He says to me this morning:
"If you were to kiss me right now, it would be like kissing a skunk's ass."
Seriously, is there anything more romantic?
27 July 2006
18 July 2006
why won't you let me buy anything?
Last night I went to the mall prepared to buy as many new cute tank tops as I could get my grubby little hands on. At about 7:30 I set out from my house, giving me about an hour and a half. I was not going to be picky. I was not going to haggle with myself over price. I was not going to look at something I found interesting and then put it back because it was too expensive. I was going to SHOP.
Unfortunately, it didn't work out as I had hoped. In fact, it didn't work out at all. See, I have a pretty tiny waist. But I am by no means skinny. I also have a huge ass. Big Dutch Butt or some such thing. So, tiny waist, big fat ass. So, I have a very curvy, womanly figure. Apparantly, no one else has a figure like this. They don't design clothes for it. The style right now is long skinny tank tops. SCREW long skinny tank tops. They are supposed to follow the curve of your body from top to mid thigh. Guess whose tiny waist and fat ass do not fit into tank tops like these? That's right. Mine.
Argh. No one carries regular tank tops, or in fact, any cute tank tops of any size. So I came home from willing to spend as much money as needed, to spending nothing. Ugh. I hate clothes shopping right now. But I did get a pair of flip flops. Off the internet, when I got home. So there.
Unfortunately, it didn't work out as I had hoped. In fact, it didn't work out at all. See, I have a pretty tiny waist. But I am by no means skinny. I also have a huge ass. Big Dutch Butt or some such thing. So, tiny waist, big fat ass. So, I have a very curvy, womanly figure. Apparantly, no one else has a figure like this. They don't design clothes for it. The style right now is long skinny tank tops. SCREW long skinny tank tops. They are supposed to follow the curve of your body from top to mid thigh. Guess whose tiny waist and fat ass do not fit into tank tops like these? That's right. Mine.
Argh. No one carries regular tank tops, or in fact, any cute tank tops of any size. So I came home from willing to spend as much money as needed, to spending nothing. Ugh. I hate clothes shopping right now. But I did get a pair of flip flops. Off the internet, when I got home. So there.
14 July 2006
the scene of carnage
Just as a disclaimer: We are not dirty people. I promise.
Last night before I went to bed, I happened to be in the kitchen. My eyes happened upon the candy jar - once full of skittles, now holding only about 10. The decrease in skittle number, however, was not what was disturbing to me. Instead, the cause for concern was the moving black blanket that covered every candy in the jar. Ants. Teeny tiny ants. All over the skittles. It was pretty gross. But grosser still were: 1) the lid was on the jar. Umm, how did they get in there? Magic? Transporters? My best guess is that my dear husband did not replace the lid tight enough, thus allowing airholes, and ant entrances. 2) the ants had not confined themselves to only the skittles jar. They were also all over the shelves around the skittles jar, and forming a military line from behind the fridge to said shelves and skittles jar. 3) they were also crawling all around my cats' food. Poor cats, at least they could get some... extra protein?
So, what did I do when I saw this disturbing sight? What any red-blooded, tired, hard-working wife would do. I called my husband and told him to "come look at this." (You see, if I just tell him to come look, it doesn't sound like I'm passing the job off on him. Heh.) So, he came downstairs and actually kind of started freaking out. He does that sometimes. After a bit of discussion about what to do, I kind of got annoyed with his weird ideas, and rather than fight to say my opinion, I just went to bed. He, however, though already having been in bed when I called him, stayed downstairs to obsessively and compulsively track the ants to their entrypoint. We have had ants like this before and got rid of them fairly quickly with some ant traps (They kill the queen where she lives!). Said ant traps are even still sitting in the kitchen... So, long story short, he moved the ant traps to the ant entrypoints as best he could, then finally came to bed.
This morning I went down for breakfast and saw the carnage that was the ants. To be sure, they were not all gone, but a good number lay motionless around the shelf (I keep my food there - shudder). The best part though, was the remains of the feast they had enjoyed shortly before their deaths. The ant traps we use are little plastic dome looking things. Inside, they have a supply of ant food. The food actually contains poison. They bring the poison back to their nest and kill the queen and others in the colony. Well, those ants were busy little guys. There was a fine dusting of reddish brown ant food spread at least an inch on any side of the trap. Just beyond this dusting, lay the carcasses of about 20-30 ants. It was kind of gross. But also kind of cool.
