I'm going to call her HotPocket

So I had a drink (raspberry lemonade because my tummy still can’t think of liquor without rolling every which way) with my crush.
When I casually mentioned that I do this crazy little bloggy thing she jumped out of her chair and crawled over the table – oh wait, that was just in my head – ok, she did almost jump out of her chair. She was really excited and demanded to know my address. I wouldn’t tell her because I’m shy. *snicker, snort* No, I wouldn’t tell her because I’m not so sure I’m ready for her to see the Crazy. You know! The Crazy (with a capital C). I can be a little nonplused by some things that most people get. I tend to get a little neurotic about some things that don’t even register on a normal person’s radar. And I get completely apeshit CRAZY about the rest. I know that all women have some brand of Crazy going on in their head. I just tend to vomit mine up on the keyboard every day for the whole internet to see. And I kind of like her… like like… So we’re going to hold off on the Crazy induction for a bit.

But in case you were wondering: It was nice *blush*