And now Jennifer has tagged me!!

And now Jennifer has tagged me!!

Brace yourselves…here we go!

Pronunciation Key
n. pl. id·i·o·syn·cra·sies
A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.

down five of your own personal idiosyncrasies. Then, if you wish, tag
five people from your live gerbil or friendslist to do the same.

1.  Food is not meant to be mixed together prior to reaching your stomach.  There will be no touching prior to ingestion.  And, there are times that I seriously consider only eating one thing for a while.  Also, there are only four things that are actually meant to touch: Steak, Corn, Potatoes and Gravy.  That’s it.  Nothing else.

2.  When putting something on a bulletin board everything has to line up or it bothers me.  The same goes for putting labels on files.

3.  I will toss flip flops, boots and sneakers anywhere in the house but my stilettos have a special place in my closet.  They’re even in boxes to keep the dust off.

4.  Not sure if this is an idiosyncrasy or not but…I refuse to go into my basement.  It is dark, dank, dirty, generally ucky and there are dead…things.  I have been known to go an entire day without hot water or heat in mid-winter because I will not, under any circumstances go into the basement.  At all.  I also have attic issues but since alot of my files are in there I have to deal.  There aren’t moldy spiders up there so it makes it a little easier.

5.  Typos.  I hate typos.  I can spell like nobody’s business and have been called a walking Webster on more than one occasion – mostly because I did alot of reading during my teen geek years.  How hard is it to do a freaking spellcheck before you click on ‘post’?!  Boy do I hate that.

There.  There are five things…now I’m going to go alphabetize my cupboards and line up my clothes by color ;o)

I think I’ll tag Carole, Bev, Abi, and Amanda

The Good, The Bad, The Worse & The Ugly

Let me apologize in advance, this is a bit of a rant.

Okay so what news do you want first?  Hmmm…I’ll start out with The Bad (which leads directly into The Worse):

I CAN’T FIND MY CAMERA!  The Worse is…MY TEENAGER ISN’T HERE TO BLAME!!  Which means I did it.  Somewhere in my house is my camera and it is laughing at me.  For the last 45 minutes it’s had a lovely giggle while I’ve stomped around, swore, threatened it and then apologized for threatening it, cajoled it to come out of hiding, and tried to coax it with the promise of new shiny batteries to no avail.  Grrrr.  I had a lovely post all planned with lovely photos but NOOOOO…this is perfect.  Just perfect.

The Good is that I received not two, not four, but SIX skeins of Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Sock in three different lovely colorways.  No, I will not tell you which ones, because I want to show you in a PICTURE.  Grrr again.  I am also mostly done with the placket sweater from Last Minute Knitted Gifts.  How done you ask?  Well, I’d love to SHOW you.  *grumble*

Now for The Ugly…are you ready for this?  Let me give you a little back-story to this saga.  I drive a lovely arrest-me-red Jeep Grand Cherokee.  I love my car.  I have been known to admit that I love my family members more, however, my car comes an extremely close second.  Then you have my mother.  I love my mother.  On most days I don’t want to kill her.  On days she drives my car in minus 2 degree weather and parks it in a snowbank that has the consistency of Mt. Rushmore and leaves A BIG GAPING HOLE in my front bumper that she then DOES NOT NOTICE FOR AN ENTIRE DAY I most definitely need to be far FAR away from her or else I’ll be in jail.  (This is not news to her, by the way, I think they heard my cry as far away as Niagra Falls that day).  So there you have it, about a year or so ago my mother DROVE my car into a snowbank and. BROKE. IT. (yeah, I have been known to hold a grudge – I only mention this one when she’s trying to park and I’m in the car with her).  Okay, that was pretty bad (alright it was Horrible).  Well, about two months after that happened I was minding my own business when some college chick in a crappy car full of her giggling friends wasn’t looking and REAR-ENDED ME.  I kept calm.  I made sure they were all okay.  THEN I kinda felt bad for her car since it was creamed.  MY car, you ask?  A leetle dent.  I love my SUV.  (For those of you wondering, it was a Saturn and I had to give her a bungie cord AND strap her hood down with it.  HEY I HELPED and I DIDN’T kill her.)  Okay so it was a leetle dent and alot of paint damage.  So, since I now had damage on both my bumpers I was starting to look like my car was being driven by…well…by my mother. (sorry mom).  This meant it was time to get it fixed.  So, I bring it in and get not one, but TWO brand spankin’ new bumpers (yay) AND since the guy is an awesome paint man he did a lovely clear-coat on the rest of the car so now my arrest-me-red is lookin like see-it-from-mars-red *grin*.  (LOVE my car).

All goes well for a year.  A YEAR.  I don’t let mom drive my car (okay so she refuses to drive it and says something that sounds suspiciously like ‘vindictive’ juuust out of my hearing) so its still looking pretty nice.

Then we go to Lake George.

We are parked.  We are minding our own business.  We are trying to find Roger’s sister, et al.  We weren’t doing anything BAD for crying out loud.  We were even SOBER.  We are in one of those Godforsaken parking lots that a horse couldn’t fit through and some WOMAN comes around the corner and tries to juuust sqeeeeze her freaking minivan – MINIVAN.  Did I mention that a horse couldn’t fit through here?  I did?  Hrm. –  between my car and the car across from it.  Guess what – IT DIDN’T FIT.

I now have this big freaking black mark (okay SEVERAL black marks)on the corner of my lovely shiny red bumper.  Dammit.  Can I just say that her car looked like it had been driven by a drunk clown down Fifth Avenue during rush hour?  There were dents.  There were dings.  And, now there is also a see-it-from-mars-red streak going down the side of it.  Some people should just have their licenses RIPPED out of their hands, chopped into little bitty pieces and thrown to the four winds.  She. Actually. Looked. Surprised. That. I. Was. Upset.  Let’s just say that she’s lucky there were witnesses.  The kicker?  She had a ‘how’s my driving?’  bumper sticker.  I shit you not.

But there is a happy ending to this story….

I didn’t kill her.

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