Monday, November 29, 2010

Chelsea is Bitchin' in the Kitchen

Holy mackerel.  I feel like I haven't blogged in over a century.  About 9,573 things happened this weekend that I could blog about.  Okay, not really - but almost.  So we'll just start with Thanksgiving - because I know people are dying to read about what I managed to cook/bake/destroy for dinner.  (Or lunch - I never really understood why people eat Thanksgiving at 2 in the afternoon and call it dinner.  I guess "Thanksgiving lunch" sounds mildly ridiculous in comparison.  Whatever.)

The stuff I made wasn't all too grandeur - no turkey, stuffing, casseroles or pies for me.  (My dad says that making turkeys is actually one of the easier things to make - to which I respectfully scoffed at in my mind.  Because I'm almost certain the day I decide to make a turkey, is the day I burn our entire house to the ground.)  No, my mother-in-law gave us about the simplest food assignment possible.  (Aside from bringing a can of cranberry sauce.)  We were in charge of the Jell-o/fruit salad.  I'm fairly certain that my dog could make a fruit salad - so I decided to kick it up a notch and try for pretzel Jell-o salad.  Sounds weird, right?  Turns out it's really yummy - and easy enough for me to make and not completely mess it up.  I say completely, because yes, I did manage to kind of mess it up.  And you can go ahead and ask my husband - I threw myself a little diva tantrum because my Jell-o salad didn't look exactly like the ones on Google Images.  I maintain that the top layer of Jell-o looked like someone chewed it all up then spit it back out on top.  (The recipe said to leave the Jell-o mixture out for a second to let it cool off a bit.  "A second" was just about a second too long and the Jell-o already started forming.  Already formed Jell-o isn't exactly easy to spread.)  So Shawn finally convinced my that my Jell-o didn't look like throw up and I kind of got over it.  The only redeeming factor is that it tasted good.  Damn good.  Check me out - Pretzel Jell-o Salad Master.

Anyways - here's the picture I took with my phone, because naturally my real camera decided to die.

  I didn't take a picture of the layers - and that's the best part.   Fear not, there will be a video.

And because this was our first Thanksgiving, and I sort of wanted to prove that I'm capable of concocting more than one edible item for Thanksgiving, we made my favorite fruit salad ever.  Snickers salad.  *Drool*  Apples, Snickers, and Cool Whip.  Oh yeah, smell the weight gain.

So, doesn't really look like much - but it's good.  Promise.  

I had been hankering to make one last thing - because clearly I'm trying to prove something here.  And let me tell you, I've never been so proud  of something that has come out of my kitchen.  I channeled my inner Martha Stewart and made some turkey cupcakes.  Because really, who eats cupcakes for Thanksgiving?  I beamed with pride as family members took pictures of my cupcakes and complimented me on how cute they were.  (It should be noted that I've been making this sound like I made everything myself.  I didn't.  My husband helped.  But I'm going to keep making it sound like I made everything.  Because it makes me feel cooler.)  Anyways, our turkeys were the star of Thanksgiving.  And you can betcher bottom dollar I found my holiday tradition.  Helloooo, Christmas cupcakes.

Again with the crappy phone quality.  My bad.

If you think those things were so meticulous that they made us a half hour late to Thanksgiving - you are so, so right.  They're super adorable though, right?  And now you're kind of jealous you didn't have turkey cupcakes at your Thanksgiving, right?

Just in case you didn't get it the first time.  We've got an Oreo, a Reese's Cup, a Whopper, Candy Corn, and frosting.  Gosh, I'm so proud.  I feel like I should have put them in a glass case purely for display.  Okay.  I'll stop now.

Anyways - Thanksgiving was good.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't really miss eating with my family though.  I missed my dad's stuffing, and Aunt Cathy's desserts, and basically everyone else's cooking - because it's better than mine.  Except for the cupcakes, obviously.  (Okay, I take that back, Cathy, you could probably make one heck of a turkey cake.  Let's have a bake off.  ;))  But I did have a good time with my husband's family, and I did get to spend time with my family as well - so it all turned out well.  It was a wonderful first Thanksgiving to spend with my husband and our families.  Wee!

And as for the video...

Don'tcha feel like you were there?

I hope you all had a superb Thanksgiving!  Welcome back to real life.  And if you're in Utah, happy shoveling that crap ton of snow off your driveway.  Three fist pumps for Winter!  (You know, or not.)

