Ten Things That Make Me Happy
Yes, I was blog tagged by Aspiring Mama, and while it was tempting to drive to her house and smack her just ignore her, I thought maybe I would show a touch of generosity and pass this fun on to others. Aren’t I just a peach.
So, in no particular order (because I’m going by the seat of my pants and not pre-plotting this) here is my forced post:
Ten Things That Make Me Happy
10: Driving
I love driving, especially a stick-shift. I am all about my little Scion with a reinforced frame so I can take corners in 3rd gear–which I do, as often as possible. Don’t worry, I’ve only been in one accident and it was not my fault whatsoever. The only time I’m dangerous is when I’m listening to Rammstein, or have just been playing Mario Kart…look out for shells if that’s the case.
9: Having my nails done
Seriously, nothing makes me feel more like woman than having a full set of fake nails. I’m sure it all stems from my mother. No, it really does. She always had a gorgeous set of REAL nails when I was growing up and I never forgave her for not passing those on. I mean, she made sure I got her skin (THANK YOU!), but she couldn’t see to put her fingernail gene into my egg?
8: Morphine and Vicodin
Don’t judge, I just had major surgery.
7: My Laptop
I love being able to Tweet write where ever I wish. Having the freedom to step away from the desktop and curl up in my favorite chair with my earbuds was well worth the $300 I spent on my laptop. Not to mention, it made splitting up the computer stuff in the divorce a lot easier.
6: My Critique Partners
There is so much than can be said about people who are willing to take your most precious act of writing and rip it to shreds. MINE ROCK! They have pushed me to hone my craft, to keep writing, to not settle for schlock, to ask for just that much more from my characters and to get rid of all the stupid passive voice in my writing. They do all of this with love and support and never make me feel that I am sub-par–even while calling an entire chapter sub-par. If you are a writer and you don’t have CP’s or good ones, drop what you are doing and go find some. You will never reach your full potential as a writer if you don’t have other writers there pushing you.
5: CJ Redwine
My sister is only a few years older than me, and, aside from a period of about 6 years, have always been very close. She is an amazing woman, friend and sister. Her sense of humor is unparalleled, and she is straight-up honest and tactful…well, kind of tactful. I am grateful to her for all that she has been through with me and her unconditional love. Also, she kicks my writing butt.
4: My Boyfriend
He makes me laugh, makes me think and makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I love you, baby.
3: My Kittehs!
They are feral rescues and brothers. They are retarded. They love me and cuddle up with me at night. Sam barely leaves my side when I’m not feeling well and Max follows me around, swatting at my heels if I haven’t pet him enough. They make me happy.
2: Writing
Aw, come on. You knew it’d be in here somewhere. If this is a surprise to you, then you haven’t read my blog. Ever.
1: The Way My Mind Works
I love that I see a slew of moths surrounding the floodlights outside and immediately think they are plotting with the snails to create an apocalypse.
Crap, I’m out of numbers. I didn’t include Duct Tape anywhere? This must be rectified.
So, on to the annoying part of the blog–well, for all of you, not for me anymore–TAGGING! I am tagging the following people. If you wish to participate, then go for it. I mean, is it really going to hurt you to have one extra thing to blog about? Really?
hcpalmquist
Wanton Acts of Writing 
Thank you… 😛
Crap. That face makes it look like I’m HAPPY to be tagged… =P was what it was suppose to be.
HAHAHAHA!!!! It’s okay, I understood the sentiment.
Manohman…. now I have to pause my WIP to do this. You are such a bad influence.
AND you tagged the people I’d normally tag. Dangit.
That’s what you get for having Jazz Hands. *snickers*
Awwww!!! Even though I know I’m going to be a Unicorn Booger again, I had to comment. Thank you! 🙂 You’re one of my absolute favorite people too. There might be a serious grammatical error in that sentence.
And of course you tagged me….now I have to actually THINK.
And what am I doing? Jazz Hands?
You’re trying to give the world a hug. You know, cause it’s easier to slip the mind control device into someone’s neck that way.
Step up, one and all! Get your jelly donut kisses right here! No, no … look away from the horn. Nothing to see here. No horn of doom, no sharp pointy, just jelly kisses! Concentrate on the kisses … *insert evil cackle here*
Also, I look like I really need to pee. That’s what I get for eating a jelly donut on a full bladder.
Never wise.
JAZZ HANDS!!
Although, I did just realize I have an hourglass figure. I’m like the Marilyn Monroe of Unicorn Boogers. You know you’re jealous.
Thank you!
Notice, please, that I didn’t comment on the jazz handed, jelly-eating booger?
I’m not afraid of the horn, I can float away–you can’t run very fast with your knees locked together. : )
Anyone who can be snuck up on repeatedly and get a lime pie in the face MUST fear the horn of doom.
Who said anything about running? Silly girl. That isn’t really jelly donut. That’s a brain-eating paralytic and I can spit it up to 200 miles per hour. So go ahead. Run. I’ve got a mouthful of spit with your name on it.
