TLC’s AIN’T 2 PROUD 2 BEG. I remember seeing this video the first time, and asking my mother why their jewelry was both round and square.
And… I had my first slow dance to this song. Holy crap. I’m suddenly back in middle school, trying to make sure I don’t step on his toes. And yes, I find it hilarious that my first slow dance was to a song about cheating.
We typically have a bag full of weapons at the ready, and an SUV. Or we know people with SUVs who can help us dispose of your corpse.
Not that we think of these things. No, we’re kindly sweet women who live in a land of rainbows and unicorns that fart glitter.
Okay, a lie that big, is going to send me straight to knitter hell, where the only yarn available is Red Heart SuperSaver that sheds on everything it touches.
Friends don’t let friends use bad yarn. (If we’re military friends, we just low crawl across the room when you’re getting lucky and ask if we can join in)
The poor man just can’t get away from women who point out his gray hair. I’m going to wake up one day with my head shaved and my eyebrows dyed blue in a ninja act of revenge. And yes, I do sleep heavy enough that someone could probably shave my head without me noticing.
I realized that A) I’m older than I want to admit and B) when “my” generations music takes over the oldies station, it’s going to be Limp Bizkit and Tupac. It’s a little weird to know that the stations that used to play Diana Ross and the Jackson 5 are going to be taken over by Nelly and Biggie.
Granted, I called a song from 2000 “old school” last night, and made myself feel really old. I don’t like feeling old. It makes me run and go check for gray hair.
I can’t wait to see the Google hits today’s title brings.
I’m going to be very boring this week, as things are going on around here which need my attention ASAP or they’ll blow up. Starting with the chemistry set in the kitchen (word to the wise: never give me anything that can go boom. But, the damage is done, and I’m going to make pretty colors with the chemicals)
No, I’m actually studying for national certification. This way, I can poke people all over our great country and no one can get mad. Except maybe the people I poke, as I know I hate be stuck with anything sharp.
And, if I’d known that world-class choreographers would go to prisons to teach inmates to dance, I’d have gotten my ass sent to prison.
Thank Bob its Friday. This week has been… interesting. It’s been up and down and sideways and I think we even hit inverted zero-G at some point. I did not like it.
I did get a little bit of good news this week, and I’m going to ride that wave of “yippee!” for as long as possible.
I feel like I’m back in the Arctic Circle when I step outside; the temperature here has dropped considerably from when I came back down South, and while my dog loves it, I hate that stabby-cold that attacks my ears and the tip of my nose.
And, quick show of hands, how many women have cut their own hair? I’m not talking about trimming up your own bangs, no no, I’m talking a full out attack on your head. Last time I did damage to my own locks, it was about five and a half years ago, and I took my buddy’s trimmer to my head. Hair all over the bathroom- it looked like I’d killed Big Foot in the room.
I’ve since gotten over the urges to cut my hair during stressful situations, but I’m just wondering if anyone else has ever succumbed.
I never thought I’d be one to go to the gym, not when it is just as easy to walk around my city and get the same sort of work out.
But, I do, and I still walk around the city, but that has nothing to do with now.
A gym is a place where, no matter how amazingly hot you are in the real world, you’re going to end up red-faced and sweaty by the time you leave. It’s an equalizer of sorts.
And it’s also a reality check. I was sweating my way through a session on the elliptical machine (oh, how I loathe it) and notice two women come in. Now, at first glance, they looked like the sort of woman who goes “OMG, I ate 200 calories today! I’m so fat!” You know the kind, you just want to stab them in the forehead?
Then I got a closer look at them… and decided there needs to be ground rules for the gym.
1.) If you have any part of your body showing that resembles cottage cheese, rethink your wardrobe choices. I won’t show you my cellulite, you don’t show me your cellulite.
2.) Please do not hang off the treadmill console. I worry that your grip will slip off, you’ll fall down, and then I’ll have to perform CPR as you bleed all over the floor. And, it makes you look like a doofus.
3.) While I’m glad you’re excited to work out, please do not scream “Get some!” as you’re running on the treadmill at 100 mph. It’s distracting, and I might be forced to beat you to death with my tiny little iPod. I support you letting everyone know you’re the god of running, but please, use your inside voice for the announcements.
4.) Do not huff about someone stealing “your” machine in the gym. There are several pieces of the same equipment, just use a different one. Or, you could ask politely if the person on “your” machine will move.
And anyone else find it weird when someone stares at themselves in the mirror when they work out? I avoid the mirrors because I know exactly what I look like when I sweat, and I don’t want to see it.
And, I’m once again without water.
Am I cursed with the Tuesdays? Monday was suck-tastic, as I’m sure your Monday was as well, but Tuesday is supposed to be a good day! Then Wednesday is Hump Day (and me without anything to hump, so Wednesdays aren’t so great for me), Thursday it’s almost the weekend, and Friday night you can party.
Methinks Fate is not happy with me for some reason. Fickle bitch.
Amy got me saying this last night, and it’s still circling around my head today. I will blame the Monday for such things, and hope it goes away.
I would love to say I spent the weekend writing, and knocking word counts out of the park… but I did not. I spent the weekend cleaning, and knitting, and looking up recipes I want to make. One benefit to Husband being deployed is that I can cook anything; he’s very picky and very narrow minded in his food choices, which makes for very bland menus when he’s home. And he’s not one to just accept grilled cheese and tomato soup as a dinner.
I’m test knitting a hood for myself, because I want to make it for D’s mom. I love her (D’s mom) and like to make things, so it’s perfect. It’s an easy enough pattern, and its done in super bulky yarn, so it’s going fast. I just hate three-needle bind offs (which this calls for) and I’m a perfectionist, so I will have to do the dreaded bind off.
I knew when I saw the book PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES that things were… not as they seemed. In fact, I’m sure that Ms. Austen never thought of zombies, and while it’s rather funny to imagine Mr. Darcy fending off a flesh-starved decayed corpse, I’m not sure he’s the right sort of man for the job. Col. Brandon on the other hand, him I can see fending off zombies. I’m not knocking the book, as I’ve never read it, but now there are many more coming out that make me shake my head at the title.