I've still got some mildly amusing things to tell you about our weekend.  Be excited.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Happy Birthday, Butt Kiss.

So since it seems I missed doing the all-elusive clich├ęd, "It's my husband's birthday so I'm going to write all the reasons why he's cool on my blog" post - I'm going to do it now.  Mostly because my husband rules.  And we all know how much I love publicly bragging about him.

So these are some of the reasons that I'm glad Shawn was born 23 whopping years ago....

He stays up and gossips with me in bed when I'm 99.9% positive he'd rather be participating in other activities.

He cleans up our bedroom carpet on hand and knee when Toby manages to sprinkle pee ev-uh-ry-where.  (I'm not even exaggerating here - you could not step anywhere without stepping in urine.  I don't even know how that's possible.  Damn canine.  *Cough*  I digress.)

He makes me lunches - usually with enough food that could feed me lunch for 4 days.

He doesn't yell at me when I ask him 8,000 questions during movies.  Yeah, I'm one of those people.

He gives me butt kisses every night.  (And I feel completely weird not explaining this.  It isn't as kinky/awkward/nasty as it sounds.  It's simply when we have to turn our separate ways to go to sleep, he taps his butt against mine and says "Butt kiss!"  ...Okay, so maybe it's a little awkward.)  But I think it's funny - and I wouldn't want a butt kiss from anyone else.  I think I just found my husband's new pet name.

He let's me post incriminating videos and pictures of him online.

He shovels the crap loads of snow off our driveway - without throwing a tantrum like his wife would.

He lets me stand under the water for the majority of our showers.

He tells me my pooch is perfect size.  Even though I'm certain I look no less than 3 months pregnant.

He teaches me about football and basketball so I don't sound like a complete tool when I talk about it with other people.  Who knew there were field goals in basketball?

He doesn't judge me when I polish 2 rows of Coconut Dreams.  (And if he does, he's smart enough to do it behind my back.)

He sits on the same side of the booth as me at restaurants.  Every time.

Among so many other reasons, of course you have all the obvious reasons.  You know, the reasons I married him - his good looks and his money.  I kid.  I love my husband more than I love anything on this earth.  Yes, more than Coconut Dreams.  He is my rock.  He is my everything.  (Careful, I'm about to break out into a country song.)  He is a better husband than I could have ever asked for - and I know he'll be an even better dad some day.  I can't think of anyone else I'd rather grow old and wrinkly with. 

I love you 947 trillion Coconut Dreams, husband.

Monday, November 22, 2010

You Care, Right?

This weekend I....

-Watched Harry Potter at the butt crack of dawn for my husband's birthday.  Behind an entire row of smokers, no less.  (And I've never read the books, but I'd just like to mention that that was the most awkward horcrux ever.  My probably-louder-than-appropriate "What. The. Hell was that?!" expressed my sentiments to my half of the theater nicely.)

-Bought presents for my husband on his birthday while he was at work.  (And just in case you're wondering, I didn't buy him a hair straightener - as much as I wanted to.  I went with a camcorder, fixing his watch, and a coupon to stay at Anniversary Inn instead.  Awesome points for me... because let's be honest, I will probably use and enjoy the camcorder and Anniversary Inn stay far more than he will.) 

-Took Shawn and myself to get massages for his birthday.  Then realized that the Health Savings Account that my company contributes money to every month would pay for it.  Then in my moment of excitement, signed up to get a massage every month.  Free massages?  I think yes.  Thanks, work.

-Took Shawn to the Jazz game - which we lost.  Go Jazz.

-Ate popcorn at said Jazz game, which an extremely plastered woman bought for us to make up for her and her very inebriated friends getting up every .3 seconds to buy more beer.

-Almost went 100% postal on 4 kids who shrieked, "Jazz rules!  Jazz rules!  Jazz rules!  Jazz rules!"  for about 20 minutes straight.  I maintain that they're the reason we lost.

-(Kind of) surprised Shawn after the Jazz game with all our friends waiting at our house to eat cake and ice cream.  Except instead of people showing up at 10 like I had asked, everyone but our neighbors and a few people (Hi Taylor, Natalie, & Angela!) showed up at 10:30.  That sort of killed the surprise part of the surprise.  But you know, whatever.  I surprised Shawn enough for his birthday last year that I barely cared. 

-Watched the Utes win.  Finally.

