Confessional potpourri

I compulsively trim split ends with the scissors at my work desk. I realize that this can't be good for my hair in the long run, but I do it anyway.

I love 90s movies. The other day I caught a glimpse of Clueless on tv and it made me happy.

My son says the word "truck" with an f sound instead of a tr sound. I try not to let him see me giggle. Especially when he does this at church.

I wish my eyes were bigger and not so puffy.

And let's not even talk about my stomach.

I don't have any tattoos. I probably couldn't handle the pain, and there's the whole fact that my religion discourages it, but my biggest deterrence is just that I can't imagine anything that I'd want inked on my skin forever.

I feel similarly about bumper stickers.

I went to Google potpourri to make sure I was spelling it right, then realized that I could activate spell check (which apparently is two words) by typing it in the body of this post.

My computer has approximately one minute left of battery power, thereby condensing this post.