After Action

As the title of my blog so aptly suggests?  I'm late.  A-gain.  Contrary to the impression that my untimely posts have given off?  In my daily activities, I’m very much obsessed with being early or at the very least, on time.  Sadly, the time thief now hates me...booooo-hoooooo!  What matter most is that I’m here, right?!?!  Reporting the news azzzzzzz and when I get....around to it....(cough).  Thank goodness this isn’t my motivation letter to E-Entertainment for that journalist position they’ve just opened up, in my imagination.

Believe it or not, I've been trying to finish this post for three or however many days now.  Back when we sat with baited breath to see what the outcome would be.  Predictable as we knew it was and would be?  We still stubbornly wasted baited breath.  Breath that woulda been well spent on something the government was planning.  Or on the budget speech later today.  But thaaaaaaat’s alright.  Not as though we won’t get another chance.

So.............?  Oscar's out on bail.  O_O!  What. A. Shocker!  Huh? 

That's all.  That's it!  Saying anything further would render me biased and as a Libra?  I've always prided myself on being fair.  

Blink.......

Foot tap.....

Inner cheek bite.....

Eyeball roam....

Nervous leg shake....Okay?  Enough!

Lies!  I hate!  Lemme quickly tell you why I'm saying that before I say nothing further on the subject.  If my boyfriend shot me?  I would scream.  Case closed.  Bang.  Bang.  Alllllllll rise!  Court is adjourned.  Parking tickets will not be validated, thank you very much.

And before I promptly change the subject?  If you require further elaboration on my earth shattering closing argument?  Here it is. 

I'd scream.  :-/    Not because I'm a woman.  Youuuuuuuuu know you'd scream like the little girl you could have been if your chromosomes were set up differently!

At least...?  After the first bullet rips through my fragile skin.  If I were a beautiful model?  My skin most definitely would be fragile.  Anything after that first bone-chilling scream?  I hate pain.  So much so that I chose to give birth without the epidural.  I took these child-bearing hips of mine seriously and weighed the pain of the needle in my back against the pain of pushing a person out my body...inaccurately!  That's one mistake I won't make again.  Twice bitten, thrice shy.

Back to hypothetically being shot by my boyfriend.....After my first scream?  I'd probably have that open mouth expression where I'm truthfully crying.  My nephew does those silent cries at times.  All you see is his mouth WIDDDDDDDDE OPEN and his face turning blue.  For me though?  Shock and more than a pinch of terror have swallowed my voice because well....?  It burns like hell's fire, or so I've heard.  Not to mention that these aren't even close to the plans we had for February, 14^th.  But most importantly because he's still shooting and I'm not ready to die....in a toilet. 

And if after my first and only frightful girly bark about, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!  That hurt, darling!!"  Followed by thoughts of how much Vitamin E oil I'd have to go through to lighten that scar?  Camera picks up every blemish.  He stillllllll thought I was a burglar?  Then that doesn't say anything remotely encouraging about our relationship up to that point!  I've suddenly realized how much time and energy I've wasted being with him that I'm like, "Just.....kill me now..."  And then realize...."Oh F&*%!"

We're all adults here, are we not?  Most of us have experienced being in sommmmmmmme type of sexual situation, right!!?  I say that with absolute confidence since I hardly believe that any one of my readers is a Catholic priest.  Now....You tell me?  Aren't painful screams on several levels akin to cries of passion?  Uhhhhhhhh-huh!  I see you shaking your head.  Okay, okay, so not everybody voices their pleasure.  But you have an idea of what I’m talking about, don’t you?  From Fatal Attraction or that Sharon Stone movie or Fifty Shades.  Or the neighbours?  Do you have dog’s?  

I-I'm sorry.  There certainly are times when silence is anything but golden.  That would be one of them...A-HEM!  

Th-Throat.

Unless the imaginary burglar, sounded like Reeva in the throes of passion?  Then I can no doubt, fully understand his confusion. Definitely disturbing.  But I’ve seen worst.  

And that my friends?  Cover the sound aspects of it.  I swore I said I wasn’t talking about this....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well....shrug....I tried.  I’m not perfect and I’m perfectly fine with that.  But it does however lead me to the very burning question of?  Who am I...........?

..................to wonder how, in the dark?  His vision was onnnnnnnly 20/20 when it came time to traipse over to the balcony?  Retrieve the fan.  Reach for his gun.  Hear the burglar-like sounds.  Okay, that has nothing to do with sight.  Strike that from the record.  And later, to find a bat...but come time to see his white girlfriend?  Blind as that bat! 

Clearly, my neutral stance on this entire saga supports our policy of “guilty until proven innocent.”