but I prefer blogging. Leaving notes on facebook is like looseleaf papers that don't belong under any folder. Ew. Messy.
So, here it goes....
"Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you."
one. I hate running (because I am terrible at it), but I like the results. So, I do it anyway.
two. I hate leaving voicemails.
three. I am really bitter that some lame-o guy won the Western Club logo contest when he just stole the PBR logo and added his own words. If this were a real logo (used to sell something) I think it would be against the law.
four. I am a juice-aholic.
five. I take pictures when I am bored. I should share my Star Valley pictures from when we lived there. I got bored quite often. I have a lot of pictures.
six. I own over 50 pairs of shoes. That isn't including flip flops.
seven. I have a love obsession with food.
eight. I need to lose weight. I am 1/3 of the way to my goal!
nine. When I watch shows about fat people, I always wonder how they got so big. And then I finish my bowl of icecream.
ten. I hate folding laundry.
eleven. I can't have any white on my nails showing; I have to cut it off.
twelve. I want to someday write and illustrate my own children's book.
thirteen. I am scared of death and I don't like it when people say you shouldn't be if you have "everything in order". It frankly doesn't matter. It's like moving, but bigger. Dying is freaky. For that matter, so is birth.
fourteen. I hope to someday have curtains. What a dream.
fifteen. I used to get in trouble in elementary for beating up kids on the playground. They made fun of me for being small. I showed them.
sixteen. I want a cherry tree.
seventeen. I cannot for the life of me play monopoly and not get mad. I dispise that game.
eighteen. I own a really dumb guinea pig. She has discovered the vertical sliding door blinds and is quite entertained by figuring out how to go behind them when they're shut. Stairs frighten her; I left her on a step for 20 minutes to see if she'd go down, but when I came back she was cowering in the corner.
nineteen. I love
Elvis
.
twenty. I sometimes pretend I am on the Truman Show while doing my day to day things. You should try it.
twenty-one. I am going to attempt to grow an avacado tree. We'll see how that goes...
twenty-two. I'll admit to liking country music. Dang you, Michael.
twenty-three. About every night for a week I thought about punch-dancing before going to sleep. We finally had to watch Hot Rod one night. I haven't thought about it since...well, except for right now.
twenty-four. It's almost been about 8 months since Michael has done the dishes. I am lucky if he takes it to the sink. I am really lucky if he rinses. Lately he's been much better (thank you, ant invasion). But I don't have a job or anything else to occupy my time with, so I do them.
twenty-five. I am a control freak.
I have a hard time watching people do something that I am trying to explain without jumping in and doing it myself. I feel bad everytime Michael tries to help make food. We have to make seperate dishes.
twenty-six. okay...I know it was supposed to be 25, but help me to not chop my hair! I really miss my faux-hawk. I am trying to grow out my hair...longer than shoulder length.
If you read this, consider yourself tagged. HA!