We've been made aware that some readers think any quotes posted on this blog have been posted by the person who originally said them. We would like to clarify that that would be Lame. To write something you said and then give yourself credit. Please, know that all quotes are typed and posted by the person who was tickled pink by hearing the words - not by she who first thought them up, failed to realize their offensive quality, and chose to speak them through caveman gestures, emails, texts, or vocalizers.
Remember when your family got their first answering machine and everyone was warned to never record "Sorry, we're not home right now, but please leave a message." Because the person calling would hear that and come rob you because you so stupidly told them you weren't there to defend your home. Technology is so scary
"How do you know?"
"I called their house phone."
Go figure. The first time I have to change the tire by myself, my boyfriend is standing over me, slave driving me. You'd think that my wearing a dress and no underwear (I like to feel the springtime breeze!) and having a strong able-bodied male at my side would have immediately exempt me. You'd also think by the way I'm cranking the jack that I'm left-handed. Neither proved true. Luckily I had ESP (emergency sweat pants) and the strength of two men in my left biscep. I changed that tire.
Is nothing sacred! Let me tell you a little story about the time Tim Tebow was at a church camp and all the older guys started a weight lifting competition. Tim was a very competitive, driven kid and as second to last guy, he knew he'd have to make it a good one. The number to beat was 40. Tebow did 400.
Are you kidding me? That's the type of guy we are going to give away. There's an even better story about him bringing his broken dog back to life, but I don't think any of us deserve to hear it.
We hope your St. Patrick's day was full of swearing like a sailor, drinking red wine all day long, 7-letter word bonuses, laughing so hard at dinner you start crying, getting ditched by a bunch of boys, playing abusive card games, late night ghetto carbomb, youtube clips of Michael Flatly's Lord of the Dance, cheeto fingers, dancing your way to self-checkout lanes, spying on shirtless guys digging holes at the park, and napping in that park with your BFFL (with your heads downhill). It's what the Irish have been doing for 2000 years. We like to keep it traditional around here.
Bab and I believe we're capable of doing all sorts of amazing things as long as we're able to be a team in the deal. For example, peace corp, raquetball tournaments, hotdog eating competitions, mutton busting, tallest lady in the world, and more recently Dual Slalom Snow Downhilling. For a wild moment, I thought I'd enter the bike race on my own because there were very few ladies entered and the payout was good. But thank God I didn't enter. That course was steep! Bab said had I entered, she would have seen how nervous I'd have been and said, "It's ok, you don't have to do it." That's the kind of best friend you want to have. One that encourages you to bail on things because they're challenging. YET, we are positive that we would have signed up, IF we could race on a tandem.
"And they're walking their bike down the mountain, in tandem." - pretend announcer a la TJ
Last week, I don't know what got into me (probably a combination of spring weather, new yayco bike frame, and cute boy watching) but I decided I'd pop some wheelies at the park. I was doing just fine and then! Then I didn't land on the pedals and they cheese-grated my shin! Geez. That's what I get for showin' off for my boyfriend. In the words of George Strait in his monumental roll as Dusty-the-fed-up-with-all-the-lights-and-the-smoke-country-singer, "What a neurd."
[photo was taken a week later, after I finally shaved my yetis]
Yes, I did. Last night I channeled my grandma Virginia and put raw garlic into the stinkiest and most delicious salad I've ever made. Although a strange sensation, I wasn't surprised that the raw garlic burned my mouth a little (after that one time I chopped garlic for pad thai and tried to put my contact back in... Holy mother... the burning... I couldn't even begin to open my weeping eye for a whole minute). What was surprising was how bad my breath smelled - because I have a blessed cold the smell never reached me, but the taste has remained with me until this morning! So, I guess I will continue to eat garlic sporadically, knowing now that it keeps both vampires AND boyfriends at bay.
Truth. This wild lioness was spotted walking with an abandoned newborn oryx. Neither had a herd of their own. Scientists observed her for two weeks and found she overcame the struggle between predator vs. mothering instincts to become this baby's mama. The lioness' milk was not the right nourishment for the baby, and the lioness couldn't leave it to hunt, yet they stayed together as they slowly starved. She would clean the baby and it would snuggle against her. One day, she was forced to hunt and another lion killed her baby as she watched, powerless. After that, she returned to hunting like a normal lion. But, in her lifetime, she would adopt five more abandoned baby oryx. Then one day, she disappeared.
Today is ol' Beanfull's birthday! It's fun having a best friend who leads the way through time. And here's something I read once that I liked and would like us to embrace this year, to learn to use the passions of our hearts to love on this world in a powerful way. That's my wish. And as BFFL, it's my right to make a wish, too.
And I know what you're thinking - what a shitty stockpile. That this wouldn't last me more than a night or two of the apocalypse. You scoff at the perishable items. But, if the cheese and wine are gone, I don't want to live much longer anyways; I'm guuuuud.
for the new season of all-terrain putt putt. I found the perfect putter
at the thrift store yesterday! Just as I was saying "I wish they had one
of those crappy ones like at the putt putt places." Then I saw this
thing, a shining star. Crappy. A little too short. Likely lead-based.
And when I asked how much and he said "A couple of bucks" and I said
"How many bucks?" "$1.98" I new we were m.f.e.o. The price was right...
precisely two cents under my limit!
A kid drew this a while ago when I subbed for art. Could that little face be any sadder?! Not without breaking the rules of drawing only in the circle. Man, I love this. I tried to think about what in life ever makes me feel this sad, and it mostly revolved around that one scene when Littlefoot thinks he sees his mother, but he's just chasing a rock's shadow. Then he curls up with his tree star because his mother is still dead. (also, I feel this way when all the milk is gone).
The cool thing about being a sub is that I never see the same kids twice. And the coolest part about that is not having to pick a different outfit every day! Aside from new underwear, Monday's outfit usually carries me through to Friday (wherein I switch to weekend outfit: ninja turtle suit). I simply lay the week'soutfit in a flatish manner on the hamper and blindly grab it in the dark morning. I might add some flare, like a bra, but nothing too fancy. Today, I'm wearing my Charlie's for a little extra warmth, but this grey shirt I don? I've been wearing since the beginning of the week. Day and night.
It feels so good to be doing something with my life.