Confessions

I have a crush on Bon Jovi (shocker, I know).

I went out to lunch today. Even though it’s only a few days from the biggest event of the year for my company, I went out to lunch while everyone worked feverishly to put out fires and complete tasks. I didn’t (mostly because I didn’t have any fires to put out). I didn’t “work through lunch”. Rather, I went out with a co-worker. I ordered pasta even though I should have had the salad. And I ordered desert too.

I don’t feel guilty for ordering desert.

I can’t wait for fall to arrive. I have a huge stash of decorations in my storage room just waiting to be put on display. I’m going to go all Martha-Fucking-Stewart on my house and I can’t wait.

I would have put above mentioned decorations out last weekend if Michael weren’t home to stop me.

This morning on my way to work, a rusty Toyota cut in front of me and then proceeded to drive 20 miles below the speed limit. I honked my horn when he sat at the green light, and then illegal sped around him, using the turning lane to do so. Also, I shouted many choice words at him when I flew past him in the turn lane.

I can be such a bitch. Example: I think most of the people who sign up for at-home business opportunities are complete whack jobs who can’t hold down a real job. But, on the plus side, it makes me feel like I have a legitimate career in the "real world".

Sometimes I watch America's Next Top Model and veg out on junk food and then mentally beat myself up for not looking anorexic.

Michael and I have discussed living in North Carolina one of these days, and if I had my way and the stars aligned perfectly, I’d be there now.

I hate having to work for a living. I would give just about anything to have bills paid off and be independently wealthy. I have no problem being a house wife. Even though I went into oodles of debt to get a masters degree. I think that degree would be put to better use if my only responsibilities included staying at home to do laundry, cook, clean, work out, and write.
I totally cheated on my Spanish final in high school. It took four clear pens with answers written on pieces of paper wrapped around the ink tube to get me through the test, but I passed the class with an A. For taking four years of Spanish, I can barely speak a lick of it.

I have random dreams about ex-boyfriends. To this day it confuses me.

I’m going to leave work early today. And I’m not going to feel bad about it. I’ve worked my butt off to get ready for this next week, and leaving 30 extra minutes today is all about me and my sanity today.

Anything you want to confess?