well ive spent the better part of the morning lecturing my stomach on the reasons to NOT throw up. not necessarily cause i feel i need to do so, but more because my obsessive compulsive side has taken over. i am unfortunately a creature of habit. and as fate would have it, i have this habit of spending mothers day with the flu. not just the cough-cough-my-throat-tickles flu. more along the lines of holy-shit-i-think-my-spleen-just-passed-through-my-lips type of flu. the motherload flu. how fucking appropriate. and me being the frantic worrier that i am, is just sure this year will bring the same good tidings. im not quite sure where this all came from either. i mean, i know my father is obsessive compulsive to a fault. and my sister got the short stick of this too. but they are a little more 'normal' about it i guess. locking the door a set number of times, washing their hands, and so on. and whatever you do, dont brush your teeth anywhere where they might KNOW youre doing so. in fact, just pretend you dont have any teeth at all. but somehow all the obscurities in my mentality are a bit more off. everything is about numbers. i wont do certain things unless the clock is on an interval of 5. i refuse to hang up my clothes in the closet because it will absolutely drive me crazy if they are not in order. by color, sleeve lenghth, material. i wont even be at home, and ill SENSE theres something out of order, and it will piss me off until i give up and leave the clothes in baskets. dvds are organized by type, then by color of the case. everything is about color, or number. let me clarify something quick. i am DEATHLY.AFRAID.OF.PUKING. no lie. i would rather go through a dozen labors and a massive head trauma then to throw up. and when i was 3, i puked. when i was 6, i puked. notice a pattern? i spent my entire eighth year of life begging the gods to not let me turn 9. 9, i did NOT puke. holy hell. it didnt come again til 16. puked. 21, puked. shit. now my calculations are off. it could come at any time! arghhhhhh! so now im left with a world that revolves around numbers, and patterns and habit. and there is no pattern, no sequence. fock. i have to hang on with a mighty grasp to the only things i am quite certain of... that i will never eat doritos again, that ive always hated math anyways and that mothers day is the devil.