September 21st, 2008 by Kateastrophe

SO, Heather at The Extraordinary Ordinary is hosting Soap Opera Sunday this month and she also suggested our theme of “Three’s Company.”  Now, I have plenty of those kinds of stories, but I think the Richard saga has been dragging on long enough that I should dedicate some time to finishing that up.  And off I go.

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The evening I spent with Matt was fun.  We talked through most of dinner and then went to play pool with our group.  We talked college football and whatnot.  We had a good time, but at the end of the evening, we just said good-bye.  I knew I was way to messed up to get involved with anyone.  Besides, Matt had just moved to Arizona and I had a great job, a free place to live and a dysfunctional relationship that was coming up on it’s two year anniversary.  Life was grand.

I continued down the path of dysfunction and drama with Richard.  We were seeing each other a little more often now, but it was on weird nights and, as usual, never planned.  I had a feeling he was, once again, seeing someone else, but I had no proof of this and I was so done caring enough to ask.  I had just sort of accepted that it was what it was.  I didn’t talk about him with anyone else and I was alone a lot.  I was in great shape because instead of a real social life, I had a gym life.  I was working out like six days a week and spending a lot of time with my Mom.

See?  Life was fun.

About three weeks after the football game where I met Matt, I got a phone call from my girlfriend Rhonda, who lived in Arizona.  She said that a big group of her friends (who lived in both Utah and Arizona) were meeting in Las Vegas to go to the BYU vs. UNLV game there that weekend.  Then she said Matt had been asking about me and she had given him my phone number so he could invite me to go along — and he was calling that night.

I was flattered, of course, and happy to talk to him when he called.  I agreed to come to Vegas and then we chatted (ok I chatted) for another half an hour or so.  I still wasn’t really thinking it was going to go anywhere because . . . well, you know.  RICHARD.

So, on to Vegas.  A bunch of Matt’s friends came from Utah (one of whom hitched a ride to Vegas with me and was very cool.) and we all crashed in a hotel in Boulder City.  Like, ten of us.  In one hotel room.  Yeah.  Somehow, in the hub-ub, Matt and I ended up in the same bed.  Yeah, don’t ask me how, but it happened.  I think it was sort of a . . . watching movies late, no one paying any attention to sleeping arrangements and then POOF, we’re all asleep.  We stayed on COMPLETELY opposite sides of the bed, not touching at all.  I woke up and laughed because I was hugging the wall and he was hugging the coffee table.  Other than that, the weekend was uneventful.  I didn’t sit with him at the BYU game, we chatted a bit, but we chatted with others too . . . and then the weekend was over.  I had learned not much more than the fact that Matt was horribly shy.  I must have caught him on a good night when we met, because this boy was SHY SHY SHY.  He’d blush easily, he was quiet.  He’d hide in a corner and draw no attention to himself.  I will be honest and say that I have no idea what to DO with shy people.  I’m the opposite of shy.  Shy people scare me.  Seriously.

I drove home (got a ticket for speeding) and went on with my dysfunctional (have I mentioned DYSFUNCTIONAL) relationship.  I didn’t hear from Matt, he didn’t hear from me.  In fact the report from Rhonda was that Matt thought I was “a talker.”  While I am a talker, I was offended.  How dare he!

Two weeks later I had plans to be in Phoenix for Halloween.  I had been promising Rhonda that I would come visit her for a long time, so I finally decided that weekend would be a fun time.  I showed up late in the evening and a bunch of her friends were going to a bunch of parties.  Matt happened to be among the group of friends and showed up sans costume, so I kindly provided him with my fleece Viking hat (yes, fleece Viking hat.  Complete with horns and braids.  IN FLEECE.) which he wore for the whole evening.  Once again, I was seeing a non-shy side of Matt.  He was so shy in Vegas and here he was wearing a hilarious, attention grabbing Viking hat.  I was starting to question the shyness.

After the parties were over we went our seperate ways and, once again, I figured I’d never see him again.

Haha, wrong again.  The next morning Rhonda and I decided to get in some shopping and a movie.  Then she asked if she could invite Matt.  I didn’t really have a problem with that, so along he came.  We went and picked him up at his house and spent the whole day at the mall where we saw a movie, did some shopping, ate some food . . . and I realized that I really liked this guy.  Like, a lot.  I realized this right about the time we walked into the movie theatre.  At that point I had no idea what to do next.  It was like I was twelve years old again. 

