My blog post for this collaboration can be found here.
The following post is from a guest blogger, a lovely fellow by the name of Bret. I wanted a clever way to introduce my guest, perhaps a funny anecdote, but instead of sitting down and applying myself, I decided to watch a scary movie. It wasn't even scary, stupid IFC channel always showing horror films that are not horrific in the slightest. It was even mislabeled, the movie was supposed to be about two teenage girls who receive an ominous warning from their creepy step-mother, but it was some other movie about a woman with extreme agoraphobia who marries the man who makes a documentary about her phobia and then she starts seeing ghosts in her house. Don't you just hate it when they mislabel movie and television shows? Sheesh!
That blathering I just did up there should count as an anecdote, even if it wasn't that interesting. Whatever, I haven't had any coffee yet, just some Earl Grey tea.
On to Bloggerstock! Kick back, relax, and enjoy!
Hello good Tsaritassamassa readers. My name is Bret Staples and I also write a blog. Of course, no one reads mine. In fact, just you reading this sentence right now pretty much doubles my total readership over the last month. So thanks. If you are looking for her post, you can find it somewhere on here.
Anyway, you are reading this because Tsaracasa and I both signed up for something called Bloggerstock. Bloggerstock is a website for bloggers that challenges anyone who signs up to write a post with a similar theme. Then those posts get posted on other blogger's websites, thus sharing and potentially increasing readership, except for the Tsaharasta of course, who is likely losing readers with every word I type.
Type. Type. Type.
It's a fun little thing to do, and if you have a blog you should sign up next month. All Bloggerstock asks in return is that you link to their site about 50 million times.
If you want to read more on this, you can visit my blog to read a post from The Bear Monk. Let me also give a sincere apology to the Tsaritsa; I know that posting this is likely the most humiliating thing that you have ever done. If it makes you feel any better I am deeply ashamed of this entire thing. I'm sorry for this scar on your blog.
This months topic:
Oh the many things in my life I wish that I could do over.
I suppose the most obvious would be my life. Had you told me 10 years ago that I would be a fat, lazy guy with a low income job and questionable hygiene I would have been appalled. Of course, my parents would have been impressed. "What? He has a job? And his hygiene has improved all the way up to questionable?!? We must be amazing parents!" Indeed they are. Whenever I take my usual every-third-day shower, I know that they are probably looking down on me from Heaven unquestionably proud. That is if they have happen to be dead. We aren't real close.
I feel like using my entire life as a do over would be cheating. Instead I could talk about how I wish I could go back to when I was 4, and tell my mom my shoes didn't fit, so that maybe I wouldn't have strange crooked toes now. Of course, sleeping through that Biology final was a very poor decision. I have lived with some roommates whom are likely in prison. I sure wish I hadn't accidentally downloaded those pictures of 14 year old boys; it turns out being defined as a "sexual predator" isn't a fun as it sounds. Oh my God the many nights Taco Bell has kept me up and chained to the bathroom. Clearly KFC was the better option. There was also that horrible time at my Dad's bosses funeral that when his widow asked how I was, I responded, "I'm living." Naturally, I also wish I could do over my decision to sign up for this Bloggerstock thing.
However, I feel that this topic requires a serious answer, and since this isn't for my blog anyway, here goes:
I hurt a friend many years ago. I was young. She was young. She intended to save herself for marriage, or at least the right guy I suppose, and I knew I wasn't that guy. Still, she liked me, and we were close friends, and, I don't know. Maybe things did go a little far. Maybe I could have stopped it from happening if I really wanted to. Maybe I knew how naive she really was. We aren't close today, but I know that I am forever a part of her history, and I am sure that she regrets it. As for me I think about that night often. Every single day. I remember every second; I remember every movement. I remember every touch, every feeling. I remember the apprehension in both of us, and the feeling that we knew we had reached the point of no return. I would love to have that night to do over. I wish more than anything that I could give her virginity back.
So then I could take it again.