Here's how you know I'm a rockstar.

Here, kids - this is love.

Well, it's the lead up to love anyhow.  Because true love is not only caring enough about each other's oral hygiene enough to buy new matching toothbrushes, it's also the following:

I have a very sensitive nose - both to vibrations (like when you make the buzzing noise with your lips, or, say, when you're using an electric toothbrush) and to strong flavors (coffee. dark chocolate. mint...think toothpaste, here).  So as I'm happily buzzing along with my first ever electric toothbrush, my nose really starts to itch.  Big time.  Couple that with the intense allergies from the past few days, and I'm just miserable.  Brush, brush, brush, and I start to jump up and down and whine 

"Eye ose id eeely eh-ee!!!" (Translation: my nose is really itchyyyy!)

Brian: "O aack eh."  (So scratch it.)

So I begin to rub my nose - though smooshing and smashing the middle of my face might be a more accurate description.  Remember those allergies I talked about?

"oooh oooh, ow I aab a boog!" (Oh no! Now I have a boog!)

 Right in the middle of my nose.  A booger.  I run off to clean myself up (as toothpaste is now dribbling down my chin as well) and Brian just giggles to himself. He kissed me goodnight later and told me he loved me. And meant it.  I'm a lucky gal.

How else do you know I'm a rockstar? (Other than the fact that I can pull off boogers and toothpaste foam dribble like none other, that is?)

I have passed out and woken up with my pants around my ankles today, and I'm pretty sure I hit my head on the way down. No alcohol or rohypnol involved. And it's not even noon yet.

If I wrote a book, ^this^ type of stuff would fill the pages.  Heaven help us all.