The adorable child in the back dancing to the beat of her own drummer is Danika. Nice work in dance class, little lady!
To watch the video in full screen, click the icon on the bottom right of the video that has four arrows.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
A Quick Observation...
Raisins are not food. What lazy ass S.O.B. let grapes sit around until they were all dry and wrinkly and then said... "Hey! I think I'll eat these!" No. Just no. That's gross.
The man who covered them in chocolate? Fuckin' genius.
That is all. Carry on with your day.
P.S. Raisin is a funny looking word. The more I look at it the more I don't believe that raisin means "raisin."
The man who covered them in chocolate? Fuckin' genius.
That is all. Carry on with your day.
P.S. Raisin is a funny looking word. The more I look at it the more I don't believe that raisin means "raisin."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
"Home" Is Where All Your Old Crap Is
Every so often I make it back home for a visit. I'm all grown up now, all busy and shit, so these visits don't happen too often. You really can't go back too regularly, because as soon as you cross the threshold of your childhood home you're instantly twelve years old. It's true. When I walk into my parents home, I drop my suitcase just inside the door and I forget EVERYTHING. Suddenly I'm a kid again and I call my parents Mommy and Daddy and I want to stay up late and eat ALL of the ice cream and I think every time the phone rings, it must be for meeeee!
Everything at "home" is so familiar. I like that I can walk into the kitchen and find the plates exactly where they were 25 years ago. At home there is always a never ending supply of tea bags and sweet n low, toilet paper and salad. Apparently these are the essentials in life. The joke is that if my Mom, (Mop...that's what I call her) gets down to one case of toilet paper, she has to make an emergency trip to Sam's Club to stock up. The woman has a great fear of running out of toilet paper. I guess she likes a clean ass or something. Weird. If I'm lucky enough to be home for longer than a few days I might get to see my Dad's infamous bill face. This mysterious face only comes out once a month and it's a toss up on whether or not you really want to see it. Entertaining to watch, but ohhhh soooo serious. For the record, the bill face does not speak while it's in use. When I was a kid, before I recognized the bill face, I would ask my Dad, "Whatcha doin', Pop?" And he'd answer without thinking and with a big sigh, "The Bills." Oh. Hmmm...that didn't sound very fun and not something a kid could do, so I'd scamper off to play fashion plates or homemade karaoke until the bill face and the bill drawer went back to their hiding places.
By far, my favorite thing to do at home is to go to my bedroom and look at my old stuff. I know what's there, I left it behind almost 17 years ago. On purpose. There's a comfort in knowing that somewhere in this world there is a place that contains my stuff. Physical memories of the past, a simpler time when all I had to think about was if my science homework was done or how many pennies were in my piggie bank or what weekend the all-night skate would be down at the skating rink. Late at night after my parents have gone to bed, I start digging through my drawers where I come across old rings and necklaces, a random pair of socks, notes written by my best friend in middle school, all folded up in that awesome middle school way. After I've inspected everything in my drawers, I head for the hope chest. I gently open the cedar box, so large it reminds me of a coffin. The smell of cedar fills my nostrils and more memories fill my head. Stacked neatly inside are my senior high school pictures. I can't help but laugh at them...I have that dreamy far away look on my face, bright red lipstick and totally 80's hair. I'm not sure if the seventeen year old girl in that picture knew where her life would lead her, so far it's been a good ride but I think 17 year old Ginger wanted a little more than 35 year old Ginger has now. But for a moment it's fun to flip through the old pictures, pick up the trophies and remember all the fun times I had. I like to keep in touch with the 13 year old me, say hello to her every now and then and remember how much fun it was to blow off the day and lay around at the beach. There needs to be more of that when you grow up!
Last but not least is my closet....ohhhh my closet. It's now filled with half of Mop's wardrobe, but buried deep within I find my poofy red prom dress. Truth be told, it's the best dress I EVER had! In an unusual turn of events, my Dad was the one to take me shopping for that dress and I remember when I walked out of the dressing room he instantly said, "that's the dress!" And it was...bright red, a little poofy, a little scrunchy, but just right for my senior prom. Oh how many memories a prom dress can bring. I spent all day getting ready for prom, getting my hair done with half a can of aqua net, painting my nails and waiting for my date to pick me up. We headed off to my Grandma's house so she could see me all dressed up. She was sick with lung cancer and the visit was the hilight of her night, I loved having her be a part of that day as much as she loved being a part of it. Once we departed Grandma's house, we stopped by McDonald's for dinner where I ate chicken nuggets and answered the many questions from the other patrons about my plans for the night. "PROM, of course," I said...and oh, by the way, my date is a cheap bastard. I'll never forget walking out of the bathroom at the dance with the back of my dress trapped in my pantyhose. MORTIFYING...except I felt the breeze before anyone saw my hiney. Phew! Also left at home was my Army dress uniform. It hasn't fit me for years but I love to look at it, still pressed from the last time I wore it, medals adorn the chest, my name tag still in place. I can't even begin to recount my short time in the Army, but suffice it to say, it was fun, scary, hard, annoying, and invigorating all at once.
As my visit home comes to a close I contemplate packing up all my old stuff and taking it with me. And every time that thought crosses my mind I veto the idea completely. My old things don't hold the same meaning in my house. They belong back "home" where the 6 year old me still lives. The kid with curlers in her hair eating homemade popsicles and petting a cat named Precious.
Everything at "home" is so familiar. I like that I can walk into the kitchen and find the plates exactly where they were 25 years ago. At home there is always a never ending supply of tea bags and sweet n low, toilet paper and salad. Apparently these are the essentials in life. The joke is that if my Mom, (Mop...that's what I call her) gets down to one case of toilet paper, she has to make an emergency trip to Sam's Club to stock up. The woman has a great fear of running out of toilet paper. I guess she likes a clean ass or something. Weird. If I'm lucky enough to be home for longer than a few days I might get to see my Dad's infamous bill face. This mysterious face only comes out once a month and it's a toss up on whether or not you really want to see it. Entertaining to watch, but ohhhh soooo serious. For the record, the bill face does not speak while it's in use. When I was a kid, before I recognized the bill face, I would ask my Dad, "Whatcha doin', Pop?" And he'd answer without thinking and with a big sigh, "The Bills." Oh. Hmmm...that didn't sound very fun and not something a kid could do, so I'd scamper off to play fashion plates or homemade karaoke until the bill face and the bill drawer went back to their hiding places.
