I’ve been in a mood.

I’m not sure what started it really. It could have been seeing a dead body last weekend, or feeling like my boss has declared jihad on me. It could have been the realization I’m not as healthy as what I think I am- despite giving up all the food (AND BEER!) I love. It could have been a nurse who ignored my wish to try a different vein but gave me the startled look when she felt the ’crunch’ of the needle going through the scar tissue on the spot I told her not to try. It could have been the fact that it’s been unbearably hot and I have a truck with no air conditioning. It could be that I forgot to get paid, I ran out of gas or that Ann Coulter has been talking again. It could be that my feelings have been hurt in the worst possible way- by someone who doesn’t even realize it. (And if you are like me, knowing they don’t realize it makes the feeling that much worse). It could be the fact that despite 17 attempts- I don’t have a teaching job in the fall. Not even the kindergarten position I really wanted.

When this type of mood hits, I shut off my phone, bundle myself in my coat of self pity and walk.

I left the house with a slam and walked down the street, the air so dry and thick with heat it was hard to breathe. With clenched fists and grinding teeth, I kicked small pebbles on the sidewalk and watched as they left trails of dust that looked like the tails on a comet. I looked down at my bruised hand and felt angry again at the nurse, who thought she knew more than me. I felt angry for the people who’ve slipped out of my life, who force me to wonder “why don’t you miss me?”. I felt angry at the School Boards who didn’t hire me, angry that despite all my promises- they had indeed caused me to doubt myself- again. I felt angry that my boss made me feel like I was 9 years old and all I wanted to do was to tell an adult on her.  But I couldn’t. Because she IS an adult- and so am I.

I walked until my legs hurt, until I unclenched my fists and allowed a few hot tears to run down my cheek. I walked until my body ached and I had long since stopped grinding my teeth. It was then that I felt the first drop. I looked up and saw a dark violet sky ready to burst with rain. I turned slowly and began the long trek back home.

As the fat drops fell slowly at first, then much quicker, soaking me to the bone within minutes- I resisted the urge to run. I resisted the urge to get annoyed at something I couldn’t control, at the fact I had left the windows open, at the idea that this would of course happen to me. I realized that it didn’t matter how slow I walked, how fast I ran- I was going to get soaked. I walked slowly in my t-shirt and shorts while around me the world moved in fast forward- a blur of shrieking couples jogging to their cars, of moms rushing to herd their children inside, of teenagers running for shelter to protect their hair. I felt the mascara run down my face, the dust wash off my bare legs, the anger seep out slowly like air from a balloon.

I took a deep breath, found what felt like a smile, searched for the biggest puddle and jumped.

What I think about when I’m bored at work…

                           Top 10 Reasons Why I Should Rule The World

1. There are huge spin offs that come with ruling the world. A gigantic amount of riches, the best health care money can buy, good looking men (who are funny, layer and understand why flo is important), a ton of material possessions and as much international travel I want. You have to be a deeply superficial person to fully want all of these and be willing to do anything to get them. Thankfully, I’m the kind of person who would steal from the elderly to expense my wine tasting adventures in Europe.

2. I like giving instructions in a loud voice, enjoy it when people chant my name and I feel better addressing large masses of people.

3. I can be paranoid. History has shown that the greatest leaders are the ones who’ve been a titch out of reality. That’s totally me. If you’re paranoid, chances are you’re going to get rid of any possible successor before they get their tires in ‘overtaking’ motion. Paranoia is key to staying in power, and I’ve got that in spades.

4. I’ve been educated- just enough. If I had my masters I would be too smart to rule, if I couldn’t write my name, I wouldn’t’ t be trusted by the masses. Alexander the Great had Aristotle- I had Mr. Mitchell- grade 8 computer teacher. It all evens out.

5. Dictators are usually seen as individuals who hold infinite wisdom. Although, as we all know from my lack of computer/mechanical/common sense skills I do not possess infinite wisdom (even after schooling with Mr. Mitchell), I have something better. The genius to say “Now” instead of “Um…” when I have nothing to say which makes it always seem like I’m on the brink of some intellectual breakthrough. Also, my ability to end each sentence in a question which makes me sound far more wise than what I actually am. Now…. don’t you agree?

