100
I am not perfect. I used to spend a lot of time thinking about perfection. I have always liked the number 100. I had theories on numerology and physics and astrology and nutrition that would lead to 100 and therefore perfection. I drank 100-proof vodka, I hovered around 100 pounds (in my clothes), and I checked the locks on my doors 100 times a day. Once, I shared those thoughts with my therapist, who responded, "I think it's time we thought about commitment." I thought we were moving too fast. I was not ready to be committed anywhere. Instead, she gave me a book on mindfulness and perfection.The book informed me that perfection was perfectly impossible. Confused, I pondered this thought. At first, I took it to mean that I was already impossibly perfect and it's damn hard to improve on that. Then, I thought that perhaps it meant that it wasn't possible to polish a turd. Now, I just spend a lot of time working of self-improvement.
I work so hard on self-improvement that it looks effortless. That is part of the beauty of it all. I am constantly working and yet, I make it appear as though I am effortlessly wasting away my time here on Earth drinking and shoe shopping. That would be a false assumption. Clearly, I am a much deeper being. Take yesterday for example.
Yesterday, I learned how to make coffee. I own a single serving French press and I make coffee in it once a month because coffee is like crack to me and Lord knows that I don't need anything that makes me any more hyper. I made my first pot of coffee yesterday. I used a filter. I estimated the amount of coffee. I filled the reservoir past the fill line and had to mop up the water that spilled out of the overflow spout in the rear of the machine. Still, I pursued. Ten minutes later, I had coffee. It was hot and it was strong and it was good. I drank four cups because I like hazelnut CoffeeMate and it is 25 calories a serving and 100 calories is perfect.
Satisfied with my achievement, I volunteered to walk Jamie's chihuahua, Ozzie. I walked Ozzie 89 nearly perfect steps before he took a sh*t. Prepared with a plastic bag, I picked up the tiny perfect dog crap. We walked an additional 11 steps before I picked Oz up, so as not to disturb the perfection of the entire situation. Carrying Oz and a plastic bag stolen from the produce section, I was the picture of a perfectly responsible dog walker.
At the end of my day, I reviewed all that I had accomplished. I made coffee. I picked up crap. It was a perfect day.
I called Mom to tell her about my success. Mom is always happy to about my strides toward self-improvement. I told her about the coffee and about how responsible I was in dealing with the crap.
Mom sighed, "it sounds like you're ready for marriage," she said.
I know Dad likes coffee, but I never knew that he had a bowel problem.
Mist 1
Posted by Mist1 @ 6:41 AM
116 Comments:
That was a perfect ending for your post.
The first time I filled the coffee pot beyond the fill line was at work. I got to have the pleasure of 35 coworkers taking turns coming into the break room so they could laugh at me as I cleaned it up. I still get a tick and a twitch when I smell coffee...
Wait! What did your therapist mean about perfection. You mean I have been wasting my time all these years?
Wait! What did your therapist mean about perfection. You mean I have been wasting my time all these years?
You're a good woman. I never pick up the poo on dog walks.
I calculated that I shed 100 strands of hair (doesn't matter what kind) yesterday. Does that make me perfect, Mist?
Each day I wake up thinking "I wish I could marry Mist." Then I read something in your daily post that reminds me why it might not be a good idea. But not today. Today you only made it more tempting.
Don't we all get shit from our families?
120 is a far better number. It divides into lots of things, it looks pretty, I like 120.
Other than that you're pretty much heading towards perfection. Your therapist is just jealous.
Does counting everything mean you have OCD? I think I have it!
That must have been one big old supermarket...
What exactly is Coffeemate? Weird white powder. Animal? Mineral? Vegetable?
Puss
Sorry to burst your bubble, but your blog only has 44 sentences. Perfect sentences, but only 44 of them.
Seriously, I like it when you blog in a way that reveals a bit of your genuine neurosis. Makes the rest of us feel less alone.
Well done.
