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Archive for the ‘Beautiful Words’ Category

That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. (Shakespeare, der.)

I’ve been musing on names the last two days. I finally learned the name of a woman I’ve been seeing around the office, and it just doesn’t suit her.  But of course when kids are born, their parents don’t know what they’re going to grow up to be like, and they thus pick names they like, or family names, or names they hope the kids will grow up to be like, or whatever. So this woman’s parents had no idea that the name they so lovingly chose for their daughter would be a little odd, just based on what she looks like, how she carries herself, how she speaks, etc. Now granted that I don’t know her at all, so perhaps I’m wrong and her name suits her beautifully.

Plus, her name is a song from the 60’s, so I’ve had that silly song going around in my head for two days, and I only know a couple of lines of it, so it’s very annoying. The ear worm, I mean, not her name. And no, it’s not Windy, and that’s all I’m going to say. Okay, it’s also not Saffron. There.  Besides, I know more of both of those songs than I do of my current ear worm.

And then I had a brief net meeting after lunch today, and as we were waiting for the database to open, I commented that I was glad my mother hadn’t named me Patience, because I have none. Boy, that would have really sucked! I don’t particularly like it when parents name their children (usually girls) after traits they hope their children will possess.  Just think–my mother could have named me Patience Grace, and I’d have had to listen to all those not-funny jokes every time I get annoyed because things are happening too slowly or not at all, and oy, the comments I’d hear when I fell or bumped into something or fell up the stairs or slipped on nothing and landed on my butt.  Of course, my co-worker stated that I named myself Faith, and that I have plenty, but that’s different. I named myself.

Now you’ll probably be asking yourself, “Isn’t this the woman who said she wanted to have 4 sons so she could name them John, Paul, George, and Ringo?” And you’d be right.  And Ringo’d probably think I didn’t love him as much as the others, but he’d be wrong, because Ringo!  Or I could have chosen their last names, and named my non-existent 4 sons Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr, and that might have been better for John, Paul, and George, but poor Ringo would be even more miserable.

And yes, I still want a pet Peeve, even though my husband is thoroughly opposed to it. I guess I’ll have to get a fish. Or a pet rock. It can be my Peeve.

I think that the names parents give their children should be temporary. Like placeholders, I suppose, that when the children become adults at the age of 18 (or 17, in the wizarding world), they can choose to keep or add to or get rid of altogether.  I didn’t get rid of any of my names, even though I still don’t feel like a Virginia; I just plopped Faith down in front. And overall, I’m happy with Faith. Are there days where I wonder what I’d be like if I had chosen Claire? Because that was one of the options I was considering. Not really, because Faith is so perfect for me. And my sister, the incomparable Izzybella, not infrequently refers to me as “Oh ye of little” and I think that’s funny.

So now every time I see this particular woman at work, I’m going to be thinking about what I would name her if it were my decision, and if she knew what I was thinking, she’d probably be extremely glad she doesn’t know who I am. I don’t blame her.

Names are such funny things. I mean, all due respect to Shakespeare, and all, but a rose might smell just as sweet no matter what you called it (although if it were named Pungent Pit Sweat, I’d probably take its sweetness for granted and keep my nose far away from it), but the word rose is only beautiful because of what it stands for.

Did any of this make sense? If not, please pardon me. Lay the blame for this nonsensical posting on the fact that I’m mentally singing the two or three lines of a very annoying 60’s song.

