I'm Very Busy and Important You Know

This morning after successfully squeezing my lunch into the overflowing work refrigerator, and while cleaning up a spilled cup of coffee from my over-tired clumsiness, I started to think of all the ridiculously easy things that I put off simply because I'm very busy. OK fine. Because I'm very lazy.

1. Throwing away old food in the fridge. Sometimes, I actually leave things in the fridge so long that I don't know what they are anymore, causing me to decide to throw the way-to-expensive tupperware away along with it, simply to avoid opening the lid and passing out from extreme potent smell of unknown substance.
2. Getting gas. Sometimes I put it off so long that I'm actually worried that I'll break down somewhere between my house and the BP on the corner.
3. Hanging up laundry. I don't actually mind doing the laundry. But putting the clothes away sometimes never even happens. And then I end up rewashing clean clothes because I can no longer tell the difference.
4. Emptying the dishwasher. Filling it, fine. Emptying it, boring. Time consuming. And I always stab myself when reaching for the silverware.
5. Washing my hair. I will actually plan my hair washing around events. For example, my hair was clean yesterday, but not straightened. And so even though I washed it Saturday night, I rewashed it Sunday morning so that I would not have to redo my hair before work on Monday. Allow me to elaborate here and say that its not the actual hair washing, but the hair styling that I tend to try my darnedest to avoid.
6. Returning library books or Blockbuster movies. Let's just say I'm on my mothers Blockbuster card because I'm pretty sure my name is plastered on the walls of all of the local BB locations saying "Do not rent to this woman." I don't know, it just seems like a waste of perfectly good time to drive to Blockbuster just to drop off a movie. I should just wait until I'm ready to rent the next one, right? And frankly, I'm saving gas by not unnecessary driving around town making returns...therefore putting off having to do #2 above just a little bit longer. (Same goes to say with the library books.)
7. Getting an oil change. I know I know, 3000 miles. But the thought of sitting in a Jiffy Lube waiting room alone for an hour, staring at the coffee bar that never has brewed coffee just sounds to painful to tolerate.
8. Returning unwanted merchandise back to the store. Refer to #6.
9. Saving myself $10 a week and brewing my own damn coffee. But really, its just not the same as it is at Dunks.
10. Carrying heavy/awkward things in to my house from my car. For example, a case of water. Had been in car when weather was not excruciatingly hot so I'd always have water for the gym. Now after 3 months of hotness, and not drinking the boiled water, I finally brought it in and put it in the fridge. Hoping its not now poisonous. Other examples of things that don't make it inside right away...new vacuum, paper shredder, other largely boxed items...

OK, so rereading my list of ten makes me worry that some of these things make you now think I'm dirty. I'm not. My house is very clean. I do shower every day...just not always with hair-washing. And fine, the food in the fridge thing is pretty gross, but admit it...you too should have a lot more tupperware in your cabinet than you do...

Living in a Gangster's Paradise

I've really been stepping outside the box, if I do say so myself. I've once again, removed my high-heeled shoes to walk into a less girlie, more tomboy sort of world. Although this time, when I say "tomboy" I actually mean to say "gangster."

I can no longer say I've never shot a gun. (Sorry Mom.)

I entered Continental Arms in Towson during the course of a small panic attack. Up until that actual moment, I was excited...curious...I really just wanted to see if I could hit even hit the target. But walking in, signing the release, handing over my ID that pictures me in the days before I became a gunwoman...I was terrified. I was given safety glasses and earmuffs to lesser the risk of danger. But where's my helmet? My bullet proof vest? My eyesight and hearing will be no good to me when I'm dead, I thought!

I eventually had to stop panicking when I finally got into the "range." (Notice my fancy terms...more to come.) Picture a large room, with 13 lanes (great number when dealing with GUNS), separated only by a little mini 3 ft. wide wall. Technically, at any given time, some stranger could decide they don't like your shirt and take you out. It actually looks like a scene you'd see in prison, minus the ability to freely shoot guns at targets....

Anyway...it took me a while to work up the courage to actually shoot. I think I ended up shooting 10 bullets over the course of an entire hour, where everyone else probably shot that in one run...but that's OK. I had no idea what to expect when I pulled the trigger of the very scary handgun...a ".45" if you really want to get specific. This gun (all guns maybe) definitely has a "kick." What's a kick? Kick your leg. That's a kick. And this is the motion my entire upper body encountered right after I pulled the trigger.

I'm told I hit the target more often than not. I've got a battle wound (long manicured nails and shooting not a good combo.) And today, I've answered to my new nickname of "Sniper." So I'd say think twice before you mess with me...I could be armed and dangerous...

(Sorry Mom.)