Tagged indeed. This is a new facet to the blogtopia of which, thus far, I have been unaware. I do have my doubts, being a complete grouchy-ass about all things resembling chain letters. Nothing pisses me off more than to get a mail that I am supposed to forward to 872 people before I spontaneously combust. However, I don't want to be a spoilsport and so from whatever miscellaneous person to rich girl/poor girl to strangeafeet to katydidz to me, here is the topic with which I was presented (I'm kind of having a kick out of odd prepositional phrasing for some reason) and my responses.
Complete five of the following statements, and then tag three others to do the same:
If I could be a musician, If I could be a doctor, If I could be a painter, If I could be a gardener, If I could be a missionary, If I could be a chef, If I could be an architect, If I could be a linguist, If I could be a psychologist, If I could be a librarian, If I could be an athlete, If I could be a lawyer, If I could be an inn-keeper, If I could be a professor, If I could be a writer, If I could be a llama-rider, If I could be a bonnie pirate, If I could be an astronaut, If I could be a world famous blogger, If I could be a justice on any one court in the world, If I could be married to any current famous political figure
If I could be a musician I would want very much to be one in the style of Joan Jett. She is the rockinist gal around, in my humble opinion. Probably one of my favorite all time summer activities is to drive around with all the windows down, playing "I Love Rock and Roll" at ear splitting decibels, and sing like it ain't no thing. I often tell my students, when they ask why I chose to be a teacher, that it was either going to be teacher or rock star--and ultimately, I decided to go with teacher. They think this is a joke, but it's totally true. My big sis and I plan, in our next lives, (after raising little Buccaneers with Johnny Depp) on starting a band called "Liquid Evil." (It is very important to pronounce the "Evil" part as "EE-Vill", rhyming it with the phrase "we will" not "we pull." We've decided that our first album will be called Debauchery. Damn. Maybe I should have gone with rock star.
If I could be an athlete, I would be on of those HOT HOT HOT soccer playing chicks that I see practicing at the field by my house. Long blond ponytail--shin guards--tight ass in the shiny soccer shorts. I had a brief stint as a soccer player when I was 12. Chubby 12. Awkward as ass 12. Glasses wearing, fantasy novel reading, bad hair-cut 12. I had no business playing soccer. The team was co-ed. My dad was assistant coach. I remember hearing people watching the games saying, "Someone really needs to let that little chubby girl sit out and have a drink. She is bright red. I'm afraid she is going to faint." Why I was playing soccer and why my dad was assistant coach, I seem to have blocked out of my mind completely. If it was his idea, I certainly hope that he gets what is cosmically coming to him for it. If it was mine, I think I already have.
If I could be a llama rider, I suppose I would try ASAP to find something a bit more streamlined and less, umm, lama-ish to ride.
If I could be a psychiatrist I would try and figure out why for the past week, I keep having these bizarre apocalyptic sex dreams. I hardly ever dream, and I almost never have nightmares--but for the last few nights, my subconscious has been totally effed up.
OK--so that's 4 not 5, but I just can't go any further.
So--Kodi, Patrice and Paul (Jen--give him a heads up--will you?) TAG--You're it!
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Actually, one of Sophie's favorite games is tag, and any other game that includes running and screaming. When I ask her what she did at school, her first response is usually, "Played tag and chase and race." I love how she understands tag only as much as she will poke you and yell "Tag! You're it!" and run away. However, if you poke her and say "tag" she's pretty much lost. It's fun to watch her learn the ropes of being a kid.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The elbow trauma continues. I hate knowing that she's hurting, and being able to do very little about it.
4 comments:
Ok--my feelings are totally hurt (she said with equal parts self absorption and low self esteem). No one has ANYTHING to say about my Joan Jett obsession, pitiful soccer performance, or weird sex dreams?
See how dependent you've become on the citizens of Blogistan?
Your soccer memories remind me of my eight seasons as the slowest player on my team. Oddly, the two (widely separated) seasons my dad coached were my two favorite years, even though they were probably the worst teams I was ever on (he only coached because no one else wanted to) and I know in hindsight the experience made him miserable because he's just not that kind of people person.
A weird sex dream about Joan Jett, now THAT would have been something...
Howdy.
Hey, do you get notified when someone puts a new comment (even if it's a past blog) or do you have to check?
Anyway, great time last weekend. SO GLAD we came up. Thanks for the invite.
Okay, Joan Jett. Light of Day, dig it.
Soccer. I played at the YMCA when I was a kid. Goalie. Loved it. Barely moved the whole game.
Reason for this comment: I had to chuckle that amongst your other profanities, you used "effed-up" describing your dreams.
Okay, I'm it. I'll get something up soon. And I'm planning on beefing up my blog. Not that anybody visits mine that we don't all know, but I'll plug you anyway.
MWAB--If you go into settings and then comments, you can check a box and you'll be notified by email if you have a new comment. Also, I had an effing good time at the cabin too. :)
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