What this girl puts up with . . .

One time I got a new shower curtain liner but before I hung it up I wrapped myself in it mummy-style and staggered into the living room giggling, "Gretchen, Gretchen! What movie am I from?!" (stagger, stagger)

Gretchen sighs and looks up. "I don't know, Kim." 

"Nightmare on Elm Street!" (cue my maniacal laughter, Gretchen looks back to her computer without a word)

Then I went upstairs to hang it and I fell into the tub.

I was trying to be quiet because let's not make things worse but there are some things that cannot be done quietly and falling into the tub is one of them.



And that's pretty much what it's like to live with me. 

And now for something serious. Ha! Just kidding! This one is ridiculous, too.

I usually make it a point not to talk about gentlemen friends* here because that's kind of personal and I never overshare on the blog.


(crickets)


Um, yeah, except there's this boy, you know what I'm saying? And I, well folks, I got it bad for this boy. Because this boy is a dreamboat. A real-life Adonis.

 (Not appropriate, Kim.)



But you want to know something mind-boggling? He is a grown-up. Not like a should-be-grown-up-by-now-and-therefore-does-marginally-adultlike-things-occasionally grown-up (and we don't know anyone like that, do we?), but like a real, live grown-up. He's got prospects. He's bona fide.**


And guess what you do when you're in a Grown-Up Relationship?
-talk about stuff
-share a donut
-smooch
-never, ever tell him that you think sandwiches are "fancy food"
-hit him with a pillow
-embarrass him in front of his step-mom
-other stuff too


Also, did I tell you that he pinched my bottom the other day?

(That's how you know it's true love.)
 
And then I giggled like a madwoman because, I mean, what would you have done?



(Yes, that is an example of an overshare. Thank you for playing.)


The end.

---

*Unless it is hysterical.

**Please tell me you get that reference. (You have to imagine me saying it in a Southern accent.)

Making Connections

Sometimes when I'm reading in the Book of Mormon, I say to myself “Oh! I remember this part from Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites!”


And all I'm wondering is, well, is that bad?

Deeply Embarrassing Confession #61

I saw Moulin Rouge seven times in theaters. Seven.

I've been holding onto this information for a decade.


 
I feel like we've accomplished something important here today.

Yes, I *am* getting older. Thanks for pointing it out, June. Thanks a lot.

So, it's my birthday again. And I had a post all ready about how I'm getting old, and how this birthday is one I've been dreading for a while, and then I was going to link this song and talk about how I'm pretty much elderly and decrepit now and I'm probably going to die alone.

But then perspective came along and I realized I'm young and hot and awesome.

At least that's what I thought until I examined the receipt after I bought some dry ice the other day.

Oh hell no you did not just age verification bypass me.

And don't you argue with me.

I'm going to believe that all those people staring at me in the grocery store today couldn't take their eyes off me because of my breathtaking beauty, easy elegance and general hotness.

I don't think they even noticed the smear of toddler snot on my shirt.



That's what I'm going to believe.

Mawage, that bwessed awangment.

We live in a strange world. A world where it's fashionable to be cynical and pessimistic. A world where everyone always expects the worst, where trying really hard to make something work is laughable.

But the truth is sometimes nice guys finish first, and sometimes it all works out in the end, and sometimes people do the right thing.

And you know what else?

Sometimes true love really does last forever.

Happy 30th Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

I love you.

That song remains my power, my pleasure, my pain.

No matter how many times I've heard it, every time "Kiss From a Rose" plays on the radio I am instantly 14 years old and swaying awkwardly with a sweaty boy in the school gym.


Man, I love that song.


Also, let's explore the radio presets I have in my car, shall we?

1) 89.1: classical station
2) 90.1: NPR
3) 94.1: oldies station
4) 100.3: soft hits station
5) 101.5: country station
6) 106.5: lite rock station

So the question is, am I a billion years old?

(And, yes, the stations are set in increasing numerical order. Everybody does it like that. Right? Right?)