Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I play a little game with myself. I go through the entire alphabet and pick out an animal that begins with each letter. (Aardvark, baboon, chinchilla, dingo, elephant, you get the idea.) Hell, I’ve even got an animal that starts with an ‘X’: xerus–a type of ground squirrel that lives in Africa. It’s harder than it sounds. YOU try coming up with something that starts with an ‘I’.
The answer is ibex, bitches.
So today I’m going to play a version of that game and use it as blog fodder. Because I know you wanted to know 26 completely random things about me.
A: Admitting defeat. I’m not good at certain things (math, cooking bacon, and keeping my mouth shut) and it kills me to admit it.
B: Boo. Because duh, he’s all I ever write about. The poor kid got his thumb stuck in the closet door yesterday while I was frantically getting shit ready for the impeding apocalypse–more on that later. Now he’s wearing a pretty spiffy Sponge Bob bandage of the part that got scraped and I’m trying not to panic about PUSS! INFECTIONS! THAT FINGER’S GOING TO FALL OFF! WOE!
C: Chicken nuggets. Boo would subsist solely on these mechanically separated miracles if I’d let him.
D: Drive thrus. They make me nervous. Especially those two lane ones because sweet hot damn, who is supposed to go when? I always feel like I need to inch up every few seconds just to the car to my right doesn’t cut in line in front of me.
E: Excited. I’m excited about the mini holiday Red and I are planning for the end of May. That means three days of purely adult pursuits. Oh, yes. Fun will be had.
F: Forgetful. I’m famous for losing stuff all the time. Every time we have company, I go on an OCD cleaning spree that often involves shoving shit into nooks and crannies so that our guests don’t know that we actually live in our own filth. Things I’ve lost recently: my Sam’s card, three shirts, and little pieces of my sanity. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find that last one when we move out.
G: Giving up. I’ve thought about giving up the Month of Blogging Dangerously more times than I can count. But I’ve only got three days after this. Thank God.
H: Happy. Happy because I’m almost done with the Month of Blogging Dangerously. Also happy because my site hits have risen steadily since I started writing every day.
I: Infected. Ohmygod, ohmygod, his finger is infected and it’s GONNA FALL OFF. Send in the CDC, post haste.
J: Just not good enough. Every day, I cycle through ups and downs, and every day I worry about not being good enough. I know it’s self-destructive, but I can’t help it. I’m pretty sure they make medication for that sort of thing, but I’m not going to see a doctor to be all like, “Okay, Doc. Write me a scrip for Xanax because I worry about EVERYTHING every single day.”
K: Kissing. I’m a damn good kisser thanks to all that time I spent on the band bus headed to Bumblephuck, Nowhere when I was a teenager.
L: Laughing. My laugh scares small children. Seriously. I make babies cry if I’m not careful.
M: Mistakes. I’ve made a few. Thousand. Today.
N: Need. I need to start wedding planning. But it’s scary, y’all. I don’t want people to compare my wedding to my sister’s–which was awesome and fun–because we are two different people at two different points in our lives and relationships. (Can you say, “She done got herself knocked up out of wedlock?”)
O: Out. Out of almost everything. I need to go grocery shopping, but I’ve been putting it off because I hate, hate, hate Walmart and all the Walcreatures who inhabit that store.
P: Praying that we’ll be able to find a decent house in a good neighborhood in our price range. Because I don’t fancy having my head blown off in a driveby if we end up living in the ghetto.
Q: Quails. Seriously, they’re cooking with quail eggs on Top Chef Masters right now. EW.
R: Rain. We don’t need any more. Enough is enough already.
S: Storms. We’ve had a solid week of storms, and I’m ready to spend an evening not worrying about rotating wallclouds and hail the size of an infant’s head destroying our property.
T: Tornadoes. Yesterday around 5:00 PM while Red was at work, the tornado sirens went off. I had been watching the weather all afternoon and knew it was coming, but that doesn’t mean that I was ready for it. I threw Boo, his diaper bag, and all our most important documents into the bathtub on top of a heavy blanket and then promptly went to stand outside to see if I could see a funnel. And then I told Twitter. Because I grew up in the South, and that’s what we do here.
U: Unbelievable. It’s absolutely unbelievable how much damage these storms left in their wake. A town to the north of us received SEVENTEEN inches of rain in a matter of 5 or so days.
V: Violent. These storms were frigging violent. I made Boo stay in the bathtub for a full hour before I was sure everything had passed.
W: Wallcloud. I couldn’t see the actual wallcloud because of all the trees around our house, but this is what it looked like:
I don’t care who you are, that’s some scary shit right there. We’re extremely lucky that bad boy didn’t drop a tornado right on top of us.
X: Xerox. I’ve never xeroxed my butt, but I have done my face. And my boobs. Heh.
Y: Yearning for better weather. The same system that produced the tornado warnings yesterday dropped multiple, dangerous tornadoes all over the South today. We need a break here, folks.
Z: Zzzzzzz. I’m pretty sure that isn’t technically a word, but dammit, I’m tired. And I make the rules here, so that counts.