Which is the sound from the 'strip to the waist and fight to the death' song from that one Star Trek movie.
Currently in the fortress of solitude. Currently using my buddy E's shiny mac*book, and quietly, softly, gently being converted into a mac believer....which is potentially shattering to my financial future. (If this continues, I will finally admit to myself that I am using a laptop that coughs and wheezes and a desk top that is plagued by Vis*ta....The same program that decided that the internet was far, far too dangerous a place for me to be galavanitng and stopped allowing me access for a time. I actually have a scar to prove that one.)
Lots of wholesome family fun in the works the next few days. Hopefully there won't be any flying of kites of picnics, for my head may melt. No, the youngest of the brothers is having his very first home football game, and he is the 1)Largest person on the team, 2)The starting center (Quote from less athletically inclined brother D: "So, wait, A is the dude that has that other dude's hand on his ass?") and 3)Been said to be, by both coaches, the strongest player on the team. T is simply GLOWING with pride, being that he was a varsity football player (Not a center, however. T is not even close to being the Mack Truck that is A. I'm totally ok with this.) back in HS as well, and none have followed in his footsteps until baby A.
Needless to say, we will be going to the football game. I haven't been to a football game since my pep band days.....and that was circa a decade ago.
I'm sure nothing has changed.
Also, there will be other rounds of wholesomeness. Lots of meals cooked together and enjoyed outside, lots of walks in the park and so on.
Ribeye steaks with bleu cheese, roasted asparagus and rosemary Yukon Gold potatoes...Corned beef and cabbage....
T squealed when I told him the meal plan for this weekend. He's still a little stuffy, so we will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that the squeal was an accident.
********************************
Oh, what else. Nothing really interesting that doesn't make my head explode.... (Have I mentioned what a horrible, meddling and evil woman my neighbor at the fortress of solitude is? UGH.)
Yeah. I got nothing.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Can You Smell the Freshness?
Nothing really interesting happening here. I burned myself with mild chilies (Have I mentioned this already? I don't normally read my own blog. Sorry.) in a freak turn of events that took NINE hours to end and I spent the duration alternately weeping and soaking my hand in cold vinegar. Totally my finest hour(s).
Yesterday, for the first time ever in the history of history, T fell sick--and I did not. Normally, a germ crosses our paths and I collapse like a bag of laundry, and cough and hack and sneeze for a week or so. T stands there, looking slightly confused, but not sick at all. He may sneeze once or twice, but that's the worst of it.
My sister (the evil bitch that she is) brought not only good cheer to my house last week, but a cold. And T got it....and I didn't. (Probably because of my homeopathic cure all stuff. That I don't mention on the blog. But whatever.)
Amazing. I am just as shocked as the rest of you aren't!
However...this means something for T. I am a varsity member of the "I Will Fix It" team. I treat his sickness like a military campaign, and he hates it.
But he feels better.
I was telling him last night that this is a lesson that he needs to learn before we wed.
We can either stand here for ten minutes and argue and then you will do what I say, or you can just do what I say.
(I'm really not the overbearing wife type. I really only get demanding and weird when T's health is in jeopardy. I think.)
Anyway, after much tea drinking, sock wearing, Zi*cam, Air**borne, sleep and Vi*cks, T is feeling better. So there!
Also, please go check out Zombie Fights Shark--Link to the left. So, so hilarious. Not totally safe for work (No porn or anything, but a healthy dose of swearing. And this is coming from me, here.) and not totally safe if you're offended by that sort of thing. (If you are, what the hell are you doing here??) Check it out.
Yesterday, for the first time ever in the history of history, T fell sick--and I did not. Normally, a germ crosses our paths and I collapse like a bag of laundry, and cough and hack and sneeze for a week or so. T stands there, looking slightly confused, but not sick at all. He may sneeze once or twice, but that's the worst of it.
My sister (the evil bitch that she is) brought not only good cheer to my house last week, but a cold. And T got it....and I didn't. (Probably because of my homeopathic cure all stuff. That I don't mention on the blog. But whatever.)
Amazing. I am just as shocked as the rest of you aren't!
However...this means something for T. I am a varsity member of the "I Will Fix It" team. I treat his sickness like a military campaign, and he hates it.
But he feels better.
I was telling him last night that this is a lesson that he needs to learn before we wed.
