Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Dating Persona Test

Pulled the Dating Persona Test from Kelly and here are my results. I'd like to think this is a good thing?

The Maid of Honor
Deliberate Gentle Love Master (DGLM)

Appreciated for your kindness and envied for all your experience, you are The Maid of Honor.

Charismatic, affectionate, and terrific in relationships, you are what many guys would call a "perfect catch"--and you probably have many admirers, each wishing to capture your long-term love. You're careful, extra careful, because the last thing you want is to hurt anyone. Especially some poor boy whose only crime was liking you.
We've deduced you're fully capable of a dirty fling, but you do feel that post-coital attachment after hooking up. So, conscientious person that you are, you do your best to reserve physical affection for those you respect...so you can respect yourself.
Your biggest negative is the byproduct of your careful nature: indecision. You're just as slow rejecting someone as you are accepting them.

Your exact female opposite:
Random Brutal Sex Dreamer

Always avoid: The False Messiah (DBLM), The 5-Night Stand (DBSM), The Vapor Trail (RBLM), The Bachelor (DGSM)
Consider: The Gentleman (DGLM), someone just like you.

Take the quiz!

Moody Mania

Thanks for the kind words from everyone yesterday. I am feeling a bit better today, though I'm sure the frustration will come around again soon. It always does.

About mid-day yesterday, I thought I'd become my own therapist and do a little searching online. Yep, I’m one of those self-help girls. If I have a headache, I usually know why and what I need to do to relieve myself from it. (Caffeine, water, sex, etc.) If I don’t know the answer to a problem I’m having, I research it until I do have an answer. When I’m in one of those crying moods I can usually tell why. But lately, they’ve been bad and there's no pattern. Is it because I’m getting older? Is it just situational? Am I crazy?

So, I've been digging online off and on all day. The little blurb on the Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus website caught my eye. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen this and thought it was interesting. Maybe there are fellow female bloggers out there that need to see this too.

A blurb from the article:

Feeling Moody? Who's to Blame?

She's up, she's down... she's all around. Ever wonder why it is that a woman can be laughing and happy one minute and crying and sad the next. How in the world is a guy supposed to know which way is up when it comes women's moods?

And, what is it that causes this dramatic shift in emotions? Is it his fault? Is it her fault? Did he say too much or not enough? Is she just too sensitive?

Well, here's what's up (and down). A woman is like a wave. Her self-esteem rises and falls in a wave-like motion. When she is feeling really good she will reach a peak, but then suddenly her mood may change, and her wave crashes down. This crash is temporary. After she reaches bottom suddenly her mood will shift and she will again feel good about herself. Automatically her wave begins to rise back up.

Now, I don't know about how other women feel about this, but I'm exhausted by it. I didn't have these "waves" until my mid-twenties. I think my environment and the situation I'm in (being far away from loved ones) is a huge factor. I'm just tired. Did I already say that? ;p I should be settled and content, not still soul searching and wondering what's ahead of me and where I'll end up.

Anyway, going to wrap this up because I have more uplifting posts to work on. I promise another date from hell story is in the works!

Monday, August 27, 2007

No Subject

Do you ever have those days when you just get tired of trying? Trying to make things work, trying to make people happy, try to be pleasing to get what you need and nothing happens? What happened to the days when people cared about you felt? Sometimes I wonder if I just stopped trying, if anyone would really notice.

Okay. Not nearly enough said to clear my brain, but I know how it is to read a post that is too personal. I'm just frustrated and (obviously) have no other outlet.

Back to reality - people that wear curlers to the store. Is this really necessary? Are you so lazy that you can't yank the curlers out of your hair before you leave your house? And why do you suddenly need to go to the store after you put your hair in these curlers? Can't it wait until your hair is done?

People that talk about religion/politics/other inappropriate subjects when you first meet them. Do you not have anything else to speak of? Are you trying to make yourself look like an uppity jackass?

