007

I'm Love. Charlottalove. And I've been tagged by my chocoholic friend Beth at BooksEtc to share 7 random facts about me. Here they are, in no particular order.

001. My biggest fear is getting in a horrible accident. I have no idea why. I don't enjoy driving in larger cities as cars whizz and zip by. I do speed but not excessively. It seems to me though, that other drivers think they have a License To Kill or something. Scares me tremendously.

002. I was a senior in high school visiting my boyfriend after school. His little brother had borrowed a pencil from me. As I got in my car to leave, my beau's brother threw the pencil into the open car window...right into my eye. I immediately started crying. It wasn't so much a GoldenEye but definitely red!

003. The World Is Not Enough! I once wanted to travel to outer space. I wonder how long an intergalactic passport would take to process...

004. I love to bike. Despite flipping off my bike too many times to mention, I love the thrill of wind in my face. I have no idea why my injuries haven't discouraged me altogether. Seems I was just meant to Die Another Day.

005. I went to South Carolina last weekend to purchase fireworks for the New Year. While I was there I happened to step into a store where I happened to glance at some jewelry and happened to find a few pieces I couldn't live without. I'm a sucker for shiny silver. I'm not much of a Goldfinger...unless it's white gold.

006. I was carded on my 21st birthday in Nevada. I was on a road trip to California and since it was my birthday, my buddies decided we would make a quick stop to drop a few dollars. We found some hole-in-the-wall-wanna-be Casino Royale and I plunked a few coins. Before I had time to lose all my money, a security guard approached and asked for my ID. There were several of us on the road trip and my purse was in another vehicle - the one car we were waiting on. Since I couldn't prove my age, I was asked to leave.

007. I start back to school on Tuesday. I'm terrified but I know it's the first step to a fulfilling career. During a particular stressful day during undergrad, I exclaimed, "Once I get my bachelor's, I'm never going back to school!" Well, I've learned I'll Never Say Never Again.

Here's where I would take 7 others. If you want to participate, post a link to your blog in my comments.

Shh...this post is For Your Eyes Only...

Did I do that...again?

I got tagged by Chrissy. I'm supposed to tell you 8 random facts about myself. I'm supposed to post the rules. I supposed to pass it along to 8 others. I suppose I like to change things up a bit.

I did something stupid on Wednesday - hurt myself and ended up going to a doctor yesterday to make sure nothing was broken. Unfortunately, it's not the first time - and probably won't be the last - when I've ended up in pain due to...ME. So, I'm changing the meme to a list of stupid things I've done - to myself - which have resulted in pain. Lots of pain.

1. When I was little, my future neighbors started construction on the lot next to our home. I had just learned to ride my bike and wanted to impress the construction workers. (May I point out here that my injury was the result of me trying to impress guys, albeit construction workers. Note how stupid I get when a male is present.) Picture me, this little girl proudly riding her large, banana seat bike in figure eight's to capture the attention - and hearts - of the muscular, sweaty workers when BAM!! I hit an invisible rock and fell right on my face. Sure my hands hurt from how I'd landed but the bruising my ego took was unbearable. I ran into the house and didn't bike until the house construction was complete.

2. TheDeanInc and I were practicing our sweet biking skills one day. This consisted of jumping the curb, balancing for a second, then hopping off the curb. He was pretty good and I wanted to be like him. (Although I'm trying to impress a boy, this one doesn't count since it's my brother and that would just be gross!) After watching him successfully complete the trick, I attempted. Mine went something like this: Hop curb, grab handle bars as they fly out of hands, turn handle bars away from approaching mailbox, lean towards grass for soft landing, hop off curb suddenly, fly forward, land chin onto pavement, scream, head to emergency room, get stitches. Needless to say, TheDeanInc has sweet curb hopping skills but I have a cool scar!

3. In 7th grade I fell in love...with my Social Studies teacher. (Again ~ guys make me dumb!) He was tall, dark, and handsome. Of course, I was short, white, and illegal. This still didn't stop me from running home on the first day of class to tell Mama Mia about the new teacher. In an effort to accurately portray his height, I stood on my baby sister's booster chair. After reaching as high as I could to say, "He's this tall," my thoughts apparently were centered only on him instead of the law of gravity. I quickly was reminded as I fell and snapped my arm backwards. Too many hours later, I was home from the emergency room with a cast on my now broken arm. The next day of class, Mr. Dreamy asked what had happened. Again I turned stupid and said, "I fell off a booster chair." Um, a 7th grader still using a booster chair? I suppose that relationship was doomed before it started.

