Inundated and overwhelmed. The news, the media coverage of the news... I.Am.Up.To.My.Eyeballs. I can barely think straight anymore.
First of all, there really is only so much Michael Jackson coverage that I can take. As it is, every time I've woken up since Friday morning, I've had an MJ song in my head. The other day it was Black & White. This morning it was Don't Stop Till You Get Enough. Bottom line, as much as I appreciate the man's musical genius, as much as I think he was a very damaged and misunderstood person, I am fully and completely saturated by the media coverage. Please Stop I've Had Enough... Whooo!
And then there was Ed McMahon, who got at least one night of media coverage before being relegated to the ranks of Michael-died afterthoughts. Unlike poor Farrah, who battled valiantly for years only to succumb to the cancer on the same day that Michael OD'ed thereby dropping her passing to barely mentioned within 3 hours. Sad, but suffering no more, even if she did take second billing.
And there we had our three, cause celebrity deaths always come in threes. Ed kicked it off, Farrah was the second act, and then there was Michael and his never-ending grand finale...
Then, inbetween All-Michael's-Death-All-The-Time coverage, we find out yesterday that Billy Mays died. Honestly, they're playing up this bump on the head theory, but it wouldn't surprise me one bit if it were found to be a heart attack or stroke. The man practically yelled me off the couch during every commercial he was in. I always felt like his veins were going to explode during the intensity of any one of his pitches. That said, 50 is way too young, and my heart goes out to his family. Although, his death kicks off a whole new set, and I'm waiting with baited breath and trepidation to see who the next two are going to be.
With any luck the next two will be Bernie Madoff and Robert Allen Stanford; the Ponzi Profiteers who bilked BILLIONS from their investors, thereby destroying and or ending countless lives just so they could have bigger yachts.
Madoff's lawyer is asking for only 12 years. Which is agreeable to me, if those 12 years consisted of acts too unspeakable to mention, followed by watching the same happen to his wife, the "beloved Ruth". Cause you know that snapper knew exactly what was going down as she was spending 90K on drapes. And these news reports that have her 'forfieting 80 million and is only left with 2.5 million' Ugghhh! First of all, she didn't FORFIET anything; she and her husband STOLE IT and the government, through stolen property provisions in the law are getting it back. How is it that she's 'agreed' to do anything. I don't care if she threw a bloody fit, her consent should fall into the category of "I don't give a damn what you say you thieving beotch", or somewhere in that neighborhood. The fact that she's left with 2.5 CENTS is too much. If she's not going to prison, then at least let her wind up homeless, vehicle-less and penniless like so many of their investors. OK, Bernie, 12 years... Per Victim for you, sentance to be carried over by any and all people that benefited from your so-called earnings. That seems fair.
Then you have crazy-eyed Robert Allen Stanford. OMG! How did people trust this wild-eyed smiling psycho with their money? I don't get it. Dude looks completely unhinged in every clip I see of him. At least Madoff presented himself as sane and stable, but Stanford's victims had to have been blind. How could anyone look at this guy and think to themselves that he's a good bet to be in charge of my hard-earned money? And Stanford's lawyer keeps claiming that he's not a flight risk... Yeah, and I'm a fucking smurf. They couldn't even find this guy for months. Besides, isn't asking for bail basically asking us to trust him? Buddy, you don't have enough time left on this earth for me to trust you again for anything other than wasting my air.
Despite all of this tearful, blood-pressure-raising news over the past week, I'm still trying to find reasons to be grateful, because it is my honest opinion that showing gratitude in dark times is one of the surest ways to get out of those dark times...
So, I am grateful... EXTREMELY grateful...
Because George W. Bush still isn't President of the United States anymore.
Hallelujah!
I feel better already.
Sometimes it seems like so long ago that I first dropped my girl off at Kindergarten... and other times it seems like just yesterday. So, yeah, at two something this afternoon, my daughter will graduate (with honors and a President's award, thank you very much!) and no longer be a 'kid' per se, but a pre-teen middle school student. Lord help us! ;-)
I love you Jos, and couldn't be more proud of you if you were my own kid... Oh wait... TEASING girlie (man they get emotional at this age!), I love you! This LMFAO is just for you~
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Jim was sure that this was the manhole cover he had entered...
