Thursday, September 30, 2010

You Tell Me

It has been brought to my attention that some of the readers of this blog are wondering what's wrong with me.  "How is it" you say, "that someone so honestly witty could still be single?".  Well, you tell me.

I mean I clean up well when I try:
I can totally pull of 1980s "pissed rocker chick"
I'm a natural with other people's children:
 I'm a kick ass baker:
I have a pretty good aim:
I have amazing taste in music (kissing SnowPatrol's guitar pick...right before U2 took the stage):
I give to others (well I'm hoping to give...bone marrow):
I constantly work to develop my talents (pole dancing is a talent...right?):
I can:
I run:
Hell, I even make the Snuggie look good:
....and the list goes on, and on, and on.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not perfect.  I mean I...
Talk like a pirate:
Enjoy a good sin every now and then:
Am either pale or burnt:
Bruise really, easily:
Am a bit of a tree hugger:
And have horrible eating habits:
In fact I openly admit I'm a quirky perfectionist with extreme arachnophobia and a bit of an attitude.  Sure, I hate visiting teaching and my gardening skills are a bit lacking, but over all I'm really not that bad...or so I've tricked myself into believing.  So what's the tragic flaw that keeps me in the running to be an *administering angel while everyone else is spontaneously procreating and inching towards *celestial glory?

I don't know.  You tell me.

(well, it might be the guys I date...but that's another story for another day)


Michelvis said...

Oh honey, your "tragic flaw" is that you're perpetually asking "What's wrong with me?" You're on a chase for "you complete me" but you're amazing now, not when the husband and kids come. "You Complete Me" is a farce. You live a full life and have lots of adventures. The tragic flaw is men.

The Book Goddess said...

If I were a guy and single, I would totally want to marry you. I would even kill the spiders for you! Just sayin'....

Jon said...

You have no flaws. Given what I see in terms of eligible bachelors in our culture right now, I understand you being picky. Write the book. Your blog is great. By the way, I love the apple picture.

Say hello to Chris for me. He was a bit more serious, but he and I always had this music vibe going, and we still talk 60's bands occasionally.

Your parents should be proud of raising kids like the two of you. I never knew your younger sister, but I did meet your parents occasionally. They were fun, and they seemed creative, just like I observed with you and Chris. Keep those blogs happening.

Angenette said...

I don't think that you're a tree hugger, unless you mean in a literal sense. You're waaaay too far right to be a tree hugger.

nortroytoy said...

Me thinks I love Jon!!!!!!! I've always knew you had amazing talents... love your Baby Carrier !!!!

Carrie said...

Mom, way to leave a comment under dad's account...tee-hee.

Pammie said...

Amen to Michelvis!!!!!

Pammie said...

Amen to Michelvis!!!!!!

lizzo said...

Um, I cannot give any reason or excuse. You are amazing and constantly inspire me to be better and try new things... even if I don't follow through on that inspiration.

andersons said...

Where are all these fat comments coming from? You are not fat by any means. You look great and love your blog. It's my daily dose of laughter.

Christine said...

Not that I am an expert, but maybe it is because life is damn freaking hard, and if it is not your kind of hard it will be mine or my neighbors or the guy at the homeless shelter down the street. We all get hard, just a differnt color depending on the hard that God was serving at the ice cream shop on the day you were born. Or maybe hard was God's way of making us seek him. I used to want to kick people in the teeth who told me that when my life was busy sucking rocks but... now a couple of years down the road I wouldn't trade my hard for all of the easy in the world because I have learned so much about Him and about me.

PS You are freaking adorable and funny so I think it realy must be the ice cream thing.