People that super size their meal deal and get a diet coke with it. I don't think I really have to say anything about this one.

Maybe my mood will lighten up by tomorrow. (Don't get your hopes up though.)

Peace out.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Thursday Thirteen

13 of My Favorite Songs

1. Crash - Dave Matthews Band
2. Stay - 12 Stones
3. By Your Side – Sade
4. Dress You Up – Madonna
5. Blue Dress – Depeche Mode (that one’s for you Babers.)
6. Take On Me – A-ha
7. Let Go – Frou Frou
8. Love Bites – Def Leppard
9. Black – Pearl Jam
10. Hysteria – Def Leppard
11. Your Love - The Outfield
12. Silence - Delirium
13. Sara McLaughlin – Possession

Each one either has a special memory or person tied to it.
Pearl Jam's Black reminds me of my Daddy. When I had my black Camaro senior year in high school, I put a 10 inch speaker in the trunk. That song sounded so good in my car, like you were at a Pearl Jam concert if you closed your eyes. When I'd pull in from a friend's house in the evenings my father would meet me in the driveway, hop in the car with me and tell me to start the song over. He loves the part of the song that goes "I'm spinning, wooaahh I'm spinning" and would sing it real dramatic like to make me laugh.

The songs Take On Me and Dress You Up remind me of a time in my life just a couple years ago when I was single and frequented one of the local bars when The Molly Ringwalds (an 80's cover band) performed. They were so loud and fun and sucked you into every song. It was a time when I really enjoyed my friendships. The girls and I would dress up in heels, put on our lipstick and jam out, dancing like idiots to those songs. We were the best singers in the bar, especially after a few drinks. I felt so care free and irresponsible, and I loved it. Good times.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Dreams that make you go hmm

Does anyone have a dream interpretation book? ‘Cuz I’m in need of one.

For the past 6 months or longer I’ve been having these terrible dreams about J and I. (I’m sure he’s going to love this post.) The dreams are usually of him being mean to me, cheating on me, leaving me stranded in foreign places, or something of the like. I wake up from these dreams feeling angry or anxious, and I usually feel the need to tell him about them. He recently expressed how hearing about the dreams made him feel, and I don’t blame him. Took a minute to understand, but if the tables were turned I’d feel bad too.

I want to purchase a dream interpretation book, but I honestly don’t believe I’ll get any answers. I imagine a dream book is along the lines of a book on the zodiac: good for entertainment purposes but nothing to really go by.

I’ve also thought about going to a psychic. I know, I know, sounds kooky, right? A friend of my mother’s (now deceased) that I was also close with went to a psychic for fun. She came back and told my mother that my little sister would have another life to care for in the very near future. Three months later my sister turned up pregnant. The psychic also warned my mother’s friend about her health and struggled to tell her about death. Our friend died a year later from health issues. I also have a friend that went to a psychic who told her that her boyfriend wasn’t for her and they ended up breaking up a few months later. Now, while I know that can happen anyway to anyone, that’s the reason why I don’t want to go…

It’s not like there’s a psychic on every corner in the city where I live, and it’s highly unlikely I’d seek one out. But, what if? What if the psychic told me what my dreams meant and they weren’t exactly the interpretation I’d want to hear? Or worse, what if the psychic told me of my future and J wasn’t in it?

I don’t want to know my future. The fun of life is the mystery of not knowing.

So anyway, those are just some things that have been on my mind lately. You guys are my therapy sometimes, be it an I-hate-shopping tantrum or I-have-screwed-up-dreams admission, you lend an ear (or an eye) and it helps that I don't have to pay. ;p

That’s it for now. Thanks for listening (reading).

By the way, do the word verifications on blogger seem to be getting really hard to decipher lately? Doesn’t it seem sometimes that they really don’t want you to post your comment?

