Confession Time

I feel like it’s time that I got a few things out there that have been on my mind, I just haven’t yet shared with y’all. Consider this a bloggified version of a Southern Baptist confession. Trust me; I’ll feel better when I just get it all out there! Here goes:

• I’m mildly concerned that before this health care “reform” stuff comes to a vote that I’m going to be arrested for disorderly conduct for protesting. Loudly.

• I’ve been guilty of dusting my office with one of those cans of compressed air that are intended to clean your keyboard. I feel kinda “Charlie’s Angelsish” with that ice cold can in my hand!

• I think I have freezer burn on my right hand from dusting my office this morning.

• I gave Jackson a blue Airhead right before he went to the dentist last week. I then felt like a total idiot having to explain to the hygenist before they went back why Jackson's tongue and teeth looked like he just finished eating a Smurf.

• I drive myself crazy by avoiding stepping on cracks. Oddly enough, it seems to be that Jackson has inherited this trait from me.

• I walk in step with people, even to the point that I make sure our stride and lead food match. I'm strange. I know this.

• I like to drink real Coke.

• I would be perfectly content to eat a bowl of white rice with butter for suppper if I'm alone and don't have to worry about vegetables for Jackson's sake.

• I feel better about myself and my house after watching an episode of Hoarders on TV.

• I loathe Hardees, Geico, and Progressive insurance commercials.

• I’m a Chap Stick junkie. I seriously go into panic mode if I realize that my lips feel dry and I can’t find a tube of Chap Stick. I almost pulled off the road the other day when I was driving because I couldn't find my Chap Stick fast enough.

• I’m missing a bag that has all 3 of my swimsuits in it. I don’t need it now, but I’m consumed by finding it. The last time it was seen was on our cruise, and I pray to goodness that it wasn't left on the ship. Jeremy told me that I should just go buy another swimsuit. I looked at him like he had was crazy because seriously, does he know what goes into buying a swimsuit. It’s like a fluorescently lit, Lycra clad nightmare walking into those dressing rooms.

• And I always, no matter what, pick skittles over M&M’s. I’m a traitor to the female species.

There. I feel better now.

Anything you need to confess?