I feel like making some confessions.
I love hot dogs with cheese in the middle. I know. It’s processed cheese. It’s so fake. And it’s so good. I love eating them on warm April afternoons when the weather is nice enough to sit out on the porch letting the ketchup and mayonnaise drip all down my napkin.
I watch the Bachelor. And while I do, I think I know how to date better than these women. That’s funny.
I’m a Utahn born and raised and I’ve never been skiing or snowboarding. Yet.
I love my bed in the mornings, but not at nights. And yet, every single morning, as I manage to force myself out of bed I tell myself how great it will be to crawl back under the covers later that night. However, when the night rolls around, I just can’t make myself climb in.
I try to convince myself I like foreign films. But I hate reading subtitles. I own House of Flying Daggers, but I’ve never seen it. I’ve owned it for years.
I went to NYC in the winter and didn’t ice skate in Central Park. It was the ONE thing I wanted to do, but the person I was there with kept me from going. Boo.
I love going to the gym. It makes me happy. As happy as eucalyptus-scented hot tubs, cheeseburgers, piano, dodgeball, soccer, rollerblading down dangerously steep hills, and playing high speed magnetic darts*.
I wrote a random list because I felt like it. Apparently this is what I do when I can’t sleep. Who knew?
*There were dents in the door of my apartment where this happened frequently. The good times continued in the next apartment as well and left dents in the wall. But they were little dents so not really vandalism, right? Right.