The DMV -Department of Mutants and Vagrants

I could leave the title, saying nothing else, and everyone would be nodding their head in agreement, remembering their last horrendous experience with the B.O., the everlasting waiting, and the dregs of society. That is because every single one of us has had the unique experience of making the trek to the DMV, or as I have properly renamed it, the Absolutely Most Disgusting Place to Ever Spend More than 10 Seconds. Sounds pretty accurate, right?

The DMV is a place like no other (unless you count places like Hell, purgatory, and a junior high boys' bathroom), and thats a good thing. Seriously. I walked in and immediately felt dirtier, stupider, and angrier. You walk in as a clean, respectable individual and leave a complete gromit (Jon's word...). In 46 hours (the time it takes to get a license), I acquired a hunch in my spine, started dragging my back leg, grew 89 warts with hairs growing out of the middle, and utilized my newly developed 9-inch nails to scratch at my dander and lice. I was one amongst hundreds.

Let me just give a completely accurate and not-exaggerated-in-the-slightest description of some of the 'characters' (for lack of a better word... wait. 'Specimens' would work), I encountered while diseasing myself. First person is Snoop Dawg's 3rd cousin. This guy comes in with the greasiest hair imaginable, but manages to remember to bring his pimpin' cane with him (not for actual need, but more of a prop to propel his absolute 'coolness'). He also didn't forget to wear his pants 74 sizes too big, and could definitely not have left home without his 'grill,' a mesmerizing display of golds, silvers, other metals dug deep from the earth, and molding greens and yellows. He was roughly 52 pounds, with legs as skinny as his cane and had last eaten some rotting skunk flesh, or so his breath alluded to.

One of the other note-worthy creatures sweating and infesting the DMV, was the guy next to me. He seemed nice enough, and clean enough, until he asked me why everyone was asking me questions about the DMV (they seriously did, too. Every person seemed to seek me out and ask what rotting line they needed to stand in. I never really knew, so I just pointed them to lines that looked farthest away from where I was standing.). We chatted for a while, when he asked me point blank, who the savior and redeemer of the world was. I answered him correctly, to which I earned myself a high-five. Great. I just remembered a classic commandment to the DMV; Thou Shalt not Touch Anyone or Anything Should You Wish to not have to Make an Immediate Trip to the Hospital. Anyway, after my flashback of being in 7th grade and guys thinking it was cool and hip to give high-fives, he continued his sermon with, "He saves me every day and every night." I didn't know if I should shout 'Amen!' or start rolling on the ground like I was feeling super divinity, but I opted with, "Uh, me too?" That seemed to please him since he offered another round of high-fives, to which I earned myself another flesh-eating disease.

My whole objective in going to the caves of hell, formally known as the DMV (Demented and Mangy Vagabonds), was to get my license changed, and was quickly told that I was going to have to take a written test. I couldn't believe it. Seriously? I've been driving for like, six years and have only gotten in 3 car accidents, received a minimum of 10 tickets, been booted twice, and was forever banned from BYU for too many parking tickets. I'm pretty sure the whole system is rigged since I saw a 107 year old grandma get in line, get her picture taken, ask the person next to her what the little green men were doing with the buried treasure, and walk away with her license. Anyway, I ended up having to take their test, failed once, but eventually passed (there were questions like, "How far should you park away from a fire hydrant that is located on a hill in the middle of the night with a dog, bottle of water, and a hammer in the car?" and "When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" with the correct answer being, "I never have"). Josh thinks that the guy cheated for me, since I had made friends with the giant troll working the written test section of the DMV. Either way, I get my license mailed to me in 3-4 years.

Ten on Tuesday

I took this idea from Cameo (thanks Cameo!), but I like lists better than paragraphs (who doesn't?), so this works for me.

Ten things to point out on Tuesday:

1. Scrubs are the epitome of awesome. I always knew doctors were smarter than the rest of us, and by deeming a pair of pajamas as the official 'uniform' for medical providers throughout the world, that just solidified that we, as non-doctors, can never be as smart as them.
2. I like doing mind-numbing busy work. I took a pile of 300 inactive patient files and erased the name off each one, just so we could reuse the folders. It took me 45 minutes. It was the time of my life. Hey. Any time I get to sit and think about what kind of shampoo I'm going to buy next, is time well spent.
   
