"Never Have I Been So Bored By Corn"

I don't know why this comic spoke to me, but seriously, I love it. I'm not sure which kind of road trip driver I am, though. I think that I am more of the NEVER STOP variety, but only rarely. Because normally I'm all about a stop at a farmers' market or apple orchard. Or WINERY.

Clicky for readability!

I was also reminded of Awesome Old Roommate Jenny, because I feel that this would be us. Except that we both would have wanted to stop to see the county's largest mozzarella ball or something. Anything food or drink related, I think. That's just the kind of girls we are.

(And just a reminder that Dinosaur Comics is my daily crack. Check it every day!)

All in the SAME DAY!

OMG a deer!
At noon. On the corner of a busy intersection!

And then, walking to work after lunch?
OMG ducks! And squirrel!

And THEN, walking home from the bus stop?
OMG a bunny!

Basically, it was a pretty awesome day.
You know, nature-wise.

Scenes From My Deck

I took a half day on Friday and had a few hours to kill before an appointment, so I spent some time out on my deck. It was a perfect, sunny, zero-humidity kind of day, and I almost fell asleep out there.

Here are some of the views from my position on the chaise lounge...



Oh, and I'm attempting to grow some basil. It's on the other side of the deck. LOOK AT THE PRETTY:

EAT ME.

Exasperated.

So, Mr. Happy Dinosaur got into the scotch.

Does anyone know the best way to spot-clean a stuffed dinosaur? Because he smells like the town drunk.

What you lookin' at? I am millions of years old.
I CAN HOLD MY LIQUOR, BITCHES.

Zombieland

Hmmm. I wasn't looking for much in Zombieland. All I wanted was to be entertained, and I was.

Of course, after about six minutes, Mike got bored/annoyed and plugged in his iPod. But I enjoyed it!

Zombies are taking over the world, and it's every human for himself. Or herself, as it turns out. We learn the rules for survival quickly via the main character's (Columbus, played by Jesse Eisenburg) voiceover: cardio, to outrun/outplay the zombies; avoiding bathrooms, as zombies take advantage of you at your most vulnerable state; check the back seat, as zombies can sneak up on you; and more. The whole thing is very tongue-in-cheek, which is the attitude you must adopt when life takes on a whole new meaning in a zombie world.

Columbus soon encounters Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, who just wants to enjoy his life in a world undone. They are eventually outsmarted by Wichita and Little Rock, sisters who are in the same boat as them - just a little meaner.

Eisenburg charmed me in Adventureland, and I probably wouldn't have bothered with this film if it hadn't been for him. Even the promise of Harrelson acting like, well, Woody Harrelson, wasn't completely appealing. I've liked him since Cheers, and I liked him more when he was on Will & Grace, but his hippie pothead schtick is starting to get old. Luckily, his "character" was more of a badass than I expected.

Zombieland is not twist-filled, and it's pretty predictable, but it has heart and clever, witty dialogue. The acting is good and rarely over-the-top, and the soundtrack is fun.

Of course, there is an awesome cameo appearance that remains the best reason to watch this film, and that cameo is Bill Murray. And that's all I am going to say about that, because his scenes are the best parts of this film.

Zombieland is fun and entertaining, and it's worth a go on Netflix.

Hoarders

My dad is adorable - he keeps everything. And I'm not just saying that to make a point or to sound over-the-top. He really keeps everything. He's not a hoarder like those horrifying people on A&E, but he tends to both worry about not having something (..."if I throw it out, I might need it someday!") as well as attaching sentimental meaning to things. But I do think that if we ever had him on that Clean House show, where people are forced to choose between things to keep, sell, or toss, he would have a complete psychological breakdown.

I was at my parents' house the other day, rummaging through a drawer looking for an acceptable pen (like me, my dad hides the good pens because they are his and are only to be used for important documents and Heaven forbid anyone else touches them because obviously the pens will end up missing, and oh, by the way, they are BIC PENS, which cost like, three cents or something, so, welcome to my nightmare!), and I found a note.