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After yesterday’s oh-so-emotional posts, I need to take a break and be mundane and ordinary today. So here goes:I have a new favourite mascara: Big Fatty, by Urban Decay. The stuff is great! Even without curling my eyelashes, this mascara makes my lashes look so full that you’d think I had on fake eyelashes. Plus it makes them so long that they brush against my glasses when I put my readers or sunglasses on.   Of course, I think pretty much everything by Urban Decay is great, which is why it was such a delightful treat when Joe took me to Sephora on Tuesday evening and bought me everything I wanted. Well, everything I’d let him buy me, anyway. I got two eye shadows (Smog and Midnight Cowboy), lip gloss (lust), some edible pina colada sparkly body powder, the aforementioned mascara, some mineral makeup and some liquid makeup. I also got some new perfume–Givenchy Très Irresistible Soleil d’Été. It smells utterly delightful, being lighter than the heavy perfumes he likes to get me so it works well in the warmer weather. I don’t mind wearing those heavy perfumes when it’s cold out, but in the spring and summer I like lighter scents. We also went to see Pirates of the
Caribbean on Tuesday night. I liked it very much. I think they did a really good job with it. And Keith Richards was just hilarious!
I’m gearing up for the last Harry Potter book and the next movie. I’ve ordered a great hot pink spike-haired wig (I’m going to be dressing up as Tonks). I had requested to be off work on July 13th (the release date of the next movie), as I will be at the midnight show. However, I found out yesterday that the
U.S. release date was moved up to July 11th, so I had to change my day off.
  Fortunately, my supervisor loves Harry Potter, so she didn’t give me any flack about it at all, and asked for a photo of my costume.  I don’t have to take off work for the book release, since it’s always on a Friday night.  The book release is, I think, the week before the
Juarez show opens. Fortunately, we don’t have rehearsals on Friday nights, so Soleil, Izzybella, and I will be hanging out all evening and then reading all night. I’m trying to talk LeZard into joining us as well. I’ll have provisions at the house—chocolate in case of dementor attacks, jelly bellies (I can’t do Bertie Bott’s; I ate a soap flavoured one once and was queasy for two hours), chocolate frogs, jelly slugs, etc.  I’ll head over to the British Emporium in Grapevine to pick up some pasties, samosas, and other fun things. Speaking of the British Emporium, Izzybella and I went there while we were having our sisters’ day on Monday. I got some different foods to try—some really fantastic looking curry sauce, some curry beanz, a can of potato and leek soup—and some candy. The best by far was the box of clotted cream fudge from
Scotland. Oh. My. Gosh. That stuff was really good!!!!!!!!!
  It wasn’t chocolate fudge, but very creamy delicious yummy goodness.   I have decided that when I get ready to do the Christmas stockings this year, I’m going to go back and get some cool British candy. I also got a Fry’s Peppermint Cream bar, which was “dark chocolate with fondant center.”  Also very tasty. Not as good as the clotted cream fudge, but then few things are.  We got a couple of bags of different flavoured crisps to try (steak & onion, and cheese & onion), but we were too full to taste them.  Joe finished those off for us. And I got Joe a small tin of violet pastilles. I don’t know why he likes those things; to me it tastes like I’m eating flowers, and is completely unappealing. But he likes them.When I was taking Spanish in high school, I remember sitting with one of my friends who spoke Spanish at home and getting her to teach me how to cuss.  At the time I didn’t know how to swear with the fluency I now possess, so my knowledge of Spanish cussing is very limited.  And I know a vulgar word or two in Polish, and can do some swearing in French as well.  So when I’m at work cussing out the copier or my computer, I’m usually doing it in another language. A few years ago, when I was taking French in college, I got a book called Merde! The REAL French you were never taught at school.  I figured it would be full of slang and a few choice cuss words. And it does have plenty of slang, and more than a few choice cuss words.  There are things in this book that I wouldn’t even say in English!  I found the book yesterday and brought it to work with me.  I need to memorize a few more terms, so I’m not always merde-ing and zut-ing. Those get old, know what I mean?  And now that I’ve just shown you that I’m still 11 or 12 inside. . . .

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I wrote a long post on Friday, wherein I waxed rhapsodic on the word “raucous,” talked about my love of punk rock when I’m in a foul mood, waxed rhapsodic on the word “foul,” and blathered on about I now forget what else. I hit “publish post.” It took me to the screen where it showed the progress as it was republishing my blog. It made zero progress for 15 or 20 minutes until I finally, in supreme disgust, hit the refresh button and promptly lost my post. It really pissed me off, and in revolt I refused to blog again until now.

