27 March 2013

fist pumps and face palms

This is an idea I got from a marvelous blog I follow, The Day Book. She calls it awkward and awesome. In order to not be and EXACT copy cat, I am calling it something different. Really I just love the word facepalm. It can convey the perfect emotion and train of thought for ridiculous things.

Fist Pumps:

I have watched BBC's Emma two and a half times in the last week. I lost count of the times I re-watched the scene when Mr. Knightly finally expresses his feelings for Emma. It is the most vulnerable romantic moment I have ever seen. (yes. I am a hopeless sap) I could have it on repeat for days and never stop getting those butterflies. If you think the Hollywood version is good (which it is), you need to watch this one!

I got to sleep in until 7:37 a couple of mornings ago. It was heaven.

I made Chesley a super sweet bleach shirt from one of his own photographs. It is one of the helicopters they fly with all of the spray gear on it. I was quite proud of the outcome. Skills. I have some.

Face Palms:

I have a cold sore that I thought was a pimple for two days before I realized it was not. Now it will be on my face like a beacon of shame for even longer.

You guys. I cant. find. my camera. I am dying inside. I haven't seen it since we moved, and I don't even know where to look.

Also, I ate about 10 cookies again yesterday, and finished off a carton of ice cream....out of the carton. My excessive sweet tooth is, I know, old news, but I keep thinking if I keep confessing it, someone will stop me!

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