Not just any note. No, this note was of the sort that one would leave for his/her parents when leaving the house for a short, unplanned while.

It said, "Daddy, I'm going to the park with Becky. Love, Heather"

At first glance, I was able to gather a few clues. I clearly wrote this when I lived at home, because I don't know that I would need to leave a note for my dad now.

I know that it had to have been when I was about ten or eleven, because I was only friends with Becky through about sixth grade because she got weird and I was too cool for school and apparently I've just pinpointed the moment when I became the asshole I am today.

Also, it was written on the back of a coupon from one of those Val-pak mailers, and the coupon was for a store in our hometown that hasn't existed for years.

Finally, when I was ten years old, it was 1990.

Currently, what is the year? 2010. DO THE MATH, PEOPLE.

Sigh.

So basically, what I am trying to say is that I come by my behavior honestly.

I was cleaning out a box of crap, because I KEEP EVERYTHING TOO, OMG I AM MY FATHER, and I found these. I don't know if you remember the episode of South Park, but it was one when all of the kids were put on Ritalin and Cartman kept seeing a Christina Aguilera monster. I was in college at the time and I remember making some CAMs of my own. And now I have found them once again.

Here is the South Park monster:



And here is my creation:

For some reason, I was convinced that the CAM had wings.

Also, I made more than one:

One of the CAMs has different hair extensions!

Anyway, I think that I've had these long enough. They've been with me for about ten years, and I think that it's time I just let go. If anyone wants them, let me know. Otherwise, they're going for a trip. TO THE GARBAGE. (Which, coincidentally, is where the CAM's career seems to have gone. But at least she hasn't shaved her head. Yet.)

Ha Ha Ha PSYCH

Yeah, I didn't do anything this weekend, unless watching like, ten episodes of Lost counts as "doing something."

But I was summoned to a certain place for my cousin's son's second birthday party (changed at the last minute from my aunt's house to a place of unholy terror).

Here are some hints:



So... see you soon...? !! ??!?!

Almost Caught Up

I have all these posts that I started and never finished and all I want to do is PLEASE YOU PEOPLE, because what else do I have to live for, anyway, and I am almost caught up, but there is still a good amount of editing to do, trust me. You wouldn't want me to post the following:

"And then I went to the grocery store and got the pretzels and ice cream."

When it could be something like this:

"On my way home, I stopped at the market for my latest addictions (besides the crack): creamsicles and butter snap pretzels, which, as it turns out, aren't actually all that bad for you. I can't say the same for the fucking creamsicles, though. Dammit."

You see? Flowery and descriptive plus swearing? Awesome.

So that's what this weekend is for! Writing reviews of several films and books that should have been written months ago, and reworking the insanity that my brain cooked up as I typed in a stream-of-consciousness kind of way. Well, the weekend is also for drinking by Mike's pool for two days straight while he golfs. If this is not the life, then tell me WHAT IS? I am asking you. You people.

BUT FIRST. I saw a sweet little bird on the side of the road when I was driving today*, so when I was stuck at a red light (for what seemed like eternity plus three days), I snapped a picture.

Hello, I am a KILLDEER.
My name suggests that I am a murderous bird of rage!
Except I'm not really.

*In full disclosure, I am posting this on June 24th, but backdating it to the 19th because I am insanely OCD like that, and things need to be IN ORDER or else I probably won't be able to sleep and such, and you wouldn't want that, now would you, internet friends?

It's Not My Fault that I Still Actually Like Childhood Foods

(I only eat Maruchan. Top Ramen is shit.)
(I also only date guys who drink Snapple.)

I love ramen noodles. Love. Of course, I only know how to make soup. My friend Gabe can make ramen in all kinds of neat ways, and I should really ask him about that.

Well, I also love fish sticks. I grew up eating them. With green beans and apple juice, it's basically a perfect meal. I know that I love to cook gourmet-like most of the time, and that this probably sounds ridiculous, but give me fish sticks and it's like a trip back in time.

