I dream like a psychopath.

I've always had crazy & wildly vivid dreams.  Pregnancy has slightly stepped up their game, but overall, they were pretty psychotic to begin with.

Usually it involves ridiculous, unimaginable things being commonplace.  Like when one of my college classes was on the 42nd floor of a building that I had to use a glass elevator (on the outside of the building) to get to.  And then there were no floors below it-- it was just a classroom up in the air at the top of the elevator shaft.  I could take the stairs, but let's face it, 42 floors is a lot.  So I sucked it up, and on the first day of class, I stepped out during a 5 minute pop quiz to talk my friends into not dropping the class.  It didn't work, and I failed my pop quiz because I ran out of time.

Or the night before that when I was in the [happy] graveyard where my headstone was.  It said, "Susan K_______" and had an H below it.  The K was actually a Russian last name I can't remember.  The 'H' below it was so that people who saw the gravestone knew I spoke English & wasn't Russian.  My dad was there, combing his hair, and my pastor walked up and told him, "You know, you're a lucky son of a gun."  There was also a small ditch between my dad & pastor that, for some reason, really sticks out in my mind even though any of us could have easily walked over it.

So yes, my dreams are a little odd.

Oh, and then there was the one (well before I was pregnant) where I kept having to clean up the mess after Josh was stabbing people to death.  He'd started to do it in public & I had to finally sit down with him and have a tough conversation about how it was getting harder & harder to cover them up now that he kills them in broad daylight, and maybe we should reevaluate some decisions.  He agreed, and then he walked across a bridge over a small pond, and accidentally dropped the entire contents of his briefcase in the hole in the bridge.  There were electronics, so I was furiously trying to clean it up & dry everything out.

Do you remember your dreams?  Are they vivid?  Are they crazy, or are they just normal everyday life?  Do you have recurring patterns or dreams?

28 & counting...

I'm now a little over 28 weeks pregnant.  I've been fighting off being sick for a week, and I have never been so tired in my entire life!  Like, you know that moment where you're soooo exhausted, but you're also kind of hyped up & it's only 6pm so you don't want to go to sleep?  And you also feel like a Mack Truck just hit you?

Yeah... that's the feeling.

I have to say, it's better than morning sickness-- definitely better than that.  But wow...

And for the stats... about 2.25 lbs, and almost 15 inches!  She has eyelashes, and can blink her eyes-- which means she sees light that filters in through the womb!  Although, it can't possibly be much since I usually have a few layers covering my tummy, and now the added coat!

I love feeling her move-- little nudges reminding me that she's there.  Believe it or not, I forget quite often that I'm pregnant.  I remember when I try to bend in a certain way, or take a deep breath.  I find myself sighing a lot more & taking deep breaths lately.  I'm not sad-- just need some extra air in my lungs!

As far as names, we're still debating our top two & going back & forth.  My parents named me from a dream one of them had, so I was kind of hoping for the same thing.  And then... I had a dream about a little baby I had & her name way... Norah.  Specifically, Norah with an 'h.'

Really odd name choice for me to dream about.   I woke up feeling a little funny, to tell you the truth.  I really kind of thought if I had a dream, that would be the end of the name quest.  But Norah?  Norah is not something I would normally choose.  But was I supposed to now use that name? When I first mentioned it to Josh, he immediately said, "Like Norah Jones?"  I hadn't thought of it... but yes.  Spelled just like that.

Why does Norah strike me as sooo odd?  When we were little, we had a black & white short haired cat named Kitty.  My sister was up in the woods playing one day & found a long haired black & white cat. Other than the colors, these cats looked nothing alike.  I mean, one had this silky slick short coat, and the other had this wildly long, dull hair.  So my sister, thinking it was our cat, brought it home, and named it Nora.  Without an 'h.'  I remember thinking, "What kind of name is that?  And why would a kid her age choose to name a cat Nora of all things?  Why not Jingles or something?"