3. Bloozer (Josh's big blue surfboard) is still 9 feet long and is still sitting in our living room, much to my dismay. Josh had promised that it would be a 'temporary arrangement.' I've yet to see the temporary part.
4. I was explaining to this girl at work about how I'm really pathetic and have no friends, and she invited me to hang out. I told her I was busy doing something that week with friends but maybe another time. I still can't figure out why I don't have friends here...
   
5. I can cook okay, but am completely unable to imitate the way my mom makes cream of wheat (a.k.a. 'cookie soup'). I tried making it again today (I've made an attempt a total of 6 times, never once having it taste like my mom's...), but failed yet again. I ended up trying 2 batches, both of them tasting like dust.
   
6. My visiting teaching companion called me today, and said she wanted to meet me and just hang out. I was completely shocked, but even more so when she gave me her address and it was to an apartment complex! Never mind that renting an apartment in that complex costs well over 2 grand a month, she doesn't live in a multi-million dollar home! Hooray for something closer to normalcy!
7. I realized that yes, I still love The View (I had figured I had hated it after Rosie O'Donnel was on it, but I realized that after watching it this morning, I just hate Rosie; the other ladies will always stay near and dear to my heart). We all have our guilty pleasures, and when I work half-days on Tuesdays, I get to watch The View. I hate to admit that I really like that show, but I do. Long live Elizabeth, Joy, Barbara, Whoopi, and Sherri.
8. Women forget that they're 70 years old and should forfeit wearing shorts shorter than their bum cheeks, regardless of how much plastic surgery they have had. Unfortunately, these old birds won't accept defeat and recognize that their legs, once smooth and tight, are now lumpy and leathery. Same goes with bikinis. I've seen way too many (just one is too many) ladies well past their prime bikini days, strutting their varicose veins marked with age spots around the beach. Wear a modest one-piece and stay out of your granddaughters' closets!
9. Spiders have no fear here. Every night I park my car near some bushes and every night spiders take that as an invitation to make webby homes on the exterior. Just like the day before, I drive my car fast on the roads and just like the day before, the spiders cling to some part of the car, watching their night's work get ripped from my car's shell by the gusting wind. I look in their small eyes, and tell them to get a life. They look back in mine, and tell me that they are. Mine.
10. I am 'one of those people,' as Josh likes to put it. I am a person, dictated by my tv shows. To my credit, I only have one show and that is The Bachelorette. Well, Josh forced me into going to a ward FHE thing (not my kind of thing. Any gathering of ward members outside of church tends to not be my kind of thing... I'm obviously way too cool for that.), and I made him and the other family we went with leave early so that I could catch my show. Never mind that I sacrificed the first 1/2 hour, Josh still complained about having to go home to watch a 'stupid tv show that I should probably not be watching anyway.'

p.s. I realize that my blog template is by far the world's ugliest blog template, but that just makes me like it more for it's unique ugliness. I'm really artsy.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I don't know what it is, but when I get hungry, I morph into a slobbering beast. Seriously. The second my stomach recognizes a slight variance from being stuffed full, my inner Mr. Hyde emerges and wreaks havoc on any unsuspecting and suspecting victims alike. Today was no different. I walked through the door after work, went straight to the fridge, snarled at Josh to never look at me again let alone think about talking to me, and began the soothing process of eating spaghetti until my stomach bloated to the nice, comfortable size of a large truck wheel (I exaggerate not; my stomach might as well be ripped off my body and used as some kind of flotation device). But thats the problem with us Asay's (you'll find that in my family, if one acquires an undesirable characteristic, its easily excused with, "Its because I'm an Asay..." and followed with, "...I can't help it." Seriously. Once I complained to my mom about my shoes not matching right and she said it was because I was an Asay and that I couldn't help it. I asked her what that had to do with anything, that my shoes not matching my outfit was because they were black and my belt was brown. She replied that I wouldn't understand such things because I'm an Asay and that I really can't help it.). We eat until our body goes numb and we near unconsciousness; its sort of like a trance. I would agree that it could be described as pathetic, but we're Asays and we can't help it! Lay off!