But I really have a lot to say, so I’m going to try again. But this time I’m going to copy and save the text of my post before I hit the publish button, so that when Blogger loses my post, I will still have a copy of it.

Okay–the words first. I love words. I mean, I seriously love words. Raucous is one of my favorites. You’ve probably seen it more than once in this blog. It sounds so lovely–raw and cuss come together in a brusque joining of emotion. Raucous! raucous raucous raucous raucous. And foul–when I say I’m in a foul mood, that’s saying something. It’s light years beyond being in a bad mood. Foul. It just a wonderful word. If the day outside matched one of my foul moods, the sky would be black and it would be pouring rain, but the rain would somehow be unable to pour away the muck and mire that one simply could not avoid stepping in, muck composed of horse droppings and the contents of chamber pots that had been hurled out of second story windows, and ankle-deep thick slimy mud, and icy water. And one’s umbrella would blow inside out despite all attempts to keep it from doing so. That’s what I mean when I say I’m in a foul mood. See why the phrase “bad mood” just doesn’t work there?

Punk rock. When I’m in a foul mood, I like to listen to punk rock. It just all goes together. Gimme my punk rock, and stay out of my way. I wasn’t in a foul mood on Friday, but I still wanted to listen to punk rock. It happens sometimes. I had one of my pissed-off mix CDs at work, but my boss had borrowed it so he could listen to “Run S***head Run.” So I didn’t get to listen to the Clash on the way home. I made up for it by listening to “One Angry Dwarf and Two Hundred Solemn Faces” by Ben Folds Five. It’s not punk rock, but it’s angry and funny and I love it.

I’ll finish up, very briefly, employee appreciation day. It went well. Mostly. I’m not going to talk anymore about it. Let’s just say that I’m glad it doesn’t come again until next year, and next year I am going to very strongly push for it to be held inside.

Weight loss. I lost another 1.2 pounds, for a total of 16.2 pounds. I am not losing quickly. You might have figured that out by the fact that I’ve been doing Weight Watchers since July 1st and I’ve only lost 16.2 pounds. But hey! I’ve lost 16.2 pounds! See? It’s all in the punctuation.

What’s the slowest delayed reaction, double-take you’ve ever seen? There’s a reason I ask. On Saturday afternoon I persuaded Joe to take me out to lunch. That’s after weighing in and going to my WW meeting. It’s also after I spent two hours stripping wallpaper border. I was hungry and tired. So we went to Logan’s Roadhouse and split grilled salmon, salad, and a huge baked sweet potato. Very yummy. When we got back into the car after lunch, Joe asked if we needed to go anywhere else, and I said that I needed a pair of shoes. He said okay, and was going to take me to DSW, but I told him Payless would be fine, because I only needed a cheap pair of shoes. I directed him to the nearest Payless, and he parked, unlocked the car, and was halfway out the door. He stopped, got back in, stared at me, and said, “You need more shoes?” I can think of no other way to punctuate his question to emphasize his complete and utter shock. I lost it. I sat there and laughed as I explained to him that I did indeed need a pair of either black ballet flats or else low-heeled dressy black pumps, since the soles of my ballet flats had come off long ago. And hey, since the shoes are Buy One/Get One Half Off, it only makes sense to buy two pairs instead of just one, right? So after unsuccessfully trying to talk him into 4 pairs (I was lusting after a pair of bright red shoes with obscenely high heels), I ended up with a pair of really cute dressy black pumps with low heels and a pair of black ankle boots.

In Joe’s defense, I do have lots of shoes. Nowhere near enough, because there is NO SUCH THING as enough shoes. Or purses. But I do have a lot. Oh, and he’s going to let me get a pair of red pumps with obscenely high heels, but he wants me to get them from Newport News instead of Payless.