So I was fucking around on CNN this morning and saw a recall for SpaghettiOs and now I am sad. I LOVE THEM and I know that I had some the other weekend (I keep some at Mike's to keep me from going out and getting take out. It's basically the same thing anyway, but at least I'm saving gas money.)

Why do I love these foods? What is wrong with me? I go on and on to people (mostly Mike, the poor guy) about eating as few processed foods as possible, but these are guilty pleasures, I suppose.

Anyway, they're trying to kill me. Maybe I should take the hint.

Evil in a can.

AND THEN. And then I got an automated call from Kroger, saying that they were pretty sure I had purchased a can (or six) (or whatever) of SpaghettiOs and that I should definitely NOT EAT ANY because the meatballs may have been undercooked and I COULD DIE.

Okay, the message lady didn't say that I was going to die. She did say that I should bring any cans back to Kroger for a full refund. Mike thinks I'm insane, but I want my $1.69 back!

Oh, and by the way? It's super awesome that I already ate some.

Damn me and my zest for childhood food memories.

Temporary Jobs... and You!

I have a great job. It's my dream job, really. Well. It would be my dream job if it were full time and allowed me to pay for things like rent. And food. And wine. Until it converts to full time - which probably won't be for another six months to a year - I've been working part-time temp jobs at the University.

Temp jobs are amazing. You never really do anything important (please see: coffee necklaces), there is a HUGE amount of downtime, and you almost feel guilty for accepting money in exchange for showing up.

One of the most satisfying things about temping are the times when they discover that you know how to do something correctly, and they go batshit insane. Basically, they are amazed that you know how to turn on a computer. When you reveal your knowledge of basic computer systems and programs, it's like a religious experience for them. In one temp job, I printed a page of labels and you would have thought that I'd found a cure for cancer.

If you receive and complete a project in the same day, they are beside themselves. BESIDE THEMSELVES.

It's a bit of an ego boost, to be honest, but I still feel like a lump just sitting around for four hours a day. I feel guilty that they are paying me to do nothing. I feel annoyed that I am at work at 7:45 in the morning when I could be at home in bed. I feel like I am only there to fill a chair. But it's really easy to get over all of those things, because there are fun things, too!

One woman has her phone's ring tone set as a woman's voice. Instead of a spine-jarring ring, it says, "Are you there? Are you there? Are you there?" It makes me laugh every time, until about the third ring. I start to get annoyed. What's even better is that she NEVER seems to be at her desk. "Are you there? Are you there? ARE YOU THERE?"

Additionally, at temp jobs, there seems to be food around all the time. Today, someone brought in bagels and donuts and muffins JUST BECAUSE.

It's worth it.

I've Jumped on the Bandwagon... Er, Boat, Though Decidedly Late (Um, Plane?)

Lost.

Oh man.

Hooked.

It took a few episodes, but I'm hooked.

Hi.

Mike and I both watched the show sporadically when it first aired (years before we even met), but I soon gave up. I had happy hours to plan, you know?

Now that Lost has pulled the plug, and the final season will soon be released on DVD, Mike and I (and our collective OCD and impatience) are free to watch without interruption.

I know how difficult it was to wait for a new episode of Supernatural, so waiting for the next Lost installment must have been KILLER. I can barely stand to wait as we zip through the credits to the next episode. You Lost fanatics are impressive. And a bit insane, methinks.

Anyway, good show. I enjoy the characters, the storylines, the background stories, and the mysterious awesome/evil Island itself. I do wish that Michael would stop screaming "WALT!" for at least one episode, and I also wish that Claire would go into labor already, but I'm guessing that it all happens in due time.

I wasn't completely unaware of the show, though, even as I neglected to watch it. As a dutiful reader of Television Without Pity, I would sometimes read the Lost recaps when they appeared on the homepage even though I had practically nothing to do with the show.

