Friday, July 30, 2010

The Beanie Controversy

Internet, my husband I need your help.

Do beanies belong in the Summer or Winter?

The comment section eagerly awaits your vote and explanation.

Clearly, this is a serious issue.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

I'm an Adult. I Promise.

Remember that one time I showed you our super cool claymation video?

Well, we finally made another one.  Though I have to say, it might not be quite as good as the first, because we didn't have our tripod, so it's at an awkward angle.  You can't really tell exactly what's going on because of said angle.  And there is like 8,943 things going on in each scene.  Oh, and the backdrop isn't nearly as kick-ass as the first one was.  (With the exception of the rising and setting sun.  That was my complete genius at work.  Except I wasn't the one moving it, so don't be surprised the sun when it zig zags across the sky.)   So, you know - just go with it.

The only thing I was in charge of was clicking the camera button.  (Which I may or may not have still managed to screw up, occasionally.)  So if you hate what goes on in the actual meat of the clip, direct those inquiries to my husband and his buddy.

Here's some pictures to preface the clip that I know you're just dying to watch.

Behold, the creations of fully grown adults.

 Here is my husband and his friend - who has a borderline creepy man-crush on him.  (Hi, Taylor.)  And here is the Funfetti cake they so proudly burned baked before creating our masterpiece.

 I made these ALL by myself.  I did not Google image "Play Doh figures."  *Cough*

I can proudly say that this genius idea came right out of my genius brain.  Egg - Chicken - Breakfast.  Get it?  I am a creator, fools.

And now for your feature presentation.

The lovely background tunage is brought to you by Reliant K's rendition of "Manic Monday."  (Remember that song?  I totally loved it once.  Ah, the 90s.)


And yes, that is dental floss holding up the butterfly at the end.  We're professionals.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Bow Chicka Bow Wow

 Are you dying to know the story behind this gem?

It goes a little something like this:

Husband starts getting frisky with wife.  Wife, not feeling particularly impassioned, swats wonderful husband away - thus earning herself even more wife points.  Husband continues to attempt to try and seduce wife.  Wife whines about being too tired.  Husband makes one final attempt to initiate the happy dance - only to be denied yet again by his prize of a wife.  Husband then proceeds to put on 624723748923748923 layers of clothing.  When wife inquires what on earth he's doing, he replies in a sad, shunned little voice:
"If I have enough clothes on, I won't be tempted to take them all off."

Funniest. married. moment. yet.

I love that my husband can feel completely rejected, and still manage to have a sense of humor.  I think he had 4 pairs of pants on, like 5 jackets, and then... well, you can see the rest.  (That's what I get for leaving my crap strung from Hell to breakfast.)  I love even more that he let me document the moment and gave me permission to share it.  (You're welcome.)

I might add that probably my favorite part of the picture is the little cameo of Jesus off to the side.  It somehow managed to strike me as extremely amusing after I took the picture.

I love my husband dearly.  His efforts don't go unrewarded.   


Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Sorry in Advance

So this one time the better of 2 hours talking myself out of throwing my computer monitor out the window trying to make my blog look pretty, only to end up with the same old white piece of turd.  Who can make it look pretty for me?  (Without charging me an arm and my firstborn to do so, preferably.)  I'm tired of using Cutest Blog on the Block, and all those fru-fru websites.  My blog is not the cutest blog on the block when every chick and her cat have the same gay polka-dot layout.  (No offense to you fellow polka-dotters.)  But seriously, I want something that is my page.  I don't need an explosion of designs, just something plain, simple, and Chelsea.  So until that happens, you are going to get a white background.  That's simple, I guess.

Anyways, I don't actually have anything noteworthy to blog about... But I guess I could try and wring out a few things.

-As you saw in my previous post, we spent our holiday weekend painting every single freaking ceiling in the house we bought.  I farumphed around a majority of the time mumbling that we should just buy a damn paint sprayer - apparently painting isn't one of my strong points.  We still have a few more things to do before we actually move in.  And by "we", I mean my husband and his company.  I still have to help paint, at least it's walls this time around.  We're getting new carpet all throughout the house, granite counter tops, new tile in the bathroom, prettier cabinets, prettier fireplace... You know, stuff that I wanted fixed before we moved in, because I'm a princess.  The best part about the house is that it has a basement apartment in it - so we'll be renting that out for a little while. Wee.