Liz and I took a long walk on Saturday night, and then walked a little more before going to dinner at Mimi’s. We shared, naturally, and had salad, blackened chicken, fruit, and a really tasty pumpkin muffin. We each ate a third of the muffin, and I frantically poured salt all over the remaining third of the muffin to keep myself from picking at it. I was full and didn’t need to eat anymore, but it was so good I knew I’d keep eating it. I also had a cup of French onion soup. They make such fantastic French onion soup. The meal was so good that Liz suggested we take one home to Joe, so we did.

Yesterday I spent vast amounts of time decluttering. I filled two big black trashbags full of stuff for Goodwill; a regular kitchen-sized trashbag full of clothes for Sarah, and started another one that will be full by the time I finish the laundry; got some more trash out; and in general worked until I couldn’t work anymore. Joe was pretty cooperative with my giving so much stuff to Goodwill or dumping it, and didn’t make me haul anything back out of the Goodwill pile, as he has previously been known to do.

So I think that’s all I feel the need to blather about today. Thank you for reading this far, if you did so. You may now return to your regularly scheduled lives.

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Doesn’t that have a lovely ring to it? Rhinestone psychotic. Maybe that would be a good band name. I don’t know. You might be wondering where it came from. Frankly, so am I. I empty my spam folder every few hours. Most of the spam e-mails tell me how I could enlarge my penis, because my girlfriend thinks size honestly does matter. I hate to tell you, but if size matters, my girlfriend (that I didn’t even know I had) is in trouble, because last time I checked, I didn’t even have a penis! But this spam was entitled “Rhinestone Psychotic.” The little bit of text I could see without clicking to open it (and no, I NEVER open spam, no matter how interesting the title looks) read, “Coyote, the christian right and Global Warming.” I thought it was amusing that the phrase “christian right” was not capitalized, while the phrase “Global Warming” was. Normally one would see it the other way around.

So what type of story would one make by combining those phrases. Rhinestone psychotic, coyote, the christian right, and global warming? I’m not sure I want to see, although a part of me wants to try. A very tiny part.

Lots of rain this weekend, which has been nice. We’ve needed it. And it’s supposed to be dry tomorrow and Wednesday. I’m very glad, because the employee appreciation day at work is scheduled to take place outside on Wednesday afternoon, and I really didn’t want to cope with a rainy day. It would be problematic at best.

Joe and I went to the Handley Street Festival on Saturday morning with Liz, Dad, and Carol. It’s this cheesy little street fair we go to every year. I look forward to it, even though it does seem to always rain the day of the festival. My favorite antique store was having a 50%-off sale; unfortunately, none of their hats moved me this time. I’ve gotten some delicious hats there in times past. The Humane Society was there with a far-too-skinny border collie that Joe and I were playing with. If not for the fact that Molly is too set in her ways for us to bring another dog home, Joe and I might have done just that. The people we spoke with said that border collies have the highest return rate because people don’t understand how to meet their needs and how intelligent they are. I was very sorry to hear that, because we’ve been so delighted with Molly. When it’s time for us to get another dog, we’ll definitely go to the shelter and get another border collie. In fact, we’ll get two. I wish we had gotten two dogs when we got Molly–she wouldn’t have been so set in her ways, and it would have been nice for her to have a companion.

Liz unexpectedly got the evening off work on Saturday night, so we did a mall walk, picked up some freebies, and had dinner together. Joe volunteered to reimburse whatever I spent that evening, thinking we might do a movie or something. I bought a pair of trouser socks, a DVD, and paid for dinner. When I gave him the receipts, he said that he meant entertainment-wise, not shopping. I said, “I’m a woman. Shopping IS entertainment.” It was only $31, so I say he got off extremely cheaply. He was amused by my wisecrack, and learned to be more specific when he makes offers like that.

