Mental health style

The #1 sign of depression in women?
Unshaven legs.

Not to brag, but I'm thinking of trying little French braids on mine this weekend.

Final Rejection Scene in 4, 3, 2, 1...

My marriage could have been the spokesperson for bipolar disorder. Occasional highs and sleepless nights, punctuated by tears, flying objects and black days. Our relationship lifecycle went something like this: a few months of dating, fifteen years of marriage (somehow), quickie divorce, second engagement, monster fight, then limbo after he got back from Iraq in January. I wasn’t sure what our current status was, but didn’t necessarily want to ask, so there we were in a holding pattern, with this giant purple polka-dotted elephant standing between us.

He told me this weekend that we would always be incompatible, so we should stop prolonging this, move on with our lives and look for happiness elsewhere. Freshly rejected and strangely relieved, I discovered it’s one thing to be over someone – entirely different when they are over you. After the discussion, he bought me a microwave* then we went to dinner and a movie, The Break-up. Yeah, isn't it ironic?

*some sort of odd Bostonian traditional parting gift that says "thanks for playing"?

Being alone doesn't bother me - I've had my whole life to practice - but somehow I imagined him as my security blanket, waiting in the wings for us to grow old and travel together after he improved his personality a little. Apparently, he had a different Plan B.

Cats gone wild

Approximately two hours after her last meal, Crackhead-Kennedy chews through solid plastic, in search of that elusive last crumb.

Today's Tom Sawyer

My boy's got wheels!

The car: a 1987 Chevrolet Camaro (my first serious boyfriend had an earlier model so let's hope they fixed those easily-fogging windows). It has 86,000 miles, new tires, 6 cylinders and no air-conditioning, which is supposedly a plus because the car will ride lighter and faster. I imagine WE will be riding lighter, at the very least, since it's been in the high 90's all month.

The cost: $2,400. My son paid half from his hard-earned dish-washing stashed cash, his father paid the other. I'm actually prooud of the two for setting aside their pigheadedness long enough to agree on a car, and the police weren't called once the entire weekend.

Bonus Tom Sawyer moment: since we weren't able to pick up the car until 6 p.m., my ex- demonstrated proper waxing technique ON MY CAR.

Mediaplayer: Hey Pretty Drive-by 2001 by Poe

Is that a pea in your mattress?

Prelude to a rant, the warning: I adore my sister, Quincheck. Really. She has so many wonderful qualities, and I'm so fortunate that we have a great relationship, but alas, even Princesses have flaws (or two) and sometimes it takes all my willpower not to reach out, grab her neck, dig my thumbs into her jugular and choke some sense into her (or let her pass out, then steal all her clothes).

My sister’s mom* invited me over for her birthday dinner the other night, but Quincheck was too depressed to come out of her room. Apparently, this is the first time in years that she hasn’t been out partying ‘til the wee hours of the morning with her friends on her birthday. Wah-fucking-wah.

*the second of three of my dad's wives - another tall (5'9") long-legged blonde wife of German descent. Think he has a "type"?

My sister, as a fresh twenty-four year old without kids or a mortgage payment, is obviously under the impression that life is still a party. Why shouldn't it be? She doesn't work, her parents/student loans support her, and and her good looks and a great personality have gotten her pretty damn far in life.

We were watching Paris and Nicole on a commercial a couple of weeks ago. Quincheck loves "The Simple Life", while I find it an absolutely disgusting example of how baaaaaad television can be (and I watch "Date my Mom" on MTV, so I'm definitely no tv snob). Two wealthy, spoiled girls with nothing better to do than take a break from the party circuit to pretend to work for a month. Wow. I mentioned that it was a shame they had to rely on their parents for support, that it must suck to be nothing more than a celebrity party girl, and how could they ever have pride for their accomplisments when they've done nothing. As a parent, I'm appalled.
My sister, of course, completely disagreed, thinking nothing in the world would be better.

Maybe I'm "old school" in my views...perhaps it was weird that I joined the Army to pay for my education...that I don't believe anyone owes me anything I can't earn myself. I'm not trying to be judgemental (maybe I'm not trying hard enough), but I want to know WHEN she is going to get over this "I don't do manual labor" mentality, roll up her sleeves, and get to work. And then? I want her to make me some dinner and change the kitty litter!

Sans claws?

