yes, this is (or is about to) happening.

So. After years (and trust me, that is an actual truth and not my own narcissism) of inquiries, suggestions, and encoursgement, I am finally starting my blog. It's funny- when people know you are a "writer" and you lapse into a lifestyle in which you are not writing, you are constantly asked why that is the case. And what you are going to do about it.

Well, this is my answer. Because I work for a mortgage company and the extent of the writing I do on a daily basis entails nothing more than account notation and emails to my boss, I don't really have the opportunity to practice my "craft" on a regular basis. That is, of course, if you don't count carefully constructed Facebook statuses and text messages. And the truth is, most people don't. So here I am.

As I have long contemplated what I could possibly blog about- not being newly married, an expert cook, or a resourceful mother- I have struggled with what I could bring to the blogospheric table. I know more than the average person should about popular culture, crappy top 40 radio, and student loan debt, but those are not exactly things that inspire me to read...and I am sure no one else, for that matter.

So, what I have ultimately decided I am qualified to muse about is life, and the constantly confusing, contradictory, and downright amusing things that happen on a daily basis. Because I seem to have one of those existences where things of inexplicable nature always seem to happen and I constantly find myself wondering, "why isn't anyone else here to see this!?" Please reference my Facebook page for examples.

So, that in a nutshell, is my blog. I may have my moment of impassioned incredulity, but for the most part, I just want to use this entity as an outlet to discuss those things that we all encounter on a day-to-day basis that make no sense. But they usually are, if anything else, hilarious.

I have no veiled, or other wise explicitly stated, intentions of influencing anyone's opinion on anything. Nor do I intend to offend anyone's sensibilities as they relate to anything of substance. I basically just find that I have a pretty normal life, with happenstance humerous situations that I feel are worthy of sharing. Or at least putting out there so my Mom can read. Either way- take it with no more than a grain of salt.

So to that end, the thing about life today that "I just don't understand" is-- women and the bathroom.

If any of you reading work in an office environment with a substantial amount of females, SURELY you have noticed that there are those women who camp out in the bathroom because they have business to attend to, but are unwilling to really commit to because other individuals in the bathroom can hear.

And I do not understand this.

It is a bathroom. No one is of the opinion that tea parties and cooking classes are being conducted in that space. It is a facility designated for a human being of the female gender to dispose of excrement. Sorry; that is not a dainty description, but it is a fact. That is what the entire purpose of a bathroom is. Unless you are in the plaza hotel on your honeymoon and you have the jacuzzi tub fired up for the first night of matrimonial bliss, the entire purpose of the bathroom is to go potty. Do your business. Te-tee. Drop a duece. You don't need me to go on.

So, on a daily basis, I am constantly amused by the women at my workplace who attempt to disguise their use of the bathroom and/or wait everyone else out like a man sitting in a deer stand waiting for the perfect shot at a buck (I am dating a hunter-- sorry for the metaphor), because they don't want the other women they work with to know that they need to take a shit. Hate to tell you honey, I saw how many trips you made to the coffee machine and I know, only because of the multiple trips I made myself, that I have some business to take care of; who do you think you're kidding right now?

So, as a result, every time I go into the bathroom and notice the pair of black pumps in the stall next to me has not moved for about 10 minutes (because you better bet your ass I have now taken this reality to a level of study and actually wait it out in the bathroom just to prove myself right), I want to say, out loud and definitively as possible-- "just go for it! no one is judging you!" Because I'm not. And any other woman that does is probably constipated because she is too afraid to just let it go herself.

But alas, I don't. Because that is poor bathroom etiquette.

And that is just something I don't understand.