Finally, all those years of being teased and bullied by the cool kids are going to pay off!
I am SO in the Dorkathlon, people!
I mean, you used to read my 8th grade diary, right? I left off at 9th grade, during the Mike Pirnik Unrequited Love Months, right? Remember all those dumb things I used to write? There's 3 more years of that, and some of those years are heavily Smiths and Cure-influenced! Some diary pages have candle wax from my "I am obsessed with flames" stage!
Maybe it's time to whip that baby back out and stop blabbing about my garden or sewing or Maggie.
I could start in on my infertility woes, but...hmmmm...Dorkathlon or uncomfortable topic? Dorks trump incalcitrant reproductive parts every time. (and that's the second time today I used the word "trump" as a verb)
Vote for me. You will not be disappointed, my friends.