-We didn't even finish watching the Men Tell All episode of the Bachelorette last night.  It was that lame.  (Well that, and Shawn had to get up at the butt crack of dawn to work in the morning.  Ah, the life of a roofer.)

-(This is a major TMI bullet.  You were warned.)  So I took a long overdue trip to the waxer over the weekend.  After finishing the regular song and dance, she tried to talk me into getting... wait for it... a butt crack wax.  Whaaaaaa?  Since when do people wax their cracks?!  She went on some rant about how everyone has butt crack hair, and people who say they don't are lying.  And because part of me sort of wanted to be in on the "Hair Free Crack Club" and because I apparently can't say no to ladies with hot wax around my special areas, I gave in. I am positive I completely lost every ounce of dignity I ever had when the butt crack shenanigans went down.  (If you are done hearing about my hairy butt crack, feel free to move on to the next bullet.  This next mental image is not for those who are easily grossed out.  Seriously.)  I had absolutely no idea what to expect, and that's when she told me to get into fetal position on my side, knees to my chest  and when her nose was practically in my butt hole, she told me to lift my cheek with my right hand.  Oh. my. gosh.  I've never been more mortified in my entire life.  I immediately asked her what would happen if I accidentally let go of my cheek (because at this point I'm totally sweating bullets, and it's slippery).  And yes, my ass would have been glued completely shut.  So there I was, holding onto my right butt cheek for dear life (because I could not for the life of me imagine having to show up at the ER  to get my cheeks plied apart.)  And it was done, just like that.  Completely hair-free.  I don't even know what the benefits to a hairless crack are.  The only thing I've noticed is that my flatulence is way louder.  More room for vibrations, I guess.  Seriously.  I realize none of you asked to hear about this.  But, now that I can actually laugh about that one time I lost my dignity on the waxer's table, I wanted it documented.  You know, for future spawn, who will totally care about mom's hairy butt.

-Remember how I thought I was super bad ass for doing P90X?  Yeah.  That didn't last.  But, it's not because we couldn't do it.  It's because we just didn't have enough time in the day.  Those things take upwards an hour and a half.  Well Chels, why don't you just do it in the morning?  Oh.  Because I would rather swallow a stapler than drag my sorry self out of bed at 3:30am to get my butt whooped by Tony Horton.  Just saying.  I feel super gay for having to admit defeat, but we'll stick to running for now.  We'll try again in Winter when Shawn doesn't have to wake up at God-forbidden hours.

-Life is good.  I've heard that I'm too negative on here (Hi, mom!)  But really, it's good.  Things are turning out the right way, and the things that aren't, I get over.  I have an amazing husband, family, and we're financially in a place where we can get a house.  That ain't too shabby for Chelsea. 

-I really do love this blogging thing.  It totally keeps my self esteem where it should be.  Thanks for being nice to me, Internet.  Even though I tell you gross stories about my butt crack.

Happy Tuesday, Internet! 



Saturday, July 24, 2010

True Love: At It's Finest

When you're painting for 7 freaking hours, it's bound to happen.

As fate would have it... I hate painting ceilings.

Happy Weekend, Internet.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Ovary Intermission

Sooo, remember how my ovaries have been performing acrobats for the last little while?  Yeah, me too.  So one day, I had an epiphany amidst whining to my poor husband about how much I wanted to whip up a batch of love and make a baby.  Clearly I haven't convinced him that it's baby time yet.  So instead I made him choose proposed that either he could knock me up OR we could get a puppy instead, to stave off my undying desire to light my birth control on fire.  

Guess who's going to be a proud owner or the cutest dang puppy in the entire universe?
(On the sole condition that I promise to keep valiantly taking my birth control, and not feeding it to the pigeons.)

So now that Shawn has crushed my dreams of pushing a full grown infant out of my private part for the time being, he's letting me get a PUPPY.  As soon as I started looking at the classifieds  that were selling puppies, the baby hunger was instantly turned into puppy hunger.  You better believe that I've been on every dang day, looking for the most perfect puppy ever.

