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Also in common: How we are anti-baby-growing-up-to-be-cowboys.
I've been seeing a lot of Willie Nelson lately.
Seriously. He's headlining at a venue with a similar name to the one at which I work, so I've seen it on my google searches. He made the paper recently, something along the lines of "aging country legend still works a good show."
Oddly, I made the paper this weekend, too. Something along the lines of "(Rabbit Hole) women weild hammers for a good cause." Should have read, "Lazy puffball employee of the (Rabbit Hole) needs to quit whining about getting mud in her hair at women's build." But, whatever.
So I have that in common with Willie Nelson, I guess. That and a fondness for long, messy braids in a ponytail.
We are almost Rasta.
Listen to this- speaking of Rasta - my mom bought what might be the most offensive shirt EVER for my nephew, and it ended up on Pumpkinhead this weekend. It features a turtle-kid, with dreds and a jamaican-red-striped hat, looking back over it's turtle-shoulder, while mooning the viewer. On it's butt is the word "HOLA!"
Seriously.
And then it says, "Greetings from Belize" or something like that.
Raise your hand if you are offended.
Now stop giggling.
Anyway, so, I'll be returning this shirt to my mother's house. McBasket will probably be allowed to wear it. Pumpkinhead? Not so much.
Know what else I did? I TOTALLY made some bead jewelry, and I think it looks very Chanel. Pink. White. Black. See?
I am awesome.
You know what else I did? I went to my boss's house and felt VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. I don't even want to talk about it. It was weird.
Less than two weeks until my next race!!!!!! BOOOM.
My husband, who is truly my favorite human being on Earth, is not answering his phone, and it is therefore unlikely that he will bring me McDonald's. He must HATE his days off, wherein I expect him to fetch. But I would LOVE a happy meal, so think happy thoughts.
Happy Tuesday, everybody!
Seriously. He's headlining at a venue with a similar name to the one at which I work, so I've seen it on my google searches. He made the paper recently, something along the lines of "aging country legend still works a good show."
Oddly, I made the paper this weekend, too. Something along the lines of "(Rabbit Hole) women weild hammers for a good cause." Should have read, "Lazy puffball employee of the (Rabbit Hole) needs to quit whining about getting mud in her hair at women's build." But, whatever.
So I have that in common with Willie Nelson, I guess. That and a fondness for long, messy braids in a ponytail.
We are almost Rasta.
Listen to this- speaking of Rasta - my mom bought what might be the most offensive shirt EVER for my nephew, and it ended up on Pumpkinhead this weekend. It features a turtle-kid, with dreds and a jamaican-red-striped hat, looking back over it's turtle-shoulder, while mooning the viewer. On it's butt is the word "HOLA!"
Seriously.
And then it says, "Greetings from Belize" or something like that.
Raise your hand if you are offended.
Now stop giggling.
Anyway, so, I'll be returning this shirt to my mother's house. McBasket will probably be allowed to wear it. Pumpkinhead? Not so much.
Know what else I did? I TOTALLY made some bead jewelry, and I think it looks very Chanel. Pink. White. Black. See?
I am awesome.
You know what else I did? I went to my boss's house and felt VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. I don't even want to talk about it. It was weird.
Less than two weeks until my next race!!!!!! BOOOM.
My husband, who is truly my favorite human being on Earth, is not answering his phone, and it is therefore unlikely that he will bring me McDonald's. He must HATE his days off, wherein I expect him to fetch. But I would LOVE a happy meal, so think happy thoughts.
Happy Tuesday, everybody!
Oh, baby.
So my boss has three kids. One of them, the oldest, seems to have her shit together pretty well, works a lot, that sort of thing. The next one - the prettiest, it's ridiculous, actually, how, despite a bajillion piercings and WAAAAAAAY too much eye make up, this girl is so stunning - anyway, that one has a four-year-old who is a cute kid, if perhaps a bit too indulged. The third daughter, the Cindy, if you will, is disarming and sort of sweet, very cute, but also has a terrible temper and occasionally behaves similarly to the four-year-old.
She's about 21. 22. Something like that.
Anyway, this third kid, we'll call her Cindy Brady, she had a baby on Monday.
Now, my boss is very maternal, and she's pretty happy about this sweet little baby (who is super cute, I mean, all girly and fun). Anyway, but she's been calling me every day with news, and I know WAAAAAAAAAAAY too much about her daughter's ability to nurse, how she pushed, how she hemorrhaged a little bit, etc. Lordy, lordy.
