When I was in fifth and sixth grade I lived with my fucked up stepdad in this fucked up double-wide trailer on Petway Road. Not sure whose idea it was but we owned two goats, a momma goat and a baby goat. We had houses for them and hay and a salt lick, and even though they both met a tragic demise, they lived happy lives while our family lived a few feet away in constant terror and turmoil.
Sometimes I would sneak out to the goats’ houses for a reprise from the scariness of it all. And I would lick on the salt lick. Lick it right up.
So gross, right? Well, this blog post serves as more than just a confession. It’s also a disclosure to the boyfriend. I tried over and over to tell you this in person sweetie, but I just couldn’t, so I wrote about this here so you would know.
Baby, I gave you goat cooties.
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In an obvious way this is really weird and twisted. But the more I think about it, it’s really not. I mean why shouldn’t you lick the salt lick, that’s what it’s there for, right?
GOAT GIRL! GOAT GIRL!
now for
my confession…
when I was small I had
an irrational fear of buttons
my mom who did alot of sewing
had a coffee can full of buttons
that made me gag just to look at it.
so Catholic school was hell
because everones shirt was covered with buttons.
I guess that makes me Button Boy BuTTON BOY!
I still quiver just at the sight of the words button I hate that word!
Even though i’ve heard this story before, it’s still as funny as hell.
And…
…i used to sniff powdered soap up my nose in fifth grade because the cooler kids dared me to.
Please tell us what became of the goats.
Mmm, salt.
Mmmm, goats.
BEASTIALITRIX
Clariiiiice… tell me about the goats… have the goats stopped screaming?
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