By far, my favorite thing to do at home is to go to my bedroom and look at my old stuff. I know what's there, I left it behind almost 17 years ago. On purpose. There's a comfort in knowing that somewhere in this world there is a place that contains my stuff. Physical memories of the past, a simpler time when all I had to think about was if my science homework was done or how many pennies were in my piggie bank or what weekend the all-night skate would be down at the skating rink. Late at night after my parents have gone to bed, I start digging through my drawers where I come across old rings and necklaces, a random pair of socks, notes written by my best friend in middle school, all folded up in that awesome middle school way. After I've inspected everything in my drawers, I head for the hope chest. I gently open the cedar box, so large it reminds me of a coffin. The smell of cedar fills my nostrils and more memories fill my head. Stacked neatly inside are my senior high school pictures. I can't help but laugh at them...I have that dreamy far away look on my face, bright red lipstick and totally 80's hair. I'm not sure if the seventeen year old girl in that picture knew where her life would lead her, so far it's been a good ride but I think 17 year old Ginger wanted a little more than 35 year old Ginger has now. But for a moment it's fun to flip through the old pictures, pick up the trophies and remember all the fun times I had. I like to keep in touch with the 13 year old me, say hello to her every now and then and remember how much fun it was to blow off the day and lay around at the beach. There needs to be more of that when you grow up!
Last but not least is my closet....ohhhh my closet. It's now filled with half of Mop's wardrobe, but buried deep within I find my poofy red prom dress. Truth be told, it's the best dress I EVER had! In an unusual turn of events, my Dad was the one to take me shopping for that dress and I remember when I walked out of the dressing room he instantly said, "that's the dress!" And it was...bright red, a little poofy, a little scrunchy, but just right for my senior prom. Oh how many memories a prom dress can bring. I spent all day getting ready for prom, getting my hair done with half a can of aqua net, painting my nails and waiting for my date to pick me up. We headed off to my Grandma's house so she could see me all dressed up. She was sick with lung cancer and the visit was the hilight of her night, I loved having her be a part of that day as much as she loved being a part of it. Once we departed Grandma's house, we stopped by McDonald's for dinner where I ate chicken nuggets and answered the many questions from the other patrons about my plans for the night. "PROM, of course," I said...and oh, by the way, my date is a cheap bastard. I'll never forget walking out of the bathroom at the dance with the back of my dress trapped in my pantyhose. MORTIFYING...except I felt the breeze before anyone saw my hiney. Phew! Also left at home was my Army dress uniform. It hasn't fit me for years but I love to look at it, still pressed from the last time I wore it, medals adorn the chest, my name tag still in place. I can't even begin to recount my short time in the Army, but suffice it to say, it was fun, scary, hard, annoying, and invigorating all at once.
As my visit home comes to a close I contemplate packing up all my old stuff and taking it with me. And every time that thought crosses my mind I veto the idea completely. My old things don't hold the same meaning in my house. They belong back "home" where the 6 year old me still lives. The kid with curlers in her hair eating homemade popsicles and petting a cat named Precious.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Bridesmaids-A Movie Review
Tuesday morning...I woke up and decided I was going to see a movie tonight. This is unusual for me because I'm generally known as a movie hater, but I felt compelled to see this particular movie because I'd heard it was FUNNY. And...well...I like funny. Funny makes me laugh and feel all happyyyyyyyy inside. Watching movies usually makes me crazy. I'm trapped. For two whole hours. In the same seat. My mind doesn't stop...I think about EVERYTHING...I have to pee. Am I hungry? Should I get my nose pierced? How about a tattoo today, that might be fun. Random sporadic thinking that cannot be contained. In preparation for my big night out I texted 11 friends...yes, ELEVEN friends, to see if anyone wanted to go with me. If you're still reading this story, you can probably guess by now that I went to see Bridesmaids alone. And you might also be thinking...wow...that's kind of pathetic. And I can see why you might be thinking that, but I swear, it was anything but.
I arrived at the theater with 15 minutes to spare. I was excited. It's date night, after all. I take MYSELF out, and the only person I have to worry about is meeeee!!! One ticket for the movie in hand and it's off to the snack bar. Large popcorn and a large drink? Yes, please! I made my way over to the ticket guy and looked at him in desperation as I realized my all important movie ticket was buried somewhere within my wallet, keys, cell phone, popcorn and coke. As it turns out I really DO only have two hands. I sheepishly grinned at the 16 year old movie ticket taker boy and said, "Wow, it's really hard to carry all this by yourself!" He was not amused...so I did what any rational middle aged woman would do...I pointed to the ticket with my nose...and said, "It's there, under the popcorn...no...left hand...if you want it, you're going to have to take it!" And he did and he tossed the stub on top of the popcorn...and then I realized I needed to pee. Well this is going to be inconvenient. I quickly shuffled to the women's bathroom and shoved the door open with my butt. I commandeered the handicapped stall and gently disengaged myself from the popcorn and giant coke while I pulled down the diaper changing table with my knee, all the time praying there wouldn't be any poop smears on it. Score! No poop. And then I...wait...do we need to hear the details of this part? No, probably not. I was in the bathroom. I did bathroom-type things...including a good bit of handwashing. Moving on...
As I entered the theater, I realized that I can sit wherever I want. I'm ONE person. I don't have to make sure there is enough room for my brood. No asking someone else, "Where do you want to sit?" I don't have to automatically go to the front of the theater as I had in years past because today it's just me and I shall sit in the middle! Feeling a little uneasy as I was the first to arrive, I nervously looked around wondering if they'd cancel the movie if I was the only one. They can't do that, can they? Well, I suppose anything can happen, but I'm really looking forward to the next two hours, so bring on the entertainment! As I'm waiting, I decide to make myself comfortable. Loud jingly keys, wallet and cell phone on the floor, popcorn in my lap, drink at my side, feet up and I'm a happy girl.