So that's my experience with the name Nora/h.  But strangely, when I woke up, I started to love the name.  It means "light."  That loving feeling has since worn off, and I don't think we'll be naming our little girl Norah, but it was interesting to entertain for a bit!

Fascinating Friday: Wonderland. (You are really going to want to see this!)

I stayed up way too late last night looking over all these photos... truly in awe of a most beautiful story and amazing creativity.  All I could think of was, this is absolutely fascinating... a true wonderland!  So I had to share it with you.

Passion, creativity, and excellence are three words to describe this artist.

She began this project "Wonderland" after her mother died & it's been a way of coping for her.

What a beautiful, magnificent tribute to her mother.  She describes it as 


"a very personal tribute to the memory of my mother, and the stories she read to me as a child. The plan was to create a storybook without words – an unexplained collection of strange and magical characters, set in the woodlands and landscapes that surrounded my home."

And let me tell you, Alice in Wonderland-- as great as the recent movie was-- needs to be checking out these pictures for inspiration!

You can also see the behind the scenes pictures (which were way awesome) here!

There's no way to share part of a picture and do it justice-- you're just going to have to go check them out and truly soak it in!  Let me know what you think!  Were you sucked in to the magical world like I was?

You Probably Thought this Deer was Alive... Nope, just Chuck Testa

Now this is a way to start your Monday!  Unless you're an avid member of PETA.  Then I would suggest watching something else.  Otherwise, please enjoy this totally awesome commercial!



I have to say, the guy is good at his taxidermy!  Not so much at commercials... or is he?  I mean, I'm a chick on the east coast watching & sharing his commercial.

Perhaps he's just a marketing genius.

'Cause we're two cool kids like that.

Yesterday morning I decided I would go to the gym at some point in the day.  So before I headed out to work I packed a gym bag & set out on my merry way.

6pm rolls around and I tell Josh to meet me at the gym around 7pm.

I get to the gym, change, and head towards the treadmill, which is pretty much the only piece of cardio equipment that I can do while keeping my heart rate at or below 140 (doctor's rule).

And right when I walk out of the locker room, I round the corner to see my dear sweet husband wearing the exact same outfit.

It's not like we were wearing white shirts and black pants to the gym.  Oh no... we had to go all out in our thinking alike.  We had to pick the most stand-out shirts we own and wear them together!

Please excuse our faces in this pic... we just got back from the gym!

So yes, in case anyone at the gym was wondering tonight, we love our church!  We no doubt looked like lunatics that tried to hard, and were probably the topic of some dinner table discussions tonight.

"How was your day, honey?"

"Well, work was fine.  I saw these two crazy people at the gym tonight wearing matching t-shirts that said, 'I <3 My Church.'"

"They were wearing what??"

Yeah, that's right... never underestimate the power of the Fowler's.  This is also the most comfy t-shirt I own.  And I do, in fact, love my church.

World's Largest Banjo Case!

I know, sooo appealing, right?  You've just been dying to see the world's largest banjo case & ladies & gents, here you go!

What that?  You think this is a coffin?  Why would one think that?  Clearly it is a banjo case.  Click here for more info on what a banjo case looks like.

Now see?  Clearly, this is a banjo case.

And just in case you haven't had your coffee yet today, I'm totally kidding.  Go look at the link, it totally explains it.


So anywho, I wish I had a video of the people around us when we were taking this picture the other day. We were at a tourist spot- Colonial Williamsburg- and it caught my eye.  I said, "Daddy, you've got to get your picture made next to the world's largest banjo case!"

The people near us looked at us like we had completely lost our minds.  No one dared tell us that it was a coffin.  Perhaps this is why my family gets called a 'cult' at times?  Or maybe it's because when we're together, we totally lose touch with the outside world.  :)  Fun times, fun times!

4:40am Grocery Trip?!

Last Sunday morning Josh woke me up at 5:30am to tell me goodbye.

