But I figure seven random things would be easy because if I am nothing else, I am random.
1. I love saying "That's so random," even though I know that really bugs people. It's just - so true. I get on kicks where I'll say it all the time, and then it won't pop into my head for months.
2. Numbers have personality traits in my head. For example, Seven, Nine, Eight, and Three are mean, angry numbers. Four is a nice number, and so is Two. Five and Zero can be angry or nice, depending upon what other numbers are around. Six is a nice number, but sometimes it is mischevious. And so on. (I blame Sesame Street for this.) Same thing with some colors - orangey red in particular is an angry, angry color.
3. My mom used to call me the absent minded professor and it's completely apt. Once I learn how to do something technical, I can remember it forever, but I can't remember where I put things. I can never find my car keys, or my purse, or my shoes, or my coat. I used to call my husband at work to ask him where my shoes were. And that thing where you're looking for your keys, looking, looking, looking, looking, and then you discover you are holding them in your other hand? I do that all the time.
4. I love it when my husband gets a zit on his back and lets me pop it. See, half of the people who read that just got reeeeeeally grossed out, but the other half of you are like - oh, YEAH baby. You're either a zit popper or you're not. I never had bad acne, luckily. If I had, my face would have been completely and totally scarred, because I would not have been able to stop popping my own zits.
5. I hosted Book Club on Wednesday night. It was, as always, really fun. I love the women in our book club. They're all so smart and down to earth. The only reason I'm telling you about this is to prove to people that I do actually, from time to time, interact with real live humans. I know after the last post, some of you were wondering.6. As a kid, the theme from the Electric Company made me want to kill people. Really. I'd hear "HEEEEEY YOOOOOOOU GUYS" and I would be looking for knives. It just made me irrationally angry. I can't imagine if someone stuck me in an orangey-red room with the number nine written on my hand and the theme from Electric Company playing. I'd probably turn into a serial killer or something.
7. I hate my dog. Someday I will explain why. It's not that complicated though. It has a lot to do with poo. Anything that eats its own poo is quite frankly, not something I wish to be intimately acquainted with.
P.S. Yes, I just sold out to the MAN. Well, technically, to the WOMAN. I'm not apologizing. The twenty-five cents per month this will make me will come in handy right now. If Amy can cover her car payment with her ads, I'm hoping for maybe - lunch money. Or something. Also, I have a sorry excuse for a post up at FTF.