But the boss, she's going out of town on Friday, and somehow... SOMEHOW... I've volunteered to go over to her house on Saturday for a little while, bringing Pumpkinhead to play with the four-year-old, and sort of look after the daughter.
SUCKER.
But still, I get to hold a newborn on Saturday, so that's fun. Right?
Tell me I'm right.
Otherwise, I have nothing to report to you people. We are singing a "spiritual" at church, and it amuses me to have a bunch of elderly whiteys trying to sing "Joshua fit de battle of Jericho." It's fun to sing, though. Also, we are doing Handel. Keep it diverse, right?
Beanie took me for a run on Monday, but that story probably deserves its very own post, so I am going to save it for you for another time.
Happy Thursday, peeps.
She's about 21. 22. Something like that.
Anyway, this third kid, we'll call her Cindy Brady, she had a baby on Monday.
Now, my boss is very maternal, and she's pretty happy about this sweet little baby (who is super cute, I mean, all girly and fun). Anyway, but she's been calling me every day with news, and I know WAAAAAAAAAAAY too much about her daughter's ability to nurse, how she pushed, how she hemorrhaged a little bit, etc. Lordy, lordy.
But the boss, she's going out of town on Friday, and somehow... SOMEHOW... I've volunteered to go over to her house on Saturday for a little while, bringing Pumpkinhead to play with the four-year-old, and sort of look after the daughter.
SUCKER.
But still, I get to hold a newborn on Saturday, so that's fun. Right?
Tell me I'm right.
Otherwise, I have nothing to report to you people. We are singing a "spiritual" at church, and it amuses me to have a bunch of elderly whiteys trying to sing "Joshua fit de battle of Jericho." It's fun to sing, though. Also, we are doing Handel. Keep it diverse, right?
Beanie took me for a run on Monday, but that story probably deserves its very own post, so I am going to save it for you for another time.
Happy Thursday, peeps.
I don't know what to call this one, except... goofy-looking.
Remember that one time when I sang the National Anthem at my boss's bawl ? REMEMBER???
Here - finally - is the one professional photographer's shot of me. Which is funny, because I am CERTAIN I saw at least a couple of flashes. The only picture we ended up taking ourselves is here .
Seriously. One.
So let's break it down, shall we?
Here - finally - is the one professional photographer's shot of me. Which is funny, because I am CERTAIN I saw at least a couple of flashes. The only picture we ended up taking ourselves is here .
Seriously. One.
So let's break it down, shall we?
1. Yes, I did close my eyes and look all passionate about my love for the country, why do you ask?
2. Yes, I did wear wwwwwaaaaayyyyyyyy too much eyeshadow.
3. Shut it, my face looks thinner now.
4. Yes, my arms clearly are man-hairy.
5. No, I don't have a claw-hand, and the space between my middle finger and ring finger are actually normal. It's a green sapphire, actually, and thank you. My mom bought that for me.
I'm quite disappointed in the fact that this is the best picture I could get, but it is what it is. Call it my gift to you on a Friday - a pure, unadulterated excuse to point and laugh. Have at it. Let 'er rip.
I hope you all have a fantastic weekend. I'll be all down at "the Chuck" with some little kids, introducing Pumpkinhead to one of my least favorite things in the world, and I believe he will love it. Sigh.
Hope springs from a well not running?
http://www.nola.com/news/gulf-oil-spill/
I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can believe this or not. Like I told my co-worker... xBigGiantTurtleKillingOilMagnatex is like my worst boyfriend in high school... building me up, just to knock me back down again.
I think it's too soon to celebrate, but...
Maybe?
And then what?
Then they start to figure out what to do with the water, the swamps, the reeds and the beaches? The birds and the turtles (if there are any left) and the fish?
I don't think we are going to feel like any of this is "over" any time soon.
Still... hope?
I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can believe this or not. Like I told my co-worker... xBigGiantTurtleKillingOilMagnatex is like my worst boyfriend in high school... building me up, just to knock me back down again.
I think it's too soon to celebrate, but...
Maybe?
And then what?
Then they start to figure out what to do with the water, the swamps, the reeds and the beaches? The birds and the turtles (if there are any left) and the fish?
I don't think we are going to feel like any of this is "over" any time soon.
Still... hope?
I do like that the kid knows his geography.