I know what you're thinking.  Really, I do.  Let me go ahead and list out what some or all of you are thinking.

-Why is this girl so fuh-reaking obsessed with having a baby?
-How is a puppy any different than a baby? 
-Will you even have time to properly train a puppy, let alone give it the attention it needs?
-A puppy in an apartment?  Really?
-Why not a cat?  Cats are easier.
-Oh hell, a pet-blogger.
-As a former puppy owner, you are making me stressed simply by reading this.
-Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  PUPPIES!
-How on earth does this chick's husband deal with her?
-I wish I could be more like Chelsea.  She's really fly.



-I'm not really sure.  I'm just excited to be a mom.  So sue me.
-Well, it's not.  I get my fuzzball of baby-like love - Shawn doesn't have to listen to me whine about the spawn I'm being deprived of.  Win-Win.
-I will make time.  Shawn and I are on different work schedules.  We promise we won't abandon our puppy.  And we promise that it won't grow up to pee on our neighbors and terrorize all the children.
-HaHA.  We will have a house (Surprise!) in a matter of weeks.  So there.
-Cats are lame.  And for certifiably crazy women above the age of 50.  My time will come.
-I promise I won't be be annoying about how my pet is cuter/better/funnier than yours.  At least not forever.
-My error.  Feel free to leave to press the big red X in the corner.
-I like you.  You can pet my puppy.
-I'm positive someone is paying him.
-I know you do.  It's okay.  Want to pet my puppy?

Anyways, I'm in love with the idea of having a puppy.  I realize that it will be hard work, and that I'll probably whine about it sometimes.  But, in my mind, the pros totally outweigh the cons.  And since I'm feeling super list-tastic right now - join me in my quest to inform you of why it's a good idea for Chelsea to get a puppy.


-Since I have about 2.4 friends in real life, and the rest reside in the world wide web.  This will be perfect.  Who says you can't buy love?
-My nipples will stay in tact, as they won't have to be torn to shreds in order to feed the puppy.  (Too far?)
-I don't have to get fat.
-This puppy will not be forced out my nether regions.  
-If it ends up being the most annoying damn thing in the entire world.  I can sell it.
-The puppy can run with me, and be own personal form of pepper spray.
-And as much as I like to pretend to blame my husband for being the reason I can't have babies, let's be honest - I'm not all that ready myself.  So a puppy is perfect. 

And the list goes on.  Sure, there are cons - like how stinky they get or how they massacre shoes.  But, eh.  Worse things have happened.

So, internet, what kind of puppy do you think I should get?
(EVEN if you are totally against the idea.)

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Memory Card Purge: Episode 1

So, some of you may or may not have noticed that I posted something yesterday.  And when you excitedly bolted over to my slice of the internet to see what deep, inspiring thing I had posted this time, you were sorely disappointed when there wasn't anything new.  Sorry.  Sometimes I get too ahead of myself and manage to publish a post way before I'm even close to finished with it.  Blogging is just so damn fun.

So for all of you who cried yourself to sleep because I let you down, fear not - here are all the pictures/videos from the Milne memory card that don't particularly deserve a post of their own - Version 1.  I guess the concert pictures could have maybe managed their own post, but meh - who doesn't like killing 13 birds with 1 stone?  I'll number all the pictures, for your commenting convenience.  *Cough*  Enjoy.

 Speaking of birds, remember that one time I showed you the pigeons that had shacked up on our balcony.  Turns out they left us a present.  Nay, two presents.  Oh, and that big stick totally wasn't there before - them pigeons are mighty strong sons of guns.  Or as Shawn so lovingly refers to them, "rats of the sky."

I promise my husband isn't disabled... usually.

This is from when we went on our cruise.  Totally random picture on a totally different memory card than all the others.  It almost looks like an awkward maternity picture... almost, as in I doubt I'll be growing a fetus in my hip.


One time we went to a Secondhand Serenade concert hours after returning home from Shawn's half marathon in Bryce Canyon.  He was the one who wanted to go in the first place.  So he very sweetly asked me on a date - and then proceeded to sleep through the entire thing.  