Mike stares at me in surprise when I get a plot point correct, and that's mostly due to those old recaps. Now, I should mention that he has discovered and read other, probably not as awesome, recaps of the ENTIRE SHOW, so he knows what is to happen, so I should be receiving absolutely no crap from him whatsoever, but lo and behold, I still do.

We're on episode 22. I don't want to stop watching, but sleep beckons.

Sometimes I Wonder if My Twenties Were a Good Idea

So I'm working on these sweet invitations for my August birthday party (because I am going to be THIRTY and I deserve a PARTY and it is going to be EPIC), and I thought that maybe I could do photo cards.

So I'm searching through my pictures from the last eight years or so, and I've run into a bit of a problem. I'm usually the one taking the pictures, so I am actually in very few, but the biggest problem? I cannot find a decent picture of myself in which I am NOT holding some form of alcoholic drink and/or look completely insane.

To recap: I either look crazypants, or I am holding alcohol. Not appropriate!

Feast your eyes on my deviance:

Insane.

Drinking.

Insane.

Drinking.

Oh sweet God. Insane.

Drinking.

Insane.

Pink drinking.

Um. Clearly insane.

About to be drinking.

And, as I have been trying to show you, INSANE.

I have to find a semi-decent picture, and I just don't know that it's going to happen. I think that I might end up just printing invitations with a flower or something. Sigh.

My Cousin Got Married!

My beautiful cousin, Christin, married John over Memorial Day weekend, and it was awesome and epic and theirs is TWU WUV. And I wasn't a bridesmaid, so I got to remember what it's like to be a guest at a wedding with no responsibilities and such. It was kind of glorious.

And also left me with several hilarious stories to tell.

If you'd like to hear the backstory about how I totally suck and almost ruined everything, read this. If you don't feel like clicking, just know that I am an asshole with zero time management skills and no one should ever ask me to do anything ever (like read things aloud from the BIBLE), because I am bound to be tardy.

Anyway.

After the ceremony, we made our way to the reception. And that's when things got interesting!

First off, just so you know, I was the designated driver. Being the designated driver at a wedding reception is the worst kind of pain. It's an OPEN BAR. Sigh. Savor my pain.

Secondly, table assignments.

I should mention... Mike briefly dated one of my cousin's college roommates back in the day, years before he met me. And we knew that she would be present at the wedding. We did not expect that my darling cousin would seat her at our table.

Yes.

Which, honestly? Was not a big deal at all.

But this girl? Adorable, but not the brightest bulb, that's for sure. Kind of nuts, actually. And that's all I am going to say about that, because, well, she was severely drunk and I really can't hold things against people when I am dead sober and they are falling down drunk. Right?

So here are some pretty pictures!

Oh, and this is what happens when everyone is drinking but you.
I present, A SERIES IN DRUNKENNESS:

And even though I wasn't drinking,
I still had to find some way to look like a moron:

I am ridiculous! Yay!

Congratulations, Christin and John!

The Biggest Surprise of the TV Season

Now that the networks have aired all of their season (and series!) finales, I feel that I should at least try to get you to watch something over the summer: The Vampire Diaries.

The Vampire Diaries is based on some teeny-bopper book series (that I swear I've never read, because if I'm going to read any more books about vampires, it's going to be the trashy-but-awesome True Blood series, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?) and as I've never read them, I have no idea how they translate to the screen. What I do know is that I caught the last bit of the season and have been playing catch-up ever since, thanks to the CW, its glorious reruns, and Mike's DVR.

I know. I know, I know, I KNOW. But I am telling you -- it's actually good, it has engrossing storylines that actually get resolved, the dialogue is entertaining and far from stilted and Dawson's Creek-ish, and it has a cast full of pretty, pretty people.

Pretty.
OH SO PRETTY.

The fact that it aired back-to-back with Supernatural made Thursday nights awesome.

