I have a love-hate relationship with my bed. I love getting in and I hate getting out.

My dentist hates me. I’m passive-aggressive. And I love garlic and onions.

I have self-image problems. I hate the sound of my own voice. Also, I’m funny-looking when I speak. I’ve seen pictures. Overall I come across much better when I keep my mouth shut.

The number eight is hard for me to write. I also dislike typing the word “source.” They take too much time. I hate wasting time. Someone should figure out an easier way for me to complete these tasks. I have suggestions, but I’m not sure where to send them.


If everyone had a childhood like mine, we’d all be a lot better off. Seriously, the worst thing that happened to me, ages three through fifteen, was an unexpected encounter with a very small garter snake. My parents left me seriously well-balanced.

Kinda wish I’d have known that before I turned thirty… I always thought I was special. Angst-ridden. Moody, but in a special way. Dark, but not dangerous. Turns out I was just from Iowa.

Not real often, but every now and then, just for a moment, I wish I knew what I was doing.

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