-Looked through an ass load of recipe books in a conscious effort to be more domestic.  Only bookmarked about 3 recipes.  I'm fairly certain the only things I can make that don't come from my freezer or a pre-packaged box are sandwiches, toast, and cereal.

-Almost tried to make a pie to practice for Thanksgiving - then quickly ditched that idea and bought some Coconut Dreams.  Drool.

-Had my first official "Who are we going to spend Thanksgiving with this year" fight with my husband.

-Had dinner at the in-laws for Shawn's birthday, at which I had the same Thanksgiving argument with my mother-in-law.

-Went with Shawn to Kohl's to try on clothes that he is going to make me wait until Christmas to wear.  And I found a stretchy elephant ring that I loved.  (Sort of looked like this one, except it wasn't 300 dollars, and was stretchy, better, and cooler.)   Shawn made fun of me.  A lot.  He said I'd never wear it.  Which is a lie.  Because if I had an elephant ring, I'd wear it all. the. damn. time.  Because who the heck has an elephant ring?    I'd go back and buy it myself, except I feel like Shawn probably bought it already.  (If he knows what's best for him, at least.  Cough.)  I wasn't lying when I said elephants are my new favorite animal.  (Not to mention stretchy rings are my new favorite thing.)

And on that note, I will stop.  Because any more notes - and I imagine you'll start shedding tears of sheer boredom.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Toby + Snow = Annoying Pet Posts

This morning we got hit with a butt-ton of snow.

Guess who loves it?

(This is about 3 of the 3,842 videos we took this morning.  I'm going easy on you here, Internet.)

Super adorable/funny/awesome/makes-you-want-a-Corgi, right?
I thought so too.

I'll be back with a post with actual substance soon. 

Happy Sunday!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Significantly Less Amusing Google Searches - Part 2

So, remember back in August when I enlightened you all with a list of search terms that had brought some pretty special people to my blog?  Well I'm proud to report that the search terms since then haven't been as totally awkward.  No high class hookers, mega boobs, or poop this time.  There's been some trends with particular topics that I've noticed, however... and because sharing is caring, I present to you (the less) Amusing Google Searches - Part 2.

First, you have what I call the "Hairliners." 

"I love good hairlines"
(I don't understand searches like this.  It's almost as if they're trying to have a conversation with Google.  You know, press search and Google responds, "Why yes, I think good hairlines are mighty lovely myself."  I imagine Google with a British accent, is that weird?)

"John Mayer receding hairline"
(I surprisingly got a few of these.  Apparently there's some people that are fairly concerned about John Mayer's do.)

"Are eggs good for receding hair?"
(I can't even imagine how long this person must have been clicking before they got to my blog.  That right there is sweet, sweet desperation.)

"Tony Horton receding hairline"
(John Mayer, you're not alone man.  You're not alone.  Also, no one cares.)

Second, you have the "Crack Pack."

"Waxing ass crack"
(I think we can all guess what post this fellow searcher found.)

"Buttcrack gay blogspot"
(Just a little awkward.)

"Buttcrack stories"
(Okay first of all, isn't butt crack two words?  Second, why are there so many people enraptured with butt cracks?!  Am I missing something?)

"Chelsey is a butt crack"
(I can only wonder what this person was hoping to find.  Thank Heavens we have search engines to vent to.)

"Pictures of Chelsea Designer Pants bum cheeks"
(I really, really just don't even know what to say to this one.)

"My mom got hugely large butt & hole"
(This one makes me dry heave every time I read it.  And again, it's like the person is trying to have a conversation with Google.  Dude, obviously Google does. not. care. about your mom's crap shoot.  Seriously.  Go to therapy.)

Third, you have the "Bruno Mars People."  (Clever, right?)

"I love Bruno Mars."
 (This person loves Bruno so much that they went through at least 25 pages to get to my blog.  I couldn't be bother to keep looking for the page my blog showed up on, because clearly I have better things to do.)

"Oompa Loompa Bruno Mars"
(I'm sad to report there aren't any amusing images in this particular search.)

"Bruno Mars” “Just the Way You Are” lyrics moustache"
(My favorite part if this is the "moustache" at the end.  What the?)

"Bruno Mars personality"
(Okay, so this one is boring.)

"Bruno Mars using P90X"
(What?  Bruno Mars uses P90X ?  Why the heck did I ever quit?!)

