I Do Not Understand...

Disclaimer: Sorry if you disagree with my opinions. But you know what they say: opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one. (And mine is better than yours.)

Throughout our relationship, Husband has exposed me to multiple things that I’ve enjoyed. And get your mind out of the gutter, people. I’m not talking about that. No, I mean there are movies and TV shows and books and everything that I would have never really given a chance if it hadn’t been for his enthusiasm about them. A few examples: the Canadian comedy troupe, The Kids in the Hall, the British comedies Father Ted and Keeping Up Appearances, the movie Fletch (and all things Chevy Chase).

However, there are many more things that I just don’t get. I sometimes wonder if I need more testosterone and possibly, a penis, to truly find the fascination in these things. And because I don’t want this to turn into a 40-page blog, I’m only going to blog about two of Husband’s favorite movies -- Blade Runner and Platoon.

Blade Runner is one of Husband’s most favoritest movies of all time. Or I should say, Of All Time. When Ridley Scott released the Director’s Cut of this movie, we had to buy it. I’ve probably seen it at least 15 times (all in his presence). My most recent exposure was last weekend, when it was on the SciFi Channel (newly named “SyFy” which I am hating with every fiber of my being.). Watching it for the 16th time…I still don’t get what all of the hoopla is about. It’s an interesting enough story – Harrison Ford is a cop who is hunting androids (or whatever) who look like people – “replicants” – and he meets Sean Young who is a replicant who doesn’t know she’s a replicant. He falls in love with her and then runs away with her at the end of the movie (because the other cops are after her and they have to leave before she gets killed. Or they both get killed. Or whatever. I guess.) Fade to black. And story goes that when Ridley Scott made the movie, you were supposed to wonder if Harrison Ford was a replicant too, but you know what? The movie doesn’t really answer that, but there are “clues” throughout the movie (and trust me, every one of them has been pointed out to me at least 15, um, 16 times – once for every viewing) and the ending is ambiguous and I hate ambiguous endings (like the ending of The Sopranos. But I digress). And the clues are dumb little shit like the replicants in the movie have a different look to their eyes or something. Fuck you, Ridley Scott…I want my movies tied up with a pretty red bow at the end so I don’t have to spend all eternity wondering about it. Fucking tell a story that has a beginning, a middle and an end. Don’t leave me hanging. Godammit. And don’t make a movie where I am going to have to watch it 300 times in order to get all your little clues and all your mind-fucking bullshit meanings. Is it supposed to be tragic? Science fiction? Tragic science fiction? A romance? Romantic, tragic, science fiction? My brain is going to explode.

I only want to rewatch movies that are funny so I can quote the funny movie lines to my friends. Like in Happy Gilmore where Adam Sandler says to Bob Barker, “The price is wrooooong, Bitch!” Or when Chris Farley does anything in Tommy Boy. See….that shit is hilarious. They're COMEDIES. Definitely worth a rewatch. Or 100.




Another movie favorite of Husband’s is Platoon. Yes, fine, it was one of Oliver Stone’s greatest masterpieces, but it’s not a movie I want to watch repeatedly. It’s sad and horrible and gut-wrenching. My dad is a Vietnam Veteran and it makes me sad that he had to endure the jungles of Vietnam when he was a young man. I will watch it once and be blown away by the awesome greatness of the movie, but for Crissake, I don’t want to sit through 2+ hours again in agony because I’m waiting for Willem Defoe to be killed by Tom Berringer. Why don’t we just cut out the middle-man, save ourselves 2 hours, and ask Oliver Stone to just come over and poke my eyeballs out with a spoon? Or cut off my ears and wear them as a necklace around his neck? I’d be crying -- but at least I’d still have 1 hour and 55 minutes left to do other shit with.

I Dreamed a Dream...(and no, it's not about Susan Boyle)

Inspired by my blog-crush, Meditations in an Emergency, after the comments to this blog post were about nightmares, I feel like sharing more of my dreams...

