I did not kill Bob the Tomato or Larry the Cucumber

This Not Me post is using the adjectives and similes my wonderful readers provided in the comments section of my last post. Quite a challenge, ladies! Let's do this again some time shall we? (Similes and adjectives are in bold)

Today has not been slow and methodical. I have not felt as though I'm travelling through the day like a raindrop on a window. Slowly tracing my way down transparent panes. I should feel that way tomorrow, when we get blustery rain.

I did not learn from my sista, (as in simply, fabulous, dear wonderful friend) that I have made a mistake with my gardening. I don't make mistakes, much less blog about them.

I did not plant my seeds in tiny pots and then bring them outside everyday for sunshine. I wouldn't do something so colorfully ridiculous.

There are rules about gardening, you know.

It's called 'hardening off'. And you do that well after your plants have sprouted. You would never do that during their initial stage of life...because that would kill them faster than a new-super-sized microwave on high heat. I don't know how to use a microwave therefore I am metaphorically uncapable of killing new plant life.

Because in gardening, I didn't just dive in and make a go of things hoping it'll turn out. That would be like a junior high girl going down a wet, slippery waterslide on a boiling hot day while wearing a bikini. No, I don't make a go of things hoping everything will be nice and neat and all in place at the end. That's not me.

I did not decide to just hurry up and plant seeds because I didn't want to pay for the starts at a nursery. I wouldn't be so delightfully delusion as to hope that I could just throw some seeds in a pot and save money! Not me. I am willing to pay full price. I am a pyrrhic gardener and will drop as much money as my garden needs.

Some would say it's a mischievous person who would blame the lack of space in their laundry room for the reason of moving their plants out each day. And I would say that those people might want to look up the definition of mischievous and realize that they are using it at the wrong place and the wrong time.

Mischief? In the garden? Not capable of it.

How NOT to look like a band member of K*SS

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

So here is a little tutorial for all you ladies...

Step One: Do not apply this right before you go to church

Step Two: Do not sing this song and cry as you worship your Saviour

Do not worry, you do not end up looking like this:

Step Three: Afterwards, do not greet other members of the congregation without first looking in the mirror or asking your spouse if it your face looks ok.

Do not wonder why people are looking at you funny.

Do not laugh hysterically when you go to the bathroom and finally see yourself in the mirror.

Do not do that.

I would never do that, though.

Because I don't laugh hysterically!

I Am Not a Jane Austen Addict

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

***Please read the following with an British accent***

I did not watch a romantic period movie while my husband was gone this weekend. I would not do that. A woman's duty is to watch well to the ways of her household and I would not let things go awry while the master of the house is gone.

I most certainly did not go on to youtube.com and find yet another Jane Austen film to watch. Actions of that kind show a weakness of character and a wavering constitution. I am the soul of discretion and act accordingly.

I would not clap my hands with giddy excitement as I would encounter yet another wonderful dance scene. Acting in such a way is quite childish and would reflect badly on my upbringing. I never bring dishonour on my mother's good name and her hard work, despite what others may say.

And I certainly would not stay up late at night to watch how things turn out, despite the fact that when I started I realized it was a four hour saga and knew it would take until dawn to finish. I am a wise young woman who knows that I have duties to perform in the morning and therefore would not be found staying up late regaling myself with stories involving matters of the heart. It is simply not to borne on one like myself.

And yet, while I may have, at one time, thought myself to be rather attached to the idea of watching the dance scene over again, I let that idea pass. It simply would not do to have me show such a feebleness of character as to indulge in something so ridiculous. I never do anything ridiculous.

I would never do something as ridiculous as to post the dance number, here and now, for the world to see in the hopes that you, too, would join me in my selfish indulgence. I would never do that. I have too high of a regard for you. I would never do anything to injure you.

Never!

Well....A thousand pardons, but I must share. (I hope this does not show a fickleness of character?)

My name is not Inigo Montoya

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I did not watch Princess Bride yesterday.

And even if I had--which I didn't--I would never say, "Stop rhyming and I meant it! Does anybody want a ________?" I wouldn't say that with the actors because I don't speak out loud when I watch films. I am quiet like a stone.

In fact, finding me giggling at Vizzini saying, " You fell victim to one of the classic blunders - The most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia" - but only slightly less well-known is this: "Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line"! " Me, giggling at that? Inconceivable!

