Tennis

FUCK IT.

I've given in to peer pressure. Well, not really. It's not like I have folk clamoring for this shit or anything. But I unashamedly adore the ridiculous little lists people make about themselves. And so here I go (starting the list, anyway) in what will be today's voyage into utter self-centeredness.

100. I love sugar cookies that have crunchy icing. My mom makes the best sugar cookies w/ icing in the WHOLE WORLD and she sends them to me for Valentines day every year.

99. Before I got my cat, I knew he would be fuzzy and that I would name him Llama. So I looked for Llama for two straight weeks until I found him in a cardboard box with a bunch of other kittens. He was the runt of the litter and ever so fragile. Now he is obese.

98. I worry. About everything. Obessively so. And though the big things take up my mental space - wrecks, death, pain, etc -- I also spend a lot of time worrying about trivial things. Like the bird poop on my car and the possibility of my hair dryer going out.

97. I am faith-full but have not given myself a religious moniker. God is too big for that. Though I understand the good churches and organized religion can do for a person or a community, I also recognize how some of these organizations stifle growth and can create bigotry and hatred.

96. I eat asparagus out of the can. Cold.

95. Whenever I find out that someone suffers from anxiety or depression, I feel like I should hug them. Hug them for days. Because I wish someone had seen it in me, or, more likely, that I hed LET someone see it in me. And hugged me.

94. I remember the phone number to every house I ever lived in as a kid.

93. My degree is useless.

92. I spent my whole college career busting my ass, working and studying and working and studying so that I wouldn't graduate with an entry-level job. And I was a bad-ass. I was a writer/producer/editor for a local newstation. And then I made my last phone call I would ever make for my job. I talked to a mother who had just lost her son the day before. We needed an interview and it was my job to get it. She told me I wasn't worth the shit on the bottom of her shoe. I walked to the bathroom, sat on the floor with my back and against the door and sobbed for an entire hour. I put in my two weeks notice the next day.

91. I lived in New York for a year. I came back when I realized how unhappy it made me to be away from everyone. Amusing, isn't it? Whe spend our childhood threatening to leave the very first day we can. And then I spent a year away, trying to figure out how to get back.

90. I'm scared sometimes that God left me out of a plan.

89. I can't kill roaches because of the noise they make when you step on them.

88. I talk to myself in the car. I'm not as assertive as I sometimes think I should be, so if there's a confrontation coming up, I have to talk it out in the car and have a plan of a attack. Otherwise I stutter, clam up and then cry-- not from sadness, but from utter frustration that I can't make someone see it my way.

87. I love my nose.

86. I read everything-- backs of shampoo bottles, backs of cereal boxes, instruction manuals, textbooks and, my favorite, just plain books. I love books about science, conspiracies and future societies.

85. I think I'm slowly changing my views on children. By no means do I want them. Right now. But a year ago, that last bit wouldn't have been added on.


I think it's best to end on an easily stackable number. It would be odd to end on number 83 or 64.