We can either stand here for ten minutes and argue and then you will do what I say, or you can just do what I say.
(I'm really not the overbearing wife type. I really only get demanding and weird when T's health is in jeopardy. I think.)
Anyway, after much tea drinking, sock wearing, Zi*cam, Air**borne, sleep and Vi*cks, T is feeling better. So there!
Also, please go check out Zombie Fights Shark--Link to the left. So, so hilarious. Not totally safe for work (No porn or anything, but a healthy dose of swearing. And this is coming from me, here.) and not totally safe if you're offended by that sort of thing. (If you are, what the hell are you doing here??) Check it out.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Misanthropy....
Please tell me that's how you spell that.
So roomie, non-brother roomie, to be exact, has taken my last nerve and plucked it like an out-of-tune guitar string.
Thankfully, by the time he gets up today, I will probably calmed down enough to not want to skin his face and use it to mop my kitchen floor.
It would seem--Well, it's definitely true, being as Brother J's buddies cannot keep a damn thing to themselves (which has worked in my favor a time or 14) that Roomie M knows precisely how much T and I desire his house-work ethic to change. J has talked to him (unsuccessfully), I have (over and over and over again--But that's passive aggressive!), and T has a time or two as well. Nothing has changed. I heard (via Myspace....Lord help us all) from one of the boys' friends (Who used to essentially live here. Nice kid. Has OCD and used to get stoned and mop my floor and fold my laundry for me.) that he and M had a long, detailed talk about how M knows that everyone in his life is pissed off at him, how he knows that this would be an easy problem to solve, but that he just doesn't want to.
Really? I mean, really. How apathetic can you get? I know the kid is 20, but Christ.
Anyway, OCD buddy sends me this message telling me that he tried to make M see things from every one's point of view, that I (we) need to understand that he is young, that this is his first time living without his parents, blah blah blah. I understand all these things. I, too, was 20 once. (Granted, when I was 20 I had been out on my own for almost 3 years and had been taking care of myself for longer than that, but I am the exception to this rule.) But I understand.
What I don't understand, however, is what the fuck he is thinking.
"Everyone is irritated with me because I am a schlub who makes epic fucking messes DAILY, makes no move to even attempt to clean them up, and when I am asked to help clean/do a chore/pick up after myself I cop a huge attitude, tell everyone they are passive aggressive, or lie. Works for me!"
Last night I cooked dinner for everyone. T asked M to do the dishes, and his response was, "I have to work in like, ten minutes". He then went in the living room and started to play Rock Band.
T went in, turned off the game, stood in front of the television and said, "You have to work in an hour and a half. If you have time to play video games, you have time to load the goddamn dishwasher".
I went to take a shower.
Then I re-did the dishes. (Helpful hint: When loading the dishwasher, especially if it is a late-70's model, and small, rinse the dishes first. Also, don't just fling them in there and force it closed--It no likey. They make slots and things for plates, you know.)
I then swept the kitchen floor and J cleaned off the table, T put everything in tupperware. M sat in the living room, staring at us.
Then he went to work. J went out with 'the ladies', whoever they are, and T and I went to bed. I slept soundly, knowing my kitchen was clean, and would be when I woke up. All I would need to do is make coffee, and I could start my day.
I was wrong. As usual.
It was like a winged badger went through my kitchen this morning. Crap all over the floor, wrappers and pop cans all over the counter, plates stacked willy-nilly in front of the coffee pot. Spilled beer on the stove.
After a small aneurysm, I cleaned it up, made coffee, and came up with new and creative swear words.
***********************************
See, this house. It's not the nicest house. BUT! It has good bones, good potential. It's in a part of town expected to have huge growth in the next few years. It has a fenced yard. T bought it with the intent of flipping it--and I agreed. (Hell, I'm the one that picked the damn thing out!) It was a rental for 10 years before we bought it--This should tell you something. (The carpet. Good, sweet Lord, the carpet.) I know my hand is stacked against me here--Four people in a three bedroom house that needs work. My refusal to live in squalor means that I clean....a lot.
We're talking about putting in pergo floors and painting (And getting rid of the damn popcorn ceiling.) as a christmas gift to ourselves. (It will be a whole.new.house.) If this happens--Oh, how the boy's lives will change. If they think I'm a pain in the ass now......ah.
*********************************************
My friend (and ex-coworker/bowling ace/chef) A told me this story last night, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. Hilarity.
