Thursday, April 15, 2010

In which I overuse caps lock, parentheses, and bullet points, and tell a disgusting story about dog poop

My friend Jessica blogs pretty much every day. And every single post is perfectly crafted and beautifully written. She blogs so regularly that reading her blog has become a part of my morning routine. Turn alarm off. Get out of bed. Head to bathroom. Turn straightener on. Pull up Jessica on Google Reader. Sit in the middle of bathroom floor and read last night's entry on phone while straightener heats up. It's great!

But also, makes me feel kind of douchey for never blogging. But lame "here's the boring crap I've been doing" posts also make me feel douchey, as does complaining about my own lack of blogging or writing lazy, random bullet-point posts, so it looks like I'm not going to get any less douchey today. Might as well embrace it.
  • I think I like Michael Buble's new song, "Just Haven't Met You Yet." It's just so... bouncy. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy. It also makes me think of the SNL skit "Ham and Bubbly" that he was in, which was actually a pretty mediocre skit but it's still something good to associate the song with, so here we are. I'm not sure how I feel about liking a Buble song. Because it just seems like I should be ashamed of that. Confirm or deny, please.

  • I keep losing articles of clothing that I haven't actually worn or washed recently. Sports bras, for example. WHERE DO THEY GO? I am clearly not using them, as I play no sports, nor have I worked out in, like... let's move on.

    Possible explanations: my house is haunted, the geckos are eating them, Jack is wearing them when I'm not around, people break into my house and steal items one by one so I won't notice. I'll let you know if there are any further developments on this issue. I'm sure you will be on the edge of your seats.

  • Oh my gosh, you guys, I saw my first gecko of the season outside my parents' house tonight. Commence freak out.

  • I totally owe Metalia a hug for tweeting that the SNL of the 2000s special is on NBC right now. (LIKE I WOULDN'T HUG HER ANYWAY.) (BECAUSE I AM A STALKER.) (LIKE, THE REGULAR BLOG-READER KIND.) (NOT THE REAL KIND.) (I DO NOT KNOW WHY I AM TYPING IN ALL CAPS, EXCEPT THAT I'M REALLY, REALLY EXCITED ABOUT THE SNL SPECIAL I AM WATCHING.) I would do a whole post on it except it would just look like "IloveKirstenWiggIloveTinaFeyIloveKirstenWiggIloveAmyPoehlerIloveKirstenWiggIloveWillFerrellIloveKirstenWiggIloveWillForteIloveKirstenWiggIloveSethMyers!" over and over and over. And I'm guessing I would lose a reader or two if I did that. (But at this point, whatever.)

  • I think I'm starting to be all cynical and hate love stories, and yet I am happy and in love and blaaah blah blah. Why, internet?

  • Speaking of music (which we weren't in the above bullet point, but at some point we were, so just stay with me here), HOW MUCH DID YOU LOVE the Macy Gray song at the end of Ugly Betty last night? (Oh, we'll get to the "Waa, Ugly Betty is prematurely over" rant in a minute, don't you worry, so just stay with me here.) I have never been much of a Macy Gray fan, but she's right, there IS beauty in the world! So shake your booty, boys and girls! Also, teehee! She says "booty!!"

  • There are only 2 weeks until BikeMS. Oh, jeez. I'm already pre-grieving on behalf of my back end. Because, ouch.

  • My parents were out of town this week, and so I took care of their cu-razy dog, Tia. She's 15 years old, and selectively deaf (YES. Selectively. Because she cannot hear me when I come in and clap my hands in the room in which she is sleeping, but she can definitely hear me when I unwrap a slice of cheese across the house). My mom was adamant that I bring Tia over to our house every so often so she wouldn't be lonely. Which would be fine. For a NORMAL dog. But Tia is neurotic, and we think autistic. She likes her routines. She likes her own house. And being at mine totally stresses her out.

    And when she gets stressed out, well, she poops. While she is walking. Like a horse. Just walking along and plop. There it goes, onto the carpet. Fan-freaking-tastic.