The previews start and I think I'm home free. And then it happened. To my left, three college girls set up camp, complete with whispering and giggling, but hey, at least they left a fag seat. (You don't know what a fag seat is? Too bad! Figure it out!) I'm happily shoving fistfuls of greasy popcorn in my face when I spot the freaking family reunion walking in mid-way through the previews. It's dark and the three women look directly at me and my prime movie watching spot and make a beeline for me. Really, y'all? Really? There are like 22 people in the entire theater and...yup...you guessed it, Miss "I'm-drenched-in-Cinnabar perfume-and-you-WILL-smell-me-from a-mile-away" perched her perfect little hiney directly next to mine. Ok, I didn't actually SEE her hiney...being dark and all, but she was a petite little thang, wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty flowing blouse, expertly coiffed hair, dangly gold earrings, Tammy Faye Baker makeup and that GOD-AWFUL perfume. Fuckin' kill me now! My nostrils have been invaded. As she sat down, I realized my wallet and phone were directly under her legs, so I quickly reached down and promptly found myself with a handful of foot! I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Oh my gosh, I TOTALLY did not mean to grab your foot!" I uttered this semi-apology while I still had her piggies in my grasp. Finally able to let go, I floundered around on the floor til I could locate my wallet and phone. Ms. Perfect seemed totally unfazed by the foot grabbing incident, so I allowed myself to relax and wait for the feature presentation.
WARNING!!! If you are planning to see Bridesmaids, the movie, you may not want to read further as I plan to spoil the shit out of this movie for you. Ok, not really, but I gotta tell some-freaking-body about the funny parts of this movie. You've been warned...your spoiler alert has been thusly posted.
The movie begins with an awkward bedroom scene...you know the kind...you're sitting next to your MOTHER in the theater wondering why in the hell you brought her to this movie and why didn't you check the online reviews first to find out what naughty little bits might be in this flick that you absolutely do NOT wish to see with your mother! But hey, ya know, I'm not here with my mama, so I am not wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The girl two seats down from me, however, is not so lucky. The 30'ish year old girl is there with her Grandmother and Mother (aforementioned perfume head.) Grandma is loudlyyyyy whispering, "Oh my gosh! This is really NOT necessary! Why do they show such things in movies these days?" Oh good lord, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist, k? It's just sex, it ain't gonna kill ya, and if my calculations are correct, I believe you engaged in "such things" and created the stench to my right some years ago! Hee hee! No...I did not say these things with my out loud voice. But I swear, I should have!
I decide early on that this movie is quite entertaining and I will do my absolute best to NOT make any superfluous trips to the john. Also I will be taking notes, mental notes, of all the life lessons being offered up for a mere five dollars and fifty cents. First life lesson: (Taken from awkward bedroom scene)
Douchey male: "Ohhhh, this is soooo awkward...I really want you to leave, but I don't want to sound like a dick."
Life Lesson #1: Any man that says this IS a dick and is not worth your time. Also, you should call him a dick to his face, it'll make you feel better. I promise.
As the movie progresses I am feeling less and less alone. As you can guess, a movie entitled, "Bridesmaids," attracts a predominantly female audience and tonight the theater is packed full of us lady-types. And ONE man. We're having a great time together, almost laughing on cue all together in a happy little chorus of lady laughs. I am thoroughly enjoying my "alone" time with these 20 ladies. Even stinky McGee's perfume has stopped annoying me. I like the female bonding. Yes I do.
The next scene shows the main character, Annie, hanging out at a coffee shop with her best friend, the bride. They are discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I can't properly describe how damn funny it is when Annie contorts her body and closes one eye to do an impression of a penis. Nothing short of hilarious. She even uses her arms to look like the...um...well...you know...there are two of them...whatever, you get it! They catch up like only best friends can do, reading each other's minds with just a look.
Life Lesson #2: You need a best friend that you can laugh about penises with. It's a requirement for sanity.
As the movie progresses it becomes more apparent that Annie is a little lost and trying to find her way. She's a lonely single gal, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, and I can totally identify with "the cupcake scene." Poor thing goes home and spends a good amount of time elaborately preparing a beautiful cupcake. She makes just enough batter for the single cupcake, bakes it, frosts it, decorates it and places it on the counter. All that work for one cupcake that no one else will see. She stares at the cupcake for a while looking forlorn and then she does what any sensible woman should do. She picked the fuckin' thing up and shoved it in her face looking almost victorious and defeated all at the same time.
Life Lesson #3: Eat the cupcake. EAT THE FUCKING CUPCAKE!
Picking out the bridesmaids dresses...this obligatory task can be a great bonding time for the girls or it can be a disastrous miserable nightmare. In this case...total nightmare. The girls ate some baaaaaaad meat and the results in this all white dress shop were not pretty. Everyone dashes off to the bathroom...and...well...diarrhea is just funny. The plus sized bridesmaid, Megan, hops up onto the sink, hikes up her pretty pink dress and goes to town. That sink will never be the same. When the food poisoning finally hits the bride, she starts to run across the street to find an empty bathroom and makes it about halfway before she starts sinking to the ground yelling, "Oh God, it's happening...it's happening...I'm shitting in the street. I'm shitting IN.THE.STREET." Annie is looking out the door of the bridal shop at her street shitting friend with a really defeated look on her face mumbling, "You're really doing it, you're really shitting in the street."
Life Lesson #4: If the toilet is occupied, the sink is a good second choice. Followed closely by the middle of the street.
Ok...here's the deal. I can't write anymore...my fingers are bleeding, man! You HAVE to see this movie. That's it, there's really no other choice. It'll make you laugh. It'll make you cry. It'll make you want to eat some freaking wedding cake. Also...there's a really cute cop in this movie and he has a great accent...which brings me to my final life lesson.
Life Lesson #5: Guys with accents are hot. They can't even help it.
So there ya go, that's my big Tuesday night out. I think I was a pretty good date. I bought the popcorn, I paid for the movie, heck, I even gave myself a goodnight kiss. I do believe I'll be calling myself for a second date.
I arrived at the theater with 15 minutes to spare. I was excited. It's date night, after all. I take MYSELF out, and the only person I have to worry about is meeeee!!! One ticket for the movie in hand and it's off to the snack bar. Large popcorn and a large drink? Yes, please! I made my way over to the ticket guy and looked at him in desperation as I realized my all important movie ticket was buried somewhere within my wallet, keys, cell phone, popcorn and coke. As it turns out I really DO only have two hands. I sheepishly grinned at the 16 year old movie ticket taker boy and said, "Wow, it's really hard to carry all this by yourself!" He was not amused...so I did what any rational middle aged woman would do...I pointed to the ticket with my nose...and said, "It's there, under the popcorn...no...left hand...if you want it, you're going to have to take it!" And he did and he tossed the stub on top of the popcorn...and then I realized I needed to pee. Well this is going to be inconvenient. I quickly shuffled to the women's bathroom and shoved the door open with my butt. I commandeered the handicapped stall and gently disengaged myself from the popcorn and giant coke while I pulled down the diaper changing table with my knee, all the time praying there wouldn't be any poop smears on it. Score! No poop. And then I...wait...do we need to hear the details of this part? No, probably not. I was in the bathroom. I did bathroom-type things...including a good bit of handwashing. Moving on...