So there is a group of retired men (late fifties-ish in age) who come up annually to play golf over a weekend. They leave their wives at home and get stinking drunk the whole time.
The first night, a man was shitfaced and walking down the dock to his boat, and fell into the water. (He was fine.)
The next day, everyone went to play golf, and the man who fell in the water's brother is shitfaced. He is riding in a golf cart, and decides he needs to use the restroom.
Rather than go to the actual restroom to do his business and leave everyone to wait for him, he drops his pants and hangs his ass off the edge of the moving golf cart, and proceeds to begin to...relieve himself. Well, considering he is shitfaced drunk, he falls off the golf cart, pants around his ankles, and gets his head run over.
He was fine.
Again, who does this??
So roomie, non-brother roomie, to be exact, has taken my last nerve and plucked it like an out-of-tune guitar string.
Thankfully, by the time he gets up today, I will probably calmed down enough to not want to skin his face and use it to mop my kitchen floor.
It would seem--Well, it's definitely true, being as Brother J's buddies cannot keep a damn thing to themselves (which has worked in my favor a time or 14) that Roomie M knows precisely how much T and I desire his house-work ethic to change. J has talked to him (unsuccessfully), I have (over and over and over again--But that's passive aggressive!), and T has a time or two as well. Nothing has changed. I heard (via Myspace....Lord help us all) from one of the boys' friends (Who used to essentially live here. Nice kid. Has OCD and used to get stoned and mop my floor and fold my laundry for me.) that he and M had a long, detailed talk about how M knows that everyone in his life is pissed off at him, how he knows that this would be an easy problem to solve, but that he just doesn't want to.
Really? I mean, really. How apathetic can you get? I know the kid is 20, but Christ.
Anyway, OCD buddy sends me this message telling me that he tried to make M see things from every one's point of view, that I (we) need to understand that he is young, that this is his first time living without his parents, blah blah blah. I understand all these things. I, too, was 20 once. (Granted, when I was 20 I had been out on my own for almost 3 years and had been taking care of myself for longer than that, but I am the exception to this rule.) But I understand.
What I don't understand, however, is what the fuck he is thinking.
"Everyone is irritated with me because I am a schlub who makes epic fucking messes DAILY, makes no move to even attempt to clean them up, and when I am asked to help clean/do a chore/pick up after myself I cop a huge attitude, tell everyone they are passive aggressive, or lie. Works for me!"
Last night I cooked dinner for everyone. T asked M to do the dishes, and his response was, "I have to work in like, ten minutes". He then went in the living room and started to play Rock Band.
T went in, turned off the game, stood in front of the television and said, "You have to work in an hour and a half. If you have time to play video games, you have time to load the goddamn dishwasher".
I went to take a shower.
Then I re-did the dishes. (Helpful hint: When loading the dishwasher, especially if it is a late-70's model, and small, rinse the dishes first. Also, don't just fling them in there and force it closed--It no likey. They make slots and things for plates, you know.)
I then swept the kitchen floor and J cleaned off the table, T put everything in tupperware. M sat in the living room, staring at us.
Then he went to work. J went out with 'the ladies', whoever they are, and T and I went to bed. I slept soundly, knowing my kitchen was clean, and would be when I woke up. All I would need to do is make coffee, and I could start my day.
I was wrong. As usual.
It was like a winged badger went through my kitchen this morning. Crap all over the floor, wrappers and pop cans all over the counter, plates stacked willy-nilly in front of the coffee pot. Spilled beer on the stove.
After a small aneurysm, I cleaned it up, made coffee, and came up with new and creative swear words.
***********************************
See, this house. It's not the nicest house. BUT! It has good bones, good potential. It's in a part of town expected to have huge growth in the next few years. It has a fenced yard. T bought it with the intent of flipping it--and I agreed. (Hell, I'm the one that picked the damn thing out!) It was a rental for 10 years before we bought it--This should tell you something. (The carpet. Good, sweet Lord, the carpet.) I know my hand is stacked against me here--Four people in a three bedroom house that needs work. My refusal to live in squalor means that I clean....a lot.
We're talking about putting in pergo floors and painting (And getting rid of the damn popcorn ceiling.) as a christmas gift to ourselves. (It will be a whole.new.house.) If this happens--Oh, how the boy's lives will change. If they think I'm a pain in the ass now......ah.
