On that note,
I also have the right to...
- use eenie meenie miney mo to make most of life's tough decisions. I also have the right to pick the exact opposite anyway. "Mo" is not the boss of me.
- put up the fist mic, and sing loudly into it every time Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" comes on.
- think fruit snacks are a perfectly acceptable dinner, and beef jerky is part of a well balanced breakfast.
- want to open a yoga studio/gym and call it "Camel Toe."
- refuse to wash my car because (at some point) it is going to rain.
- never admit when I gain any weight but rather blame the dryer for shrinking all my clothes. Dick.
- like Coldplay, and not be gay.
- eat gummy bears in twos so they don't get lonely in my stomach.
- write things like "gonorrhea medication" or "mustache rides" on the memo line when I am writing checks to friends.
- Facebook stalk someone so hard that I end up back at my own profile.
- think everything my cat does is fucking adorable. Disagree? Well, your child's finger paintings aren't so magical either.
- believe Matthew McConaughey was not at all acting in Dazed and Confused, and he really does love those red heads.
- be more afraid of my Google search history going public than a possible zombie apocalypse.
- hate pants and avoid them at all costs. Dresses, skirts, a toga? I don't care. Fuck pants.
- quote Step Brothers at least once a week. *This week's quota was reached while visiting my parents when I told my mom, "This house is a fucking prison, on planet bullshit, in the galaxy of this sucks camel dicks," when she asked me (and not my sister) to clear the table.