It's too difficult to fit all my cats in their little hand-held pet carrier, so I've been taking my six cats to the vet's office in groups of two. The males were fixed last month, and today I dropped off the two females to get spayed. The receptionist was kind enough to call and leave a message where I work after their surgeries:

“The surgeries went well, your cats are fine, and you can pick them up Friday afternoon because of the declawing.”

Huh? De-claw-ing? DECLAWING?! That's like going in for a hangnail and coming out with no legs! I went through three tiers of crazy and six shades of purple, took a labored breath, then called back. I was fully prepared to suggest crazy glue, Lee press-on nails and a lifetime of free pet healthcare for this very MAJOR faux pas.

The vet came on the line and apologized profusely for the misunderstanding - he'd performed several declawings, but NOT on my felines, who will still be able to climb the kitty condo and tear up my carpet. It would still be in his best interest to give them extra kitty drugs tonight, though.

Quincheck revisited

On my half-sister's fifth birthday, she walked into her mother's bedroom and asked if she knew what day it was. Her mother, no doubt recalling the birth of the ten-pound butterball, answered in the affirmative. My sister gleefully informed her, "it's the year of five!"

Today starts the year of twenty-four.
_________________________________________________________

July 22
Are you going to eat those tots? [Getting tatted]
My sister convinced me to play hooky from work on Wednesday so we could spend the day at Panama City Beach bonding - okay, so she didn't have to try that hard to convince me...er, it might have been my idea. With our fifteen year age difference, I told her we'd stay until someone asked if I was her mother.

We lugged our big ass cooler, towels, paraphenalia and music down to the beach as a few clouds starting rolling in. [Sidenote: she's afraid of shark attacks, so she really wanted to lay out at one of the pools belonging to a beach hotel...which makes going to the beach seem rather ridiculous, if you ask me. I did manage to get her in the water up to her waist, though...before I started throwing chopped up fish guts around her]. By the end of the first hour, the sky had turned black and we were not nearly drunk enough to head home. Given my track record for all things impulsive, it should come as no surprise that we decided to get matching tattoos.

Our last name starts with a Q... as much pride as we have in it and our heritage, you would think it's a powerful, mystical name, that simultaneously inspires awe and fear. All my aunts (5 of them) and many female cousins have changed their middle names to our family name once they get married, just because we love it so much. My sister and I decided to get matching tattoos using a logo my graphic artist aunt had designed years ago that looks something like this:

We are gonna be SUCH a hit at our next family reunion.


January 03
Ask not for whom the ball drops, it drops for thee
Since childhood, I've been responsible and mature for my age. Sometimes, however - particularly with a slightly crazy younger Gemini sister visiting - I throw caution to the wind...and the fog.

12/31/2005: My sister TQ somehow convinced me to wear a little black boob-ilicious dress for our adventure New Year's Eve because it coordinated well with her sleek, backless black pant suit (and then? told everyone I had a boob job and to feel how real they were! Uh...it's called ten pounds, not silicone). Apparently, jeans and t-shirts are the southern dress code for bringing in the New Year in Alabama since we were WAY overdressed the entire evening.

We drank our beer and champagne at her mother's house until around 10:00, then decided to head to a gay bar in town (we both love techno, I might adore gay men, and she prefers to kiss girls...although she seems to be in mutual crush mode with my very male co-worker Chad). We met a couple of friendly women in line for the restroom ("Only one person may enter at a time. Strictly enforced"), but everyone there was a couple, so my drag queen sister and I kissed each other on the cheek when the ball dropped. And the champagne tasted like warm cat piss. Moving on...

We drove through thick fog to the strip club and met Chad in the parking lot. We stayed until last call, then headed to a "private" bar that stays open as long as anyone wants to drink (I'd never heard of this until I moved here, but apparently, as long as you are a "member" with a cheap cardboard name card, the party never ends. This has been my downfall many, many times).

More beer followed, then some guy that wanted my sister to pose with his band, bought us shots of Jagerbombs. I'd have to pinpoint this as the moment she checked out for the evening.

January 8
Sisters Q
I consider myself an only child, with a twenty-three year old sister (we have the same father) and a fourteen year old brother (same late blooming mother), because I was almost an adult when they came along. Instead of sharing a room, fighting over clothes, and learning social skills, I was lost in a book or setting up Monopoly tournaments for me, myself and I.