Yesterday was breakit day. Seriously. BREAKIT. Look it up. It totally does could possibly exist.
In the morning, Husband's sort-of-new-to-him-car, one which he is sort of "testing out" for a few weeks, left him non-moving on the off-ramp of the freeway (or highway. or interstate. whatever you want).
AND THEN the dishwasher threw up a million coffee-grounds on all the dishes, only THERE WERE NO COFFEE GROUNDS IN THERE, and if you cough up coffee grounds, you are dying, so it goes without saying...
AND THEN the dryer stopped being warm.
Oh, alas, the breakage.
None of this has been permanently repaired, mind you, but everything is suffering along, duct-taped or otherwise being required to pretend it works. We'll see.
Today is an improvement (thus far), which is sad, since I'm working, instead of being all at home-y.
Anyway, so on Saturday, my mom took me and my two boys and McBasket to the aquarium, and then we rode the ferry over to Algiers (because Pumpkinhead really wanted to go on a BOAT in a CAR) and then drove back over the bridge to get home. I love that the kid shouts, "This is the MISSISSIPPI WIVER, MAWMAW." It was a fun time, the boys were seriously cute.
I'm boring, I'm sorry.
I sang contemporary hits with the Youth Praise Band yesterday, and we RAWKED. I was all lmL. It was kewl.
In the morning, Husband's sort-of-new-to-him-car, one which he is sort of "testing out" for a few weeks, left him non-moving on the off-ramp of the freeway (or highway. or interstate. whatever you want).
AND THEN the dishwasher threw up a million coffee-grounds on all the dishes, only THERE WERE NO COFFEE GROUNDS IN THERE, and if you cough up coffee grounds, you are dying, so it goes without saying...
AND THEN the dryer stopped being warm.
Oh, alas, the breakage.
None of this has been permanently repaired, mind you, but everything is suffering along, duct-taped or otherwise being required to pretend it works. We'll see.
Today is an improvement (thus far), which is sad, since I'm working, instead of being all at home-y.
Anyway, so on Saturday, my mom took me and my two boys and McBasket to the aquarium, and then we rode the ferry over to Algiers (because Pumpkinhead really wanted to go on a BOAT in a CAR) and then drove back over the bridge to get home. I love that the kid shouts, "This is the MISSISSIPPI WIVER, MAWMAW." It was a fun time, the boys were seriously cute.
I'm boring, I'm sorry.
I sang contemporary hits with the Youth Praise Band yesterday, and we RAWKED. I was all lmL. It was kewl.
Officially no longer a toddler!
Oh, four. You sprang upon us like a cheetah, didn't you.
Last night, the Last Night of Three, he slept without a pacifier (shut up with the judging). He didn't fuss, he didn't cry. He just didn't sleep.
Tired today.
But this morning, he jumped all out of bed, all a-birthdaying, requesting candy for breakfast (of course! it's your birthday! I suggested a cupcake, he chose candy, I just flat-out don't care!), and getting dressed with a big ol' button that says "Today is my 4th Birthday!"
Happiness is a four year old.
(of course that's not true. happiness is a birthday. duh.)
He's the best, truly.
Happy Birthday, you lovely, ridiculous kid. You may say no, but the finger says yes.*
*Last night, at dinner, he and I were arguing. "NO," I said. "Yuh-huh," he said. "NO," I said. "Yuh-huh," he said. After several rounds of this, he raised one pointer finger, andwaggled it up-and-down at me. "The finger says yes," he said. I did NOT tell him the finger can shut it (although I thought that), mostly because I knew that there would be some point today, at work, wherein I would waggle my finger up-and-down and say, "the finger says yes."
Miscellaneous Items, like Lost and Found, only neither lost nor found, so not really like that at all.
Item The First: To the people who are driving your little death trap snow-mobile-looking jet skis immediately across the little land bridge from the water outside my office, bite me. I feel sure you are a douchebag, but this is strictly because I am in an office, wearing clothes, and you are on a jet ski. Not that I like jet skis, mind you... I just want to be on a boat. WITHOUT OIL.
Item The Second: My boss, who is a solid 5 foot 8 or so, announced today that she liked being "fat and happy," in that she now weighs 109 pounds! IMAGINE THE FATNESS.
Item The Third: My baby turns four tomorrow. FOUR. TOMORROW. HE IS OLD AND HUGE. And he makes up songs in the bathtub. Songs that will kill you with the cuteness, about starfishes and moons and water balloons.