And then, naturally, I complained about it to my camera.  Because that's what I do.

Shawn and I have this friend named Darin.  Darin is an attractive single dude.  Because of this, Darin dates attractive single super models.  Meet Barbie, Darin's blind date.  (Okay, I think her name was really Molly, but that's beside the point.)  They came to aforementioned concert with us.  She seemed cool, but I secretly hated every perfectly proportioned ounce of her.  I told him he is allowed to marry someone that is just a little bit better looking than me.  I would rather not be the ugly wife by a colossal margin.  Sorry, Barbie - you're just too pulchritudinous (Thank you Thesaurus.)  Maybe next time.

If you know anything about Utah, you know that BYU fans and University of Utah fans are... well, divided.  Shawn is a die hard BYU fan. Me?  Not so much.  I come from a long line of U fans.  Anyways - one day I came home to find this flag hanging on our wall.  Nice try, husband.  But I'd sooner hang a dead moose carcass on our wall than don the BYU flag.  Needless to say it didn't last very long.

I was feeling extra domestic one morning and decided to make German Pancakes.  I have no idea if it was supposed to get that out of control - but it tasted good.  Booyah suckas, I can cook.  

Sometimes I'm awesome and shoot my husband with Nerf guns while he cleans.  (My wife points are exponentially increasing.)  Sometimes I'm so talented that I make it from here.

to here.
(Let's pretend like the toilet is clean, mmmmk?)

(Let's also pretend that I didn't just have a client walk up right as I posted the picture of the toilet, and ask me if I was a blogger.  Way to be professional, Chels.)

 Nerf guns and all, Shaw still loves me enough to make me (huge) awesome meals.  Woot.  (I am really not a fan of the word 'woot', but I just couldn't think of a better word.  Where did woot even come from?  Ahem, I digress.)

  Everybody throw your butt in the air, wave it around like you just don't caaaaare.  I have no idea what was happening with these chicks.  But it was too amusing to not take a picture.  So, if one of these bums belongs to you... sorry.  I couldn't help it.  Oh, and what the hell were you doing?

Don't even get me started on this chick's bad hair extensions.  This picture (compliments of Shawn) doesn't even do it justice - even when it's extra large.  Her and her little bee bop bestie, Paris Hilton kept me entertained at the concert while my date was sleeping.

Oh, and for you Secondhand Serenade fans... here you go.  I'm thinking he was sick or something, because he couldn't hit his high notes to save his life.  Oh, and Kevin Federline called, he wants his tank top back.  

And thus concludes the fun that is Chelsea and Shawn's camera.  

Stay tuned. 


Sunday, July 18, 2010

#186 Way to Die

I always feel like I have to have an "introductory paragraph" before I get into the meat of my post.  Sometimes I have absolutely nothing clever to say.  Sort of like now.  I have plenty of stories - so we'll see how carried away I get.

-Let's start with the weekend.  Remember that one time that I just about commit suicide in Bryce Canyon?  Yeah, that was the plan for this weekend.  The Bryce Canyon Half Marathon.  Except this time there was no way in Hell I had any intentions of participating.  The victims for this weekend would be my husband (again) and his little sister.  We took the oh-so-scenic 4 hour drive down there on Friday afternoon.  And by oh-so-scenic, I mean I would've preferred watching ice melt.  Okay, that's a bit harsh.  Utah is pretty with its mountains and cows and all.  But fellow Utahns, back me up.  It's a lame drive, for the most part.  I told Shawn to make a video of the scenery for those of you who don't understand.

(Pay no mind to my admirable double chin there in the beginning.  Oh, and Shawn's foot.)

Anyways, we finally got to our hotel.  And by hotel, I mean seriously disgusting motel.  With curtains that I'm certain were used as toilet paper once upon a time.  That, or target practice.  For real.

I'm just going to ahead and skip to the race, because everything in between is fairly insignificant.  We woke up at the butt crack of dawn so I could take some professional running pictures with a nice motel backdrop and then drop them off at the start line.  