Monday, August 20, 2007

Random Thoughts

Just want to share some random things that have been on my mind:

I found my first gray – correction, WHITE hair this weekend. I saw it, freaked and yanked it out. Then I remembered the old tale about how if you pull one gray hair, more grow back in its place. So I guess if I’m fully white headed by the time I’m 30 it’ll be my fault. ____________________________________________________________

I had to go shopping this weekend. Again. It’s been years since I’ve updated my wardrobe and frankly I’m tired of wearing the same pair of jeans.

While I was shopping with my sister and her six year old little boy, I was all too aware of the reasons I hate shopping, as posted earlier. However, this time I was a bit embarrassed when I realized I was shopping with someone who I would normally scowl at if I came across in the store.

At home my mother offers to watch my nephew, but he throws a tantrum wanting to go. “You never spend time with me!” he whines. (He’s getting smart.) He ends up getting his way.

The entire walk through the mall we hear “I’m hungry, I want a snack,” and “I’m thirsty, Mama I want a drink!” and “I’m tired of this place, let’s go.” If it’s not that, he’s touching everything and I can see the store clerks cringe when he pulls something off the shelves. I cower in corners when my sister has to correct my nephew because he’s one of those kids that scream bloody murder when he gets popped (not nearly hard enough) on the butt.

“Straighten up or no tv tonight.” My sister hisses in his ear after he knocked over a rack of hats.

“You huuurrtt me, you always hurt me so bad Mama!!” He screams loudly. I act like I don’t know them. (Like I said, he’s getting smart. I’m waiting for him to yell ‘Child Abuse!!’ the next time she pops his butt in public.)____________________________________________________________

I had a dream last night that Jason and I robbed a bank in Mexico with my neighbors. The girls kept getting split up from the boys and at one point Jason got on the get-away jet without me. In the dream, my neighbor and I threw rocks at the jet our boyfriends left us in and then laughed when we realized we had the backpacks full of money. The police ended up stopping us while running along this canal and told us to give them the backpacks. I talked them into letting me “get a few things out first”, grabbed the money, my chapstick and an inhaler (I don't have asthma), dropped the backpack and ran. I’m still mad at Jason for leaving me.

I’ve had house fever for the last year or so and right now it’s so bad I can barely stand it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my apartment. I call the office when something breaks and I don’t have to mow the grass. But lately I feel like my quality of life is less than it should be.

I’m a country girl who moved out to the city to start her career and just learn about herself. My family and friends live where I grew up and I miss everything about my hometown.

The people are just better where I grew up. In the last few years I’ve noticed that the people I’ve had short friendships with here in the city are just a different breed of people: controlling, selfish and needy. I miss my sincere, fun loving, light hearted people who would do anything for you and not expect anything in return. People you want to be with. People that are full of fun and will knock back a beer with you while watching Family Guy.

Life is peaceful out there too. The river and beach is just five minutes away. And of course, my family is there and I feel like I’m missing out on such an important time with my niece and my nephew growing up.

My plan is to let my lease run out and maybe rent month to month until I find a little house back home. The more I think about it, the lighter and happier I feel.

Central here I come!

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

My 2nd Date from Hell

Sorry about the lack of posts lately. I haven’t felt very bloggy. Plus, I’ve recently replaced my evening couch sessions with a little more movement. With a much awaited and needed vacation only 3 weeks away I’m starting to feel like maybe I should try jumping on the mini trampoline a little more and walking instead of watching the Food Network so much.

Now that I’ve explained my lack of posting (like you care) I can carry on with the purpose of this post. Get ready for the 2nd installment of MY DATES FROM HELL. You may need a few beers for this one.

My Date from Hell – Tim McGraw look-alike

One night my old roomie and I went out to a cheesy nightclub with very cheesy music and even cheesier old men dancing like they were on the Studio 54 dance floor. We knew it would be a night of defense and standing in ridiculous lines just to get a cheaper beer, but we were tired of the same old scene.

During the night, while trying to refuse a drink offer and repeatedly failing to get the point across, I noticed a guy blatantly laughing at me and my predicament. My roomie wasn’t able to help much seeing as Drink Guy had enough alcohol in him to open his own bar. I was starting to get annoyed. Suddenly the Laughing Guy walks up and rescues me.