After the movie we ended up at Rhonda’s house, all hanging out until the wee hours of the morning.  As the night progressed the roommates and Rhonda all went to bed and Matt and I were still out on the couch talking and laughing.  We weren’t tired at all so we decided to watch a move.  Glitter, as a matter of fact (and it was bad. Bad bad bad).  I watched the whole thing and I think Matt drifted in and out of conciousness.   After the movie we were both wide awake and the next logical thing to do seemed obvious.  It took a little while because I sure wasn’t going to make the first move and Matt was shy, but eventually it happened.  He leaned in and gently kissed me.  It was the best kiss I’ve ever had (and I’d kissed a LOT of people at this point).  I can’t even find words to describe it.  It was soft and sweet and gentle and AMAZING — and it lasted a very, very, very long time. 

The next morning I was sort of swimming in joy.  Matt went home to get ready for church and Rhonda and I did the same.  We all went to church together and Matt sat next to me and held my hand the entire time.  After church we went and got some food and then I had to leave for the airport.  Matt went with us and when they dropped me off at the curb he hugged me, kissed me and told me he’d talk to me soon.

And then I got on a plane, flew the hour and a half to Utah and walked to the curb where Richard was waiting for me.

September 8th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

So let it be stated, for the record, that I suck at Soap Opera Sunday lately.

Let’s try to move on with this ridiculously long Richard saga, shall we? Here’s where we left off last . . . I was being all dramatic and sobby, yet again.

I was determined to never speak to Richard again. I was hurt and alone and frustrated and I just needed to let myself heal. I immediately started watching myself to see if I needed ani-depressants again, but I seemed to be doing better than the last couple of times. I was having a rough time sleeping so my “nurse,” who is also called “Mom” provided me with three sleeping pills to help me for the first few days. (Let it be known that Ambien sleep is the best frickin’ sleep I’ve ever had. Take one at 10:00, drift peacefully to sleep and blissfully open your eyes exactly eight hours later feeling like a queen. ) I was struggling, but I was keeping my crap together.

Richard was making it easy. We hadn’t missed a nightly phone call in almost two years, but he wasn’t calling. I thought he finally got the message and was going to leave me alone.

Hahahahahahahaha.

Five days after the horrible night, he called and left a message on my phone. “BUD! Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you all week and I’m worried that you’re dead or something. I miss you and I have tickets to the game this weekend for us! Callmecallmecallme.”

Uh, WHAT?!

It was like a piece of his brain was missing. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t watched me sob on the floor of his living room for two hours less than a week before.

I ignored that phone call as well as the next ten. He called four times a day at least and I ignored him for a few more days until he got tricky and called me from a number I didn’t know.

I answered the phone and he just started talking non-stop about missing me and wondering where I’d been and asking how I was and all that stuff that he never ever did. He wanted to see me that night and he wasn’t accepting no for an answer. He was in his car right that minute and on his way to my house.

My brain was screaming at me to hang up on him and leave my house that very second, but my heart and every bone and muscle in my body was aching for his presence. He was like a drug and I was completely addicted to him and unable to ever say no.

I was sitting on the couch when he arrived. He didn’t knock on the door, he just walked in and came over to me and scooped me up in a huge hug. I melted into him, my senses on fire in his presence. I had missed his touch, his smell, his voice . . . everything.

We sat on the couch for a long time, talking and laughing, just like when we were first dating. All my resolve to forget about him disappeared and I jumped in, starting the whole vicious cycle over again, except this time he was a little better. He made a little more effort, tried a little harder. Granted, it still wasn’t enough, but I was clinging to the hope that he was taking baby steps and eventually he would be running right for me. We fought sometimes, I hated him sometimes, he thought I was clingy sometimes, but we clung to each other for some crazy reason.

Things were OK. Not great, but OK. We still spent a lot of time apart, doing our own thing, but we clung to each other for some reason . . . most likely habit, I’m sure.

September rolled around and it was college football season again. Almost two years since we met. The students were back in town and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t one of them. I was working full-time and starting to feel like a real grown up.

One of my best friends, Rhonda, had recently moved to Phoenix and met some guy who’s uncle flew private planes, so they hitched a ride from Phoenix to Provo to catch the BYU vs. Standford game. Rhonda and I sat in her family’s seats and decided to meet a bunch of people at our favorite Mexican Restaurant, Los Hermanos, after the game.

I was in rare form that night. I get pretty excited at football games, and I was decked out in blue and white, with an exceptionally attractive hairstyle which included my hair in a ponytail on TOP of my head, sticking out of a BYU visor which I was wearing backwards and upside down. My new shoes had caused a bleeding blister on the back of my heel, so, in a public restaurant, I had removed my shoes. I was a vision of class.

