A Toast

Here's to:

No longer being the person people lay next to on the beach to feel good about themselves.

Cheers.

-The contest begins today.

Homebound

Emmy's been puking for the past two days.
Olivia has some minor form of conjunctivitis.
Thus, Bradley and I are stuck at home.

Until he abandoned me to go to his friends' house.

I'm bored.

Even though I have a book to read for book club, a bedroom to organize and a house to disinfect with Clorox Wipes and Lysol. Plus, I'm sure there's a pile of laundry somewhere that needs to be put away.

Please tell me at least you're out having fun, you know, grocery shopping or going to the cleaners. What's it like to have such a glamorous life?

You Look Like You Could Use It

- not the contest! The money, duh!

You have until Friday, the 31st to send me your money. So do it!

Email me (look over there ------> for my email address) if you need my home address.

I'm getting money every day from everywhere. It's gonna be another good one!

What's wrong with the rest of you. Is it 'cause you can't think of a good alias?

What about these:
Fatty McGee
I [heart] Cankles
Large Marge
Cellulucious
Sausage Fingers
Heart Condition in the Works
5 Feet Across
Kilograms R Better

...come on

Bring it!

Click here for verification if you don't know what the heck I'm talking about. 

The rules and price have changed, email for the details.

Spoiler Alert

It was good.

And scary.

Too scary for my monkeys. Like that scene where that thing happens to that person and then stuff.

Thanks, Shels, Jester, Say-Diddy, Teej, Crys-meister, Tabby-cakes, & C-dawg for going with me. It was fun. And now I have nicknames for all of you. I know I didn't tell you, but you like them, right?

Sorry if I ruined the movie for you.
I just couldn't keep it to myself.

Dirty Laundry

Ste and I have been discussing lately.

Discussing is an adorable way to say arguing.

Here's my side [the right side] of the fight, I mean, discussion:

I'm at a time in my life when my children are too young to adequately (or they're unwilling to) help around the house and, to finish off the double-edged sword, they're also at that age when they seem to make the largest of messes (Olivia!).

To top it off, my husband has, ahem, removed himself one degree further (he' in the 'ric, now) and I'm doing stuff like mowing/edging the yard & taking out the trash (I feel like I'm one step away from scratching myself inappropriately - and I can't even say stuff like that anymore 'cause I'm married to someone in the 'ric).

Ugh.

Anyway, I thought that during the summer, when my kids are around an extra 8 hours a day to destroy my house, it would be nice to have someone help out once every 3-4 weeks.

Here's his side of the "discussion":

1. It's not in the budget.
2. It's not going to only last during the summer (he knows my addictive tendencies).
3. Our house is small enough that you can clean the toilet and vacuum the stairs at the same time. AND if I want a house that's not as small, we need to cut back on splurges, which brings us back to reason #1.

So, go ahead.
Comment.
But only if you're going to validate my needs.

You Non-Contributing Zero

Thanks for the video, Pops.

Unecessary Explanation

Sometimes when I'm at the checkout and all of my treasures are slowly moving along that conveyor belt, I sometimes glance at the check-out chick to see if she's judging me.

A raised eyebrow.

A smirk.

A tilted head.

A frownsmile.

Nothing. I've never once had any of these judging face/body languages from the person behind the register, even though I probably should have. Because I know if I were checking someone out, I'd be like, "Really? You're going to buy that Tropicana crap when the frozen concentrate is half the price? Psh."

As I my own eyes search over my purchases, I feel like I need to explain why I'm buying strawberries and carrots and still feeding my kids Lucky Charms. And why I'm buying diet soda and yet I'm getting ice cream and chocolate candy. Or why I'm buying a block of cheddar cheese as well as the pre-grated cheddar cheese. Really? Am I that lazy? I just know they're thinking these things.

I will admit that a few years ago when I was frantically buying a pregnancy test and a snickers bar, the girl said, well, she sort of asked it: "Good luck."?

I just tilted my head at her and frownsmiled.