My sister left yesterday and I'm actually missing her as I find signs of her visit: her ring on my nightstand, Bud Light bottles in the bathroom, the gum stuck to my Cosmo, the black sweater with sparkles she let me borrow...(don't worry, I'm mailing you everything! Probably. Heh).

She's a true extrovert - the one in a room with the sparkly personality that people can't help but want to be near, while I've always been more introverted and reserved. I used to be envious of her ease with strangers and her comparatively easy childhood, but our struggles are simply different and I'm finally able to appreciate our similarities (like singing Van Morrison songs at the top of our lungs in the bar).

She's my anxiety-ridden, music-providing, beer-sharing, crazy-cat-lady-in-training sister and I feel a little less alone in the world with her in it.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
- James Blunt

Intoxicating

The light, the heat - I am complete.

Feliz Navidad, padre

[Reposted from last year 'cause I'm lazy like that]:

My father sends odd greeting cards...on the wrong days...with sentiments written in Spanish (which he doesn't speak).

Mainstream has never been my father's forte. He was the third child of twelve born to Irish descendants living on a small farm in Michigan - this is where I pull my right hand out and point to an area in the general vicinity of my thumb. Seven boys and five girls - they all have Irish names (Shannon, Erin, Sean, etc.) - except my dad, Tony. He was a tall, skinny kid who was usually squirrelled away in a corner, reading a library book, until his brothers found him to drag him back to reality by beating the crap out of him or throwing him off the roof. He always wanted to be a monk, surrounded by God, books, silence and maybe an alcoholic beverage or two. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I suppose, depending on how you view me), my mom never received the memo. Uncomfortable moment: doing jello shots with your mom as she tells you how insistent she was that they try (and practice) sex before getting married.

Facts and quirks:

• he wears a broken watch with no face from a motorcycle accident he was in 35 years ago
  
• he had a full scholarship to Michigan State, but left after one year to hitch hike to California
  
• an insomniac, he grocery shops between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m.
  
• he tries to keep telemarketers on the phone by talking to them as long as possible...his record is over an hour.
  
• he bought and fixed up 20 old Apple GS computers to make a computer lab in his classroom (he has a new amazing imac for himself)
  
• he's an audio/video equipment junkie - and still has Harold and Maude and The Vanishing Point on Beta tapes
  
• he loves music, from Hank Williams to Bob Dylan to Tori Amos
  
• if you touch him from behind, duck, because he will turn around swinging
  
• he turned 60 this year and has no grey hair (of course, he does have my son for the summer, so that's likely to change).

I believe one of the biggest factors in shaping my father's life was his severe stuttering (also for his dad and two brothers). As a child, I remember making phone calls for him - he would often not be able to verbalize the "hello, is..." before the person at the other end hung up. Sometimes, he'd call back several times, hoping to get the words out, until the other person would assume it was a prankster on the other end. He is one of the most intelligent people I know, but spent close to fifteen years working at General Motors because he was too afraid of failure and could only dream of becoming a teacher.

He went through Dale Carnegie three times, started the Adult Stutterers Council and tried feedback therapy to manage his stuttering. He still pauses before words when he's anxious or stressed, but he went back to college at 42 and finally has that dream job teaching 5th graders. Apparently a late bloomer, he also got remarried last fall to a woman that completes him. Intelligent, philosophical, generous, honest, compassionate, caring and funny...I hope to be more like this old soul when I grow up.

Construction time again

I put my heart, such as it is, into most endeavors. Frustration from MSN Spaces finally came to a head after I started hearing "I can't get your page to load" and "the comments lag - again". I simplified, stripped the tweaks and moved the whistles, but it continued to give me grief more often that not. And? I don't give a single, furry, white rat's ass about XBox.

The bad news about this particular move? I don't know html. Not a lick. I'm learning some basics, because I'm obsessive like that and need something to do instead of sleep, but let's just say this is a work in progress. Suggestions, opinions and smart ass comments are always welcomed.

