You probably don’t know about me.
{and quite possibly, don’t want to}
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I think sweaty feet smell like buttered popcorn {which, needless to say, I don’t care for}, and belly-button “jam”, like parmesan cheese {which, disturbingly enough, I do enjoy}.
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I really want a tattoo. I’m just far too chicken to go through with it, which is odd considering…
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My super-woman ability to push a 10.5 pound baby out of my…um, body, naturally…and still needles make my stomach flutter and my knees weak.
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I don’t believe people should rise before the sun does {yes, I realize the world as we know it would cease to function}. I loathe getting up early and, my husband will attest to this, will miraculously come up with very convincing reasons as to why I should remain snuggled under my warm covers and not emerge {don’t judge}.
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If I could redo my wedding, the only thing I would change would be the color scheme. Periwinkle blue in October…? What was I smoking?
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One time in 9th grade, before all this, I accidentally stole a backpack from Target. As soon as I realized I had walked out with it on my back, I walked back in and returned it.
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When people crack their knuckles in front of me, it makes me want to dry heave.
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Despite my ability to speak easily to inanimate objects, to hold down {relatively intelligent} conversations with most anyone and in spite of my love for speaking publicly, I’m really quite awkward and insecure. I still struggle with overanalyzing everything I say, wondering what people think of me, and am easily bummed if I feel like people don’t like me.
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Swinging on a trapeze is a life-long dream I’m determined to make happen one day. If I could jump off another bridge tomorrow…I’d do it in a heartbeat! But you couldn’t pay me enough to sky dive. You could die, for pete’s sake!
- Many moons ago, during my first big Media meeting {while working in radio}, I was recovering from some mega chest congestion. I coughed into my hand and without realizing it, spewed a “glob” on my wrist. It was long after I had introduced myself and shared expressively {I talk with my hands} that I looked down and thought, “how did I get mustard on my arm!?”. We were eating breakfast. I wanted to die.
- I hate scrapbooking. Despite being a creative soul, the thought of having to literally print, crop, glue and embellish photos gives me hives.
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No matter how hard I try, I cannot bring myself to recycle my Richard Marx, Ace of Base, No Mercy or Michael Bolton CDs.
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I am in love with the ocean {and large bodies of water in general} and all the beauty, life and mystery it encompasses, and oddly enough, am equally
enamored with – and terrified of – sharks. They give me happy heeby-jeebies. -
I’m a picker. Zits, scabs, cradle cap, jagged nails, you name it…if I can see it, I want at it! This drives my family nuts!
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While I supported {okay, encouraged} the selling of my husband’s motorcycle when our first child was in utero…I long for the day we can purchase another. Vrrooom!
{just 16 days to go until I plan to eat this with a spoon!}
