Michael and I were hanging around in my room earlier tonight when, for whatever reason, I decided to post. Actually, I was hanging around my room and M was in the bathroom reading my 10 pound Vogue picture book on the porcelain throne. But, before I could type about WHY he was spending some quality time with bff John Crapper, I had a random urge to dig up truths from the past. MY XANGA. I had totally forgotten about it and hadn't checked in since my last blog post sometime in 2006 I think. And I thought I was a new blogger. False.... this is my second, and, after going back to read my Xanga, which I somehow remembered the log-in and password to, I believe my first attempt, at age 17, was MUCH better than this one has been so far. For one thing, after reading so many other people's blogs, I can't stop blogging as though my goal isn't to tell my invisible, non-existent readers about something, but to be really well-spoken, charming, and witty. I am transparent. I suck at being a journalist. Especially now since I just called my own bluff. OH WELL. But the point is that I was REAL then and I'm not 100% sure what I am now. And that seems odd, seeing as I was in high school during my last blog, and am now a college graduate. Shouldn't I have needed a reality check then? But I don't feel like that's the case. Maybe after 10 years if I take a look at this thing and compare it to the Xanga, I'll see the light. I'm hoping so. At any rate, the blast to the past got me excited to blog again. Even if there are no comments or readers at all. Maybe one of the best things about my old blog was that I wasn't droning on and on like I am here. I'll get better, hopefully. Before I drop the Xanga topic, I have to say that I was really surprised to see how freakishly the same I am from then to now. Here's a list:
-I still have never been drunk, done drugs, shoplifted, or cheated.
-I still don't understand why women want to tote around a kid in their uterus for 9 months before suffering labor and birth and DIAPERS. (oddly, this doesn't mean I'm totally opposed to doing this myself.)
-I am still a Georgia Bulldog. Even though I'm done with undergrad
-I'm still obsessed with RONALDINHO! (who is, for some stupid reason, not on the Brazilian national team for this World Cup.)
-I still enjoy (no really. or maybe not) bouts of hypochondria and anxiety.
-I still am too lazy to drive out to the barn often (doesn't help that Skipper's in a pasture with Eclipse, who will NEVER LET ME CATCH MY OWN HORSE).
-I still like designer jeans...and still know they're a rip off.
-I still want to be closer to God. And still get in my own way of forming a healthy relationship with Him every chance that I get.
-I still use all the hot water.
-I still don't like Wedding Crashers.
And, I guess there are a few differences:
-I no longer eat Uncrustables. Because I no longer eat gluten.
-I am WAY OVER the emo music stage. Like Jimmy Eat World and The Spill Canvas. Is it bad to say I'm embarrassed I was so into that stuff? And Yellowcard. Gag.
-I no longer have issues with boys. Only man. Only one :).... and only occasionally.
-I am no longer so pissed that Marissa died on The OC that I will scream.
There's other stuff, but I think I'll let the Xanga spin around in oblivion another 5 years and then dig it up again.
The whole original purpose of the blog post?
Michael and I decided to dinner at Frontera Mex-Mex Grill...He got steak fajitas and I got fajita nachos. He filled up on chips and salsa before we got our main courses (like 99% of the population does) and then felt like death afterwards. The summary, in closing, moral of the story here is a public service announcement. you're welcome in advance.
DON'T EAT GREASY NASTY SHIZNIT IN LARGE QUANTITIES. YOU WILL WANT TO PURGE. YOU WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME FAT. AND INDOLENT. AND AFTER THAT YOU WILL DEVELOP TYPE 2 DIABETES. LASTLY, YOU WILL HAVE A HEART ATTACK. AND DIE.
I already hear the thank yous galore raining down from the avid readers I don't have. To sleep!
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