And if you didn’t get enough yesterday, here’s more . . .
80. I can not stand to fly anywhere. I hate flying. I’m 25 years old and I still cry every time I get on a plane. I cry the whole flight almost. Luckily, I have always flown with friends or family, or been lucky enough to have a very sympathetic male next to me. 3 out of 4 times, it has been a member of our American Armed Forces. The last trip, the male next to me was an Army man. He was WONDERFUL. He was 28 and when he noticed me crying he grabbed my hand and said “You need to know, if it were socially acceptable, I would be crying too. I hate to fly, but I do it almost every weekend.” We got into a long conversation (which consequently took my mind completely off the flight) and it turns out he is stationed in Texas, but his wife (also in the Army) has some high profile appointment in Washington, D.C. (which is where we were headed) and he flies there every weekend to be with her. Love like that is what makes me keep dating.
79. I always sleep better in hotel rooms than in my house. I have discerned that this is because I turn the air conditioning down to 60 and I refuse to do it in my own house because the utility bill would be $800 a month. I always sleep better in the cold.
78. I spend all year waiting for cold weather. I love the cold. I hate heat. You can always put more clothes on, you can’t always take enough off.
77. More about shoes. I love high heels. I would wear 3" stilettos everyday if I could. However, the wreck in December that broke my hip combined with the wreck in February that tore the ligaments in my ankle has effectively prevented me from wearing heels. My doctor has ordered that I not wear heels for at least a year. I sometimes cheat and wear them when I know I won’t be on my feet long, but when I do that, I quickly understand why the doctor doesn’t let me. My hip and ankle then ache and intermittently send shooting pains through my body for days afterwards.
76. I hate clowns. Clowns are scary beyond all reason. They are, quite possibly, Satan’s minions sent to earth to win over the souls of small children.
75. The more I drink, the more critical I become of other people’s attire. I am the one you see in the bar saying to her friends, “Ummm, why is that girl in plaid ANYTHING? Let alone a shirt. I’m fat, you don’t see me in plaid . . . because it’s a BAD idea!”
74. I am addicted to books (see # 84). I think it’s inherited from my mother. We will pour over book stores for hours. We have SO many books that we had to spend 3 weeks typing a list of all the books we had, alphabetizing them and putting them in a binder that we could carry with us at all times – to prevent us from buying books we already had. At last count, we had 3,868 books.
73. I am addicted to music almost as much as books. I have 4 full binders of CDs. Those binders hold 250 CDs each. My music taste is entirely eclectic. I like EVERY genre and have music from the 50's on up. Generally, I can tell you the name of the song and the artist who sang it within five seconds of hearing any part of it. I’m not sure if I’m proud of this fact or ashamed?
72. My closet is interesting to see. I have about 35 black shirts and then only 2 or 3 of every other color. I love black. It’s classic, it’s slimming and it never goes out of style. I also have about 35 deep red shirts. Because that’s the color of my two favorite football teams and I have to have an assortment to chose from when I go to a game.
71. I think I would be a happier person if the health insurance companies in this country all went bankrupt. I pay $350 a month for health insurance that NEVER pays for anything. They were the ONLY health insurance company that would take me, considering all my pre-existing conditions (see # 96), and have denied anything to do with my pre-existing conditions and my “reproductive system” in general. And somehow they manage to tie EVERYTHING to my reproductive system. They won’t pay for my migraine medication because they say the headaches are tied to a hormone imbalance which is caused by the removal of my ovary which therefore makes it a reproductive problem. That is the most NORMAL example of what they won’t pay for. I could give you a veritable butt ton of weird off the wall examples of things they won’t pay for and I still have no idea how they manage to tie them to my reproductive system. I spent almost $3000.00 last month paying medical bills my insurance denied payment on.
70. My brother is the most naive person in the world. This is partly my fault and partly my parents. We love him more than anything and do everything for him. Everything. Example: About 5 months ago I took him to the bank and helped him open his first checking account (he’s 21). A few weeks ago he calls me in a panic: “How do you get more checks?” “What??” “I’m out of checks! Don’t they like send you some every coupla months?” “Umm, NO, brain child, you actually have to get them yourself.” “How?” “What????” “How? How do I get more checks?” “You go down to the bank and order them.” “They don’t just have some??” “Umm . .. NO.” “How long do they take?” “About 2 weeks.” “What do they expect people to do until they get here??” “They expect people to order them when they SEE they are running out. NOT after they have already run out.” “That sucks.”