Item The Fourth: There is oil in my lake. I don't want to talk about it.
Item The Fifth (that looks to be spelled wrong, but no, I don't think so): About seventy or at least three people have tried to recruit me away from my current job, which is to say, they've come into my work, been blown away with my awesomeness, and then told my boss they want me. HA. Also, my mom suggested I might want to go to work for the evil xOilSpillVikingMonstersx (or whatever it was that I called them last week). Which I will not be doing, in that, though they might like me, I am not so very much into them.
Item The Sixth: I am pretty sure I did not invent the phrase "Katy Perrying", but I did use it multiple times this weekend. Which is not to say that I actually DID any Katy Perrying (of course I didn't), but, it came up in conversation many times.
Item The Seventh: I did use the phrase "something fishbally" in a convo with my boss today. Hunh. I think I was combining "fishy" and "screwbally" and that's what we got. I like it. Fishbally.
Item The Eighth: FOUR. TOMORROW.
That is all.
Item The Second: My boss, who is a solid 5 foot 8 or so, announced today that she liked being "fat and happy," in that she now weighs 109 pounds! IMAGINE THE FATNESS.
Item The Third: My baby turns four tomorrow. FOUR. TOMORROW. HE IS OLD AND HUGE. And he makes up songs in the bathtub. Songs that will kill you with the cuteness, about starfishes and moons and water balloons.
Item The Fourth: There is oil in my lake. I don't want to talk about it.
Item The Fifth (that looks to be spelled wrong, but no, I don't think so): About seventy or at least three people have tried to recruit me away from my current job, which is to say, they've come into my work, been blown away with my awesomeness, and then told my boss they want me. HA. Also, my mom suggested I might want to go to work for the evil xOilSpillVikingMonstersx (or whatever it was that I called them last week). Which I will not be doing, in that, though they might like me, I am not so very much into them.
Item The Sixth: I am pretty sure I did not invent the phrase "Katy Perrying", but I did use it multiple times this weekend. Which is not to say that I actually DID any Katy Perrying (of course I didn't), but, it came up in conversation many times.
Item The Seventh: I did use the phrase "something fishbally" in a convo with my boss today. Hunh. I think I was combining "fishy" and "screwbally" and that's what we got. I like it. Fishbally.
Item The Eighth: FOUR. TOMORROW.
That is all.
"Thank you for calling Live Sea Turtle Incenerator, How May I Help You?"
Oh, internets.
I just heard myself saying, out loud, "We some blue creamer hogs out heyah." Yep. That's the kind of way things are rolling around here.
In addition, as you may recall, I work for a teensy tinsy convention center, wherein a certain not-to-be-named xOilSpillDemonCompanyx is going to be holding some training this weekend, and early next week.
Whenever said xOilSpillDemonCompanyx does this sort of thing, the crazies come out of the woodwork to call me. They want to know how they can help, they want to know if their little pirogue (it's like a canoe) is good enough to skim, they want to know WHEN THEY WILL GET PAID.
I swear to god, I'm about to start answering the phone inappropriately.
In other news, hey, look! It's almost the 4th! Woo. Whatever, man, hard to make myself care about that right now.
I had an unanticipated day off on Wednesday because the daycare called and Pumpkinhead "had a rash." Seriously. But it was fun. I did some cross stitching.
If you follow me on twitter (which you should), you would already know that I'm troubled because I don't think I've ever met anybody in real life whose name is Roger. What's up with THAT?
Annnnnnd, what else?
Oh, did you want me to tell you how I had a big blubbery crying meltdown because THERE IS OIL ON MY BEACH? Well, there is. And I did. Shut up.
It's 11ses at my work, I am the only girl in the building (SERIOUSLY), and I work for an xOilSpillDemonCompanyx, apparently, and I'm pissed off about it.
So I'm going to get some McDonalds. Happy 4th, everybody... hope you are celebrating it on an EAST COAST BEACH so I can be jealous and pissed at your good fortune!
(my, aren't I lovely today?)
Sigh.
I just heard myself saying, out loud, "We some blue creamer hogs out heyah." Yep. That's the kind of way things are rolling around here.
In addition, as you may recall, I work for a teensy tinsy convention center, wherein a certain not-to-be-named xOilSpillDemonCompanyx is going to be holding some training this weekend, and early next week.