Life is good. The headaches have improved to the point where I have them less often than I do, and I’m extremely grateful. I have a follow-up appointment with the neurologist on the 25th. There are some slightly unpleasant side effects with the drug, but they’re so much less painful than the headaches that I can totally live with them.

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Today’s Earworm – Sorry, Wendy, you got here too late, and I don’t know that one anyway – is “Eddystone Light.” It was triggered by mailing something to someone who lives on “Eddy St.” I haven’t even heard “Eddystone Light” in years, so I’m not sure why it decided to pop up today. But there it was! So I’m walking around singing it cheerfully, fake Cornish accent and all, aloud, and blushing whenever anyone catches me.

Today’s Outfit – yes, I’m once again describing an outfit. But it’s an exceptionally cute one, dangit! We got a free jeans day at work, which is nice. So I’m wearing a pair of bootcut faded Levis with a long dark brown tank top with sequins on it, and a dark blue jacket with dark brown sequins. Normally I’d wear it with brown high-heeled loafers, but we got to wear sneakers today (an exceedingly rare event at work), so I’m wearing my totally non-matching but totally comfortable dark blue and silver and white Reeboks.

Today’s Insult to Injury – I think I’m getting sick. Lemme tell ya, that just sucks all the way to last Tuesday. I got back from lunch with a scratchy throat and the “ahems” that don’t clear it out. I was gonna go spend the night with my adorable sister, leaving my equally adorable husband the freedom to play his guitar as loud as he wants to! I was gonna go to a movie!

Clover’s Injury to Injury to Insult to Injury – Her youngest son, T, broke his arm. I say no more. Just go visit her blog (link’s on the right) if you feel like it, and give her some love. She needs it. I was planning to go by there this weekend, but don’t dare, if it’s true that I’m getting sick–she does NOT need my germs on top of everything else going on in her household!

Two new words I learned today – qwief, courtesy of Plimco, and emetephobia, courtesy of Nicole. I didn’t know there were words for either of those things. I have qwieffed before, and never knew what it was called! And I have emetephobia, and didn’t know that’s what it’s called! And now I do!

Two new poems I found this week, courtesy of Chicory – “String Theory Sutra” by Brenda Hillman (I found this myself, while trying to puzzle out a riddle Chicory posed), and “Why I Am Not a Painter” by Frank O’Hara (the real answer to the riddle Chicory posed). Both are excellent poems. If you like poetry, go read ’em. You’ll like ’em.

People I Love – Joe and Liz and Mom and Dad and Carol and Christa and Charles and Melissa and Sarah and Dale and Chicory and Plimco and Sam Wright and Wendy and Nicole (and everybody else)

Dogs I Love – Molly and Baxter and Cydney (and everydoggy else)

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Today’s Earworm – Sorry, Wendy, you got here too late, and I don’t know that one anyway – is “Eddystone Light.” It was triggered by mailing something to someone who lives on “Eddy St.” I haven’t even heard “Eddystone Light” in years, so I’m not sure why it decided to pop up today. But there it was! So I’m walking around singing it cheerfully, fake Cornish accent and all, aloud, and blushing whenever anyone catches me.

Today’s Outfit – yes, I’m once again describing an outfit. But it’s an exceptionally cute one, dangit! We got a free jeans day at work, which is nice. So I’m wearing a pair of bootcut faded Levis with a long dark brown tank top with sequins on it, and a dark blue jacket with dark brown sequins. Normally I’d wear it with brown high-heeled loafers, but we got to wear sneakers today (an exceedingly rare event at work), so I’m wearing my totally non-matching but totally comfortable dark blue and silver and white Reeboks.

Today’s Insult to Injury – I think I’m getting sick. Lemme tell ya, that just sucks all the way to last Tuesday. I got back from lunch with a scratchy throat and the “ahems” that don’t clear it out. I was gonna go spend the night with my adorable sister, leaving my equally adorable husband the freedom to play his guitar as loud as he wants to! I was gonna go to a movie!

