well. I sort of promise.

I love people. I don’t understand most of the world, but I enjoy it like going to the zoo. Watching behavior from behind safety glass and bars of steel is a great way to spend the afternoon. It can get nauseating when entering into the smelly monkey house and the hippos are generally fat assed mean bastards, but the diversity of the rest of the animals is quite amazing. Elitists, idiots, children, adults who act like children, professionals, separatists, creative types, extremists, peacocks, just plain cocks, dreamers, scammers, cookie-cutter sheep, snakes, pimps and hoes, and wanderers.

If everyone was separated by bars, it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t get along. They could growl, curse, throw shit and be foul all they wanted.

Bars and cages are needed. Tigers naturally hate on bunnies.

Friends have told me I come off as a dick. Cold. Mean. Heartless. Jerky. Bitch-esque. My husband frequently stares open mouthed and repeats, 'you know I want to stab/choke you right now', uh, a lot.

Honestly, this is always total news to me. I imagine in my head, I am like a tiny little bunny hopping around and wiggling my bunny nose looking for carrots. Maybe it is the cursing. I cuss, my god I fucking cuss. Maybe it is all the threats. Or the ninja chops to the neck when no one is paying attention. It's a game, people, you have to play back. Not my problem if you didn't get the rules ahead of time, shit.

People mislabel me and really, it's just that I am really shy and antisocial. Also, my face naturally grimaces in it's relaxed state. I generally look like someone just pissed in my corn flakes and I am about to take that person down with a machete. Maybe a blow torch.

I don’t want to seem like a jerk.

I want to be a fluffy cloud of happiness and love. I want to whistle while you work (Let’s not get carried away, I have no desire to work. Ever.), sprinkle fairy dust, emit light, carry you into fucking wet dream-land and urge you into orgasm. I hope I do that in some sort of twisted, head rolling, gutting you with semi-sharp knives sort of way. Raised by wolves, my husband tells me. The Universe didn't provide me with gumdrops. I have fangs, you know. Big pointy fangs.

I am trying. Really.

Don't stare, but please feed me.

I promise not to spit.

In your face.