After which I went back to the hotel room and packed everything into the car.  By the time I left to go to the finish line, I got stopped.  For an hour.  They were only letting one-way traffic go through.  So I sat on my toosh for an hour waiting for the Stop sign to turn to Slow.  By the time that happened, I knew I had missed Shawn running through the finish line - because he's sick, and runs like a mad man. Did I mention that I was waiting for an hour? I made sure to document proof that I didn't just go back to the room and sleep.  And don't worry that I sound completely sauced - slurred words and all.  Meet Chelsea, morning version.

(The van in front of me had an ad for their studio, "Curl Up and Dye" on their window.  Cute, but a little bit morbid for my taste.)

 (I even saw an entire sun rise.  That never happens.)

So, I did end up missing Shawn's big finish.  Again with the wife points.  We started driving the route that everyone had been running, and we came up on the very last person chugging along.  At the risk of sounding completely gay, I have to say that I got way emotional watching these people struggling at the tail end of the race.  Everything I felt when I ran the race last year came swarming back with full force.  Needless to say I felt like a huge loser.  Tearing up, while I sat on my ass, driving the same route everyone else was running.  Go hormone gadget, go.  Anyways, I did manage to drive past Shawn's sister, Janessa, making her way to mile 11.  

I finally got to the end and found Shawn with his cute little Finisher medal.  We both watched Janessa finish with full force, she did great!  I took some video, but half of it is aimed at the dirt, because I'm that good. 

Shawn got 2nd place in his age division. He finished a 13.1 mile race in an hour and a half. Want to know the insane part? He didn't train at all for this race. I'm positive that he could win this, or at least be in the top 3 if he actually trained for it. Way to represent the fam, love.

Here's some pictures and videos for your perusal and enjoyment.

(Janessa cracks me up.  For real.)

(Turns out Shawn's family is all tall and skinny.  I still can't decide what our kids are going to look like.)

(I told you I'm good at photography.)

Anyways, that's the Bryce Canyon trip in a nutshell.  I'm super proud of both of them - made apparent by my blatant bragging about my husband.  In efforts to keep my posts a little bit less lengthy, I'm going to keep my other super exciting stories for another day.  Please come back, internet.  You make me feel good.

Shalom, internet.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Hormones... WEE!

You know how sometimes girls cry for the most asinine and absurd reasons?

Please observe a few instances from this weekend - Love, yours truly.

1.  My friend said something directed at me in Spanish, provoking my other Spanish speaking friend to rub my stomach and say, "Congratulations!"  Whoa buddy.  I don't care who you are.  Just because I wear a pregnant fatso shirt, doesn't mean you can crack jokes about me being pregnant.  Locked myself in the bathroom after that one.  It amazes me how much guys don't think before saying dumb crap.  (And don't even get me started on the good intentioned, yet constant cracks about eating for two...)

2.  Finally saw Toy Story 3 - and while tears weren't streaming down my face, I was definitely holding them back.  I know I'm not the only one, which is why I don't feel as retarded admitting it.  However, it's much easier for me to admit that I was misty eyed in Toy Story 3, than having to explain why I was bawling during Brother Bear.  (Laaaaaaame.)

3.  Saw Knight and Day as well.  I cried out of the sheer awfulness of this movie.  (And out of pity for Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz attempting a horrific comeback.)  Okay, so I didn't really cry.  But I wanted to.  Worst. movie. ever.

3.  America's Got Talent?  Seriously?  It was the episode where everyone was finding out whether or not they made it to Hollywood.  Yeah.  I'm lame.

4.  Once upon a time I purchased the Glee soundtrack on iTunes.  I seriously don't know what my issue is.  Journey songs, every time.

5.  Last night Shawn wanted to play sports with a bunch of random people... But since I suck at sports and usually end up sitting out anyways, (not to mention the absolute hobo look I was donning) I wasn't all that thrilled at the prospect of attending (an event that was specifically for single people, I might add.)  Anyways, after trying to decide what would get him in the least trouble with me, he finally went and got his sport on.  Wrong.  A few dramatic pity tears were shed for myself as I drove home deciding which privileges he'd lose for the night.  Wife points...

Basically my hormones have been going just a tiny bit skiwampus.

However, that said - the weekend brought plenty smiles as well, lest you think I spent the entire week sobbing.  Things like...