Your mom must have stolen a lot of produce bags over the years!
once i had a REALLY bad day (week) and bought a huge bottle of ketel one, a bottle of baileys, a bottle of maker's mark and several other bottles because although at the liquor store i knew i wanted to get drunk, i was unsure which avenue to take. when i got home i proceeded to put a massive dent in the bottle of ketel, drinking myself happy. for some reason i thought it would be a good idea to call my mom. "mum, i'm a success! i wanted to get drunk and dammit i succeeded!" she was so not impressed. sigh.
I am terrible at math. It wreaks havoc on my OCD. I keep having to start over.
michael,
That is why I work alone...when I work.
mistress,
Apparently, perfection is unattainable.
nina,
A chihuahua poo is hardly a poo.
venge,
Perfect. In every way.
othur,
I can't imagine what would turn you off in my other posts.
tim,
Some people get trust funds with their sh*t.
pie,
120 is nice too. It would be a stronger vodka.
akelamalu,
It is not enough to think that you have OCD. You must obsess over that fact.
puss,
CoffeeMate is some kind of flavored petroleum product that I will not drink coffee without.
mystic,
44 is perfect in a special way. Two fours is pretty damn good.
wg,
It's all I stand to inherit.
hello,
You should have called my mom.
lee,
Feng Shui wreaks havoc on my OCD. I keep having to redecorate.
I think the stars are aligned in yours and Nina's bloggiverse today!
Excuse me while I try to nap for 100 minutes.
I've always liked the number 7. I have no idea why. It just seems right in my mind.
Can I talk you into guest posting on my blog next week? Email me if I can bribe you to do it.
1,
You're fine. You make perfect coffee, now perhaps we can try green tea?
101 Dalmatians bothers you doesn't it?
I eat 100 cheeseburgers a day.
we should all be mindful of mist's quest for perfection. i propose that every one of her entries receive 100 comments, no more, no less. if mist can be perfect, i think we owe it to her to strive for perfection too.
tera,
While you nap, I'm going to consult my charts.
susan,
Seven is good. Seventeen is better.
melody,
Email me details. I don't do weekends or holidays. I will need my own trailer. Also, I travel with my personal stylist, makeup artist, and bartender.
0,
I'm awfully experienced with tea
bagging.
furious,
I love all things black and white.
av,
Try 50 double cheeseburgers.
maximo,
Where have you been? I thought you left me. I cried 100 tears.
Ready for marriage? Hell, you're ready for Motherhood. Caffeine and picking up crap about sums it up on most days.
nance,
Boy, when you put it like that, I can hardly resist your enthusiasm.
Isn't that the appeal of perfection, and consequently why it makes most of us crazy? In that it's so impossibly hard to achieve?
"I can't imagine what would turn you off in my other posts."
There really isn't anything, I just needed somewhere to go with this comment.
Self improvement seems to be the catchphrase of the day.
I think the fact that you pick up Ozzie's poo makes you at least 100% better and nicer than most people.
At my house, the coffee and the crapping are very much entwined.
Folgers is a great lubricant. Just don't use it in your car.
b. port,
Speak for yourself. I'm not crazy. Ask my therapist.
othur,
Okay then. I had to go through my archives to see what it could be that would be undesirable. I couldn't find a thing.
123,
I'm not going to juggle the poo or anything.
bk,
I've never used Folgers as a lubricant. I did snort a few lines of it in a club once.
How did your mother get you being ready for marriage out of your perfect day?
I'm not nearly obsessed enough about perfection. I get things half done and say "good enough." Oz would have been lucky if I had picked up half of his poo.
