I confess...I look forward to quiet, relaxing weekends. Until they arrive. Then I get all bitchfacey over having nothing to do and having no life.
I confess...that I was highly disappointed in myself last night when I realized I'm a complete idiot when it comes to my new Wii. I tried "Just Dance" and I'm afraid I looked like a frog in a blender. I was terrible at baseball, and never hit a ball. I can't throw a frisbee in real life, I don't know why I thought I could do it on the Wii. And don't even ask me about the wakeboarding.
I confess...that I sometimes listen to Kid Rock & Sheryl Crow's latest duet "Collide" in my car on repeat. I pretend I sound like Sheryl. I don't.
I confess...that I have suddenly developed a weak gag reflex. I was flossing my teeth this morning and I almost vom'd. Gross.
I confess...that I've had a scratchy throat, cough, and stuffy nose all week. I'm pretty sure it's a cold, but I've been disguising it as allergies so that my mom doesn't banish me and my germs from her house.
I confess...I only cut half my lawn this week. Stupid super-speedy-growing grass. I refuse to spend my whole summer on a lawn mower. And can you imagine how sad it would've been, when Kid Rock came calling, and I said, "Oh, sorry, can't go, I need to cut my grass." ?? No no no.
I confess...that I need a boyfriend so badly I'm ready to take drastic measures. I don't know what those drastic measures might be. But look out, boys, because I'm getting desperate.
I confess...that I had to come back and add this update because I'm questioning my use of the term "weak gag reflex". I'm thinking when you almost vom flossing your teeth, that perhaps that's a STRONG gag reflex? I don't know. Also, down below, I wrote "my most innermost", and that just doesn't sound right. It's redundant. Or something. No wonder I'm not a world-famous author.
There we have it. My deepest, most innermost confessions, laid out all over my blog for you.