No, he didn't leave me.  5:30am is when he leaves for church.  But that's not the sickening part.  The sickening part is that he also told me he went grocery shopping.

My little pea brain couldn't comprehend that bit of information. The night before when I went to sleep he was already snoozing & had not gone grocery shopping... so when did this happen, exactly?

4:40am.  My husband went grocery shopping at 4:40am on a Sunday.  Unlike me, he's the kind of guy that gets up 2 hours early to get ready, make a big breakfast, watch some TV, and then head out.  I wake up 15 minutes before I have to leave, run a brush through my hair and put on whatever shoes are closest to the door.

So at 4:40am he realized there wasn't sufficient breakfast food for him to eat.  He considered IHOP, but didn't want to blow his diet, so he decided to go by Wal-Mart to get some stuff.  Then, while at Wal-Mart he saw that there was no one else actually shopping, so he breezed through the store & did our entire weekly shopping trip.

At 4:40am.  I still can't comprehend it.

What's funny is his passive agressive way to get me to eat healthier.  You know... Organic Cinnamon Crunch.

Sorry the box is gross-- I had to dig it out of the trash.  ;)  Not. kidding.

This week's shopping trip?

It takes me back to the weekends a few years ago when we would have 'Cereal Weekends.'  We'd each buy a box of cereal, get a gallon of milk, and that's what we'd eat for pretty much every meal all weekend!  Not very healthy, but it was perfect for lazy weekends!

Baby, you've got swagger

So somewhere in my 15 zillion 3 trips out of state I've made in the past month, I lost my deodorant.  Actually, I lost it on the last trip.  I think.  At least, I wore it on the last trip.  Who knows, it could be in the house right now, but I can't find it.  It could be in North Carolina, or it could be in Georgia.  Either way, my armpits are raging with these pregnancy hormones, so I needed something to counteract it.  Going to the store wasn't an option (refer back to said pregnancy hormones), so I just kind of maybe a little bit started using Josh's.

Josh has said before, in no uncertain terms, that I am never ever allowed to use his deodorant.  He has a weird thing about it.  I would, too, if a friend asked for my deodorant, but c'mon... I'm pregnant with your child.  I think we're a little beyond sharing deodorant.

But being the good wife like he told me to be, I went to pick him up some new deodorant today since his is now tainted with my diseased armpit germs.  That's when I saw this glorious piece of art:

I can't accurately describe how much I wanted to buy it for him.  This is marketing at it's best.  It's pretty... and he likes Old Spice... and I want my husband to have swagger!

Unfortunately, they only had it in the solid.  I can't remember why, but I think Josh would rather use the deodorant that I've infected with my infectious diseases than use a solid deodorant.  And I'm not one to waste money, so I went with some boring "fresh air" smell instead.

I did find it online, though, in his special non-solid preferred state... and I have to say, I'm tempted to buy deodorant online!

5 foot metal chickens & how they become necessities in your life.

You know when you get so tickled that tears actually start to form and before you know it you're wiping tears off your face while laughing?

Yeah, me neither.

But anyway, I was reading this hee-larious blog post the other day and couldn't help but share it with you.

It's one woman's story of how she came to have a 5 foot metal chicken at her house.  A 5 foot metal chicken, you say?  Why yes, similar to this one, which currently resides at my parents house.

And because not everyone has a 5 foot metal chicken in their yard, I thought I may explain the perfectly good reason as to why they have one.  My mom actually bought it for my dad.  This one person in town had decided to sell stuff like this out of their front yard & my dad drove by it every day wanting it.  He finally stopped & asked how much and it was like $600!  He decided that that was just too much, even though he was in love with it.

He continued to ooh & ahh over it and over time, it became more of a joke than anything.  I mean, really, it's a 5 foot metal chicken, but there's something about it that makes you want need it in your yard!  I like to think of it as a very passive form of deviance (a trait I possess myself, which is why I occasionally eat ice cream for lunch-- my form of deviance.  I'm such a loser).

