A Tale of Two Shans

There are two Shans.

Shan #1 is the Shan I am out in public, the Shan that tries to be well-dressed, charming and funny. The Shan that always has a clean house and clean kids who are dressed adorably in coordinating outfits. That’s not to say that the public me is any less “me”. Don’t get me wrong, Shan #1 is still quite goofy, thinks the word “balls” is funny and has a potty mouth, but it’s filtered.  Slightly, anyway.

Then there’s Shan #2. Ha – I crack myself up every time I say #2, it’s immature I know, but I just can’t help it… but this is what I am talking about… Shan #2 is the unfiltered Shan, my inner monologue, if you will.  The one that thinks poop humor is the best, is slightly messy, happiest in tshirts and jeans and who’s mouth would offend even the most hardened sailor. The “me” that a very select few have had the opportunity to meet and get to know… Because there are things about myself that I like to keep private. (So I put them in a blog.  Makes perfect sense, right?)

I hate clutter.  Hate it.  It drives me insane.  And I freak out if people ever see my house looking anything but clean and organized.  I have made people wait outside until I have had a chance to quickly clean up before letting them in. I try really hard to keep my house clean – which I know my husband and kids find highly annoying. Just don’t open any closet doors… Or drawers.  Because it’s like Sanford & Son in there.  Every now and then I will clean them out and organize everything, but they’re back to their previous state within days.  If you ever come to my house and feel the need to open a closet door and something falls on you… well, you can’t say you weren’t warned. (There are two exceptions to this – my closet and my underwear/sock drawer.  I keep these extremely organized and I’m quite obsessive about it.)

My two favorite words in the english language: cock sucker & mother fucker. I like to use them together.  Maybe it’s the way they rhyme, I don’t know… Try saying it.  (Brief pause here for you to try it…) Doesn’t it just roll off the tongue? (Writer’s note: I am aware that those words are actually both phrases and therefore I should change the previous wording to read “my two favorite phrases” but I’m too lazy to go back and fix it and would rather expend more energy and time into explaining the fact that I realize my previous header needs correcting instead of just taking the two seconds necessary to fix it.)

As I alluded to in the previous paragraph – I don’t like people to know that I’m inherently lazy, even though my brain never stops – at any given moment I’m thinking of at least 20 different things and often change topics all together for no reason when talking… or writing.  I also feel the need to defend everything.  Or maybe defend is the wrong word…  It’s more like explain everything.  Everything I said, everything I did and why I did it.  I’m sure it drives people crazy…

OK – I’m about to go way TMI on everyone here and talk briefly about my bodily functions.  If you want you can skip this paragraph and go to the next…  I can’t go to Target without having to take a shit.  It’s crazy.  I have been this way for as long as I can remember. I walk into Target, and immediately my body is like, “It’s poop time!”.  I find it quite interesting.  What is it about Target of all places that causes my body to have this reaction?  Even weirder… I know for a fact I am not the only person whom this strange phenomena effects.  Others have told me that they are affected in the same manner.  Is it something in the air in Target? A chemical that Target puts in their extremely delicious, cost-efficient popcorn?  What is it?

I like to eat raw ramen noodles over the kitchen sink (because they are messy).  I will only do this in complete privacy because I think it’s gross (but it’s sooooo good).

I’m a big Star Wars nerd. I will watch Star Wars (Episodes IV – VI) whenever I come across them while channel surfing.  A couple Halloween’s ago I dressed as Leia for work (the costume was chosen for me) and I pretended like it wasn’t fucking awesome.  But it was. I even got to carry a blaster.  It was an Imperial blaster which a fellow SWN (Star Wars Nerd) pointed out was incorrect. But – I was dressed as New Hope Leia – in the white, with the buns.  The blaster she used in that movie was Luke’s, which was when he was disguised as a Storm Trooper, so therefore the Imperial blaster was the correct one to carry for the costume. I did not tell the fellow SWN this as I usually try to filter some of my nerddom in public. (Shan #2 is waaaay nerdier.) I think I just shrugged my shoulders and in my inner monologue said, “and you call yourself a Star Wars fan…”



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