As I entered the theater, I realized that I can sit wherever I want. I'm ONE person. I don't have to make sure there is enough room for my brood. No asking someone else, "Where do you want to sit?" I don't have to automatically go to the front of the theater as I had in years past because today it's just me and I shall sit in the middle! Feeling a little uneasy as I was the first to arrive, I nervously looked around wondering if they'd cancel the movie if I was the only one. They can't do that, can they? Well, I suppose anything can happen, but I'm really looking forward to the next two hours, so bring on the entertainment! As I'm waiting, I decide to make myself comfortable. Loud jingly keys, wallet and cell phone on the floor, popcorn in my lap, drink at my side, feet up and I'm a happy girl.
The previews start and I think I'm home free. And then it happened. To my left, three college girls set up camp, complete with whispering and giggling, but hey, at least they left a fag seat. (You don't know what a fag seat is? Too bad! Figure it out!) I'm happily shoving fistfuls of greasy popcorn in my face when I spot the freaking family reunion walking in mid-way through the previews. It's dark and the three women look directly at me and my prime movie watching spot and make a beeline for me. Really, y'all? Really? There are like 22 people in the entire theater and...yup...you guessed it, Miss "I'm-drenched-in-Cinnabar perfume-and-you-WILL-smell-me-from a-mile-away" perched her perfect little hiney directly next to mine. Ok, I didn't actually SEE her hiney...being dark and all, but she was a petite little thang, wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty flowing blouse, expertly coiffed hair, dangly gold earrings, Tammy Faye Baker makeup and that GOD-AWFUL perfume. Fuckin' kill me now! My nostrils have been invaded. As she sat down, I realized my wallet and phone were directly under her legs, so I quickly reached down and promptly found myself with a handful of foot! I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Oh my gosh, I TOTALLY did not mean to grab your foot!" I uttered this semi-apology while I still had her piggies in my grasp. Finally able to let go, I floundered around on the floor til I could locate my wallet and phone. Ms. Perfect seemed totally unfazed by the foot grabbing incident, so I allowed myself to relax and wait for the feature presentation.
WARNING!!! If you are planning to see Bridesmaids, the movie, you may not want to read further as I plan to spoil the shit out of this movie for you. Ok, not really, but I gotta tell some-freaking-body about the funny parts of this movie. You've been warned...your spoiler alert has been thusly posted.
The movie begins with an awkward bedroom scene...you know the kind...you're sitting next to your MOTHER in the theater wondering why in the hell you brought her to this movie and why didn't you check the online reviews first to find out what naughty little bits might be in this flick that you absolutely do NOT wish to see with your mother! But hey, ya know, I'm not here with my mama, so I am not wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The girl two seats down from me, however, is not so lucky. The 30'ish year old girl is there with her Grandmother and Mother (aforementioned perfume head.) Grandma is loudlyyyyy whispering, "Oh my gosh! This is really NOT necessary! Why do they show such things in movies these days?" Oh good lord, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist, k? It's just sex, it ain't gonna kill ya, and if my calculations are correct, I believe you engaged in "such things" and created the stench to my right some years ago! Hee hee! No...I did not say these things with my out loud voice. But I swear, I should have!
I decide early on that this movie is quite entertaining and I will do my absolute best to NOT make any superfluous trips to the john. Also I will be taking notes, mental notes, of all the life lessons being offered up for a mere five dollars and fifty cents. First life lesson: (Taken from awkward bedroom scene)
Douchey male: "Ohhhh, this is soooo awkward...I really want you to leave, but I don't want to sound like a dick."
Life Lesson #1: Any man that says this IS a dick and is not worth your time. Also, you should call him a dick to his face, it'll make you feel better. I promise.
As the movie progresses I am feeling less and less alone. As you can guess, a movie entitled, "Bridesmaids," attracts a predominantly female audience and tonight the theater is packed full of us lady-types. And ONE man. We're having a great time together, almost laughing on cue all together in a happy little chorus of lady laughs. I am thoroughly enjoying my "alone" time with these 20 ladies. Even stinky McGee's perfume has stopped annoying me. I like the female bonding. Yes I do.
The next scene shows the main character, Annie, hanging out at a coffee shop with her best friend, the bride. They are discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I can't properly describe how damn funny it is when Annie contorts her body and closes one eye to do an impression of a penis. Nothing short of hilarious. She even uses her arms to look like the...um...well...you know...there are two of them...whatever, you get it! They catch up like only best friends can do, reading each other's minds with just a look.
Life Lesson #2: You need a best friend that you can laugh about penises with. It's a requirement for sanity.
As the movie progresses it becomes more apparent that Annie is a little lost and trying to find her way. She's a lonely single gal, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, and I can totally identify with "the cupcake scene." Poor thing goes home and spends a good amount of time elaborately preparing a beautiful cupcake. She makes just enough batter for the single cupcake, bakes it, frosts it, decorates it and places it on the counter. All that work for one cupcake that no one else will see. She stares at the cupcake for a while looking forlorn and then she does what any sensible woman should do. She picked the fuckin' thing up and shoved it in her face looking almost victorious and defeated all at the same time.
Life Lesson #3: Eat the cupcake. EAT THE FUCKING CUPCAKE!
Picking out the bridesmaids dresses...this obligatory task can be a great bonding time for the girls or it can be a disastrous miserable nightmare. In this case...total nightmare. The girls ate some baaaaaaad meat and the results in this all white dress shop were not pretty. Everyone dashes off to the bathroom...and...well...diarrhea is just funny. The plus sized bridesmaid, Megan, hops up onto the sink, hikes up her pretty pink dress and goes to town. That sink will never be the same. When the food poisoning finally hits the bride, she starts to run across the street to find an empty bathroom and makes it about halfway before she starts sinking to the ground yelling, "Oh God, it's happening...it's happening...I'm shitting in the street. I'm shitting IN.THE.STREET." Annie is looking out the door of the bridal shop at her street shitting friend with a really defeated look on her face mumbling, "You're really doing it, you're really shitting in the street."
Life Lesson #4: If the toilet is occupied, the sink is a good second choice. Followed closely by the middle of the street.
