Sabotaging the LIEf.

I may need to first understand why chicken noodle soup, footie pajamas and Kill Bill inspire me to blog... about my ridiculous tendency to self-sabotage. Sure, sure... we all have our fair share of issues from childhood. Parents are divorced, daddy issues.. blah blah. Familiar story so many have told. Mine is no different. However, I have chosen to broadcast my somewhat unfortunate upbringing via blogspot. Now since living in LA, I have yet to deem it necessary to settle down. I suppose the fact that I don't let people get too close to me, thanks to my past relationships with men, hasn't helped the cause. I have been on a path of destruction and for whomever has been in that wake, I am sorry. Yes, this is me, publicly apologizing to you for my asinine, irrational, possibly drunk behavior. So as I sit here, and try to wiggle my limbs out of entropy... I get it. I understand I have been wrong and maybe a bit selfish. I suppose you have to take chances in order to move forward in life, in all aspects.

I am certain that outside of my "daddy-issues," Stan is to blame. The sickening, pathetic, mistake began soon after the initial introduction. I was a young intern at Fox Sports Northwest working as the producer’s assistant along with holding the glorious title of “rally fry girl” for the Seattle Mariners… That’s right, I handed out a big basket of French fries to the fan with the most obnoxious sign. You better believe that accomplishment is headlining my resume. Along with that greasy assignment, I was also fortunate enough to parade around at the Seattle Seahawks’ training camp. Being the only girl on the field with nearly 100 testosterone-driven men was a fun confidence-booster, similar to entering a bar in "Hicksville" wearing high heels and a mid-drift shirt… Instant gratification. Well Stan quickly made an impression on me and I began to chase him around like a little flea-bitten lap-dog. I was unaware that a "man" could make me so dependent and insecure.  This boy could have murdered me and brought me back to life and I still would have thought he was God’s gift. Stan would call me at all hours of the night, and because I was twitter pated with this boy, I would drive 40 minutes to his house to watch a movie.  Stan was now fully aware that if he said “jump” I would simply ask “how high?”… anvil #2.

xxYour LIEfer