Honest Crap...er, Scrap

It totally looks like I ripped that title off from Tracy, but I didn't. We just have similar immature and slightly foul-mouthed sensibilities, and she's quicker off the post than I am (ha).

My bff who I'm convinced I should have met when I was five because she would have made that whole anxious-childhood-miserable-adolescence thing infinitely more enjoyable (and good on fate for finally rectifying the error) Pam has bestowed the Honest Scrap award on me. I've seen this one around, and honestly, I'm confused by it. It's not for scrapbooking blogs? There's an arm holding a hammer. It's for people who are good at hammering..together...scraps of...knowledge or something? Anyway, it's from Pam and it's an award, and either of those two is more than good enough for me. And my little hammer.


The Honest Scrap Award Rules say that I must:

1. Brag about the award.
2. Include the name of the blogger who gave you the award and link back to that blogger.
3. Choose a selection of blogs that you find brilliant in honest content.
4. Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with this award.
5. List at least ten honest things about yourself.

I've recently done the handing out awards thing and I don't think I frequent enough blogs to do this again so soon -- may I defer the handing on of the award?

Now for ten honest things. Does anybody besides me somehow automatically think that 'honest' equate with embarrassing or confessional? I don't want to gross anybody out here or make everyone run screaming from their laptops. I will try to strike a balance.

1. At one point when I was not exactly right in the head, I used to close my eyes for a few seconds while I was driving. Only on stretches with no other cars around, and only when I was alone in the car. Probably not long enough to make any difference. I don't do that any more.

2. Sometimes when I get other people's mail by mistake -- really wrong, not like I can walk two doors down and return it -- I read it (I've since learned this is possibly a federal offense, so I might not do it now). I just like the anonymous peek into someone else's life. Once at our apartment in Toronto we got a really witty interesting one from some gay guy in B.C. I sort of felt like writing back.

3. We've reached the point in our marriage where my husband's repeated expressions drive me insane. I don't think I have anything that I say all the time, so I really notice when people do. My friend Patti says "I hear ya", which I find adorable. Our friend Tony often says 'therefore -- ergo' which means the same thing, but I still find it endearing. My husband says 'that's for sure' at the end of statements frequently, and it makes me want to rip my ears off and set them on fire. "It's not for sure!" I often scream in my head. "Nothing is certain! You're a goddamned PHYSICIST, how can you not know that? It's a particle, it's a wave, it's the FIFTIETH time you've said that today! I hate you!" I think it's a sign of my personal growth that I never say any of this out loud. He also says dilapitated instead of dated. It's a wonder I haven't driven a stake through his heart.

4. I always let people in front of me when I'm driving. Except those people that zoom up the lane that's ending to get a few metres ahead before merging. Then I'd rather cause a six-car pileup than let them in.

5. It's possible my driver's license should be revoked.

6. I like some of Miley Cyrus's songs (sorry Jane).

7. I am lazy. I want to play the piano well again and write short stories and I theoretically have six kid-free hours during the day Monday to Friday right now. I should be accomplishing more.

8. I'm not sure if my daughter ever starts keeping a diary I will be able to not read it.

9. Sometimes I worry that if I had a choice between being nice and being pretty I wouldn't pick being nice. I guess it's a good thing I don't have a choice.

10. Once when I was buying jeans after having Angus the saleswoman was so skinny and seemed to look at my tummy so pointedly when she asked how old my 'newborn' was, I said he was two months old when really he was ten months old.

11. It drives me batshit when people pronounce it 'nuculer'. Like, if I met Mother Teresa and she had said 'nuculer' I would have been in doubt about her ultimate goodness, despite all the self-sacrificing and healing the sick and living with the poor and everything. People -- it's not that hard to say nuclear. Now people that say Feb-u-ary? Not a problem. Calling a month Feb-ru-ary is just dumb.

There you go. I hope we can still be friends. Everyone else, I mean -- Pam is totally stuck with me. I know where she lives.