I would never have a hangover.

Tina would have to be one of those women who can wake up after a blissful night of drinking and feel perfectly fine. The woman probably has ibuprofen coursing through her veins. I bet she can throw back shots of tequila with ease.

I, on the other hand, am the queen of hangovers. I'm not talking about the kind of hangover that results in a nagging headache. I'm talking about what seems to be mild alcohol poisoning and leaves me bedridden and throwing up all the goodness from the night before until 5 pm or so. I'm sure my liver is trying to tell me something, but unfortunately for my liver, I'm in control. He doesn't have legs or arms. Sucks for him. I do think my poor liver needs a name though. Any suggestions? And if you're thinking of naming him Chachi, you're too late. That name is already in commission for my stomach.

I suppose I saw the hangover coming anyway. I sang, I danced with a bald midget-like man, I drank a lot of beer. I karoaked 4 different songs ranging from REO Speedwagon's Keep on Loving You to Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise. What can I say? I'm versatile. I got home around 4 and I swear I crawled into bed that night, right after I cleaned up the water I spilled all over my bedroom floor. Somehow I woke up on my rec-room couch instead.

I would be friends with Amish.

Actually, Tina probably wouldn't be friends with an Amish person. She's a little too spicy and combative. Her personality would clash with the peaceful Amish demeanor. However, if she really wanted to have everything that I want, she would be.

My family has gone to Lancaster County, PA every summer since I was about 4 years old. In the almost twenty years that I've visited this Amish rich community, I've come to get to know quite a bit about the Amish culture. You might call it an obsession even, and I'm proud of it.

Specifically, I remember when I was about sixteen and eating breakfast at a smorgasbord with my family, I saw an Amish boy(about my age) and his father eating across the room. He was a very hunky looking Amish boy. I fell in love with the Amish community at once, and dreamed of the day that we would be married and have a dozen little Amish babies. I would spend all of my time cooking, cleaning, sewing, and popping out babies. It would be a dream come true. If only they used electricity.

Reality hit, and I came to the realization that I am far too high-maintenance to ever live their lifestyle. If I'm too high-maintenance, Tina surely would be. Then again, I do believe she disappeared while I was on the hippo ride at Dutch Wonderland...

P.S. Hunky Amish boy, if you decided to leave the Amish culture during Rumspringa, I'm here, and single.

I would like tomatoes.

I hate tomatoes. This fact is starting to make my life very difficult. I bet Tina likes tomatoes, because that would make her food choices a lot less anxiety ridden than mine.

Are tomatoes taking over the world? They seem to be involved with almost every food dish in existence. I put butter on my spaghetti, I don't put ketchup on hot dogs, and I don't put tomato on my BLTs(but still call them BLTs). If there was a fight between a tomato and any other vegetable(even the formidable eggplant), the tomato would undoubtedly win. That's why I can't escape them, survival of the fittest.

They repulse me. Them and all their by-products. Yes, I'm talking to you ketchup, sauce, and soup. Stop trying to conquer my meals.

Oh, and yes, I called them a vegetable. Nothing that annoying can be considered a fruit in my opinion. Fruits are precious.

So if you like tomatoes good for you. Your life is marginally less complicated than mine.

Who is Tina?

Tina was my imaginary friend growing up. I created her when I was five. I think I just wanted one because my brother had a couple oddly names ones. In my mind she looked like the little girl from the Clifford books except she was possibly Hispanic with darker hair and skin. Why? I have no idea. I guess as a child I wanted to bring some diversity to my(at the time) small, predominantly white rural town.

She was everything that I wasn't, and had everything that I wanted. Tina had a Baby Uh-Oh doll that actually worked, because she was an only child and her brother didn't stick a pencil up it's butt. Tina had hair that was a lot longer than mine, because her Mom didn't give her a bowl cut. She was allowed to have Pixie Stix. Tina was feisty and loud, I was shy and quiet. I had blond hair, she had dark hair. We were complete opposites. Sometimes I wonder what her life would be like today. This is her story.