And I don't get scared when Buttercup is swimming in eel-infested waters. I did that when I was a kid and I am so not afraid of shrieking eels growing closer and closer and aaaahhhh! Becoming afraid like that would mean I've become totally engrossed in the film and I find I am watching the film as though I was little again. I never pretend to be little again. Ever.

And I did not pick up on jokes that I missed when I was younger. Because I am astute and nothing gets by me. Not even when the man in black says, ' Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.' I think I would've caught the first 20 times I watched it. After all, I am observant like a stone.

And I did not snicker when the clergyman said, " Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam... Snickering isn't something I do. It sounds like you are coughing through your nose and I don't know how to do that.

And I never imitate the Albino. Imitating requires skill and a good ear to be able to deliver the lines, "The Pit of Despair" with a raspy voice. I don't have a raspy voice, even though I am an albino. And I never guffawed as Prince Humperdink says to Buttercup "Please consider me as an alternative to suicide." Guffawing is awkward out loud laughing that draws attention to yourself. I don't draw attention to myself. Ever. I am part of the background. Like a stone.

And I didn't have the biggest smile on my face when Princess Buttercup flies through the air in her wedding gown looking like a beautiful falling star. I wouldn't get so much joy over seeing a beautiful bride, after all it's only a fairytale. And I don't believe in fairytales.

And I would never think about my own love story and the romance that I have with my own hero. That sounds so girly and silly. You'd have to ask me to dream to do that. And you know what I'd say to that, don't you?

As you wish.

I did not say those pants make your bum look flat

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama.

I did not purposely post a blurry photo of me and my girl, Jacquie, having serious bedhead and major tired eyes. That would be a cheeky way to post a picture and I'm not cheeky. You have to be British to pull off a good bit of cheekiness and I'm Finnish and therefore uncapable of cheekiness. Plus, it's embarrassing to post tired and bedhead pictures on the internet and I never do anything embarrassing.

Jacquie is too dear a friend to embarrass. A friend who did not fit the perfect little grey shoes better than I did, so naturally she did not take them. And I never insisted that she did. I am serious about shoe shopping and I would never give up a pair of shoes if it pinched me in the toes ever so slightly. I don't have how-things-feel-on-my-feet issues.

We did not take this picture late at night, in our hotel after gorging ourselves on "the Works" pizza. We are civilized girlie-girls and gorging and pizza aren't things we do. Not even after a day that included massive retail therapy and buying nothing at full price. We are not hunters who stalk the prey of quality fashion and then kill it at it's most vulnerable moment (a slash discount sale). We couldn't do that--we don't even have hunting jackets to wear that would allow us to engage in a sport that requires such skill.

And we most certainly did not watch Hannah Montana for half an hour. Little girls watch Hannah Montana. And we're not little. Or girls.

We're women--mature,behaving ourselves, never giggling at sweaters that look like they came from the dryer lint trap women.

In my defense, I was very...oh, I don't have an excuse for this one

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by Mckmama.

I did not make the remaining last bit of whipping cream in the carton all for myself. Nope. I am a woman of moderation and excessive use of dairy products is not something I do.

Nor did I run and get my camera thinking, "Hey, this would be a great blog post?" I do not think about my blog other than when I'm on my computer. That shows a weak constitution revealing that digital hobbies are starting to dominate other areas of my life. Me? Have a problem like that? I don't think so.

I did not take 3 big heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream and then gobble it right up and then put another 3 heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream before actually even tasting my hot chocolate. I wouldn't do that. That sounds like a crazy girl out of control with no moral-hot-chocolat-ish restraint. I am the picture of self-containment.

I never once ditched the hot chocolate for the bowl of whipped cream. There's something very childlike about that and clearly, as we all know from reading this blog, I am a very mature, reasonable and grown up adult. I don't "do" childish.

And I absolutely never bailed on the cup of hot chocolate and poured it into my bowl of whipping cream so I could enjoy it's creamy goodness and put an end to this time-wasting efforts of transferring whipping cream into the cup time and time again. While it is logical, I would never do that because, and I feel this bears repeating: although it is logical, it is very unsound in practical application and leads one to believe that there is a strong sense of whimsy nonsense going on in the kitchen.

And that never occurs at my house.