So, tonight we get to come back home to the carnage, and hopefully a few less ants. I hope we've left a warning to them though. Ants had better not mess with us. In fact, maybe we should take a picture and post it by their ant hole as a warning. Just to make sure they don't bother us again. Stupid ants.
Last night before I went to bed, I happened to be in the kitchen. My eyes happened upon the candy jar - once full of skittles, now holding only about 10. The decrease in skittle number, however, was not what was disturbing to me. Instead, the cause for concern was the moving black blanket that covered every candy in the jar. Ants. Teeny tiny ants. All over the skittles. It was pretty gross. But grosser still were: 1) the lid was on the jar. Umm, how did they get in there? Magic? Transporters? My best guess is that my dear husband did not replace the lid tight enough, thus allowing airholes, and ant entrances. 2) the ants had not confined themselves to only the skittles jar. They were also all over the shelves around the skittles jar, and forming a military line from behind the fridge to said shelves and skittles jar. 3) they were also crawling all around my cats' food. Poor cats, at least they could get some... extra protein?
So, what did I do when I saw this disturbing sight? What any red-blooded, tired, hard-working wife would do. I called my husband and told him to "come look at this." (You see, if I just tell him to come look, it doesn't sound like I'm passing the job off on him. Heh.) So, he came downstairs and actually kind of started freaking out. He does that sometimes. After a bit of discussion about what to do, I kind of got annoyed with his weird ideas, and rather than fight to say my opinion, I just went to bed. He, however, though already having been in bed when I called him, stayed downstairs to obsessively and compulsively track the ants to their entrypoint. We have had ants like this before and got rid of them fairly quickly with some ant traps (They kill the queen where she lives!). Said ant traps are even still sitting in the kitchen... So, long story short, he moved the ant traps to the ant entrypoints as best he could, then finally came to bed.
This morning I went down for breakfast and saw the carnage that was the ants. To be sure, they were not all gone, but a good number lay motionless around the shelf (I keep my food there - shudder). The best part though, was the remains of the feast they had enjoyed shortly before their deaths. The ant traps we use are little plastic dome looking things. Inside, they have a supply of ant food. The food actually contains poison. They bring the poison back to their nest and kill the queen and others in the colony. Well, those ants were busy little guys. There was a fine dusting of reddish brown ant food spread at least an inch on any side of the trap. Just beyond this dusting, lay the carcasses of about 20-30 ants. It was kind of gross. But also kind of cool.
So, tonight we get to come back home to the carnage, and hopefully a few less ants. I hope we've left a warning to them though. Ants had better not mess with us. In fact, maybe we should take a picture and post it by their ant hole as a warning. Just to make sure they don't bother us again. Stupid ants.
10 July 2006
so....when?
I have a question. When is it appropriate, if ever, to admit that you have been listening in on a phone conversation to which you have not been invited?
Right now I am listening to my coworker rattle off to her husband on the other end of the line, a list of groceries she needs him to pick up. Well, one of the things she listed was a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. And she said "and I need two cups of that, so make sure you pick up two bags." The thing is, a normal bag of shredded cheese (any flavor) comes standard in a two cup sized bag. So, really she would only need to buy one. Although, sometimes, they come in a three cup sized bag, they never really come in a 1 cup sized bag. Anyway, so I wanted to lean over and tell her that he really only needed to pick up one bag, not two. But then the jig would be up; I would be exposed for the listening tom (?) I am....
I am kind of pathetic.
Right now I am listening to my coworker rattle off to her husband on the other end of the line, a list of groceries she needs him to pick up. Well, one of the things she listed was a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. And she said "and I need two cups of that, so make sure you pick up two bags." The thing is, a normal bag of shredded cheese (any flavor) comes standard in a two cup sized bag. So, really she would only need to buy one. Although, sometimes, they come in a three cup sized bag, they never really come in a 1 cup sized bag. Anyway, so I wanted to lean over and tell her that he really only needed to pick up one bag, not two. But then the jig would be up; I would be exposed for the listening tom (?) I am....
I am kind of pathetic.
