Tag: Confession Friday

Apr 10

Confession Friday: Divine Facial Hair

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TGIF, Bookworms!

Because I trust you not to judge me, I thought I’d share a nonsense tidbit from my week. I was on my way to the gym (I exercise purely because punching air makes me feel like a badass when in real life I’d never punch or kick anything) when a song came on the radio. I’m no good with music released beyond 2005 (and 2001-2005 are pretty shaky for me. 90s alterna-pop and grunge is my musical wheelhouse) so I have no idea who was singing this song, but is was something broody and Cure-ish. In any case, the lyrics were being sung very slowly and went “If God had a master plan…” Except they sort of paused on the “mmmm” of “master plan” and for some reason every fiber of my being was expecting the lyric to be “If God had a mustache…” Because that’s a completely reasonable leap for my brain to make, right?



What about you, Bookworms? Any weird assumptions or brain bubbles pop up for you lately? Freudian slips? I want to hear about them!


Feb 06

Confession Friday: I’m a Historical Figure

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Hey Bookworms!

It’s Friday! I haven’t been to ye olde confessional in a long time, but there’s something I need to get off my chest. It’s no secret that I adore historical fiction with an intensity that likely isn’t healthy. Sometimes I get so swoony over Jamie Fraser (or something totally unrelated to Jamie Fraser. I mean, not EVERYTHING is about Jamie Fraser, right?!) that I put on a wistful face and forget how RAD it is to live right now.


Nothing to see here, folks. Move along.

Sometimes I’ll just sit around thinking, “can you imagine life before electricity?!” Or, “wouldn’t it be weird to grow up with horses and then CARS happen?!” Or, “Indoor plumbing is the bomb diggity. I’m glad it’s a thing!” Recently I had a revelation. I AM A HISTORICAL FIGURE.

Yeah. What’s as life changing as electricity, indoor plumbing, and cars?! The friggin INTERNET. I’ve lived on both sides of it! The digital age, y’all. Someday our grandchildren are going to goggle at us the way I goggle about the pre-electricity, horse riding, stink fest I love so dearly. I’m my own historical fiction heroine now, y’all. Watch out!

 Now that I’m basically my own American Girl Doll, I simply must know. Have any of y’all pondered how history will view our little sliver of now?


Mar 20

Confession Friday (on Thursday): I’m a TERRIBLE Sick Person

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Bookworms, I have a confession to make.

I am THE WORST at being sick. Seriously. The good news is I hardly ever get sick. It’s been a good 2 years since I was last felled by a cold/flu/what-have-you. But dang. This sucks. When I’m sick I want to do nothing at all. Then I want to cry because I’ve done nothing at all. I took a day off work earlier this week because I felt so miserable. And I never take time off. Crazy. Of course, I took my whining to social media, because I’m LIKE THAT.

My tweets don't lie.

My tweets don’t lie.

Here’s a rundown. I started to feel the “I might be getting sick” thing on Friday. I brushed it off and went on my merry way. My friend’s birthday was Friday, so I went bowling (and if you follow my Instagram, you’ll know what a dichotomy of horror/brilliance that was.) Saturday I felt crapalicious, so I stayed in my pajamas and laid around until about 4, when I got showered and cleaned up. I had high hopes the Mexican food I’d be eating with my friend that evening would clear out the sinuses and put me on the road to recovery, but it was not meant to be.

Dirty Kleenex: the Smallpox Blanket of 2014

Dirty Kleenex: the Smallpox Blanket of 2014

Sunday I remained a whiny slug on the couch, sleeping until a million o’clock and THEN taking a nap. Who does that? I mean, except people with LEGIT illnesses, like cancer patients. (Cancer patients, y’all deserve all the sleep you can muster. I do not. Undeserving sleeper right here.) Speaking of which, I’ve never heard of a whiny cancer patient. They’re all about the positive mental attitude and I’m all “OMG, I have  a cold! Waaaaaaaaah!” More evidence that I am a horrible human being.


Red noses ARE only cute on reindeer.

I’m starting to feel better, thank heaven! This is most likely due to the fact that head colds are super minor and clear up on their own in a few days, but I’m going to give the credit to my husband (who is waaaaaaaaay less whiny when sick than I am. So much for that stereotype.) He remembered that the last time he was sick, I went out and picked up some pseudoephedrine. The REAL stuff they keep behind the counter and put you in the meth suspicion database for. Best idea ever.


Take THAT, nose!

In summation, I’m a huge whiny baby and a pretty awful person. At least I’m honest… I guess? Anybody else out there want to admit to being a weenie when sick? 


Jan 25

Confession Friday (On Saturday): I Suck at Spelling

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*I tried Grammarly’s check plagiarism online free of charge because I have no desire to be sued for copyright infringement. Ain’t nobody got time for that. * (FTC Disclosure: This post is sponsored by Grammarly, which means Katie got paid, y’all.)

How are all you Bookworms this fine Saturday?