A few years ago I dreamed that I cut off my right hand and then cooked it like a pot roast. Yep, you read that correctly. Disturbing, n’est pas? Even though it was a years ago, I still remember vividly the sawing off of my right hand (I’m left-handed), and while there was no pain or blood, I remember having to really saw away at it, totally just hacking it off. The dream got more strange when I decided to cook the hand. The memory of that was taking the pan out of the oven and the hand-pot roast was slightly bloated from the water/broth, and there were onions and carrots and whatever also floating around the hand. It was palm up and like a beige color. And for the record, no, I didn’t dream I ate it (now that would be really weird!), nor did I serve it to Husband or anyone else. The dream pretty much ended there. Thank goodness.

Not too long ago, I had a dream about a long-lost friend, Tim. Tim and I recently reconnected thanks to good ‘ole Facebook. Tim lives in Los Angeles and is openly gay (which I’m only stating because it’s possibly relevant to the story). In the dream, I had gone to visit Tim in LA (although I’ve never actually been there) and at one point in the dream, we’ve gone shopping. Except the shops we are visiting are similar to thrift shops or second-hand stores (or “vintage” and “antique” stores). It was a bright sunny day, and these stores were having sidewalk sales. The weird part was that everything for sale was completely disgusting, decayed or just pure shit. Like one store had baby carriages and bird cages that were broken and whatever, and another store had canned goods for sale, but the cans were severely rusted, dented and just plain nasty. I remember remarking to Tim that even homeless people wouldn’t eat those canned goods. Another point in the story, Tim and I are at a pawn-shop like place, and we’re looking at the jewelry collection. Tim and I have the same initials, so we were looking for jewelry charms or whatever with our initials. I remember seeing lots of religious paraphernalia such as bibles, crosses, etc. and everything was super-old. I specifically remember opening one of the bibles, and it was a family bible from 100 years ago or something. Despite all of the decay and age of everything in the dream, my feelings in the dream were happiness and elation, because I was enjoying spending time with Tim. At one point I kissed him, but not like a make-out sort of kiss, but it was on the cheek and I gave it to him because I missed him so much and was just excited to see him again.

A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed about my friend, Shannon. The dream happened before my karaoke birthday celebration, and that was the topic of the dream. The dream was relatively quick and I was waiting for Shannon to come pick me up so we could begin the drunken shenanigans. After she was at least an hour late, I call her on her cell. She picks up and at this point, I am LIVID. I damn near scream “WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” to which she replies that she is “getting her hair did”. I am so pissed and the veins in my neck are practically blowing out because I can’t believe she is blowing off MY BIRTHDAY to go to the hairdresser. She never once gets pissy with me, but puts on this sing-song voice, dripping with sincere sweetness and proceeds to tell me her hairdresser, Sante (don’t ask me where the name came from -- and also this is not Shannon's current hairdresser) wants to talk to me. Again, I am very close to having a massive coronary and I’m all screaming that I don’t want to talk to Sante, he needs to mind his own fucking business. Sante is a sassy, gay black man and he proceeds to get all gay-bitchy at me with a little gay-ghetto thrown in. Eventually, I’m so angry I slam the phone down (or whatever the equivalent of slamming the phone down is in a cell phone world) and the dream ends. I remember waking up and being so angry at Shannon that I could have spit nails.


Well, there you go. A little peek inside my unconscious. Now you know I’m not just crazy in my conscious world, I’m also crazy in my unconscious! I don't think I'd have it any other way, either. A little Crazy goes a long way in making life interesting...or at least I think so. ;)

The Depression Snuck Up On Me Today

(Sorry, it's a long one. But entertaining, nonetheless...)

What the hell, Life? When I woke up today, I wasn’t feeling particularly good or bad. I was just going about my morning routine like I do every other day. Shower, get ready for work, get Daughter ready, drive to work…Noticed it was a beautiful morning, here. Bright, sunny and cool – a nice 72 degrees. A perfect morning as far as I was concerned, one where I could roll the windows down during my drive and enjoy a little Howard Stern while being gently caressed by the morning.

