Not Suitable for Children Under 4 Months

Proof that sometimes even I can play nice with adorable baby boys with blue blue eyes who are at the perfect age and have a giggle that makes me want to eat their chubby little cheeks right up.

(Although I must mention that right at this moment he just woke up from his nap and is crying in the next room. That's about when reality sets in again.)

We hold these truths to be self-evident

Internets, I've been lying to you.

All these years, and I've been unintentionally leading you astray. Several times I've referred to myself as short, and I think that once or twice I even said five feet. But it's with a heavy heart that I must issue a retraction and explain that I am NOT five feet tall. I am actually five feet and three quarter inches tall.

I don't blame you if you hold a grudge. I mean, this change of height thing has really gotten to me. If I'm not five foot, what other lifelong beliefs will be proven false? Am I not Peruvian? Not sarcastic? Not cynical? Dear God, what is real? Maybe I really DO have cankles! Who am I? What the hell?

This earth-shattering revelation came about at the doctor's office a few weeks ago. Shoes off and on the scale that I hate, the nurse explained that I was in fact 5' 3/4" tall.* It was truly mind boggling for me. I've always known that I'm sixty inches tall. I mean, I measure things with my height!** Somehow, "sixty and three quarters inches" doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well. Not to mention all the things I have to take into consideration with this newfound height. I mean, can I still wear three inch heels? Am I still considered short? Do I have to duck under low hanging branches now? What about rounding? Do I have to say "five one" or do I say "five foot?"

These three quarters of an inch are no laughing matter.

This whole height identity crisis was brought to mind by my first meeting with a dear friend's "new" boyfriend. His impression of me was "shorter than expected." I feel like I should tell him, "Oh yeah? You think I'm short now? You should have met me a month and a half ago when I was only five feet tall!"

And what about the boy? Now that I'm taller, am I still a bulldog? Or can I be categorized under a taller species of dog now?

I think I have to go lie down. I'm one flying pig away from a nervous breakdown.

*This came after I helpfully shared the detail that I've been sixty inches tall since the fifth grade. Boy did I feel dumb. I even had her remeasure me. She didn't seem happy by my request.

**True story. It's because of my height that I knew that the Holiday Inn in Princeton, IN LIED when they said their deep end was five feet. I was completely submerged and had at LEAST two inches of water over my head. Tell me THAT'S not a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Couldn't Help It

So I went to Carrie's blog and then couldn't help myself. Apparently you can input a picture of yourself and your significant other and make a cyber baby. Too tempting to pass up.

Numbers

60 - My total height in inches
35 - The number of Pull 'n' Peel Twizzlers that I've eaten so far
6 - Number of days it's taken me to eat the Pull 'n' Peel Twizzlers
501 - Number of times I've wished I didn't have dogs in the last 24 hours
3 - Number of times I've attempted to eat six Saltines in sixty seconds
0 - Number of times I've succeeded
17 - The number on the Colts jersey that I just received (happy belated birthday to me!!) and love love love.
5 - Number of guys who have looked at me strangely because they can't figure out whose Colts jersey I'm wearing
5,682 - Number of times I've cursed about choosing to play Philip Rivers over Ben Roethlisberger in fantasy football last week
223 - My total cholesterol. (Go ahead. Be horrified. I only post that here because I'll post an update in six months when it's MUCH lower. And in my defense, my body manufactures high amounts of good cholesterol (thanks Mom!!) so the ratio? Isn't that bad. But the total does give you some sticker shock...I'll give you that.)
23.5 - Number of hours I logged in studying for my test yesterday
1 - Number of surprising discoveries I've made about myself in the past week
2 - Number of times I've let the dogs sleep in my bed in the last week
2 - Number of times Laney has woken me up at 5:30am out of spite because the dogs are on the bed and she's not
1 - Number of times I've voted for the candidate who eventually became president
2 - The number to which I hope to increase the previous statistic come November
40 - Number of minutes early that I have to leave the house if I want to take the dogs to daycare. (I hope they appreciate the sacrifice...)
750 - Number of square feet in my home
1500 - Number of square feet I would have in my home if I used the basement for anything other than storage and laundry (stupid spiders)
2 - Number of Classic Coca-Cola 20oz bottles I purchased this morning. (Note the omission of the word "diet." I'm trying. Really I am.)
287 - Number of cents for a gallon of gas yesterday. Too bad I filled up two days prior
24.2 - Average miles per gallon of gas that Curvy is currently getting
32.1 - Highest average mpg I've gotten out of Curvy when driving to my parent's house
20 - Average number of emails that I exchange with zlionsfan on any given day.
3 - Number of glasses of sangria I drank last night to celebrate the fact that my test is over
6 - Number of times I hit snooze this morning.
5 - Number of my readers who I'll bet are going to try the Saltines thing in the next week or so. (Just make sure to let me know how that turns out.)