69. My family is completely dysfunctional. ONLY because we are the most functional family I know. When I lived at home, all four of us sat down every night and had a home cooked 4 course meal. You drank milk with this meal. You had no other choice. Milk is good for you. You drank milk. My mom is my best friend. My dad is my brother’s best friend. My brother lived with me until April; he now lives less than 2 miles down the road. He’s still at my house more than he’s at his own. The whole family gets together at least once a month. In the fall, this normally revolves around a weekend at my house and attending at least one football game. Two if our favorite (the Arkansas Razorbacks) and my alma mater (University of Central Arkansas) stagger their games so we can get to both.
68. I dance around in my car. And sing at the top of my lungs. I didn’t realize how odd this must look until the other day. I was cruising down the interstate bouncing around my vehicle when my cell phone rang: “What the HELL are you doing?” “Huh???” “It’s Stephen. I’m in front of you on 630, what the hell are you doing bouncing around? Is there a spider on you?” Properly chastised, I reply: “Umm . . no . . .I was, uh, dancing.” “Oh sweetie, don’t ever do that again. People probably think you’re having a seizure in your SUV.”
67. That being said, I am a relatively good dancer. Just, apparently, not when I’m limited to the confines of a vehicle. I love to dance. I miss dancing. Hard to dance with a bum hip.
66. I didn’t learn how to apply make-up until I was 23. I still rely on Birdie to apply my make-up if we are going out. It just looks so much better when she does it. When I do it, I look human. When she does it, I look SuperModel extraordinaire. She’s VERY lucky that I don’t run over to her apartment every time I have a date.
65. When I was 21, I had a house built. I was finishing up undergrad and could no longer live in the free dormitory (thank God for academic scholarships!) And refused to throw away money on rent. Especially not when I could pay for a house for the same amount of money every month. I love my house. I especially love that now that I think it’s too small, I can sell it for $50,000.00 more than I paid to have it built. I know this because I had it appraised. God bless the Real Estate boom.
64. I cried like a 3-year old when I signed my mortgage papers. I was a bit naive. I thought a $100,000.00 house was $100,000.00. I didn’t realize that in 30 yrs all the interest built up and up and up and that the paperwork would reflect that my $100,000.00 house was actually going to cost me $250,000.00. When I saw that figure, it was Niagra Falls on my face. My parents pulled me outside and practically screamed, “Those had better be tears of happiness!” and I screamed back “I’m 21 years old and a quarter million dollars in debt!!” They both laughed until they were crying, too. I didn’t see the humor.
63. Driving is cathartic to me. In college, especially graduate school, I would just drive for hours with the windows down and what I called “Driving Music.” It could be anything from Ani Difranco to Metallica to Miles Davis to Simon and Garfunkel. It just depended on my mood. I wore out two particular CDs: Candlebox and Depeche Mode.
62. I have had 4 long term relationships and an engagement. The engagement was to a real shit of a man, but I am still hung up on him to this day. We still talk about three times a week. I would never be stupid enough to get involved with him again, but I can’t say that I don’t still wonder “What if . . . “
61. My favorite drink is skim milk. A close second is a margarita.
60. I had a nervous breakdown in highschool. I felt like everything was my responsibility and I didn’t know how to tell people “No.” I was way over-extended in my obligations and trying to maintain valedictorian status. It finally hit rock bottom one night when my parents woke me up at 7 PM (I had apparently come in from school and just passed out laid across their bed) and I screamed: “I wish I was stupid! I want to know why I couldn’t have been born stupid! NO ONE expects things of stupid people! I can’t take this anymore, always having to be the best, always having to help everyone, always doing everything!” I still wonder sometimes if it wouldn’t be better to be ignorant. Ignorant people seem so much happier.
59. I long to be a writer almost as much as I long to be a doctor. I have written a million poems, two million short essays and some very lengthy “short” stories based on my life experiences. I took several creative writing courses in college and my teachers were constantly trying to get me to submit my work for publication. I never did it. Not because I don’t think it’s good enough . . . but because some of it - the best of it - is very graphic. I don’t want my parents reading it and saying “My daughter’s a freak.” Maybe when they leave this earth, I’ll become a writer.
59 is a prime number, right? Right. Sounds like a great place to stop.