* I was looking at this list of HI-larious autocorrect failures today, and was laughing so hard I had to take off my glasses, because tears were streaming down my face, and I believe at one point I drooled, and perhaps blew a snot bubble, too. Helper Monkey and Lulu made a few comments about how Mama broke her brain again. It was obscene. After five minutes, Lulu asked if I was STILL laughing, and if I was still breathing. I told her I was only on number 10 of 30, and she put in her ear buds and tried to pretend I didn't exist anymore.
* That moment, pouring the last cup of coffee, but it won't all fit in the mug, so you stand there slurping coffee as fast as you can, alternately topping off the mug and scalding your tongue, so you don't have to pour the last few tablespoons of the precious, precious coffee down the kitchen sink. Then for the rest of the day your tongue feels like it's being bitten by ants, and it's okay, because it reminds you how much you loved that coffee. And then you want more coffee. *and hooray for second POV*
* The cat is currently snoring so loud I thought there was a tv or radio on somewhere in the house. Also, he's using his back foot as a pillow. Cats.
|How is that comfortable? At all?|
* Speaking of the cat, he's learned a fun new game. It's called BOOBY TRAP. To play, he drags his water bowl into the middle of the floor, cleverly placing it in a direct line between the stairs and the garage door. Every time I walk through my office, I punt the bowl, nearly fall over, and slosh water everywhere. I guess this is his way of ensuring his food area is mopped on a regular basis. Either that, or he thinks it's funny to watch mommy curse and flail. Probably both.
* The school called today to tell me that they found a check in the hallway that Lulu was supposed to bring home to me today. This was a substantial check, for a girl scout cookie order. Thank commas it wasn't cash because I don't trust a middle-schooler would've turned in $144 in cash to the office. O_O
* I accidentally read the comments on this article by Margaret Cho about tattoos and body image. One ignorant and sickening comment (out of many such) suggested that tattoos are disgusting and offensive, and a blight on the landscape. S/he went on to say that they should be covered at all times, because the sight of them was so intolerable. Really. Tattoos. Let me tell ya, comment person, I've seen things in public that I was offended by, that I wish I could unsee (and I mean you, see-through-leggings-worn-as-pants-lady from the other night). I have rarely been offended or disgusted by a tattoo (other than hate-inspired ink, which I hope any of my Thoughtful Readers would be equally offended by). My tattoos are not the result of drunken escapades, nor youthful joie-de-vivre. Every one of them means something to me, and I wouldn't give a single one of them up. In fact, I have a list of MORE tattoos I plan to get as soon as I can.
P.S.: Don't read the comments. Well, you can feel free to read any comments on this here blog, because I don't stand for meanies. If you want to be a meanie, that's fine, but I will delete your trolly little behind faster than you can say antidisestablishmentarianism. And yes, I know it takes a while to say that, but it's not like I sit around all day hitting refresh on my comments page. I do have a life outside of this blog, or I'd run out of things to write about pretty quick.
* Helper Monkey told me he enjoys reading my blog, because even though he's heard most of these stories, he says I write them in a way that's different from how I relate the same facts to him in the course of everyday life. I don't know why, but this makes me deliriously happy.
* One last cat story, I promise. I use my ottoman as a desk, and it gets piled up pretty high with books, paperwork, my laptop (when it's not atop my lap), and random items like ear buds and my magic wand (because you've got to keep your magic wand close to hand). The cat seems to think he has a right to share space with all that stuff and my feet (it is an ottoman, after all). The kindle was sitting atop the pile when Mr. Stinky decided he couldn't share space with everything, and gave the pile a little nudge. Of course, it landed charger-side-down, and bent the stupid pluggydoo. Granted, kindles charge on the same plug as all the cell phones in the house, as well as everything else that uses those little mini USB cables, it it's not like I don't have a spare (or twelve). It's the principle of the thing. I am clearly doomed to live a life free of nice things.
Oh, the kindle is fine. Gary Jr. survived his 18" plummet to the wood floor just fine, unlike his older deceased brother. Thank commas for that protective case I bought for it. It seemed expensive, but in the few weeks I've had the case, I've dropped it down a flight of stairs, sat on it, and now dropped it on the floor again. So. I'd say it was well worth the money.
And I think that's more than enough for one day, don't you? I hope y'all had some fun. Tune in next time when there will be more of the same, but slightly different, because otherwise, why would you bother tuning in again? This is a no-rerun kind of blog.