybe this isn’t the greatest plan.

I could fall and break my neck.

And oh yea, I’m still naked. Not really how I want to be found when someone comes looking for me after I fail to pick my kids up from daycare; naked in a hallway under a collapsed step stool and chair.

Maybe I’m not as stupid as I thought I was.

It’s a close call.

Friday: I’m stopped at a stoplight, windows down, singing my lungs out, and I get hit in the face with a crumpled up ball of paper. I look across the passenger seat to the car in the other lane and some middle aged guy in a sports car and a fancy suit gives me a thumbs up before peeling away.

The dude hit me in the face with his phone number from his car and across my passenger seat. Still not impressed. “Yea, let me get right on that. Or I could just go camping or clip a strangers toenails or something equally as appealing.”

Saturday: I have some friends over and my friend asks if she can bring one of her other friends. Sure, why not? The more the merrier. The new friend shows up with what I can only describe as a bar in a bag.

I’m not even kidding.

Out of her bag comes ice, cherries, liquor, juice, and then she gets right to work making fancy things. I like this chick. This chick and I are gonna be good friends.

Well later in the evening after we are all pretty “relaxed,” new friend pipes up with “so last night it was like 2:30 am and I couldn’t sleep so I was flipping through the channels and I saw a porn that looked interesting so I rented it.” The entire table erupts into laughter. “Porn!? You rented porn!? You can get it free online, who rents porn these days?” my other friends cackled.

I personally have never heard of a girl renting TV porn by herself before and I have pretty much heard it all, but hey, whatever gets ya off is fine with me. So anyway, she is like “yes, it caught my eye and I wanted to see it, but I could only watch like two minutes of it before my vagina sealed itself shut. It was a black guy, and girls, they do not lie when you hear the rumors that they are some big dudes" she said.

Now we are all dead silent. We aren’t sure if we should look at her or look at the floor. But then it happens. She points directly at me and says “Eden, listen to me very carefully. Do not ever have sex with a black guy. You are too tiny for that shit. That shit will tear you up.”

I, for possibly the first time in my entire life, am left completely speechless.

Sunday: This was by far my favorite day of the week. Possibly my favorite day of the year. Today I looked out the window and what I saw, was a glorious site. I viewed, with my very own eyes, upon my very own nutcase neighbor’s front lawn, a vision that I will hold dear for the rest of my earthly existence. It is large, square, two toned, and in big letter's say's

FOR SALE.

© NotMyShameToBear 2014