“Here you go, Hun” he says, handing me a beer. I look at him, amazed as I take the beer from him. Laughing Guy turns his stare to Drink Guy, who in his alcoholic stupor stumbles away.

“Thanks,” I say, laughing, realizing I had just witnessed the oldest trick in the book.
“Not a problem. You looked miserable,” he replies, and reaches out for the beer in my hand. “Sorry, I’m gonna need that back. Just stood in line 20 minutes for that.”

Then the conversation goes dead and I raise my eyebrows, tell him thanks again and walk off. The night goes on. Roomie and I have entirely too much to drink and decide to call it a night. On our way out Laughing Guy ends up in stride along side me. Doesn’t say anything, just walks beside me. My roomie looks over past me and at him, then back at me, and snickers, walking off faster to the car we probably shouldn’t be driving. I look over at him and my mouth drops a little. I stop. He stops.

“You look like Tim McGraw,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.
“You got anything better than that?” He asks and I’m stunned.
“What? No, it wasn’t a pick up… YOU are following ME,” I say. He smiles.

To make a long story short, Tim McGraw ends up with my number. On our first date a week later, I meet him at a local bar. We arrive at the same time and take a tall table in the corner. I order a beer and he immediately orders two shots for us. I hesitate, but knock it back anyway. Take the edge off. Then the sirens go off – he orders two more shots not even 10 minutes later. I pass on the second, take my share of the third round and pass on the fourth. He ends up downing the shots I refuse, and I ask him how he’s going to drive himself home. He gives me this creepy smile and I’m immediately put into defense mode. Thirty minutes into our first date and we have our first argument. I finally convince him I don’t let boys stay over because it’s against my religion. When he says he doesn’t believe me I tell him he’s Satan, so its understandable.

Eventually he stops drinking and I walk – correction - drag him to his truck to call a buddy to pick him up. Twice I have to yank his hand off my ass. It’s after the call to his frind that he does the most horrible, embarrassing thing a man can ever do to me: he sings to me. Not like the kind of singing where you’re being funny holding a fake microphone sing. I mean for real sing. We’re in the parking lot and he has selected a country cd and the song that “better enhances his singing talent.” You must be kidding me.

And then he grabs me, a la Dancing with the Stars style and starts dancing with me. I’m frantically looking around the well lit parking lot, waiting for someone to come out with the cameras. A car screeches to a halt just feet from us as we are dancing in the empty parking spot its trying to park in. The driver honks, Tim McGraw flips the bird WHILE HE’S STILL SINGING and twirls me, right in front of this car. The car ends up backing out and leaving, but Mr. McGraw keeps on dancing. And I can’t get out of his grasp. I protest several times and try to wiggle out, and the more I do, the louder he sings. I’m almost in tears at this point. Not because I think he’s crazy and going to hurt me, but because I’m so embarrassed I could crawl into a hole and DIE.

When his friend finally shows up, I’m sitting on the parking curb with my head between my legs. Unfortunately for Tim McGraw, he was doing the same for a different reason a few spots down from me. He’s still singing. The friend rolls the window down and yells “Get in!!” and speeds off with my country singer. I sit on the curb, alone in the vacant parking lot at 2:30 in the morning exhausted and astonished. No thanks for babysitting my friend, no thanks for sitting with me for over an hour, nothing. Still, I’m relived that I never have to see him again and get into my car and drive home.

When I get home, I have 3 missed calls on my cell. All three of them are voicemails of Tim McGraw, singing…

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Thursday Thirteen

I'm lazy and am working with a stolen wireless connection here, so I'm skipping the pretty header and all that usually goes with this post.

13 Reasons Why I HATE Shopping

1. When I have money, I can’t find anything. When I’m broke, everything fits perfectly.

2. Parking - and I must add, what irritates me is those people who just make up parking spots in the middle of the aisles and cause jams. My favorite is when you finally get around them, you can look into their window and see them balancing their checkbook.