Clover’s Injury to Injury to Insult to Injury – Her youngest son, Tate, broke his arm. I say no more. Just go visit her blog (link’s on the right) if you feel like it, and give her some love. She needs it. I was planning to go by there this weekend, but don’t dare, if it’s true that I’m getting sick–she does NOT need my germs on top of everything else going on in her household!

Two new words I learned today – qwief, courtesy of Plimco, and emetephobia, courtesy of Nicole. I didn’t know there were words for either of those things. I have qwieffed before, and never knew what it was called! And I have emetephobia, and didn’t know that’s what it’s called! And now I do!

Two new poems I found this week, courtesy of Chicory- “String Theory Sutra” by Brenda Hillman (I found this myself, while trying to puzzle out a riddle Chicory posed), and “Why I Am Not a Painter” by Frank O’Hara (the real answer to the riddle Chicory posed). Both are excellent poems. If you like poetry, go read ’em. You’ll like ’em.

People I Love – Joe and Liz and Mom and Dad and Carol and Christa and Charles and Melissa and Sarah and Dale and Chicory and Plimco and Sam Wright and Wendy and Nicole (and everybody else)

Dogs I Love – Molly and Baxter and Cydney (and everydoggy else)

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I always say that I steal a good idea when I see it. I noticed Chicory’s list, and thought it was a cool idea. So here goes:

1. My very first memory involves me and a childhood friend standing at the side of a large, deep hole in the ground. I used to think it was a dream until I saw a photograph of the two of us standing by a large, deep hole in the ground. I have no idea what the holes were there for, or why we were standing there, but there you have it!

2. Once I mixed up a batch of mud-water in an old milk jug, and told my brother it was chocolate milk. He drank it, and got sick (of course). I was too young to understand about germs, so I didn’t realize that the bacteria in the dirty old milk jug was what made him sick. I insisted then, and still insist, that the first swallow was my fault. If he was too dumb to realize that it wasn’t chocolate milk after one swig, then he deserved to be sick.

3. Along similar lines, I gave my husband a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans one day. He didn’t suspect anything, because I am a fiend for Jelly Bellies. The look on his face as he asked me what the hell he was eating was classic.

4. I’m sorry for that now, though, because on Christmas Day I ate a soap-flavoured Bertie Bott bean, and was sick for two hours.

5. As a kid, I was an incredible liar. I lied all the time, even when there was no need to. The truth was too boring.

6. Maybe that’s why I started writing, so that I could tell the lies on paper and tell the truth in person.

7. Didn’t work, though. I still tell lies every now and then, just for the sheer fun of it.

8. When my sister Izzybella was a baby, she had platinum blonde hair. I used to love brushing it, and would sit there and brush her hair until she got bored and wanted to do something else.

9. When I was 11 or 12, I had some friends who dared me to shoplift some lip gloss. I did.

10. I also shoplifted cigarettes. I thought it was cool to smoke. The only reason I’m not a smoker to this day is because someone told me that it wasn’t enough to just pull in some smoke and then puff it back out. She told me that I had to pull in some smoke, take a deep breath, and then puff it back out. I did so one time, puked violently, and was nauseated for two days. I never smoked again.

11. During the brief interval that I was a smoker, I was afraid to light matches. So I used to light my cigarettes on the burner of our gas stove. One day when I turned on the burner, it took slightly longer to ignite, there was a puff and I burned off my eyelashes.

12. After that I switched to a lighter. My brother found it and set my carpet on fire. I got grounded for a month.

13. I’m glad all that stuff happened; otherwise, I’d smell like an ashtray and have lung cancer.

14. The thing I regret the most: when I was in 9th grade, I went through an extremely brief spurt of popularity with at my small school. I wasn’t popular with the cool kids, but I was popular with everyone else. I let it go to my head, and someone asked me what I thought of a certain girl. I didn’t even know her, but airily replied that she was a bitch. Her boyfriend, who had been a friend of mine, never talked to me again. I wish I could go back to that moment, and unsay those words. I wish I could tell her now how sorry I am that I did that.

