Why Is It?

That I have difficulty with the past-tense of the phrase, “blow-dry?” Is it, blown-dry or blow-dried?

That I can be in a dead sleep at 3:00 AM, need to get up to use the restroom, stumble into the restroom hitting every wall and piece of furniture on the way, and yet, when the alarm goes off at 5:55 AM I can hit the snooze button with the accuracy and precision of an Olympic archer?

That the phrase “I know, right?” has become so popular? What’s the real meaning here? Are you hoping the person to whom you’ve just said this is going to affirm your preexisting knowledge of what was just said? I’m so confused now.

That it doesn’t matter what or how much I eat for breakfast, by 10:00 AM, I want to kill someone I’m so hungry?

That Sundays are so exhausting?

That twenty percent of the people do eighty percent of the work?

That I hate flossing so much? I mean, every time that little piece of string shoots through my teeth and hits that little gum flap I practically faint.

That I’ve seen not one, but two Bill Cosby sweaters today? You know the ones……

That people still text while they’re driving even though that crazy video of those British kids has been circulating on YouTube for all of 2009?

That I feel like I need to celebrate my 100^th blog post? Perhaps it’s really that I feel like all my regular readers (not the ones really looking for a recipe for actual seven minute icing by googleing it and just “happen” upon my blog) need to send me presents for my 100^th blog post. Which is just in a matter of a few posts…..like two or three. Which would be a total of five presents. Whatever.

That my wife doesn’t like to eat lunch in places “where she will smell like the restaurant afterward,” but will eat at the Mexican restaurant: every. single. day?

That the reaction of receiving a bad hair cut is similar to the reaction of hearing your five, brand new, sixteen week-old puppies were just eaten by an alligator? As is the grieving period. Granted, I’ve never experienced the “puppy and alligator” issue, but there was this one time in eighth grade when I had a head full of thick, full, black “Zack Morris” hair (in a bowl cut, thank you very much) and the lady took clippers to my head and cut it all off. I was so upset that I jumped into my pool with all my clothes on when I got home. I was obviously not very dramatic as a pre-teen.

That I could eat Lettuce Wraps from P.F. Chang everyday of my adult life?

That even though my office has been away from the restroom for over a year, the public poopers of my building have somehow placed a “house arrest” tracking device on my body and know when I’m going in to use it? I mean, I understand that you are comfortable with your public restroom use, but I am not, so please wait until I finish going number one before you begin your toilet firework display.

You're welcome for that last one.