"Bruno Mars Just the Way You Are hypocritical"
(Sounds like someone just got dumped.)

Fourth, you have the "The Marginally Disturbed Folks."

"How to know whether I'm psycho or not"
(Insert scary theme song here. EE EE EE EE EE EE.)

"Child is obsessed with clowns"
(Somewhere out there, there's a seriously concerned parent hoping their child doesn't develop some sort of freaky fetish, or end up in a crazy house.  Google will comfort you, there there.)

Fifth, you have the "Bored/Unemployed/Miscellaneous Bunch." 

"Pumpkin that couldn't move"
(Um, isn't that sort of... all pumpkins?)

"Use Chelsea to make some rhymes"
(Kelcie...  Elsey...  Yeah, that's about it.)

"Paper shredder"
(I'm pretty sure I've mentioned a paper shredder once.  Of the almost 2 million results that search generates, I'm positive I was at least the millionth.)

"Purging racing pigeons good or bad idea"
(I'm going to be honest.  Definitely had no idea anyone raced pigeons.  Now that's it's own kind of special.)

And finally, the "Find-An-Excuse-To-Not-Do-P90X-ers."

I don't even have to quote anyone here, 13 people in the last couple months have Googled all sorts of variations of "P90X death."  People are legitimitely concerned that P90X will kill them.

And those are just some of the many searches that bring people to this slice of the internet.  I can't help but think the last search terms I showed you were exponentially funnier - which shows you just how classy my sense of humor is.  I feel like I should just start blogging about completely random crap, just to see if people will Google it... or at least have weird titles.  Because knowing what people are Googling gives me the same super-sleuth feeling that I get when I look through people's cupboards and drawers.

And I know I'm not the only one that enjoys that.   

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Ah, November.

This picture has nothing to do with my post.  It came up when I was trying to find 
something actually relevant to my post.  And was funnier than anything I was finding. 
So there.

'Tis the season... start listening to Christmas music a smidgen too early. bust out the big, comfy sweatshirts to hide the copious amounts of Halloween candy you've consumed keep warm. frequent the local 7-Eleven for hot chocolate that you pretend is better than it really is. make a butt-ton of pies/turkey/stuffing/mashed potatoes/etc. that could feed 7 small armies.  (Unless of course, you're me, then 'tis the season to buy a can of cranberry sauce.) avoid Wal Mart. start wondering what body part you'll have to sell this year to pay for Christmas. get a membership at the gym.  Or start using the gym membership you've been paying for for 6 years. suddenly find room in your heart to be grateful for things like your mundane job and your pain in the crack dog. make babies. start sending out cheesy Christmas cards.  (We may or may not have intentions to send some of our own.  Featuring me, my husband, and our dog.  That is lame.  And by lame, I mean super awesome.) wake up 30 minutes earlier, because you know the 8,347 feet of snow you got overnight will make traffic a huge, raging bitcheroo. start throwing Ugly Sweater parties.  Even though it's overdone and barely cool anymore. gain 3,948.2 pounds.  (Unless you're my husband, that is.) hope that Utah slaughters BYU in their rivalry game this year.  For more reasons than one. schedule a "Things I'm Grateful For" post. be jolly.  Fa ra ra ra ra ra ra ra raaaaaaaa.

Happy November, Internet.


Friday, November 12, 2010

Green Poop

Who misses bullets?

I do.

-Shawn and I bought a tree skirt at WalMart the other day.  Ask me if we have a tree to even put it around?  Because we sure don't.  We bought some Christmas wrapping paper too - because, why not?  Christmas is in 42 days and the only Christmas supplies we own are a tree skirt and wrapping paper.  I think my husband secretly wants to splurge on one of those horrifying Santa/snowman/penguin blow up spectacles people put on their roof.  But I sort of secretly judge people that put anything but lights on their roof.  Just saying.

-After deciding not to pimp our dog out to the ladies, we finally made the appointment to hack of Toby's manhood.  Pleasant, right?  A part of me is a little nervous he'll hate me for life afterwards.  The other part secretly wishes that Toby could understand me when I tell him that karma's a huge bitch.  (I love my dog, but sometimes I want to sell him to the circus.) 

-Remember when I posted about Shawn's birthday - and how I was such a superior individual for thinking about it so soon in advance?  Well, his birthday is next Friday - and other than giving him an all-day free ride pass for certain naked activities, I've got nothing.  

