We purchased a garbage can today. [I’m sorry, did you just roll your eyes and mutter, “that is not blog worthy”? You are *obviously* not aware what this garbage can means to me. Or what it took to get it. Or why we went two and a half months without one at all.]
It’s all because of the mister. [And love squabbles are always blog worthy. :: eye roll :: ]*
First there was the $4.99 garbage can I picked up at Target the week we moved in. We chose not to bring up our old garbage can since it was broken and had several tears in the plastic that... Read more
I should’ve spent the last hour grading papers. I should’ve cleaned the kitchen. I should’ve made something to eat aside from cheese and crackers (again). And I should’ve paid bills.
I wonder how long you people will have to tell me “Congratulations! You’re pregnant!” because I think I don’t believe you. I think it’s new news every time I pee on a stick, get an ultrasound, hear the heartbeat. It’s like I don’t remember that I keep puking in... Read more
It’s not as romantic as “Betty Davis Eyes.” Instead, think old people eating food and a tad drips on the side of their mouth but they’re unaware, so they continue to eat. And drip. And never ever use a napkin.
It’s kinda like that.
I noticed last night when trying to read the contents of a spreadable cheese for “pasteurization,” I was holding the container at arm’s length. Actually, I was holding the container and moving my head around while trying to focus on the tiny tiny print. “Damn, this is tiny tiny print,” I... Read more
If the bible doesn’t come right out and say, “Thou lovest me even when I was froglike in the waters of amnio,” it should. Maybe in the old testiment right next to the Psalms. Or maybe it actually is in Proverbs. If it’s not we should all pencil it in. ‘Cause really.
After nightsweats and nightmarish visions of sliding to the doctor today, I woke up to find out they were more like premonitions than nightmares. With several inches of snow and a lovely sheet of ice beneath it, we hauled the family in to the hail and ice and braved what would commonly be... Read more
I admit I’m a wee bit preoccupied with things of the uterus, gagging, farts and boobs (mostly mine). You wouldn’t think this would be the prerequisite for the line, “which reminds me of that time…” but it is. Did I ever tell you about that time… (stop me if you heard this)...
One Thanksgiving a long long time ago, perhaps 15 years or so, The Pre-Flinger Family were in Salem (that’s in Oregon.. pronounce OR-GAN) visiting the Ancient Flingers. As it was, the Ancient Flinger’s home was booked full of relatives so the Pre-Flinger... Read more
Is it wrong that I woke up this morning to see the lovely white stuff and say, ‘Crap! It better not stick tomorrow. I have to get to the OB!”Read more
The turkey is in the freezer. Turkey day is T minus 20 hours AND THE TURKEY IS IN THE FREEZER.
Also, we have the wrong rolls.
I’ve been retching and farting all day and have done diddly or squat with the house. As in cleaning. Or picking up. Or destinking.
I know you’re horribly sorry you didn’t get an invite but trust me, you will have a lovely holiday with a NON frozen turkey. At a house where people care and hostess. And have... Read more
(And you thought I wasn’t going to talk about this pregnancy all the time. HA! If I could do anything aside from dry heave over a sink all day, perhaps I’d go out and get some actual material. Instead, you’re stuck with gagging and farts. Welcome to my world.)
The list of reasons why I am NOT a great pregnant lady are growing (much like my bra size, ass, thighs and belly):
Write down, “emotional” but mean “hypersensitive to the point she will cry in public at the sight of a baby because SHE WANTS ONE. Remind her she is pregnant.”... Read more
I have a series of before and after photos I thought I’d share. You may want to sit down and start drinking. It could get ugly.
First, I’ll start with the easy one. Here we have the previous “toy storage solution” since we moved in to the new condo and delegated the toy chest for shoes. (don’t ask) Yes, we delegated the storage bin formerly known as “toy box” to dirty ol’ shoes. It’s how we roll.