If I weren't me...

My friend Jordan and I were sitting on the stage of Studio 600 a few weeks ago. The night was winding down from hours of country dancing, and they were playing the last few songs. (Yes, I still go country dancing.... ) Despite my attempts to be a kind and loving individual, Jordan and I were poking fun at a few people on the dance floor. As we did so, I got that crappy feeling knowing that I shouldn't do that, and I promptly tried to stop. It then occurred to me. We were sitting on the stage, not dancing with anyone, laughing hysterically to ourselves, ages 21 and 22, wearing friendship bracelets. No doubt in my mind that if there wasn't someone currently making fun of us, they had at one point during the night. More than that, I fully deserve it. So, I've decided to make my blogging come back by pointing out all of the things about me, that if I weren't me, I would definitely make fun of... cause let's be honest, I'm kind of an idiot.

I crack my knuckles about twice an hour. All of my knuckles. Every knuckle in my hand. Loudly.

I'm 22 and the background on my computer is Glee.

I have 3 different friendship bracelets that I wear often.

My laugh is incredibly loud.

I laugh all the time.

For some reason, everything is funny to me.

Even when I'm mad, I'm smiling. That's really annoying.

I hiccup just once about 7 times a day.

My hands wave as though I'm speaking sign language when I'm telling a story.

I only have one dimple.

I also crack my ankles about every hour.

When I yawn, my eyes water. I'm tired a lot. I always look like I'm crying. With a smile.

I dance in the isle of the grocery store.

I almost always run and jump onto my shopping cart, pretending I'm a race car driver.

Coloring books and fairly new crayons are a staple for me.

I wear my hair in a prom do, everyday.
I tend to think that I'm hysterical.

Country dancing is a frequent hang out for me.
Poking people is a way of life for me.
I bite my nails incessantly.
If my fingernails are painted, it's an insanely bright color.
My socks never match. This is on purpose.
My hands look like an 80 year old woman's.

Well, that's all I can think of today. Feel free to add.
Seriously, I would make fun of me if I weren't me. A lot.