And then I got to work and The Depression pounced on me like a kitten pounces at a laser light. For no apparent reason – or so it seemed at first. Shannon texted me about some crazy dream she had about me last night and…EUREKA! I remembered I had a dream last night that totally Bummed me out with a capital B. But before I tell you about the dream, there is a little back story:

Husband used to have this friend, whom I am going to call Homewrecker. Homewrecker was a woman who worked with him. They became friendly when I was pregnant with Daughter. Long story short, over the course of the next 5 years, Homewrecker became a certified nutjob who fell in love with Husband and whom I was suspicious of from the start. Women know women, I always tell Husband. I know when a woman says “X”, she really means “Z”. I know what lurks in the heart of women, because the same shit lurks (or has the potential to lurk) in my heart. Homewrecker even divorced her husband in the hopes that Husband would leave me and our daughter for her and her bratty kids. Now, I don’t know for sure what went on between the two, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were banging the shit out of each other. Really, I wouldn’t. Especially considering how she divorced her husband. You don’t do that shit on a whim, right? But point is, he didn’t leave us for her, nor do I even think he entertained the idea. Homewrecker couldn’t hold a candle to me. I’m prettier, my boobs are way bigger (Husband is a Boob Man) and I was 4000x smarter. Homewrecker was a bit of a dumb-dumb, and while some men may find stupidity cute, Husband does not. He’s an intellect, and likes smart people. And besides, Homewrecker was a pathological liar, who used lies to manipulate Husband into feeling bad/sorry for her. Which toward the end of their relationship, Husband started to believe (when I had been tell him she was a liar the whole time). And if you need an example: one night, I was talking on the phone with Shannon. Through the course of a 45-minute conversation, Homewrecker beeped in on my other line 19 times. I counted and kept track -- it became laughable, although was still immensely irritating. I knew it was her, thanks to caller ID. Finally, on the 19th call, I answered. I was rude as fuck to her too – I told her that I was on the other line, and knew she was trying to call, and that I’d tell Husband she called 19 times when I got off the phone. Once I was off the phone, Husband called her to find out what was so goddam important. She told him how she was in a car accident and had needed him. She lived in a city about 50 miles away from our house, but was “in the neighborhood” visiting a friend of hers and she called him because we lived so close to her. Nevermind calling your OWN husband, or even your friend that you were visiting. Noooo…she decides to call MY husband to come and rescue her. I called BULLSHIT from the second that story came out of her mouth, because I knew it was a lie. And little did she know, Shannon works for the police department for the city she supposedly got in the accident. Of course, there was no police record of her supposed accident. LIAR. Oh, and to top it off, she did tell Husband how rude I was to her. I don’t know what she thought – was Husband going to ground me for being so rude? Take her side? Um, I don’t think so. Crazy Liar, right? And that was only one small example. Trust me, there were MANY more.

Their “friendship” came to a crashing halt when I found, quite by accident, a shit-load of emails between the two of them. In Husband’s defense, he was at least smart enough to not write anything inappropriate in the emails I found – so either he was smart enough to delete the incriminating ones, or there was nothing incriminating to begin with. But the one that stung me the most, was the one where Homewrecker fantasizes about how she knows that “their” time was not then (mainly because of ME, which she mentions in her email), and how she hopes there would be the day where she and Husband could someday go house-shopping, looking for a house for them and their kids. I was floored because frankly – over my dead fucking body. It would have been a cold day in Hell before I ever would have let this woman have anything to do with my daughter. And if Husband would have left me for her – I would have been the nastiest motherfucker ever. The divorce and custody battle would have been disgusting. I usually try to be a peaceful person – but just can’t when it comes to Homewrecker. I have never hated anyone in my life with such vigor. I mean, I don’t wish her anything bad (because I do believe in karma)…I just wish she’d go away permanently.

