What’s the worst type of physical pain you’ve ever felt? Was it a broken bone? Passing a kidney stone? Giving birth? A wax job gone awry? For me it has been any and all oral pain, but I’ve suffered many a strange affliction. Continue reading
What… you don’t have a birthday tutu? Huh… weird.
Hello and welcome to my blogging birthday party hosted by me, the hostess with the mostest, the birthday gal!
Now before you make yourself comfortable, I have to ask that you make your way to the nearest sink and wash your hands; we are in the midst of a global pandemic–can’t be too careful. While you wash your grubby mitts, you must sing happy birthday (x2) to me, Bex, loud enough for me to hear. I’ve been singing it to myself for the past week and a half and my hands are practically sparkling. Feel free to continue this process after today.
1. What was your favorite childhood book? Go dog. Go!
2. What was your favorite TV show as a child? Rocket Power
3. What book did you read in secret as a kid? Next question…
4. What album and CD do you love and know by heart? So many, but I’m going to say Avril Lavigne’s Complicated.
5. What book did you hate as a student? George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four-Bleh! Continue reading
To continue on from my previous post, another fun fact about me is when I have spare time I clean. Or at least that’s what happened the other morning. I got ready for work and had some extra time, so I broke out the Windex and cleaned a mirror. Once the mirror was all shiny and dust-free, I caught a glimpse of 2 white hairs sticking straight up in the forefront of my luscious locks. Just in case you don’t know, I’M ONLY 27!
… is that she is calm in the storm and anxious in the quiet.
Greetings my friends. I feel like I’ve been away for so long. Apologies. I’ve just been livin’ it up in the real world. Becky nominated me for the Mystery Blogger Award and though I haven’t participated in an award ‘ceremony’ in a while, I figure it’s a good way to pop in and provide some content on this ‘ol blog for those who are itchin’ to hear from me.
When I was
younger more naive, I associated coming of age with a number. Depending on how old you were determined your level of kid vs. adult. Age nine and below, you are a kid; plain and simple. Then you have this weird purgatory of not really being a kid and definitely not a teen, but as soon as you turn 13, doors just start to open for you. Not literally though–that’s just what my little brain told me. Continue reading
When I first started flying, I had my own personal pilot. My ex obtained his pilot’s license in the middle of our on-again-off-again relationship which meant free flights on the weekends to neighboring airports. It was fun to be able to hop on a plane and take off with no real destination in mind, no required hoops to jump through with TSA, and no hassle of what to pack for the trip; just grab a pair of sunglasses, a set of headphones (the aviation kind), and away we went. Continue reading