As we walked into the restaurant and Rhonda told me “the guy I flew up with is really cool. I think you’ll like him.”

“Yeah right,” I thought, “I’m not involving any more boys in my world of crazy.”

We walked to our table and there were two cute guys there, obviously brothers. The older, cuter one stood up, shook my hand and said “Hi, I’m Matt. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Maybe I’ll involve someone else in my crazy,” I thought. “This one’s kinda cute!”

September 6th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

While I try to collect my feisty thoughts, head on over to Heather’s place . . . she’s hosting Soap Opera Sunday this month and she helped suggest the COOLEST theme.  You’ll have to head over there for more details.  Thanks so much Heather!!

I’m still feeling kind of crappy but my emotions are a  liiiitle more in check today.  I’ll be participating in SOS this week . . . trying, once again, to get closer to finishing up the Richard story.  We’re ALMOST  there . . . or are we?

For the record, I hate ketchup.

August 16th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

I’m going to attempt, once again, to write two Soap Operas this weekend.  I have to finish the Richard saga ONE of these days, so I might as well add another chapter, and I have too many hilarious kissing stories to miss out on “First Kiss” month!  My lovely Brillig is hosting for the entire month of August, so head on over to her place to check out other kissing stories.  We had SO many good ones last week, I’m chomping at the bit for this week’s stories.  If you have been living under a rock (kidding) and don’t know what Soap Opera Sunday is, check out this post right here for details.  Also, don’t forget that we have an Anonymous Soap Opera Blog for those of you who might be a bit shy. 

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The title of my post comes from a phrase I saw on a t-shirt tonight at Johnny Rockets.  I almost spit out my Diet Coke, wondering where that phrase was when I needed it back in the day.  Feelings are Boring.  Kissing is Awesome.  HAHAHAH

I may have mentioned I was a kissing slut.  I’ve kissed a lot of boys.  Like, 50 a lot.  I started young, during the summer I was 13, and I started the right way, with a real boyfriend and all of that . . . but shortly after that, things got a little, well, wonky.  I spent the better part of 10 years kissing boys mostly BEFORE we’d even had a date, and then wondering what I’d done to deserve their hatred as they never called again.  Just ask Brillig.  It’s hilarious how . . . gooey I was.  I’d go gaga over any guy who would look my way.  I was mocked endlessly for this, because, by definition, a kissing slut shouldn’t care about her kisses.  My girlfriends would tell me that I just needed to either NOT kiss boys so soon or EXPECT them to not care about me if I did.  I worked hard on this . . . sometimes.

I distinctly remember the first guy I kissed where I didn’t have gooey feelings.   It’s a long story . . . and very tied to my best girl Brillig.  See, Brillig is a few years older than me, therefore she started college when I was still in high school.  So she knew college boys.  And naturally she’d introduce them to me.   At BYU, where Brillig attended,  they have an abnormal amount of people who speak foreign languages fluently, thanks much in part to the LDS Church’s missionary program.  So, to encourage the ongoing study of the many languages, they created Language Housing, where students “auditioned” in their specific language to live in that “house” where they ONLY spoke said language.  So Brillig lived in the Italian House, and there were many other “houses.”  Arabic, German, Russian and, the most popular . . . The Spanish House.  The Spanish House was most popular for two reasons.  First, it was the largest, due to the large number of fluent Spanish speakers.  Second, it had the hottest guys.

One night she took me to a church function in the Spanish House and she pointed out the heart throb of the house, Allen, and told me she had a bit of a crush on him.  I took one look at him and immediately shared her crush, but didn’t think much of it.

Cut to several weeks later, and Thanksgiving Break.  I was out of school and had a car.  Brillig was alone at the Italian House because all her roommates had gone home and her parents were far, far away in Argentina running a mission there . . . and BYU, for the most part was like an empty tomb, but there were a few stragglers here and there.  Two particularly interesting stragglers.  Allen, the hot Spanish House guy, and the hot guy from the Russian house who’s name I CANNOT remember for the life of me, but let’s call him Dan, because I don’t use real names here anyway.