3. Smelly, dirty dressing rooms. Especially the floors. I never take my shoes off in them.

4. False advertising. You know that pair of slacks was on the 50% off rack but nooo ma’am, these are the only exception to the sale. Sorry.

5. People who let their kids run butt ass wild in the stores. Kids racing down the aisles. Kids jumping out of those circle clothes racks. Kids who are too young to take shopping period screaming bloody murder because “THEY WANNA GO HOOOMMMEE”. Take a hint people.

6. People. No, that’s it. Just people. I hate ‘em.

7. You ask the pimple faced clerk if he ran the decoder thingie across your barcode so the alarm at the door won’t embarrass you and you believe him when he mutters yes. Then you walk through the door and beeeeeeeeppp!!!

8. Running into people you know… when you’re trying to pick out underwear.

9. Standing in line, especially when you end up behind a woman with her 12 children who are climbing all over your buggy while she’s writing a check because she’s from the dinosaur age.

10. “Dancing” with the other person walking up to the store doors as the same time as you are. You speed up, they speed up. You slow down. So. Do. They. You end up having to fake politeness by opening the door for them or saying thank you when they open it for you. Or worse. Having to kick them when they don’t.

11. Clerks that hate their job and life. Not a single word during the 5 minute check out procedure. This may seem to be a total contradiction seeing as I hate people and all, but someone who is checking your floss, underwear and deodorant one foot apart from you should at least say hi.

12. People who don’t move aside in the aisle to let you pass. This also goes for people who try to pass and do not say “Excuse me”. Like that’s so damn hard to do.

13. And last but certainly not least – People who decide to stop and talk to a friend they’ve come across in the store IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MAIN AISLE. It’s clear that you’re in the way when people are sucking in to squeeze past you or abandoning their buggies to walk past you for an item, so move it! I want to speed up my buggy and ram their asses.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

My Dates from HELL

Over the past year and a half I’ve entertained my boyfriend with tales of past dates gone terribly wrong. Before that I humored friends and even sometimes family with the nightmares. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I should document them.

So, you are my guinea pigs. My plan is to post a new date horror every week, but with my commitment-phobia and procrastination issues, I’m not sure if I’ll be consistent. Plus, though I do have my fair share of hellish date stories, we all know they can’t go on forever. I hope you find them entertaining!

Hellish Date #1 – Mr. Harry NoManners

Go ahead and get some popcorn so you can settle in. It’s gonna be a long one…

Due to the fact that some of my friends read my blog, I shall call my first victim Harry NoManners. Harry because there wasn’t an inch of body that didn’t have hair on it – of course other than the parts I DID NOT SEE because I am not a SLUTWHORE. And NoManners I think speaks for itself.

I knew Harry back in high school and ran into him a couple years ago. He asked me on a date and I thought, What the hell.

Harry took me to a nice restaurant with about an hour wait. We settled into the bar, and after ordering a lemon drop martini for me and a bottle of wine for him, he closed the tab. Strike #1.

Now, before you go judging me, let me tell you that he was all too eager to tell me the reason why he closed the tab out. “Because those martinis are pricy,” even though he turned his nose up at my first choice of beer. And the reason for the entire bottle of wine? It was less expensive by the bottle and he planned on bringing the bottle to the table with us.

Less than an hour later we are seated at a table and checking out the goods on the menu. I have decided to brush off the bar scene and try to enjoy the date. Harry looks up from his menu and says “This looks good: Grilled Pork with Beef Steak Tomatoes” and I frown. I tell him I don’t like tomatoes and say that the Caesar salad looks good, I think I’ll get that. He then says “Let’s share the Grilled Pork and Beef Steak Tomato plate,” to which I reply “I’d rather not, I don’t like tomatoes.” (Are you counting? Second time in 1 minute that I’ve told him this. Strike #2. Not listening.)

