Singing- while- Driving

I talk to myself while driving sometimes. occasionally  often. Today I had full- out conversations with myself. Enjoy.

“To-the-bank, to-the-bank, to-the-bank. Toooo the BAAAAAAAAANK!”

*after a police car passes by, strikes up imaginary conversation* “What? Of course I wasn’t talking to myself officer. Haha…. I was, uh…. bluetooth! Yeah people still have bluetooth, right?”

“To the bank? To the bank! To-the-bank, to-the-bank, to-the-baaaaaank!”

*neh, neh, neh, Well you can suck my dick! Ugh, I hate when people get all senstive about that like, ‘Oh, I didn’t know you had a-‘ IT’S METAPHORICAL BITCH!”

*lady drops her cigarette in the middle of the street^ “Oh nice lady, real nice. Couldn’t go the extra 10 feet to the trash can- ash tray …thingy… they still have those right?”


I Would en-tittle this “Arguing with Myself” but Jeff Dunham has that Copyrighted

The other day I was lying on my bed and mussing out loud that I didn’t know what to blog about when a small voice in the back of my head started arguing with me. The conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Ugh,I can’t think of anything to blog about

Voice: You could blog about any of the strange things about yourself.

Me: I don’t have any strange things…

Voice:  You collect spoons.

Me: That’s not that weird, people collect spoons…

Voice: Your Pandora goes from Breaking Benjamin to Legally Blonde the Musical.

Me: I’m a woman of many tastes…

Voice You’re talking to yourself.

Me: ….Touche.

In my own defense, my blog’s slogan is: “My Therapist Says I’m Quirky”, so I feel like I’m entitled to writer’s block once in a while.