Age: 20. ALLLLLMOST 21. Every year I always get really excited about my birthday because I think, "Once I'm a year older, people will take me seriously!" But then they don't anyway because my face is perpetually 15. That's okay. I'll be forever young. I'll be 62 and STILL look like I'm 15.
Bed size: Twin. I used to think that people who slept in full-size or even bigger beds were rich, or just plain spoiled.
Chore you hate: Cleaning anything. As a grade-A slob, I'm only slightly concerned when I see growth in the vast recesses of my room.
Dreams: When it comes to bizarre dreams, I think I could beat out pretty much anyone. And yet nobody ever wants to hear about them.
Essential start of your day: plenty of sleep and food. When I'm without either, I'm filled with rage. RAGE.
Favorite color: Green. I had to write an essay about this for my nonfiction class. I'm sure it's very exciting and I will make you all read it someday. Also red is awesome. As in red with RAGE.
Gold or silver: siiiiiiiillllver and goooooooollllllllldddd....silllllver and goooollllldddd...sorry, what was the question?
Height: 5'3"ish or 5'4". I can never tell. My friend Eric is about 5'4" and he was very excited the day he discovered he was taller than me. "Shrimp!" ONE HALF INCH, ERIC.
Instruments I play (or have played): Piano. I took lessons until I was 16, and I've played on and off ever since. I also played clarinet in junior high, which I'm sure I could've gotten good at if I tried, but because the band teacher hated me I didn't want to try. I spent my last year in band in the back with my friend Becky and the trumpet section making fun of the teacher.
Job title: Moron who dances outside holding that "Bucks 4 Books" sign
Kids: At least two, but a third one may have slipped in there somewhere. It's hard to tell.
Live: Yes, I'm alive, although I've heard you get great wifi in the afterlife.
Mom's name: Mopsy, Ma, Muh-thurrr, Squaw (it's rare when we call her that, but it's only natural she gets called "Squaw," since we call my dad "Chief")
Nickname: Weasel, Leez, Leez Leez, Mooch Pooch, Pooch, P, Liesley, Leezul, Gretl, Weez, Lissa, Lah-weez
Overnight hospital stays: Never have. At least, that's what they WANT me to believe. But I know the truth...
Pet peeve: At the moment, unreliable people. Also chompers and gum poppers. Worst sound ever. Once Kurt texted me "Why is the sound of people eating so aggravating?" and I responded, "Why does the sound of people popping their gum sound like legs breaking? It's because I broke their legs."
Quote from a movie: "I used to be legit. I was too legit. I was too legit to quit. but now I'm not legit. I'm unlegit. And for that reason, I must quit."
Right or left handed: Right, but I do all my punching with my left hand. It's the reason I lose every fight.
Siblings: A BILLION!!!!!! No, but seriously I have 10. 7 brothers, 3 sisters, 7 gazillion nieces and nephews.
Time you wake up: 8:00am. It is pretty much physically impossible for me to sleep in.
Underwear: There's something, just something about the word "underwear" that makes it innately hilarious. When I was little I'd be sitting in the living room with Heidi and Tyler and Tyler would stage whisper across the room to Heidi, "UNDERWEAR!" and I'd just lose it. I still do to this very day.
Vegetables you dislike: celery. Bland, stringy, loud. Not even when it's smothered in peanut butter can I bear it.
What makes you run late: everything and nothing. I can't remember the last time I was on time for anything. Wait, that's a lie. I was on time to church last Sunday and that's when the bishop announced, "Our prayers have been answered! We no longer need to pray for apartment 6."
X-rays you've had done: Teeth, Wrists, Knee. At age 10 I knocked out my two front teeth and broke both my wrists. Not the best year. Then last year I sprained my knee. Also not the best year. What is it about every ten years I injure myself? I dread turning 30.
Yummy food you make: Yummy chicken. No, really, that's what it's called. That stuff is fantastic.
Zoo animal: MONKEYS! I hate movies about monkeys, but I sure would love to be one. Those guys can do anything. They have hands for feet, they swing through trees, eat mangoes, fling poo, you name it. I envy that lifestyle. Envy and RAAAAAGE.
My roommates will probably kill me for putting up these pictures, but they made me laugh.
One night Brett and I just really felt like putting on mustaches. This is probably why no one sits next to us in church.
In other news, I'm going to be a glorified babysitter for these guys for about two months, which should be awesome. I'll be sure to put at least one picture up. I'll try to smile at least once.
7 comments:
Just a half-inch, eh? Imagine, if you will, a world where people design things with little concern over "just" a half-inch. Airplanes crashing, skyscrapers tumbling down, cars running amok on the freeways, no way to tell short people from REALLY short people....chaos, I say.
You forgot to add "Lies" to your list of nicknames. Also, "The Reason That I Live and Breathe."
P.S. My authentication word for this comment was "bully." Do you pick those out yourself? And is that a noun, verb, or exclamation?
Okay, Im in the Benson waiting until my next class and I'm pretty sure that this random girl sitting next to me already hates me because I have been having a nearly-uncontrollable fit of giggles and other manly noises. While I will never admit this a public setting (this doesn't count) I am actually glad to be related to you. haha!
Glorified babysitter? More like glorified SLAVE! Be prepared for the most mind-numbing work you've ever done. Well, except for holding up a sign on the side of a road.
You look perfectly legit in that 'stache. Your roommate does not.
I think that to other people I may always looked 8. The other day I was watching a dance class when a little girl came up and asked if I was in second grade. I assured her that I am am 14 and in the eighth grade, NOT second. She told me I was lying. Talk about RAGE.
I thought your post said you had 10.7 brothers. It made me giggle.
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