That title is a tad misleading.
I got up and meandered through the notes I desire to hit on my days that are fully my own and did great…until a Large fries and Mc Chicken for dinner, possibly let in by the chem-trails in the bowl of cheese crackers I had as a snack around 5pm that I tried to health up by eating with a gala apple.
And it wasn’t my inner child. She was oblivious. Didn’t care either way. But she also would not have ordered a Mc Chicken with no sauce. so it was Me. iiiiiitttt waaasssss meeeeeeeeee!!!
I didn’t cry.
I did it consciously.
And even though I didn’t let those two things ruin the score for a great day… I did make it nix counting said great day in the “60 straight” I am doing. i was up(technically) at 425am today. A New day~ TODAY! LET US BEGIN!RIGHT?!RIGHT?!
It’s July 4th.
I’m not just eating salad on Motherfucking July fourth.
When We’re having a BBQ at the compound?
Especially when I have bomb-assed potato-salad I made myself.
Oh hellllls no!
Which is making me size up REAL in recognition of LIFE.
Now…we ALLL know I live for odd indulgences the way amphibians need the land and the rain. But I have gotten a bit hardcore hammering out this lifestyle thing. that Virgin Perfectata shit has been creeping up like a motherfuck, and frankly, its been swilling some of the fun out of this entire shin-dig, so enough!
“I DECLARE…that July 3rd and today, July 4th, are both officially IN-Bounds and COUNT TOWARDS THE 60 FACKING DAYS. play MOTHERFUCKING bALL!”
(microphone static as it is thrown down on the field and freak-flags are tossed up into the sky throughout the stadium. Demons boo at the leniency as Angels applaud Angel taking her God-given right of call.)
Now.. I’m gonna go EAT a nutritious and health-bolstering breakfast, have a satisfying lunch…and enjoy Independence day with some sort of BBQ sauce smeared across some aspect of my body as I cheer Prince on in spirit if I’m not going to essence fest.
Oh. And Happy 550th blog post to yall~!
I appreciate the insanity of you consistently tuning in to watch me pretty much play with mahself in at least a somewhat productive manner. Thanks for the odd love you bring that makes me sing out with a sometimes sailor mouth.