Who knew all that anger would come in handy?

I'm no gamer, but I've been known to play video games on occasion. MarioKart is an all time favorite, and was actually one of my favorite pasttimes when getting over heartbreak. And I've made no secret of my love for all things Frogger and PacMan. (And I may have secret [outdated] mad skillz with Nina in Tekken.) But I was never into the "shoot 'em up" games. I've watched GTA (and heard about the fun storylines,) but never played. The competitor in me sort of yearns to be really good at the video games that zlionsfan, ropes me into to unlock things or reach certain achievements, but I just don't have the time.

Along these lines, when Guitar Hero came out, I didn't understand the excitement from zlionsfan. It was a fun game, and I could see how it would become mildly addictive, but to spend hours upon hours on that game? Then came Rock Band. Okay. It's Guitar Hero with more instruments and singing. I get it. I can play the guitar okay. I can play the bass okay. The drums look like they're way too complicated (and after seeing my cousin play - who was AWESOME - I'm super intimidated.) And singing? You mean, singing in front of people? No thanks. Besides, Rock Band was mostly 70s rock with which I am not well acquainted. (Sorry sorry sorry. In my defense - I know some of the songs!! Just not all of them.) I mean, Rock Band is fun and all, sure. Especially in a group of people. But to spend lots of time on it? Meh.

Enter Rock Band 2. All of a sudden, I know the songs I'm playing. All of a sudden, Rock Band is much more fun. All of a sudden, I'm dropping off a book for zlionsfan and staying until 10:30pm playing "one more song." Damn. But still, given the control freak in me (and with that, the dislike of making a complete fool of myself) I stick to the guitar. No drums, and no singing.

Last night we were playing "one more song" and it happened to be Alanis Morrissette. Specifically 'You Oughta Know.' Emily on guitar and zlionsfan on vocals. We play. We don't do so well. We try again, we don't do so well. In an unprecedented move I say,

"Let me sing."

I know, right? Zlionsfan tried his best to talk me out of it. He expressed doubt in that gentle way he has, and reminded me that it was on expert. I'm sure he was trying to help me avoid an epic fail. I stuck to my guns.

"C'mon. Let me sing."

What he probably didn't realize is that any woman scorned has at one point or another cranked up Alanis and sang along. That song is probably the anthem for a woman scorned. I'm not saying I've ever been a woman scorned before (cough cough) but, you know, I may have sang that tune a time or two (or fifty or sixty.) I know that song. I know the venomous nuances. I wouldn't put myself out there singing (even in front of a close friend) if I didn't think I could do it. So despite his doubt, I took the mic.

Dude, I totally nailed that shit. On expert. Go me. Happy dance for one. First song ever sang in Rock Band - woo hoo! There was no containing my happiness.

It wasn't the first time through that I was awesome. I mean, there was a learning curve of how the game works and what exactly I had to do. I did fail the first time. But in the end, I got through it, and I even got an A. :-) And then we played some other songs, and then I made him let me sing again.

(I would like to note that this does not mean I can sing well. I mean, I could hear myself. It wasn't pretty. In fact, I got an attack of the giggles, that almost made me fail, when I heard how horrible I sounded the second time around. But you don't have to sing well, apparently. You have to be on pitch, and you have to be a good mimic.)

Poor zlionsfan. He probably doesn't even know the monster he created. This might cause me to stop bugging him about MarioKart Wii. Like I need one more thing to take up my time. Man.

But, you know, we need two more people to be a band. I'm sure that if you're nice enough, zlionsfan might let you into 'Seven Years of Bad Luck.' Especially if it helps him unlock something or other. Any takers?*

*What's interesting is that my friends are divided into two camps. Those who will completely understand my excitement, and those (ahem, Kate, ahem) who will mock me endlessly for this. That's fine. I'm ready. Bring it. If I can mimic Alanis's anger, you should be very very afraid.