Fear, Cheese and the Single Woman

Just like any other Friday night, I got home from work and picked goat cheese and toothpaste out of the ends of my hair.  No, I do not work on a farm or in a deli, I actually sit at a desk all day. (Well technically not all day, at least once a day you can find me in the women's washroom at work talking about the weather and avoiding eye contact with a colleague who happens to be the loudest power pisser in town.)  I digress...So as I was picking/eating the goat cheese from my hair, I got to thinking dang this is good cheese I really need to pull it together.

**Finding goat cheese in my hair is totally real, as for the toothpaste, I picked that out of my hair on the bus ride to work. The only reason why I discovered I had cheese in my hair was because as I was walking/limping out of my office, I saw the most beautiful man on earth coming towards me whom I had never seen before. Jesus sent him. Obvs. *Cue Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye) So in true slut fashion, I did the ever-so casual hair flip and goat cheese fell out. He looked at me, flashed a smile and said "Hi there." At that moment angels sang and I felt an immediate heartbeat in my vagina...not to mention the instant beads of sweat forming on my moustache upper lip. I desperately tried to respond but nothing came out and I miraculously escaped a cardiac arrest. So... I did the next logical thing which was hiding in the women's washroom. They really need to put a couch in there for moments like this.

Whoa, I'm way off topic. 

For any of you that live alone, you can't tell me you haven't whipped the shower curtain open at least once fearing there may be a killer in there or maybe even a dead body. Personally, I pee with a knife. And frankly, if chainsaws were cheaper, I'd pee with one too. Looking back, convincing my parents to let me rent Scarface at 11 years old by telling them it was about a man with really bad cystic acne scars on his face, is probably what screwed me.

Anyway, as I'm getting older and single-er (not a word, but now it is) I have started to develop many fears/anxieties, so I thought I would share some with you here in an attempt to connect with another nutty spinster (and because I evidently have no shame.) If you follow my blog, I bet you were just shocked to find out I have anxiety.

Shall we.....

I'm convinced I have the Avian Bird Flu and Malaria at least 3 out of 7 days a week. As far as I'm concerned, Web MD can go fuck itself. I'm also convinced the writers who contribute to that site are not medical professionals, just some stoned college kids in their dorm room, sitting back and laughing,

"Dude, that'd be soooo funny if we wrote that sneezing was a sign of AIDS"

"Totally man." 

"Write that shit down."

I worry that the door to my apartment will spontaneously fling open and my neighbour will see me making out with my pillow while listening to Whitney Houston's greatest hits. I've secretly had a harder time dealing with Whitney Houston's death than I did my own Grandfather's. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I wasn't sad that he passed away, he just wasn't a black soul singer. Jesus is her bodyguard now.

I panic and get a liitle weepy when I think I may never meet the creator of Nutella to make sweet sweet love to him. Even if it's a woman, that crafty little bitch made it socially acceptable to put chocolate on bread. I'd do her. I bet she was on her period or in a fit of rage when she melted her chocolate bar on her toast. Jackpot.

I fear that one day my vagina will spontaneously ignite into flames from the amount of inner thigh chaffing I'm experiencing. I heard that napping and drinking magnums of blush wine while you're alone cures this...Um so...I should be cured by now. Someone should probably throw me a telethon, the kids in Africa will be just fine. Or maybe I should work out? Nahhhh.....

I'm terribly afraid that my phone will accidentally dial my parent's house while I'm watching 

'Gangbus 5: The MILF Addition.' I would rather lick a subway pole than to have that happen.

It keeps me awake at night to think that the smiley face emoticon will one day disappear from all phones and no one will know that I'm joking when I text them "Your mom's a whore:)"

I also lay awake at night fearing that I will one day be cast as Honey Boo Boo's mother in her Lifetime made for t.v movie because we just look so shockingly alike. (I actually feel guilty for writing that. I think that family really loves each other in between the belching, eating "sketti" and beauty pageants) 

I get nervous that one day Donnie Wahlberg from New Kids on the Block, will get a hold of the love letters I wrote him as a child. They went something like this....

'Dear Donnie, I licked your poster last night before I fell asleep..I swear I felt our tongues touch. Do you like unicorns? I feel warm.'

Its bad enough I'm chubby, don't put me in the slammer...I'd be shanked in my cell within the first 5 minutes. But I'm positive they would love the makeovers I'd give them if they'd just give me a chance. 

I realize it sounds like I'm just an intervention away from wrapping the contents of my apartment in tinfoil and trying to communicate with extra terrestrials, but I can't help it...these fears are legit right? 

Well, I'm off to price chainsaws at home depot. 

It's been real, 

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