Hit list

I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is I kicked two people off my hit list today.

Wait. Hit list? Your probably thinking I think I am in the mafia. Not so, though I know I look the part. You may not be one who likes to confess it, but I will. I have people I don't like. I know I shouldn't but I do. I TRY to like everyone. Or...at least I try to try. Sometimes it takes more effort. Anyway, back to the point. I am not lame enough to write right down my hit list right here for everyone to see. But, in the back of my mind their is this irrational unlikeable feelings towards people. The hit list. Like if I was three years old and saw them on the playground I would hit them. Several times.

But, remember my good news! Two have left the list! It is an amazing feeling. I know I am sarcastic a lot, but I am being sincere. Its like the irrational feelings just went POOF and are gone! I feel like a new woman. (Other than the desperate need I have for cloths to wear that don't have oatmeal or cheerios on them). It feels great to finally get over myself and remember that I have no reason to like these people.

So whats the bad news you say? Imagine the place where the imaginary hit list records are kept. Bufford, the man in charge gets an email and shouts out to his peons who are standing in what looks like a factory line each with a white board and a dry erase marker. He yells to Wilma (who looks like an Oompa Loompa like everyone else at the hit list factory) and says, "Wilma. we've got a change on list number 2393940." Wilma nods her face serious and her dry eraser ready. Bufford continues, "trade out Francis the crazy college roommate for Franky the crazy ex boyfriend." Wilma nods, erases and writes in Frankie's name.


Here are some frequently asked questions about this.

1. Lindsey, does hit list factory really exist? Yes.
2. Lindsey, do you think this is appropriate to share on your blog? Yes. I am radioactive. This is what I do. If you have been or have been predicted to ever be on this list you wouldn't be reading it. Promise.
3. Lindsey, why do there have to be people on your hit list at all? I don't know. I am really trying to not have any. But it seems that I always have three. I don't know what it is about the number. I told you it was bad news. I wish that when one name goes marching off into "now we can be friends" land that no one would replace him. Somehow, it seems there is always someone to replace them.

So, if two have left there obviously needs to be replacements...right?

Here are the nominees in no particular order:
1. Fancy car guy who was talking on his cellphone on 295 the other day and was completly clueless to the fact that I was about to hit a parked van that he was pushing me towards because he was having SUCH A GOOD conversation going 85 miles an hour without holding on to HIS STEERING WHEEL!

2. Man from other country who apparently doesn't know that you shouldn't pass the person in front of you who is also merging onto the highway. Hello! Baby on board! She now knows french because I was a little upset.

3. Ya you from high school. I just remembered you the other day and was wondering why I never put you on a hit list. You definitely deserved it. Remember how I was just a sophomore and thought you were the coolest Junior. Remember how on a marching band trip you flirted with me the whole way to Saint George, but on the way home you made fun of me until I called you a bad name. Remember how I thought it would be cute if I asked your forgiveness by writing you a poem. (Ok, I know that was a dumb idea, but I was just a sophomore). Remember how I wasn't really good at writing poety so I "borrowed" one from my sister. (Sorry Brooke) Remember how it was the funniest poem about how we do things bad sometimes. Remember how you read it ALOUD to your AP physics class! Remember how I was mortified! Yea. You should have gone on the list.

4. Storage unit dude who advertised "climate control" and then wouldn't talk to us when we showed how everything we owned was moldy.

Ok, that probably enough nominees. Would you like to know some of the people who have left? Don't worry. This isn't full disclosure. I am aware this isn't my journal.

1. Francis the crazy roommate. She was on there for a good long while for chasing me down the hallway the week of finals and then locking me out of my dorm room. I took her off several years ago because I figure she gets funnier and weirder every time I tell the story. (FYI she put cadaver eyelashes on my desk....and never brushed her teeth...and never showered...and sat on my bed nude...

2. John, the crazy ex wannabe boyfriend. He probably wouldn't be off, but he died. Yeah. Thats not really funny. But, thats how he got off.

3. Sister Sivertson. The one person who could push my buttons so well I almost stole the mission car and drove out off the mission. (The only thing keeping me was I was terrified of my mission president being ex director of the FBI). She got off the list because she introduced me to blueberry strussel cake.(Which hardly excuses the fact that she told the mission president I had a "Weapon" ((mace)) and wouldn't let me walk within ten feet of her AND made me want to cry and throw up nearly every day. But, she still got off. I told you. I don't like to not like people. If she can get off...most anyone can get off.


Maybe you understand. Maybe you have a had a list yourself. Then again, most people don't have to repent as much as I do. I just know that sometimes there is this place between the cliffs of pride (the place where you look at people through fun house mirror eyes) and the mountains of charity (the place where peoples true selves shine a bit brighter). Its a shaky old bridge they call hypocrisy. Its that route that you force yourself to walk trying not to see the ravine below you, but you do it when your really trying to get to a place that is better for you both. You walk it with hypocrisy because you don't feel nice yet. You don't feel like saying your sorry. You don't feel like saying nice things, but your tired of being prideful. So you walk across the bridge, lying the whole way. Then you get to the other side and realize they aren't lies anymore. You can be sincere.

I like, everyone else, hate shaky little bridges. But, you walk it and you get to that place of charity and you wonder, "how could I have been so hard hearted?"
And then POOF like magic. Their name disappears off the list. But don't you worry. A new one always finds its way there. And when it does you'll be like me. Radioactive, hypocritical, a little crazy, and strapping on your hiking boots for a little walk across a rickety old bridge.