his post has nothing to do with my dog. because, why would it? but here's a picture of her summing up how i feel about january. blergh. oh! interesting fact 5.1: i only sometimes like my dog. those sometimes are when a. i am with someone and trying to show off my warm and fuzzy side and b. ...shoot. maybe i only like her then.
at five thirty, i marched in the door from work and told jeff all about my plans for the night. i was going to go to the gym and try to improve my swimming skills (i'm convinced my mother ripped me out of swim lessons too early leaving me floundering and gasping for breath at pool parties galore) once and for all and then i'd pick up some groceries? read a book? cook an actual meal? the world is my oyster!
but first, nap.
six (seven?) hours later, here i am. finally waking up from that nap.
the thing is, january is a rather uninspiring month. in fact, january sixteenth was declared the most depressing day on planet earth. and other people agree! talking about how lame january is is the new chevron on the blogosphere. but isn't it the truth? just today i tweeted that i would rather have a month full of mondays over january. did i just break a rule there? is it weird to talk about outside social networking activity on other social networks? ...probably not as weird as it is to ask rhetorical questions to yourself on your blog.
anyways, in the effort to make myself seem more interesting, let's play a game? this is going to be one of those real self-indulgent games where the game ends after my turn and it was clear i only played the game so that i could share my thoughts and feelings. and the game is called...
five things you probably don't know about me and, subsequently, probably won't care to know:
1. i'm a born thespian. which looks an awful like born lesbian and sometimes when i'm watching movies featuring gwyneth paltrow, emma stone, or meryl streep, i really think i could be. but no, a thespian. i had my first acting gig when i was nine as the little girl in a play called the doll house at the college near my house. i had one line and i'm fairly certain i cried my way through it. stage fright, it's real. i've been acting never since.
2. during my senior year, i ate a beet for lunch almost every day. on that note, i think i'm three-parts rabbit. at parties, i strategically place myself right by the crudite platter and go wild; ranch dripping, carrot bits flying...i'm a party.
3. i'm a political machine. i had my first taste in politics as the sixth grade school president. wait...as i typed that out it doesn't feel right...a part of me believes that i lost that election and am just trying to surpress those thoughts? perhaps? i did! i think i did! and now i am remembering i lost the election in eighth grade too. my running mate was my friend jordan and we made these terribly obnoxious posters and confidently plastered them all over the school...only to realize we had been blown away be our competitor and people found our slogans a bit...annoying. ha!
anyways, i was always involved in the student body in some way....some how. i just might be one of the most forgetful and lazy people i know, so it was always a good mix. my selling point during my speech for senior class president was my mom is kim mosman! and we all know she will plan some great reunions and class parties! in retrospect, it was all sorts of pathetic.
4. i went through a blonde moment. let's not talk about it.
5. i misspelled my middle name well up into my teen years. it wasn't until memorial day when we were visiting my grandfather's gravesite that i realized it. it was a tender moment, really. we were all reminiscing and admiring the new headstone when i became dumbstruck and just. kept. staring. my dad patted my back and asked if i was doing okay? ...is that really how grandma spells her name? b-a-r-b-a-r-a? it definitely lightened the mood. sure enough, i had been spelling my middle name b-a-r-a-b-a-r-a on all of my documents and papers up until then. great.
and now, off to try, try and sleep. and dream up my next political campaign.