Spun from a Diet Coke...

I can't drink soda from a can.

I used to call it Coke when I lived in Florida. They'd ask, "What kind of coke do you want?" I'd say, "A Sprite, please." This is how it worked there. In the Midwest, it changed to Pop. Then when we moved East, Pop became Soda, and I had a very hard time saying Soda. Now we're back in the Midwest, and I am slowly reforming back to Pop.

My soda-drink-of-choice is Diet Coke. Until recently, when it was Diet Pepsi. Not sure why this changed.

Before I had my babies, I used to drink one plain Coca Cola right before my period came, and that was a sure sign that my period was coming.

Now, I just get the night sweats a few days before it arrives.

When I power walk with a friend, I have to be on the right.

I hate bras.

I am told I swam before I walked, and I believe them.

I don't put anything on my face, except for Oil of Olay.

I don't wear perfume but will wear scented body cream from Bath & Body Works.

I take four mandatory pills each morning.

I am freckly, and that's one of the things that attracted my husband to me - the freckles on my shoulders he discovered the first night we met, but that's another post for another time.

I am not bothered by crap on the floor, until the stuff really piles up, but I do loathe clutter. How does this make sense?

I enable my children, especially Diva.

I hate sorting socks.

I get satisfaction from tossing old socks into the garbage can.

I will poop in a public restroom if I have to go. Not a problem for me. Would be more of a problem to hold it in, I think.

I need a ton of ice in my beverages, no matter if it's alcoholic or non-alco.

I love frozen margaritas, but hate margaritas on the rocks.

Two appletinis will get me to exactly the perfect place. Of course, I never stop at two.

I only drink milk when it's accompanied by a chocolate chip cookie, cake, a brownie, or a donut, and the drinking apparatus must be glass, it cannot be plastic.

I once ate three cream-filled Krispy Kreme donuts in one sitting. I probably drank milk from a glass-glass that day too.

Then I went running.

The thought of drinking milk and eating spaghetti completely grosses me out, repulses me really. I think my sister does this. They just don't match together. Am I right?

I choose breakfast as my least favorite meal of the day, unless I am the precise amount of hungover where I crave a big skillet and some biscuits and gravy. Oh, and a big Diet Coke. (Hey, I could end this post here and we would have come full circle. So I will.)