Pasta and Waffles: This is real, this is me, I'm.... really hoping I didn't scare you away

Ok, everyone. In case that last post caused you to think that I'm possibly not a very strange, scatterbrained nut, then let me tell you.

Let me TELL YOU I SURE AM.

Here is a list of very strange things about me. I admit them freely. Don't judge me.

Today, I was boiling eggs. I forgot about the eggs. Enter the kitchen who-knows-how-long later, look at pot. Wrinkle brow. Tilt head. "Why is there no water in the...." Run to turn off the stove. I cooked the eggs so long that all the water evaporated. I don't know how they'll taste, but we all know I'm eating them anyway. I'm on a boiled eggs kick right now.
Today, I spent twenty minutes or so on Picnik seeing what I would look like with other hair colors by using the highlight action under touch-ups. I'd make a pretty good red-head. Blonde? Notsomuch. Pink? Forget about it.
Earlier this week, I gave directions to a neighbor who needed to know how to get to a certain jewelry store that I had just been near the previous day. Let's just say these directions involved sentences such as "um, ok, cross the street and turn left at the statue of that one guy with the cane" and "turn down the street by the booths. You know, the touristy ones."
I was combing my hair this morning and I screamed. Why? Well let me give you the back story. This summer, somehow, my hair basically turned black. It was so, so, so dark, very much like my brother's. Mom let me buy a subtle highlight kit so now my hair has a little dimension and lightness, which I need because I looked a little goth because my skin is so pale. WELL. I forgot that I highlighted it, so when I was combing, I noticed I have highlight roots, which looks weird. The top part of my head is dark and it fades into these subtle highlights. And the highlights that I buy I can only purchase in Naples at the military base. Which is two hours away.
This morning, I forgot to eat breakfast until noon. Threw off my whole eating schedule. You see, the forgetfulness is a pattern with me. It's a harsh reality, folks.
For two nights in a row I've had a dream that I have the same camera as my brother. It's awesome. But it's really boring if you think about it because all I do is take pictures of pink pansies. PINK. PANSIES.
I have a lot of nightmares. The pink pansies are definitely a step up from Nazi-Burglar-Terrorists.
I'm not a very organized person, but for some reason when it comes to the kitchen while I'm in the middle of baking, I have to clean as I go. It's very odd.
I know three different versions of "Baby, It's Cold Outside," (four including the one that's my own style) and, yes, I have attempted singing both the male and female parts by myself.
My parents have just arrived back in Italy, and there were two nights I spent on my own in between the time Lisa left and today. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe and we have neighbors who know me and who check on me, etc. But I would like to admit, here, that yesterday I was feeling really quite sick and after about twenty minutes of groaning on the couch while watching Elf, I realized I was totally talking to myself.