Does That Make Me Crazy?

This blog post was officially inspired by BeingBaileyJ's hilarious post, Maybe I'm Crazy, about some of her everyday habits that other people might find down right cray-cray. My list of borderline asylum material questions are not everyday habits, fortunately, or I most likely would have been committed to some kind of facility for the mentally unstable long before now. The fact that I actually used the term cray-cray in this post is, in itself, evidence that I just might be a few bricks shy of a load. But anyway, I'm just gonna keep my fingers crossed that I actually have some readers left after you all get a load of this one. Here goes nothing:

• I bought and paid at least $70 for 14 different magazines at 4 different airport stores (3 of which happened to be in the same airport) and carried them throughout the entire 20 hour journey to Denmark. That is just over one magazine per hour. For those of you who do not know, it takes far more than one hour to complete most mags. Does that make me crazy? For the record, I only read two of them, and am saving the rest for the upcoming back to back flights of 12 hours each required to take me to New Zealand. Not sounding so crazy after all now, am I? Or am I?

This is the actual pile of magazines I am talking about. Minus one. Do have any idea how heavy this pile is?

• I found a sweet little snail with a cracked shell on his back hanging out on my window sill last night. He was still alive, but looked a little haggard. I Googled how to rescue a snail with a broken shell, and miraculously found a surprisingly informative website that hooked me up with some mad snail saving skills. Next, I directed Henry to go outside into the dark, rainy night to pick leaves, twigs and rocks to put in little Franklin's new Tupperware house (with holes poked in the roof of course), or cabin as I like to call it, since his shell is technically his house. Anyway, after we built his cabin, I instructed Henry to cut up some of our calcium supplements, because apparently snails love calcium and we were fresh out of cuttlefish bones like the website suggested. Twelve hours later, little Franklin is alive and on the mend. That was a long story, but does it make me crazy? Curious about how to care for a snail? Click HERE.

This is the state I found Franklin in on my windowsill last night. Poor little guy!

Franklin curled up in his cozy, new, Tupperware jungle cabin. He looks a little dead here, but I promise he is not. I just checked on him.

• I cried a little during the movie Ted yesterday, which is still actually playing in theaters here, (SPOILER ALERT) at the part when the obviously fictional, talking teddy bear got ripped in half and died while trying to escape a psycho kidnapper by climbing up a tower at Fenway Park. Does that make me crazy?

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• I haven't washed my hair in one week. Eight days to be exact. Unless you count dry shampoo. I feel like you already like me less just from reading that last sentence, but I will ask the question anyway: Does that make me crazy, or just plain dirty? In case that just makes me the hugest dirt bag in the world, allow me to defend myself: I just had it colored before I came back to Denmark, and I always try to hold off on washing as long as possible to make the color last. You know you have all done it, and yes, I am going to wash it today. I think. I'm actually kind of feeling how shiny the grease is making my new color seem. Totally joking! Obviously I just have to say that so you don't think I am disgusting ;)

If you want to go dirtbag style like me, might I suggest a little Marc Anthony dry shampoo? via

• Just yesterday, I let Henry come at me with a pair of hair cutting scissors and tweezers to remove 5 stitches from my body. The tools were as sterile as I could possibly make them, and he was instructed, and observed, performing proper hand washing techniques for at least 30 seconds, but I still have to wonder, does that make me crazy? FYI, he has assisted a cow in having a C Section, so I figured if he can do that, he could probably cut a few stitches under my expert guidance.

These are not mine, obviously (uhh...ouch!) but this is exactly what I let Henry do to me. via

• I was almost going to make us drive 4 hours, round trip, to a movie theater in another city, so I could finally watch Argo. I have been dying to see this since the first mention that Ben Affleck (two words: The Town) was working on creating a new film. I was going to see it the Sunday before I left for Denmark, but I was far too hungover to hit the movies, which pretty much indicates that I might as well have been on my death bed, I was that ill. If you think all that makes me crazy, just wait, it gets worse. So then, after we saw Argo, the plan was to make us go to the late movie at a different theater (same out of town city), back to back style, to see Lawless. I already watched that one while I was home, but I loved it so much, and knew Henry would too, I wanted to see it again with him. Okay, who am I kidding? I just wanted to see Tom Hardy in action a second time around. Luckily, I have an amazing boyfriend who actually agreed to this ridiculous plan. Even luckier, we found out just in the nick of time that Argo is coming to our town this Monday, for a one night only premier! Even luckier still, the tickets were two for the price of one! So, even though that ridiculous plan of back to back movie theatering and a 4 hour road trip to do it no longer exists, does the fact that I even cooked up the idea in the first place make me absolutely cray-cray?

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What weird stuff do you do that might make other people think you are crazy?

PS: Go see all of the movies mentioned in this post. Just do it. Trust me. Disclaimer: I haven't seen Argo yet, but I doubt I'm wrong in saying it will be one of the best movies of the year, even though my friend back home said she was disappointed. She is wrong. She has to be. I will keep you posted.

PPS: Adopt a snail with a broken home the next time you see one. It will make you feel soooo good. If you can't find a broken snail, saving any another other half living creature will do. Unless it dies on you. Then I don't know what to tell you.