27 January 2013

And now, a confession for you

My previous post was a bit selfish. I have these things that I know about myself, but I am good at avoiding them, and pretending they don't exist. I felt that if I wrote a few of them down, maybe I would start owing them a bit more. You are my witnesses.

So, I feel I owe you some confessions that you may actually be interested in.

One: When I was seven or eight I saw Grease for the first time, and was utterly smitten with John Travolta. When I said my prayers each night for the next week or two, I would blow a kiss into the air, and ask God to send it to him. I hope John is not in my theater when we are watching the movies of our lives in the great hereafter.

One a: The only celebrity crush that rivaled that first love was one I had on Harrison Ford in the 7th grade. Indiana Jones. I mean really. Ask my friends. They thought I was ridiculous. I wasn't.

One b: I also had a serious 10 minute mourning period (like really, I was very upset. I may have even thrown the book to the ground.) when I found out Mr. Darcy's first name is Fitzwilliam. 

Two: As a young girl I considered the fact that my mom ALWAYS knew how long things should take to heat up in the microwave a indication of the unfathomable wisdom she must have. It mystified me. How did she KNOW?

Three: During my Harrison Ford stage, I also walked around school speaking ubbi dubbi. If you don't know, try not to ask because I will respond and you may not want to be my friend afterward.

Four: On occasions when I fear for my life (like driving home on the ice-rain covered roads today, walking home in the dark past frat houses, etc.) I have a habit of imagining what people would say about me at my funeral. 

Five: I think cereal treats are a waste of marshmallows and cereal. No one should like them. Also, (it is unrelated but I don't want to finish my list out on six because that is an awkward number on which to finish.) I think my husband looks SO sexy in stripes. 

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