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• Why do I still have hair? I have been cursed with thin hair (thanks mom). I shed a lot. I dry my hair over a garbage can. When I run my hand through my hair I more times than not find hair in my hand. My hair cannot grow as quickly as it falls out. How do I still have hair? I will be bald by 30.

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• More times than not. Does that make sense? More times than none? Eh?

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• An almost sincere apology: I’m trying my best to bottle up the bitter along with the crazy. However, I cannot promise that I will not say “eww” when I read about my love-struck blog friends and their happy relationships. Know that deep down I am happy for you and am wishing you the best. On the outside, however, I am probably throwing up a little bit….or calling your SO’s face stupid. Sorry. Comes with the break-up package.

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• A giant tub of chocolate ice cream was put out at work today for everyone to share. Note to self: Don’t let someone who thinks you are too skinny serve you. My bowl was filled to the brim with ice cream and mini M&Ms. Ugh. Death.

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• Another note to self: Stop eating M&Ms.

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• Why are plane tickets so expensive? All I want is a roundtrip ticket to Orlando WITHOUT a layover in Atlanta. Is that TOO much to ask?!

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• I’m going to the gym after work today. I’m going to strut in there like I’m super huge. I’m going to walk up to the biggest no-neck guy in there and flex my tiny girl biceps in the mirror next to him as I imitate him. I’m pretty sure he’ll leave feeling intimidated.

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• Ugh, pants. Don’t want.

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• I’ve noticed some people getting my blog name wrong. It’s okay. But just for the record, you know, in case it comes up in a game of Trivial Pursuit, it’s Free and Flawed and you are flawed if you are not free.

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• What’s up?

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• Wrongcards make me giggle.

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• David Cook, I don’t like your face. I’m sorry.

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• I wonder if there’s something I can use to strap myself to the treadmill, that way I can sleep while walking without flying off of the damn thing.

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• Is it damn thing or damned thing?

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Things my cats need to learn

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• Knocking pens off of tables and watching me pick them up only to do it again is not a game.

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• Kicking litter out of the box then running in it so you can hear the cool sound it makes on the mat isn’t cute anymore.

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• Use your little kitty paw to cover your little kitty mouth when you yawn in my face. Just because you’re adorable doesn’t mean your breath don’t stank.

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• It is NOT necessary to follow me into the bathroom.

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• Doors are closed for a reason.

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• Puke on tile or wooden floors only. Avoid all carpets and fabrics.

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• No playing with bells after 11 p.m.

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• Inviting someone to rub your belly only to bite their hand is not nice.

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• Yes, that is you in the mirror, get over it.

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• No matter how cute you think it is, I don’t want your butt in my face.

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• Blinds are not your personal alarm clock. Don’t start attacking them at 6 a.m.

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• It is not necessary to walk all over me while I’m sleeping. If I roll over, that is not an invitation for you to switch sides and rub your paw all over my face.

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• Laptops, cell phones, DVD players and shoes are my toys. Little colorful mice, feathers and balls with bells are your toys.

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You really like me!! I need a break from my last post. Every time I read a comment I get teary-eyed.
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I have to thank Kristen, Sandy and Cheryl for giving me the You Make My Day Award.
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It made my day to find out that not only one, but three, of my favorite bloggers shared it with me. So thank you ladies. I guess I can’t send this award back to you huh? It would be a never ending cycle I suppose.
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Forgive me if you’ve already received this. I’m having blog-amnesia and can’t remember who’s gotten what.
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The dancing queen, my mom. Yes I’m giving my mom an award. She’s really new to the blog world and won’t be able to pass it on, but she does make my day. Seriously, ask her to dance.
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Nuttycow over at Parlez-vous moo? because every time I go to her blog, I giggle. How fun is it to say “parlez-vous moo?”
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Life With Hammy. He’s a pretty cool guy who writes a comic strip about his life. Awesome. Plus, he just found out he’s going to be a daddy! Congrats \

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Alice from Alice’s Wonderland because she’s awesome and has two very adorable kitties who make me “ooh,” “ahh” and “aww.”
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Vanessakins ftw! Super f-word yeah (this is a family friendly post folks). Why does she get it? I ask you why not?!

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I’m going to agree with Clueless Cat and say that breaking up is NOT so hard to do. It’s the letting go process that really challenges you. It’s accepting the fact that you’re no longer an us or a we, but rather an I. It’s becoming used to seeing reminders of the failed relationship everywhere whether it be a happy couple who seem to be rubbing their relationship in your face (they’re not), or a song, movie, poster, picture, etc.
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While watching SATC the other night, Carrie spent the episode going through breakup rules. None of them really mattered much to me but I did enjoy one rule:
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Destroy all pictures in which he looks sexy and you look happy.