Ok...here's the deal. I can't write anymore...my fingers are bleeding, man! You HAVE to see this movie. That's it, there's really no other choice. It'll make you laugh. It'll make you cry. It'll make you want to eat some freaking wedding cake. Also...there's a really cute cop in this movie and he has a great accent...which brings me to my final life lesson.
Life Lesson #5: Guys with accents are hot. They can't even help it.
So there ya go, that's my big Tuesday night out. I think I was a pretty good date. I bought the popcorn, I paid for the movie, heck, I even gave myself a goodnight kiss. I do believe I'll be calling myself for a second date.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
I Forgot To Sleep
I was standing at the kitchen window this morning downing my daily dose of allergy meds when I noticed out of the corner of my eye a small bird pecking at the ground. Having a little time to kill I thought I'd take a few minutes and soak in some nature, kinda like national geographic, except suburban style. A few minutes into watching the bird, I realized he (well, I assume it was a he) wasn't pecking at all, he was pulling a worm out of the ground! At first I thought it was really cool because here I am up at 5:30 am watching an EARLY bird catch the worm! This has to mean something, maybe a sure sign of luck for me...today will be a GOOD day because I have seen the early bird and it is indeed catching its worm. Except...it was disgusting. The bird was yanking this fat juicy worm out of the ground with its creepy pointy beak while the worm would do its best to wiggle itself back into the ground. And so it went, over and over...yank, wiggle, yank, wiggle, yank, wiggle, until finally YANK! And the bird won...the worm was bloody and wounded and would not be returning to its little dirt tunnel. I felt nauseous and decided...maybe today won't be so good, it surely wasn't for that poor worm! Stupid selfish pig headed bird!
And on the morning went...I tossed a load of laundry in and set about getting the kids up for school. One by one they dragged themselves out of bed only to plop down on the couch to watch tv. Breakfast made and dishes done, I popped in to check on the laundry. And that's when I smelled it. Burning. Something was burning! But what??? "Oh my gosh," I thought, "It's true! Lint CAN catch on fire!" This CANNOT be happening...I threw open the dryer door and massive amounts of pale green lint came billowing out, the clothes that had been drying for an hour were still completely wet. I pulled the lint trap out and scads of lint fell onto the floor, nothing was burning but the scent of smoldering lint wafted into the air. I'd caught it in time, no fire today. I foresee a fun new dryer-taking-apart project in my near future, but not now. Now we have to drive to schoooool!!!
As we rush out the door, I flip the light switch only to hear a quick *pop* and the garage goes dark. Great. ONE.MORE.THING.TO.DO. Fine! We fumble our way to the van and I open the garage door and notice it's still raining...oh and look...there are my trash cans sitting on the curb, lids off, collecting copious amounts of rain water. Add that to the list. Mental list. Things I gotta do. Must remember the things to do...wet laundry, suck lint, fix light bulb, dump water out of trash cans, bring them inside. Ok, I can handle all that. Yes. As long as I don't forget. Now then...kids all buckled in their seats, time for the drive to school. Kid #1, Miss teenager that she is, rushes into the building to make it to her first class and I'm not more than a mile away when I get a phone call from the office that I need to come on back and bring the kid her cell phone. Wonderful. Fine. Drop #2 & #3 off and rush home to retrieve said phone and hurry back to school for a speedy delivery. It's not even 9am yet and I'm already tired. At some point today, sleep must happen because work will happen tonight, whether sleep comes or not.
I finally get home and breathe a sigh of relief because I'm all alone in the house and it's time to rest. I like resting. It's my favorite...next to boiled peanuts, baths and swimming. I have a date with my laptop, a bowl of ice cream and a dining room table. It's internet time, time to relax before nappy time. But first I make
a much needed pit stop in the bathroom. I have to pee like every hour. What is THAT about? Is it because I have 3 kids and they stomped all over my bladder and now it's all misshapen or something? It's annoying! Anyway, so there I was...minding my own business...DOING my business, just number ONE, y'all, gosh...when I dropped my phone...yeah, yeah, I was playing on my phone on the toilet, whatevs. Anyway, I lean over to pick up the phone and I hear a loud CRACK. FUCK. I just cracked the fucking toilet seat. I gingerly (haha, see what I did there?) sat my hiney back down so I could finish my biznissssss. This is an important lesson I need to share. You see, apparently when you SIT on a cracked toilet seat, said seat expands, or the crack opens up a little, if you will, like a tiny shark with teeny little razor-y shark-y teeth. (Rocky used to call sharks "sharper fish" when she was a little kid...cute little childhood memory for ya.) ANYWAY...when you stand up, the toilet seat teeth grab your ass like an angry little bitch shark and hang on for dear life. Shit! That really hurt! I guess that's one more thing on the old list...but later. Pretty much everything can wait, because as I mentioned before, I.NEED.TO.SLEEP!
Finally I have a few minutes to sit down at my beloved laptop. I might read the news, chat with a few friends and generally just waste time until the sleeping pills kick in. This is a grand plan and I LIKE it. Wasting time is ALSO my favorite. While I'm sitting in the chair I notice that it's wobbling really bad. This could be an emergency. What if...one day I sit down in the wobbly ass chair and I break my back or my leg or something. That would hurt. Also, maybe I couldn't walk anymore. I would not like that. No. No, I wouldn't. I decide this is definitely an emergency and needs fixed straight away. I skip out to the garage (yes, I really did skip...what can I say, I was in a good mood...skipping happens, don't fight it, y'all.) and get a screwdriver. I know how to fix wobbly chair! I am on top of this one! Wait, it wasn't a screwdriver at all, it was that other kind. The bendy metal thing that comes in like...packs of 10 in different sizes. It was one of those. Yeah. That's what I fixed the chair with. Anyway, look, long story short...I fixed the freaking chair, ok. I like FINISHED fixing something and it's all sturdy and shit now.
I'm starting to get a little annoyed now because I was supposed to putz around on my stupid computer and then fall asleep! This is the plan and I only have about 7 more hours to make it happen. I decide to run out to the mailbox and check the mail. This turns out to be a bad idea. Do you want to know why? I'll tell you why. Fuck the IRS. Ok? Fuck them. They have my money and I want it back. Does anybody know a guy with a big huge scary pipe who can go rough up the IRS and tell them to gimme my MONEYYYYYYY??? No? Fine. I'll open the stupid letter those rat bastards sent me and fill out another 15 forms so I can wait yet another 2 months for my refund. Whatever. Oh...and by the way, the mail was soaked because it was raining. And the special envelope I have to mail my forms back in? Yeah, it's TOTALLY glued shut! How am I gonna find an envelope with that dumb ass cellophane window in just the right place to display the address? Huh? Tell me that! Fuck it. I'll just rip the damn thing open, stuff my shit in there and tape it back together. It won't look una-bomber'ish at all. Right. Fuck the IRS. Did I already say that? Tough. Fuck 'em.