I am sometimes able to disguise my utter hatred for anything human in such a state of hunger, but rarely. I would have tried to disguise my hunger-beast today, but I think that since I went on a grandma walk (I take walks during lunch to keep from sitting down all day. Josh calls them my 'grandma walks.'), I was extra hungry. Yeah, walking around in bubble gum colored scrubs around a park makes me really hungry. Although, I don't know if you can accurately call them 'grandma walks,' since the other grandma in the office just got her eyes done and a neck lift. She doesn't look much like a grandma now... maybe I am the only grandma. Maybe I should get a neck lift to compete with her. Maybe I should get my eyes done, ears tucked, lipo, lip injections, tummy-tuck, and implants all in the name of trying to look 25 when I'm 90. She isn't 90, more like 65. I think she looks 64 now.

Josh just did an impression of me, calling me 'a bear that almost ate his arm off.' He then asked if he should move the couch or if I was interested in eating that too. Not like he can talk. He becomes a beast as well, but never seems to be able to recognize that it happens when he's hungry. Now he just did an impression of what I looked like while eating. A lot of snarling, drooling, eyes rolling into the back of the head, and fist pumping was involved. Some things are below the belt... especially when I wasn't in my right mind and am an Asay and can't help it.

My dad is better than your dad...

Ahhh... Fathers' Day. I've been crying off and on today, with thoughts of my dear dad in mind. See, I grew up knowing that my dad was the most brilliant and incredible dad to ever have lived. Things change, this didn't. I still think of my dad as my hero, the most dedicated man to ever have raised 8 kids into successful adulthood. He is nearly perfect, and anyone who thinks otherwise has to deal with me and my fists of rage (this is not an exaggeration. Any time anyone even slightly infers that my dad isn't perfect gets my absolute wrath). I love this man as much as anyone can love their father. He is successful in every shape of the word, through work, church, health, and family. I read my sisters' blogs and just cried, thinking how much I miss him and realizing that they feel the exact same way about him that I do. I had always figured that I had had a special relationship with him, but after reading my family's blogs (yes, the Asay family all have blogs. Apparently we feel we have some very important issues to relay to the rest of the world... Still waiting to hear if the world feels the same), I realized that amazingly enough, every single brother and sister feels the same way I do. My dad is that amazing. He made every child feel they were absolutely precious and gave each of us that special attention craved by children from their fathers.

It is no secret to Josh that I adore my dad, practically worship him. Ron Asay can do no wrong in my eyes, and every thing he says is engraved as absolute truth and wisdom in my mind. He counseled me through life, always being such a positive light in my life. He is such a sensitive man, always ready to empathize but also careful to never make light of the little things that make teenagers so dramatic. I am so grateful to him and I would have no problem whatsoever writing a book on how much I love him.

I am the baby of the family and I got the privilege of spending my last two years in high school with just my parents. Most people fear this, but I embraced it. I was always close with both parents and I remember the awesome Monday nights of going out to eat with just those two and getting to talk with just them and me. I loved it. I loved spending time with my parents, and after I got married, Josh and I spent a lot of time with my parents (we did laundry every Sunday over there and ended up spending nearly all Sunday there). We came to think of them as some of our best friends and still do. We always talked about how comfortable and easy it was to be with my parents, our friends. Man, I miss them. I was so awful when they left. I was so devastated when they left, feeling like they were going to forget me and replace me with the missionaries (yeah, I have the mental maturity of a 10 year old). It was good for me when they left, because I love and appreciate them even more now. They put the Lord first, and that is just how it should be. I'm still thinking if I can figure a way that they move out to California with us. Yeah, I'm still very clingy to them and probably not in the healthy way. What can I say? I'm the baby.

High School Dazzle

Thanks Britt, who put this on her blog. I couldn't help myself from taking it and filling it in myself, since I absolutely loved high school. Oh the nostalgia...

