The awesome life of Tasha...

If I had the means (and/or the nerve) I would totally be pumped full of neuro toxins. May not sound that attractive, but heck yeah, I would do it. I think my forehead would appreciate a little relaxing.  And if it weren't for a stinking anaphylactic allergy to muscle relaxants I would absolutely give it a shot. Ha! No pun intended. And yet, even with the threat of death, it still crosses my mind at least once a week that I should look into injecting my face full of  botulinum toxin type A . And really, are muscle relaxants and botulism in the same family? But as I sit here typing away, Coco Loves IceT has come on the TV. Have you seen this show? Seriously what the heck?! Coco is apparently 33. I was so shocked that I had to Google her. She is, in fact, 33. (And just as a side note, IceT is 54! Holy senior citizen! Still, to this day, when I see IceT all I can think of is him dressed as a kangaroo... Tank Girl. Great movie even though IceT is clearly a freak)  Thirty-Three.

Patience. Some people have it. I, however, do not. Some days I think I do, then all I have to do is slide in behind the wheel of a vehicle and I realize, what a facade. Patience is not one of my virtues. And really, I am not sure why people think it is so important. I get through life just fine with my short fuse. What's wrong with a little anger? Nothing, I say. And if you disagree, well I have no patience for you. Traffic, or rather other vehicles on the road in general, will always set me on edge. Whatever semblance of patience I may have thought I had, is blown right out the window. For the most part, I can dispel my feelings of vehicular ire by cursing a blue streak in the privacy of my own vehicle. And I am quite sure I could make a sailor blush at the variety of vulgar language I can come up with while driving. I am an extremely creative, non-patient person. I do have to give myself some credit, I actually have a wee bit more tolerance than I used to back in the