You.

Not really.

I mean, you're at least reading this. That gives you at least a few awesome points in my book. If you keep reading after now you're either a) weird, b) bored, or c) Erin.

This is only my second blog ever, which is more than some people write in their lives. It's still a very small number for me, so I'm going to treat it like it's my very own child that I made in about five minutes. It only takes five minutes to make a decision you'll regret for the rest of your life, and while I don't think I'll regret this forever, you never know. I can regret things for a long time.

It's kind of why I decided to make this instead of, you know, going back and reviving my old blog. Every couple of days (maybe more often) I flounce up to whoever's around me, strike a pose, and say:

You know what I HATE?

If it's the bro-boy, he says, "No, Libby," or "What is it this time?" or just looks at me like here we go again and says "What?"

If it's Mother she usually says, "No, daughter. What do you hate?" or sometimes, "I am not a dude," if I've said "Dude, you know what I HATE?" like I so often do.

If it's the cat she just stares at me and goes "merp," and I tell her anyway. The cat loves to hear about my opinions. The only thing that makes her happier is going on field trips to the top of the freezer or the top of the bro-boy's head.

Anyway, after I have hooked their interest by posing dramatically and/or falling onto a chair with my legs spread all manly, I go in for the kill. (In this blog I'm going to skip the dramatic poses, because they don't work very well when you can't see just how fabulous they are.) This is the part where I start rambling about WHAT I hate and WHY I hate it and WHEN I'm president of the world I am going to ELIMINATE it. This is the part where you nod along and pretend to be interested while I wave my hands around like a lunatic.

When I'm done, I usually follow one or two courses of action (that sounds kind of professional, don't you think?):

A) I wait expectantly for an answer, or

B) I jump up and run away before you have any time to do anything.

Since this is a blog and you're not exactly reading it at the same time as I'm typing it, neither of those is going to work. I'll have to take option C, which I made up right this moment:

C) I look over what I've written with a devious smirk and/or a maniacal cackle and click the orange "publish post" button.

After that, you can feel free to do whatever you want.

Have fun!