The waiter comes up to the table and asks for our order. Harry says we’re good on drinks and would like to share the Grilled Pork Dish with the Beef Steak Tomatoes.


The waiter looks at him like Oh I bet you’re a good tipper! and I’m feeling his pain. This is a nice restaurant. If you want to share a dish, go to Chili’s or Applebee’s and split the towering nachos for crying out loud.

The waiter looks at me and I say “If my date doesn’t mind, I’d like the chicken Caesar, seeing as I don’t like tomatoes,” and I hand him my menu. When the waiter walks away seemingly pleased that his entire table isn’t filled with cheap asses, my date says “I didn’t know you don’t like tomatoes.”

For some reason I accept other meetings with this man, and on the 3rd occasion I tell him to come to my apartment where my roommate can be an attendee on what is sure to be an entertaining night. Our topics of conversations land all over the map. During a small silence, my roomie asks what I plan to give my mother for her birthday. Before I can answer, Harry speaks up:

Harry: “I always give my mother jewelry.”
Roomie and I: “Awww. That’s so sweet.”
Clearly we are fools.
Harry: “Yeah well I figure, if I give my mother jewelry on birthdays, Christmas, and Mother’s Days, I’ll eventually inherit the stuff I give her. I think of it as an investment.”

I’m not kidding. And it doesn’t get any better….

The last “date” was the icing on the cake. I had already decided that I would have the talk with him, you know, the whole we’re-better-off-as-friends spill. He says he wants to cook dinner for me at his place. I give him a courtesy call on the way to see if he needs me to pick anything up. I’m walking down the wine aisle thinking I’ll pick up a merlot when he replies “Um, yeah actually I could. Can you pick up some boneless skinless chicken?” I come to a dead stop mid-aisle. Who invites someone over to cook them dinner and asks them to bring the main ingredient? I know I asked but COME ON.

I’m back on the road and going by his directions. By the time I get into his area of town – a 35 minute drive – it’s dark. I turn down the road he lives on, which is a creepy, twisty gravel road. 45 minutes later I turn into his drive.

Harry opens the door in a pair of cut off sweats and his work t-shirt. This is the same friggin blue t-shirt I’ve seen him in 5 out of the 6 times we’ve hung out together. He seems frazzled as he opens the door and I wonder if it’s over the dinner he’s preparing.

I enter the kitchen with the wine and chicken and immediately ask for a bottle opener. As he’s looking for it I take a quick scan of the kitchen. There are no pots or pans, or any sign of dinner. Maybe he was waiting on the chicken?

He takes the bottle opener and pours himself a glass of wine and walks off. Shaking my head, I reach over and pour myself a glass. Then he turns to me, standing before his pantry and says “What do you want for dinner?”

At this point I’m so over it I really wouldn’t feel bad walking out the house (and bringing the wine with me). I shrug and say “I thought you had dinner planned?”

Now, I’m one of the most laid back girls you can date. Take me for a beer and pizza to watch the game – I may not understand the game, but I won’t complain. I’ll cook for you, come on over! I don’t need Mr. Manners, but I do need a please and thank you, and some general etiquette.

Numero uno would be – If you ask me over to dinner, have it planned out. I don’t care if its hot dogs on the grill, have a freaking plan.

Thirty minutes later we’re eating generic boxed mac & cheese and burned chicken breasts. After dinner he wants to watch a movie. As he’s putting in the surprise, I’m wording my “friends” speech in my head. I look up and to my surprise he’s walking over to the couch smiling, apparently pretty pleased with himself as the Stars Wars opening song plays loudly through his surround sound.

Needless to say I got a headache a third of the way through the movie and broke it off with him over the phone the next day.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Ten Ways to Know its Time to Go

I was browsing today on Yahoo when I came across this article, "Ten Ways to Know its Time to Go". I was amazed at how many of these I felt before quitting my "career" in association management. Read on and see if its time for YOU to quit.

