The thing is, I'm not a neat-neat person. And by neat I mean that definition wherein one manages to walk through her (or his) room without stumbling over because of stray stuffed toys and shoes on the floor. I am not that person, ask my mother, ask our housekeeper. They're witness to my messy, messy room. I am not fond of sweeping the floors or dusting things. Not neat, but organized. For some apparent reason, when it comes to files and folders on a computer, I go beserk when no order has been established. Today, for instance, I simply can't enjoy listening to the music that I downloaded over the weekend because they're not organized.
I know. What the hell is fucking wrong with me?
I remember Ms. Emma (of Glee), wiping each grape before she pops them in her mouth. And I shudder. Because I am kind of like that. Only not so much. I'm confusing you. What I mean was, I never clean things with toothbrushes. Oh wait, actually, I do. I clean my hair combs with used toothbrushes, but that's part of a healthy hygiene, right? Come to think of it, what exactly is a "healthy hygiene"? We know the basics -- bathe everyday, brush your teeth every after meal, floss if you must, wash your peewees and patooties, deodorize. But when and how do you say that you've gone too far on being hygienic?
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The question might just hover around forever.
Anyway, back to where we were: I am kind of like Ms. Emma but not quite, not that intense. I cringe whenever I'd realize that money just might be the dirtiest thing in the whole wide world yet we work for it and hold it like it's sanitized gold. Men's butts scare the shit out of me, I do not know why. And although I get off balance when riding an escalator, I try to not hold on to the rubber banister because other people have touched it, and God knows where those hands have been -- strange men's penises for example.
Strange men's penises.
Now I can't get my mind of it. Must purge the graphic images.
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