My husband knows what Scattershooting is (made obvious by a random facebook post the other day), and I don't know how since he doesn't listen to the Ticket.
I hate being spoken to when I'm picking up Trenton at school. The other parents try to make conversation and I just cringe internally... and sometimes externally. I can't help it. Mindless chitter chatter with people I don't know or care about. Nope. I guess I'm antisocial, but spare me and let me stand in silence and drift in my own thoughts.
I won a pie eating contest a couple of years ago. It was the Hardlines Pie Munch. ::Rolls Eyes:: And before you ask, yes, it was cherry pie. I ate something like 4 POUNDS of pie in 5 minutes. Oh... without my hands.
I dream of a particular ex boyfriend. Frequently. He's mostly background, like a waitor or a person standing in a random line at the very least. Sometimes I know him in my dream and sometimes I don't. But he's there somewhere 90% of the time. It's really weird.
I find myself singing different Yo Gabba Gabba songs and such... sometimes in public. It wouldn't so bad if I didn't ever so slightly dance or bob my head, too.
I hate shaving my legs and do so less and less. I don't see why I should have to. If my husband can fart and belch like he does, I should be able to have fuzzy legs. It all equals out.
If I won the lottery, the FIRST thing I would do is donate a LARGE portion to St. Jude's. The second thing would be some serious plastic surgery.
I love garage sales. That scares me. I fear I am becoming my grandmother.
For as long as I can remember, I've had nightmares about Trenton drowning. Different dreams, but being in a crowd of some sort and losing track of him then finding him underwater and blue is always the same. 2 days ago, I had my first dream of the same nature about Carter. The weird part is, I usually know that it's going to happen in the dream, but I can't stop it or wake up. It's horrible.
I love meatloaf. Love it. Most other people hate it. But I had a sorority sister, April, in college who loved it as much as I did and we'd go to the cafe and pig out on it as soon as we found out that's what they were serving... even if we'd already eaten that meal. Meatloaf still makes me think of her and smile.
I can remember a time when I wore a swimsuit every single day in public. I was a lifeguard. I had NO insecurities. I wish I'd appreciated having a 22 inch waist more than I did.
Believing in God's Plan is a daily struggle for me. The anxiety keeps me awake at night.
My car washed off the road in the wee hours of the morning once. Washed off the road and into a creek. Water was moving so fast I couldn't get out and ended up sitting on top of my floating car waiting for Wylie Search and Rescue. It was wet, cold, and scary. But not nearly as bad as my boyfriend's (who's house I'd been at) mother giving me a hot bath to treat my possibly hypothermia. Humiliating. But sweet at the same time.
I truly believe Trenton is the sweetest little boy on the planet.
I believe Carter is the reincarnation of his father.
I heard a story about a woman who was in that tsunami however many years ago. It STILL haunts me. She was in deep open water with her 2 young children and with the waves, she couldn't keep all three of them afloat. She had to decided to let one of them go or all 3 of them would drown. She had to choose between her kids. The thought makes me want to vomit. She let go of the oldest... assuming he'd probably drown. He didn't. By the mercy of God. I can't remember the details. I think he found something to hold onto until he was rescued. Can you imagine having to make that decision? Can you imagine the resentment he'd have in his teenage years and how horrific it'd be to have that thrown back in your face?
I drove a 3000GT in college. I miss it. But given the chance to have any car I've had back, I'd take the Explorer back in a hearbeat. If only gas hadn't been so dang expensive, I wouldn't have gotten rid of it.
Bitches be crazy. It's catchy because it's true. I'm far less afraid of any man than I am a sketchy woman.
I love my blog. I really do. And I love reading other people's blogs. I don't know why. It's a hobby. A nerdy hobby, but a hobby just the same.
When I was younger, I was certain that I'd meet and marry Jonathan Brandis. Seriously. I genuinely believed that.
I despise the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Some days, I just want to get in the car and drive away. No plans after leaving the driveway except getting the hell away from here.
I think DIY TV is misleading.
My favorite part of any haircut is the hair washing. In fact, I wish I had the nerve to go in and just get my hair washed and leave.
Can anyone else eat an entire "bag" of oreos in one sitting. I've done so with each pregnancy.
My husband has said publically, over and over again, that music is his first love. I find that hurtful and slightly offensive. Where does that leave me and the kids? We've never been affectionately declared so much as a neat past time. Never more is said other than I don't get him and that we have nothing in common. Then he wonders why I'm distant. I realize this isn't something he does on purpose, but still. Men are genuine idiots.
I love that Old Spice commercial with the chiseled black guy who tells you to "look at your man then back at me. Sadly, he's not me". Hilarious.
I cannot even count the number of hideous hairstyles I've had in my life, but NONE were as bad as the chop job I had in 5th/6th grade. GAWD it was TERRIBLE. Super short (above the ears short) and curly due to the icky perm I had back then. THAT is the one thing I'd go back in time and NOT do. Get that haircut. Ew.
I hate talking on the phone. I'd rather text or email any day. In fact, I rarely answer the phone. I just hate it. I don't know why. I talked on the phone constantly when I was a teenage. Had my own phone line and would sit in my closet talking to boys late at night so my parents wouldn't hear me (I had a 9pm phone curfew).
I've farted in front of a guy ONCE in my life. And that was by accident. I fell asleep and the "incident" woke me up.
Does anyone else wonder where those people who weigh 500 pounds get their clothes? I see them on TV and all I can wonder is where they shop. Do they have their clothes custom made? Is that expensive? I realize that probably isn't their biggest concern, but still, it's my very first thought. Is that weird?
Ok, I have a headache. So I'm done. I apologize for the self centered boringness of this post.