I have a confession to make. I am a really crappy speller. I rely on spell-check more than I’d care to admit. In the third grade, I was the very first one out of the classroom spelling bee because I spelled “higher” instead of “hire.” I thought I should get credit anyway because higher is trickier spelling-wise, but no dice.


My biggest problem is multi-syllabic words. I love me some big words, but the vowels tend to throw me for a loop. English, am I right? In the middle of a word, a, e, i, o, u can often sound interchangeable. I’m a big proponent of sounding things out, but again, ENGLISH. It doesn’t always work.

I took Spanish in high school and college. I can manage simple declarative sentences that don’t require verb conjugation, but I’m not what anybody would consider fluent. You know what I AM though? An awesome speller… In Spanish. Spanish rocks because the vowels always make the same sounds. If you can pronounce it, you can spell it. I also like Spanish because the translation for penguin gets a sweet punctuation mark: “pingüino.” Everybody loves an umlaut.

Alright Bookworms, I KNOW some of you are probably spelling bee champions. ‘Fess up, kids. It’s time!

*Side Note: Grammarly paid me for the initial listing on this post, but not this part. I got a free 30 day trial of the service and it’s actually pretty sweet. It picked up a ton of grammar errors (though most were intentional) and gave me the option on how rigorously I wanted to check my text. They offered a variety of standards ranging from academic to casual. Granted, I don’t really care how bad my grammar is because this is a blog and I KNOW that I’m FLOUTING all the rules, but still. If I were back in college, I’d love this thing. I used to get nailed on using the passive voice ALL THE TIME.*


Jan 03

Confession Friday: I’m a Klutz

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Dearest Bookworms,

I am… somewhat less than graceful. I have come here today to confess that fact and offer you proof. Last Sunday, I wanted to go to the grocery store. Jim warned me that it was slippery, that there was a collision alert out for our area, but I am stubborn. Instead of staying in my warm home, I ventured out… And made it as far as the end of the driveway. Marrying an A/V tech nerd has advantages and drawbacks. One advantage is that Jim has MacGuyvered our home with security cameras. One disadvantage is that said security cameras don’t stop recording just because I’ve made an ass of myself. Observe:

You’ll notice that immediately after falling, I checked my bag. This was to ensure the survival of my beloved Kindle and my only marginally less beloved iPhone. Seeing those items intact provided me the gumption I needed to retrieve my keys and head right back into the house, proverbial tail between my legs. Sigh.


Dec 19

Confession Friday (on Thursday): We Fear the Doorbell

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Bookworms, I have a confession to make.

Jim and I HIDE when the doorbell rings, particularly if it’s after dark. The last winter’s eve visitor we had turned out to be a Mormon missionary. While I respect the rights of all people to practice their respective religions, I would prefer it if I were left alone to practice (or not practice) mine in the privacy of my own home. In any case, we’ve adopted a “don’t answer the door unless you know someone’s coming” policy.

Which is great. Unless your cell phone is set to silent, so you don’t get the memo that your neighbors are coming by to drop off the winnings of the holiday decorating contest. (Because eeep! We won the GRISWOLD!) And you leave your friend outside on the porch in the cold while you hide behind furniture because you think you’re being stealthy by not looking out the window to actually see who’s there. (If you don’t see them, they don’t see you, right?) Except you’ve forgotten to draw the blinds and the sheer curtains totally blow your cover. Did I mention that this is the friend that you trust enough to give KEYS to your HOUSE?

Neighbor Shaming.

Neighbor Shaming.

Yeah. We’re THOSE neighbors now. The super paranoid weirdos who hide from their friends, never open the door for fundraising teenagers, and give the stink eye to anybody who walks on their immaculate lawn. Tyson, Angie, Jeannie, and Ann, please accept my humble, sheepish, mortified apology. Y’all are the best neighbors in the land, so great that you probably will just laugh at our antics and use them for future good-natured teasing, but seriously. So freaking sorry!

I don’t think I’ve been this full on embarrassed in a while (my shame-meter has been calibrated to be pretty high.) Any of you bookworms want to tell an embarrassing story of your own so I don’t have to feel like such a paranoid loser face? Please? 


Oct 25

Confession Friday: I Eat Kiddie Cereal

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Confession time, Bookworms!

I think there’s a law of the universe that says once you’ve reached a certain age you’re supposed to develop a taste for boring grown-up cereals. It would seem I fail at being an adult. Keep your bran flakes! Anything with chocolate and/or marshmallows is what strikes my fancy. The thing is, I don’t normally eat cereal for breakfast. I’m bad at mornings, so I pretty much just want coffee and for nobody to talk to me for a couple of hours. Mid morning I’ll have a snack, and then lunchtime is when I’ll indulge in a big old bowl of cereal. Sadly, kids aren’t technically supposed to eat this stuff because it’s full of sugar and processed-ness and it’s HORRIBLE for you. Ah the joys of being an adult. I can make all the bad decisions I want with nobody but the entire internet telling me that I shouldn’t.

I love you, Count Chocula.

I love you, Count Chocula.