Anyway, I know I said I was going to make this short, but seriously, 5 years worth of the ups and downs of their friendship – there’s a lot of drama to try and weed through, trust me.

Once I found those emails, I confronted Husband, and gave him the ultimatium: end his friendship with Homewrecker or there was going to be some serious Hell to pay with me. Their friendship went on as long as it had, because I had turned the other cheek. I had told him that he was a grown man, capable of picking his own friends and not having a wife who henpecks him and tells him who he can and cannot be friends with. I told him I trusted him and his judgment. I have always kept him lease-free. I believe in giving him freedom, because once he goes on a lease, resentment settles in. Plus, I didn’t want my ass on a lease either. You gotta trust each other, right?

So, he ended the friendship. I am not sure what he said to her, but he and I have been Homewrecker-free for close to the past 2 years…until last month. I found an addressed card to her on our kitchen table last month. It had a stamp on it all ready to go in the mail. No return address, but her fucking name and address in Husband’s handwriting on the envelope. I confronted Husband with the card. WTF is this? He said it was a birthday card he was going to send to her. WTF? I told him to open it and let me read it. He told me to open it myself, which of course, I did. He wrote some shit about how he hoped she had a nice birthday and how he hoped she was doing well…”and maybe someday we’ll run into each other again…” WTF? I bitched him out and made him rip it up.

Now, to the dream I had.

Last night, I dreamed Husband was back in contact with Homewrecker and had been hiding it from me. I distinctly remember feeling betrayed and heartbroken, extremely hurt and humiliated they were friendly again. I remember crying in the dream, with such intense pain in my heart; nothing Husband said was able to fix it. I felt like my whole life was destroyed and I had to divorce him immediately because the trust between us would never be able to be repaired. I was also so enraged that all I could think about was beating the living shit out of Homewrecker. I was on a mission, blinded by fury.

This morning, I texted Husband and told him – briefly – about the dream. I also had to ask him if he was in contact with her. Truth be told, I do believe he is not in contact with her, because I am somewhat of an amateur private detective, and always know how to snoop on his dumb ass without him knowing. Really. He doesn’t get away with much when I’m on the job. Of course, he responded that no, he’s not in contact with her, and that he’d tell me if he was (this last bit I find a little hard to believe, but whatever). I just wonder what the dream meant. Obviously, I’m afraid of something, right? Is it that I’m afraid of losing my family unit? Him?

But now I feel depressed. I can’t get the hurt out of my heart. Even though the hurt was something that came to me in a dream and isn’t reality, I still can’t shake it. Ever have that happen to you? I feel like I’m going to carry this with me all day.

My Birthday Blew Fat-Ass Chunks (Mostly)

Here are the things that sucked about my birthday:

Husband bought me lame gifts. For the record, it was a video game (which I never play) and some body lotion from Bath and Body Works. It wasn't even a gift set, they were two random aromatherapy scents.

The karaoke celebration I had planned, ended abruptly at 11pm when Shannon wanted to leave. She wanted to leave because there was a guy a the bar hitting on her and she didn't want him hanging around her all night. They exchanged numbers and whatever. She acted weird on the ride home and I discovered she had taken several Xanax earlier in the night which accounted for her weird behavior. Oh, and I had to pay for my own drinks because she was broke. Which, I'm sorry if I sound like a bitch -- then we should not have gone out and waited until you could pay the $15 for my drinks. I'm a lightweight, and after 3 drinks, I'm flying high, so it's not like I'm going to break the bank when it comes to footing my bar tab. And in Shannon's defense, she did give me a really kick-ass birthday present, so it's not all bad. But who goes home from the bar at 11??? I was expecting to get Shit-Faced and stroll in at 3am.

I had to work on my birthday.

I didn't get laid. Um...not that I wanted to. Just saying.


