Cheating

I realize this is basically cheating, but I have a lot on my plate right now, and technically I *DID* write this today, so I am sharing a survey I took on Facebook. Listen, I partake in those cheesy, silly surveys on FB because my friends seem to like them, it makes them laugh and it gives me a chance to write crazy things, that I sometimes hope leads to actual things I can write about. Spurs a memory or gives me an idea for a piece of flash fiction. So let’s look at this as a moment of learning. Take the survey yourself. It’s dumb and cheesy, but it’s all I got. I had therapy today and it zaps me, for sure. Enjoy the silliness.

M.

You guys! It’s been awhile since a survey crossed my newsfeed, and you know I take one every time I see one (well when I allow myself more FB time). This one popped up today (actually Jerimiah tagged me in it, so it’s like he wanted me to partake). So you know what that means, it’s SURVEY SAYS* time! And don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything about how we should be doing silly surveys to avoid political or Covid stuff. Matter fact, let’s just take a moment to remember a few things: 1. Trump is an asshat and must be voted out. 2. Covid is real, y’all need to be wearing your masks, social distancing, and listening to the CDC. 3. Black Lives Matter, anything else you say about it is racist and for the love of all that is holy can we please ARREST THE MEN WHO KILLED BREONNA TAYLOR! #ShameOnYouKentucky


*Remember you can play along in my comments if you really want to, but you don’t want to seem silly to your other, very real, very serious Facebook friends. This is a no judgement zone. All I ask is for 100% honesty and $1 every time you use the letter “e’.


Survey Says…


Age backwards: 12


Favorite pie: That one in the freezer section that is supposed to be some form of Key Lime, but I have had real Key Lime and it is nothing like real Key Lime, but also did you know that Key Limes are a real thing? They are just like tiny, little tiny limes, and they are actually pretty good in a margarita, and also there is such a thing as a margarita pie. It’s that thing where you pour yourself your 8th margarita and cut yourself a piece of Key Lime Pie and accidentally cut your hand on account of it being your 8th margarita and you stand very still at your kitchen counter, unsure about whether to scream, or to call 911, until you remember that appendages just bleed way more than they should and you are fine and had you actually routinely taken better care of your kitchen knives (and not had 8 margaritas alone on a Sunday) you probably would not be in this situation in the first place.


Italian or Chinese: Carbs


Pepsi or Coke: Here’s the thing, I live in Atlanta so I feel compelled to say Coke, because this is the home of Coke. For real, there is a secret Coke formula in a vault somewhere, probably buried underground at the World of Coke, which is coincidently right next to the aquarium, which now makes me wonder if the sharks are actually tasked with protecting the secret formula? Most likely. I like Diet Coke.


Chocolate or vanilla: “You can have any flavor you want.”

“I like Chocolate.”

“Racism is dead, Stanley.”


How many tattoos: Two, but I have been floating this idea of a third one. Hear me out! I shave my head. I start on the forehead and I do a dragon breathing flames. The flames go down my cheek onto my throat. On the top of my head is the dragon body, and the tail travels all the way down my spine. I call it, “Dragon on My Mind.”


Ever hit a deer: Not personally, I don’t condone human on deer violence, but one time I was very upset with a deer. He was eating my cantaloupe, and y’all know I had tried all the things the internet told me to try to keep the deer away. Then one morning, just as the dew was blanketing the fruit, the cool, crisp, summer morn rising above me, I walked into my garden and I saw that asshole deer. He froze. I froze. We stared at each other for what I thought was a moment of mutual understanding. I slowly said, “Mr. Deer, please stay away from my cantaloupe. I implore you. I need it to nourish my own family.” He gave me a sly smile, as deers often do, and said, “Bitch, this my cantaloupe now.” And I’ll be honest, it was the one and only time I wanted to hit a deer. Just slap him hard, one time, across the face. But I didn’t. I went back inside and shook my husband awake so violently that it helped soothe the rage I felt inside the depths of my soul.