-Turns out single-handedly eating an entire Costco size bag of pretzel M&Ms turns your poop green.  For three days.  (Your welcome.)

-Speaking of Shawn's birthday - Harry Potter comes out the same day.  So naturally we are going to the midnight showing.  Oh wait.  We couldn't get tickets to the midnight.  So we're going at three o'bloody clock in the morning.   If it were any other day, this would so not be kosher.  My thoughts are, what's the point of seeing it at 3 in the morning, people have already seen it before you - it isn't cool anymore.  You may as well go the next morning.  But then again, I'm really not a die-hard Harry Potter fan.  I'd be lying if I said I've read the books.  Yeah.  I said it.  My 5th grade teacher read us the first one, and for whatever ridiculous reason, whenever a teacher reads a book to a class, I pretty much hate it.  So needless to say, I haven't tried since then.  Oh wait, I did, and couldn't get past the first 20 pages.  I've horrified plenty of people with this.  I promise I'm still a cool person though.

-Shawn held a baby for the first time in, oh, ten years.  It was adorable.  And thus my ovaries raged.

Okay, so this is a short one - because I have to go.  
Maybe it's better that way.

Happy Weekend, Internet.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

It's Hard to be Hardcore, When You Aren't.

Last weekend my husband had to take my Jeep to go to Scout Camp.  Which left me with his BMW.  I can count on one hand the amount of times I've driven a manual.  One hand.  So naturally I turned into my 5 year old alter ego and whined to my husband that if he made me drive his car, there would be casualties.  At one point I full on refused to drive his car, telling him I'd sooner roller skate to work.  Because I'd be damned if I had to learn to drive a stick in his car during stop-and-go freeway traffic by myself.  (Stubborn much?)  It's possibly the first time in recorded history that anyone has ever complained about "having" to drive a shiny, black BMW.  Shawn suggested that we switch cars with his mom for the day.  And as humiliating as that would be, it was the better alternative in my mind.  

Needless to say, I felt like a gigantic tool when I went to approach my mother in law about trading cars for the day.  I briefly considered telling her it was "Bring a Corolla to Work Day" - you know, something to save a shred of my dignity.  But naturally I went with the less dignifying, "I'm a loser and can drive a stick shift about as well as I tap dance" excuse.  Luckily my mother in law has no qualms with balling around in a BMW, not to mention she can drive the BMW.  So it was a win-win for everyone.  Except for my husband, who was sure I was going to total his mom's car.  A legitimate concern, I suppose.

  Anyways, everything went smoothly with the Corolla.  I couldn't have been more relieved to not have to worry about rolling backwards and front-ending a car, or managing to kill my engine in the middle of the freeway, or taking 5 minutes to get through a solitary green light.  But Shawn's echoing, "Don't wreck the car" got the best of me, so I went to trade back the car.  Because the only thing more awkward than having to drive your mother in law's Corolla, is wrecking your mother in law's Corolla.  Talk about a big boot off the family tree.  That's a situation no one should have to be in.

My parents were with me when I went to trade it back, because we were going to go to a movie.  (Hi, Mom & Dad!)  I felt more comfortable having them with me driving in the BMW, that way I knew I wouldn't completely terrorize the transmission.  I went to back out of the garage, and tried for eternity before I realized the E brake was still on.  That was a proud moment.  So after all systems are go, I try to reverse.  Something, mind you, I had never done until that moment.  I failed about 5 times before I got out of the car and instructed my mom to back it out before I slashed all the tires.  Not one of my finer moments.

So I get back in, and my parents are sure to strap themselves the hell in, because, they were having flashbacks of me 7 years ago, and I imagine were fairly mortified.  So we start driving, and I can make the car go, so that was a plus.  However, the car ride wasn't exactly what some might call smooth, to begin with.  So there we are, one minute my dad's in the passenger seat telling me to give it more gas, and the next thing I know both my parents are shrieking for me to put the clutch in.  Not being used to using so much damn brain power to drive a car, I was on the verge of throwing up every time I stopped on a hill, killed the engine, or had to reverse.

I'm proud to report we made it to our destination safely, though I'm sure I pissed off plenty of fellow drivers when I would just sit at green lights or stop signs.  My mom kept telling me to not worry about what everyone else was thinking.  But hello, of course I care that the broad behind me looks like she's about to bash in my windows if I don't start driving in the next .003 seconds.  Talk about pressure.  

