ME
1. My obsession with dangerous men began at age 11. The categorical chronology and duration of infatuation are as follows:
Wild West outlaws - roughly two years
Italian mafia bosses, capos, consiglieres and accountants - a year and a half
Race car drivers - three years
Members of the armed services - ten years
2. Then I married a management major from Renssalaer Polytechnic Institute.
3. The fact that I implied my fixation with military men is over is a complete bastardization of the truth. But I thought it was only proper to pretend.
4. Then I changed my mind.
5. My husband is not going to be happy about this post.
THE BOSS
1. She has long fingers and tiny toes.
2. Half of her food ends up in her hair during any given meal.
3. Her breath smelled like rubbing alcohol when she was born and, in my morphine induced stupor, I would've drunk a whole bottle of the stuff just to keep the scent around.
4. At home, she can fall flat on her face, get a bloody lip and a forehead egg, and be on her giggling way in seconds. If she's at the playground, however, where one of her friends gives her so much as a playful shove, she's inconsolable for the next five minutes.
5. Her father is adamant in his belief that she is the cutest baby, ever. I, myself, am a little more rational about the whole issue.
Today's meme was brought to you by Chicky, Chicky Baby. I tag the following people to continue the barrage of random and/or interesting facts about parent and child(ren):
Mrs. Chicken and Emmie
lildb and J
Jenifer and her two little ones
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Tuesday, December 05, 2006
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6 comments:
Your husband went to RPI?
Woah.
-toyfoto
Okey dokey, artichokey. I'm in.
RPI, eh? Troy is a rockin' town (NOT).
Dangerous men, eh? Given your daughter's love of stunts (when others aren't around) perhaps she'll pick up that same obsession when she's older.
Or maybe she'll be the dangerous one.
So a man in a uniform eh?
You're in good company. I like a military man myself.
And it really is one of life's big mysteries how the wee ones can take a licking and keep on ticking at home, but if you look at them cross eyed anywhere else, you'd have thought you were peeling their flesh from their bones with a dull butter knife...
Military men? Hmmm, is it something about the uniform? Or the lack thereof....
I'm in, and thanks for the tag.... I'm starting to really feel part of the "blogosphere" !! :)
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