15. When I was 10 or 11, my parents bought a chest freezer stocked with all kinds of food. My favorite snack at the time was to take a can of orange juice concentrate and eat a spoonful of the frozen concentrate.

16. My other favorite snack was boiled peanuts. If you’ve never had boiled peanuts, oh my gosh, you are so missing out!!! My mother sealed them in plastic bags and stored them in the freezer. I would come home from school, boil a pot of water, and put the freezer bag in until the peanuts were steamy.

17. I moved to Minnesota on a whim when I was 18. I hated it.

18. When I moved back to Texas from Minnesota, I stopped my car on the side of the road as soon as I crossed the border back into Texas. I got out of the car and did a little dance, vowing never to leave Texas again.

19. I lied. I did leave Texas. I lived in Salt Lake City and Anaheim.

20. It’s a good thing I did live in Salt Lake City, since that’s where I met my husband, Joe.

21. When I first saw Joe, I thought he was the biggest geek in the world.

22. He is.

23. But I love him anyway.

24. I’ve watched every Harry Potter movie so many times that I can recite along with the dialogue.

25. I have now seen Goblet of Fire six times, and am planning to go again this weekend. I *really* wish it would hurry up and come out on DVD.

26. I have read each Harry Potter book over and over and over.

27. I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the good guys.

28. Using the same points for the previous argument, I can make an argument for Severus Snape being on the side of the bad guys. J.K. Rowling is a brilliant writer. I wish she’d hurry up and write book 7, so I can read it!!

29. When I was 11, I read Gone With the Wind and thought it was the best book ever.

30. I hate Gone With the Wind.

31. I took some Metabolife this morning, and I have got such a buzz on! Wow!

32. My all-time favorite word is borborygmus. It means the rumbly noise in your gut when you’re digesting food or have gas. I found it one day when I was reading the dictionary for fun.

33. I read the dictionary for fun.

34. Every morning when I get up, I sit at my computer and read my personal e-mail and talk myself out of going to work.

35. Every morning at the last possible minute, I get ready and go to work.

36. I don’t like talking on the phone. I prefer talking in person or writing letters or e-mails.

37. Every now and then, my mother’s voice comes out of my mouth. It’s always a freaky thing.

38. I sing a song to my dog every morning. “Good morning, good morning. You slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning, to you. Good morning, good morning. It’s great to see your face. Good morning, good morning. I love you. Boop-boop-a-doo.” And we snuggle and kiss each other while I sing it to her.

39. All of my dogs get the same middle name: Stinkbutt.

40. Mine and Joe’s first dog was named Stanislaus Stinkbutt.

41. The dog we have now is named Molly Stinkbutt.

42. I also call Molly Sugarlips, Sugarbooger, Mollypop, and Mollypopsicle Girl.

43. I call Joe Sugarbooger and Sugarlips too.

44. I am deathly afraid of roaches. And we have an older house and get those huge monster ginormous cockroaches from hell. Whenever I see one, I scream, and make Joe kill it. He wants to know why I don’t just kill it myself, and I tell him that killing cockroaches is the man’s job.

45. My all-time favorite meal is cheese enchiladas, rice, and refried beans.

46. My all-time favorite home-cooked meal is porcupine meatballs, Joe’s mashed potatoes, spinach salad, and lazy daisy cake.

47. I can curl my tongue.

48. I can whistle, but only with the “pucker up your lips and blow” technique. I don’t know how to do those loud piercing shrill whistles that are so cool.

49. I can burp on demand, but they’re usually pretty lame little burps.

50. The last time Izzybella and I went to the movies, I forced a burp right after the cute little polar bear cub slugs down some Coke. She laughed. I wish I could burp louder, so that everyone in the theatre could have heard me. Yeah, I’m pretty crass sometimes.

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