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Class, this is why you want a city job when you get out of school, they'll even hire idiots. Timmy, I suggest you go down and apply today.
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Stevie Wonder couldn't understand why the ATM wouldn't take his PIN.
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Clean up on aisle 11... bring a forklift.
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Yes, sergeant, but this is magic non-flammable paper.
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A true hometown restaurant takes all of it's customers into account... even the Siamese twins.
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Whoopsie! Better lay off the wine this time!
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Little Jimmy didn't know whether to try to bounce it or bite it first. He didn't want to choke, but his mom always scolded him for eating things that had been on the floor...
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What luck, Larry! I got your date for the prom right here!
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Of course they laugh at it, sir, it has a little Joker smiley face on it.
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I hope they're not out of baby targets like last time, they have them advertised for Pete's Sake.
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Ohhh, can I touch your... medals...?
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Best. Diet. Ev-ar!
So yesterday, I'm driving along, minding my own business, headed to town to pick up milk and lotto tickets and God started dealing with me about smoking...
God: You haven't had a cigarette today. Even though you're driving, and normally you chain-smoke like a felon when you drive. So I was thinking, just don't. Just for today, don't.
Me: Crap. This is always SO much fun.
God: You know you've gotta quit. You've needed to quit for a long time.
Me: Yes, I know.
God: Today.
Me: I knew you were gonna say that.
God: Today, or you can't go any further on your path. You won't progress.
Me: I heard you. I haven't smoked yet today. I'll quit today. Just for today. If I tell myself that, maybe it will be easier.
God: Sure, but if you start again, OUR progress will backslide and it will take longer for me to promote you to the next level... that, and I'll nag you again. And in case you hadn't noticed, I'm pretty persistent.
Me: I know. I need to sacrifice something, huh? Something hard.
God: If it were easy, it wouldn't be a sacrifice. "...it's the hard that makes it great."
Me: Please shut up. And I better hit the Mega Jackpot for this... tonight.
God: Just get through today. You'll see. You won't regret it.
Me: I say this with all due love and respect; I hate you sometimes.
God: I love you too. Now, don't fuck up.
Me: God! Did you just say fuck?!?
God: Had to put in in language you'd understand. Wait till I start dealing with you on the language, girlie... you're gonna wish you were still quitting cigarettes.
Me: And I want my house too. The one I found on the net the other day and am totally in love with. I want it. And I want to pay cash for it and any and all upgrades, changes, repairs and decorating. And I want to always be able to afford any and every thing that ever comes up regarding that house.
God: Quit smoking today, as of right now, and I won't strike you with lightening and suck you up in an F-5 tornado, how's that sound?
Me: *pause* Sounds lovely. Thanks.
God: Don't mention it.
So, I quit smoking yesterday for the third time in *ahem* 25 years. (out of 38 for those of you counting). And so far I haven't killed anyone... cause I keep reminding myself that jail really, Really, REALLY sucks. Good thing the step-son went home Monday evening. Gotta go... I need to check my lotto ticket.
Calm yourself, Aria. *deepbreaths*
See Y'all!
See what complaining that things are all sunshine and daises will get you?
It's basically asking the Universe to sprout a tornado and stomp on your daisies. I should never worry that things are going too well... I am, after all, married... with a step-son. Therefore, no matter how un-blogable life may seem at the time, it will always pass.
So here I am again on Monday, posting late as hell with less than 6 hours sleep because we road-tripped to Austin and the only one that got any sleep before 6 am was the turbo-terror-tot. But, it wasn't just hubby and I. This time we had his older son with us. Because the boy has just graduated from high school and is hiding out from the real world and is visiting with us for the longest he has visited my husband ever before in his natural born life cause he's pissed off his own mother so much that she's ready to KILL him which is just oh so nice... for them *eyeroll*
*deepbreathsthinkhappythoughtsdeepbreaths*
OK, this is not my first foray into the world of evil stepmother. My ex-husband had two girls from his first marriage too and they were 12 & 13 when my daughter was born. Besides, my daughter was 8+ when the turbo-terror-tot was born, so even with my own children, it's a situation of much-older, quasi-grown child that lives outside my own home, assimilating to life with not only me, but a munchkin and the way we do things in the day-to-day in my (our) home.