Other defectors participating in the mass exodus:

"Fuck MSN... Fucking commercialized graduate of myspace." - Sarah

"...I'm not sure I'm over my relationship with Spaces, but it's a bizarre love triangle between Blogspot, myself and that old whore that can not work out." - Jock

"I think this place will keep your blogging curiosity going for a wee while longer. " - Monty

"...you should keep a little dog and pony show for your family. Let everyone else read all juicy shtuff. I think I'll keep my msn spaces just for said show." - Dwayne

"I think I can safely say that this might just be the answering voice to the petulant childs griping echoing off the canyon walls of what we, once lovingly and passionately, closely followed by frustration and boredom, called Spaces." - Melissa

"I may need to take a computer Class just to learn how to blog..." - Vital

"I'm so tired of Spaces and the rediculous quirks it has. Yay! I get a new room!" - Candy

"I started out here...ahhh memories...so I guess since Dwayne busted his ass making my page all nice and shit I'll come over too (I really am sick of the More Shit Nightly blog, too...)" - Brain Salad

"I admit it. I am running away from my past. Not my ENTIRE past...just the last 8 months of my blog." - Terri

"Welcome to Level 1 new player!" - Mayor of Simpleton

"I have a strong sense to keep it real while blogging. Because of peeking eyes I used to blog more sanitized and generic which is pretty boring." - Stephen

"I am just fed up with the poor quality of service, the total lack of control over content, the number of teeny boppers, and the fact that you have to sign in with a passport just to leave a comment." - Hopelessly Aporetic

"What a long, strange trip it's been!" - Red Kitten

"But, hey, you never know, I just might post something worth reading... or not." - Kittycatlane

I guess I'm not really hiding at all. I just wanted to start fresh in a place where I might feel free to write again. Plus MSN Spaces is blocked from my work now ..." - mad megan

Crazyish Cat Lady

SUMMER: Twelve years ago, we were living in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky when a woman pulling a red ryder wagon with 6 beautiful kittens in it walked through our yard. I had only ever had male cats, but my son, being two and a temper-tantrum thrower, convinced me to take this long haired calico. Another neighbor would call animal patrol every time Summer wandered in her yard...two "arrests" later, we started hooking her up to a long leash in the front yard, where she still managed to kill birds.

Summer has moved across country multiple times, even flown to Germany (all 14 lbs of her packed in a little cat carrier, poor thing). She comes running when you call (although I think she has some arthritis setting in from when my ex- ran her over) and "sits" for cat treats. She also single-handedly decimated the mole population in Northern Michigan.

---

October 6, 2005: There's an empty space on my pillow

I can't sleep. I keep imagining her cry or a scratch at the door. I walk around the neighborhood, looking for signs of struggle, hoping to get a glimpse of her fluffy, short-legged body. She's been gone since Monday, but I refuse to give up hope.

October 30, 2005: Look what the cat/surrogate mother dragged in...

Two weeks ago I talked to a woman who wanted to know if my cat Summer could have been pregnant. I told her no, that was quite impossible because she was 13 years old, spayed and too bitchy to ever have sex. End of story? Not quite.

The mother cat, aka not-Summer, abandoned her six kittens at the woman’s house so she (Kelly) had been bottle feeding them and called me again last week to see if I might like one. She was going out of town and hod no other option but to drop them off at the pound, and she worried they wouldn’t make it (they’re about three weeks old). So I stopped by her house on the way home from work.

I talked to Kelly – it turns out she had lived in MY house a few years ago (owner #2). What could I do – this was fate. So I took a kitten (or four) home.

My son's already named one - Crackhead. I haven't given up on Summer, but she is gonna be pissed if she comes home to see four bottle-drinking, mewing fur balls in her house. I have resigned myself to being that crazy cat lady on the corner.

November 15, 2005: Formation at 1300


My dog Skylar has taken over stepmother duties for my four new kittens. When she comes into the house, the first thing she does is count heads (preferably with tongue): okay, two kittens wrestling in the kitty litter, one hanging precariously on the curtains and one in the food bowl. Yep, all play toys present and accounted for.
When I took them all outside to enjoy the beautiful weather on Sunday, I know they wanted to run and frolic through the leaves. Nope. That overprotective stepmom wouldn't even let them wander.

Operation Integration

Years ago, while married, I would compulsively shop and hide evidence in my car; embezzle out of the checking account to pay for my gambling excursions; pig out on moon pies then pop laxatives like tic tacs; and wait anxiously for him to leave town so I could once again drink beer like a rock star. He asked me once why I had to be so secretive, why I felt I had to hide who I was. It seems like the more he tried to sneak into my email, listen the phone conversations, and keylog my computer, the more I felt the need to maintain some sense of privacy and control.

I suppose I've never felt 100% comfortable sharing all of myself at one time with anyone, which may be why I've started and deleted a total of five MSN Spaces (not simultaneously) and I'm ex-frigging-hausted. Who needs to keep all the factions of their personality so separate? Not I, said Sybil.