A few months later it was still there and my mom bought it for my dad's birthday or something for a 'deal.'  I can't remember the exact price (although it was hundreds less), but it was still more than anyone would want to pay for a 5 foot metal chicken.  But because he'd been talking about that stupid chicken for the better part of a year, it was his!

For years now it has proudly stood at the end of their driveway, welcoming anyone who dares to enter visitors.

And occasionally we'll see other family members of our dear chicken out & about.  This little guy was in Greenville, SC & made by Chicken Man Art!  With a name like that, my dad will buy a lot of items at your store.  :)

I promise my dad's not actually crazy, despite the whole 'owning a 5 foot metal chicken' thing- he's just doing a crazy face for this picture! 

So in case you're still reading this (why?) and haven't skipped over to that other blog I talked about yet, you definitely need to head over there now-- you will laugh until you cry!  Just click here.

Ummm... I had words, but I forgot 'em.

I'm typically not one to publicly poke fun at others, especially when it comes to photography.  But I'm pretty sure these are meant to be funny and get a rise out of people, so I decided to share.

Worst. Craziest. Pregnancy pictures. Ever.

Greyhound vs. Flying... oh yes I DID just compare them!

Overall, the ride on the Greyhound wasn't too bad.  I'd actually compare it to flying.

• Compared to my experiences in flying, it was just a little bit longer time-wise.  Obviously, going longer distances is a different story, but my car ride would have been 8 hours, a plane would have been 8-10 hours, and the Greyhound was 13 hours.
  
• I actually had more room than I do while flying.  I don't fly first class, but I had more legroom on the bus, and I was on one of the old buses.  During the night and part of the day, there were fewer people, so I got two seats to myself, too!
  
• No hurling through the air really fast in a tube.  That gives me anxiety.  Major. Anxiety.
  
• Stops every 1-2 hours means that you can get away with never using the bathroom on the bus.  Of course, you're battling the bathrooms at random gas stations and public bus stations, but at least the toilet isn't a moving target.
  
• And of course, the crazy people.  I do have to say there is a higher ratio of crazy dudes on the Greyhound than on a plane, though.  But compared to say, The MARTA in Atlanta, GA, the crazies on the Greyhound aren't any worse.

That being said, a friend happens to be in the same area, and driving back to Virginia on Monday (close to where I live, and same day that I was leaving!).  She offered me a ride back, and I'll gladly take it.

But for when I'd rather not drive by myself, a Greyhound is definitely an option I'll use again.

Stay tuned for Greyhound survival tips!

Why I fear the Y.

YMCA that is.

In 2006 I went to the YMCA in Asheville, NC.  IT. WAS. TERRIFYING.

One step into the women's locker room I saw a butt-naked lady, bended over at the waist with her hair flipped upside down as she dried it with a hair dryer.

Good thing she had the hair dryer going or she might have heard my gasp shriek.

I'd never given it much thought before, but I actually have a system to how I get ready after being in the shower.  My system is called "No-matter-what-it-only-makes-sense-to-put-clothes-on-before-you-dry-your-hair... especially-in-a-public-place... especially-when-you're-standing-right-next-to-the-door."

But maybe I'm just too modest.

Fast forward to 2011 & Josh has gotten a membership to the YMCA here in Virginia.  Asheville is such a unique area, I try to put my previous YMCA experience behind me, assuming it's because it was Asheville.  If I had two words to describe Asheville, it would be:

1. Weird
2. Hippie

And I don't think anyone would really argue with those two vast generalizations.  But I'd say if you we're going to see a naked woman in the locker room, it would either be at a nudist colony or under Asheville-type conditions.

But back to Virginia... I went with Josh to a 6am class one morning.  After the class I went to the locker room, bracing myself for any potentially naked women drying their hair.

