The BF likes to me make fun of me for many things. He likes to pick of my individual talents and quirks. (Yes, I consider twirling my hair with both hands and not tying it into a knot a talent. Who wouldn't?)
He thinks I say any word with an "A" funny. Like saaaaalad. As if I draw out the 'a' sound in an annoying accent. (I assure you - it doesn't sound like that.)
He thinks I'm a bull in china shop. Maybe I'll slightly agree with him on this. Even when I'm trying to be quiet and courteous, I find a way to knock everything over in my medicine cabinet early in the morning, so it comes tumbling out onto the tile floor. This may or may not have included a brand new bottle of perfume that shattered all over my floor. (Still pissed about that mishap.)
He's says I'm messy. In my defense, I'm not all the time. The bedroom has a tendency to be engulfed with clothing, undergarments and shoes because let's face it - a girl needs her options. Am I wrong?
But there's one place I'm not messy or unorganized. Never. And that place would my car. Go figure I know. There's nothing worse than driving in a messy car. My car is so clean. I think people are surprised to see my desk covered in papers and then my ever-so organized car. There are no clothes, receipts, pieces of paper or a random flip flop to be found.
Not a thing.
You won't even find empty coffee cups in my car. But you will find two pairs of sunglasses and a lipgloss.
Oooo and an umbrella.
So maybe my office looks like a tornado hit my desk and occassionally my closet explodes onto the carpet three times a week, but if you want to go for a ride, you will be riding in a clean car and singing along to Lady Gaga.
Yep, singing is mandatory.