Here are the things that were relatively great when it came to my Birthday:

My mom called me and actually sang "Happy Birthday" to me on my way to work. It was cute.

I got a birthday card in the mail from Laura on my Birthday. Thanks for remembering and being a great friend, girl.

Daughter made me a birthday card. When you opened it, it said "I (heart) U Mommy". Best birthday card ever.

The aromatherapy scented lotion from Husband were the "Sleep" scent, and the "Sensual" scents. Which I realized were pretty thoughtful because he knows I love to sleep and sometimes have a hard time falling asleep/staying asleep, and well, the "Sensual" I can only guess was for him. *wink*

The video game was for "Harvey Birdman: Attorney-at-law" which was a really funny cartoon on the Cartoon Network about a very inept attorney. *insert bad lawyer joke here*

*sigh*


I also made a Birthday Resolution this year: I've decided to start lying about my age. I have a very young looking face and now is the time to capitalize on it. So from now on, I'm 32. I decided shaving 6 years off was realistic. And fuck off if you don't think so...let me have my mid-life crisis in fantasyland. It's not like I'm going to get a 25-year-old boyfriend, divorce my husband, and start driving a sports car or something? Right? Right?

On the Subject of Me...

I think this sums "me" up nicely:

I can't cook (well). I don't clean (often enough). I only have one child (and it's going to stay that way). Husband told me recently he didn't marry me for my domestic skills. Obviously.

Tomorrow is My Birthday...Thought You Should Be Forewarned

I'm a Leo, Dammit.

Hear My Mighty Roar.

My Birthday Better Kick Ass.

Raar.

Birthday Updates to Come...

Makeovers Make Me Giddy

I love makeovers. I love TV shows about makeovers. I love “What Not to Wear”, “How Do I Look?” and every other makeover show under the sun. I even love “Extreme Home Makeover”, but usually don’t watch it all that much because the fucking show makes me cry every damn time. And I cry because there are a lot of people out there who get dealt a shitty hand in life, and yet they can sometimes find something to inspire them to do great things. It just reminds me that I haven’t done anything inspirational in my own life and I feel like such a failure. (Because, as you should understand, ultimately, I can find a way to make everything about me. Even home makeover shows.)

But as I was saying…I love me a good makeover program. I was thinking that someone should start up a Life Makeover show or something. The contestant would be given a choice of new lives – something similar to The Showcase Showdown on Price is Right. It reminds me of that guy in Australia who auctioned his “life” away on eBay a while back. He was recently divorced and, I’m guessing, wanted a fresh start. So his auction consisted of his apartment, all of his worldly possessions, his friends, and even his job (if you “won” the auction, you got to interview for it or something like that.) He ended up getting like $100k or something for it – and although he was hoping for more money, he ended up going on a trip around the world or whatever. I remember seeing his website. Click here if you’re curious to see what he did after he sold his life.

I’m thinking that my life makeover show could be something similar to this. You could get a chance to move somewhere new, have a job waiting for you, and some new friends to help you get acclimated. I know it would get complicated if you had kids, or were married, or both. Ooooo…this also reminds me of the idea I had where marriage licenses should have expiration dates. Like every 10 years, it expires and you have the option to renew it if you’d like – and if not, you both just move on. No divorces anymore just expired marriages. It certainly would make things easier, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I know there are a lot of complicated issues sometimes in marriages, such as child custody, alimony, property division, etc. (the lawyer in me is taking over here) but there could be a document included in your marriage license that would already settle this issue. (In case you’re wondering if I would have renewed my marriage license at the 10-year mark – yes, I would have renewed it. But I am not sure I’d renew it at the 20-year mark. This year makes 14 years I’ve been married, and I have to admit, the last 3 or 4 have been a bit of a struggle. Hopefully, it’s just cyclical and shit will smooth out eventually. I’m a patient person and willing to find out.)

I digress.

