The Problem of Leisure...

A few years back I lost a lot of weight. I did it this way: eat less, eat less junk, work out a lot. A lot lot. It worked really well and I got used to being on the thin side and eventually I started eating a bit more and nothing happened. Then I ate a bit more and nothing happened. Then I sort of lost my mind and, whomp, pounds attached themselves to my ass. It's not much weight but it's enough to annoy me, especially when my clothes stopped fitting so well. That's a hard lesson, my friends. I recently tried on a cute little black shift dress that used to hang off me just so and it now clings in a way that reminds me of Mariah Carey's entire wardrobe. (For some reason she likes to wear dresses meant for someone a size or two smaller and I don't want to be that girl.)

On Sunday I had to run out and I tried to throw on a pair of jeans. I was still in the middle of the throwing/hoisting part when Kenny walked in and raised his eyebrows.

"Honey...what are you doing?"

"My jeans! They don't fit!"

"Wow...they are a little snug."

WRONG ANSWER. I think I might have told him to shut up before slamming the door in his face. That wasn't nice and it's not his fault that I had spinach dip, cake and fried chicken for dinner Friday night. In that order. (I was at a party! Normally I would save the cake for last.) Anyway, I am turning over a new leaf and going back to Downersville where sandwiches lack cheese and a glass of wine is actually a singular thing, not a long drawn out process of topping off. I weep.

Just Can't Get Enough.

Ya'll are too nice. For those who asked, I got the pens at CVS. I might have to go buy the rest of them today, for reals.

The latest incredibly stupid installment, featuring my thumb, is here:



The cats, all three of them, really really hate the skull pens. They hear that clicky noise and get really angry. Cats have absolutely no sense of humor.

PS. I Made That Pie.

Last Thursday was a weirdly frustrating day with way too many things I had to do, errands to run, meetings to attend. The day ended with an asshole of a thunderstorm that hung around for hours and didn't stop keeping me awake until 2 goddamn 30 in the morning. Jack. Ass.

Anyway, one really great thing did happen on Thursday, a life-changing thing. I went to the drug store to pick up some stuff and wandered through the "back to school" section because who doesn't want school supplies? There's something renewing and fresh about brand new notebooks and pencils and lunch boxes, isn't there? I miss getting new school supplies. Mixed in among the supplies was a bucket of the most incredible thing I'd ever clapped eyes on: metallic rock'em sock'em skull robot fighting pens. I KNOW. I grabbed two of them and hugged them to me before the rest of the world caught on. $1.49 each for that kind of joy? A bargain!

Surprisingly, nobody else I showed them to seemed very impressed. Maybe they were all just stunned and jealous? I don't know. I took the fighting skulls home to Kenny and finally got the reaction I wanted - his eyes lit up. We had a great time fighting each other (and the cats, who hate the skull fighting pens. A lot.) The morning after the storm I was woken up by a tiny metallic fist punching me repeatedly in the chin.

We plotted and planned and came up with new and fascinating scenarios in which the fighting skulls were featured. On Monday night we finally got around to, uh, writing with them and discovered that OMFG THEY LIGHT UP TOO. I cannot believe that so much technology can be had for such a low, low price.

Last night, we up and lost our minds. Enjoy:

Subtle innuendos follow...

Every morning on my drive in to work I pass by a house that has two garden gnomes, both of them placed tantalizingly close the road. Those folks are either really trusting or really stupid because every morning I quietly plot the best method for stealth garden gnome removal and then I remember that I'm an adult and taking other people's stuff is called "stealing." Stupid, all the things I didn't do when I was young enough to not go to jail for them.

I think my age is catching up with me but I wouldn't actually know because I forgot how old I was the other night. Not, like, for a second but for a while. I was too embarrassed by my own self to do the math, so instead I had the following inner-monologue chat:

"Wait, how old am I? 35 or 36?"

"Do the math."

"No! I refuse to admit that I don't know this off the top of my head. I'm definitely 36."

"Are you sure?"

"Wait, no, duh I'm 35...or 36."

