I'm gonna do something crazy, from a really anal-retentive point of view. I'm going to go out of order on my blog challenge. I know, I know. Why throw caution to the wind? I can't help it. This challenge is cramping my style because I keep getting stuck on these questions that I can't find anything funny to write about. So, I'm skipping days 8-12, for now, and combining days 13 and 14 here (List five of your weakness and five strengths). Call me crazy. Or call me, maybe. (that was cheap...and dumb)
Here are just five of my weaknesses:
- I have a fear of confrontation. Don't even think for a second that if you've hurt me in some way that I'm going to confront you about it. Most of the time you won't know you offended me because instead of confronting you, I'll consider sending you an email, but think, that's what a weenie would do, and I won't want to be considered a weenie, so I'll just do nothing and avoid you instead. This is why I only have 3.6 friends and one of them is my sister (the .6 – I'm just not sure if we're friends or acquaintances, and I'm definitely not going to ask.)
- I'm a people-pleaser. I love to be liked, so I'll usually do whatever it takes to get you to like me. I'll agree to baby-sit your kids, even though I'm not really a "kid-person". I'll watch your dog, even though I'm not really a "dog-person". I might even say that I like the taste of your chili even though it reminds me of the time I toured that waste water treatment plant, and threw up at the end. I'm really trying to change it. It's even on my to do list. Along with going to the moon.
- I'm too darn popular (I was a cover girl, in case you forgot). I can't even tell you how much I hate this about me. All my fans taking pictures of me and people begging me to guest post on their blogs. Okay, maybe it was only two people, and the invitations went something like this: Dear Everyone on My Blog Email List, Can anyone, anyone, out there, please guest post for me because I'm swamped with other more important life-changing matters, like having a baby, right now. I'm begging. Anyone with a computer.
- I complain a lot. I think I've gotten better at this, but when I was in high school, I had a friend, Mike, who used to stand with me in the lunch line sometimes, and I would talk to him in my favorite form of conversation, the complainversation:“Ugh, the weather is so crappy. The sun is just too bright. Ugh. Pot-pie again? That stuff's disgusting. I wish we were having fried chicken again. When are they gonna serve fried chicken again?And he would say, “Kay-Tee...” that was my nickname (K.T.) in high school, used by him and one other person, ever, and he said it slow and with a little southern drawl, “...Kay-Tee...Why do you complain so much?”“Am I complaining?” I had to think about it. “Wow. I am complaining! I didn't even know it. I really am complaining. I need to work on that. Thanks Mike. You know what I'm gonna do?” I pulled a pen out of my Bermuda Bag and began to write on my hand. “I'm gonna remind myself to stop complaining,” and I wrote STOP COMPLAINING on my hand. I kept it there to remind myself to stop complaining and when it washed off, I re-wrote it, when I remembered, which was only when I saw Mike.
Thank the Lord for spell-check.Did it help? I like to think so. Gosh, I hope so. Did it?
- I'm too hard on myself.
Here are just five of my strengths:
- Most people consider me to be a really good dresser...in inner-Mongolia where they are all nomads and dress purely for functionality.I know you guys are getting sick of this picture. Me too.
- I'm efficient. Some might say this is a code-word for lazy. I say, who cares what you call it, when you're simply coming up with faster ways to do things.Hand-wash only dishes? I just throw them in the dishwasher. It'll be a while before they fall apart and then I'll just buy new ones. Or just never use them and then sell them in my garage sale. Or my favorite, wait until they're piled so high, cry over them on the weekend when my husband is home, reminding him that the kitchen is the equivalent to his office at work and how can I get anything done in my office when there are hand-wash only dishes piled to the ceiling? Then he feels bad for me and does half of them. He doesn't let me completely off the hook because he leaves the other half for me. He knows about my little blogging addiction.And Laundry? If you don't shower, there's no reason to change your clothes. Which equals no laundry. I believe it was David Dunham who said, "Efficiency is intelligent laziness."
- I'm a
goodgreat flosser. If my body's not clean, at least the sides of my teeth and gums are (the actual brushing part is a completely different subject). I used to be a 21 times per year flosser: The seven days before I went to the dentist, two times per year, then seven random times the rest of the year. Usually when I ate ribs or other meat off the bone, or a had a mad stalk of broccoli dangling between my teeth like a tire flap on a Mack truck.Now, I'm a 365+ times per year flosser. What's the secret to this major life-change? The dental-pik, of course. These things are awesome (I just sang the word awesome in my head like an opera singer. I love them that much.). Especially, if you're lazyefficient, like me. Where it used to take me about two minutes to floss with that two-foot long blood-thirsty twine, now it's about 20 seconds. I suppose they're bad for the environment, but I'm more concerned about the connection between my heart health and flossing than I am about the environment. At least I am now that I floss every day.
- I can be a little sarcastic. Some might consider this a weakness. I say, screw them. Just kidding. Kind of. See, that's what makes great sarcasm.
- I Pronto-Poop. Two minutes tops. That's the benefit of a (mostly) all-natural diet. My husband, he has to take a book with him, like War and Peace. (Might help to lay off the Better Cheddar bagels with cream cheese, Honey). My six-year old squats over the toilet like a baseball catcher while singing Muppet songs. My daughter still poops in diapers (or on the remote control) and my eight-year old is just like me. We bond over our pronto-pooping and make fun of the rest of the family.I'm sure my parents are cringing at this point, over the child they attempted to raise to be a somewhat successful contributor to society. I'm guessing they've already unfriended me on Facebook in order to have absolutely no connection with their, now, estranged daughter. Sorry Mom and Dad. Just keepin' it real. And it's okay to unfriend me, just keep me in the will. Thanks! Love ya!