*********************************************
My friend (and ex-coworker/bowling ace/chef) A told me this story last night, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. Hilarity.
So there is a group of retired men (late fifties-ish in age) who come up annually to play golf over a weekend. They leave their wives at home and get stinking drunk the whole time.
The first night, a man was shitfaced and walking down the dock to his boat, and fell into the water. (He was fine.)
The next day, everyone went to play golf, and the man who fell in the water's brother is shitfaced. He is riding in a golf cart, and decides he needs to use the restroom.
Rather than go to the actual restroom to do his business and leave everyone to wait for him, he drops his pants and hangs his ass off the edge of the moving golf cart, and proceeds to begin to...relieve himself. Well, considering he is shitfaced drunk, he falls off the golf cart, pants around his ankles, and gets his head run over.
He was fine.
Again, who does this??
Friday, September 5, 2008
More Foe-Toes
Mostly because I can.
We went to a state park by our house today, and I took pics. So here you are.
This state park was at one time a military outpost, and there are bunkers and gun stations and things all over. The whole hill is essentially hollow, and you can walk around inside all the bunkers and stuff unless you are terrified of shit like that like me.
They're bunker-ific!
T and his younger brother D atop one of the bunkers. (You all remember that T has eight siblings, right? There will be a test later. R,C,G,A,T himself, J,J,D,A. It's like a DNA sequence.)
In case you were worried what happens when you forget things--Don't. Those lost thoughts are in a state park on the west coast.
He Rules. (groan and shake your heads, I know, I know....)
But he's still a dork.
This is just cool.
Me, with wilderness hair, dressed like a school teacher. Not that that is a bad thing.
We went to a state park by our house today, and I took pics. So here you are.
This state park was at one time a military outpost, and there are bunkers and gun stations and things all over. The whole hill is essentially hollow, and you can walk around inside all the bunkers and stuff unless you are terrified of shit like that like me.
They're bunker-ific!
T and his younger brother D atop one of the bunkers. (You all remember that T has eight siblings, right? There will be a test later. R,C,G,A,T himself, J,J,D,A. It's like a DNA sequence.)
In case you were worried what happens when you forget things--Don't. Those lost thoughts are in a state park on the west coast.
He Rules. (groan and shake your heads, I know, I know....)
But he's still a dork.
This is just cool.
Me, with wilderness hair, dressed like a school teacher. Not that that is a bad thing.
How I Missed You
It's true. Since this is my second blog in less than two hours.
Anyway, I was catching up over at Wide Lawns (link to the right, kiddies. I'm a lazy 'ho.) and she had 'extended' a survey of sorts--A girl whose blog she reads wrote up a list of foods from her childhood, so Wide Lawns did the same....and you all know my feelings on food. So I am 'extending' the same list.
Prepare for boredom. Or not, whatever.
Food From My Childhood, by NeonGolden
Meals That Were in Heavy Rotation: My mom was a big fan of the pork spare-rib. I remember eating this all the damn time--and I still eat them now. They're cheap as hell, easy to cook, and you can slather them in whatever the hell you want. The only downside is that scrubbing the pan afterward is a pain in the ass. Cream cheese omelets with bacon and little green onions (still eat it), homemade burgers on english muffins, green salad EVERY NIGHT NO MATTER WHAT, tuna casserole with potato chips on top. (I thought this was the most amazing thing as a child. Potato chips? At dinner!? For shame!)
When My Mom was "Phoning that Shit in": This was like, all the damn time when I got to be about 9 or so. Mom stopped cooking/cleaning/eating and just kinda went to play varsity for the drinkers. My dad was a great cook, so before the divorce he would usually make the omelets mentioned above or apple fritters, which are amazing. My step dad was a terrible cook, so I did most of the cooking after the age of 9.5-10 or so. Lots of easy stuff, tuna casserole and the like.
Popular Side Dishes: My mom still loves the gross Lipton butter noodles out of the bag. Green salad, of course, lots of baked potatoes.
Foods My Mom Made When We Were Sick: Graveyard Stew. (My dad actually made this.) It's burned toast in sweet milk--the burned part of the toast makes the milk grey and the carbon apparently makes your tummy feel better. I hate this, with a passion. 7up and Ginger Ale.
Memorable Mentions: My mom makes the best. fucking. potato. salad. ever. Say what you want about the woman--her potato salad can kick your mom's potato salad's ass.
