I think if I start conversations with "There once was a man from Nantucket..." there will be a man one day who will respond with 4 additional lines in an AABBA rhyming pattern. He will either be my soul mate or padded cell mate.
Sometimes I talk too much. I just have alot to say and in no specific order.
I wish I was more a combination of Gloria Steinem and the hot slutty blonde on Desperate Housewives than a combination of Dr. Seuss and the guy on The Wiggles who always falls asleep.
There has only been one man who could follow my conversations. Even when I was on Starbucks. And Vodka. I miss him. People tend to cut me off when I get too wordy or A.D.D.-y. Some even tell me to "get to point." Like my ex husband. He had only a seven word limit before every thing I said sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher to him. I could up it to about eighteen words if I spoke with my top off. My teenagers have about a seven word limit too. I could up it to about eighteen words if I start my sentence with "Here's $20..." My seven year old thinks I'm interesting and hilarious. Sadly, I know it's just another awkward phase. I really can't complain. I have great friends and family. They are very patient souls who will listen to me for hours no matter what I say.
...and everyone else can just suck it.
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