Overhearing myself

So, since I'm always around me, I get to narc on all my ...idiosyncrasies.

During the holidays, we've been able to have some friends come by as they're in town to visit us. One of Michael's past roommates dropped by. It was great to see him, since it's been a few years. Michael had some great roommates. (Another Michael's roommate, but different roommate, story coming up. I just have to remember to tell it before I stop blogging this entry. ^_^)

As we're chatting and the kidlets are playing around us, the topic goes to how it was so nice being two years old and not having to be responsible ... how everything was taken care of for you and you got to play all day and you got naptime ... And Michael and W were both saying that they'd think it would be worth it to go back to being two.

Now, W is a nice bachelor friend. The only reason he's not married yet (and he admits to this) is that he's got high standards. Or as we refer to it, he's picky. ^_^

I turn to Michael and say, "Well, honey, you'd be giving up your favorite activity."

Yeah, I'm a classy girl. Very classy, indeed.
(Of course, if you know me, you know that I tend to be a bit outspoken. Especially when I'm comfortable with those around me. So, if I say anything that could be offensive, you should totally feel flattered. Because if I'm being all prim-and-proper ... well, it's because I don't feel comfortable being completely myself. ^_^

OKAY, so the other roommate story that I alluded to above:
B is another of Michael's roommates. He's pretty fun, too. (Truth be told, ALL of Michael's roommates are really good guys. They're all very different, but I like all of them immensely.)
B is a microbiology major. He's also really into being in shape. He served his mission around Mexico City --- and the stories he can tell about it? Oy vey, my dears! He's got the best "You do NOT want to eat THAT" story I've ever heard.

SO, one time we're all at a party at the apartment of P (and her roommates. P and B are married now, just so you know. Not that it has ANYTHING AT ALL to do with this story).
As we're playing a game, B keeps throwing a pillow at me. I'm getting a leeeeeeeetle fed up with being smacked in the HEAD with a pillow. So I tell him that if he does it again, I'm gonna beat him up.

Truly, my dears, that is about the most ludicrous threat ever made. It's like a newborn bunny threatening Queen Ranavalona the First with a full-scale martial warfare. Or maybe a manatee's planned poisoning of Lucrezia Borgia.

I mean, I'm stronger than I appear (mostly due to the fact that I'm very stubborn and usually VERY unwilling to accept that my body might not want to lift/carry/do things ... Something half my body weight? Sure, I can pick it up! ... Over my head, even! Sure! ... Well ... Maybe.), but still, in comparison to a guy over a head taller than me AND in good shape?

I'm not all that threatening.

So people were a little surprised when, after then next bop in the head with the pillow, Scrappy-Doo little me leaps OVER the coffee table and starts pummeling B in the arm.

Seriously, it's like a kitten boxing the ears of a racehorse. Rather ... surprising and ... surreal.

No, I didn't even leave a bruise ... but I did succeed in keeping my head free from pillow-bops for the rest of the evening.

And most people gave me a little wider of a berth from that moment on.

Because, yo, I'm all UNPREDICTABLE like that. Don't be getting in mah FACE, bro. 'Cuz I be all UP INS yo' face, dude. I'z got street cred, yo.
(and yes, I'm such the whitey-mcwhitersons that when I try to be all ganstah ... yeah, it's very ... ironic.)

So, in short ... Um ... I forgot my point. Never mind.

Still no word on the van getting fixed. *deep sigh*
Please pray that it'll get taken care of SOON, so I can start to get a full-night's sleep again. And I'll be able to take my kiddos to storytime and dentist appointments and stuff.

I'm TRYING not to worry. I'm trying REALLY, REALLY, REALLY (!!!!1!) hard ... but, you know, some more prayers couldn't hurt.