It's around noon time now and I could totally get 3 and a half hours sleep before I have to pick up the kids. I could. If I got into bed. And it's about this time I'm wondering how mother flippin' effective those sleeping pills are. Not very much, by golly, because I am still conscious. I'm thinking that since I can't sleep, it'll be a real nice time to clean out the garage. Who doesn't love a good old fashioned garage cleanin? Hmmm??? I suppose I'll tackle this project alone, you know, since I forgot to have adult companionship of any kind around. Bollocks! I have like...eight things. Not much at all. When you move and start over, somehow, there is a severe lack of stuff. That is ok. I do not like stuff, but the stuff that I possess shall be lined up in pretty lines, boxes stacked neatly, everything will be just so, because THIS IS MY GODDAMN HOUSE AND I SAID SO! Ahem...Sorry, anyway, the garage did in fact get cleaned, by my hands. I did it. Done, complete, finito. And, oh joy! I found my wedding ring. Isn't that exciting? Anyone want it? No, for reals...cuz, I could mayyyybe get 12 dollars for it, but maybe it needs a good home. Or maybe it needs to be drowned in the middle of Lake Loveland. Maybe it does. And Maybe I can make that happen. I've murdered a wedding ring before, don't make me do it again, fuckers. I can murder the shit out of a ring.
I gotta be honest, I'm tired of writing this damn post. I was tired the day I did all this crap, but reliving it? MORE tired! All I wanted to do was convey the fact that EVERYTHING gets in the way of me sleeping for work. So I do not sleep. To finish up, I shall write the rest of the things I did on this day in an orderly list so that you understand how I really didn't do a damn thing but couldn't get a moment's peace all day long...
*Went to visit friend and new baby at hospital
*Made mad rush to Wal Mart before visiting friend in hospital for totally awesome welcome baby gift
*While at hospital washed my hands (accidentally) in one of those mother fucking bunn hot water spouts. Hands then throbbed like a cartoon character for the rest of day. Red, throbby ouchiness all.effin.day.
*Picked kids up from school
*Tried to make dinner
*Oldest daughter cried that the poop our dog was eating was not poop at all, but a dead bird. Poison worm? Maybeeee...
*Pick up dead bird and give it a god damn funeral in the trash can.
*Son kicked ball over house into neighbors yard. Neighbor's dog finds ball and absconds into the house with it...then teases us for the next hour going in and out of the doggie door saying "ha ha ha, I have your ball, you dumb ass kid" each time.
*Our dog rips my son's shoe off his foot and runs away with it. After much chasing and yelling, mom rescues shoe. And tells dog to quit bein an asshole.
*Dinner, 2nd attempt. Find mold on hot dogs. Go to McDonald's.
*Eat, clean up mess.
*Take dryer apart, suck lint. Lots of it.
*Make 2 kids take baths.
*Take shower. It's cold. Kids took all the hot water. Try not to whine. Whine anyway.
*Get kids to their dad's so mom can go to work. It's 8 pm. How did this happen? It was just 8 am 5 minutes ago.
*Call co-worker and say...I forgot to sleep...can I come in at midnight? Co-worker loves me and says yes. Yay!
*Sleep. 3 hours. Glorious.
*Drive to work...fast...get pulled over by cop who from a different police department. Cop asks the right questions so Ginger does not get a ticket. (Where are you going so fast? Work! Where do you work? Police dispatch!!! Yessssss!!!) Sergeant from MY police department backs up cop who pulled me over. Now I am embarrassed. And Sergeant thinks it's funny. So funny. Cannot live this one down. Vow to stop speeding...but then remember how much fun it is, so I say fuck it and drive fast anyway.
*Get to work, finally. Bored to tears.
*Get home at 7am, remember the stupid dog didn't want to come inside last night. I hope she learned her lesson. She got sprayed by a skunk. And now I'm suffering for it.
Good fucking night.
And on the morning went...I tossed a load of laundry in and set about getting the kids up for school. One by one they dragged themselves out of bed only to plop down on the couch to watch tv. Breakfast made and dishes done, I popped in to check on the laundry. And that's when I smelled it. Burning. Something was burning! But what??? "Oh my gosh," I thought, "It's true! Lint CAN catch on fire!" This CANNOT be happening...I threw open the dryer door and massive amounts of pale green lint came billowing out, the clothes that had been drying for an hour were still completely wet. I pulled the lint trap out and scads of lint fell onto the floor, nothing was burning but the scent of smoldering lint wafted into the air. I'd caught it in time, no fire today. I foresee a fun new dryer-taking-apart project in my near future, but not now. Now we have to drive to schoooool!!!
As we rush out the door, I flip the light switch only to hear a quick *pop* and the garage goes dark. Great. ONE.MORE.THING.TO.DO. Fine! We fumble our way to the van and I open the garage door and notice it's still raining...oh and look...there are my trash cans sitting on the curb, lids off, collecting copious amounts of rain water. Add that to the list. Mental list. Things I gotta do. Must remember the things to do...wet laundry, suck lint, fix light bulb, dump water out of trash cans, bring them inside. Ok, I can handle all that. Yes. As long as I don't forget. Now then...kids all buckled in their seats, time for the drive to school. Kid #1, Miss teenager that she is, rushes into the building to make it to her first class and I'm not more than a mile away when I get a phone call from the office that I need to come on back and bring the kid her cell phone. Wonderful. Fine. Drop #2 & #3 off and rush home to retrieve said phone and hurry back to school for a speedy delivery. It's not even 9am yet and I'm already tired. At some point today, sleep must happen because work will happen tonight, whether sleep comes or not.