4. My freshman year of college I started hanging out with a guy from California. (Yet another guy who would see me turn stupid). He was so cool. I wanted to be so cool too. He rode a longboard to class. Suddenly I felt a huge need to longboard to class too. Never mind the fact that I'd never seen or been on a longboard before in my life. In an attempt to talk to him more, I asked if he would teach me how to longboard. In his uber coolness, as could only be indicated by his one word California response, he uttered, "Totally!" Lesson 1 was balancing on the board. Cool California Guy ran and jumped on the board and glided toward me. My attempt was a little less graceful. I walked toward the board, put one foot on, lifted my other foot and fell flat on my butt. Actually, flat on my wrist. Lesson 1, which was as far as I got, ended with me at the doctor's office getting a splint on my sprained wrist.

5. This one could count for two (unfortunately). Sophomore year of college, my apartment of 4 girls became best friends with an apartment of 4 guys. (Guys: here I go with that stupid thing again). They invited our apartment to go rope swinging. I wasn't too sure I wanted to go but went with the notion that I didn't have to jump if I didn't want to. I watched each of the guys jump and even two of my roommates. They made it look easy. You climb the tree, grab the rope, jump out away from the tree, swing like Tarzan, and land in the water before the rope returns to the shore. After much convincing, I decided to go. I grabbed the rope and jumped. Everything was in slow motion. Yet too fast to correct. I hadn't leaped out from the tree far enough to clear the bank. This would have been fine if I had grabbed the rope a mere 5 inches higher. Alas, my feet hit the ground and dragged before I landed in the water. Since the creek was full of melted snow from the mountain, my whole body tingled in the frigid water. I was numb long enough to walk back to the car without pain. Once home, I realized I couldn't walk. Another trip to the doctor informed me I had sprained both ankles. Tip for the day: Don't sprain both ankles at once. It's incredibly hard to get anywhere!

6. My junior year of college included yet another trip to the emergency room. One afternoon, a group of us were bored in the apartment. Bored = trouble. We were discussing fights we'd been in at school growing up. I mentioned I'd always been too scared to fight back any bullies who pestered me. In an attempt to teach me better defense skills, my roommate ordered me to get in a fighting stance. She was going to walk me through a proper fight. We crouched ready to pounce. We stared at each other and started laughing. Then I lunged. She lunged back. We collided. We fell. My leg popped. A trip to the hospital, a dose of medicine (that made me hit on every male nurse around), a cast, and some crutches, my broken leg adventure had begun. Needless to say, I'm still not very good at fighting.

7. One day in college I was late for class. I jumped on my bike and raced down the street. I heard a clickityclickityclickity noise in rhythm to my speed. I slowed down: click ety click ety click ety. I slowed more: cl i ck et y cl i ck et y cl i ck et y. Obviously something was catching and, with each cycle of the wheel, making a clicking noise. I looked down at the gears. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary; my shoelaces were tied and my pants were pegged so as not to catch on the gear teeth. I pedaled once. Clickety. Where was it coming from?! I looked up JUST IN TIME to see the parked car 'jump' out in front of my bike. My bike stopped as I continued forward. I landed on my face looking the opposite direction. I never found the source of that clicking noise either. (Okay, so that one didn't involve a guy and I didn't need to go to the hospital. It still hurt okay!)

8. Wednesday, September 26, 2007: I was meeting some friends at 6:30 and knew I'd probably have some spare time. Already in my car, I raced back into the house to grab a book for my wait. As I ran in, I noticed Julia Gulia at the computer with a perplexed expression. Trying to determine if she was okay, I momentarily forgot my hand was still on the door and slammed it shut. My first response was laughter, as in, "Did I seriously just do that?!" The immediate swelling indicated I actually had. I did meet up with my friends later only I wasn't carrying a book. My new accessory was an icepack for my hand. The doctor put me at ease by saying it is only a deep tissue bruise. He also suggested I elevate my hand to decrease the swelling. This means I walk around like I have a question, want to give you a High 5, or play one handed pattycake.

So there you have it. Eight stupid events in my life that have resulted in pain. I'm either really clumsy or a masochist. Neither one sounds too appealing. Oh well. High 5!

Fives

I was tagged by Burg with a 5-meme. It's supposed to be about me but since Father's day is this weekend, I'm changing the rules up a bit. Here are the 5's of P2.