The next day I got all sorts of brave and drove my mom and I to a family breakfast using the freeway.  Everyone has always told me freeway driving is the easiest part of driving a stick.  Yeah, maybe when you shift into the rights gears.  But for Mrs. Anxiety over here, going from 5th to 2nd gear while driving 60 miles an hour, not a total cake walk.  I'm such an effing spaz.  We finally got to our destination, with a fully functioning car and passengers.  (Though, if you know anything about the University of Utah/BYU rivalry, I drove right into University of Utah territory (on TCU game day, no less) with a big blazing Y on the back of my car.  I was seriously concerned that someone was going to take a bat to my husband's beloved car.  Luckily Max Hall wasn't right about all Utah fans.)  

Anyways, we all made it out alive.  And what would you know, I actually feel semi comfortable driving around in Shawn's car.  However I can't allow myself to feel cool yet.  Nothing is less cool than a chick who can barely get a her stupid damn car off the line.  Shawn suggested that I drive his car for the next month - and I practically laughed myself off the chair.  Drive his car during winter, when I'll be just as scared driving my Jeep around - yeah, that's a recipe for complete catastrophe.  How about I drive my Jeep, and you drive your BMW... and maybe let me occasionally sit in the driver's seat so I can relish in the looks people give me - and then we'll live happily ever after.  Mmmmkay? 

Am I the only loser that wasn't born with stick skills?  (Awkward.)
Console me, Internet.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Just In Case You Were Wondering...

I'm the broad in the chicken costume...
...the chicken costume that I have no qualms with wearing every year til the day I die. 

Apparenly we don't believe in the all-elusive "couple costumes."
Oh, and that's not a mask on Shawn's face.  Just for the record.
In any event, had there been a costume contest - we would have walked away victorious. 

Try not to be too jealous.

Friday, November 5, 2010

My Super Neat Husband - Circa 1998

Oh, Internet.  I am all too thrilled for this post.  Shawn has a DVD full of videos of him and his family from waaaay back in the day.  There were a few that I couldn't stop laughing at - only because they were adorable.  Oh, and because my husband looked like an 11 year old version of Napoleon Dynamite.

I begged him to let me share these gems with you, Internet.

He was a little hesitant, because he couldn't understand why I was laughing so hard when I watched them.  But because he loves me, and knows my self-esteem may or may not flourish when people like my blog, and is ditching me again for Scout Camp this weekend - he totally gave me permission to share a couple of my favorite videos of him as a cute, nerdy pre-teen.

You're welcome.

My favorite part of this video is around :48, when he looks really confused - and then gets extremely, boyishly excited about something we were probably all pretty excited about at one point or another in our lives. 
Nope.  I take it back.  My favorite part of this video is the freeze frame it ends on.  You better believe I laughed for about 6 minutes after that one.  Only because I love my husband dearly, of course.

Remember the N'sync days?  Man.  I would've taken N'sync over Backstreet Boys any day.  And clearly, my husband would have too.  

Joey was my favorite.  I don't really know why.  Maybe because I thought the rest of them were maybe a tiny bit girlish.  But not Joey.  He was straight up macho.  

Anyways - Joey fantasies aside, this next video is the most epic video I have of my husband.  The first video was a nice preface to what you're about to see.  

My husband is the corner of the triangle.  Just watch for the Napoleon Dynamite glasses.

Without further ado, I give you Shawn's 6th grade (maybe 5th grade) talent show...

Isn't that about the best thing ever?  Gosh, my husband rules.  That was way better than my 6th grade talent show experience - dancing to Destiny's Child.  (Unfortunately there is no incriminating video footage of that sad disaster.)

(Oh, and fellow high schoolers, can you tell who the rest of the guys are?  Aren't they adorable?)

Anyways, I have no idea if you'll find that even half as entertaining as I did.  But I loved it, and wanted to show off how cool my husband was is.  This stuff right here is proof that our kids are going to totally rule.   Except they won't have cool boy bands to mimic at talent shows.  By the time I have kids, I imagine they'll all just go up and scream into a microphone.  But that's okay, because they'll be the cutest little screamers anyone's ever seen.  Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if our kids come singing and dancing out of the womb. 

Look at me.  I brag about my dog, my husband, my house, and my unborn children.

I should probably stop while I'm ahead.

Have a happy weekend, Internet.  

Thursday, November 4, 2010

My Dog is Riveting - And You Know It.