The thought of you marrying and reproducing is both fraught with comic possibility and very very frightening.
hiya, mist. oh i've been around. busy (and getting busy) with "the girl".
anyhow... what do you think of these?
mutt,
Coffee and crap. Clearly, she's divorced.
sqt,
Half a chihuahua poo is microscopic.
jazz,
That's when this blog turns from comedy to tragedy.
maximo,
The link doesn't work. Clearly, you meant grill and not girl. You wouldn't want me to get jealous, would you?
hmm.
http://www.iflipflop.com/uploaded_images/nike90supremacy-730760.jpg
what? you? jealous? is that even possible?
maximo,
I experience a full range of human emotions. Tipsy, intoxicated, hungover...
Your therapist needs help.
But look at it this way, you could have been a lawyer. I mean, every day in thousands of courtrooms in the world, HALF, and I do mean HALF, as in 50 percent, of ALL of those lawyers, are proven to be WRONG.
So that would make your attempt to be perfect lawyer a shot in the dark.
To live with less than perfection, do what most Texas educators and our president do. redefine success.
If failing becomes successful, then hitting a 70 is perfection!
perfection is often misguided self abuse. interesting ending, but it makes me wonder if your dad is a dog.
i see. well... on to more important matters... what do you think of the shoes?
I think I've gained 100 lbs, making me more than ready for marriage.
Tell your therapist you put the "imp" in "impossible," and then subtract $100 from her bill.
I am drinking Folgers right now. It's the natural light of coffee.
The company won't dish out money for Maxwell House.
There's a machine that makes chocca-mocha-latte-chinos downstairs, but I don't want to smell like a German bakery.
Now it all starts making sense doesn't it? The divorce I mean, not the commitment.
You are indeed well on your way to prefection. Myself, I drink an entire pot of strong black coffee each day and need cats to calm me down. No one is ever ready for marriage.
larry,
You're right. 70 is my new perfect number.
melanie,
Not that I've heard. Dogs do not drink coffee.
maximo,
If I don't have anything nice to say, I'm not supposed to say anything at all.
fringes,
I am waiting until marriage to put on 100 pounds.
tammy,
That is adorably impish. However, she no longer charges me as some kind of civic duty or something.
nolff,
I love it when you call me chocca mocha latte chino.
That's why I, Dallas Dysfunction, joined Bank Of America's Keep the Change Program. I like even 100's. ( this is no way sponsored by Bank of America... even if they did pay me to say this...under the table...mafia style)
stacy,
I'll never understand commitment. Divorce makes perfect sense.
spell,
My cat doesn't calm me down. He makes me think about opening a vein. Mine, not his.
I found freedom in trying my hardest to never be prefect. But learning to make a product that makes you pooh and being able to pic up pooh in a stolen bag is about as perfect as I am willing to go.
dallas,
Why are you under the table with a fistful of change?
honk,
Next, I am going to learn how to make prunes.
I loved you ending. You are a hoot Mist. A prefect hoot. Have a great day. :)
comedy,
I was hoping to have another perfect day, but my hair had other plans.
Nah - no marriage - you are perfect just the way you are......(mushy wasn't it?)
cheeky,
I am my own better half.
here's to hoping you get 100 comments on this one. :) PERFECTION!
I give this blog post 100%. I didn't know you were so weird. But I'm delighted to find out.
I have picked up so much shit...at least 100 piles!
miztris,
If I don't, I will need more therapy and another book on mindfulness.
lbb,
What's weird about having a deeply passionate feeling about a number?
jenny,
That's perfectly crappy.
hmmm... you're not one of those adventurous-shoe-wearers.
maximo,
Heels. I don't wear anything even remotely practical.
i like shoes that have pointy teeth.
Crack is what you are to readers, misty. Even your responses to responses to responses to the ninth speak of a well oiled dynamo in the hyper stages of transcendence.
You need to post every day. You wouldn't say you're great if you weren't.
Or you would, but that's not likely so.
On an obvious note, I don't need coffee either--I need a breakfast plate! The last line hit home bg time. I only hope its coffee. Actually, I hope it's fiction for you. Hell in a breadbasket, baby.
