I was very unofficially tagged, mostly because silly Sue doesn't believe in actually tagging people because she might hurt someone's feelings. (It's not a bad thing, I'm the same way) Anyways, I thought this was fun so I chose to be tagged, and I'm suffering from writer's block so this is a good way to get the mojo flowing again.
ten random things about me, ME, ME, ME.
I like myself: (as if that wasn't obvious enough) but I'm talking like, really like myself. actually, my sister has a shirt that has my mantra on it (give me a sec to clear my throat) "I know I'm not perfect, but parts of me are pretty awesome."
I have to sleep with my feet covered and tucked in: It's true. I'm paranoid about something eating my feet. What, you ask? Oh, I don't know, maybe any random creature that I make up in my head. That's right. I scare myself every night thinking "not hairy, not beady red eyes, not long fangs..." guess which monster I'm scared of right now?
I'm also wary of nuns: Yes, nuns. The Catholic kind with their heads covered. This one I blame on my father (sorry dad) Once upon a time, when I was very small, we had a basement. Where all the kids rooms were and where my dad had to go to watch his scary shows because my mom didn't want to watch that junk. anyways. I used to sneak out behind the couch and watch the scary movies with my dad. . .there was some movie, where the ladies were dressed up like nuns. All different colored ones, red, yellow, orange, blue. . . Then there was this priest guy onstage, holding another guy, and announcing into the microphone: "He raped this woman, he killed her child!" and then, the priest guy threw the bad guy into the middle on the nuns, and they SCRAPED OFF HIS HEAD!!! WITH THEIR FINGERNAILS!!! AGHHHHH!!!
Which incidentally brings me to here: I bite my fingernails. Have ever since.
I love sour candy. I mean, the really, really sour kind that makes your scalp sweat. If I even think about it a little, I begin to salivate and my head starts sweating prematurely. weird, I know
I don't like chocolate. I know, what woman doesn't like chocolate? Me. I like sour candy. see above.
I'm scared of running into anyone I ever knew from high school: First of all, I'm paranoid that nobody will actually remember me in the first place, Secondly, I don't want them to think, "whoa, what happened to her?" Thirdly, I do not EVER want this to happen again: (if you've ever had a baby, you can appreciate the utter humiliation of this moment.) At Wal-Mart. Middle of the night. 9 months pregnant. No make-up. Sans kids, because they've been puking on me all day. Simply at said Mart to replenish medical supplies. So, I have in my cart, in preparation for week to come, (remember, I'm about to have a baby) Pedialyte, kleenex, Depends (the ENORMOUS package) hemorroid cream, tucks, nursing pads, nursing cream, tylenol, stool softeners. . .you get the idea. And then I hear, "It IS you!" from my high school boyfriends best friend... and his brother. It was awful. And I'm pretty sure I did not have on a bra. It was bad.
Concerning bras and bosoms: I hate when people have uneven nipples. It bugs me. they're all *twang* and the woman doesn't even care! I think it's so gross, so yes, I check to make sure mine are even.
I can't sleep if part of me is hanging over the bed. I have to have all appendages on. Didn't you see that movie where the little boy vampire was gnawing at some lady's wrist? But she asked for it. That's what you get for hanging out, over the edge. . .
I don't like kids. I mean to say, I like my kids, but not other peoples. I never volunteer to babysit. Or swap kids for errands. Or anything. Because unless you're my really good friend, there's not a chance in heck I'm taking on extra munchkins, even if they are potty trained. And that doesn't make me a bad person. I'm just not into that. I don't even hold other people's babies. . . unless I like the mommy. . .a lot. . .
PS. I tag YOU, and YOU, and YOU, yeah YOU with the FACE!!!
