I'm Not Your Damn Dowager Aunt!!!!!!!!

Well, now that I got that out, I feel better. Don't ask why it needed to get out. My life is a strange, twisting, and often dull thing. What amounts to massive drama in my life might just equal the excitement of Lauren Conrad stopping off to pee at a Coach Store on "The Hills."
But seriously, people. I have seen some things over this past year, and I have discovered enough to know that some of you out there are really sick and strange individuals. Much like myself. So, I'm glad to say that I can achieve relative safety in numbers, and that maybe, just maybe, the crocodile will grab one of you other stupid water buffalo today instead of me. Here's to hoping. Just kidding. I'm not that cut-throat. I don't have it in me. When I was told in training to find my 'killer instinct,' the only thing I could do was pretend I was playing a part in a Charlie Sheen war movie and just scream a lot and act really erratic. It seemed to fool my stoic keepers; either that, or, more likely, they just didn't care, knowing that I would never, ever have occasion to use any of the artillery that I was currently mishandling.
I'm sure that at this point you're asking yourself, is there an actual point to this bs? And the answer to that, dear friend, is no. This is just as wending and disjointed as the thoughts that run around in circles in my head from day to day. Welcome to the Thunderdome, bitches. I just decided that I would take this time to throw out a little random rant about things in general and particular, and not necessarily in that order. So, here goes. Here are some questions that I've found myself asking lately:

One: Why do I have such an aversion to leftovers? If I ate it once, what's the worst that could happen if I ate it again? (That's what she said.)

Two: Why do I have such an insurmountable collection of crap in my house? Is there anything here that I would really miss if I burned it to the ground?

Three: Why is it that people seem to talk to me when I CLEARLY do not want them to? And, of all the things to say, they offer to bite me.... Alright, so maybe I'm not the most normal person out there, but COME ON. I think I hide it well. How is it that I seem to be some sort of magnet for the posterchildren of post-birth abortion? Where the hell are the dinosaurs when you need them? Natural selection is just being too damn choosey these days.

Four: Why, in the name of all that is Holy, are there MREs in my cupboard?

Those are all that I can think of at this particular juncture in time. If you have answers for me, please won't you share them with the class?