Some that I like.
The night I wore a hundred black widows: I get covered in spiders, and also end up shirtless. My favorite.
Sunday ritual: My dad humiliated me on a regular basis; but I really, really miss it. (Also kind of meaningful.)
You're literally killing me (not really): I am a pretentious grammar snob. I actually received my first hate e-mail for this one, so go me. (It accused me of "hypocrasy.")
Things I Hate-with-murderous-rage-for-no-good-reason Thursday: My husband tries to hit on me, and other things that went wrong that day.
30: I turn 30. Duh.
Looking back: The story about when I gushed more blood than I knew I contained, managed to not die, and also made another human, who also lived. It was a pretty good day.
Everything dies, baby: My son blurts out death-related stuff, and I love him for it.
He's an animal: We love, and are, animals.
Word to my mother: I love my own mom almost as much as being one. Also, she does not like to be startled.
Happy birthday, Dad: On the day my dad would have been fifty.
So beautiful it hurts: Beautiful son-related stuff. Also, super pretty pictures.