Anal Sex and Apple Martinis
I talked to my mother on the phone yesterday. She's been known to read my blog in fits and starts. Since couple of years ago she asked me to "help [her] find the internet on [my] Daddy's computer", I was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to figure out how to get here. Not that it matters, because I write pretty much everything under the assumption that my parents might read it. I grew up with the kind of mom and dad who inevitably found out about EVERYTHING.
According to the woman who birthed me, I'm far too open with myself on That Blog. I'm both flattered and amused.
I'm flattered because it says that I'm achieving one of my goals for my blog. It's supposed to be the place where I'm totally honest in my writing. After years of crafting Marketing Copy for a living and writing fiction for a hobby, I wanted one place where I could have a disciplined short-form writing exercise and be completely honest at the same time. I can't count the number of times I've banged out an exaggeration on the QWERTY, only to go back and delete it. I've got a personal rule, and I intend to stick to it. The fact that people who know me best think I'm over the top has to be a good thing.
I'm amused because I write, at most, 5 posts a day. Usually only one or two--but business has been slow. There is NO WAY on earth that I only exist within the parameters of what is written in a blogpost. Each post is totally truthful, but none of this is the totality of the truth of me. But I like to be honest. I like to think that by telling the truth about the way I see things I can find common ground with other people. Not because they see things the same way as I, but because they see my honest humanity. *cue background music.
So yes, I'm honest here. But rest assured that you don't know everything.
As for anal sex and apple martinis, I've never tried either and I have no plans to do so in the future. They're both fine for other people but I find even the idea of them vaguely repulsive.