Five Snacks P2 Enjoys:

a.) Riesens

b.) Glass of lemonade

c.) Hershey Almond Bar
d.) Cheese and crackers

e.) Oreos

Five Shows I watched with P2 when I was younger:

a.) Are You Being Served

b.) Mr. Bean

c.) Get Smart

d.) The Red Green Show

e.) Star-Trek: the next generation

Five Things P2 Would Do If He Were a Millionaire:

a.) Buy all the tools he doesn't have yet.

b.) Buy a Cadillac XLR Roadster.

c.) Buy a house with an entire wing for his "workshop".

d.) Invest.

e.) Put his last 4 children through college.

Five great habits:
a.) He loves to read and knows something about anything.
b.) The most dependable guy I know.
c.) Kisses my mom every day.

d.) He vacuums and wipes fingerprints off cabinet doors.

e.) Always puts the toilet seat down.

Something P2 Should Never Wear Again:

a.) Two Words: "Yellow Pants"

And yes, that is yours truly on the left. I should add that I will never again wear: crazy shorts that match my sister's, hightop ReeBoks with velcro, or a gallon of hair spray while hiking.

Happy Father's Day P2. And Happy Father's Day to all you "dads" out there!

1...2...3... TAG you're it!

I was tagged by Dorky Dad on Friday to share 10 things about myself. First I was surprised to learn some unknown blog personality had tagged me. It made for some interesting conversation around the house.

"Did you read my blog today? I was tagged!"
What?
"I was tagged. It means that someone out in this world wide web of ours tagged my blog. I have to write 10 things about myself on Monday."
Who tagged you?
"Dorky Dad."
Dad has a blog?
"No...Dorky Dad. It's a blog I enjoy reading. He lives in, well, I actually have no idea."
Charika...you have problems.

So since we've established I have problems, jumping into this "10 unique facts about Charlotta-love" should be simple. I, of course, don't like to be simple. So instead of just listing, I'll write you a story. Sit back in that corporate swivel chair of yours, read quickly before the phone rings, and enjoy.

Saturday I allowed myself to sleep in until 8:30. I (1)typically set my alarm for 5:55 to insure I'm out of bed by 6:15. I ate (2)my favorite meal of the day: breakfast. Every morning I look forward to Kashi with rice milk. It may sound bland but add some blueberries, banana, raisins, or coconut and it's simply delicious! I sorted through the paper and caught up on the local happenings. (3)I always read something while I eat breakfast. It varies between the paper, a magazine, or a book. Mama Mia had to be trained to not talk to me while I eat breakfast. I will give simple answers laced with irritation since (4)breakfast is my quiet time and I don't like to be interrupted. Plus, who really talks first thing in the morning anyway?

Finished, I went upstairs and changed into my gym clothes. I relayed my agenda to Mama Mia in case she needed me and was off. I first stopped at a garage sale. (5)I love yard sales. A few weeks ago I snagged a wet suit for $5. This weekend I only bought a cd but still felt it worthwhile in my getting up early. I finally made it to the gym. The front desk girl and I chatted a bit about our dating lives. More so about hers since mine is pretty scarce. Okay fine. We only talked about her dating life. Geesh. She is Jewish and (6)I am Mormon so we relate with the difficulties in finding someone not only interesting but also of our faith. While conversing, Nicki's lunch was delivered by a local Mexican restaurant. (7)I love Mexican food.

After talking a little longer, I decided I needed to actually work out. That was my original plan in going to the gym. I first needed to make a quick stop to the ladies room. I washed my hands and looked into the mirror. That's when I noticed I had not washed my face yet. (8)I wash my face in the shower but since I planned to shower after the gym, I still had visible cream marks on my face. White, pasty cream for polka-dotted sunburns. Or zits as most people call them. (9)I don't have zits. I prefer to call them polka-dotted sunburns.

Polka-dotted sunburns. On my face. Covered with white, pasty cream. How many people saw me? Mama Mia, however many fellow garage sale shoppers, Nicki, the delivery guy. Boy oh boy. It would have been nice for someone to mention I had white pasty cream on my face some point in my morning routine.

It's okay though. Made for an interesting blog. And apparently (10)I'm addicted to blogging.

Here is where I'm supposed to pass along the love and invite 10 other bloggers to share 10 things about themselves. I'm not going to though. If you want, email me and I'll come up with 5 random questions for you to answer on your blog.