Weird Snacks: Ants on a Log. (Or celery with peanut butter and raisins.) Peanut Butter and Mayonnaise sandwiches. (I didn't know about PB&J until I went to school and was humiliated by my sandwich. My dad ate his with butter and ice burg lettuce as well--I hate lettuce and the butter is too salty for me.) Rice with milk, sugar and cinnamon.
Food We Had at Our Grandparents' House: My dad's mom lived the depression and was a terrible cook, so we ate some gross shit over there. Canned Peas and Raw Cabbage in Lime Jello (with mayonnaise on top), Peas and Cheese (Canned peas and cubed american cheese with, you guessed it, mayonnaise), Tomato Aspic Salad (This is what hell tastes like.), and pop-tarts. (My older cousins were obsessed with pop-tarts so my grandmother would buy them in bulk.)Lots of KFC. Grandma was obsessed with the Colonel. (Sander's Chicken, she called it.) On special occasions we would have leg of lamb with home-made macaroni and cheese (Put the gravy on the mac and cheese.) and the infamous seafood salad. (Both still major favorites of everyone still living in my clan.) My mom's mom used to make me HUGE pastrami sandwiches. I think I was the only 4 year old on this side of the country that could appreciate a good pastrami on rye.
What I Want My Mom To Make For Me Now: Corned Beef and Cabbage. Potato salad. That porkchop thing I love so much.
Best Thing I Ate as a Child By Far: Oooh. I do love me those apple fritters that my dad used to make. I also love me some left over mac and cheese.
Neither of my parents liked to bake, like, at all, so I think that's why I love it so much. I wanted cookies, so I had to teach myself how to make them. It just snowballed from there.
I really need to make those fritters. Jesus.
Anyway, I was catching up over at Wide Lawns (link to the right, kiddies. I'm a lazy 'ho.) and she had 'extended' a survey of sorts--A girl whose blog she reads wrote up a list of foods from her childhood, so Wide Lawns did the same....and you all know my feelings on food. So I am 'extending' the same list.
Prepare for boredom. Or not, whatever.
Food From My Childhood, by NeonGolden
Meals That Were in Heavy Rotation: My mom was a big fan of the pork spare-rib. I remember eating this all the damn time--and I still eat them now. They're cheap as hell, easy to cook, and you can slather them in whatever the hell you want. The only downside is that scrubbing the pan afterward is a pain in the ass. Cream cheese omelets with bacon and little green onions (still eat it), homemade burgers on english muffins, green salad EVERY NIGHT NO MATTER WHAT, tuna casserole with potato chips on top. (I thought this was the most amazing thing as a child. Potato chips? At dinner!? For shame!)
When My Mom was "Phoning that Shit in": This was like, all the damn time when I got to be about 9 or so. Mom stopped cooking/cleaning/eating and just kinda went to play varsity for the drinkers. My dad was a great cook, so before the divorce he would usually make the omelets mentioned above or apple fritters, which are amazing. My step dad was a terrible cook, so I did most of the cooking after the age of 9.5-10 or so. Lots of easy stuff, tuna casserole and the like.
Popular Side Dishes: My mom still loves the gross Lipton butter noodles out of the bag. Green salad, of course, lots of baked potatoes.
Foods My Mom Made When We Were Sick: Graveyard Stew. (My dad actually made this.) It's burned toast in sweet milk--the burned part of the toast makes the milk grey and the carbon apparently makes your tummy feel better. I hate this, with a passion. 7up and Ginger Ale.
Memorable Mentions: My mom makes the best. fucking. potato. salad. ever. Say what you want about the woman--her potato salad can kick your mom's potato salad's ass.
Weird Snacks: Ants on a Log. (Or celery with peanut butter and raisins.) Peanut Butter and Mayonnaise sandwiches. (I didn't know about PB&J until I went to school and was humiliated by my sandwich. My dad ate his with butter and ice burg lettuce as well--I hate lettuce and the butter is too salty for me.) Rice with milk, sugar and cinnamon.
