The time has come

I cannot believe I am about to say this. Brace yourself people. These words do not come easy for me.

I am ready for kids. Or, a kid. Whatever.

This is the last you will hear mention of it though. I will not:

1. Obsess about it and tell everyone that we are a) trying or b) practicing. Who says we are and, frankly, no one wants to hear that.

2. Point out every baby when we are in public and say how adorable they are and how I want one now, right now. This very second. Get me one. I.want.a.baby.

3. Just because I am ready for them still does not mean that I like yours. Kenny and I will still roll our eyes at your ill-behaved spawn. Since we don't have kids yet, this is still completely acceptable.

If/when it happens, it happens. I have just decided that I am ok with it now. It would be really great to have a kid or two and raise them with Kenny. They would have to be tough little cookies though because as many of you know, Kenny hurts kids. Not on purpose, it just happens. Anyone remember Cole and the matador? Poor kid. Never saw it coming.

I love crazy people

I love this blog. It is one of my favorites. The lady is nuts and fantastic and hilarious. This particular one made me start to think of my own neuroses...here we go. These are just a few. Good Lord.

When I go for walks, I always tap the tips of my fingers together on the beat that I am walking and usually to a song (in my head ofcourse).

I can only have the radio and tv volume on certain numbers. I am a fan of 5,7,10, 12, 15, 17, and 20 for the radio. Usually 15, 17, 21, 23, or 25 for the tv.

I can walk into any room in my house and I will know if something is missing or was moved 1/16 of an inch. It's like a messed up game of memory. Don't mess with me if you visit and move my stuff. It will ruin my day.

I cannot STAND the smell of maple syrup, but I could probably drink a gallon of it every single day of my life.

All my clothes in my closet are organized by category and color. Shirts, tank tops, jeans, etc...I even do it to Kenny' s closet. He could care less, but it makes me feel better.

It drives me crazy when Kenny doesn't hit the clear button on the microwave after he takes his food out. Like if he takes it out with 3 seconds to go and the next time I try to see the time it says 00:03.

It disgusts me when people pull on their skin. Like, when people hang cinderblocks from chains attached to their nipple rings or just pull down on their neck skin.

That's how I roll people. Leave me alone.