I Don't Even Recognize Myself ANYMORE.

I finally read my first post back (you know the one that read like projectile vomit?) and realized I used 'their' in place of 'they're'. 

I would NEVER misuse those words.  The they're/their/there conundrum is the bane of my existence.  I've always prided myself on knowing the difference.  The fact that I made that mistake should prove that I've hopped the train to Crazy Town, never to return again.

What have I become?!?!

P.S. Despite the fact that I said I wasn't going to edit that post, I did.  I can't handle someone, someday, reading my brilliance and then scoffing at my grammar ohgawd there's the grammar police error and writing me off like some under-educated buffoon.  K? Thx.

A Visual for Your Monday

Because reading about having babies to scare myself is the birth control I'm using these days, I read this:

"You can gently express a few drops of breast milk onto and around your nipple to help the baby hone in on its intended target."

Because I'm mature and stuff, I imagined myself trying to use one of my boobs to spray (ahem, express) milk onto my other boob so my kid will eat.  The milk came out like water from a garden hose with one of those spray attachments.

 

 See?  I'm totally mature enough to have a baby.

This post brought to you exclusively by Sarcasm. 

And Unicorns.

in which i complain (stop with the eye roll)

I miss this blog.

Moving to Wordpress was dumb because it's for people willing to spend money on their blog, learn code or pay someone to learn code, or whatever and I think it's for people that want a load of people to read their blog because it's full of awesome-ness and stuff.

This is not full of awesome-ness.  This is me trying to figure out what the hello kitty I'm hoping to put out for the world.

Let me tell you right now I have a headache.  Monster.  It's because I churned out an English paper today that was due yesterday and I started this paper and finished it TODAY.  I had to pause my DVR-ed Project Runway like 57 times to write a paper on the Jung Personality Traits and the Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator and how your personality type relates to your writing style.

I'm an ENFJ.

It means I don't write well when given restrictions and deadlines.

Duh. 

Anyone who has read this blog should already know that.

You know what is scary?  This countdown to the wedding is also a countdown to when I can get knocked up.  Knocked up without getting in trouble.  Knocked up and responsible for another life.  A life that you either have to take with you everywhere or find someone to watch it while you're gone.  That is scary.  No alone time.  No doing stuff on your own.  EVER AGAIN.

I dropped my math class.  Again.  I figure if I drop it enough they are bound to give me credit for it someday.  Right?

Three months til the wedding.

Two months-ish til Thanksgiving.  I won't be eating. 

One month til I turn 26.

Finals are the week of the wedding.  Because timing is awesome and stuff.

I'm doing Weight Watchers again.  I decided to start today.  I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a binge eater, so the plan is to have healthy 0 point stuff on hand so I can cram it all in.  Carrots.  Green beans.  Cabbage.

Engagement pictures are next weekend.  If she doesn't make me look like I lost 100 lbs (putting me at the weight of a ten year old or something) I'm gonna be pissed.  And I'll probably cry.

I'm not gonna read this back.  I'm just going to post it.  This keyboard diarrhea is for me... if I read it over I'll  not post it all.  I think I need to post it.  This means no spell check so I have no idea what you're getting.