In a way, all of my step-children have been lucky too, because I understand step-parenting from both sides of the coin. I grew up as a step-child. Both of my parents have been remarried to their current spouses for almost three times the length of their marriage to each other. And I had one step-parent that made the job look like... how can I put this in gentle unoffensive terms?... someone trying to do a root-canal without anesthesia on a naturally twitchy person who has a low pain threshold; and the other step-parent made the job look like it was the most easy and natural thing in the world, (which, I knew even then, was far from the truth) and treated me like their own daughter... well as best as they could. See the thing that I've discovered about being a step-parent is that IT, not parenting, is the hardest job in the world.
Mainly because you're in essence putting your parenting into effect on someone who is (or was) being raised by someone who's values or personality or way of doing things is so far removed from the person that you're living with that it caused those two people to divorce. They're generally, big differences. Plus, they're not yours, so discipline and whatnot are a sticky situation no matter what you do. Then you have the child's feelings toward you and toward the parent that you're with, along with whatever is being said about you by the other parent. It's a parenting mine-field combined with a spousal-relationship mine-field; and if you're lucky most of you will get out of said fields still being able to walk or not being maimed too badly to go on into later years and their adult lives... and if not, well, the possibilities are endless and none of them are pretty.
Anyway... step-son is here, and has been for several days... again. Two weeks ago he was here for over a week (before that we'd seen him about once a year because that's the way the boy wanted it) So, we're in the 'growing pains phase' of getting to know you. And before I start bitching, I'd like to point out that I am aware that I'm oh so very blessed in the step-child department. All of my step-children have been good kids with no real deal-breaker problems... none of them ever went out of their way to torment me or physically injure me, but with that said...
He's driving me crazy.
First of all, he's huge. Not fat-wise, tall-wise. Six foot eight inches in this itty bitty trailer is a bit overwhelming. And he moves mopily... I know that probably doesn't make sense, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. He does everything super-slow and super-cautious and he doesn't put common sense into the equation at all. For example; I finally got it through to him that when the ice cube bucket runs out, the last person who got an ice cube needs to empty all the ice cube trays into the bucket and refill the trays with water for the next go around of filling the ice bucket. OK, but this boy is so household-task ignorant that he was refilling one tray at a time, putting it in the freezer and then repeating the process for the next five trays. He did dishes the other day, and was using the same process. Hastily scrub one plate, rinse one plate gingerly under running water, put one plate into drainboard... scrub one fork like it's a rattlesnake, hold under running water for 1.2 seconds otherwise you might get your whole hand wet, put fork in drainboard however it lands... scrub one...
OMG. *deepbreathsmaintaincomposuredeepbreaths*
Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because I have been doing the housewife thing for so long that I've honed everything down to a systematic science. Or maybe it's because kids these days are so used to automatic ice makers in fridge doors and pitching everything into a dishwasher that they all are really this clueless. Then again, maybe not. My 10 year old knows how to wash dishes. My step-daughters, who's mother was a super-slob the entire time I was married to my ex, knew how to wash dishes. So, I don't know. I know that none of them have ever known how to put anything back where they found it, so that's probably normal.
And, I do know I'm trying desperately hail Mary full of grace... to not go absolutely sideways on this boy. Because if it was just this mopiness, and ignorance of housekeeping protocol I could probably cope much better... But, it's not.
It's that he thinks he's grown.
And he keeps talking to my husband like he's scolding him. And my husband kinda puts up with it cause he doesn't want to ruin the 'bonding' happy time that they're enjoying now, cause who else can he act like a twelve year old with...
And I want to ring this kid's fucking neck when he does it.
So I finally spoke up and told him: We Are Grown and You Are Not. And when you've had a couple of kids and a long term relationship and a house payment and a car payment and a 9 to 5 with an hour commute each way and you've been living that life for more than a minute, THEN you're grown... and guess what? When THAT happens; We Will STILL Be More Grown Than YOU.