Whenever said xOilSpillDemonCompanyx does this sort of thing, the crazies come out of the woodwork to call me. They want to know how they can help, they want to know if their little pirogue (it's like a canoe) is good enough to skim, they want to know WHEN THEY WILL GET PAID.
I swear to god, I'm about to start answering the phone inappropriately.
In other news, hey, look! It's almost the 4th! Woo. Whatever, man, hard to make myself care about that right now.
I had an unanticipated day off on Wednesday because the daycare called and Pumpkinhead "had a rash." Seriously. But it was fun. I did some cross stitching.
If you follow me on twitter (which you should), you would already know that I'm troubled because I don't think I've ever met anybody in real life whose name is Roger. What's up with THAT?
Annnnnnd, what else?
Oh, did you want me to tell you how I had a big blubbery crying meltdown because THERE IS OIL ON MY BEACH? Well, there is. And I did. Shut up.
It's 11ses at my work, I am the only girl in the building (SERIOUSLY), and I work for an xOilSpillDemonCompanyx, apparently, and I'm pissed off about it.
So I'm going to get some McDonalds. Happy 4th, everybody... hope you are celebrating it on an EAST COAST BEACH so I can be jealous and pissed at your good fortune!
(my, aren't I lovely today?)
Sigh.
Real, live email I sent to a former mini-manager of mine at lunchtime today (I know, I was driving, shut it, I was at a light.)
"I just drove past the fat version of Higgins riding
a bicycle in a cut off tshirt. Kicking myself for
not getting a picture. Man boobs hanging out the
armholes."
(This may well be my favorite email of the month.)
Absurdly absurd! I don't know why you say goodbye...
Pull up a chair, boys. This isn't going to be short. I have too much absurdity to tell you about.
First, a little cute. Take your almost-four-year-old to the ice cream shop for the first time in his life. C'mon, I dare you. It's awesome. Seriously. But be prepared to pick for him, because it is just TOO MUCH CHOICES. TOO MUCH.
Anyway, on to the absurd.
I need to preface that my publicly owned workplace has a bored of erectors (close enough). On said bored, there is a laday who is odd and unusual and very old and really quite fantastic. She used to be snippy to me, but I won her over by fixing her computer. Which wasn't broken, but she thought it was, so I reap the benefits.
Anyway, so she's moving out of her house, and her current situation is kind of heartbreaking; husband in Hospice and facilitated living space, and she's got to let go of her life and the home they loved together. She doesn't know where she is going to go, but she decided it's time to go. That being said, she's cleaning out her junk.
So she invited me to come over and go through it.
(only I get these sorts of invitations, mind you.)
So I called Janie on my way over there (not intending to take her junk, rather just wanting to offer some happy company), expressing disbelief over this situation and sharing that, oh - can't believe I forgot this part - that the day before, my boss text-messaged me that we will be having a "girls' night sleepover" at this lady's house one day in July.
.
Really.
Anyway, so Janie and I giggle and long-distance high-five, and she agrees to alert the authorities if I don't come home, and so I go into this lady's house.
Which has an indoor Zen garden. And ovaries in the doors (long story). Whatevs.
So I go there, and then we begin to visit and I let it be known that I knit, and she's all, "oh what do you knit?" and I'm all "oh, socks, mainly" and she bursts into happy rainbow tears and ushers me into her attic (!) and pulls out this haul of sock yarn. In wool. And then she gets a bajillion old-old-old-old knitting patterns and then - AND THEN - she pulls out her knitting needle stash, which is enormous and largely IVORY, and she presses all of this on me.
Which I take.
Because, ohmyGod IVORY.
And then she pours SEVEN cups of chamomile/lemongrass tea down my throat, and I'm like, hey, it's 10:00, I should go home now, and SHE is like, "wait dear, we need to talk about our upcoming evening plans."
? Oh, yes. Of course, the girl's night sleepover.
Nope.
She has PREREGISTERED me for an HOUR with her spiritual advisor/psychic/palm reader for a reading of my very own, and it will cost me ONLY $65!
Aren't I lucky?
(I will not be going to this.)
So soon after that I left, with a bunch of yarn and IVORY needles and patterns for seventies style tam o'shanties and the like.
Hunh.
-----
And THEN it turned into Sunday, and we have a new preacher-lady at church, the vice-preacher, if you want. And it was her first Sunday, and she got to preach. And she used, for her sermon, a quote from Sister Somebody-or-another, "Make Love, Make Believe, Make Hope."