6. World leaders write memoirs. It’s a nice way to settle scores without killing people. I’ve already started mine, so be careful.

7. Dressing the part. First of all, let me say that I wear hats quite often. What a coincidence that Attila the hun, Castro and Napoleon were also hat wearers. (I was going to add Caesar but I’m not sure if a crown of gold feathery things actually qualifies as a hat). I also enjoy wearing brocade and am a big fan of donning medals. All pluses for me and world domination.

8. I think I could stage a wicked coup. I really have nothing to add on this one, or even have any sort of evidence to point to the fact, it just seems really logical that I would stage a great one. Heavy on the surprise, light on the mercy!

9. I’ve founded a faith. Dictators usually don’t follow other religions but tweak things so that they end up the center of all prayer. Image is a big part of being the leader of the world, and I’ve thought this one through. It’s called ‘brandyism’ and follows a pretty lax list of 10 or so rules.. or lets say …..commandments… for everyone to follow. Nice general ideas that mix historical values with pop culture such as  ’honor thy neighbour, lend them some sugar!’.

10. I’ve killed a duck. Many young dictators have shown interest in killing animals. Drowning kittens, pulling the wings off a butterfly etc. When I first started driving, I was going down a country road and I thought this mom duck was going to start to fly so I didn’t slow down… I hit her directly with my truck and killed her while all her little ducklings watched. I cried for 2 hours.

Hmm, now that I’ve painted myself as an animal killing lunatic, I can end this.

I was browsing eBay today (my new favorite addiction hobby) when it became clear that there is literally nothing that a person in today’s world can’t have. From a copy of Marvin Gaye’s death certificate, to signed photos of Japanese basketball players, to cashmere pullovers for your terrier, there is nothing that you can’t find, purchase and have shipped to your home in 3-4 working days. It’s amazing. A website totally devoted to giving us everything that we never knew we wanted. A lovely concept that got me thinking. Ebay is there to give us what we want, but when it comes to real life, to love- where there are no listings, or ‘buyer beware’ comments, are we ever really happy with what we get?

Nice guys are not enough of a challenge, and the challenging guys are never appropriate enough to introduce to your family (and they usually ride motorcycles which I find scary). Guys who call you are needy, guys who never call are frustrating. Guys who volunteer to help you fix your desk have an ulterior motive and the guys who don’t volunteer, don’t care enough about you to be invited over in the first place.

I have a friend dating an urbanite wishing he was just a little more countrified. A man who knows which hair gel stands up the best in the summer heat but squeals in horror at the thought of driving a stick shift. I have a friend contemplating dating a farmer wishing he was just a little more academic. He is a member of the United Farmers of Alberta, not the University of Alberta. He can tell her what oil to put in her car, but thinks brushetta is a type of weapon found in the Middle East. A friend dating  an older man just wishing she could shave 10 years off his age, so she could introduce him to her family. And eat dinner at 7pm, instead of 4.

Single girls wishing for single men, girls with men wishing for a different men, broken up girls wishing to get back together with the men that broke up with them, and every once in a while a happily coupled girl admits that she just wishes for the excitement brought on upon first dating a new man. With everyone wishing for something (and occasionally someone) else, I sometimes worry that when it somes to red hot romance, people are always finding that the grass is greener in the relationship they aren’t in.

I’d like to think not. My situation (being a young, single, female) naturally prompts me to be fueled with the kind of naïve optimism that I will ignore when I’m 30, shake my head at when I‘m 40 and will wish for again when I‘m 50. (Okay, so maybe the fact that I watched a Nicholas Sparks movie this weekend also has something to do with my current hopeful nature). I just like to think that when it’s the right person, you know. Or maybe you don’t know, but you know enough to stop searching and take a real chance on something that appears to be what you’ve been looking for. They may still be closer to your dads age than yours, or drive a tractor, or write you bad poetry in horrible rhyming couplets, but the good outweighs the bad. There are millions of people who could be your potentially perfect partner and I like to think that when you find that one perfect-for-you-person, you stop comparing and are just ridiculously happy with what you have. 