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While I won’t destroy them, I’m having a very difficult time taking them out of frames and putting them in a box. At the same time, looking at them only confuses me more. I miss him. I don’t want to let go, but I know the only way we’ll be able to have a friendly relationship in the future is if I take some time for myself to heal and make that transition. It just doesn’t feel right. It’s going to be incredibly difficult for me not to email, IM, text or call him. I know one day I’ll be okay, but for now, is it okay if I’m not?
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So Mr. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do, you lied. Maybe it’s time for you to write a new song!

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Call me crazy, but I just don’t see what all the hub bub is about when it comes to Miley Cyrus’ new photo “scandal.”
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It’s no worse than Vanessa Hudgens’ nude picture that found its way onto the net last year. I can see why her age would be a factor and make some parents uncomfortable. But she’s not trashy. It was a very tasteful and classy picture. She wasn’t showing her boobs or touching herself. It’s not like it was a homemade photo or video that unknowingly found it’s way onto the net. The photo is no worse than wearing a backless dress to an award show. It was a monitored, planned and professional photo shoot.
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I think it’s ridiculous that she’s being forced to apologize by Disney. Get over it. I understand that hundreds of young girls look up to Miley Cyrus, but hopefully you’ve been a good enough parent and your child knows not to photograph themselves nude on the net.
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As for the way the Cyrus’ are handling it, well, I think it’s pretty stupid. Obviously the parents were there. They knew what the shoot was going to be like. How can Miley say she misinterpreted the shoot. You’re sitting with a blanket hiding your nibblets. What’s there to misinterpret? She probably didn’t expect the backlash, which is understandable and foolish. Still I think parents should move on and worry about Jamie Lynn being preggers or the lead paint in their children’s toys.
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Next week some celebrity will do something else stupid that you can bitch and moan about and Miley will join the ranks of Vanessa, Paris and Miss Spears in their Internet scandal glory.

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The Nightmare, Henry Fuseli

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Do you ever have a dream that you’re certain you had before? Is it possible to have the same dream more than once? Can you pick up where another dream left off? I feel like I had a dream Saturday night and then continued it last night. But I don’t remember if it really happened Saturday night or if it was all last night’s dream and I just think it was a two part dream. Is this confusing you all? It’s confusing me.

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My dream was like school meets a haunted house meets wrestling. I was at an academy for nightmares. We were learning how to be the demons and monsters in people’s nightmares. We’d put on these really disturbing costumes (think Thirteen Ghosts) and act out plays or skits to rehearse for our “big performance” (read: nightmares). People I went to school with were there, even my cousin. The director or instructor was The Big Show from the WWF. Or WWE. Whatever it is these days.
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There was really no point to these dreams. I just watched a bunch of people act out horrible scenes that would terrify any little child in the middle of the night. I watched myself pick my costume and I remember saying, “Oh no, I had this one at the last practice” and grabbed a different suit. It had a hot pink jacket and little top hat. I was thrilled. Of course the mask I wore was pretty mangled and skeleton-like.
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So that’s my dream. I’m not even going to try to look for meaning in this one. I’m not sure if I believe that all dreams have some story to tell or meaning to share. Sometimes they’re just episodes of random memories all firing at once. Our minds file away everything our eyes see. I’m not surprised I see people in my dreams who I think I know. I probably saw that person on the train six months ago.
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If this is a reoccurring dream, cool. It sure beats the week I had dreams in which I saw my own dead body, had a waitress in a body bag, a cadaver came to life and I saw my cousin dead under a coffee table. That was an interesting week. It was all pre-anatomy fanatics, too!

Here are the favorites from this week’s batch of secrets over at PostSecret.
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If you’re not following me on Twitter or Facebook then you don’t know that I didn’t get the internship with the coroner’s office that I wanted. Sad face. They said they’ll review my application when they’re looking for a fall candidate.
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The TA position I wanted at my old school? Apparently isn’t available anymore. I don’t know what happened there. I was told I’d be a great candidate and then I hear nothing, despite my various attempts to get in contact with them. I was told that they have a tutoring spot open for Wednesday and Thursday nights. While I want it, that schedule doesn’t work well with my current job. We’ll see.
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I applied for a receptionist position at a spa in Chicago the other day. It’s only a couple days a week, but it pays $9 an hour. In addition to the money I already make at the wagon place, I might actually be able to afford to move out. But who knows. I’m trying to think positive, but aside from getting into UIC, not much else is going my way.
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I’m getting very frustrated living where I am. I shouldn’t because I’m living rent free and have it pretty sweet here. But I miss the freedom. I miss privacy. Little things that don’t normally bother me are turning into big ordeals that annoy me. My job at the wagon place is pretty unstable. One month I’m working full time and the next I’m back to three days a week.
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A friend of mine is thinking of moving to Chicago in the fall and asked if I’d consider being his roommate. That would be nice. I’d much rather room with someone I know than some stranger I met off of Craigslist. But he wouldn’t be moving until October, at the earliest, so that doesn’t work well with me. I’d like to move out before I begin school in August.
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Things I miss about living alone:

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• Waking up in the morning and being left alone.