Ten Ways to Know its Time to Go

1. You start to dread Monday as soon as you leave work on Friday.

2. It becomes more and more difficult to get up for work each day, and tardiness becomes a way of life.

3. You cannot muster enthusiasm for anything related to work -- other than your paycheck.

4. You spend most of your time complaining to colleagues or about your colleagues.

5. You act defensive and even hostile in company meetings when there's little cause for it.

6. You interact less and less with co-workers, shutting yourself away in your office and avoiding opportunities to socialize.

7. You've used up all your sick, personal, and vacation days -- and the year isn't even half over.

8. You're constantly putting off until tomorrow what you could (and should) do today. When you do actually commit to doing your work, you feel resentful.

9. You're bitter about the company's success or that of a co-worker.

10. You have no professional goals related to your job, and you have a hard time even making some up at your obligatory performance review.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007


This kind of stuff is what has me addicted to blogging…

So I’ve seen HNT (Half Naked Thursdays) on other people’s blogs before but recently came across Dan’s HNT last week and thought – hey, this can be quirky and fun, it doesn’t have to be sleazy pics of half naked breasts and buttocks (yes, I used the word buttocks).

And here’s my very first HNT. It’s kind of a double half-naked photo: my feet are naked and if you look closely, so are my a couple of my toenails. Hee hee.

If you haven’t jumped on the HNT train yet, please join me. Come on, everyone is doing it. First time’s for free.

Thursday Thirteen

13 Weird Things About Me

1. Soap must only be in the soap dish – NO WHERE ELSE. I get completely ooged out if I’m in the shower and the soap drops into the tub. Babers and I were, um, conserving water in the shower one evening somewhat early into our relationship and he let the soap drop onto the tub floor. He got an earful and I’m sure to this day still thinks I’m a nut job.

2. I have to say “I love you” to my loved ones before getting off the phone, even if I talk to them 5 times a day. Same goes with telling them goodbye in person – there must be an “I love you” said once or twice before I get in the car.

3. I use chapstick. Obsessively.

4. All closets, behind my shower curtain, and under my bed must be checked for burgulars hiding before I get into the bed. As I’ve said before, I’m not sure what I’d do if I actually found one, but knowing my apartment is free of them helps me sleep better.

5. A night light is a must. If I turn off my lamp before settling in bed and the room gets darker than usual, I frantically switch my lamp back on and replace the night light. (I do this often, usually because when Babers is home on the weekends he takes the night light out and I forget about it on Mondays.)

6. No matter how hard I work out, no matter how many weights I lift or hours I walk, I refuse to do ab work. I like my curves and soft tummy.

7. Another shower issue – after showering, the shower curtain must be pulled all the way to the wall, concealing the inside of the shower. I have to get on Jason’s butt about this sometimes too. ;)

8. I used to have issues with people touching my bottom. When a boyfriend would put his hand in my back pocket or if my sister popped me on the rear (which she would do purposely because she knew I had an issue) I would get really uncomfortable and squirm. Not really sure what’s behind that, but I’m getting better about it.

9. When plating my dinner, I do it in a way that will be aesthetically pleasing. I may turn my plate around several times before digging in if it doesn’t feel right.

10. If I’m singing to one of my favorite songs on cd and I accidentally sing the wrong verse, I feel compelled to start the track over and “make it right”, and I usually do.

11. I prefer to be on the left of people. Whether I am walking down the mall with someone, standing at a counter, sitting on the floor, sleeping in a bed, etc., I feel weird if I’m not on the left of them. And ask anyone – I’ll walk to the other side if I happen to somehow end up on the right side of you.

12. When my toenail polish chips off in places, I just touch up or paint over the chipped off spots. Wait. That might fall under the “lazy” instead of the “weird”.

13. Ok, ONE last shower thing – besides the Jacuzzi tub bubble incident earlier this summer, I have not had a bath in over 8 years. Showers only.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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