.
Two quotes from her sermon:
"Fathers and Mothers make love in a very special way."
"What corners of your house do you need to make love in?"
Well. We've only lived in our house about 10 months... there's still plenty of time...
Anyway, it was teh awesome.
-----
AND THEN my mom was at my house for supper, and she offered to pay for me to get braces.
I am 35.
I will possibly allow her to do that.
-----
AND THEN this morning, I got into the shower, and only AFTER I was soaking wet did I see this two-inch beetle looking at me from the shower curtain. THAT PART WAS NOT COOL.
Especially when he lost his footing, fell about a foot, and listened to me scream like a little girl.
I love absurdity, except for when it involves beetles.
Beatles would have been fine, of course. Well, maybe not in the shower...
Happy Monday, absurd little world-beasts!
First, a little cute. Take your almost-four-year-old to the ice cream shop for the first time in his life. C'mon, I dare you. It's awesome. Seriously. But be prepared to pick for him, because it is just TOO MUCH CHOICES. TOO MUCH.
Anyway, on to the absurd.
I need to preface that my publicly owned workplace has a bored of erectors (close enough). On said bored, there is a laday who is odd and unusual and very old and really quite fantastic. She used to be snippy to me, but I won her over by fixing her computer. Which wasn't broken, but she thought it was, so I reap the benefits.
Anyway, so she's moving out of her house, and her current situation is kind of heartbreaking; husband in Hospice and facilitated living space, and she's got to let go of her life and the home they loved together. She doesn't know where she is going to go, but she decided it's time to go. That being said, she's cleaning out her junk.
So she invited me to come over and go through it.
(only I get these sorts of invitations, mind you.)
So I called Janie on my way over there (not intending to take her junk, rather just wanting to offer some happy company), expressing disbelief over this situation and sharing that, oh - can't believe I forgot this part - that the day before, my boss text-messaged me that we will be having a "girls' night sleepover" at this lady's house one day in July.
.
Really.
Anyway, so Janie and I giggle and long-distance high-five, and she agrees to alert the authorities if I don't come home, and so I go into this lady's house.
Which has an indoor Zen garden. And ovaries in the doors (long story). Whatevs.
So I go there, and then we begin to visit and I let it be known that I knit, and she's all, "oh what do you knit?" and I'm all "oh, socks, mainly" and she bursts into happy rainbow tears and ushers me into her attic (!) and pulls out this haul of sock yarn. In wool. And then she gets a bajillion old-old-old-old knitting patterns and then - AND THEN - she pulls out her knitting needle stash, which is enormous and largely IVORY, and she presses all of this on me.
Which I take.
Because, ohmyGod IVORY.
And then she pours SEVEN cups of chamomile/lemongrass tea down my throat, and I'm like, hey, it's 10:00, I should go home now, and SHE is like, "wait dear, we need to talk about our upcoming evening plans."
? Oh, yes. Of course, the girl's night sleepover.
Nope.
She has PREREGISTERED me for an HOUR with her spiritual advisor/psychic/palm reader for a reading of my very own, and it will cost me ONLY $65!
Aren't I lucky?
(I will not be going to this.)
So soon after that I left, with a bunch of yarn and IVORY needles and patterns for seventies style tam o'shanties and the like.
Hunh.
-----
And THEN it turned into Sunday, and we have a new preacher-lady at church, the vice-preacher, if you want. And it was her first Sunday, and she got to preach. And she used, for her sermon, a quote from Sister Somebody-or-another, "Make Love, Make Believe, Make Hope."
.
Two quotes from her sermon:
"Fathers and Mothers make love in a very special way."
"What corners of your house do you need to make love in?"
Well. We've only lived in our house about 10 months... there's still plenty of time...
Anyway, it was teh awesome.
-----
AND THEN my mom was at my house for supper, and she offered to pay for me to get braces.
I am 35.
I will possibly allow her to do that.
-----
AND THEN this morning, I got into the shower, and only AFTER I was soaking wet did I see this two-inch beetle looking at me from the shower curtain. THAT PART WAS NOT COOL.
Especially when he lost his footing, fell about a foot, and listened to me scream like a little girl.
I love absurdity, except for when it involves beetles.
Beatles would have been fine, of course. Well, maybe not in the shower...
Happy Monday, absurd little world-beasts!