Victory!  No naked-hair-drying-women!!  But in the next 30 minutes it took me to get a shower and ready, I saw 3.5 additional naked women.  I could have seen 4, but thankfully I was able to avoid that other half.

And I'm talking NAKED.  Normally, when someone says they saw someone walking around naked, I assume hope they mean with underwear on, at least.  These women were boldly strutting their stuff so that no one could miss it (like anyone could miss it anyway).  And they're not shy... they're chatting up their clothed friends and talking about their plans for the weekend, that big project at work, how the kids are doing these days, etc.

I know I grew up in a modest family, but does this totally freak anyone else out?

I am officially keeping a count of how many naked women I see at the YMCA.  So far: 4.5

Heavy heart.

This has been a weird week.  It seems weird to say, but two parents of two kids I was friends with growing up died.  And another nearly lost her dad.

It was three completely unrelated incidents.  On Sunday, a friend (heck, she was in my wedding!) wrote on Facebook, "My poor daddy is sick, but I am so so thankful he is still with us!"

That'll rock your world.  One day he was fine, the next?  Near to death.  He's fine now, but how scary is that?  Her parents are younger than mine.

Two days later I see an old friend's mother died.  I remember her well... she was funny.  She could do birthday parties like a pro-- including one where a kid broke her arm during the party, on the swingset.  It was a sleepover and rather than sending everyone home, they took her to the hospital while the party went on.  That's impressive.

And then the next day I see another friend's father died.

I played at their houses.  We had sleepovers and did stupid things to get attention.  There may or may not have been some underwear in the freezer on occasions.

It's times like these that being 8 hours away is really tough.  I'm not able to go to the visitation, to tell the families in person that I am sorry for their loss.  No one here knows them, so everyday life goes on like normal.  And in the midst of all this sadness?  Last night at church we had our first service at the new building.  It's a new location and very exciting for everyone.  As we were singing it was truly a joyful moment.

But in that happy moment?  All I could do was pray.  Pray for the families who lost someone too young.  For my old friends who lost a parent.  How do you even begin to cope with that?

I don't have all the answers, but if you have a moment today, could you please pray for their families?

Chaaarrrrrrlie Brown!

It happens at just about every wedding.  They play the Cha-Cha Slide and everyone is going strong.  It's great, it's fun, it's fabulous...

...and then they say, "Chaaaarrlie Brown!"

Everyone kind of laughs, looks around, and make up some funny dance move because, well, we don't really know what the Charlie Brown dance move is.

I'm here to change that!  You no longer have to fear weddings for this one reason.  No more awkward looking around... now you can jam!

Just for y'all, I found this uh-may-zing tutorial for all those people with two left feet out there!

If you can't do the Charlie Brown after this, I suggest you run and hide when the Cha-Cha Slide comes on.

And just for fun, here is the funniest Charlie Brown move I could find!  13 seconds in, this dude puts everyone else to shame.

Now go, practice Chaaaaaarrrrrrrrlie Brown!

Pickles, birthdays, juice, and shin splints.

Me & pickles go way back.

For my 5th birthday, I asked for a Pickle Party.  I apparently loved pickles at that point in my life.  LOVED them.  So while other kids were having Barbie & Elmo birthdays, I was hitting up the pickle aisle at the grocery store for one of each kind.

I applaud my mother for allowing this idea to come to life.  I mean, really, it's just about the lamest idea for a party.

Over the years, my love for pickles waned.  For years I decided that they tasted bad until high school when I realized those things were only 5 calories!

So when I got married, I never expected to have this conversation at the grocery store.

          Josh: You like pickles?

          Susan: Yeah, we can pick some up.

          Josh: Sweet- I love to drink the juice.


Mmmmmkkkk....

To this day, dude drinks pickle juice.  He loves it.

I tried it.  He swore it would help with my shin splints.

Blegh. It's just totally gross... disgusting.