Food We Had at Our Grandparents' House: My dad's mom lived the depression and was a terrible cook, so we ate some gross shit over there. Canned Peas and Raw Cabbage in Lime Jello (with mayonnaise on top), Peas and Cheese (Canned peas and cubed american cheese with, you guessed it, mayonnaise), Tomato Aspic Salad (This is what hell tastes like.), and pop-tarts. (My older cousins were obsessed with pop-tarts so my grandmother would buy them in bulk.)Lots of KFC. Grandma was obsessed with the Colonel. (Sander's Chicken, she called it.) On special occasions we would have leg of lamb with home-made macaroni and cheese (Put the gravy on the mac and cheese.) and the infamous seafood salad. (Both still major favorites of everyone still living in my clan.) My mom's mom used to make me HUGE pastrami sandwiches. I think I was the only 4 year old on this side of the country that could appreciate a good pastrami on rye.
What I Want My Mom To Make For Me Now: Corned Beef and Cabbage. Potato salad. That porkchop thing I love so much.
Best Thing I Ate as a Child By Far: Oooh. I do love me those apple fritters that my dad used to make. I also love me some left over mac and cheese.
Neither of my parents liked to bake, like, at all, so I think that's why I love it so much. I wanted cookies, so I had to teach myself how to make them. It just snowballed from there.
I really need to make those fritters. Jesus.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Princess for a Moment
I really shouldn't have bought the IPhone. But I did.
And I love it.
See, my old phone, a trusty (sort of. Well, at first it was trusty. Then it became a gigantic piece of shit so I replaced it. With the IPhone. It's all coming together now, isn't it?) blue Samsung, died a very un-heroic death....So, I mean, of course your only available course of action at that point is to buy the newest gadget with more technology than you need!
I am so enamoured with the damn thing, it's retarded.
Anyway, one of the newest features I have been abusing is the camera. I can take pictures and email them to anyone from the comfort of my car! It hooks itself up to the wireless internet in my house! (It also has Google Maps, Turn-By-Turn GPS and some other crap.)
For instance:
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242423572901716786" />
These are the Fucking Fish, in all their Fucking Glory. They aren't fucking at the moment, as they saw me approaching and assumed that I would indulge them in their other favorite past time--Eating. (It would seem that while T and I were at the condo there was something of a fish uprising against the boys. Much tank-leaping and near-biting was had. I guess someone forgot to tell J that they will do that if they are really hungry....whoops.)
This is T doing the dishes and cleaning out the refrigerator for me (Princess!!) while I sat at the computer and applied to college. Oh, did I forget to mention that I am trying to finish school? 'Cause I am. (And please pardon the wreckage. We had just returned from 10 days away.....and I'm sure you can all do the math as to what that means.)
This photo illustrates several things.
1)My future husband sure is handsome.
2)We have gross popcorn ceilings throughout our house.
3)Except, inexplicably, in the kitchen. The kitchen must think it's better than the dining room.
Anyway.....Yeah. Love the IPhone. Expect more random weird photos from my random weird life.
And I love it.
See, my old phone, a trusty (sort of. Well, at first it was trusty. Then it became a gigantic piece of shit so I replaced it. With the IPhone. It's all coming together now, isn't it?) blue Samsung, died a very un-heroic death....So, I mean, of course your only available course of action at that point is to buy the newest gadget with more technology than you need!
I am so enamoured with the damn thing, it's retarded.
Anyway, one of the newest features I have been abusing is the camera. I can take pictures and email them to anyone from the comfort of my car! It hooks itself up to the wireless internet in my house! (It also has Google Maps, Turn-By-Turn GPS and some other crap.)
For instance:
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242423572901716786" />These are the Fucking Fish, in all their Fucking Glory. They aren't fucking at the moment, as they saw me approaching and assumed that I would indulge them in their other favorite past time--Eating. (It would seem that while T and I were at the condo there was something of a fish uprising against the boys. Much tank-leaping and near-biting was had. I guess someone forgot to tell J that they will do that if they are really hungry....whoops.)
This is T doing the dishes and cleaning out the refrigerator for me (Princess!!) while I sat at the computer and applied to college. Oh, did I forget to mention that I am trying to finish school? 'Cause I am. (And please pardon the wreckage. We had just returned from 10 days away.....and I'm sure you can all do the math as to what that means.)
This photo illustrates several things.
1)My future husband sure is handsome.
2)We have gross popcorn ceilings throughout our house.
3)Except, inexplicably, in the kitchen. The kitchen must think it's better than the dining room.
Anyway.....Yeah. Love the IPhone. Expect more random weird photos from my random weird life.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
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