I've become a ditzy ex-cheerleader

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I have become a ditz. I don't know if I should blame the hormones because some of the ditziness occurred before I started taking it, but I'll blame it anyway because that's what ditzes do. Unfortunately, the following stories are true:

I was on my way to Brandon mall, which is like the hugest mall in my area. It's a good distance away from where I live, but for 300 + stores that don't cater to the thug lifestyle (like the mall a few miles away from my house). It is worth the trip. The issue is, once you get there, you start crawling around for a parking spot. Didn't matter, I was going shopping and was going to be happy. I decided to call Erin. I do that when I am bored sometimes and I wanted to talk about publishing GBTC (like I said this was a while ago). After about 5 minutes I found a parking spot and pulled in my van. I then started hunting down my wallet. It had fallen on the side of the center console. Almost ready. But then I started looking for my phone. It wasn't in the center console. It wasn't on the side of the center console. I checked under the seats, not there. I Checked in the little cubbyhole under my radio, found some mints, no phone. Checked inside my glove box, didn't find gloves, didn't find the phone. I was getting frustrated. I knew I had taken the phone with me, where was it? I saw the charger plugged into the lighter, followed the cord, nothing. "Grr," I said, "I can't find this damn thing anywhere." Finally Joyce asks me "But what are you looking for?" I told her, "My phone, I can't find it anywhere." In which she replies, "you mean the phone you're talking on?"

Now this happened last night. Everyone knows I work nights and usually get up just before I leave for work (I take a late nap before work because it just feels right to wake up and then go to work, not be up for eight hours and then work). Anyway, I got dressed, grabbed my stuff and was about to leave. I just needed my van keys, which I just saw a minute ago on my entertainment center in front of my 60 inch tv (Cheap plug but its the only cool thing I own, thank you Tampa PD). I couldn't believe it. Where did my keys go. I moved some stuff around on the entertainment center. Nothing. I looked behind it and under it, nothing. I have this little cat condo thing that my cats never go in and so I use it as a table for my mouse and keyboard (yes, I'm typing this on a 60 inch monitor) I have a habit of putting things in there, but no key to be found. I was about to go find the pants I wore earlier, until I realized the keys were in my hand. This is worst then not being able to find your glasses because they are on your head.

All I need are pompoms and a scandalously short skirt. Well on my way to being a ditzy ex-cheerleader.

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