-Buying Play-Doh for Part Two of the claymation movie we made once upon a time.
-Something that may or may not have to do with a home loan and new granite counter tops.  Shhh.
-Shawn cracking a Woody joke after seeing Toy Story.
- Not showering at all on Saturday. 
-Managing to continue to fly under the radar at church - as far as speaking in Sacrament Meeting goes.
-Hangin' out with the whole fam damily for my dad's 49th birthday.  (Hi, dad!)
-Oh, and Ashley just came and visited me at work and brought her super adorable baby boy(Small whimper.)

Anyways, there's your Monday update.  

Congé, internet.



Thursday, July 8, 2010

Bete Noire

Remember that one time I graced ya'll with my Facebook Pet Peeves?  Well as I sat on the toilet, unduly annoyed that no one had bothered to refill the empty toilet paper roll, I realized that I have so many more pet peeves to offer up.  And since the first go-round was so dang fun (and since I have absolutely nothing better to post about), lets talk about my life pet peeves.  

Shall we?

1.  Men (or anyone, really) who complain that they eat and eat and eat but they just can't gain weight.  Seriously?  Do I even need to explain why this irks me to no end?  No, not really.  I'll let my thighs and ass do the talking.

2.  People who use "How are you?" as a form of "Hello" in passing without even bothering to hear the answer.  Not that the answer would be anything but "Good" or "Fine" - no one is going to gush to the grocery store clerk about their horrible, piss-awful day.  Random people don't really care how you're doing 98% of the time.  

3.  Telemarketers in general just drive me bonkers.  But it's the telemarketers that continue to call back after I've hung up on them several times.  Clearly I am not interested in what you have to offer.  And you calling back to tell me I'm a lousy waste of space really isn't going to change my mind.

4.  Men who announce, "We're pregnant!"  Um, are you sharing a uterus?  I didn't think so.  Your wife is pregnant.  You are the sperm donor.

5.  People who say "I could care less."  Really now?  That's less effective.  I couldn't care less.  Be smart.

6.  You know when you're sitting in a class and the teacher erases the board?  You know those couple tiny lines that they manage to not erase?  Talk about OCD flareup.  The only thing I can concentrate on is the marks that weren't erased.  The rest of anything the teacher says is shot to Hades.

7.   I realize I've mentioned this all sorts of times throughout this blog.  But I really just can't stand bad spellers.  Sure, the occasional slip up is kosher.  But when you're misspelling words you should have learned in third grade - that's just not okay.  Buy a dictionary.

8.  If I'm telling a joke, and you say the punch line... we aren't friends anymore.

9.  So there you are driving along when the person in front of you decides they want to make a right hand turn - causing you to slam on your breaks, take a small nap, clip your fingernails, and wash your hair while you wait for them to execute said turn.  Turning should take 2 seconds - not 5 hours.

10.  Husband, I love you.  But beanies belong in Winter - not Summer.

11.  Bikers that piss and moan that they have the same rights as cars - but don't follow the laws of traffic.  Bikers in general just sort of irritate me.  Especially when they act as if they own the road.  Not cool.

12.  If I call you, and you don't answer - don't immediately return my call with a text.

13.  Along the same lines, if you call me and don't leave a message - don't expect me to call you back.

14.  Personalized license plates.  I just really don't think they're all that clever.

15.  Small talk.  I hate it.  Especially when it's constantly centered around the weather.  Please, just don't speak.

16.  If you're going to eat a banana, kindly remove yourself from my presence and eat it elsewhere.  The sound of chewing bananas makes me want to strangle a puppy.

17.  Wrinkly clothes.  Whether it's on me, my husband, or Joe Schmoe at the store.  It bugs.

18.  People who don't offer up a courtesy wave after butting in line in traffic are just rude.

19.  Giggly girls.  You know the ones I'm talking about.  The chicks that laugh at everything in the annoying high pitched TEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEEEEEEEEEE. 

20.  Pronouncing the word creek like crick.  Dammit, Utah.

Wow, this chick sure is bitter at a lot of crap.  Maybe she should lighten up a little bit - she isn't all that perfect either. 

