Saw this over at Joelle’s:
Ralph Waldo Emerson — May 25.
1803 for him, and *mumblemumble* for me.
It was on my. …
Oh, you mean where was I at?
Second grade, in a classroom during a stupid film about animals or some crap like that. I so totally got thrown out of the classroom. It was brilliant. 🙂
No, but I stood by and witnessed it once. I felt really bad, because no matter how much of a shit the victim was, I should have been above being a participant.
Only upon request. 😉
If I’m really comfortable with someone, I’ll touch or whack them playfully during conversation. It’s my weird way of connecting with them.
I don’t hit in anger, though. I don’t want it done to me and refuse to implement a double-standard.
That’s why the good lord invented karaoke, so assholes like me can be shown exactly why we weren’t meant to be rock stars.
I was in some middle-school productions as a member of the chorus. Frightening.
Their hands. I am big on grooming, and well-kept nails and skin make me tingle. Because there’s always that “next step” in one’s imagination about what those hands and fingers can do when taken to task. … 😉
Conversation. Laughter. Persistence. Brilliance. Depth. The element of surprise, particularly because I am always on guard.
Normally, just a grande or a venti regular. *snooze*
But around the holidays, I am addicted to the gingerbread lattes.
Jesus H, I have to pick only one?!?!
Screwing up my finances. That perm in fourth grade. Those late-night threesomes with Ben & Jerry — all of them. Giving up those freelance opportunities because I want my “me” time when I come home. Not going to Sarah Lawrence — not finding a way to afford it, rather.
Yes.
I’m shy. *bwahahaha*