Maybe part of the life makeovers would include trading your life with someone famous or rich. It certainly would help in making the world a more understanding place if a rich person or people of privilege had to take a stint as a homeless person or if they had to live in the ghetto for a while (neither of which I’ve done, but I did spend a good chunk of my early years living in a trailer, which I think keeps me grounded).

Too bad we can’t just plug our brains into a computer (like in The Matrix) and download shit to make us have skills we don’t possess, or know things we don’t know yet. Like learning a foreign language or understanding physics. That way, we could take turns being surgeons, teachers, the Queen of England, Angelina Jolie, or a German biologist. The possibilities are endless.

Is this just crazy talk, or am I on to a good idea? Impossible, yes…I understand. But still a good idea.

And I still think the expiration date on marriage licenses is GENIUS.

Daughter Can Be Freakin' Hilarious

This past weekend, I took Daughter and visited my parents cottage "up north". Daughter and I usually sleep together and so when we woke up on Sunday morning, we were just chatting as we were waking up. Since it was a bit humid the night before, I wondered if she was stinky. And in case you didn't know, little kids' armpits get stinky even though they haven't reached puberty. I had no idea this was the truth until I had my own child. Of course, they don't smell like adults and need deodorant, but if you get up close, they're rank little creatures too. So Sunday morning, I was teasing her and I asked her if her pits smelled. Her arms were above her head already, so she turned her head to put her nose in position, took a whiff, looked me straight in the eye, and with a deadpan expression said:

"No. They smell like flowers."

I nearly rolled out of the bed. The words were not as funny as the deadpan expression on her face, but the combination was priceless. Ahhh, young jedi, you are learning the ways of sarcasm well....

10 Reasons Why I Hate You

Last night, Husband ate some pretzels after dinner and he didn't replace the Chip Clip. Who knew his serious infraction would lead to this blog post...That transgression lead to 10 reasons why Husband gets on my every last nerve. ("Hate" was really a strong word, but I thought it made a cute title to this post.)

1. He never puts the Chip Clip back on the chips (or pretzels, Doritos, etc.) so the shit goes stale if I’m not there to replace the Chip Clip. This is also true of replacing the twist-tie on bread, buns, etc.

2. When he’s out of toilet paper in his bathroom, he just goes down the hall and steals my roll of toilet paper out of my bathroom. I can’t tell you how many times I’m left sans toilet paper when I need it (because I think it’s there because it’s MY bathroom so I know the inventory).

3. If he needs cash, he just takes it out of my wallet and “forgets” to tell me about it. I would not mind this if he “remembered” to tell me. It’s only irritating when I need the cash, think it’s in my wallet and then go to try to spend it. Again, it’s MY wallet and I know the inventory. I have resorted to hiding cash in a different spot in my wallet and/or just not carrying cash anymore.

4. He refuses to have pizza delivered to our house, and insists on picking it up. Except I’m always the person who has to go pick it up.

5. When he empties the dishwasher and reloads it, he only takes out enough clean stuff to make room for the dirty stuff and then runs the dishwasher again. And he never empties the silverware. Ever. Irritating because it’s not only a waste of hot water and dishsoap, it’s also immensely lazy. If you’re gonna empty it, EMPTY it. Oh, and I’d rather he didn’t empty it, because if he can’t find a spot for something, he just makes one. I have faux-tupperware in every cupboard in my house. Which means I can never find the right one for the right job, and if I'm lucky enough to find a container, I can't find the goddam lid because it's never in the lid cupboard. (Look, you just got a two-fer on that one)

6. Whenever we go out to eat, he gets irritated if I want to order the same thing he does OR if I don’t want to order what he “suggests”. This once lead to an argument over breakfast where he got so mad he walked out of the restaurant. He got mad because I basically told him I was going to order whatever the fuck I wanted. (In case you’re wondering, I ordered a banana-pecan-something-or-other and he hates bananas. He wanted me to order the apple-cinnamon-something-or-other probably so he could eat it too, since I rarely ever eat everything. But I fucking love banana-pecan-whatever, so seriously, go fuck yourself.)