Call me a fool, call me naive, call me the girl who just thinks this because she’s single, but I really do believe that the grass will always look greener if you are always looking elsewhere and expecting it to be.

So, I could be writing about my time in the hospital this weekend where I read a complete years worth of Family Circle magazines from the early 90’s (Hey, there’s this new show called “Friends” on, it’s supposed to be funny), but there’s too much other stuff for me to say right now. I will say that I’m fine, tired of needles and people who tell you things aren’t going to hurt when they will (scar tissue is my #1 enemy, having just recently bumped Kirsten Dunst to #2), but for now, let me share with you some good stuff:
                                          

Paige, from 42 has chosen me as a rocking blogger girl. Which, rocks. Because a) I’m a girl, b) I think I rock, and c) the badge is pretty cute. Also, it comes from Paige, who has a pretty freaking great blog herself, so it means even more. It’s sorta like if Stephen Hawking gave you a ’smart badge’. See what I’m saying?

Anyway, you are supposed to give it to 5 people who’s blogs you enjoy, but I honestly don’t think I could choose just 5. I like you all! So if you are on my blogroll, or if I’ve ever commented on your site, you deserve the badge too.

Also, the entertaining Kefla  who understands just why “if you know what I mean?”, is the greatest line ever, tagged me for a meme and since I’m all about memes since they deal with ME, I thought I would give it a go.

NSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

1. Classy
2. Meaning of Loaf/Cherry Ride (Carrie got tagged twice-she feels SO popular!!!)
3. I’m Not Carrie Bradshaw
4. Kefla In Disguise
5. It’s like I’m,… mmmagic!

Select five people to tag:
Again, I’m going to skip the tagging people and just say, if you want to do it, pull a Nike and JUST DO IT.

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Probably breathing into a paperbag somewhere thinking that in a year I would be forced to DRIVE! A VEHICLE! ON THE ROAD! Shockingly, I ended up waiting until I was 17. Not like it helped me, within a month I had killed a duck while driving.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Honestly? Just getting used to the gluten-free lifestyle. It hit me pretty hard. Oh, and you know, working, circulating blood to all my vital organs, hanging out with my friends, etc, etc.

Five snacks you enjoy:
Let me clarify. My list would include more junk food if I could eat it. I’m not one of those girls who gets off on wheatgrass, I’m just allergic to “the good stuff”. With that said..
1) Popcorn. Anytime. I love popcorn.
2) Ants on a log- only with peanut butter and almonds instead of cheese whiz (which makes me gag) and raisins (which I don’t like but pretend I’m allergic to. Sort of like Carrie and parsley)
3) Oranges
4) Enviro-kids cereal
5) Grape popsicles

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
1) “Gin & Juice”- Snoop
2) “Poor Unfortunate Souls”- Little Mermaid Soundrack
3) ” Hotel Yorba”- The White Stripes
4) ” Drive On”- Johnny Cash
5) “Ruby Blue”- Roisin Murphy

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Pay my student loans.
2) Give some to my parents.
3) Pay my brother back for all those drinks.
4) Rent a theatre for everyone I know to watch a mid-night screening of the new Harry Potter movie
5) Go on a trip…. Fiji maybe?

Five bad habits:
1) Doing these
2) Saving all my worries for the moment my head touches my pillow
3) Not being able to say no
4) Stopping when I only need to yield
5) Skipping breakfast 

Five things you like doing:
1) Planning exciting roadtrips and/or elaborate theme parties with friends
2) Writing
3) Practicing my air guitar in my public venues
4) Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor
5) Board games, especially if my brother is playing too.

 Five things you would never wear again:
1) M.C. Hammer pants. Especially zebra print ones. And no, the pictures are hidden.
2) Acid-wash anything
3) My “Blossom” hat
4) Hospital gowns, this is more of a wish rather than actual choice however.
5) Any article stamped with a “NO FEAR” logo. What the hell was I thinking?? 