Also? You look like a hovercraft with lips. Look!! It’s Angelina Jolie as a legless, pie-faced Playboy Bunny!
*falls over laughing* STOP MAKING ME LAUGH!!! IT HURTS!!!! *clutches stomach*
Sorry. But seriously? Hovercraft with lips is TOTES going to be a character description in my next Lilli novel. *rubs hands together with glee*
TOTES??? Is that supposed to make sense? Clearly the jelly has coated your brain…or do you simply just have roots for the horn.
Ha! “Totes” is the new, hip way to say “totally.” I learned it from my ultra-hip agent and her best pal Barbara Poelle.
And with comments like that one, you really are risking the Horn of Doom, sister or not.
I fear I have been schooled. If you start saying Fo Shiz, I’m putting you out of your misery.
Dude. I would never say Fo Shiz. That totes isn’t the chiz anymore, yo.
I think I just twitched so hard my eye popped out.
*is a good sister and hands you a sexy eye patch*
Thank you. Much better than that crappy gauze one I had to wear in 4th grade when Sarah K. scratched my eye. I would ask where you were then, but I remember the haircuts mom had us get and can’t blame you for a thing.
*dies laughing after reading CJ’s comments*
Wait, I have to do a double post? So not fair!
LOL!
Alright lady, here it is: http://www.cdposey.com/2010/06/ten-things-that-make-me-happy.html
That was fun. Thanks!
My booger, splotch, watchamacallit thing is very happy. Hey, wait! It’s the same one I had last time. With all the extra arms/legs/tentacles/things to catch all the children… what ever you call them.
With all the kids you have, you need that many arms, so you’re lucky it stays the same for you every time. That way we can identify the unicorn booger and beware the jelly donut 200 mile an hour spit.
Yeah, you always get the same one. My floating bunny-pig now defines me.
Angelina Jolie? playboy bunny? Preens. But these aren’t bunny ears, they’re rabbit ears of doom. I have the power of bad reception at my finger, er well, I have it! And I have a secret weapon against the unicorn booger… I have no brain.
But I liiike key lime pie! Snort
Now, where’s the pie?
*gasp* Rabbit ears of DOOM? Noooooo!!!! The Brady Bunch re-runs, they BURN!!
And you may be the only person I’ve ever met who claimed being brainless as a tactical advantage. Save that claim for the Zombie Apocalypse.
The Zombie Apocalypse draws ever nearer. Are you prepared?
That makes me one of kind. You see, I’m safe, I believe in taking precautions.
“Here’s the story,
Of a lovely lady…”
Yes, but how will you survive the SNAILACOLYPSE???? Especially now that the moths have been persuaded to cover the air attack.
Snails? I float! Moths? They’ll get in my pie! Where is that unicorn when you need her?
If you think THIS unicorn is going to save your sticky face from MOTHS, you are sadly mistaken. Moths are the natural enemy of the Unicorn Booger.
You’re on you’re own.
As proof the moth invasion is already compromising my natural defenses, I’ve just committed the egregious error of misspelling “your.”
*retreats*
Prepared? My dear brainless, collagen-loving hovercraft, I’m going to START the Zombie Apocalypse. It’s step #4980 in my 5 year plan to take over the world. Step #4979 is, of course, the procurement of a super-chic cape fit to announce my mostly evil intentions to the hapless victims of my Zombie Goat army.
But the MOTHS!
They fly on silent wings, instruments of subterfuge, and when you least expect it… Plop! in your diet Pepsi, in your rootbeer float… in your PIE!
No Pepsi, no Pie, no super-chic capes are safe, as long as the moths are alight.
Don’t forget they fly down your cleavage when you’re driving, leaving you vulnerable on the side of the road, shirtless and screaming so the Zombies can pick you off easy as, well, pie.
Then I will add *cue scary music* in your cleavage!
That among the top 20 things I never thought I’d say.
*ahem* That’s
Carry on.
…CJ scares me.
*sigh* It’s the Jazz Hands, isn’t it? I knew I should’ve gone with three snaps in a z formation.
Darlin’, I watched So You Think You Can Dance tonight–Jazz hands are GENIUS compared to some of the things I’ve seen. *wiggles brows* Actually, it’s TOTES the horn.
Yeah. *nods* The horn.
OMG – WHAT HAPPENED HERE?!
I fear I’ve stepped into the WRONG GROUP. O.o You are all insane. Even the one with black and white gloves and a hat I really want… :: growls ::
I’m going back to avoiding these comments like the black plague. I have better things to do, like uh write before Kitty or Jinxie get to me. Hehehe.
:: runs away ::
You can run, but you can’t hide. *evil laughter*
Oh, but I CAN hide. The only thing that is connecting us is the internet, and if I flip this switch I go –
That’s what you think. You truly believe we don’t have eyes on you at all times. Pfft. Amateur.