None. I ate bologna and cheese every day for breakfast and lunch until I was 12 years old. The only reason I eat cereal now is because us non-meat eaters need the iron. There is no cereal on earth good enough to eat 3 time a day.

Go back to school. I am a human sponge-there is so much I want to know and understand. I finished college, but it will never be enough. I want to inhale the scent of textbooks, feel the rush of getting another A, be involved in class discussions that suddenly turn into heated debates. Even though I know that learning is an everyday process, if I had a way, I would spend the rest of my life taking classes and strolling the darkened halls of education.

Back in the high life again by Steve Winwood

I was 12 years old and I was playing volleyball in the pool. A boy threw himself into my path to hit the ball and caught my face instead. His long fingernails raked across my eyeball, creating something that looked it had come out of a Stephen King movie. Nothing gets an adults attention faster then having blood pour OUT of your eye. Luckily no permanent damage, just a scar in a unique place.

Freshman by Verve Pipe

College. 4+ years of drama and pain summed up in one song.

"Totally...for real...like, you know"
There is no place on earth where you could talk like a valley girl and come across as an intelligent person. If you need to improve your grammar, you can read books, do cross word puzzles, play word games. Very few people are able to sound stupid and be successful at the same time.

Any word that has numbers used in place of letters
It drives me absolutely insane! I can't even text people using number substitutes, it has to have proper grammar.

It reminds me of a childhood where we were encouraged to walk barefoot in the rain, build castles out of boxes and ships out of bunk beds. With a mother who felt it was more important to play with her kids then to make sure that the house was spotless-nonsense was acceptable, and educational tangents were encouraged. Despite the fact that Shel Silverstein had a rather creepy countenance, his poetry reminded us to believe that anything was possible...and to always take the garbage out.

Spaghetti Bolognese with Bacon & Egg at Spoon House in Gardena

On a bad, horrible, no good day...of which there have been plenty, I always end up eating either A) cheese sandwiches or more likely B) spaghetti by the bowlful. I could eat it morning, noon and night-hot or cold, sometimes straight out of the Tupperware container in the middle of the night.

My earliest memories, around the age of 3 consist of sitting on a couch reading to my mother. I cannot recall a time in my life when books, reader's digest, national geographic, novels, condensed books, etc. were not a part of my life. We live in an apartment with no-more-room for any more books...and yet, at yard sales, goodwill, from friends, from family, they pour in. I have books under my bed, under my desk, stacked on the aquarium, weighting down my bread machine. Its hard to part with the ones I have read-and liked, because what if I want to read it again? On the other hand, come Spring, my resolution is to have a yard sale and try so very hard to part with my ink-filled friends. Psychologically, I know it can be an escape. I have the ability to run away from this nowhere town, my crappy job, the general frustrations of life, if even for an hour. I pity the people who go years without reading a book. They will miss out on the suspense of Dan Brown, the depth of Roots, the ethical questions posed by Jodi Picoult. As for the second question, its not something I would ever give up. In fact, if I had to choose between a sandwich and a great book, I'd take the book any day.

When I was five years old, I saw ET for the first time. No problem, ET is cute...the problem was the men who suddenly invaded the house from every corner, window, and door. They wore big white suits, and you couldn't see their faces through the reflective masks. I was freaked out then, and even now, more then 20 years later, I still have occasional nightmares that include scary bunny-suit clad men leaning over my bed.

It was remarkable because we were sitting in traffic, in a different country, at two am...and this elephant just walks by us in traffic, with a red, blinking tail light attached to his swishy little tail. Its one of those things you remember even years later, and totally makes it worth traveling to other countries.

I didn't finish it because it was beyond bizarre. It reminded me of some horrible dream you'd have after a night of really cheap tequila. There is no money on this earth that would convince me that I need to continue reading about Augustine, the Finches and the insane asylum that they live in, and the pervert in the backyard. It's such an off kilter autobiography, I seriously doubt half of it is true. In fact, it reminded me of James Frey and "A Million Little Pieces".