Five favorite toys:
Hmm, I don’t really have favourite ‘toys’. I mean, I’m sort of boring that way. I don’t have remote control cars, or really insane sound sytems, or yachts named after famous actors from the 1960’s. I read a lot, so maybe I will put 5 books that I like and think EVERYONE should read.
1) ”The Little Prince”
2) “A short history of nearly everything”
3) “Harry. Potter.” (I’m looking at you Egan)
4) “On Beauty”
5) Babysitter Clubs Super Special, the one where they win the lottery and go to Cali. OR…  “You shall know our velocity!”

As many of you know, when it comes to the English language I’m totally cutting edge. I say things like “holy dang!”, “Geez!” and sometimes a fiesty “what the hell?!”. However, once in a while a little gem rolls around in my brain and falls out my mouth that I consider truly fantastic. Last posts genius idea to use ‘OBAMA’ as a verb was one of those.

I decided that for this new verb to truly make it’s mark, I had to start using it. IMMEDIATELY. So last night I called a dear friend under the guise of wanting to catch up (fool!), to put my “OBAMA” use to work…

Me: “Hey, what’s up?”

Smart Friend: “Hmm, nothing. Just got home from work. How was your day?”

Me: “Oh good. You know, just trying to get more resumes in to the school board. Seriously though, if I don’t get hired for a job, I’m going to have to OBAMA the crap out of a few people!”

Crickets

Smart Friend: (lets out a gigantic sigh into the phone) “Brandy, did you just call me so you could test out “OBAMA”?”

Me: “I don’t know what you are talking about. What ever do you mean?”

Smart Friend: “Sorta like when you called to test out the phrase ” it was Peter Pan-demonium” or ” I’m out- like a mo-fo light?”

Me: “It’s good though right? I’m mean, just say it! OBAMA the crap out of someone! Genius!”

Smart Friend: “Yes, it is. I’m going to do some laundry now. Call me back when you are a little more calm.”

So, I think it’s going to be a hit. Also, my birthday is IN. EXACTLY. TWO. MONTHS. Start planning accordingly.

Here was today’s thought process I had at Wal-Mart (and I wonder why buying new socks takes about 3 and a half hours)

“Brad? No. Not after Meet Joe Black.”

“George? Ahh, I love him, but we just spent Monday night together. And although he pulls off a suit better than anyone else, I need some space from him. Especially knowing he’s calling other girls. He’s a sly minx that George. A bit of a tramp really, but with that smile, oh, I know he will never do it again. Hey Brandy, wtf? When did you settle for a man tramp? Stay strong. Put him back, he’s not good for you. And sure, he’s cute now but was he cute on ”The Facts of Life“? Not really. Okay, good job. Take a deep breathe and keep going.”

“Maya? No. I hate to say it, but most of the time I don’t understand what the hell she is talking about. Which makes me feel bad, because I feel like I should get her, and I don’t. And there’s something about the way she talks that always makes me feel like I’m getting scolded. I think Chris Rock is feeling the same way actually.”

“Obama? Hmm, needs more thought. A bit dull, but defintely fun to say, someone should turn it into a verb. Like, ‘ I’m going to OBAMA the crap out of you!’, or ‘ She put on the dress and OBAMAed all over the dance floor’. A possibility, over to the side you go Obama, right next to my eight packs of gum and new lipgloss.”

“Jay-Z? Pass. 99 Problems and the look he’s giving me right now is totally another one. Dude, what’s the deal? Why do you always look so down? You are bouncing with Beyonce. Hmm. Maybe his problem is girls like me who say ‘bouncing with Beyonce’. Maybe Beyonce just runs his show and he’s tired. Tired of the man, and the girl, and the problems. I bet that’s it. Beyonce seems like she would be so demanding. Poor Jay-Z. Looks like that’s 100 problems.”

“Queen Rania of Jordan? Hmm, she looks like Norah Jones and but her smile makes me feel like she’s thinking something dirty. And really, now is not the time for dirty thoughts. No, not even for a Queen.”

“Condi? Oh Condi. I don’t know what to say. I want to choose you, but the look Bono is giving you sort of creeps me out. Like he’s angry that he had to invite you along for this ride, but knows he helps his ‘cred’.  Is he trying to put a laser beam through you with those glasses and that stare? Can you feel a hole burning into your head? Are you in pain Condi? I suppose a laser to your head would be small pain compared to the headaches I bet you get at your job. Tres stressful, I imagine. Either way, I’m going to have to pass.”

