An introduction:
"My Bucket list..." 
*Last Updated: 12.12.08*

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Lets be interactive.

I have a hard time concentrating my mental energies when I write, particularly in the beginning. What about this? What about that? What about if lil Johnny wears a dress? I could start it off in a different language, but then who would understand it? How would a fictitious being such as a vampire react to that? Do vampires look overly botoxed? (Who's the cow now? Ha, take that.)

Prompts help me focus my swirling and whirling creativity so that I can get out my thoughts and feelings, which can range from peppy to raw within the same entry. The ducks, aka my thoughts and feelings, just don't want to get into a row otherwise. Talking to disgruntled ducks isn't as fun as it sounds, I promise.

Help me with my journaling dilemma by sending me a message. I am compelled by the voices in my head to do your bidding. (Lucky you.)

If by any chance you need help coming up with ideas, lemme know. I am nothing if not an idea generator. Ask my friends Erika , Jenn , and JessiokaFroka if you need to be sure how close to a loony ticking time bomb I am. Come on you know the crazies (aka my people) have the best ideas. I can totally hook you up. (I sound like a pusher or a pimp. Are those current terms?)

I can't wait to hear what you come up with.

Holy cow - "As the unfortunate target of a serial killer, a rubber innertube is stuffed into your mouth and fully inflated, causing your head to explode."

!!

I also like my voice when I'm sick. Often, it's the first clue for me that I'm getting a cold - I'll notice my voice get a tad lower. I like singing when I'm sick.

Yep, this is awesome.

(John Cusack... *drools*)

I've done the "Look, there's nothing there!" argument before.

I'm great at talking to dogs. Terrible with babies, but good with dogs. Go figure.

The second quiz has me dying in 2070, too. Yikes.

You'll be an Aquarius in your next life.

I like the sound of my voice when I'm sick, too. No one else does, though. Lameoids.

Maybe Buster will stop barking at me now?

I also like to be around people when I am sick. Phil likes to snuggle up in bed and whine when he's sick, and I want to go out and infect! I think it comes from having learned stoicism from my mother, where you don't complain until you're almost dead.

The last time Phil was sick I rather indifferently said, "What hurts?"

"Everywhere," he said.

So I got three ibuprofen and a glass of water and gave it to him. I almost left the room but then I hesitated and asked, "What else do you need?"

"Nothing," he said, and then, "I love you."

I think he realizes that is as much babying as he'll ever get from me.

Poor Phil.

Perhaps you are simply wary and reserved like me?