What's your take?  Have you ever tried the juice by itself?

Life: Not always what we expect, and it's not always a bad thing.

I remember being shocked when I found out (last year, I believe) that my parents didn't find out the sex of any of us kids until the delivery room.

"It just wasn't what you did back then."

"Really?  Or were you just... a bit of a hippie?"

"Maybe both."

Either way, I can't imagine waiting these days... the anticipation of it would be so difficult!  How to decorate a nursery, what to name it... although I love the idea of it being a surprise, I'm just not sure that I could stand it!

At any rate, I'm not pregnant, but a friend of mine is.  After several years of praying and hoping and finally in vitro fertilization, they were pregnant... with twins!

Twin boys, to be exact.  And of course, then comes planning the nursery, choosing names, getting everything ready for their two handsome men to arrive!

Yesterday, I had a completely lazy day, but I did manage to wrap their gifts for an upcoming baby shower. I was so glad I had some pretty blue wrapping paper on hand, and I'd found the cutest little shoes for the little guys.

However, I'm currently unwrapping those gifts.  Why?  Because I'm sure their little boy doesn't need two pair of the same shoes when he won't even be able to walk yet.  And their little girl wouldn't look too snazzy in them... trust me.

Yep, that's right, the first ultrasound was wrong!  They aren't having two little guys, they get the best of both worlds!  One crazy little boy and one little princess of a girl.

Complete and utter shock aside, how awesome is that?  Sure their little girl may have a few tomboyish outfits with her name on them, but life will most certainly go on.

Bonus?  They will never get them confused!  Haha-- I'm not a parent and that's totally how my mind works.


So if you get the chance, head on over to RobShep.com and congratulate him on his two little ones, Hayden (boy) and Reese (girl).  He'd love some blog love and I'm positive that he'll have a much better story up today for you to read!

I've been dying to share this...

At our church everything about an upcoming service is top-secret.  They want it to be a surprise when people see the service, so everyone involved is pretty much sworn to secrecy.

Of course, with being the wife of a staff member, sometimes I just know things, whether it's because Josh is practicing a certain song at home, or because I'm volunteering in some way.

This year's Christmas eve services were huge and I was able to volunteer to help with some of it.  One day I showed up to help with cueing music for a video, "I Like Big Gifts" (which was sung to the tune of "I Like Big Butts"), and ended up painting Steven to look like an Avatar.

Just one problem... I didn't know what an Avatar looked like other than it was blue, so I had to go off of the example on the front of the make-up package.

He didn't quite have the nose for it, as I have since seen that they don't quite look like this and they have large flat noses.

But isn't it a cute Christmas sweater?

Now that I've discovered my hidden talent as a make-up artist you'll find me on the Hollywood sets.  Sayonara!

Don't try this at home.

 Wanna see something absolutely hilarious?

Just check out these pictures.  Please notice the rope above my husband's head and how it is unbelievably twisted in knots.

He's happy now... but by the end of this post, he won't be.

Do you see all the knots in that rope?  Do you see where this is going?

Then my brother jumped on...

I believe I come from a family of contortionists.

Are you dizzy yet?  'Cause I am just from looking at these pictures!

I'll tell you what, it sure looks like a lot of fun, but I would be throwing up sideways after 5 seconds on that thing.  Please don't try this at home.  Not that we did.  'Cause we didn't.  We were at Charlie's house.

Charlie is our old neighbor.  He's a good ol' boy, and this is the type of thing you do at his house.

The end.

PS: If I remember correctly, my sweet husband got stuck in the position he was in in that last picture.  Imagine how fun that was to not be able to put your feet on the ground and stop yourself!  Yippee!!!

*blegh*

Spittoons and Raccoons.

Just about everyone I know will tell you that their family is a little... special/weird/odd, etc.  That tells me that:

a) Every family is unique and special/weird/odd in its own way

OR

b) I just have extremely weird friends

Either one of those could be entirely true.  And my family is no different.  We have actually been called a cult in the past, which was pretty much like handing my family the gold trophy.  Which could be why we were called a cult in the first place.