“Don? Oh hello Don! Do you come here often? Wow, you have such nice chocolate eyes. I love your work. You really pulled this off, your stare feels like it goes right through me. What? You feel it too? You are defintely coming home. Wow, we are getting so serious so quickly, but why fight this connection? Sorry OBAMA, maybe next time?”

And with that, I put the newest issue of Vanity Fair in my cart. Oh, and is it just me, or in this photo, doesn’t it look like George W just asked the Archbishop a stupid question and the Archbishop is ‘taking a moment’ before he curb stomps George? Seriously though, doesn’t it?

In case you didn’t notice from the tan lines and bikini sales- it’s summer. That glorious season where men use every excuse to take their shirt off (Hello Matthew, I’m talking to you) and women begin whispering the dreaded word- ‘diet’.

It seems everytime I check my beloved google reader, I’m reading another post about diets or dieting or losing weight in time for summer. Which is fine- I think having a place to set goals and share frustrations/triumphs is good, but I just wonder, when is it too much?

Let me take you back a few years, (13 actually), when yours truly was 12 years old. I was on an exciting adventure touring the biggest mall ever with my 4-H group ( 4-H is like Brownies, except it involves animals- like horses or cows. Myself being a ‘horse’ girl, having been raised around them) when everyone started talking about going swimming here. I freaked out- I didn’t know the mall had a pool and hadn’t packed a suit. A few of the teenaged girls volunteered to take me shopping for one. While they got sidetracked buying blue eyeshadow (because really, who hasn’t been there?), I wandered over to the swimsuits and into a world of self doubt I didn’t know existed.

Before then I hadn’t thought about it a lot, what size I was. My friends and I always just seemed the same size. None of us got made fun of for being fat, or for being skinny, we all seemed just right. We all played soccer or volleyball, and rode horses. We made snowmen and went swimming. No one was ever left behind or so out of breath they collapsed in a heap sweat. But staring at the suits I began to feel my body growing, like that kid in Charlie and the Chocolate factory, and suddenly I didn’t think I was so small anymore. I grabbed the suit that looked like it might fit and headed back to the girls who were well on their way to creating looks that would have stopped the heart of any member of New Kids on the Block.

It wasn’t until I came out of the hotel bathroom, ready to go downstairs in my purple and blue one piece that the older girls noticed me. And it wasn’t in a good way.  I thought maybe I had chosen the wrong color. The one girl, Carmen, came over to me and said words I will never forget:

“Dude. You are wearing a maternity swimsuit. Why the hell would you buy that?”

My warped mind had me thinking I would barely fit into a maternity swim suit. I looked down and saw the large, excess of fabric hanging around my belly button. I could have fit a massive beachball in my bathing suit and still had it fall off my shoulders from being too big.  I look back now at photos of my 12 year old self,  and I’m a beanpole. But I had let myself think I was anything but that. I didn’t go swimming that day, my suit was too big and exposed all my bits anytime I moved, so I sat on the side listening to the shrieks of laughter come twirling down the waterslide.

I couldn’t tell you how much I weigh today. I don’t know. I know my doctor told me I’m healthy, and that my favourite jean jacket from grade 9 still fits. I know that I can play a game of soccer without falling over, can shovel out my truck in knee deep snow. I know that there are bits about me that I want to change, and bits that I never will. I know that the only time I will pick out a maternity suit will be when I can actually feel the baby kicking.

So learn from my mistake. Regardless of your weight, your “goal size”, your willpower to hold out on having a second cupcake, remember that sometimes self doubt, or inaccurate views of your body can keep you from missing out on the good stuff.

Like the waterslide.

Although I’m not Richard Branson, I spend a lot of time on planes. This has less to do with the fact I’m a jet setter, and more to do with the fact that gas prices have caused it to be more economical to fly rather than drive my lovely (albeit gas guzzling) truck.  It’s a sad day for the world when it’s cheaper for me to fly, but there it is.