After Thanksgiving dinner, my dear buddy Hannah and I decided to head over to Brillig’s place because, let’s be honest, it was WAY more fun at her place than at home.  Brillig’s good friend Matt joined us too.  I don’t remember how on earth it happened, but SOMEHOW we all ended up watching movies in the men’s Russian house with Dan . . . and Allen. Now, it must be said that THREE very interesting Soap Opera’s occurred that night, if I’m not mistaken.  I might be wrong about one of them, but  Brillig and Dan had one of their own, as did Hannah and Matt(I think) . . . but those are not my stories to tell.  Mine is all about Allen and myself.

Did I mention Allen was hot?  He was super duper ohmagosh hot.   His parents were both Mexican but he had been raised in the US and somehow had ended up looking more Italian than Mexican, if you ask me.  Curly dark hair.  Chiseled features.  HOT body.  He was sweet and soft spoken and laughed easily.

The plan for the evening, again, if I remember right, was for BRILLIG to hook up with Allen and me to not really hook up with anyone.  Brillig had the crush . . . I was a wee not-quite-16-year old high school girl.  (Ok I just remembered I totally stole the car and drove over there illegally.  HAHAHA.)   Somehow, things got turned upside down when I ended up on the couch with Allen.  Holding hands.  At that point, I totally knew I was getting some.  And I knew, for the first time, I was having a NCMO (Non-Committal Make-Out) and wouldn’t care if I ever saw this guy again.

I remember it was snowing that night . . . the gorgeous glittery icy snow that makes the world feel magical.  We were in and out of the apartment all night, laughing and playing in the snow, but finally settled in around 3 am to watch a movie.  (Any of you who are familiar with BYU know we were all TOTALLY breaking rules here.  No members of the opposite sex in your apartment after midnight.  Yeah, oops.)  Only we didn’t really watch a movie.

Our first kiss was good.  It wasn’t magical or anything, but he obviously knew what he was doing and was very tender and sweet about it.  I remember that he had very soft lips and smelled mildly of chocolate.  Once we started, we didn’t stop kissing for several hours.  Nothing passionate or out of control, just a great, old fashioned make-out session . . . the kind that leaves you with swollen lips.  We kissed and kissed and kissed, barely taking time to notice the other FOUR PEOPLE in the room.  (I cannot tell you how many times myself or my girlfriends have kissed a guy with another one of our friends, or two, or three, or four . . . in the room.)  We kissed until the sun rose and then fell asleep in each others arms, on the very uncomfortable dorm issued couch.

We woke up around 8:00 in the morning.  I remember looking at the clock and adding up the two hours of sleep I had just  had.  I stretched and rolled over to face Allen and kissed his nose.  I’ll never ever forget the next moment as long as I live.  He squeezed me tight, sighed softly, kissed me on the lips and said

“What was your name was again?”

I left that morning laughing hysterically and never planning on seeing him again.  I asked Brillig a couple of times if he’d asked about me, but he hadn’t.  Fine by me.  Within a week or two I had a serious boyfriend anyway.  I was proud that I had successfully kissed a boy without becoming obsessed and not being sad that I’d never look at him again.

As luck would have it, less than a year later, his parents decided to move to Provo, where Brillig and I had grown up, and they moved into the boundaries of my ward (church congregation).  Don’t worry, Allen moved in with them.  Imagine my surprise when I showed up at church on Sunday to find not only Allen, but his ENTIRE FAMILY sitting in the pew in front of me.  I was a little shocked, but figured it would never be an issue, because like he was going to tell his parents about the random girl he made out with one night.

Apparently I was the more wrong.  He told his entire family.  Including his mother, who just happened to be the leader of my girl’s youth group.  And she made no bones about the fact that she didn’t like me one bit.  The situation was awkward.

It became more awkward when I was asked to speak in church . . . on the same Sunday their entire family was speaking.*  As in, I was the only other person besides Allen-family speaking that day.

I spoke on forgiving and forgetting.

*Those of you familiar with the LDS Church know that we have a one hour meeting, usually at the beginning of church where members of the congregation are asked to prepare and present a talk on an assigned gospel topic.  It’s tradition that a missionary and his/her family speak both before their mission and after they return.**

**Allen’s family went to church with mine for a very long time.  The day I spoke with them was the week before Allem  left to serve his two year mission.  Although I was in college when he returned after two years in the mission field, I happened to be in church with my family the day he and his family spoke again.  Allen gave what has gone down in  history as the strangest talk EVER.  He was allotted 15 minutes to speak and when he came to the pulpit, he just . . . stood there.  Not saying a word.  For 14 minutes.  The leaders kept coming up to ask him if everything was OK and he’d shoo them away, indicating that everything was fine.  After the most uncomfortable 14 minutes of my life, he finally spoke up and made some random point about what’s it’s like for those not baptized (which I didn’t really understand) and sat down.  THAT WAS ALL HE SAID.  To this day, I am still flabbergasted.  

