I have a problem with even numbers.

I noticed the other day that I have another blogger milestone approaching: my 100th post. I know lots of people do something special for this.

But here's the thing. I don't set my microwave cook times for nice, round numbers. Things get zapped for 47 seconds or 1:22 seconds. And my alarm clock? It goes off at times like 7:31 or 7:17. Notice I didn't say that's when I get up. That's just when it goes off.

So the idea of doing something on my 100th post makes my eye all twitchy. That's why I'm going to do it on the 99th post instead. And when I look at my labels, I notice that the most posts are filed under randomness, dumb stuff I do, and writing. If I'm going to wear those labels, then I'm going to wrap myself in them proudly, like some crazed soccer fan in their country's flag somewhere in a country where they regularly trample people at soccer matches.

My 99th post will include a random giveaway of random stuff: a CD of my husband's band Johnny 99 (that was a convenient name. Thank you, husband. And for doing the dishes again), the wedding favor CD we gave out with a list of songs we love, a CD of the Rockterbfest playlist we used at our huge old barbecue a few weeks ago (see? Lots of random songs) and some homemade mint fudge. Random. And maybe a copy of a book I like.

The 99th post will also include video footage of me doing the happy dance because my new friend at my imaginary blog jacked up the comment count on my last post and put me over the twenty-comment-not-my-own barrier that had taunted me.

The 99th post will include a list of 99 random things about ME because it's MY blog. And although even I don't think I'm random enough to generate a list of 99 random things, I'm going to do it anyway.

So look for all that on Sunday.

And if you want to come back later today, I'm updating my blogroll again.

And I'm not doing Friday Favorites today because I have to save all my list-making powers for the 99th post.

Oh, except my favorite Halloween candy to steal from my son's bag (although I don't call it stealing. I call it the mommy tax. He'll figure out that means the same thing when he's older and takes a government class but it works for now) is.....miniature Krackel bars.

Yeah, I know. Random.