I’ve been doing a lot of travelling this month. Since June 1st, I’ve been to an airport 7 times, taken 5 trips and spent over 15 hours waiting for flights while counting fanny packs on fellow travellers reading Al Gore’s latest (which I’m not really enjoying, by the way). I’ve noticed many alarming behaviours and I suspect that these are not ‘trends’, but rather common occurances  that most people ignore because they believe what they are seeing doesn’t happen regularly. I’m here to  a) detail these horrible acts by fellow travellers that make me want to kick people in the junk b) confirm to all of you that they DO happen on a REGULAR basis and c) outline a guideline for what we as travellers should do instead and d)  perhaps use writing as a tool to let out a little “air-rage” that might have built up.

Let’s begin.

1.  What you did: You have scoured your home for every liquid, gel, cream and spray and have convientently packed them all into your carry on.
What you should do so I won’t go postal on you: READ. THE. SIGNS. Let me be the first to say that I’m still puzzled by the fact that my favourite lipgloss is considered a security threat but I can board a plane with 9 sharp pencils and 13 pens (I’m a teacher) in my bag. What poses the bigger threat? Can I smear someone to death with my “petting pink” gloss? Either way, it doesn’t matter. The rules are posted so I know to throw my gloss in a ziplock bag or put it in my suitcase. And yet everytime I go I manage to get RIGHT BEHIND someone who has taken everything that has a pump nozzle and packed it into their carry on. And then (this my favourite part) they loudly complain that they didn’t know that their economy sized Jergens lotion wasn’t allowed on the plane. Even when you are asked three times if you have any items such as economy sized Jergens lotion in your bag while checking in.

2. What you did: Gave me a dirty look because I scored seat F12 (aka. “the dream seat”)
What you should do so I won’t go postal on you: Realize that seat F12, (which is an emergency exit seat, plus usually the only seat on the plane that doesn’t have a seat in front of it) is a prime seat and is going to go to someone who has the smarts to go online 24 hours in advance and request it.  Instead of giving me a dirty look you 32 year old woman, you should nod your head and say “well played”, and if you want, you can throw in a bow. And for the record, if I saw someone who needed the seat more than me, I would switch. But you didn’t need it and the mean look you attempted with your botoxed face just made me angry.

3. What you did: Complained loudly to the flight attendant about the crying baby.
What you should do so I won’t go postal on you: Okay here’s the thing. I’m pretty sure we can ALL hear the crying baby and not just you. And last time I checked, ‘crying baby’ didn’t make anyone’s list of top 10 favourite sounds. However. I’m pretty sure that the young mom who is in charge of this crying (and obviously sick) baby is doing everything she can to quiet her baby. I don’t have kids, but I think it’s safe to say that no one likes attention  drawn to them by a sobbing infant with drool running down their face. So next time, maybe instead of giving dirty looks and complaining (because really, what is that going to do? Do you think the fight attendant is just waiting for someone to complain so she can whip out her magical ‘instant happy baby’ wand and fix the situation?), maybe just give the mom a look of sympathy and read your airplane magazine.  Quietly. With your head down.

4. What you did: Refused to turn your cell phone off
What you should do so I won’t go postal on you: Listen, I like talking to my friends too. In fact, one of my favourite places to call them is while I’m at the airport so I can tell them about people like you, especially when you are wearing a business suit with a nylon fanny pack. But when you are on the plane, and we are ready to take off, maybe consider shutting down the call to your “buddy Len”. You do know when the pilot makes the announcement to turn phones off and then the flight attendants say it, you are included, right? And that they are only politely asking you because they are trying to avoid lawsuits during these tough air travel times, but what the two pretty attendants with the swinging ponytails want to say to you is, “Shut. Your. Fucking. Phone. Off. Sir”. Seriously.

5. What you did: Held up the plane by showing up late. REALLY LATE. And then, took off your shoes for the whole plane to smell what lives in your shoes.
What you should do so I won’t go postal on you: Get off the plane and catch the next one because I’m pretty sure after waiting in line behind lotion fantatics, fielding dirty looks from plastic faces and hearing ridiculous complaints there is nothing that will save you from my wrath.