August 9th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

I hadn’t been kissed in a long time. Like a looooong time (well for me. The Mormon kissing slut). I think it had been almost a year (if I could find my journal I would tell you the exact amount of time . . . but alas . . . it’s still in a box somewhere.)

A good friend took pity on me and set me up with a guy in one of her classes. The only day we could get together was the night before I was leaving for study abroad in London. My last chance to get a kiss before I was off to Europe to kiss hot European guys. Excellent.

His name was Adam (not really. I change my names ’round here.). He was cute and sweet. Everything you’d imagine in a returned missionary attending Brigham Young University in 1999. Blonde hair, blue eyes, nice physique, quiet disposition . . . the perfect kind of guy. The kind of guy I should have always dated.

I don’t remember much about our date. We had a good time. We went hot tubbing. We held hands. We laughed. And then it was time to go home. It started raining on our way down the hill to my house. It was a gorgeous May evening and the rain just made it that much better.

We pulled up to my house and quickly ran to the cover of the porch, giggling. I realized in that moment that I’d never had the normal first kiss on the doorstep. All my previous kisses had happened during movies on the couch or in a park or other (semi) odd places. THIS was how it was supposed to happen. I mentally prepared myself for the perfect first kiss.

We stood on the porch for a few awkward minutes talking about what a good time we had, swaying back and forth awkwardly, looking at our feet. The electricity in the air was noticeable. The sound of the rain on the pavement and the glowing sidewalk just added to the palpable tension. We’d both glance up at each other occaisonally, but never at the same moment . . . until suddenly, we did.

He moved in gently, first taking my arms and pulling me closer and then tenderly cupping my face. He smiled gently and pulled me to his face, kissing me softly.

It was the perfect kiss, with the seemingly perfect guy, at the perfect moment.

I felt NOTHING.

Literally nothing. It was like kissing a wall. No spark, no electricity, no butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t believe it! I’d never had a kiss that did NOTHING for me before. I loved kissing! I loved everything about it!

I pulled away and then kissed him again immediately, assuming it was just a fluke.

Nichts. Nada. Niets.

I timidly said goodnight and that I hoped I see him again when I got back from Europe and let myself inside, saddened by the realization that my perfect guy . . . well . . . wasn’t.

August 9th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

So I’ve made a semi-crazy decision here this week. I’m writing TWO Soap Opera Sunday posts. The reason for this? Well, first of all, I’ve left you guys hanging for WAY too long with regards to the Richard story. Most of you may not care, but some of you have made it clear that I need to finish STAT. That will be the first post.

The second post will follow our monthly theme of “First Kisses.” I couldn’t NOT play along. I have way too many first kiss stories I am dying to share.

Check out Brillig’s site for other Soap Operas. We’ve got a lot of fun first kiss stories already! I’m loving it!

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SO, first things first . . . Richard. When I left off FOREVER ago, I had been trying to date other people and it just hadn’t worked out. So I was actively persuing him in any way possible. I let all my pride go and just jumped in with everything I had. And it got ugly. Well for me, at least. His life was about to get much easier.

I was doing anything and everything for him to prove that I would be the best.wife.ever. My credit card bill got bigger and bigger as I bought him every cool thing he saw or thought about out loud. I was his nurse when he pulled various muscles and tendons playing baseketball/soccer. I’d drive from Provo to Salt Lake at a moments notice to go on a date or bring him dinner or go to a family party. (I LOVED his family and they loved me.)

The Ex (who’s name we no longer speak) was engaged by now, so she wasn’t in the picture any longer, but I had lots of other “competition” . . . as in, every other girl he met. He was out clubbing with friends whenever he wasn’t with me, so i was always worried about the girls he met. I’d grill him endlessly and make it known that I wasn’t happy. He’d get mad every once in a while, but overall, he benefited from my presence, so he’d try hard not to piss me off.

I did a lot of things for Richard that I’m not particularly proud of now. He liked dark hair . . . so I died my hair black. He liked certain clothes, so I’d wear those. I’d watch endless hours of Sports Center and rub whatever muscle was aching that day and then sit there helpless when he’d fall asleep, weighing on me heavy as a rock. I’d give up anything for a second with him.

I put the “fun” in “dysfunctional relationship,” no?

