well my heart knows me better than i know myself so i'm gonna let it do all the talking.

(woo-hoo,woo-hoo)
~ kt tunstall

I’m going to have to play this song each time a guy is yucky. Because, well, it’s a good reminder.

And, um, would it be annoying for me to keep up this whole quoting songs or people as titles forever? ‘cause I think for the most part I’m gonna. Moving on…

So, today I’ve already poked myself once in each eye—once with my mascara wand (which HURTS—I may have to rethink mascara being my fave kind of makeup, you can do FAR less damage with a blush brush!) and once with my cute pink wreath when I was hurriedly going back inside to fetch my coffee I’d mistakenly left inside my house. It was a bit painful, as I’m sure you can see. :D

Now, I find this particularly funny since I’ve been wearing makeup, mascara specifically, since, oh, my freshman year of high school? (I actually remember ‘cause Eddie Fairchild was like, “hey, you look different, what’s different?” And I was too embarrassed to admit it!) and also I’ve been walking up to my door with a wreath on it for, like, ever (okay, maybe a year and change?) and I’ve never before managed to poke any part of myself with it, much less my EYEBALL. What’s that about?

Also, my dreams are freaking me out. Two nights in a row I dreamt about being dismembered and paralyzed. Which, in and of itself, is damn creepy. And then I looked it up, and I don’t like what it says. Often times when I look up dreams I’m like “oh, okay…I get it.” But not this time. What is falling apart? If anything, I thought I was getting it all together…

Eh, whatev.

Happy Tuesday people—well, at least, it’s already Tuesday for me!!!