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Wife. Mommy. Lover of cookies.

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RT @HonestToddler: Toddler Tip: She has a bounty of nerves underneath that "last" one. Don't worry :)

Archive: February 2005

Girl Day Redux

So I did, in fact, go shopping yesterday (again). Today, I went and got my nails done (thank God for fake nails, I don’t care what anybody says) and my brows waxed. Kevin, of course, neither noticed or particularly cared, which begs the question: Why do we, as girls, endure the torture of having hair ripped from the oh-so-sensitive follicles right above our eyelids if no one (at least not the person you care about most) notices?
Once again, I think it all goes back to vanity. That’s okay. At least I have pretty hands and a smooth, non-uni-brow.
On a somewhat related note, I have a brilliant idea. Since my car went into the shop today for a little check-up (nothing major, just fluid changes, new wiper blades, etc.), I got to thinking: Wouldn’t it be great if there was a spa of some sort attached to the mechanic? You could get a manicure, pedicure, and massage while your car was being worked on. You know, charge your batteries while we change your car’s. Now if only I knew a venture capitalist….

Holy Mother of God

It’s the weekend. I actually get a weekend. One where I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. That said, I have to clean my house tonight because I’m having a friend over tomorrow, after which we wil be…um…going to lunch and then going shopping. It’s a different kind of chore, really, but one I am looking forward to. I sure do need a girly day.
Hmmmm….I wonder if I can get in to get a manicure. Or a massage.
Ack!!!! When did I turn into a (gasp) girl??? What’s happening to me????

Heard Around Our House

Me: I’m not here only to pleasure you.
Him: No, not only. You’re also here to cook.

What to Do?

Here I am, faced with the prospect of an event (and as of two minutes ago) work free Saturday and Sunday, and I can’t think of a single thing to do. Something tells me that I’ll be burning up the Visa doing a little online shopping to get ready for our upcoming trips. I seriously cannot wait to get back to the beach house). One day, karma’s gonna kick me in the ass and wake me up from the dream that my life can sometimes be. Until then, I’m pretty f’ing lucky.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Okay. First and foremost let me say this. We are not swingers. Perhaps some people got that impression, but it is categorically untrue. Now that we’ve cleared that up, here’s the wrap-up:

I am Melania……You do a good Paris……Falalala Lala—-Trump……Shut up, I’m so very much not a diva….Okay, maybe a little bit, but the limo just made more sense…..Josh loves the rainbow drinks….Dude, I think he thinks we’re swingers!…..RICK!RickrickrickrickrickRICK!!!!!!!……How many SNL references can we possibly make in a day?……Can I get some butter with my bread pudding?……The boys got a free pass, but they failed to use it…..Merrin is a slot slut….Praline Connection…..I don’t think the table for 8 was big enough to hold all the food we ordered….Don’t bogart the hookah…..Does the same band play in all the clubs, or do they just share the playlist?….And to think, we could have had matching janitorial uniforms that said “Swinger”…..It’s wrong to sing “Sesame Street” while standing under the Hustler sign.

I’m sure that Kevin will have a much more extensive list over at his place later, but at least this is a start. And we’re really NOT swingers.

No More Aliens

The aliens have officially left my body, and I’m rested and ready for a weekend of utter debauchery in N’awlins. J, C, Kev, and I are headed out bright and early in the morning. We’ll be at Cafe Du Monde in time for beignets and coffee. Hot damn, and hallelujah!

I Don’t Remember Eating That

The fires of Hell have been unleashed in my stomach. I woke up last night at precisely 12:17AM, and proceeded to….um…..stay awake until 5:45. I finally fell asleep, and Kevin woke me up (not on purpose). Needless to say, I did something that I never….EVER….do. I called in sick to work. Usually, I schedule a “sick day” so that it’s not an inconvenience. Today, however, I called in. I think it was the best decision for all involved, really. I think it was a matter of public safety. Nobody wants me too far from a bathroom today.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed.

A La Kamel

Much like her, I, too, am driven to appreciate the good things in my life. I’ve had one hell of a week (emotionally), and like I told Kevin yesterday, the catharsis has been just what I needed. I am happier and more optimistic than I have been in ages. On that note, here’s what I like and am thankful for:
Saturday nights with J&C, followed by
Sunday breakfasts, complete with the four of us sharing the Sunday paper.
New clothes that are more girly than I am, but I like them nonetheless.
A trip to the Crescent City next weekend.
A trip to the beach in May.
Ice cold Coor’s Light.
A $20 bet that I’m going to win. (Sorry, Pat).
Morning snuggles with my dogs.
Morning snuggles with my husband.
The song “Daughters” by John Mayer.
Tommy Boy.
Maroon 5.
New lipstick.
The anticipation of the Jessica Simpson Dessert line coming soon to a Walgreen’s near you.
The list goes on, but for right now, I have a pretty damn good life.
Happy Sunday, everybody!!!!

Work or Therapy?

Sometimes we’re lucky enough to have a lull at work. These times of relaxation on the clock are rare, and we cherish them when they arrive. Today was such a day. I’m not sure how, but a lazy day managed to turn into a group therapy session (which we all needed, btw).
Personally, I realized that the events of this week were orchestrated by a higher power with a sense of humor. Maybe God IS tryin’ to tell me somethin’.

You Can Be My Wingman Anytime

So this week’s poll on asks “What do you usually eat on Super Bowl Sunday?” I’ve gotta be honest with you: I’ve never really given the matter much thought. However, since buffalo wings seem to be a staple in my husband’s diet, they won out when I went to click, beating out the (obvious) choice of nachos (heheheheheh….NACHOS!!!!). Apparently, Kevin is not alone in his obsession.
See what happens when I’m home alone on a dreary day? I actually give a damn (at least for a minute) about Food Network’s Weekly Poll.
Send help.




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