I am: wholesome Catholic girl, slutty alcoholic vixen, snotty bitch, caring compassionate naive woman and boring crazy cat lady. I trust that people who care will be able to integrate all the facets and still love me. I'm too proud of where I've been and who I am to be anything less.

Sometimes, you've just got to Say Anything.

I'm currently attempting to grow balls big enough to invite my family here and close all my MSN Spaces. Oy.

To wipe or not wipe - the battle du jour with a rebel yell

Sure, they lead you to believe the Civil War was caused by issues such as slavery, industrial vs. agrarian society, and State's rights. I beg to differ.

Last night, the following question was asked: after sex, who cleans the man up?

My friend/coworker J., southern belle extraordinaire: I ALWAYS bring him a washcloth and clean him up afterwards.
Me: Are you sleeping with men in wheelchairs? Why can't they jump in the shower or wipe their own stuff off?
J.: It's a sign of respect. They would do the same for me, so I like to take care of my man like that.
Me: Do you wipe his ass for him, too? And I personally think I'm self-sufficient enough to insert my own damn tampons, thankyouverymuch.
J.: that's the reason you'll never be married down here, with an attitude like that.
Me: Well, I don't want to be married if it means a man can't take care of his own hygiene.
J.:YANKEE!
Me: REDNECK!

(this continued for a heated 10 minutes, untill she asked me to leave, which I did with a huff, a "FINE!" and a squealing of tires).

Michigan to Alabama: the drugs don't work

Pre-trip meltdown

Sunday morning, 6:00 a.m. phone call from my sister: "I haven't slept in three days, but if I take a sleeping pill I'll be out for ten hours and I won't be able to fininsh packing...I've had the flu and have been throwing up...I can't get ahold of my friend with the pickup truck to help me move my entertainment center and I have to be out of here by tomorrow...but I haven't closed out my bank account yet. What am I supposed to do? Follow you? Our dad yelled at me...and everyone thinks I'm a flaaaaaaake."

Me, in my calmest, no-you're-not-a-crazy-lunatic voice: "Um...no one thinks you're a flake. Did you take one of your Xanax?" (my sister has a history of serious anxiety attacks - one that required a trip to the hospital in an ambulance, which was the main reason we were driving together as she moved her life south).

Tuesday morning, we met at a gas station in Lansing, Michigan located halfway between her college and my mother's house, where I was staying. She had given her cat a tranquilizer to calm her for the sixteen hour car ride, which seemed only to work as a bladder relaxer, as her carrier was soon flooded with cat urine. We decided the cat should ride with me, since I'm calmer (or as my friend said, "the lesser of two fruitcakes") and perhaps the MEOWING wouldn't be so incessant. This worked only in theory, since my ears were bleeding by the second hour.

Our trip was relatively uneventful as we arrived in Bowling Green, Kentucky to stop for the night.

Mistake #1: we stayed in a hotel with a bar.

Mistake #2: the bar closed before we could finish our last drinks so I suggested she shove them in her purse so we could take them to our room. I think I was being a smartass, since she had ruined two phones using this specific method of drink removal in the past, but she grabbed the drinks anyway and killed another innocent phone.

We got off to a late start Wednesday, but I wasn't too concerned since I didn't have to be home until the following morning by 7:00 (I had to take my son to school and go to work). We ate, hung out at rest stops, exchanged cds and puttered our way south.

Murphy's Law dictates that her anxiety attack should occur at the most inconvenient moment possible. Crossing the Alabama State border, still having seven hours of dark, construction-coned road ahead of us, was it. She eventually calmed down, but could no longer drive so we found a hotel room and picked up some food. I gave her my cell phone, took her cat, and resumed my drive home - pulling in the driveway at 4:00 a.m. I was just in time to round up all my cats that were sitting out in the driveway (my ex-husband had stayed here for a week and decided to make them all outdoor cats - GRRRRR!), sleep for an hour, take a shower, and get to work. I'm definitely going to need a few days off to recover from this vacation.