*deepbreathsleavetheroombeforeyouwindupinjaildeepbreaths*
So, yesterday's post was supossed to show up at 8 AM but I didn't discover that it hadn't posted until 8 PM... Yeah, none too happy about that! I'd like to say that the same thing happened this morning... but as I stated yesterday... I don't like to lie.
No, I'm late as hell cause we went grocery shopping at 9pm got home at 11:30 and then stayed up until 4:30 in the morning watching two movies. Gran Torino, it was awesome and had a twist ending, which I love, cause I hate figuring out everything before it happens... I like a little surprise in my entertainment. Biggest surprise to me was that I liked it, honestly, cause I soooo didn't expect to from the comercials I saw.
And then we watched Madea Goes To Jail. Now y'all know Tyler Perry's Madea is crazy, but O!M!G! there were parts when I was laughing so hard I was coughing and stompin' the floor... and that, y'all is how I wound up not even posting my LMFAO Friday till after 12...
I apologize, but hey... y'all get all weekend to view it... and tell all the fathers you know about it... and all the wives and girlfriends of the fathers too! Hell, tell the neighborhood dog if he'll spread it around... OK, enough about me, on to what you really want ~ LMFAO Friday
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Ya gotta put it in terms the employees understand, Ted.
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U-Haul, Shmoo-Haul! I'll get it home with this car right here, and yes, I will take that bet, Tom.
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Hey kid, you don't look anything like the girl in the picture either.
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Everything you need to make sure that kid sleeps through the entire six-hour flight!
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Playground: Guantanamo Bay Edition
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Chevy's idea of incognito... the other side has a sign that says, "Not Bankrupt".
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The right man got the marquee job, Fred, now get over it...
(ps y'all, I'm almost dead certain that's out by the airport here in Houston)
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When'd they start putting water at the beach?
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Hold on tight honey, I'm finally gonna take you to meet my parents...
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Ping and Li couldn't understand why no one would sit with them on the train.
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Mitch didn't understand why he kept getting heavy-breather calls from someone who wanted him to deliver giant melons.
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Rick unexpectedly felt a surge of appreciation for his mechanic...
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Luketh, I proclaimeth henceforth, you are the spawneth of my loins.
Happy Father's Day!
I know I've been getting bad about blogging on a regular schedule. Even my daughter, who was home from school Monday, gave me a stern talking to about not having a new post up that day for her to read in her infirmary-contained state.
I agreed, calling myself a "Bad Blogger-Mom!" loudly and with emphasis. It seems that ever since Aria'z Ink turned one, I've lost my Mojo. I don't know how or why it happened. I can speculate that ever since I read The Secret and have been trying to put the principles of happiness to work in my life, the writing has become more difficult... mainly because I don't have anything going on to bitch and break out my shotgun over. And, with me at least, that really puts a damper on my writing.
I've been writing for years, and I've come to realize that I'm much better when I have drama and gripes to pour my words out over. And that when things are going well, and I'm fairly happy, and I'm focusing my energies on positive wonderful things... well, the inkwell dries up. Which sucks.
I can post that my amazing, super-smart, gorgeous daughter is winning the President's Award, and about to graduate 5th grade, making her an (almost) middle-school student, and that she's started her own blog that she's named after mine, Josie'z Ink... but I can only blog that once, ya know?
I can post that my two-year-old son is growing like a weed and is adding to his vocabulary daily, including, much to my chagrin (even if it's adorable cause he says it with emphasis and in proper context) the word 'shit' and that he's graduated from flushing electronics down the toilet to stopping up the bathroom sink and then turning on the water full blast so that he can play in it, thereby flooding the bathroom... but that kind of news is already old.
And hubby and I are totally getting along now, which is NO fun whatsoever to post about. My body is still waging all out war against me, but in ways that I've already discussed, so snore.
So I ask you, what do I do? I refuse to make stuff up. But I've got nothing but sunshine and friggin' daisies goin' on over here. Who the hell wants to read that icky-sticky-give-you-cavities-sweet... *puke* I don't want to read that crap post after post, why would I subject you to it?
