Juicy Caramel Apples

I'm not big on Halloween, hence I am in bed writing a blog, in no condition to drive. My plans for tonight got a bad cold and I am so tired after this last week I happily climbed into my bed. I am 100% certain that when Dr. Sylvia gets home from the movies, she is going to ask me to hand out the candy. Thank God it's raining so there might not be as many kids, because I have no intention of putting my pants back on. Although, if I do pass out candy it would allow me to have the bowl next to me, and Dr. Sylvia bought some good shit this year. So that's my Friday night. It's nothing exciting, but I am enjoying just laying in bed typing my thoughts, warm under the covers.

I saw this seven year old girl at Trader Joe's yesterday as I bought my enchiladas. She had the word "Juicy" written on the butt of her sweat pants. Now, I get the whole Juicy Couture thing, it's not my thing, I retired my track suits a while ago (although I stuck to Addidas tracksuits, but I'm Hip Hop like that. I will admit that they have some nice handbags, but I would never go as far as to recommend one to a friend, let alone buy one for myself. But how fucking inappropriate is it to put the word "Juicy" on a seven year old's butt? I mean really? REALLY? The mother of the girl was exactly what you would expect, thirty-eight, blond, and trying too hard (Hello, Atherton!). Just by her Escalade alone I could tell that this woman's judgement was faulty. "Juicy," it's just so wrong.

I as making Halloween cookies at work the other day, when a male customer started to talk about how he wanted a caramel apple, but just not one with nuts, which was what we had displayed. He kept going on and on about how much he disliked the chocolate and nuts, going as far as to say to his friend, "If I buy a BMW, I don't want the world." I then proceeded to actually tell the customer that I had indeed just dipped some plain caramel apples that morning, to which he got all huffy and said, "I don't even want one," in a very pissy tone. He actually reminded me of a candy apple himself, with that stick up his ass. "If I buy a BMW, I don't want the world?" Again, really? Who says that? I mean what a telling statement of the man's character.

It all makes me want to grab a sheet pan and smack these people in the face. Wake Up! Look at the reality of who you are and ask yourself if you are happy. If I asked for a cookie, and you gave me a bakery, I would love you. If I ever find myself with a seven year old girl of my own, she wouldn't even be wearing sweat pants in public. She'd have on some jeans and a t-shirt, little Chucks and some kick ass accessory, not some velour billboard advertisement for pedophiles.

I have so much going on in my heart at the moment. So much trepidation and anxiety and straight up fear. I'm in some sort of controlled freak-out, and just trying to breath. I worked so hard to close off wanting any of those good feelings and snuggles that come along with meeting someone new and actually hitting it off. I find myself having flashes of "Oh shit"- fear, analyzing and thinking to the point that I have myself wrapped in negativity as opposed to the beauty of affection. I feel like I am running while dragging my feet. Wanting it, but being so terrified about what could happen. A little too much honesty? I'm too thick in The Haze to care. Fuck proof-reading.