Anyone hankering for an annoying "My pet is way cooler than your pet" post?  

Today's your lucky day.

Turns out Corgis are known for falling asleep in totally weird positions - and Toby is no exception.  Recently I've started taking pictures of him in some mildly amusing positions.  The flash on the camera usually wakes him up, and he gives me a "What the hell did you just do?" look every single time.  So a lot of the pictures are on my phone, to avoid waking him up and pissing him off.


This was under our shower curtain.  Yes, I took this picture while taking care of business.  You probably shouldn't judge me.

He apparently prefers hardwood floor over his big, expensive bed - that is not 5 feet away.

Shawn and I laughed for about 5 minutes when we saw this beauty of a pose.

This is one of my personal favorite positions.  He'll full out be sprinting and out of no where just drop down into this position and pass out.

Then he'll stand up, walk around in a circle - and end up in this position.

He loves sleeping under our table.  When we don't know where he is, this is usually where we find him.  

Apparently this corner is one of his favorites too.  It's usually where he'll sleep when we're doing our homework.

Just in case you weren't sure what gender my dog was...

The two studs of my life waiting for me to finish my homework at 1 in the morning. (Toby was sleeping, until he heard that I was taking a picture.)  My husband sleeps with his eyes kind of open - which is only  mildly creepy.

So there you have it.  The most compelling pet post ever.  This isn't even the half of it though, he sleeps under the dishwasher when I do dishes, in the laundry, on our beanbag, on my feet when I'm getting ready in the morning, and so on.  Ah, to be a puppy and do pretty much whatever the hell you want.  

I sort of feel kind of lame that I just did an entire post on where my dog sleeps.

So I'm going to stop now.

Shalom, Internet.


Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Worst. Card. Ever.

The other day I got the mail and opened an envelope to find this card:

Cute card, right?  I figured that any card with an adorable, fat baby on the front had to have something pleasant on the inside.


In no way is there anything "sunny" about someone shoving a medieval contraption up my lady business. 

I think my doctor is sorely confused.

I'm going to go call my doctor's office and tell them to send me a more accurate card  And maybe then I'll schedule my not-so-sunny appointment.

Happy Tuesday, Internet.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010


Internet, call me a Halloween Grinch, but I've decided I would rather slit my wrists and jump into the Amazon River butt naked than throw a Halloween party ever. again.

I would have been just fine to throw on some sweats, pass out awesome candy, and watch a scary movie while eating salad.  And of course you know when I say salad, I mean Kit Kat bars, hot chocolate, and Keebler's version of Samoas.  Drool

Seriously.  Keebler Coconut Dreams.  Try them.  Now.  I promise you'll eat the entire package in less than 3 hours.  Unless you have some sick allergy to coconut/chocolate/the good things in life.  Then I just feel really sad for you.

This would have been ideal, except all our friends kept suggesting that we throw a party.  Because you know, we have a house - and what better way to use a house than to invite a truck load of costumed people over to violate, talk to, and hit on each other.

Obviously we caved to peer pressure.  Mostly because I think we're still trying to prove that married people are just as fun as everyone else.  And maybe so people could come be jealous of see my house.  And maybe because I secretly wanted everyone to see how stinking cute my puppy was dressed up as Superman.  So maybe I had some ulterior motives.  My house rules, and so does my dog - can you blame me?  I'm like that irritating parent who puts the honor student bumper sticker on their car.  Except that I would never do that.  I digress.

So not a week before Halloween, we send out the classic Facebook invitations - fully aware that all the cool kids probably have about 853 other parties to attend that night.  But we didn't care, because our little  Halloween soiree was going to be off the hinges, dammit.

Out of the 250 completely random people that were invited, 20 some odd people said they'd come and 50 some odd said they might come.  Can I vent for just a second?  If you have absolutely no intention of showing up at a party, and are only checking "Might Attend" because your guilty conscience won't let you click no - don't.  I'm not going to feel bad if you say you aren't coming, I probably didn't even expect that you were going to come in the first place.  You probably could've just deleted the event and I never would have known.  Only tell me you might come, if you really have intentions of actually trying to show up.  Because when you say you might come, I buy food assuming that you might show up.  Do we understand why this is an issue?

Whew.  Glad that's off my chest.

So a couple nights before the party Shawn and I think, dang, maybe we should start thinking about this "party" we're throwing tomorrow night.  Maybe get some cooler Halloween decorations other than the lamer-than-the-"Maybe"-people plastic pumpkins we have strategically placed throughout our house.

