I was reading through posts that i had on my old blog before I erased it(yes, i did keep copies of the posts first) and I realized that I had been blogging for almost a year. I decided to do something different for this post. Instead of writing about the last year and reliving it all in a post I am going to just take little snapshots from my old posts and put them down. Let's see how many of them we can turn into dirty jokes when they are taken out of context!(I counted 26 but I could just be a huge pervert) I know this is long but it's a year. It's MY year!

Here are a few choice tidbits and snapshots from the past:

She just happened to kiss my crotch while she was picking up the lipstick she dropped.

He said we were so good for each other he knew things would never "work out".

I like to think of myself as pretty open and trusting.

Creamed corn looks like puke or baby diarrhea.

I wonder if I could pretend to be her?

I was belligerent at school, hated my mother, lost my virginity (yes, I was 13) and felt like the world was against me.

So now i know my period is given away by the fact that my normally sweet demeanor turns into the equivalent of Professor Snape after the Gryffindors beat the Slytherins at quidditch(if you don't get the reference than you are not one of the cool kids.)

He likes to claim he doesn't smoke.

Why would you forgive your child as a murderer before you would acknowledge their sexuality?

Before you confess, think about if you are truly doing it to help the person you are confessing to, or if you're doing it out of a selfish need to feel cleansed.

I drive a Blue VW Beetle named Sqwiggles.

Have plenty of time for myself, travel, don't get tied down, live in as many places as you can, take joy in nieces and nephews instead of own children, have fabulous male friends, take a lover not a husband, don't get roots, have fun, work many jobs, who needs an education?, buy much erotica and an extra strength dildo.

Kind of an "out of sight, out of heart" kind of a thing.

Thankfully, we don't care about the man's point of view here, let's get back to mine.

I forgot my mothers birthday.

Yeah, it's like flavor lock for your vagina.

As I look back on those moments, all I tend to see are the wonderful times, and I long for them.

Any type of meat as long as it wasn't anything you would normally consider an internal organ.

It's either lie to us, or face our drama.

Taking that into account, I think this woman beats her children, starves them, and then locks them in the closet overnight.

I need to find a man who worships me, adores me, and loves me, who I can tolerate but really don't give 2 figs about.

Later, he hunted me down and I found out he really meant it, so of course I let him take a dip in Lake Sara.

I could not do the head turn thing because I could not bear his lips touching me anywhere, even my cheek.

I have built a life by lying about who I am.

Oh, yeah, someone is gettin' their ass whooped tonight!

Am I just naive?

Really, they taste like dirt.

I was afraid if we slept like that I would wake up and Paul would be waiting to take a chunk of flesh from my throat.

Aren't we supposed to be able to be just as heartless as men?

These are by no means rock solid guidelines, I am sure there are plenty of other places where I don't want to see your kid.

I was confronted with an ultimately more successful(and in my mind a more talented and sexy) me.

I need a man who can spell.

What a cheating whore I must be!

You're full of dreams and passion and I can not even begin to describe the hopes that I have for your future.

Unfortunately, there are dumb ass men around so we will deal with the outcome of your stupidity.

He is a wonderful friend and a wonderful man(minus the whole stomping on sara's heart thing. but eventually we'll forgive him for that.)

It's like a Klingon marrying a tribble!

These were just boys, ranging in age from 16-23, whose moms and dads had abandoned them.

I also raised my very own mandrake online so I could unpetrify my friend Hermione.

This doesn't mean I am OK yet, but it does mean that someday I will be.

I could never say goodbye to these memories. crap.

Doesn't anyone fuck anymore?

I was like Hansel and Gretel, except instead of dropping bread crumbs from my hand, I was dropping tampons from my boobs.

I now have an obsessive, possibly unhealthy, connection to my e-mail.

Now I am up watching Finding Nemo to try and get the thought that I might have green alien eggs growing in my brain to go away.

When it comes down to it, I know I can act dumb sometimes when it comes to friends who are girls.

She might not really need a ride, and sometimes she has chewing gum in her purse. But there she is, putting herself in front of you, and you never noticed. . . . .

Zero to six in five hours, not bad.

His mother told him that the next girl he brings home better be able to cook.

I hold back how much I enjoy sex now, and how much I used to hate it.

Now despite my lack of stellar good looks I do get hit on about once a month on average.

I mean I LOVE food.

I didn't want this blog to become a sad self pity party,

Sorry to anyone who thought Santa was real.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who does things like this.

I am not afraid of real life.

If you gave birth to a demon spawn that runs around a restaurant do not expect me to sit quietly while your child wastes the money I'm paying for the atmosphere.

It is an "I'm better off without him but not without men in general so it is not bitter at all" movie.

In all reality my response would probably be more like ummmmmmm. . . .huh. . . .weeeeeellllll. . . . and then I would turn bright red and run crying from the room.

Right now it seems the best I can hope for is to find the one I will love second best, and never let the second know he's not the first.

Don't get me wrong, in certain instances I do think hope can be useful, but usually it is a barrel full of crap that we wish was a barrel full of gold.

If it had landed in the toilet, I honestly would be going home with only one sandal on my foot.

I get to rediscover the ancient art of letter writing(in the form of e-mail of course.)

And sometimes this twinge leads me to over-react, be a little more possessive than I want, or need to be.

I regret, I am lost.

He also has convinced me on several occasions to try things that I normally would never put in my mouth.

I always thought I would be going to school to follow a dream, I now find that I am going to school to follow a paycheck.

I am freshly heartbroken, and by freshly I mean yesterday.

Sara, you might be pretty if you wore make-up.

They do not tell anyone "We have one biological child and one adopted child" or refer to me as "our adopted daughter, Sara."

you are either extremely emotionally balanced, or you are incredibly good at lying to yourself.

I know, I'm a pompous ass but I can't help it.

They are either so creepy they hardly deserve the term "human" or they really only want sex and don't want to expend the extra effort to get one of the pretty ones when they aren't going to take the time to show me to their friends anyway.

It is my own personal form of crack.

I have a lot of quirks.

I was afraid I would run into a zombie in the parking lot.

Maybe because I am 2,000 miles away I make a less intimidating target than the 6'4" man standing in her living room.

Goodbye Paul.

My creative juices are drying up, anyone got lube?

It is like having a cocaine addiction and someone hands you a bag of sugar.

And I'm measuring it in toothpaste tubes.

Dating sucks.

But I play this whole thing out on my fingers.

I wouldn't have closed my eyes.

Yes, I am addicted to you, can't let you go my dear, sweet chapstick.