- What high school did you go to? Mountain View High baby!
- What was your school mascot? Bruin
- What were your school colors? Maroon and Gold
- Did you have school spirit? Not sure. I guess I probably did...
- Did you drive to school or ride the bus? Drove or was driven. Annie or Brittany drove the sophomore year, I drove myself junior and senior.
- What kind of car did you drive? I drove and crashed my sister's 97 Subaru Legacy some of sophomore and junior year, but then switched over to my Goose, a 2002 Honda Civic.
- Did you ever skip? Of course. Who didn't?
- If so, where did you go on skip days? I usually went to my boyfriend's house (sorry mom), but sometimes I would go to lunch with someone somewhere.
- Ever have detention? Yes, but only in Elementary school.
- For what? I'm pretty much convinced that every kid goes through a 'mean' stage. I was a complete brat to the 'uncool' kids (were there even 'cool' kids when you're 8? Apparently I thought so...) in elementary, but luckily grew out of it (I did!). Anyway, I got detention when I was throwing snow balls (probably directed at someone I didn't like and wanted to bully. Seriously. I cringe thinking back on how cruel and mean I was...I was a bully).
- What did you think of freshman year? It was way fun, because 9th grade is still considered junior high where I went, and I got to do high school things when I was in 9th grade (i.e. go to seminary (big whoop), play on the high school soccer team, etc.). I thought I was da bomb. That was also the year I stopped pretending to be a tom-boy and really gave in to my inner roxy. Don't know what that means? Ask my sisters...
- Was lunchtime fun? Sure. Another chance for me to go out with my boyfriend (sorry mom again).
- Did you normally eat school lunch or bag lunch? From the time I was in high school, I have never eaten a school lunch. I am obviously way too cool for that.
- Were you ever part of a food fight? No. Too cool, remember?
- Did you attend the pep rallies? I didn't really care about those. I would go if we had to, but always tried to skip them.
- Did you have a crush on anyone? Sure I did. I was a teenager, remember? Now its not so much as on anyone, but on anyoneS...
- Were you bullied by anyone? No, and I really despise anyone who did bully. Besides me when I was in elementary school. I'm sure I was justified in doing that. Not really. I will pay for that...
- Did you play any sports? Soccer. I did track in 9th grade, but gave it up when I realized that running for fun is not really fun at all.
- Did you go to all the football games? Sometimes. Not usually though. I was friends with student council people and it was fun when they were there because they were so enthusiastic (hence the reason for being on student council...). They made it fun, even though you didn't care what the result was.
- Were you friends with the cheerleaders? Yes. They tried to teach me some moves and I honestly considered trying to do cheer and soccer my senior year. Yeah. I honestly just admitted to that. Haylee was going to do it too! We are both lame.
- Were you considered popular? I think everyone probably considers themselves popular...
- Did you run for Homecoming or Prom King/Queen? Do you run for those things? I was nominated for both, but didn't break out of the top 6 either time. *sigh* I kept living though.
- Did you win any awards or superlatives? I got state MVP senior and junior year, First team All-state sophomore year, Gatorade player of the year for Utah senior year, Academic Allstate senior year... yes. Everything was because of soccer and nothing actually related to school. I was a jock and apparently not that bright of one.
-Where you involved in any clubs? No. Were there clubs?
- What was your favorite subject? The PE one that you got to do all sorts of crazy sports. I had it with Joey Bye, and thats one of the times we went through our flirtation spells. Ahh... I miss flirting.
- Who was your favorite teacher? Coach Gustin because he taught that weird PE class and Mrs. Gessle because she was so rude to everyone.
- Who was your least favorite teacher? Mr. Jones! He was so frustrating. I would wind up the class to open rebellion, and he would get mad at me afterwards! He didn't think it was cute or charming. Imagine!
- Who did you hang out with? Oh, I dunno. People of all types, but mostly my boyfriend and his friends, or Haylee and Annie.
- Were you part of a clique? Not really; I was friends with a lot of the different groups. Our high school wasn't that cliquey really.
- Did you hang out with mostly guys or girls? Guys. I was a huge flirt. Josh made me stop though. He sat me down and explained everything. That was the day I lost my personality and became boring.
- Was there anyone you absolutely could not stand? Yes. They will remain nameless.
- Who were you dating? Ugh. I will not admit to that either.
- What year did you graduate? 2003
- Did you drink? No
- Did you smoke? No
- Aside from school, what were your weekends or evenings like? Hanging out with boyfriends, friends, the normal stuff that people do on weekends when they're in high school, minus all the wild partying (you're welcome mom).
- What is one of the best memories you have of high school? My senior year Homecoming was the funnest dance I had ever been to and set the tone for my senior year. It was the best ever. I went with someone I liked, we went 4-wheeling, I liked my hair a lot, and everything was just comfortable. That dance started the next year of dating for us.
- Do you miss being in high school? Oh yeah. Aside from not having any real responsibility, it was fun to date and play high school soccer. Life was so simple back then...
- Did you ever fail a class or grade? No.
- What grade was the most fun? Senior year. I loved it. I loved my boyfriend and my friends, and my soccer year that year.
- If you could, would you do it all again? I would, but I don't hang on to high school as the highlight of my life. Thats just sad. There are bigger and better things to do in life, than high school. I loved it while I was there and miss the fun, but I don't dwell on it and try to relive the glory days. My glory days are now, where I sit in sweats all day on Fridays because my job is only mon-thurs. If that isn't glorious and worth bragging about, then I don't know what is.

