Eating: Um... life?
Drinking:Dasani water
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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"No, we'll use it up." all time - is relative
Grocery shopping with my dad is always a weird experience. Like shopping with a mentally handicapped person with credit cards and a tendency to over-eat. He seems to honestly believe that the second after we get home from the grocery store, someone is going to place are home under siege and we are going to need that 3 pound block of cheese and 15 cans of water chestnuts. I have to explain to him in little words that we don't need to buy the big 2 gallon things of vanilla ice cream merely because he wants to make a root beer float tonight. And he loves Velveeta, which I don't think even qualifies as cheese under the FDDA's standards. He would so die of malnutrition if he was left to his own demise.
I was being creative today. I thought up a fable, and an idea for a drawing/painting. Called The Mouth of Chaos, it is an open pair of red perfect female lips, and the cities crumbling between the lips, with fires and bombs and such. Fun, no?
I swear to god, my dog is trying to eat my hair. I really need to switch from Herbal Essences.
Quote for the Entry: "Where's your soda?" -My dad, as we are standing approximately 8 feet from the aisle.
He never, ever, listens to me.
all time - is relative