    It could be worse. She used to have seizures when she got stressed out. So that was less fun. But it could be better too.

    Because the last time she was here, I STEPPED IN DOG POOP WITH MY BARE FOOT ON MY CARPET. Oh yes. Stepped. In poop. With bare feet. On my carpet. And then, of course, tracked it before I knew what had happened.


    I completely flipped out, of course, screaming "I STEPPED IN DOG POOP WITH MY BARE FOOT! I STEPPED IN DOG POOP WITH MY BARE FOOT!" Jack laughed at me. And he did not help me clean up the mess. Useless husband, that one.

    This, of course, was only slightly worse than the time that I was laying on the floor on my back, when the same dog walked by and pooped RIGHT NEXT TO MY FACE. That's the kind of situation that you see your life flash before your eyes, let me tell you.

  • What is with the drivers who don't understand right-of-way or use their turn signals? [Insert lots of grumpy words about that here.]

  • So, I wasn't necessarily going to post about this other than my "ugly baby edition" of Wordless Wednesday in the last post, but we were just watching Grey's tonight and Meredith talked about how everybody knows there are ugly babies but nobody talks about it and I was like "Ha!! I just tweeted that!" (And some people DID NOT LIKE THAT.) (And this is just one more stupid drama thing that makes me want to GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT of the blog/twitter world because, GAHHH drama and condescension and general crappiness.) (But then I remember Sara, and I'm like, well, okay, I'll stay.)

    So here's my point here: At one point or another in a baby's baby-ness, it will be ugly. They go through a weird, creepy, alien, awkward phase in which they do not look good. I don't say that to be mean. I say that because IT'S TRUE. Check out Jack, my brother Shane, and me in the last post. U-G-L-Y. (Or, at the very least, covered in cake.) (Because that is one of the only pictures of me that has been scanned from when I was a baby.) (I'm sure there are worse ones.) (But I'm the second child, so the project obviously stopped before it got to me.) (Thanks a lot, mom and dad.)

    So anyway, we were ugly for a while. But we all turned out just fine and our mothers always loved us. I'M QUITE SURE OF IT.

    When I posted that, a friend of mine (whose point of view I respect, by the way, despite disagreeing with her) said that that was a terrible thing to say, and that I was a bad Christian witness because of it. I've thought about this, and I've decided that while how I said it might have been offensive to some people, what I said is still true. And that's okay, because babies grow out of their ugly phases. But they have them, okay? They do. And even if it's an "everyone knows it, but nobody says it" thing, they do. That is all.

  • I Google words to spell-check them, and I assume everyone else does as well. Confirm or deny, please.
  • Jack has started roaring like a dinosaur as a mode of communication. Well, not really roaring, per se. It's more like a slightly high-pitched "Raaaaarrrrrrr!!!" I'm not so sure I can properly convey that sound in writing, but it's a "Rar," not a "roar." Anyway. The roaring. He does it all the time. This morning, when he woke up, that's the first noise he made.

    "Raaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!!!" he said.

    "Why did you make that noise?" I asked, groggily.

    "Because I'm happy," he replied.

    Just another example of how big of a freak my husband is? WHO IS HAPPY IN THE MORNING?

    Or another time:

    Me: "What do you want for dinner?"/

    Him: "Raaaaaaaarrrrrr!!"

    That doesn't exactly help me, dear.
  • I have people pressuring me to add new shows to my already-long list of shows. Like Glee. And Modern Family. And Dancing with the Stars (and the train-wreck that is Kate Gosslin.) (In life and on the dance floor.) And Gossip Girl. And Parenthood (which I already kind of love).

    But I do not have this kind of time. But now that Ugly Betty is gone (GAHHH. Why, ABC? WHYYYYY?) (The finale wasn't as finale-y as I thought it would be.)

    So the point is, I may have an hour open a week. What new TV show is necessary in life? Discuss.

End scene.
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