Netflix or Hulu: Both and also HBO Max and Amazon Prime and Apple TV and occasionally a rented movie from Redbox, yeah, now you know how the 1% live


Favorite season: I want to say fall because I do love me all the fall stuff like sweaters (that Jerimiah calls my “Old lady sweaters”) and Pumpkin Spice anything especially candles (I’m a BB), but truth be told, honestly, for actual real, I like summer. I love being free with my kid to go and do whatever we want without the administration breathing down my neck all, “He’s already missed 11 days, and no Disney World is not an ‘educational trip’ even if you did make him read a collection of MAD magazine on the plane…” Bitches.
Last text from: “The Squad” Not T. Swift’s Squad, not “The Squad” from Congress (Y’all need to leave AOC and her girls ALONE!), but my “squad” which is actually way cooler than anyone in any of the aforementioned squads: Rachel, Jerimiah, Kasey, Melody


Broken bone: My wrist, in kindergarten. Then I cried silently in a corner for the rest of the day and my teacher repeatedly told me to buck up because there was nothing wrong with me, then when it was snack time and I refused a snack she knew something was up because ain’t no way Missy refusing a snack. So she called the nurse in and the nurse was all, “Her wrist is broken.” And I can only imagine my teacher felt like real, actual shit, and she had to call my mom and tell her that I had broken my wrist when I fell off the playground equipment three hours earlier and deal with the wrath of that moment. I had a cast on for eight weeks.


Surgeries: Hysterectomy a couple years back. Literally the best thing I ever did for myself and I highly recommend it to any and all women when the time is right. Ask me. I’ll tell you all you need to know, and then I will come check on you and bring you wine when it’s over.


Favorite color: Black like my husband’s supposed soul, I’m also fond of pink.


Favorite scent: See favorite season


Sunrise or Sunset: I feel like this is a trick question because the reality is we get to see both everyday of our lives if we are committed to it, and maybe this is like one of those tests the therapist gives you to see where you are emotionally and mentally at any given moment. Like if I say sunrises because it reminds me of a dragon and dragons make me think of death and we are all going to die one day and why am I spending so much time on FB surveys, just squandering all my precious minutes of this one life, this one damn sunset and sunrise, and maybe we should all be spending our time doing more meaningful things together like who wants to work on the world’s largest puzzle with me? And then my therapist, Patsy, as you guys have come to know her, would be, “Damn it, Missy, we have talked about this. No one wants to do puzzles with you.” What was the question?


Mountains or Beach: Mountainous beaches, because I really can’t pick. It is 100% however I feel at that particular time. Also, I think it is seasonal. I do not want to be at the beach in January (and trust I have) and I do not want to be in the mountains in spring (allergies). So, I like Malibu. Mountains and beaches. I like New England, mountains and beaches. I like Tijuana, tequila and shit you can’t unsee.


Dogs or cats: I don’t even know why this is a legitimate question. That’s like asking “Apples or Oranges?” I mean which one has to be picked at the height of the season, nourishes your body, protects itself from the harsh sun, and makes juice? I mean. Wait, okay that didn’t do a lot to further my point, but I hope you get the point. Oranges. Duh.


Early morning person: Sure, as long as I went to bed at 6:00 pm the night before.


Summer or Winter: Is this a little repetitive? SUMMER. My old bones can’t take winter anymore. But if it’s Chicago or NYC in the winter, we can talk…
Favorite Holiday: It 100% used to be the Fourth of July, until I started following all these “Decolonizing” pages on instagram and now, well, I can’t un-know shit you know? It’s like unseeing shit you saw in Mexico. That’s not a thing. But to be fair, I only liked the Fourth of July because it brought back good memories of my childhood, and playing softball in the summer, and I always think of that scene in “The Sandlot” where they are playing ball and the fireworks are exploding over them and my childhood summers were a lot like that and I miss it. But I can see fireworks at Disney now, and once you see those the rest can’t even be compared, so Imma go with Christmas.


Beer or wine: Wine. You do not want to know what beer does to my intestines. Unless you do, then DM me. I have pictures.


Mild or hot salsa: I’m feeling HOT! HOT! HOT! (I think it is early onset menopause…)


Smooth or crunchy peanut butter: Crunchy used to make me want to gag a little bit in my mouth, and I would walk around my house on my high horse all, “Crunchy is gross and if you support it, I can’t support you.” Then when I got pregnant the second time I had this hankering for Crunchy (Lydia must have loved her some crunchy like her daddy) and now I like it. Prefer it actually. It might be, I dunno, psychosomatic, a lingering symptom of PTSD, but I’m rolling with it.


Waffle or pancakes: Chicken and waffles, pancakes no syrup just butter, or nothankyou.

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