In other news, this weekend Words for Worms will be making the switch to being a self hosted blog. What does that mean?! From your perspective, very little. Same blog, same content, still wordsforworms.com. It’s just a back-end change that allows me more freedom to play around with some snazzy tools and maybe bring in a teeny bit of cash on the side. I am a filthy, money-grubbing weasel. Confession #2. Now. Wish me (and the super smart techie guy I hired to do the hard work) luck. See you Monday!


Oct 11

Confession Friday: My Sense of Humor is Ridiculous

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Happy Friday, Bookworms!

I must confess. My sense of humor is often completely ridiculous. You know how sometimes you find something hysterical that probably isn’t all THAT funny? I have seen this clip several times over the past few years and EVERY TIME it leaves me howling. It makes me laugh until my tummy hurts. It’s not clever, It’s not outrageous. It’s just absurd.

And it kills me.

You can learn a lot about a person by knowing what tickles his or her funny bone. I’m really concerned about what this video says about me… Without further ado, I give you… Turkey.

Anybody else care to admit to their weird sense of humor? C’mon. This is your chance to admit that Weekend at Bernie’s is your all time favorite movie. No judgement here. I mean, TURKEY!


Oct 04

Confession Friday: I Didn't Read the Book for Book Club(s)

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Dearest Bookworms,

I have a confession to make. I’ve been really bad this month. I’m in two book clubs, (in actual visceral face-to-face LIFE) and this month? I didn’t read the book for either of them. I’m so ashamed. I had my reasons… They just weren’t very good reasons.

September’s pick for My Neighbors are Better than Your Neighbors was Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell. I’ve heard a lot of conflicting reports on the book, but honestly? I just didn’t feel like reading it. I liked Swamplandia! well enough, but I was just not in the mood for literary fiction, let alone literary fiction in short story format. I caved in two days before book club and downloaded the book on my kindle… I made it through three stories and threw in the towel. Vampires eating lemons? Girls turning into silk worms? Giant seagulls with the ability to steal things from the future? It made my brain hurt and all I wanted were some doggone zombies!

vampires in the lemon grove

(It’s a good thing my neighbors are so awesome. They let me have wine and dessert despite my reading failure. Remind me to tell you about how good an idea it is to have a neighbor with a spare set of keys to your house. There just might come a day when your keys get locked in your car and your unicorn-loving neighbor bails you out. I mean, hypothetically, of course. )

Then… Whine and Whining. The choice for September was Drop City by T.C. Boyle. It is about a hippie commune and has naked butts on the cover… I haven’t even acquired a copy. Book Club was supposed to be on Tuesday of this week and it was postponed until next. Guess who is reading a zombie book instead of Drop City? This girl. Shameful goings on for a self professed bookworm, no? Perhaps I’ll catch up this weekend, but I know myself. I will likely be drinking wine by myself at home come Tuesday evening… And reading something that isn’t Drop City. 

drop city

On a positive note, as a result of skipping my “assigned” book club reading, I’m ahead of the game for The Fellowship of the Worms
I’m looking forward to discussing Justin Cronin’s The Passage with everyone. It helps me feel like less of a tool for not doing my homework. Bookworms, I’m falling into a shame spiral. Share your stories about skipping the assigned reading for school or book club. Please? 


Sep 20

Confession Friday: I'm a Terrible Singer

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Howdy Bookworms!

If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you’ve probably noticed that I randomly work song lyrics into titles and/or posts pretty regularly. I can’t help it, my brain is the victim of catchy tunes. The unfortunate part? I can’t actually carry a tune.

People often use “tone deaf” as a description for a terrible singer. I’m not tone deaf. Not even a little bit. “Tone deaf” implies that one literally cannot hear tones… Like Jamie in Outlander after his head injury (thanks a LOT, DOUGAL. Jerk.) Jamie could hear no differentiation of notes. If he sang horribly, he had no idea he did so, because he couldn’t hear the difference. I’m not that deluded and/or handicapped. I can hear what sounds good and what doesn’t. What I can’t do is make my throat cooperate and produce melodic sounds. What comes out is typically rather screechy, though it sometimes sounds a little goat-like.

Actually, I think these goats were better singers than I was.

Actually, I think these goats were better singers than I was.

Sometimes I’ll watch American Idol and cringe at the terrible singers in the audition rounds. They typically seem blissfully unaware that they’re awful. I suppose there’s some benefit in being cognisant of the fact that I’m a yowler, but being self aware is EXHAUSTING sometimes. Oh well. The knowledge of my pitiful singing voice doesn’t stop me from belting out Bohemian Rhapsody in the car with my BFF and her 5 year old son (who is being raised RIGHT and knows the lyrics. That child is magnificent.)

It also doesn’t stop me from enjoying music and singing done by people who are NOT me. In fact, I feel my musical disability gives me a special appreciation for the art. I know just how hard it is. Kudos to YOU, people who can sing. Way to be awesome.

Anybody else have a confession they’d like to make? Are you secretly an excellent singer? Do you car dance to Barry Manilow? Let it out!