101 things you probably didn't need to know

1. I always wanted to be an archeologist (and still do)
2. I believe in reincarnation
3. Next life, I plan on being a slutty gay man
4. I can touch my nose with my tongue
5. I'm an insomniac
6. I don't always swallow
7. I once thought I was driving to Austria, but ended up in Switzerland
8. While drunk, I've lost 6 watches
9. ....and 3 pairs of earrings
10. I'm afraid of bridges
11. I've gotten 13 speeding tickets
12. I once took a Latin exam, and wrote all my answers in Spanish
13. I can write in cursive, backwards and upside down
14. I can drink diet pepsi and imagine it's bud light
15. I can drink an Atkins chocolate protein shake and imagine it's kalua & cream
16. I've moved 45 times
17. I eat crunchy peanut butter out of the jar
18. I'm a LEO
19. I wear a sweater if it's cooler than 75 degrees F.
20. A ouji board told me I'd die at 42 - and I believe it
21. I have whole cds I can't listen to because they make me cry
22. I can ask for a beer in 6 different languages
23. I was a bartender
24. My favorite shot is a lemon drop body shot
25. My screen name at the bowling alley is "Sexy Butch"
26. I love shoes
27. .....but have ugly feet
28. I always wanted to have a little girl
29. My eyes are hazel but bright green when I'm emotional
30. I have extremely cold-sensitive teeth - sometimes I have to drink beer with a straw
31. I've never been on a blind date
32. I sleep with a FLAT pillow
33. I've broken my nose twice
34. I've never been in a fist fight
35. I've weighed from 102 to 140 lbs during the past 10 years
36. I'm shy
37. I'm an only child
38. I accidentally forgot to file my state taxes
39. TWO YEARS IN A ROW!
40. I have 6 cats
41. .......and a dog
42. I climbed a pyramid in Chichen-Itza with a hangover (and the bus had to stop so I could get out and throw up)
43. I'm quite sure I was George Harrison's greatest fan
44. My cell phone plays Fur Elise
45. Volcanoes turn me on
46. ...so do Latisismus Dorsi
47. ...and Depeche Mode's Dave Gahan's voice.
48. I eat Whoppers malted milk balls until I'm sick
49. I was a medic in the Army
50. I feed 21 cats each day

***Here's the intermission...yawn, take a little break, scratch yourself and bring me a drink while you're up***

1. I love any and every combination of purple and green
2. I'm Irish, Hungarian, German and a tiny bit Polish - when people ask, I just say IRISH
3. I was Captain of my Varsity Lacrosse and Field Hockey teams
4. I only wear thong underwear
5. I melt butter and pour it over microwave buttered popcorn
6. I used to be 5'7"...now I'm only 5'5"
7. I've had sex in a canoe
8. I have a hard time saying "I love you"
9. My ring finger is a size 4-1/2 (uh, in case you want to pop the question).
10. I consider driving a 5 speed a good workout
11. I can't parallel park
12. INXS was the first concert I ever attended...
13. Natalie Merchant was the most recent
14. I can whistle, but not sing
15. Calla Lillies are my favorite flower
16. I don't like Lord of the Rings
17. I would kidnap Tom Brady of the NE Patriots if I thought I could get away with it
18. I learned how to drive when I was 12
19. ....so my dad could drink beer in the car
20. I love reality tv shows
21. ....but would hate to be on one
22. I know 4 different versions of solitaire
23. My 400+ cds are arranged alphabetically
24. My closet is arranged by color (ROYGBIV)
25. Each of my shoe boxes has a photo of the pair inside
26. I think Angelina Jolie is HOT
27. If I had been a boy, my name would be Shane
28. I got caught cheating in 6th grade and never did it again
29. I went to a Catholic elementary school
30. I have a BS in Biology/Chemistry
31. I don't use an alarm clock (I'm automatically up by 5:00)
32. When I'm drinking, my ears turn red
33. ....and I can't find enough laps to sit on
34. One of my biggest faults is insecurity
35. Another is impulsiveness
36. And I'm an amazing procrastinator
37. I want to live in Italy
38. ....and eat gelato EVERY DAY!
39. My favorite song is Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes
40. I can't listen to it without crying
41. I don't always swallow
42. I can drive a forklift
43. I can also take out large chunks of walls with said forklift
44. I've driven 120 mph on the autobahn
45. I won $350 the first time I played Blackjack
46. I'm a virgin (just seeing if you're paying attention)
47. I can forge my ex-husband's signature
48. My first word was "existentialist" (so says my dad)
49. I chipped my bottom tooth while skinny dipping
50. Every week, I buy myself flowers and pretend someone loves me