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• Walking around in a T-shirt.

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• Eating dinner on the couch in front of the TV.

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• Not getting asked questions about my day when I don’t want to talk about it.

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• The opportunity to leave a family party early and go home.

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• Inviting friends over.

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• Not having someone say “Here she is/here she comes” every time I come down the stairs.

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• The option of bringing my dad’s dog over.

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• Not being told I eat too much or too little.

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• 22 minute showers!

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• Lounging around in a towel after a shower.

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• Not having to explain where I’m going, when I’m going, who I’m going with and how long I will be.

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• Not having my own furniture. I really want my bed out of storage because it’s new and soft and delightful!

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• Creative freedom to decorate how I see fit.

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It took me all day, but I didn’t forget to draw the winning names for the Pay It Forward contest I held yesterday. I was, er, still am surprised at the number of responses I received. You mention free shit and the people come out of the word work! I’m going to pretend that all of you just want a chance at having your own Pay It Forward contest and spread happiness throughout the blogosphere.
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Look at all of those names!!! I’m sure I killed a miniature tree by using all of those Post-Its, but I was at work and bored. Plus, I had a spiffy silver pen to use!
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I broke out my pink Bears hat for this special occasion. Seems fitting see as how today was draft day. Exciting!!!

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Colorful!!!

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Congrats to Amanda Dawn, Ben and Bex.

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Please email me your addresses so I can send you some fantabulous packages.

I was somewhere in the Blogosphere reading about first kisses today. I can’t remember the blog, but if it was yours, step forward and claim your prize (read: e-hug) for inspiring this post. Her post got me thinking about my own first kisses: the good, the bad and the ugly.
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The Ugly: My very first kiss turned me off of kissing for a while. I think it was the summer between grade school and high school. Charlie was a cute guy, though kind of dumb. Sorry Charlie, but Metallica is NOT the best band ever. What did I see in him? Anyway, our kiss was pretty random. It was unexpected and wet. Ew. It was very sloppy and I remember walking away, wiping my face with my sleeve. I could smell his breath on me still. Ew. Yeah, thanks buddy.
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The Bad: There were a couple more sloppy kissers to follow. What is it with guys thinking we want our faces devoured? I don’t get it. More spit doesn’t make me want you more. There was one guy who refused to take gum. His favorite chips were Cool Ranch Doritos. You know where this is going right? I tried my best to subtly hint to him that his breath was offensive. I offered him gum and mints. He’d never take it. Finally I told him yo, your breath stinks man. He didn’t take it well. I’m pretty sure we broke up over that.
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There’s awkward gross and then there’s awkward cute. Cute happened during my sophomore year of high school. I don’t know why we were playing truth or dare or seven minutes in heaven, but we were. I was dared to kiss Joe. Now I was ridiculously shy. No super fuck yeah going on back then. When I heard my dare I turned bright red and looked away. I made eye contact with no one. It’s as if someone asked me to kick a puppy or pee into a cup without wetting my hand. I eventually backed out of my dare and moved right along. Some how, we ended up being paired up for seven minutes in heaven (which I’ll never understand as the girl pairing us up did it intentionally, then got pissed at me when I started dating him. Wtf?) Anyway, so we’re in this dark bathroom. He said I owed him a kiss and we went in for the kill. His chin met my nose. His lips rubbed chapstick on my forehead. There was nothing romantic about this. When we finally did kiss, all I could think about was how bad his chapstick tasted. Needless to say this wasn’t the best kiss of my life, but I guess it wasn’t too bad. We dated for two years after that.
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The Good: My best kiss happened to be a first kiss. I don’t want to inflate his ego as I’m not really a big fan at the current time, but it was with the whatcha-mah-call-it. I can’t believe we’re back to calling it this (That’s my way of saying I don’t know what the hell we’re doing; if we are broken up or still together.) I remember drinking lemon-flavored water after chewing a mint and having a funny taste in my mouth right before we kissed. I remember him asking if he could. I remember my hands shaking, my face was bright red, I was sweating but I was cold. No heads butting, noses getting smashed or chins colliding. It wasn’t sloppy or unnecessarily wet. It was gentle, yet passionate. Sweet, but aggressive. I forgot all about being nervous. It was one of those perfect moments where everything around you stops, if only for a couple of seconds.
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I used to love thinking back to this moment. I would replay it in my head at night when I missed him. I enjoyed remembering details of the first time we met and fell asleep thinking about how happy I was.
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I’m still not at peace with this though. I know one day I’ll be able to look back on it and feel good that I actually had a perfect first kiss with someone who made my world stand still. But right now, I just miss it. It doesn’t bring me the comfort it once did. I feel sad rather than happy. I question how the same person who kissed me then and made me weak in the knees could be the same one to break my heart.
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It’s funny how those perfect kisses don’t necessarily promise a perfect ending.