"uh."

"Sheesh, I'm so dumb! I'm absolutely 36."

And then I went to sleep.



PS. I'm 35.

No, Heather, it's Heather's turn. Heather?

Redacted.

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation

My friend Marianne and I are a genius team and together we can really do anything. Below is a lesson we'd like to share with you. Marianne's comments are in italics.

Brilliant and Efficient Eight Step Method for Opening a Bottle of Wine (a job for a minimum of 2 people):

1) Using a crappy corkscrew (this is KEY, if the corkscrew works properly this method will be totally ineffective), screw all the way through the cork and then pull.

2) The corkscrew will have pulled out completely, leaving a reamed-out cork still firmly in the bottle. This is exactly how you want it.

3) Finding that the wine won't do more than dribble out of the hole in the cork (dirty!), jam a pencil firmly in it, getting it stuck without actually budging the cork, also possibly tainting the wine with pencil lead--delicious!

4) Proceed to laughing your ass off to the point where you're gasping for air and bent over double. Trying to explain brilliance of pencil method will only be met with derision, don't even attempt it.

5) Remove the pencil with brute force.

6) Briefly flirt with the temptation to use a paring knife to carve out the cork, and then come to your senses and move on to the most obvious choice-- a wooden spoon. Take the handle end of the spoon and jam it into the cork so that the cork comes loose in the bottle but is also stuck on the spoon handle. Do not panic! If you try to pull the spoon out and the cork just becomes wedged in the neck again, you know you've done it right.

7) Gather these things: a small sieve, a coffee filter, a camera, half a roll of paper towels.

8) Take a picture while a friend simultaneously holds the spoon/cork free of the bottle neck and pours the wine into a coffee-filter lined sieve for the best possible cork and pencil lead-free wine.

Drink! (Really!)

Hey! We need a new "it" girl and you can be it.

Well now, I'm back at work after two weeks off. There is no finer way to say it than: "this sucks." Last night Kenny determined there was no way I could go back to work because he was pretty sure I'd gone feral. I completely agree with him and contemplated eating an apple ala Mr. Peepers on my desk wearing only a loin cloth. Do you think I'd get fired for that?

I'm pretty sure vacation rules more than work, is all I'm saying. Speaking of vacation, here are a few pictures from my Internet Dork Camp weekend:

The obligatory "we're on a boat and can go real fast" picture. This was taken by Emily, which is why she ain't pitchured. Here she is, though:

Here we are at dinner, all clean and showered, which turned out to be fleeting because we kind of blew out the bathroom. The water was gushing from the shower and the toilet and had to be turned off and sopped up with a million towels. That cabin had so many towels! Really, thank God for towels.

Vacation is really mostly about dessert - how much and how fucking awesome:

On Saturday it rained:

But the sun came out on Sunday so I stayed an extra day and spent the afternoon on the boat with a glass of wine and the new Harry Potter book. Can you think of a better way to spend a day? I can't.

Reparo! Scourgify!

Last night I stayed up way too late and finished the new Harry Potter book. What am I supposed to do now? I feel empty...and bereft. It was so good and now it's over and I am sad. Seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do now?

I've had nearly two weeks off and I've got lots to tell you guys but I'm too full of HP malaise to bother. It's bad. I would be all braggy and post Camp, Part III pictures but I don't have them back yet, so instead you get a very fascinating pictorial of the Bathroom Project. As soon as I get my wand and learn some spells i'm going to find and stupify the woman who though that purple plaster was the most excellent choice for the bathroom walls. Fuck it. Avada Kedavra, lady.

Anyway, I've been suffering from crappy headaches all week (sinus? migraine? who knows?) so I just got to chipping away at it today. Here's the progress:



And here's the rest of that side of the wall:


I have a lot to do. Here's a closeup of the crappy plaster nightmare:



And the crazy-ass dust mess I made. Can't you just taste the lead paint?




And just for kicks, here's a picture of my favorite photo of me and my mom:



Now you all know what I look like naked. Enjoy, you pervs.