7. To expand on #6 above, he actually gets irritated if I don’t take his “suggestions” as the Word of God and do whatever he suggests. I find this irritating, because, as I’ve told him, I am a grown-ass-woman and am quite capable of making my own decisions. And before you get all riled up about how marriage is a partnership and blah, blah, blah -- these decisions usually pertain to things personal to me. Not things that should involve a decision made together. I mean, you have the food example above, you should understand what I mean.

8. If he wakes up before me on the weekends and runs an errand and takes daughter, he never does her hair or puts her in matching clothes. So she always looks like a crazy banshee with hair in her face and like a homeless child with mismatched or too-small clothes. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I'm sure this is part of the control freak problem I have, that I mentioned yesterday.

9. He always talks about us getting into shape, slimming down, and working out, yet he buys junk food. As an example, this past weekend we went to Kroger and he wanted ice cream, ice cream toppings (caramel and apple cinnamon), chips, and donuts. WTF? I usually don’t buy this type of shit because if it’s not in the house, it’s much easier not to eat it.

10. He keeps all of our over-the-counter medications in a cupboard in the kitchen instead of in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom like normal people. I gave up this fight long ago, when we were first married and just accepted it. But I still find it irritating. He does this because his parents have a cupboard in their kitchen with all of their OTC shit. Cold meds? Thermometer? Ibuprofen? Cough drops? All in the cupboard above the dishwasher. It makes me crazy.

Now…I’m sure he’s got a similar list about me, so don’t go thinking I have this crazy notion that I’m perfect. Because I do. Here’s my idea of what his list must look like:

1. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
2. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
3. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
4. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
5. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
6. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
7. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
8. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
9. She won’t have sex with me everyday.
10. She never does what I say (like have sex with me everyday).

Ha Ha. I crack myself up. I’d love to know what irritates you about your significant other…

I Think I Can, I Think I Can't...

I am in middle of writer's block. That combined with the fact that nothing has made me laugh hysterically, cry hysterically, or fly into a blinding rage lately, so I'm going to plagiarize. Well, not really, since I'm quoting the source (or one of many), so technically, it's not plagiarism if you're calling yourself out on it. I just can't think of anything wildly brilliant and original to write about right now. So here's my version of these posts done by Kim at Perfectly Cursed Life and LiLu at Live It, Love It:

I can…

…try to be a positive role model to my daughter and let her know that being smart is important (more than being beautiful – although, if I do say so myself, she’s gorgeous!) and that eating a healthy diet is more important that whatever the scale says.
…make some mean imitation White Castle burgers. They taste EXACTLY the same!
…enjoy toilet humor immensely. Actually, I prefer it over all other forms of jokes!


I can’t…

…burp the alphabet. Although I really haven’t tried.
…protect my child from all of the evil in the world, but dammit, I’m gonna try.
…dance worth a shit. I was born with no grace and am very clumsy.


I will…

… eventually find a career that makes me happy to go to work. I’m still searching for it.
…learn a foreign language someday. Those Rosetta Stone commercials are calling my name!
…see London and Paris someday.


I won’t…

…eat seafood. The thought of it makes me want to vomit.
…cancel HBO even when “True Blood” is in its off-season.
…stop asking “Why?”


I should…

…be more open-minded and spontaneous sometimes and not be such a rigid control freak. (In my defense, when I can’t plan things out to the letter, I tend to get severely uncomfortable.)
…learn to be more forgiving when I feel like someone has committed a major wrong to me.
…try to exercise more and eat healthier.


I shouldn’t…

…take things for granted as much as I do. I was reminded of this thanks to Nickleback’s “If Today Was Your Last Day” this weekend. (Lame, I know.)

…beat myself up over my personal failures.
…be working on this blog post at work, but it seems that is the only place where I have time to write. Irony! (So, technically, I AM getting paid to blog!) Shhhhh!