February 10, 2015

Eleven Things I'll Never Be


About once a month, my dad and I like to engage in a healthy bout of screaming, name-calling, and generally unrelenting stubbornness. Otherwise what we refer to as a "debate."

We like to keep things light and usually stick to topics like gay marriage, racial profiling, and the existence of God. Ya know, cocktail party stuff.

Last weekend, we decided to go a little more cliche than usual and spent the evening discussing vaccinations. Or, I should say, we started out discussing. By the end, I was yelling that "for someone so smart, [my dad] sure was stupid." To which my dad responded that he had somehow managed to raise a liberal lemming.

Now, before that evening, I had never been called a lemming. Actually, I wasn't even entirely sure what one was.

And nothing riles a girl up like calling her a name that she doesn't understand.

Yes, I was pretty jazzed about the insult, so much so that after the conversation ended, I went upstairs to Google exactly what a lemming is. Turns out, a lemming is a small rodent that is found in the Arctic and is related to a muskrat.

See below.

"Tunturisopuli Lemmus Lemmus". Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

According to Urban Dictionary, a lemming is also "a member of a crowd with no originality or voice of his own" or "one who speaks or repeats only what he has been told."

Now, I'll admit that the Lemmus Lemmus is pretty cute. And I have always been oddly partial to the muskrat. But I can say with 100% certainty that I am not and never have been a lemming, literally or figuratively.

I know that this probably ranks below Kim's butt in terms of newsworthy topics but I just really wanted to get it on the record: I am not a lemming. Also, while I have you, let me just get on the record a few other things that I most definitely am not.

I am not... someone who enjoys yoga. I know, who even let me have a blog, right? And I could just be bitter because I'm as flexible as a newborn giraffe. But still... yoga just doesn't do it for me.

I am not... someone who can resist popping a pimple. Frankly, I don't trust anyone who can.

I am not... someone who keeps my clothing folded. I don't even know why I go through the process of folding it to begin with, if we're being honest.

I am not... someone who squeezes the toothpaste tube from the bottom. Yeah, I kinda hate me too.

I am not... someone who will ever voluntarily eat at McDonald's. There are just so many more fun way to kill yourself, you know?

I am not... a good parker. I'm not even sure you could consider some of what I do "parking" at all.

I am not... against starting sentences with "and" or ending them with "is." And you can't tell me otherwise, no matter what your job title is.

I am not... Martha Stewart. Besides the whole genetically impossible part, I also just don't have the patience for flower arrangements, cupcake frosting, or honey-glazed anything.

I am not... awake after 11 PM, 99.9% of the time. I'm just not.

I am not... someone who will ever pass up a chance to eat brunch. I mean, after admitting that I don't like yoga, I had to make up in cliched blogger hobbies somehow, you know?

I am not... someone who likes even numbered list. I'll admit, perhaps that makes me a bit odd.

I AM however, someone who appreciates a corny joke. And also someone who knows when to quit while she's ahead.

Happy Tuesday.
It's like Monday, only 20% better.