I finally get home and breathe a sigh of relief because I'm all alone in the house and it's time to rest. I like resting. It's my favorite...next to boiled peanuts, baths and swimming. I have a date with my laptop, a bowl of ice cream and a dining room table. It's internet time, time to relax before nappy time. But first I make
a much needed pit stop in the bathroom. I have to pee like every hour. What is THAT about? Is it because I have 3 kids and they stomped all over my bladder and now it's all misshapen or something? It's annoying! Anyway, so there I was...minding my own business...DOING my business, just number ONE, y'all, gosh...when I dropped my phone...yeah, yeah, I was playing on my phone on the toilet, whatevs. Anyway, I lean over to pick up the phone and I hear a loud CRACK. FUCK. I just cracked the fucking toilet seat. I gingerly (haha, see what I did there?) sat my hiney back down so I could finish my biznissssss. This is an important lesson I need to share. You see, apparently when you SIT on a cracked toilet seat, said seat expands, or the crack opens up a little, if you will, like a tiny shark with teeny little razor-y shark-y teeth. (Rocky used to call sharks "sharper fish" when she was a little kid...cute little childhood memory for ya.) ANYWAY...when you stand up, the toilet seat teeth grab your ass like an angry little bitch shark and hang on for dear life. Shit! That really hurt! I guess that's one more thing on the old list...but later. Pretty much everything can wait, because as I mentioned before, I.NEED.TO.SLEEP!
Finally I have a few minutes to sit down at my beloved laptop. I might read the news, chat with a few friends and generally just waste time until the sleeping pills kick in. This is a grand plan and I LIKE it. Wasting time is ALSO my favorite. While I'm sitting in the chair I notice that it's wobbling really bad. This could be an emergency. What if...one day I sit down in the wobbly ass chair and I break my back or my leg or something. That would hurt. Also, maybe I couldn't walk anymore. I would not like that. No. No, I wouldn't. I decide this is definitely an emergency and needs fixed straight away. I skip out to the garage (yes, I really did skip...what can I say, I was in a good mood...skipping happens, don't fight it, y'all.) and get a screwdriver. I know how to fix wobbly chair! I am on top of this one! Wait, it wasn't a screwdriver at all, it was that other kind. The bendy metal thing that comes in like...packs of 10 in different sizes. It was one of those. Yeah. That's what I fixed the chair with. Anyway, look, long story short...I fixed the freaking chair, ok. I like FINISHED fixing something and it's all sturdy and shit now.
I'm starting to get a little annoyed now because I was supposed to putz around on my stupid computer and then fall asleep! This is the plan and I only have about 7 more hours to make it happen. I decide to run out to the mailbox and check the mail. This turns out to be a bad idea. Do you want to know why? I'll tell you why. Fuck the IRS. Ok? Fuck them. They have my money and I want it back. Does anybody know a guy with a big huge scary pipe who can go rough up the IRS and tell them to gimme my MONEYYYYYYY??? No? Fine. I'll open the stupid letter those rat bastards sent me and fill out another 15 forms so I can wait yet another 2 months for my refund. Whatever. Oh...and by the way, the mail was soaked because it was raining. And the special envelope I have to mail my forms back in? Yeah, it's TOTALLY glued shut! How am I gonna find an envelope with that dumb ass cellophane window in just the right place to display the address? Huh? Tell me that! Fuck it. I'll just rip the damn thing open, stuff my shit in there and tape it back together. It won't look una-bomber'ish at all. Right. Fuck the IRS. Did I already say that? Tough. Fuck 'em.
It's around noon time now and I could totally get 3 and a half hours sleep before I have to pick up the kids. I could. If I got into bed. And it's about this time I'm wondering how mother flippin' effective those sleeping pills are. Not very much, by golly, because I am still conscious. I'm thinking that since I can't sleep, it'll be a real nice time to clean out the garage. Who doesn't love a good old fashioned garage cleanin? Hmmm??? I suppose I'll tackle this project alone, you know, since I forgot to have adult companionship of any kind around. Bollocks! I have like...eight things. Not much at all. When you move and start over, somehow, there is a severe lack of stuff. That is ok. I do not like stuff, but the stuff that I possess shall be lined up in pretty lines, boxes stacked neatly, everything will be just so, because THIS IS MY GODDAMN HOUSE AND I SAID SO! Ahem...Sorry, anyway, the garage did in fact get cleaned, by my hands. I did it. Done, complete, finito. And, oh joy! I found my wedding ring. Isn't that exciting? Anyone want it? No, for reals...cuz, I could mayyyybe get 12 dollars for it, but maybe it needs a good home. Or maybe it needs to be drowned in the middle of Lake Loveland. Maybe it does. And Maybe I can make that happen. I've murdered a wedding ring before, don't make me do it again, fuckers. I can murder the shit out of a ring.
I gotta be honest, I'm tired of writing this damn post. I was tired the day I did all this crap, but reliving it? MORE tired! All I wanted to do was convey the fact that EVERYTHING gets in the way of me sleeping for work. So I do not sleep. To finish up, I shall write the rest of the things I did on this day in an orderly list so that you understand how I really didn't do a damn thing but couldn't get a moment's peace all day long...
*Went to visit friend and new baby at hospital
*Made mad rush to Wal Mart before visiting friend in hospital for totally awesome welcome baby gift
*While at hospital washed my hands (accidentally) in one of those mother fucking bunn hot water spouts. Hands then throbbed like a cartoon character for the rest of day. Red, throbby ouchiness all.effin.day.
*Picked kids up from school
*Tried to make dinner
*Oldest daughter cried that the poop our dog was eating was not poop at all, but a dead bird. Poison worm? Maybeeee...
*Pick up dead bird and give it a god damn funeral in the trash can.
*Son kicked ball over house into neighbors yard. Neighbor's dog finds ball and absconds into the house with it...then teases us for the next hour going in and out of the doggie door saying "ha ha ha, I have your ball, you dumb ass kid" each time.
*Our dog rips my son's shoe off his foot and runs away with it. After much chasing and yelling, mom rescues shoe. And tells dog to quit bein an asshole.
*Dinner, 2nd attempt. Find mold on hot dogs. Go to McDonald's.
*Eat, clean up mess.
*Take dryer apart, suck lint. Lots of it.
*Make 2 kids take baths.
*Take shower. It's cold. Kids took all the hot water. Try not to whine. Whine anyway.
*Get kids to their dad's so mom can go to work. It's 8 pm. How did this happen? It was just 8 am 5 minutes ago.
*Call co-worker and say...I forgot to sleep...can I come in at midnight? Co-worker loves me and says yes. Yay!
*Sleep. 3 hours. Glorious.