Thanks for the laughs once again
(btw the cc is wonderfully ac'd. perhaps i'll move to the computer lab no matter what goes on at home)
maximo,
All the better to nibble your toes with, my dear.
eric,
I don't want to go to Hell in a breadbasket. I'd rather do it carrying a handbag.
I simply cannot post every day. I need the weekends off.
The computer lab sounds nice. A few fresh cut flowers and it will feel just like home.
If you get married by the Catholic church, they'll want to know you can make good coffee before they'll marry you.
Ah, the metaphorical crap of marriage; I haven't experienced it myself, but it does seem, in most marriages, that coffee is the best method of revving up to crap-clean.
When you wrote your 100th post, did you have to quit that blog and start a new one?
You must know that marriage is fully of making stuff and picking up crap.
hell in the handbag for venus
hell in his breadbasket for mars
do not pss go do not yadayadayada
Um I H A T E those shoes maximo...
Mist: I have been gone, and I MIST you.
Just trying to help you reach 100 perfect comments! Perfection is the look in your three year old's eyes when you make an elephant out of Duplo blocks on her birthday.
matt,
You're not Catholic, are you? Only the altar boys make coffee.
jocelyn,
You know, I should go back and count. I passed 100 here without even noticing. I feel imperfect.
c,
It sounds beautiful.
eric,
Is it cliche to go carrying a red handbag?
scotts,
You put that so delicately. And I Mist you too.
ros,
I have a three year old? I've got to lay off the vodka.
I am still trying to process the fact that you may not be perfect...
here's to perfect days!
fab,
It's hard to believe. Rest assured, my imperfections are nearly impossible to detect.
nofear,
I'll drink to that.
By any chance, are you a Virgo??
I know you've been free in discussing your masturbatory habits - but I feel awkward asking.
And sorry I've been absent from the Mist1 Loft of Humor - too much going on in my life. And not enough vodka or shoe-shopping.
I
24
people
aren't
posting
before
me,
right
now.
I
to
the
that
ruins
your
game.
Crap.
I miscounted.
tigger,
I'm a Leo. Are you hitting on me? Because, if you are, I'd like a vodka tonic, please.
tammy,
Damn. Now, I'm the a$$hole who screwed up the count.
101. Not perfect. Sigh.
I love the way coffee smells. It promises joy, but delivers only cramps and gas. Coffee is a goddamn liar!
Dammit! I wanted to be 100. Oh well, at least my comment has exactly 100 characters. You're welcome.
slag,
Can you take Bean-o with coffee?
capt. smack,
I also have 100 characters. My therapists says that we will work on that next.
lol mist! you just got sick of the e-mails in place of comments where everyone couldn't see and participate. :-) brilliant.
depends; business or casual.
the domain of satan only enforces it's dress code if you are an "undesirable".
heather,
My email box is a fun place to be. Maybe I should post some of my favorites here. I love what you all send me.
eric,
I've been called worse than undesirable.
mist, hold onto that idea for when you don't feel like posting anything. cheater posts are a great thing.:-)
heather,
I think I've already pulled that one once.
Leo...Virgo...we're all freakin' pefectionists...
And I have to shoe-shop with you first, THEN drinks, what kinda girl do you think I am?
:-)
tigger,
I do some of my best shoe shopping after cocktails.
Ahhhhh, coffe press. The high art of coffee making. Thank goodness I work at a coffee house or I would go broke.
camplin,
I love my press. I make a very thick cup of coffee.
100 perfect steps... I'll have to try that. I aspire to perfection too...
tammie,
I think 100 steps is a little extreme. 12 seems to work just fine.
100 is a perfect number, thats for sure.
orhan,
I don't know what it is about 100. Maybe I'll change my name to Mist 100.
That sounds like a hair spray. All you need is the word 'GLOW' in there somewhere.
orhan,
I abhor hairspray. My curls don't like to be crunchy.
You're not suggesting I eat your hair?
orhan,
We have so much training to do.
orhan,
You have passed the first test. Well done.
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