And that's precisely when things started going down hill.  Internet, I give to you my reasons, in no particular order of importance, why I will never throw a holiday party of mass proportions ever again.

Reason #1: Parties = Unnecessary stress.
Throwing a party of any kind stresses me out as it is.  The thought of someone being bored at my party haunts me in my dreams.  I feel like I have to entertain everyone.  I wrack my brain with ideas of things for people to do - which ultimately end up being the most absurd, juvenile things ever, like painting pumpkins or frosting cookies.

Even when I do come up with something awesome, like getting a firepit for our deck and roasting marshmallows for s'mores.  Does anyone actually do that?  Not so much.  Did we have a fire going on our deck last weekend?  Yes.  Were there 2  huge bags of marshmallows, a Costco size box of graham crackers, and enough chocolate to subdue an army of pre-menstrual women?  Yes.

And Internet, what do you know - we still have every marshmallow, every graham cracker, and ever piece of chocolate - completely untouched.

Reason #2: The Mr. and I bicker like 3 year olds.
What do you get when you have an unnecessarily stressed, whiny menstruating wife and a hard-working, stubborn, perfectionist husband?  Nothing happy, that's for sure.  My dear husband wanted to change out all our electric sockets the day of, so they matched.   Respectable, but it also took way longer than expected.  I was complaining that my wrists hurt from screwing in the plates by hand (and I totally wasn't even kidding, it hurt), while he was in the other room getting electrocuted over and over (because we had to turn the power back on for our downstairs neighbors and he was too stubborn to turn it back off) - all which led to a less than pleasant rest of the afternoon, scrambling to get all the food, decorations, and costumes.  I could certainly do without the husband-wife party planning drama.

Reason #3: Things break.
We lost a picture frame, our vacuum, and a small portion of our rug.  This all due to spider webs obstructing views and ignorance that the vacuum still runs when the hose is on.  What kind of effing vacuum still vacuums when the HOSE is on.  

Reason #4: There always ends up being way too much food.
Why do people come to parties, Halloween parties, nonetheless, and not eat the food.  I swear I didn't poison it.  It's chocolate, and cookies, and chips, and pretzel M&Ms - since when did it become uncool to eat junk food for Halloween?  That isn't even counting the crap load of cream puffs we bought, Costco style, and completely forgot to set out.  Not that it would have mattered.

So you want to know what happens now?  My husband and I are left with eternities of junk food.  My ass and thighs have their own party with all the leftovers.  And I end up eating pretzel M&Ms for breakfast.

If you go to a party, eat the damn food.
If you don't want to eat it, make sure it disappears forever.

Reason #5: Friends are kind of disappointing.
We asked several people if they could help out by bringing a $5 pizza from Little Caesars.  We didn't think that it was too much to ask, since we were providing our house and everything else.  And if they couldn't swing or afford it, then I can understand.

Not a single person brought a pizza.

It's 20 minutes before our party is supposed to start and I'm running around in pajamas, wet hair, and no makeup asking the people who had already shown up if someone would mind taking my credit card to go pick up some pizzas.  Blank stares all around.  I about burst into tears at that point.  About 10 minutes later, our friend Darin and one of our downstairs neighbors graciously offered to go pick up some pizzas.  They both ended up pitching in a little bit, which I was eternally grateful for.

Reason #6: Our house went from spotless to completely trashed in 3 hours.
And there was a grand total of two people that asked if we needed help cleaning up after all was said and done.  Two people, out of the 40+ that showed up.  I've never been so severely irritated in my whole 22 years of living.

Maybe we're just bad party planners.  I don't know.  But needless to say it won't happen again.  But lest you think this whole thing was a disaster - everyone seemed to have fun.  We now have a fire pit and s'more ingredients to last us 6 lifetimes, a kick ass (last minute, overpriced) chicken costume which I fully intend on wearing every Halloween for the rest of my life, Halloween candy for next year's trick-or-treaters, and Shawn may even gain a few pounds from all the crap that was left behind.  Not too shabby, eh?

But I can promise you that next Halloween, you will find me in a chicken costume on my couch, with Keebler cookies, my husband, my dog, and a semi-scary movie.

Maybe married people aren't as fun as everyone else.

I'll be back later, hopefully with super awesome pictures.