Wednesday Wonderings

Can I just say that I am ROCKING the alliteration this week! What's up now?

Have you ever sat down to watch T.V. and think to yourself, I can enjoy about 15 minutes of not doing a damn thing before I need to take care of a few things before sitting down to a Spurs game and a glass of wine. Then you wake up 2 hours later feeling like someone slipped you a roofie, not knowing where you are, what time it is, how you got in this position, and where did your bra go? I had put the Smoodge to bed this evening and sat down on the couch to do just that at about 7:15pm, then woke up laying face down on the couch with my feet hanging over the arm at about 9:30pm. At some point during this bout of unconsciousness I had taken my bra off and flung it onto the coffee table. So I got all the affects of the roofie, but none of the fun. BOOO!

What is it about fresh cat litter that invites the psycho kitty to take the biggest smelliest crap ever? I change the litter this evening, because I learned my lesson here about all of that, take the trash outside, come back in, and get slapped in the nostrils with the foul odor of cat ass. Nice. Also, I'm not sure what cat urine is made of, but I'm pretty sure it will peel your flesh off if you were ever to touch it. I think that's why the litter is so absorbent, because otherwise it would be a law that cats be branded with a hazardous waste icon on their bums, and then PETA would get mad, and it would be a mess, and who really wants to deal with PETA anyway? And for the record, while his eyes are REALLY blue, and most people would rationalize that the reason they are red in the photo is due to red eye, I attribute it to the fact that he really IS a spawn of the devil, and the camera has done it's job of capturing his soul.

Ever feel like making an inter-office booty call? That's probably about the time you realize times is bad, the end is near.

I had a Britney Spears moment last night and cut my bangs.
And not in a good way. Apparently I forgot to take my meds and hide all the sharp objects in the house. I feel like I have two options now. Either cut the rest of it into a mullet or wear headbands until it grows out. I'm totally blaming this bad call on the worlds most disgusting wine. And although I didn't drink any of it last night, I'm convinced that part of the after affects of said nastiness include not only the inability to operate heavy machinery, but also the inability to make good hair decisions.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

You're icky and that's sad.

I don't normally do any sort of political posting.  I simply don't have time to brush up on stuff like I used to pre-toddler.  Point is, if you read past this paragraph, and you get pissed off, don't say you weren't warned.  This coming Tuesday is going to be a big day in the history of this great country.  And regardless of how you voted, you can't help but admit that it's exciting times.  For once, in our life times, we get to be a part of a huge moment that didn't involve the death of millions of people.  Or of Brad and Angelina adopting another shade of kid. That being said, Barack Obama is just a man.  Regardless of the color of his skin, he is not going to cure the economy, he is not going to stop the fighting, he is not going to banish unemployment, and he is not going to house the homeless.  Sure, he may take steps towards that, but realistically, until he is in office for more than just one term, those steps won't even begin to matter.  The econ
Read more

Self Debate

Today is the first day of four that The Smoodge has visitation with her dad.  Well, potentially four.  Until she turns three, we have an interesting visitation schedule.  For the last two years, he gets her on his days off, from 7:30am until 5pm.  The exception of that is the weekends, which he only gets the first weekend he's off in the month.  Once she turns two, he gets one 24 hour period with her a month, and when she's two and a half, he gets one 48 hour period with her a month.  Once she turns three, we'll go to standard visitation.  To make it weirder, his schedule is one where he works five days, with four days off, then five more days, with four days off, then SIX days, then four days off, repeat. I'll give you a minute to do that math. All caught up?  Fantastic, let's move on.  The Smoodge turns 2 next month.  Which means as of this moment, no overnights.  Next month?  One overnight.  This month?  None.  November?  One.  October?  None.  Right now-....okay
Read more

She's Tired Too...

...or you could title this, How I Lost My Mother of the Year Award. Did you notice the food on her chest? That's my girl! Also, is it bad that I held the camera and laughed despite her being perilously close to falling out of her chair?
Read more