I’m that dowdy girl next door

Yes, I’m thatdowdygirl who gets sand kicked in her face at the beach. Yes, I have long, brown straight hair, moustache, beady eyes. And bangs. I wear glasses and I’m brainy. No, I didn’t go to my Senior prom. Who’ll take the girl with the skinny legs? This dowdy girl is mental, like in cerebral, not nucking futz or interested in fashion, hats, nail polish, or the newest kitchen gadget. I live on the sidelines.  I didn’t learn early on the fine art of flirting, wearing 4-inch high heels, or drawing on red blubbery lips. No, thisdowdygirl takes after Sybil Shepard -wears flats – not the gorgeous looks. I pick at my food, spend more time on the bathroom throne fighting off the effects of nerves. I ruminate a lot, too. What the hell is wrong with me?!?! I’m not that freakin’ ugly. Just plain vanilla. You know, when it comes to ice cream, plain vanilla is more appealing than, let’s say, some dum old banana split with strawberry, chocolate, peppermint, and salmon ice scream, artificial cherries (avec branch on one end), glob of whipped cream out of the can, smothered in, well, nuts. Thank you very much.  Plus, vanilla goes with everything [grrr].

thatdowdygirl will have the last laugh

Babble on

If.
you would please,
get the message:
take stream-of-consciousness ramblings
you know,
the off-the-cuff
babblings,
[as in nonsense]
no. sense.
falsies & factoids,
phallic meanderings
and,
off-the-wall obelisk imagery,
4 letter words,
[leave love alone]
and same such stuff,
fold them in 3’s,
roll up your sleeves,
and place the stuff up
your
.
.
.
point,
[the one your hat sits on]
.
.
viz,
self-erected pious pyramid,
om in self awe, to the tune
of Hypocrisy in Osophies,
and confine them to the couch,
as in Freud-sense,
[sans the incense]
then,
no apology,
no offense.

copyright © thatdowdygirl