What do I do best you ask? Well I'll tell you.

I, Lisa Nicole Best I, daughter of Steven & lover of mashed potatoes, am the absolute best at being consistent. A fine quality, right?

wrong.

For, I... I am the best in the way I consistently seem to create embarrassing, idiotic, poorly planned, sporatic, "oops", irresponsible, well-that-was-dumb, Lis, time-wasting, & completely disorganized situations and moments for myself on a daily basis. All things that I believe would be avoidable if I were... not me. But I am me. I don't know why I am this way, it's not easy being the best...

Do you think it's easy to spot a Diet Coke dangerously close to the side of my dresser, right above a freshly washed pile of clothes, only to spend more time thinking "Nah it'll be fine"...than it would have taken to get up and move it? ...And then to witness that aforementioned beverage finally meet its inevitable fate, soaking my clean linens instantly.

...Linens that didn't belong on the dirty floor in the first place--Which only surfaces yet another consistency I feed. A constant cycle of neglect (with a dash of laziness) to put clean clothes away, and eventually, re-washing everything in sight... And so goes the cycle.

My room is made up of a bed, that is, the majority of the time, halfway taken over by hundreds of miscellaneous scrapbook tools & supplies, a vanity dresser holding rarely-filled drawers & displaying jewelry, make-up and 5-10 1/2 empty pop cans. And about 5-6 piles of clothes making up the carpet in the room. Piles that do in fact have some order to them, but order that would not be at all visible to the untrained eye. Despite my "order" in place, I often find myself digging through these piles to find a certain item, like a pair of pajama pants, for example. & I have, on occasion, looked for ridiculous amounts of time before finding my missing pants in the PAJAMA DRAWER. You begin to fully understand the seriousness of your negligence towards organization when the last place you think to look for an item, is the place it actually belongs.

I am well known to "halfway complete" any task. Like shutting the fridge door, putting the toothpaste cap back on, rinsing the sink of my make-up and hair (I hate shedding), putting that stupid plastic clasp back around the bread, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before they are put in the dishwasher, and the list goes on. I just get focused on the next task or thought that my brain dishes out and any prior focus is immediately abandoned. He is an example of this:

About a month ago I was going to paint my nails in the car on the way to lunch, so I slipped my favorite polish into my purse and hopped in the JEEP. Yeah, you can imagine my nails didn't look that stylin' being painted while bouncin' down the road in a Jeep Wrangler. I managed to get one hand painted by the time we pulled into Taco Bell. (I'm only semi-decent at painting one hand, the other I usually paint, remove paint, re-paint remove again, and finally give up and drive to the nearest nail salon for fakes.) Anyway, as were were walking into TB I was still holding my polish, which was dangerous since I now had a new focus...FOOD and the sudden urgency to pee. I went to carelessly drop my nail polish into what I thought was the opening in my purse, as I bolted for the ladies room... and all in one motion, the polish missed the opening, fell to the ground, and broke in an explosion of hot pink disater. I reacted like I always do in these situations...which are becoming all too frequent. I froze. I looked down at the huge hot pink, fume omiting mess splattered very non-discreetly across the Taco Bell front lobby. I looked up at B, then looked back down, as if it may disappear. But there it was. As pink and blinding as it was at first glance. I was feeling that embarrassing/panic feeling coming over me. The one where I make uneasy jokes to keep myself from bursting into tears. It had only been about a matter of seconds since the initial disaster and a quick glance at the only employee in sight, informed that she somhow had not noticed what had just happened... and I, for a split second, considered just hightailing my clumsy, one hand painted self outta there. And then, though being the worst possible moment to selfishly mourn my fav polish, I thought Shoot, I only painted one hand and now have no polish.. I wonder if the label is legible. Then, someone brought me back to reality...It was B. And I was back to staring at the mess, contemplating the best thing to do. I politely approached a Taco Bell employee and sheepishly explained what happened, which should help to clear up any confusion in regards to the sudden woozy state of customers seated in the restaurants newly named fume-section. The lady didn't seem to speak English well and kept telling me it was fine. To leave and and she'll mop it up later. MOP it up? If you could just mop it up, then I wouldn't have been grounded nearly as much as a kid. I begged her to let me go get some remover and clean up my mess, but after three no's I said "okay". And the worst part? I now had to order and eat! Woe is me.

I hope the detailed examples of my consistent, and 100% self-inflicted stresses have helped to make you grateful that there can only be ONE best in this category. And her name is LOOP. I have, however, made tremendous progress in the past year to be less me-like and more normal-like... And one day I hope to step down and accept a the lesser title of 2nd or 3rd best, or perhaps one day, even average.

Average... Sounds so glamorous.