ABC tag post

ABC TAG:

A = ADVOCATE FOR: Dogs and all America's Funniest Animals shows.

B = BEST FEATURE: My ultra awesome personality. Seriously. I rule.

C = COULDN'T DO WITHOUT: Didn't I state this earlier? Oreos.

D = DREAMS AND DESIRES: Babies, dogs, house with room for horses. In that order.

E = ESSENTIAL ITEM: My blue brush. It has been in the family for years and so every now and again, when the bristles fall out, I cry a little and rinse it with expensive shampoo.

F= FAVORITE PAST TIME: I love laying on the beach and reading, especially when strangers' children bring me crackers. Happened the last time I was there. It was awesome.

G = GOOD AT: Doing absolutely nothing and feeling great about it. Some people feel guilt, I feel gratification.

H = HAVE NEVER TRIED: Umm... a lot of things? Obviously. But to humor the ABC tag god, I'll say that I've never tried surfing or anything else to do with Bloozer (the name of Josh's surfboard. His full name is Bloozer the Big Blue Surfboard), although I did kick him yesterday. Josh got mad and put Bloozer back in his shrine in our living room. Yes, a 9 foot surfboard sits in our living room.

I = IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS: Buy a house and two Akitas and 4 horses and have a little ranch thing going. I would also leave Bloozer in a desert. You need money to travel and I would spend some on traveling to the desert to abandon Bloozer. I kicked him.

J = JUNKIE FOR: Anything at all to do with sweet and sugar. I pound ice cream like it isn't full of calories and fat and like I have a 12-year old boy's metabolism (i.e. Haylee).

K = KINDRED SPIRIT: I dunno. I suppose Josh, since we felt we had known each other forever since the getgo. We aren't particularly alike, but we are kin and both have spirits, so we're kindred spirits.

L = LITTLE KNOWN FACT: Josh is afraid of crabs. Seriously. He gets freaked out by them and thinks they look like spiders, although he isn't afraid of spiders. It all started when we were in Mexico and I saw the horrified look on his face as he stared, helpless but mesmerized, by the tiny crabs flooding the rocky shore. He nearly vomited.

M = MEMORABLE MOMENT: Hiding Otis, our dachshund, in my bed and under the covers, trying to keep him alive and safe from my dad. He was going to kill him ("I'm going to kill that damn dog!") because he had bitten my sister's friend in the face. Maybe Laurel shouldn't have stuck her face within inches of his...

N = NEVER AGAIN WILL I: Out-eat my husband in waffles, or anthing else. Unfortunately, this isn't uncommon. Well, I'll try not to.

O = OCCASIONAL INDULGENCE: What constitutes 'occasional'? Because I occasionally eat ice cream every night. I occasionally finish a book the day I start it. I occasionally fantasize about my future dog names (thats right. Not baby names. Dog names. I even have a list for horses).

Q = QUOTE: "Save a piece of that a corn for me!"

R = REASON TO SMILE: August 2 is nearing every day. If you don't know why that date is significant, stop reading. We aren't friends.

S = SORRY ABOUT: Not having the motivation to run. If I eat as much as I claim to, which I do, I should obviously be exercising. Not the case. Sorry about that.

T = TAG SOME FRIENDS: Haystack, Cameo, BAV.

U = UNINTERESTED IN: Anything not fun or anything Josh tells me I should or need to do. Yawn.

V = VERY SCARED OF: Nothing! I am fearless. Well, I guess I'm sort of afraid of not having kids and having to have some kind of real career. Freaky.

W = WORST HABIT: Waiting to do things 'later' ('later' means never.) Josh will agree.

X = X MARKS MY IDEAL VACATION SPOT: Anywhere tropical and beachical. Beachical means any place with white sand and water and lots of leisure time to do nothing.

Y = YESTERYEAR DECADE OF CHOICE: I think I fit where I am, but I always thought the late 1800's and early 1900's might be sort of fun. I love the clothes. But since I don't have the most feminine disposition, I guess I wouldn't fit in. I'd probably get stoned or put in the stocks or whatever it is they do with unfeminine women.

