Really True? Or Really UNtrue?

Have you ever

wondered if someone was pregnant?

Did you ask? Even though you knew better?

Or did you do what I did:

POKE

them in the stomache and ask

"What's that?"

Only to hear this lovely person respond with,

"Nope. Not pregnant- just fat."

And did you try to think up something clever to respond with?

Something quick. Something fabulous. Like:

"I meant, where did you get your cute sweatshirt?"

Just to have this beautiful girl point to her hoodie

where it shouts it's name

in

Glitter and Glam

GAP .

Yeah. Sometimes I'm not so quick.

Really True Or Really Untrue?

Thought I'd give you another look into my past lives. BUT... am I telling you the truth?

1- While attempting to come back across the border from an informal, (really, is there any other kind?) jaunt to Tijuana, Wil and I pull up to the gates of entry.

Authoritative figure nonchalantly asks, "Nationality?"

It takes a mere moment for me to weigh pros and cons of a witty response, and yet I still hear the words coming from my mouth,

"Chinese."

He didn't think I was funny. A frisking (kinda like being man handled every now and again) and thorough car search (dang. Wil found my stash of contraband chocolaties) we went back to our home in Surprise, AZ. Like the barking instance (see here, if your curiousity is building) I am no longer allowed to be witty with authority.

2-After being married for 2 years, I excitedly receive an invitation to an ex's nuptual's. While waiting our turn to congratulate the newly wedded pair, I am tripping and skipping down relationship memory lane, lingering at the heated moments this bridegroom and I had shared. (Whew, I'm bringing up the tingles as I type.) My turn arrives and the glee HE shows at seeing me at his union celebration, gives me a lapse in present day reality and after I give him a big ol' hug, sipping in his scent. I follow it up with a UNioN-BReaKeR smooch. Longer than I EVER should have and HARDER than Wil and New Bride should have witnessed.

Yep. That's how I celebrate.

3-Picture 8th grade PE. Dixie Middle dark blue and gold gym clothes ~

shorts in the Daisy Duke length.

Ms. L~ whom I firmly believe was a member of the Dark Side, bellows:

"KickBall today."

Kickball? How had I never played before?

OK. It's like baseball. Got it.

3 outs. 1st base. 2nd base. 3rd base. Home.

These were all normally associated with the

dating I was longing to experience,

but I get it.

Pitcher does her best to surprise me with a low bouncing crazy pitch-thingy,

but I'm not fooled. I back up; get in three quick steps and BOOM.

Oh Yah. It's outta here.

I run to third.

Oh no. Not by way of 1st and 2nd.

Not me. I cut the middle men out and

go STRAIGHT for 3rd base.

Can you say, "All Star!"?

Don't YOU want to hang with me?