If you were wondering what I might taste like now, the answer is spearmint. And Diet Coke.
I think this will be the answer always.
And as for Mexican food? I still don't like it.
The way to my heart is with candy. The person serious enough about me to want me forever (if he exists) could propose in a candy shop with a candy-gram and I'd say yes. Actually, come to think of it, this seems ideal. Just ask me in a room full of unlimited candy and I'll commit to eating jelly beans in bed beside you for the rest of my days.
I have been fighting it for years, but I am going to admit something. I am a sappy, cheesy, spontaneous loving, bright-eyed romantic. Sorry if your world is shattered right now.
A few weeks ago, I was getting out of the car, my hands completely occupied with odds and ends. A pen in my mouth, I fumble for the keys, brushing the gas cap with my hip as I pass. The lid of the thing juts out because my car is a '97 on its last leg and hardly in pristine condition. I push it back and without hearing the pop back into place, I walk away. Not a minute later, the fix returns to its previous glitch. The worst part is that even though I know it's a waste of time, I always try to fix it, anyway. I always try to make it stay. It has recently come to my attention that I do that with a lot of things in my life.