*Drive to work...fast...get pulled over by cop who from a different police department. Cop asks the right questions so Ginger does not get a ticket. (Where are you going so fast? Work! Where do you work? Police dispatch!!! Yessssss!!!) Sergeant from MY police department backs up cop who pulled me over. Now I am embarrassed. And Sergeant thinks it's funny. So funny. Cannot live this one down. Vow to stop speeding...but then remember how much fun it is, so I say fuck it and drive fast anyway.
*Get to work, finally. Bored to tears.
*Get home at 7am, remember the stupid dog didn't want to come inside last night. I hope she learned her lesson. She got sprayed by a skunk. And now I'm suffering for it.
Good fucking night.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Laughter Is The Best Medicine
Laughing is my favorite. I think I like it more than cake and ice cream and roly polies and swimming and telling a-holes to f-off and having a good hair day. I like laughing better than ALLLLL these things!
So sometimes, when I find myself sitting around thinking too much about life and what it all means, I think...shit! I have to get up and get out, do something big! I have to liiiive!!! NO MORE THINKING!
Maybe I'll bungee jump or sky dive or go ice skating or eat sushi. I could enter a break dancing contest or take a tour of the White House or run a marathon! I could do ALLLL thisssss to clear my head orrrrr....I could watch funny videos on YOU TUBE!!!
And that's exactly what I do. I usually start off slow, with something that will elicit a giggle or two to get the ball rolling...
This video is a comedian talking about being broke. Watch and giggle. THAT'S AN ORDER!
Next I'll watch something cute...you know, something adorable that makes you go awwww!!!
Equally as cute...
And really, once I start watching funny animal videos, it's kind of hard to stop, but I have to limit myself because there are MORE hilarious videos that I NEED to see like nowwww...Such as my ALL TIME FAVORITE, which incidentally is the reason I'm going to hell. (If you laugh at this I'll see you in the fiery pit of hell sitting right alongside me.)
And you can never go wrong with a dumb cop video.
After a while I get a little bored with videos...so I do something completely different...and read and re-read my favorite blog...
http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
Did you read the blog? Did you? Read some of it! Do it nowwww!!! I PROMISE you will laugh!
Other things make me laugh. Like the other night at work when I told my friend Sam to google something for me and he said..."I'll google your face!" So he did. He googled "Ginger's face" And this is what happened...
This website will keep me laughing for hours...
http://damnyouautocorrect.com/
After a while I get bored and take a break from the internets. Maybe I'll go outside and lay in the grass...you know, get me a suntan!
Yeah, that's me...I was RIGHT THERE in that there grass. See me? Yeah, I ain't got no head!
Or maybe I'll go to the grocery store to visit the fruit.
U-G-L-I? You ain't got no alibi, you UGLY! Hey-hey, you ugly!!!
It's important to stop by and check out the vegetables while you're at the store, you never know when you need some young impressionable peas.
Hee hee...
You can't spend too much time out. Being out makes you tired and grumpy and the point of the day was to LAUGH, so back home I must go so I can sit around some more and watch MOREEEEEEE videos!
Airport humor? I think so!
This one is totally inappropriate, but you can't help but laugh at a dude who can't keep from laughing...
Men have no tolerance for pain...poooor little bunny!
Eddie Murphy...a classic, you don't laugh, you did not live in the awesome 80's!
Funny stuff...that's all I have for today! More laughing! No frownies! No thinky! Too much thinky makes a girl crazy! Goodnight!
So sometimes, when I find myself sitting around thinking too much about life and what it all means, I think...shit! I have to get up and get out, do something big! I have to liiiive!!! NO MORE THINKING!
Maybe I'll bungee jump or sky dive or go ice skating or eat sushi. I could enter a break dancing contest or take a tour of the White House or run a marathon! I could do ALLLL thisssss to clear my head orrrrr....I could watch funny videos on YOU TUBE!!!
And that's exactly what I do. I usually start off slow, with something that will elicit a giggle or two to get the ball rolling...
This video is a comedian talking about being broke. Watch and giggle. THAT'S AN ORDER!
Next I'll watch something cute...you know, something adorable that makes you go awwww!!!
Equally as cute...
And really, once I start watching funny animal videos, it's kind of hard to stop, but I have to limit myself because there are MORE hilarious videos that I NEED to see like nowwww...Such as my ALL TIME FAVORITE, which incidentally is the reason I'm going to hell. (If you laugh at this I'll see you in the fiery pit of hell sitting right alongside me.)
And you can never go wrong with a dumb cop video.
After a while I get a little bored with videos...so I do something completely different...and read and re-read my favorite blog...
http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
Did you read the blog? Did you? Read some of it! Do it nowwww!!! I PROMISE you will laugh!
Other things make me laugh. Like the other night at work when I told my friend Sam to google something for me and he said..."I'll google your face!" So he did. He googled "Ginger's face" And this is what happened...
This website will keep me laughing for hours...
http://damnyouautocorrect.com/
After a while I get bored and take a break from the internets. Maybe I'll go outside and lay in the grass...you know, get me a suntan!
Yeah, that's me...I was RIGHT THERE in that there grass. See me? Yeah, I ain't got no head!
Or maybe I'll go to the grocery store to visit the fruit.
U-G-L-I? You ain't got no alibi, you UGLY! Hey-hey, you ugly!!!
It's important to stop by and check out the vegetables while you're at the store, you never know when you need some young impressionable peas.
Hee hee...
You can't spend too much time out. Being out makes you tired and grumpy and the point of the day was to LAUGH, so back home I must go so I can sit around some more and watch MOREEEEEEE videos!
Airport humor? I think so!
This one is totally inappropriate, but you can't help but laugh at a dude who can't keep from laughing...
Men have no tolerance for pain...poooor little bunny!
Eddie Murphy...a classic, you don't laugh, you did not live in the awesome 80's!
Funny stuff...that's all I have for today! More laughing! No frownies! No thinky! Too much thinky makes a girl crazy! Goodnight!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Hi POP!
Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Dadddddyyyyyyyyy!!!! Whatcha doin? I was just about to post a new blog post, but I see you already checked in for today at some crazzzzyyyy early hour in the morning! Ya gotta give a girl a chance to write, man, what do you think I do, stay up all night long? Well, yes, I do, but first I had to play with my coupons, and eat some seeds, and then stare at the tv for a while and chat with friends and...oh yeah...work! So now, I shall blog and off you go to eat your oatmeal and bananas and then to work. Tell Mop hi!
Love, Hop!
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