I'm going to start out by saying that this is about the 40 millionth blog I have tried to write. Ok that may be exaggerated slightly, but only by like .5 or so.
http://www.tumblr.com/tumblelog/missadapted
That is my last one. This is going to be my last one. Swear on my almost dead fishes lives.
I am going to enter into this by sharing a story that is very near and dear to my heart. At dinner a couple nights ago with my dad, Gerald (the boyfriend of mine who I so lovingly refer to as G), Sally (my symbiotic life partner), and Kelsey (that little voice in my head of reason) sitting in Texas Roadhouse which happens to be my favorite restaurant ever. Their rolls are so so delish. Anyways, I get my steak that I ordered and G automatically slides a little bit away from me and Sally and Kels just watch in amusement as I try and cut it.
Now to help you understand where I am coming from, I was in Cottilion (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080224213949AAkM8XL in case you were wondering what the hell that is). So I was in Cottilion AND I am left handed. Come to find out at dinner that night that my parents tried to "reform" me and make me right handed, but I prevailed and my left handedness won! Which seems like a pretty sweet victory until I took Cottilion and they told me I could not cut my meat with my left hand. So I tried to learn right handed which did not work out well, and now... I am stuck somewhere in between. And look like a semi retarded baboon trying to eat steak.
Ps. If you ask the waiter to cut it for you they either laugh, or say that is called the "Geriatric Service" and then still laugh. Your choice.
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