little survey.

When I was five: I was a little kindergartener, not-so-struggling my way through the alphabet.
High School was: Hellish, if I do say so myself.
I will never forget: The big pants dance! All three Lord of the Rings premieres! Kissing under starlight. Sunbathing in a see-thru bra. Don’t talk about donuts! (Okay, Delia. Hee.) Rescuing Gene from his captors and afterwards, them chasing me, Meru, and Sara at 90 mph. I thought we were dead for sure.
There’s this girl I know who: Is wonderful and amazing and mad at me and I miss her so very much.
By noon I’m usually: Just waking up.
Last night: My boyfriend fell asleep in my bed while we watched Buffy.
When I turn my head left, I see:
When I turn my head right, I see: our bedroom door, home to Sativa’s prom dress – Guss insisted we hang it up, as opposed to leaving it folded in the closet, to prevent wrinkles from ruining Sativa’s prom experience. I can also peer into my closet, where I catch a glimpse of a fabulous shirt I won recently and haven’t had a chance to wear. It makes my boobs look resplendent.
Take my advice, never: try to squish a king-size comforter into a washer that is nearly filled to capacity with one load of dark clothes. Or maybe it’s just our load of dark clothes, as we seem to favor being clad in darkness a lot.. and Guss likes black.. anyway, don’t do it. You’ll end up trying to heave elephantine-like bedding out of the washer, sopping wet, and attempting to corral it into a trash bag for transport to the laundromat.
My ideal breakfast is: a fruit salad and a chocolate-chip-peanut Odwalla bar. We’ve become obsessed, which will be really bad and scary when they’re not on sale 10 for $10 at Safeway anymore and we’re fiending for them.
If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you come during July with all the other out-of-towners who think they’ll fit right in with our central United States cowboy culture and are thoroughly shocked when they realize cowboy hats aren’t normal attire for 90% of the population.