Then there was one particularly dark night. It’s a night that is very hard to think about, let alone write about, so I’m sparing you and myself the details. Lines were crossed and horrible things were said and done and I thought my heart would never heal. It became very clear that night exactly what Richard thought of me. I was like a play thing. A toy that he could toss away at will. He was embarrassed of me, worried about who would see us together and what they would think. He wanted freedom from me and from everyone, but he wanted the things his loved ones provided, so he used us all.

I drove home from his house that day sobbing uncontrollably. I called my Dad and told him I was moving back east. I knew I had to get as far away from Richard as humanly possible. I stayed in bed crying the next day until Hannah felt like swinging by and discovered me, broken. She stayed and talked to me and helped me calm down a bit. She was my saving grace that day.

But I was still very, very broken. And the depression found me again.

August 7th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

I think the thing that tied my girlfriends and I together more than almost anything else when we were younger (read: in high school) was our love of kissing. If you read Brillig you already know this, from her post today. She hit the nail on the head. We were obsessed. There were always squeals of joy when Buttercup and Wesley kissed in Princess Bride.  I think we all got “wigglies”during the kiss in the rain in The Notebook (still swooning, seriously).  How about Gone With the Wind . . . the staircase scene??  Ha cha.  Spiderman?  You know the one of which I speak.  Room With A View, anyone??  Ahhh there were so many.

The movie kisses were all well and good, but the stories that inspired the “wigglies” more than any others were our own.  We’d come home from a date (or a night out on the town or whatever) and all pile in a bed and re-hash EVERY DETAIL of the first kiss we’d just had.   There would be ooing and aaahing and squealing and shouts of “SHUT UP!” We’d stay up all night drowning in the joy of those electrifying, hormone filled moments.  There was nothing like a first kiss.

We once came up with a “dare” within the group . . . the next girl to get a first kiss had to pull away, look the guy deeply in the eyes and say “Um, can we do that again, please?”  I believe Jewels holds the honor of being the only one with the rocks to actually DO it.   Good form, Jewels,  Good form.

Brillig may have mentioned a kissing list in a journal she has.  And she may have mentioned that I have one too.  She also may have mentioned how much longer my list was then hers.  So, here it is, for all of you who are wondering just how long my list is.  FIFTY.  I have fifty names. There I said it.  I was a kissing skank.  But that also means that I got FIFTY first kisses.  Ah the fun.  And how great is it that my GREATEST kiss happened on such a great number?  (let me say great just a FEW more times!)  Matt holds the privilege of being lucky number 50.

So, why do I even bring all of this up?

Because Brillig is a genius.

Soap Opera Sunday has been slowly dying.  We needed something to liven it up and Brill had the greatest idea.  A monthly theme — something to get the creative juices flowing and inspire some of you.  Now let it be noted that you don’t HAVE to write within the parameters of the theme.  Some of us (who, me?) have unfinished business to write about.  Others may not want to share their stories that apply to that particular theme.  That is all OK.  This is just like . . . a little creative shove.

As I’m sure you’ve guessed (or read already over at Brillig’s pad), the theme this month is First Kisses!!!  ANY first kiss.  Your first ever.  Your first BAD kiss (oh gosh do I have some of those!).  Your first kiss with your husband.  Your favorite first kiss.  The first kiss that shouldn’t have been.  Your first kiss as a mother or wife . . . WHATEVER!   Write away and then check out Brillig’s site on Saturday for the auto-link so we can all revel in the gloriousness of your first kisses.  Because who doesn’t love a good kissing story?

Or fifty???

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Wondering what the crap Soap Opera Sunday is?  Want the rules?  Want to post something anonymously?  Click away for all the info!!

July 12th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Ok so I’m not blind . . . just blurry!! The surgery went PERFECTLY and honestly? I thought it would be way harder, longer, more painful and crappier recovery. My vision is slightly blurry and my eyes feel pretty scratchy, but other than that? Not a thing wrong. Yay for Dr. McCullouch.

I will attempt to write the continuation of my Soap Opera tomorrow morning, but for now, here is the Mr. Linky for any of you who are playing!!

July 6th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

AH HA! I forgot to add the Mr. Linky CODE to my new template. There’s the problem.

So now it works.

You’re welcome. Anyone who cares . . .

June 28th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Hey all!  I’m sort of out of comission whilst in Utah but I thought I’d post the Mr. Linky (and er, sorry about last week!) so that any of you playing Soap Opera Sunday were able to put your link up! Happy Soaping!