I'm sure not gonna start writing ho-hum technical posts that concentrate on my keywords and SEO. I subscribe to those blogs, and rarely actually read them... unless I'm looking for something specific... whatever, not gonna write that stuff.
I guess my choices are to be insanely happy and Mojo-less or Bitch-a-saurus Rex and have plenty of hilarious things to post as I work the nerves of everyone around me into frayed dental floss and I can't even stand to be around myself...
Hmmm... tough choice. Really. I love writing funny posts. I love skewering the incompetent and lazy in the pages of this blog. I also love laughing from the inside out and not being on the brink of divorce because I'm such a snapper. I guess this is one I have to use The Secret to meditate on, because I want it all. I want my cheesecake and eat it too. Happy and Plenty-to-post-about.
Of course, I'm not sure I'll know what to do with myself, but I am willing to take that chance...
Excuse me for typing slowly, I'm trying to see myself in the computer monitor.
Because I'm sure that if I turn my head to the right and lift up the hair on the left side of my head, I'll see a vein the size of a screw you spell check, I'm NOT capitalizing the name of a bean lima bean throbbing and undulating like it's trying to do something on Dancing With The Stars. And this lima-bean-vein is very social, because everything makes it recruit other lima beans in my head and gets them all to dance more vehemently in a cacophonous non-rhythm... everything.
The light, the fan blowing on my neck, the fact that my son wants to watch either Twister, or Ironman or Transformers and will probably con hubby into putting on one of them despite my wanting to hear nothing more decibel-laden than James Taylor, who has never ever heard of bass, God Bless Him, turned up to barely a whisper, or better yet nothing coming from the speakers. But hey, that's not a luxury that mothers get. Silence.
Silence, (and I'm not talking about 'trouble silence', that's a completely different experience filled with a tense hospital-or-homicide feel to it) honest, relaxing, the kids didn't set the house on fire silence... that is the grand prize jackpot of the Mama-lottery. Which is why it is so coveted, so revered. The odds of getting it are astronomical. You'd have better odds trying to be the single ticket winner of the Mega Million when the jackpot is over 400 million.
And just like said mythical Mega-jackpot, mothers who get good silence don't know what the hell to do with it.
Oh, we think we will, when we're surrounded with shrieking running kids and movies with action scenes that make the dishes fall out of the kitchen cabinets and husbands cutting sheet metal right outside the door, right next to the pride of cats in heat. In those moments we think we would know what to do in the mythical blissful silence. We'd lay on our the-house-is-spotless couch with our feet up, eating the best cheesecake ever and sipping it down with Martha-Stewart-loves-this-coffee coffee in the pin-drop Silence and possibly read the most incredible book without interruption. No one trying to get some of the cheesecake off of your plate. No one asking you to refill their Martha coffee. No one turning the stereo or TV on so loudly that your fillings fall out. No kids tearing through the house chasing the dog with the jar of peanut butter. We would just sit and drink in the serenity of silence. No one to bother us!
Until one mark-it-on-the-calendar day, when we get it. The house is clean, the hubby and the kids and the peanut-butter-covered dogs and the fertile cats are all GONE. And you're left in that Valhalla as mythical as Atlantis... Silence.
And we're out of cheesecake, because you didn't know the Silence was coming. So there's no point in making another pot of coffee cause you don't have anything decadent you need to wash it down with, besides it's too close to bedtime. So you sit anyway, with your feet up, but you just finished your book and there's nothing good on TV that everyone would give you crap about trying to watch, so you don't even bother with it, cause you're not even in the mood for Pretty Woman. Besides, you're drinking in the silence, right, so why clutter it with noise, even if it's Mama noise... But you've got nothing to do, and that just doesn't seem natural, so you close your eyes and try to meditate, cause you read The Secret last week...
Next thing you know, you're toddler is jumping in your lap with sticky hands and your hubby is turning on Pink Floyd to see if the alarm clocks ring out of all five speakers and the dog is tracking mud all through the was-clean house, and the cats are outside the nearest window making a porno, and the phone is ringing because Real Life has returned and completely decimated the ethereal Silence...
