I was tagged by Bad Mom for this fun little meme. First, some rules: you have to tag 7 other people with blogs (I’ll have to try really hard to think of 7 people); leave a post on their blog letting them know that they are tagged; and… something else. I’m not good at remembering — or following — rules.

1) When my friend, Carrie, and I were 18, we wanted to get tatoo’s, but we couldn’t talk her tatoo-artist-uncle into giving us one (he was wise enough to tell us to come back when we were 21 and if we still wanted one, he’d do it for free). So that night, Carrie and I decided to try to brand ourselves with boiling Crisco, a heart-shaped watch back, and a pair of tweezers. I bravely went first. Carrie had a not-so-steady hand, and — long story short — I ended up with a fish shaped scar on my upper arm for the next decade.

2 ) When we were 8, my friend, Susie, and I rehearsed a sweet dance routine to Mr. Mister’s “All I Need is a Miracle”, complete with leotards and striped leg-warmers. We fully intended to take it on Star Search… our parents told us to keep working on it. We’re still working on it…

3) I have always secretly wanted to be in a martial arts movie; think “Mortal Kombat”.

4) When I was 20, I went to the Delta Center to try out for the Utah Jazz dancers. When I saw the number of girls there, I chickened out.

5) When I was 14, I lit a gym sock on fire in the back of the school bus, forever debunking Nicole Prorock’s theory that sweaty gym socks wouldn’t burn.

6) I love to have my back scratched. More than anything in the world.

7) I barely graduated high-school. My cumulative GPA was a 1.6. I am the quintessential underachiever. The circumstances surrounding my teenage years and home-life is a meme in itself. Nay… it’s a blog in itself.

I’m tagging Leslie, Sam, Jachin, The Artist Formerly Known as Little, and my hubby… and… anyone else who would like to participate.

Wow. It has been a very whiny day. Zoe has pretty much cried and whined since I picked her up from school an hour and a half ago.

Here is a list of the things she has cried about so far today:

* I was talking on my cell phone in the car.

* While in the running store, I hung the running jacket back up on the rack after she clearly stated that she wanted to put it back on the rack. (During this same time period she also slapped my butt, stomped on my foot, and screeched at me about hanging up the jacket while I tried to talk to someone in the store.)

*We had to go to Costco to get laundry detergent and toilet paper.

* I stopped in the frozen food aisle to pick up some salmon after I specifically told her that we were only going in for laundry detergent and toilet paper.

* They didn’t have any treats at the snack bar that we suitable for cold weather consumption except hot dogs… and their hot dogs are too big.

* I told her that there was no way in h-e-double-hockey-sticks I was going to buy her a treat anyway because her behavior was not up to snuff.

* It was windy outside while we walked to the car.

* I came home and burned her grilled cheese sandwich while trying to put away the frozen salmon that I was never supposed to buy in the first place.

Heaven help me — it’s only 1:30 in the afternoon.

Ok, I have several things I want to post about (one of them, a meme from Bad Mom just waiting to be completed), but I don’t feel so hot, the network card in my laptop isn’t functioning properly, and I’m a little short on time. So for this post, I will just focus on my feelings and confusion about the movie “The Mist”… and I’ll even try to hold back on the spoilers, no matter how much I’d like to warn you.

Saturday night, my bother, Paul, my sis, Sam, and I hit the late showing of “The Mist”. I had previously posted about how I’d read the book (about 17 or 18 years ago, while away from home, camping in the pitch black woods of girls’ camp) and how it was great and scary, blah blah blah, and yay! movie.

All I can say is wow, folks. Maybe I only dreamed that I read the story.  I mean, sure there was a mist. Huge, creepy spiders: check. Unstable religious zealot: check. Lots of blood and gore, including torn torsos: check. But where. the. crap. did the ending come from? When the screen went black and the credits rolled, my brother and sister looked over at me and said, “Why didn’t you tell us that was coming?”, and their faces looked like they might like to dismember me for making them sit through the entirety of the movie. All I could say was, “That WAS NOT how the story ended.” But then I tried to think, and I seriously couldn’t remember how the book ended… only that it wasn’t same as the movie ending. We then left the theater –  by then it was well after midnight — to look for something cheery to do before we went home to hang ourselves. Disneyland was out, because it closes at 10pm and it’s 800 miles away. Vegas was out, because it was every bit as loathsome and depressing the last time I went. So we reluctantly drove home slowly, making jokes about the movie… whatever shred of hilarity we could find.

See the movie if you like — which was creepy and alright — but wow… don’t say I didn’t warn you about the depressing alternate ending.