Feel free to print this off and take it with you next time you travel. Let’s keep the skies friendly people.

Friendly from people like me with a lot of pens and (apparently) some rage.

I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about today. It’s my last day at the prep school and although I was only teaching the little future prime ministers and computer programmers for a few weeks, they were easy to fall in love with. I’m hopefully going to be able to squeeze out a few tears before I see them, because like I told Anne, nothing is worse than doing the ugly cry with snot all over your face gently weeping a goodbye to kids, while pouring out your heart that you wish them all the best and they keep looking to see if it’s home time yet.

It just hurts the ego.

I had told my mom this and she said she would send me something to cheer me up. Thus dear readers, I present to you, Lucy, the happiest dog on the entire planet:

My mom’s dog had puppies a while back and Lucy was like the Sanjaya of the pack. She stood out, but all the other dogs were much better at being dogs and following rules, while Lucy just always looked happy to be alive and licking all her two thousand parts. She was the last one to be picked. Which shocked me because I’d rather have a happy dog who might be a ‘delayed learner’, rather than a dog who is as smart as Connie Chung (because today she is the epitome of smart, please try to keep up) but looks like they want to drown themselves in their water bowl.

Once I saw this, I realized today just has to be a great. If only because it’s impossible to see a smiling puppy and for it to be a bad day. It’s like those days were you find $100 bills in your pocket, those days are always great. Not that it’s ever happened to me, but I can’t imagine a day like THAT ever going downhill.

Enjoy, have a good weekend and buy me a present wear some sunscreen.

* Looking for a little more ’substance’ in a post today? I read this and felt like I needed to brush up on my writing skillz. Take a peek!

Part II of the genius stolen from Brookem

I Love…
myself (don’t hate me because it was the first thing that came to my mind,- I was raised this way), my family (because if I said ’shoes’ next that would look reeeally bad), seeing potential, the smell of suntan lotion, books that make me cry (HP fits in here!), people who make me think, *a man with a plan, this poem, Friday nights when I’m sleeping by 10pm, hot showers on cold mornings, the face a child makes when they finally understand refraction, my friends, this painting, rootbeer in glass bottles, the feel of clean sheets, dirty jokes, songs that feel like they were written about my life, Fridays, the mysterious allure of Kevin Costner, shoes!, when I get what it’s all about, people who are witty to the point of genius (ie. Jon Stewart).

I Ache…
(sadly) after an hour of really intense gym class with 37 children who have deemed me the human jungle gym.

I Always…
wake up before my alarm clock goes off, say “thank you”, blush when people make a big deal out of hearing me swear, try to give exact change, cry at weddings, ask for a blanket on a plane, think more is better, giggle when someone says ‘balls’ (because apparently I’m 9 years old), talk with my hands, leave a good tip, stop talking when I’m mad, complain about celebrity fascination but then catch myself wondering if Jennifer & Vince are ever going to get back together.

I Usually…
write too much when answering these.

I Am Not…
likely to ever stop loving the sweet K.C, really competive (unless it’s Scrabble and then I want to destroy you and all your loved ones everyone to try their best and have fun), able to lie well, faster than a speeding bullet, likely to ever beat you on a math test, eager for Friday, good at bartering, currently in love (sigh), a fan of most gluten free products.

I Dance…
often, anywhere, with my eyes closed, until I’m sweaty, as I master my air guitar, while planning my wedding to Justin Timberlake, with a passion rivalled only by those competing on “Dancing with the Stars”.

* a man with a plan refers to a well-adjusted man who doesn’t need a 5 drink minimum/an entourage/lifts in his shoes/a blackberry to feel confident enough to come over and say hi.

Sidenote: Go read this. I loved, loved, loved it and made me think. (Which, is always something I strive for, thinking that is. And loving things. Thinking and loving. Those are good things. Can you tell I’m tired from being up and it’s only 6:30 am?) Also, go WATCH this because it made me laugh. And if I can laugh on a few hours of sleep (remember, I need about 10 hours usually to be my happy and well- adjusted self, I’m sure it will make you smile too!)