Our Father's Mustache

Here are some random facts I think you should know about me. And really, I’m only writing this because everything else I typed was borderline psychotically angry and about some chick who would rather talk to a dog than try to make me feel like I count in the world. Whatever. It was a cute dog, so I find some solace in that.

• I drink when I’m really nervous. If there’s a beverage in front of me and I start to feel insecure with the situation at hand, I will guzzle until there’s nothing left to drink. Water, soda, milk (it’s harder to compulsively drink milk, but if I’m nervous and there’s nothing else around, I WILL DO IT), doesn’t really matter. Case in point; I drank a can of regular coke and a can of diet coke in an hour tonight. I was shaking so hard on the drive home, I thought about calling my brother to get me. I didn’t and I’m fine now.
• I love sleeping. I love it to the point that I bet I could sleep for 24 hours solid and not be sad about that being how I spent an entire day of my life.
• I have Celiac Disease, which, if you read the entry entitled “Paula Dean and Honesty,” you know that gluten does really bad things to me. It’s funny, but the stomach pain is the least of my issues when I ingest gluten. I get intensely emotional, have body cramps (wooo, muscle cramps, yeahhhh!), get a killer headache, and become nearly narcoleptic. It’s so awesome (sarcasm, big time). So, there you have it. Also, I really hate being in a public setting and talking about my symptoms. Even though it seems like I’m okay with admitting to explosive diarrhea, I’d rather not talk about it, say, while we’re at a group lunch for work (just as an example). That’s gross.
• And while we’re on personal space invasions; I don’t mind if you ask about my scars (they are quite prominent), but you have to know that scars that large didn’t come from something minor, right? I mean, you’re asking about two scars on my chest, one of which is four inches long and the other is shorter at one inch, but still pretty noticeable. You have to know that the cause of those is at least a little serious, right? So when you ask where I got my scars and I honestly reply with, “I had cancer and those are the scars from my biopsy and port,” please don’t freak out. Because then I feel bad for answering a question that you asked. Just roll with it. I don’t care if you ask me what kind of cancer I had, what my treatments were, or if I lost my hair, or shaved my head. I don’t mind any of that. I do mind if you get freaked out and stop talking to me. You brought it up, I told you, now we have to chill out and be cool about it.
• I love Roller Derby and get irritated when people say, “oh, that thing where girls pro wrestle while skating?” No offense, but really? It’s like “nearly” full contact speed skating. And for the guys out there who think it’s some kind of kinky girl on girl thing; QUIT IT. It’s hard work and awesomely empowering, and you’re trying to cheapen it.
• I have a highly competitive nature. I will do nearly anything to win/be the best/triumph. It’s what I do.
• Just because I don’t cry a lot and don’t like crying unless I’m by myself doesn’t mean that I can’t handle my emotions. I’d just prefer to work through things on my own.
• I kind of like Tulsa. It’s not a bad place to be for the moment (please note that I said for the moment).

Ok, so while it’s not my most amazing post ever, I’m finally feeling like I can go to sleep. If I regret writing it, I can always delete it in the morning. But I probably won’t, because that’s just not my style.