Which you completely missed... because you fell asleep... since you didn't have your coffee and cheesecake and the most engrossing book... and you didn't know what the hell to do in the Silence to honor and treasure it's fragile beauty.
It was actually a little spooky not having some noise anyway. It had been built up to such mythic proportions in your mind that you were intimidated in it's presence. You're almost relieved to have the noise back...
Almost.
Maybe you'd just settle for not having a lima bean in your head turn into an anurism.
Hubby is on day three of working on his eldest son's truck. There are issues with the electrical system. Last night they got the dash back together, but now the interior dome light blinks in time along with the turn signals... and now y'all know why mechanics command a high wage... they need the money for Excedrin.
So, this one goes out to mechanics (aka technicians) everywhere...Happy LMFAO Friday y'all!
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*cue music* "Should I stay or should I go..."
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And if you can still order the sandwich without slurring, you get a second one after only thirty beers... The Jaycees' cooperation wasn't as much as CADD had hoped for.
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Leave the hair, just remove the left hand... the right one is getting jealous.
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I see FEMA has decided to keep the new policies simple...
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... and that they've taken over the city fire alarm systems as well.
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All this time I've been wearing them on my feet, but it makes sense now; cause with shoes like that, who in their right mind would be looking at my ass... brilliant!
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That's rough! What if I specifically requested a whole finger and I get a cut off one instead? I mean really, how can you tell without opening the door?
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Alaska's "Bridge to Nowhere" was downsized, not stopped entirely.
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Heeeeeerrrreee birdy, birdy, birdy...
The Discovery Channel after budget cuts.
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I don't care what you say, I know that sign is stealing!
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Standard serving size is a Chihuahua, so you can feed a family of four on a German Sheppard.
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P.T. Barnum's great-nephew, Girard, went into hardware, it seems...
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...and this is the tactic used at Girard's II a few towns away...
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Fort Smith does quite poorly in state testing every year. Such a mystery.
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Jeff suddenly realized that a side-lift has absolutely nothing to do with cars.
I know, y'all... I'm running exceptionally late today. Someone in Health and Human Services finally got back to me, surprisingly, not to bitch me out following my letter, but to help me get them the form that they needed so that my son can finally get his medical coverage back. Needless to say, as important as all of you dedicated readers are, the Munchkin's medical had to come first... Now that I've found, printed, faxed and recontacted the worker, who was actually pleasant and helpful despite my bitch-fest letter, I can come over here and write something wonderful for y'all...
Problem is, I don't have anything majorly wonderful to expound upon today, so I'm stealing a meme from Forever A Jersey Girl. I enjoy her posts and she's won a place in my heart for being, like my mom, a die hard Mets fan. For those of you not into baseball, let me just say that being a Mets fan is not an easy thing to be. They are kinda seen as the younger-less-wonderful-brother of the Yankees... and their season record tends to shore this view up. So, God Bless all of you Mets fans, hope your season doesn't suck, and thanks again to Forever A Jersey Girl for letting me steal this one in my time of writer's block need. I like this one cause it doesn't go into a lot of details, it's simply, have you done it or not...
You are supposed to copy and paste this list into your own blog and bold the items (I already post in bold, so I highlighted my 'yes' answers in purple) that you have done.. this is being passed around but I think it's a fascinating conversation starter...
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a Praying Mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30.Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David in person
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt in person
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Been to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Crossed the Equator
100. Seen the Southern Cross
101. Been Whitewater rafting
102. Held someones hand right while they died.
103. Seen a ghost
104. Had your heart broken
105. Seen the Rolling Stones
106. Seen Madonna in concert
107. Seen the Northern Lights
108. Secretly been in love with somebody
109. Eaten calamari.
110. Adopted a pet from an animal shelter.
111. Been a literacy volunteer.
112. Been stung by a jellyfish
113. Almost died.
114. Appeared on tv
115. Been to a Broadway show
What have you done? Feel free to use this to stave off your writer's block, you're welcome.
