1. Seven things I plan to do before I die

- Hike the entire Appalachian trail, and hopefully make enough of an impression to earn a nickname for myself.
- Go to Paris and steal a tiny milk pitcher for my mom.

See, my parents went to Paris when my dad was in the service, years before they had kids. They stayed in a bed & breakfast for a couple of nights, from which my mother pocketed a dainty white milk pitcher as a keepsake. This is probably where I have inherited my tendency to steal glassware from bars. Admittedly, I only steal from bars that piss me off because they're overpriced or boring. My attitude problem has scored me a couple of ceramic tikki mugs, a few decent wine glasses, and a shameless amount of satisfaction.

Anyway.

When I was fourteen, I broke the tiny, irreplaceable milk pitcher that my mom stole from the Parisian B&B. A year later, I went to the Spanish city of Vallodolid on a foreign exchange trip which included a field trip to a pottery shop in the sticks. I and the other foreign exchange students watched the potters on their wheels, and browsed through the shop in which they sold their wares.

There, I found a tiny milk pitcher, which I clung to, and inspected so thoroughly that you'd think I was checking it’s asshole for heroine. The potter saw me handling the pitcher, and, despite my protests that I would pay the full $2 it was worth, he gave it to me.

It was really sweet. My Spanish sucked, so I could barely argue when he gently folded the little thing into my hands.

I, in turn, gave it to my mom. And even though I break at least one irreplaceable thing every time I visit my parents (I’m not kidding), that pitcher remains intact.

Still, I’d like to get her another one from Paris.

- Hitch-hike. Just once. Just a mile, even. I want to do it and survive.
- Have a romantic relationship that works out in a “normal” way.
- Get a job that makes me physically exhausted and filthy, yet emotionally fulfilled.
- Have a partner willing to bathe me after a rough day at the aforementioned job.
- Buy a car I love, and drive it until it DIES.

2. Seven things I can do

- Sing.
- Draw.
- Take things with a grain of salt.
- Wiggle my eyebrows one at a time.
- Learn an instrument on my own within a week, as long as I have some sheet music and a fingering chart. (Yes, “fingering.” Don’t be dirty.)
- Sing the entire score of “Jesus Christ Superstar”, complete with instrumentals. I’m not necessarily proud of this, and I haven’t done it in a while, but I can do it.

3. Seven things I can't do:

- Organize.
- Tie a fucking cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.
- Think of one thing at a time.
- Refrain from being the devil’s advocate.
- Dance in a way that won’t embarrass me or anyone I’m with.
- Play piano.
- Fluently speak a foreign language.

4. Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex: (Oooh, with the heterosexist phraseology! Sorry.)

- Height, even though it's not a huge deal. I've been attracted to short men, but I am usually attracted a man tall enough to rest his chin on my head when we’re standing up. It’s cozy.
- Intense eye-contact.
- Surprising tenderness despite an outward reluctance to be tender.
- Willingness to make himself vulnerable.
- An ability to touch my waist in a way that melts me into pudding.
- Expressive facial expressions that break your heart.
- MONEY! I’m kidding. Let’s say honesty, and the balls to ask questions that provoke my own disclosure.

5. Seven things I say most:

- Hee!
- Fuck.
- Shit.
- Jesus Christ.
- Yay!
- Wha?
- WAAUGHH!

6. Seven celebrity crushes:

- Adrien Brody.
- Ewan McGregor.
- Dave Grohl. (I dunno why. But this crush is HUGE.)
- Jeff Buckley. (Dead.)
- Tom Waits.
- Jonathan Safran Foer.
- P.T. Anderson.

Okay. Time's up for me.

Min, I know I still owe you one.

~ Last Five Entries ~

The Lights Are Much Brighter There - 10.10.05

Concert in the Park - 10.03.05

Everyone Has a Fuckin' Opinion - 09.24.05

Pack of Ne'er-Do-Wells - 09.17.05

The Forks Have Spoken - 09.10.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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