|Don’t tell me you don’t want to make out with me.|
I think it would be pretty much the same, but I’d swear A LOT more. How’s that? Sad, the life I lead. I have no secrets. I really don’t. I should start making crap up again, but quite honestly, I can’t make crap up that’s more interesting that the stuff that happens to me on a daily basis.
But I’ll tell you some of the stuff that isn’t readily available on this blog right now:
I confess that it’s been way longer than a day since my last shower and the yoga pants I’m wearing right now aren’t doing quite enough to cover the STANK. I can smell myself as I walk. It’s not good.
I wear yoga pants to school and pull my hair back like I’m going to work out. I haven’t worked out in months.
I confess that I went to bed at EIGHT last night just because I didn’t want to have to put my kids to bed. I was SURE I would wake back up after the kids went to sleep. I didn’t. But then I got all pissed off when I had to get up with Abby this morning (after 11 hours of sleep).
I confess that I DO check to see if people vote on the funny damn blog damn contest even though I say I don’t care. Because I don’t. Care. I don’t. It has nothing to do with my self esteem and my manic-depressive moods have NOTHING to do with where I am in the listing. I confess that I might be posting this just to HINT to you to vote. I confess that if someone else wrote this on their blog I’d think they were a total whore. The funny part about all of this? Is that I’ve had a bunch of “hits” from there…and what was the first post they came to? The last one about proxy baptisms and the Holocaust. HILARIOUS! RIGHT?!
I confess that I absolutely LOVE picking Abby’s boogs. She get’s the most fantastic ones. I don’t get boogers anymore. I grew out of them (or moved to places that are so humid that the insides of my nose aren’t dry for long enough to produce anything worth shoving my fat fingers up there to pick). But she’s been so sick lately that we’ve had to repeatedly wipe her nose…and it hurts her…so she’s on to me and won’t let me pick her nose. And she has the BEST boogs right now. It’s really terrible torture. Scumbag baby.
I confess that when Melissa conspired with Greta to bring me a treat yesterday I was so happy that I could have cried. But I didn’t. Because I was still pretty hateful from the hate mail I had received. But meeting Greta was AWESOME. Plus, five minutes after meeting her I had suckered her into watching my kid. Booyah.
I confess that the motivation to MOST of what I do is to find people to watch my kids. It’s not that I don’t like children, I just like having a network of people who will babysit for me when I freak out.
AND…I confess… I’d love to hear YOUR confessions. I tell you all sorts of good crap. I know you jerks can comment on this blog- because you did when things went crazy below. Lets hear it.