Lest you think I am a perfect hypocrite - here's some things I do that I'm certain annoy the daylights out of people and render me a giant walking pet peeve:

1.  I chug milk.

2.  Oh, and I double dip.

3.  I'm the girl the wipes hair strands on the walls of the shower.

4.  I'm pretty much never on time.

5.  If I know you're trying to pass me, I'll speed up so you can't.

6.  I taste food with my eyes.  If I hate it, I won't eat it.

7.  I snore.  (Sorry, husband.)

8.  I'm blame everything I possibly can on birth control.

9.  I make illegal U-turns.

10.  I eat with my elbows on the table.

11.  I fart in elevators.

12.  I complain about being fat.

13.  I sit on the same side of the booth as my husband at restaurants.

14.  See #2 in the first section.

15.  I ask people how married life is.  (I still don't understand why this is so annoying to people?  Sometimes people can't think of anything more clever or appropriate to ask a newlywed couple.  Why is that such an issue?)

16.  I read celebrity gossip. And like it.

17.   I change songs as soon as I get bored of them - which happens a lot.

18.  I embarrass people on purpose.

19.  I tail people in hopes that they'll either drive faster or get out of my lane.

20.  I write obnoxiously long lists about pet peeves.  :)  

You still like me, right?


Monday, July 5, 2010

Award Winning Pad

Sorry if you were expecting a post full of menstruation terms and my take on different brands of party favors.  Maybe I'll do that sometime later.  (Yeah, totally just kidding.)  I promised ya'll a virtual tour of our super awesome apartment, and I've delivered.  A few things to keep in mind...

-This was done on a camera, which is why the quality is... well, not stellar.
-I'm an awful camera person.  You will find yourself having to tilt your head a few times.  My bad.
-If Shawn looks like he's humping our bean bag.  Please disregard.
-I probably spend more time on what's in our cupboards then our actual apartment.  Don't act like you aren't curious.
-In my attempt to refrain from getting too detailed, I sort of speed through everything.  It's still legit, though.

And without further ado, welcome to our hip and funky fresh home!

Oh, and I almost forgot....

So there you have it, our super marvelous home!  We love it.  And now that you're super impressed with our mad decorating skills, our stocked freezer, and our super affable pet(s?), I can't blame you for loving it too.  We love having people come over, so don't be shy.  You saw all our fun stuff, come over!  Unless, you're an internet creeper.  Or any sort of creeper for that matter.  We only require that you maybe sort of notify us.  No one needs an Elder's Quorum repeat.  Just saying.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Stop Rhyming And I Mean It......

Roses are red
Work is boring
If I don’t do something now
I will start snoring
Instead of bulleting another list sublime
I’ve decided to make this post a rhyme
I know, I know – you’re totally excited
Believe you me, I’m 6 kinds of delighted
Turns out writing gay poems is something I fancy
The only word that seems to fit here is the name Nancy
Now all you poem writers, don’t get all up in my grill
I’m not really a poem writer, so maybe you should chill

Now to begin my melodious list
And pray to God that you guys won’t be pissed
First of all I’d sure like to comment on
My dear, sweet husband, who’s name is Shawn
The other night we did agree
That with some friends we’d play some Wii
So thus began our combative duel
And upon every loss, my anger did fuel
I don’t understand why I get so upset
Why my husband and friends pose such a threat
But needless to say, after they said their goodbyes
The stupid {bad word} Wii game I did despise
I seriously hate losing and having no skill
I’m going to go ahead and blame my birth control pill
So how am I doing?
Do you love my rhymes?
Does it make you more enthused for subsequent good times?
Well fear not Internet, because I’ve got more
All sorts of rhymes I have in store
I’m not really sure how long I’ll keep trying
Cause honestly here, I’m doing some seat of the pants flying
Now that I’ve told you that my rhymes are only starting
I find myself at a loss of words, and my brain totally farting
So I’m sorry that I’m ending this short, I hope you’re not too sad
But you gotta admit 35 lines of poetry ain’t really all that bad
So if you liked the dose of rhyming fun, in a comment please do tell!
Because I would hate to put you through another post of poetic fruity hell.
...Anybody want a peanut.