Would you like to know the special brand of crazy to which I was married? Sure you would. Throughout the divorce and all the horrible things he did to my kids, I strived to keep my blog a neutral place. I haven’t bad-mouthed my ex (well, at least not publicly), but this latest proof of his idiocy just has to be shared. No more Mr. Nice Girl.

I know you were all enthralled with my first edition of random facts about myself. I’m sure you’ve all been on the edges of your seats, waiting for the second installment. Okay, okay, it’s late, I’m tired, and I have nothing else to write about except how burned out I am and how ready I am for school to be out. And I guarantee, reading about my frustration with my students wouldn’t be entertaining for anyone! I suppose I could write about how I went back and gave Bikram yoga another chance, but it was still as hellish as the first time. In fact, this time I realized the studio was sandwiched between a Pizza Hut and a Subway which is just ironically evil.

So instead, here are the last 10 ordinary mesmerizing facts about me.

Some of the bloggers here have been sharing 25 random facts about themselves.  I’m usually kind of stubborn and contrary.  Generally, I adamantly refuse to jump on any bandwagon just because.  But I liked the idea of sharing obscure facts, so I started looking through pictures and came up with a few nuggets you may not know about me. I’m only including 15 in this blog post because I don’t want to bore you guys with too many stupid facts overwhelm you with too much awesomeness at once.

So, apparently the internet world is all abuzz about some Time magazine cover. Yesterday, my inbox filled with over 100 emails from people discussing, analyzing, and picking apart the cover, the article, and the concept in general. “Are you mom enough?”

Well, I don’t know if I’m mom enough and I, quite frankly, don’t give a crap. I didn’t read the article. I don’t remember the last time I read any article in a magazine. Oh wait, last month, in the pediatrician’s waiting room, I thumbed through the holiday recipes in a three year old issue of Family Circle, if that counts.

Decisions, decisions.

I’m a very wishy-washy person.  I’ve never held many strong convictions.  I’m not very opinionated about anything.  I can almost always see both sides of any given situation. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I’m okay with simply being happy and content. I get along with most everyone because I’m generally non-confrontational. I’m pretty malleable. I can fit in with all sorts of people. I’m content to follow along.

A few days ago, a friend told me she wanted to try out yoga and, knowing that I’d been exercising, asked if I’d like to take some classes with her.

“Sure!” I said excitedly. “Yoga sounds like fun!” Isn’t yoga pretty much just stretching? I can stretch! No problem! She found a great special that let us take unlimited classes for a month for $40. Awesome! Before our first class, I ran out to Target and bought a yoga mat so I looked all official and like I knew what I was doing.

I’ve been walking and/or doing step aerobics every day for a couple weeks now. Because I was pretty sure I was at death’s door after my walk yesterday, I decided to do a workout video today instead. I have an old Kathy Ireland tape that I haven’t picked up in years. And now I remember why.

I popped the tape in my player and Kathy Ireland appeared on the screen looking perfectly coiffed, makeup beautifully applied, body skinny and toned. I immediately hated her. Before she started, she introduced her mom who was working out next to her on the video. If her mom can do this, I can totally do it too, I convinced myself.

In January, I made my annual resolution: lose weight.  Yeah, I know, real original.  Generally, this resolution lasts until about January 2nd, give or take a day.  This year, however, I’ve stuck with it.  Or maybe I haven’t exactly stuck with it, but I haven’t completely given up on it either.  I’ve been making careful food decisions, choosing vegetables over cookies, fruit over pasta, sawdust bars over chocolate.  Despite that, the weight has been coming off pretty slowly so I finally came to terms with the fact that I can no longer count brushing my teeth and fastening my sandals as exercise.  I need to add actual exercise — the kind that makes you sweat and scream in pain — to my repertoire.

This morning, I attended an Honor Roll Breakfast at the grade school my kids attend. Clayton got straight As last quarter so we celebrated his success today. When the principal called the kids’ names, they walked on stage to accept their certificates. The teachers were standing alongside the principal and most of the kids either shook their teacher’s hands or gave them hugs. When it was Clay’s turn, however, his teacher reached out her arms to give Clay a hug but instead, he did some weird-looking, double high-five type maneuver. He may be a straight A student, but he’s still my Clay.

My kids were eating Airheads yesterday and asked me if I wanted one. Repulsed by the idea, I adamantly refused to try the sticky, sweet stuff, insisting it would likely pull out my teeth. I used to have good teeth, I did! Then I had kids. And now my teeth are the consistency of sandstone; they crumble apart at the slightest pressure. So I was a very good girl and didn’t eat any garbage that could damage what’s left of my teeth.

Ironically, not ten minutes later, I was washing dishes and felt like there was something stuck in my tooth. I used my finger to dislodge the particle only to discover it wasn’t a piece of food at all. It was a filling. Or part of my tooth. Or something that was definitely not supposed to come out. Which is just another argument in my growing list of reasons why doing dishes is bad for your health.