Don't judge me but, the idea for this post was not my own. Regretfully. Creativity, at the moment, is something I am lacking. It is a little after four and my exhaustion is setting in. Unfortunately my best ideas only seem to pop up between the hours of 2 am and 4 am as I toss and turn struggling to fall asleep. Yet, I don't write them down like I should, and end up forgetting my own brilliance. It's such a tangled mess. Anyways, enough about my rambling. I discovered this post from Simone who maintains the blog "The Bottom of the Ironing Basket." I loved this simple idea of the post and decided to write one like it. So here it goes...
Don't judge me but...
I am terrible at directions.
In fact I am so terrible, that I have to search for another human being to give directions when someone asks me. I point, I stutter, I call out landmarks.
I tend to over-analyze every situation I am in.
I plot numerous outcomes both positive and negative and obsess over which will actually happen.
I love the taste of wine far too much.
In fact I am dreaming about a glass of Merlot as I type.
I hate the camera.
I try to stay away from it as much as I can.
I prefer to be alone at times.
Sometimes all I want is complete and utter solitude, a great magazine, and again, uh hem, a glass of wine.
I do not have a big sweet tooth.
I would rather have a big plate of french fries.
I love food yet I have a fear of gaining weight.
At this point I should get a trophy for will power.
I cry a lot.
It doesn't matter what the trigger may be; movies, television shows, concerts, quotes, great novels, or a great song, I will cry.
One leg is longer than the other.
It makes balancing very difficult at times. Which is why I should also ask you not to judge me when it comes to this: I walk into walls.
I don't go to church.
Sometimes when I do, I feel overwhelmed.
I curse.
Sometimes "fuck" is the only word that makes the kind of impact I want.
After too much whiskey I slur my words like a true Bostonian.
I am not from Boston, although this is something that I tell people in the south because "New Hampshire" apparently wasn't on their map in school.
I tend to be bit dramatic.
It's a shame I never took an acting class.
I never played a team sport when I was younger.
While everyone was joining a basketball team or playing baseball, I opted out. The only time I wanted to play a team sport is when I developed a love for hockey. When I asked my Dad however, he said that hockey would "ruin my pretty face."
I have never been to New York City.
Although I often dream of living a "Carrie Bradshaw" kind of lifestyle.
I am terrible at math.
I count on my fingers, use a calculator or ask someone who is far more intelligent than me.
I am not utilizing my college degree.
This is something that my parents have a hard time dealing with. I honestly at times, do not know what the hell I want to do. Why can't I apply for the wine-making, vineyard-owning, brilliant published writer, living in a sweet beach home, position? That's what I want. I'll get a degree in that.
I have curly hair and if I go to bed with it wet, I wake up a stellar version of Diana Ross.
Not much more to say there.
High heels kill my feet
I wear them anyway.
I don't own a pair of skinny jeans or leggings.
I got thighs and a booty and some people simply cannot pull off that look. I am one of them.
I hold on to things far too tightly.
I guess a part of me just wonders if such wonderful things can happen more than once.
I am utterly fascinated with Marilyn Monroe.
She had a keen desire to be loved, yet I don't know if she ever really found it. Admired yes, lusted after yes, but did she ever find that heart-wrenching, beautiful, volatile, love that she desired?
Last one.
I cannot for the life of me pronounce "apocalypse".
If the zombies were coming you would hear me stuttering like Rob Schneider in Big Daddy:
hip...hip-hop...hiponoumous.
YOU GIVE HIM THE EASY ONES!