So, I was going to come here and provide a huge rebuttal to the common thought that I am "scary." In this rebuttal, I was going to rattle off my insecurities -- i.e., I will never be worthy of love -- fears -- i.e., never getting a grown-up job I like -- and conclude with an emotional outpouring in which I think it's a wise idea to lay everything out there so my friends can unmercifully torture me for the next few weeks.
But instead, I'll just tell you all that I made about 5 dozen cookies and a pretty decent batch of baked macaroni this evening. If I were truly mean and butch and oh-so-scary, I would not have the skills to be a good little woman and kick serious domesticated ass.
