Three random facts about me!

  1. Living on the hippie side of town is wearing off on me – oh, who am I kidding, I love that my side of town is zoned for keeping chickens (you have no idea how much I long to actually do it!). But you know how I know? I took my trash out today (and was not ambushed by squirrels this time) and, when I saw a plastic Ocean Spray juice bottle in one of the bags already in the dumpster, I actually contemplated digging it out so I could recycle it. I mean, of course, I recycle my own trash, but I haven’t crossed the line yet into recycling for others. I think I’m getting pretty close to it, though – I felt really bad about not actually climbing in there to get it…
  2. Okay, you all know that I’m scared of spiders. But you know how potatoes, left to their own devices, start to grow their eyes out? I’m scared of them. The eyes, I mean. They’re all sort of spongy and stalky and unsettling and ominous. They grow in the dark, people! That’s not right! Like my sink (which I have learned to love dearly despite its homicidal tendencies), I kind of worry that they might murder me in my sleep. And that’s why I currently have TEN baked potatoes cooling in the kitchen so that I can make something out of them tomorrow. I just can’t deal with all the staring that goes on otherwise!
  3. I am learning Russian. Know how I’m learning Russian? By watching Russian  Sherlock Holmes and the original Hotson (so hot he doesn’t even need subtitles, but he comes equipped with them anyway)!

    So, needless to say, it’s going pretty slowly, but I have literally no way of expressing how awesome they are.

4 thoughts on “Three random facts about me!

    • And they smell like weird flowers! Or at least these ten did. They are knd of weird, aren’t they? All lumpy and…lumpy. But it’s the eyes that are the worst! VEGETABLES SHOULDN’T HAVE EYES!

      EYES! D:

      • I always feel the need to pick at them…b/c they look so strange. I will pick at them, and pick them away, and then I won’t have to look at them anymore. And I’m repulsed by my need to pick at them (could I say “pick” one more time?) and they freak me out.

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