Making Fun of the Cat Lady

I don't mind if you laugh at me, make fun of me, think I'm silly.  In fact, I hope you do!  It's the best compliment that I can have.  After a lifetime of being so serious, I get seriously jacked up when someone tells me I have wit and am humorous.

More often than not (read:  always), I use humor against me.  But it's okay - if I can't laugh at me, how could anyone else?  Right?

So tonight  I had a few plans change around and while knowing that I would end up in front of my computer playing Words with Friends (and frantically trying to squash my ex-hub), I decided to be brave and hold the inevitable off a bit.

So I did this:

Don't worry, it's not permanent (as if you were dry heaving)

It looks a little better here:

But not much!

Spending my teens in the Cleveland public eye taught me a lot about humility and rolling with the punches.  I think this was one of the worst pictures published of me:

Double breasted shirts??!!  Even at 16 I didn't need the extra help.

There was this one too:

I was typecast as a cat lady before I'd even had sex.  Oh wait.  Let me rethink those dates again.

Moral of the story, folks.  I'm going to go out on a limb (verbally, in written form) time and time again. Join me, it's fun.  But don't hold your breath if you want to see me make an ass of myself (on purpose) in public.  That's reserved for those that actually know me! :)

Karaoke anyone?  Only if there is moonshine involved! (Unless it's Fried Ham, Fried Ham - I'm GREAT at the donkey voice!)