Cult : a group or sect bound together by veneration of the samething, person, ideal, etc.

In that case, they may be referring to our absolute adoration for the littlest members of our family.  The tinier and cuter, the better.  A smile will make each and every one of our hearts melt simultaneously.

Speaking of which... I was looking over pictures I took of Thanksgiving this year and found this gem.  It's not the best quality picture in the world, but it absolutely cracked me up!

That, ladies and gents, is a spittoon.  Don't worry, if it's ever been used, it's been a very, very long time.  But those two little ones were on it like a raccoon in a dumpster.  They'd throw in food, baby dolls, ducks-- you name it, it landed in the spittoon.

On the bright side, they were really fabulous with sharing!  Except when it came to their mommies and daddies.  Not too keen on sharing those.

I love to watch these little ones grow, especially since they're so close in age!

What was your favorite part about Thanksgiving this year?

Cheerwine.

Yesterday was election day and, for some odd reason, I've always been attracted to politics.  I didn't come from a political family, but I think my love started when the politicians used to give me stickers at the Ramp Convention.  Who doesn't love stickers?

Last night, while sitting on the couch watching the election results with my hubby, I remembered six years back.  I was an 18 year old freshman in college and it was my first chance to vote.  I felt special because I'd just turned 18 and I was already voting in a presidential election!  I went to the polling place in Cullowhee, NC, where I was going to school and got to check out all the cool voting stuff.

I felt like a big kid.

That afternoon I drove an hour east to see my boyfriend.  We watched the election results and it was a close race.  It was the kind of day where you'd been told for months that history was going to be made (and I suppose it is after every election), and so I wasn't about to drive an hour and miss the final results after watching it for hours on end.

I didn't consider that California is in a different time zone.  And they apparently have to count their votes, too.

If I remember correctly, we never got results that night.  Big hoopla, but I finally went back to my dorm room.  Remember it was an hour away?  Yeah, I didn't leave until around 1:30am.

Driving that late was dangerous for me, I'll admit.  I knew it, too.  My plan?  Talking to my boyfriend the whole way back.  Just to be sure I didn't fall asleep, I stopped by the store and picked up a 2-liter of Diet Cheerwine.

If you don't know what Cheerwine is, then you don't live in North Carolina.

Think like cherry coke, but with a twist.  I'm not sure what that twist is, but it's good.

Aside from having to stop at a bathroom halfway back and nearly peeing in my pants walking from the parking lot to my dorm room, about 3/4 of the way through the bottle, I realized that it was a very bad idea.  I started feeling jittery.

Then it started playing head games.  You know those dreams where everything gets out of control?  That's what went on in my head... synapses were going crazy and my mind was racing.

So, to break up the crazy thoughts in my mind, I drank more Cheerwine.  After all, it's impossible to have racing thoughts while drinking a 2-liter and driving down the highway, right?  Those few seconds while I was chugging sipping more Cheerwine, my mind calmed a bit.

Then my mind realized I'd just given it more Cheerwine.  And the cycle continued.

I finished the last drop as I pulled into the parking lot at my dorm.  I seriously considered sleeping in my car, but then I realized I was actually scared to sleep in my car in a dark area of campus, it was freezing, I'd never wake up for class in the morning (which would have defeated the purpose of killing myself to drive back that night), and I had to pee like a racehorse.

So I did a funny dance all the way to my room.

That's when it hit me... I just downed 2-liters of Cheerwine.  There was no way I was going to fall asleep!  I wasn't even sleepy!

I don't remember much after that.

And I'm pretty sure I had insane dreams that night.

Let's just say that as I cuddled with my hubby last night, I was glad we weren't dating anymore... and that we don't live an hour apart.  It clearly wasn't good for my health!