We all have a variety of hangups. Some of them are innate fears or anxieties that we can’t trace back to a particular traumatic moment…and other’s we can blame on mom.
I wish that I had more time to write and record this week. I’m super busy, so I made sure to sit down and write SOMETHING. What you get is a quickie. :) Enjoy!
STFU…five minutes. Cheap.
Hahaha.
Do you remember the time you were cooking some vegetable stuff at my new house and I didn’t have any oven mits or pot holders and you had a mini heart attack? I STILL haven’t bought any pot holders. My t-shirt works just fine.
I did that to myself with the grill one time, though my eyebrows remailed in tact… I cant say as much for any of my arm hair. Scared the shiz out of me. I hate gas stoves, BTW.
My mom never allowed us to play with crayons on the coffee table in our living room bacause she said that we would accidentally color the wood. We had to, instead, use crayons on the linolium floors in the kitchen. The problem with that was that we would leave crayons on the floor and mom or dad would step on them and smoosh them into the floor leaving more of a mess.
too short. need more mike. miss you, mikey.
I wonder how many of my long list of issues can be traced to my mother???
I have a similar fear. BBQs are even worse! Open flames? Hell no. I don’t remember my mom ever catching herself on fire though.
listened to this while john was cooking so that added an extra layer of excitement to it!