That’s Just How I Roll

To say that I’m a bit of an exaggerator would be the understatement of the century.

It’s no shock that I have a tendency to sensationalize situations, a penchant for fabrication, a flair for the dramatic if you will. (I’m something straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Mrs. Bennett anyone?) Never in the interest of lying, per se, but more so in the constant pursuit of a more refined satirical art. I take the extremes in every situation; I spin normal mundane monotony into Laguna Beach quality excitement.

It’s what I do.

It’s who I am and I think that’s become more than obvious to anyone who knows me or even simply reads this. I never just state the facts. That’s too boring. I exaggerate and elaborate and embellish for the good of the story and ten times out of ten it’s all done out of good, sarcastic fun.

Because I am nothing if not a sarcastic bitch.

However, as with any written form of communication, blogs can easily be misconstrued. If you can’t see my dry, sardonic face and hear the sarcasm dripping from my tongue then you might take things literally and that could be bad for everyone involved.

Bottom line: my last post was a dramatization of a normal day in my life. Just as most of the other things I write here. Yes, it’s true, everything that I write about does happen but not necessarily in the extremist way (and with as many adjectives) as I typically describe them. So with that being said, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m literally in need of being shipped to a California rehab center. I have not lost control. This is not my cry for help.

This is just me. Being hopelessly dramatic (as always) in the midst of mind-numbing monotony (all around me) and in the hopes of being somewhat entertaining (but mostly failing.)

So just to be clear if I was to post true recounts of my day to day life in all their tedious normalcy then it would go a little something like this:

Yesterday was the day that I slipped and fell at Publix. It hurt.

But you know I’m much more likely to spin it like this:

Yesterday was horrendous. I drove to the store in the blistering heat in my car whose AC has given up the ghost and has subsequently invited an excruciating tete a tete with my skin every time I slap my sweaty bare limbs against its leather seats. I search endlessly among the hordes of mongrels teaming with diseases at our local Publix and finally find my few measly purchases. Ready to hightail it out of there ASAP and not necessarily wanting to wait behind a middle aged imbred with a sack full of nickels, I promptly walked across the front of the store scanning the aisles ahead of me to obtain the fastest exit route. It was then that it happened. With my gaze upwards and my attention diverted, I swiftly felt myself losing balance in a pool of unidentifiable liquid. Horror and panic gripping my heart, it was then that I felt myself come crashing down in the very front of the store among the multitude of appalled onlookers. My left knee bent askew in an ungodly position, my right ass cheek bruised and soaking wet and my tub of low-fat moose tracks frozen yogurt flung several feet in front of me, I picked myself up off the ground. Willing myself not to cry, wondering if I’ve had a concussion and inanely repeating over and over “there should really be a sign there” to the one lonely store worker who showed any concern. I hobbled my way out of the store with my soggy smushed ice cream and my wilted self-esteem, called the Boo and promptly broke into a sob fest. In my car. In the parking lot. With my hot, sticky seats. Oh, woe is me!!

Because THAT’S how I roll.