I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so without further ado, here are the first three I randomly chose.
Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life wants to know:
If we woke up in jail together, what four words would you say to me?
“Well, that was fun.”
“Let’s order room service.”
“May I borrow bail?”
I am pretty sure it would be one of those choices, Teresa.
Kristen had a double for me…
I DARE you to read my blog ;) and Tell us what you do regularly but hate doing it?
Well, Kristen, I can never pass up such an easy dare as reading a blog, so I not only read your blog, I became a follower and peppered it with my amazingly witty comments. Call me an over-achiever.
As for your question of what do I do regularly but hate doing it, well that is an easy one to answer because I complain about it all the time.
I use the bathroom. That’s correct, I hate going to the bathroom. Not the actual walking into the room itself but having to “use” the bathroom. It is nothing but a waste of time and I hate having to stop what I am doing to “do” it. This is why I have nothing but sympathy for small children who wet their pants because they wait too long to go potty. I don’t blame them for choosing to continue playing over using the bathroom. Waste of time!
By the way, my sister Kelly agrees with me on this one hundred percent. Wouldn’t you know the one thing we would agree on would be this bizarre?
What’s the worst thing you have ever been caught doing?
Let me just say how beyond happy I am, no make that seriously thrilled out of my mind, that you asked about the worst thing I have ever been "caught" doing. There are so many horrendous things I have done and never been caught doing that I would have had to quit blogging if that had been asked. Oh, and now that I have brought that piece of information to the light the question does not count so don’t bother asking. You had your chance, too bad, so sad.
Anyway, I was trying to think of the worst thing I was ever caught doing and I must say, I was surprised that finding an answer was harder than I thought. I think the answer might have something to do with the guy I am married to being under my bed before we were married. He had to be there because my dad came home and decided it was a good night to bond. So, my dad and I were sitting on my bed, my dad was talking my ear off saying nice things to me which wasn’t our usual way of relating, the guy under the bed was shaking uncontrollably because he knew he was about to meet Jesus if he so much as sneezed or broke wind and I began to cry thinking my dad knew there was a guy under my bed and that was why he was being so nice to me. You know, to torture me.
Of course, years later this is one of the things that made me and under the bed guy such good parents. We knew all the dastardly deeds that rot in the brains of young minds. Oh yeah, we were on to them and did under the bed checks on a regular basis.