05 July 2006
christmas in july
I kind of hate the fourth of July.
Don't get me wrong, I love the vacation time. And since, my place of employment is so generous, I also got Monday off. So, that was a nice four day weekend. But, the part that really annoys me about the holiday is the fireworks.
I've never really enjoyed fireworks. My mom loves to tell stories about how my younger sister (almost exactly one year younger) used to LOVE to watch the fireworks and hear the loud pops and whistles, while I would hide my head in my mom or dad's shoulder and scream and cry until we could go home. They were scary.
Every year the whole family would travel to grandma's house in Grand Haven, MI, walk downtown, and watch the fireworks with extended family. Except me. I would stay home with grandma and watch the fireworks on TV. I could hear them coming from downtown, while comfortably inside the house, and see them on TV. They didn't seem that special to me. I would rather stay home and help my grandma do dishes than trek a mile or whatever to sit on damp grass, get bitten by bugs, and blow my ears out, just to watch some trash blow up in the sky.
I'm no longer scared of fireworks. But I do kind of consider myself the Scrooge of the fourth of July. Fireworks? Bah. Humbug! Every year stupid kids let off fireworks a few days before, and a few days after the holiday. They obviously wait until midnight, when I am sleeping, and they let off the skyward ones. (Illegally.) Stupid kids.
Last night, on the fourth, we sat in my house in Eastown and listened to the fireworks from Downtown and Cascade compete with each other. Trouble was a little shook up when they started, looking to us, pleading with us, to make it stop. But when the bottle rockets went off next door he had had enough. Trouble jumped off the cabinet and made a beeline to the stairs, skidding on the second step as he ran to safety (we guessed he ran to hide under our bed). It was funny and sad at the same time. Stupid fireworks. Scaring my cat. Just one mroe reason I hate them.
So anyway, round about the last week of June or the first week of July, don't ask about my plans. Don't ask me if I'm going to the fireworks. Because I won't be. Not because I'm scared, not because a traumatic fireworks experience has scarred me for life physically or emotionally, but just because I think they are kind of stupid. And I think they're a waste of time. And they're really loud. Stupid fireworks.
Bah. Humbug.
Don't get me wrong, I love the vacation time. And since, my place of employment is so generous, I also got Monday off. So, that was a nice four day weekend. But, the part that really annoys me about the holiday is the fireworks.
I've never really enjoyed fireworks. My mom loves to tell stories about how my younger sister (almost exactly one year younger) used to LOVE to watch the fireworks and hear the loud pops and whistles, while I would hide my head in my mom or dad's shoulder and scream and cry until we could go home. They were scary.
Every year the whole family would travel to grandma's house in Grand Haven, MI, walk downtown, and watch the fireworks with extended family. Except me. I would stay home with grandma and watch the fireworks on TV. I could hear them coming from downtown, while comfortably inside the house, and see them on TV. They didn't seem that special to me. I would rather stay home and help my grandma do dishes than trek a mile or whatever to sit on damp grass, get bitten by bugs, and blow my ears out, just to watch some trash blow up in the sky.
I'm no longer scared of fireworks. But I do kind of consider myself the Scrooge of the fourth of July. Fireworks? Bah. Humbug! Every year stupid kids let off fireworks a few days before, and a few days after the holiday. They obviously wait until midnight, when I am sleeping, and they let off the skyward ones. (Illegally.) Stupid kids.
Last night, on the fourth, we sat in my house in Eastown and listened to the fireworks from Downtown and Cascade compete with each other. Trouble was a little shook up when they started, looking to us, pleading with us, to make it stop. But when the bottle rockets went off next door he had had enough. Trouble jumped off the cabinet and made a beeline to the stairs, skidding on the second step as he ran to safety (we guessed he ran to hide under our bed). It was funny and sad at the same time. Stupid fireworks. Scaring my cat. Just one mroe reason I hate them.
So anyway, round about the last week of June or the first week of July, don't ask about my plans. Don't ask me if I'm going to the fireworks. Because I won't be. Not because I'm scared, not because a traumatic fireworks experience has scarred me for life physically or emotionally, but just because I think they are kind of stupid. And I think they're a waste of time. And they're really loud. Stupid fireworks.
Bah. Humbug.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)