Ever since I saw the episode of ER where Noah Wyle pulled a live roach from a patient’s ear, the fear of suffering the same fate has lived in the back of my mind. I’ve thought of wearing earplugs at night to prevent such an occurrence, but I never do. Instead, I clean my ears several times a day. Before I could adopt such a regiment though, I had to face the challenge of choosing the proper tools.
As a kid, I was taught to clean my ears with a Q-tip and a bit of alcohol (NOT the Jack Daniels kind). I would immerse one end of a q-tip in the sanitizing liquid, then stick it in my ear and swirl it around. This accomplished two things: 1) absolutely nothing; and 2) it pissed me off. Apparently this method only served to shift the wax slightly to the right instead of just removing it altogether. After a few failed attempts with this system, the time had come to move on.
More about my bad habit...
So I have big breasts. It’s not unusual for people to stare and beg to rub things on them, only to leave disappointed when I refuse. As a teen, the heat missiles strapped to my chest were good for drawing the attention of seedy men. I remember how pimps used to hit on me, ensuring I would never opt for a life on the street. Nothing made the walk home from school more uncomfortable than hearing shouts of, “Damn gurl, bring those juicy D’s over to Daddy!” This of course, was cause for offense. If I were ever going to sell myself, why have a middle man? Surely I’d be better off NOT having someone beat me and take half of my money? That’s just Bad Business 101. No way those fools were gonna play me.
More about 'big ole titties'...
I was tagged by castocreations to complete this particular meme. I’m sure since I waited so long to do it, she probably thinks I was never going to, but AH HA! I AM going to do it. I didn’t stalk her back to her blog and promise to complete it only to break my word. Now don’t get me wrong, I break my word quite often, but only when I’ve made promises to cook or clean or give blowjobs.
Now then.
One of the rules is to: Write about an incident in your life you first thought was really bad, but ended up being a blessing.
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The thing is, I’ve had this problem since I was a kid. I don’t know how it happened and I thought I had outgrown it, but in recent years it appears this affliction has not left me after all. It’s sad, because no one really understands it and when I tell people about it they think I’m a little weird. I’m actually not weird, by the way. It’s important you understand that before continuing. You must also understand that what I am about to reveal is not untrue.
Now…
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