Z = ZODIAC SIGN: Picses

Praise to the cookie!!

So I thought I should let the general public -my sisters and friend, the only people who actually waste time reading this, -know that I will no longer be a complete waste of life and will be rejoining the workforce come this Monday. I have to say that I'm pretty devastated by the whole thing. I mean, who knew not working was about the best thing in the entire world? Certainly not I. I spent most of the time complaining about not working, and the rest of the time reading books on the beach. It wasn't such a bad deal now that I think about it. I got to do my two most favorite activities: complaining and reading (complaining is definitely the best thing in the world, and I take every opportunity to complain to Josh, myself, the air, the ants and any other object). I did a lot of eating in between the complaining and reading, so really, my life was completely perfect. I begin my work life in California in an orthodontist's office, being the primary insurance biller. Glory be. I can change the world with such a noble career path as that (sarcasm intended).Does everyone else agree that Oreos are the most perfect, delicious, awe-inspiring cookie to have ever been processed, reprocessed, and then stuffed with preservatives? Seriously divine. Josh bought some for the kiddies (his sister and her kids are in town attending a funeral), and we did the only right thing. We gave the kids each two cookies, and then pounded the rest of them. Children may delight in the Oreo cookie, but they don't have the necessary reverence required in order to fully appreciate the sheer splendor of the black and white cookie. They gobble them down, without so much as a pleasured sigh! Its blasphemous. When I have kids, I will teach them right and never let them eat an Oreo without a silent prayer of thanksgiving. I mean, I didn't even see the kids close their eyes when their lips touched the crumbly goodness! Imagine! The little savages. They yapped up their two cookies (two cookies too many if you ask me; that would have been 6 more cookies for Josh and I, meaning 6 more cookies for me), and didn't even pay their respects to the wonder that is the Oreo. I was disgusted. I still am. I have considered writing their mother and father a letter, describing how irresponsible they are and what terrible parents they must be, not fully teaching their children how to properly worship Oreo cookies.

Rageless Wars -Part II, The Finale

As most people would agree, we all end up doing things we long ago decided we would never do. For instance, I committed long ago to never marry a soccer player. Little did I know that when I was making these vows and promises, swearing up and down that the last thing I wanted in life was to be eternally coached whenever I chanced to play again, Josh was apparently there making the exact opposite vows and promises -to only marry a soccer player -but his vows were apparently stronger. Looks like he won, yet again. Josh 209,987 Courtney 0. Make that 209,988. Josh just brought home a surf board. Apparently, he got a 'killer deal.' Yeah, and I just felt a killer instinct. But ANYWAY...

See, this all came about when I promised myself that I would never commit a murder, no matter how much Josh bugged me, no matter how much traffic there was, and no matter how much the woman at the zoo irritated me. But like I previously touched on before, we all do things we once said were below or beneath us. Yes, I broke that promise and I committed murder. But not in the sense of hiding in a dark corner of the room waiting to attack an unsuspecting victim, but more in the sense of hiring accomplished assassins to do my evil bidding, too weak and afraid to do it myself.

It all came about when our landlord noticed our ant traps ('traps' meaning miniature houses that supposedly lure ants in, filling their tiny arms with poison to bring back to their unsuspecting families; don't be fooled. It doesn't work. Either the ants know exactly whats inside the house replicas and avoid them, or they have developed a keen tolerance to the poison. I have a feeling they were laughing at us.) scattered like land mines throughout our house. "Ant problem?" she asked. "Yeah, but we're taking care of it, " I non too confidently replied. "Let me make a call. I know a guy..." and it all ended there. A call was made. Lives were terminated, and the ants are no more. No one seems to ask questions or wonder what ever happened to the impending invaders, but that doesn't stop me from thinking on them from time to time. I won't forget how they had initially bombarded me, attacking both my physical self and my immediate dwelling. But that is all long ago and done with. They are like ghosts of the past, immortalized by every crumb, every speck and trace of comet, and every tickle on my arm or neck. I'm almost sorry to see them go. They were my companions, after all, regardless if they were ill company or not. We lived together and have common bonds in that regard. Besides, I have now broken two promises to myself; I married a soccer player and I killed many someones (if ants can be considered 'someones,' which I think they can. Any creature that cunning and clever deserves to be considered a 'someone.').

Also, Josh just said my armpits look and feel like chicken skin. I'm thinking about killing some more, and not just ants.