The series focuses on Elena, a normal high school girl who loses her parents in a car accident. She then promptly falls for Stefan, a new guy at school. Oh, and he's a 100+ year old vampire.

BUT WAIT IT GETS BETTER.

Stefan has a brother, ALSO A VAMPIRE OMG, named Damon (who you might recognize as Boone from Lost), and he's... well, he's got issues. But oh sweet God, is he attractive. He's basically there to throw a wrench into everything and to ruin his brother's un-life.

The rest of the cast is great. Not just bit-parts and good-looking stand-ins, they all have engrossing storylines and interesting personalities. There's Elena's best friend, Bonnie, who is learning to harness her powers as a descendant of the SALEM WITCHES OH MY GOD; Caroline, head cheerleader and gossip queen, but also kind of sweet; Jeremy, Elena's brother and a total druggie; and Matt, Elena's ex and all-around nice guy.

One thing that The Vampire Diaries does - unlike so many shows on television today - is move the story along at a satisfying pace. Plot lines are introduced in the first scene and resolved halfway through an episode! And when people have thoughts or doubts or questions, they actually talk about them. It's crazy, I'm telling you. Threats? Followed through. Deaths? Many. Romantic interludes? Not too many to make you vomit, but enough to keep you interested.

If you're easily bored and distracted, this show is for you as it will keep you interested. It moves fast and it definitely delivers. The season finale cliffhanger was one of the best I've ever seen (the best being season five of Friends - Ross saying "Rachel" at his wedding to Emily), and I really can't wait for season two to discover what happened!

This is What I've Done So Far at My New Temp Job

I made pretty necklaces for the coffee pots so that people don't accidentally reach for the Starbucks when they were craving the Folgers. Seriously, this is something that I was asked to do. And they pay me money.



Marvelous.

Comparison Shopping

It's been over a week or so since my True Blood marathon, and I've realized that am in withdrawal. A little bit. After a few days of hemming and hawing, I compared prices and finally decided to buy the first season.

I compared prices, because that's what you do. You don't randomly gallop into Target or wherever, scoop up your bounty and throw hard-earned money at the cashier as you run out the door in a hurry to get home and see canoodling vampires on your television screen. Well, I know someone like that, but it's not me. Anyway.

Speaking of which, Borders, do you really think that I am going to pay $55.99 for a five-DVD set? What about you, Best Buy? $46.99? I don't think so!

I even checked overstock.com and buy.com and contrary to the ideas set forth in their commercicals, their prices were laughable. Finally, my beloved Target disappointed me as well ($49.99), and I'll just have to get over that, I suppose.

Anyway, I ordered them on amazon, and I got myself a sweet ass deal from the marketplace. Up yours, Barnes and Ignoble (Ha ha! Do you see what I did there? WORD PLAY). Suck it, Worst Buy!


With all due respect, Best Buy, I found this on the internets and mean no copyright infringement. But you are poop.

The Cat Hath Spoken

You will go nowhere.
Mark my words.

Little Hamburger, Please

You guys! OMG!

When I left DC to return to Michigan, I knew that I would be saying goodbye to lots of friends and a way of life. I would no longer have the Metro, the Smithsonian, and the National Mall.

There were things that I knew I wouldn't have to do without upon my return to Ann Arbor, and those included: Chipotle, Potbelly, Ikea, and Trader Joe's. All had opened in Ann Arbor sometime between 2002, when I left, and 2007, when I returned. I had become reliant upon them (especially Trader Joe's), and it was like, the best day ever when I found that they were all here!

But there was one place that I missed. Not all of the time, but when I wanted a good, cheap burger, I longed for this place. But now I won't have to wait much longer!

A Five Guys is opening in Ann Arbor. On campus. OH GLORIOUS DAY.

Obviously, people need more meat. Dr. Spaceman says, "Humans need more animal blood. It keeps their spines straight." I say that we listen to Dr. Spaceman and get ourselves to Five Guys.

I took this picture over five years ago when at a job that made me cry on a daily basis. But leaving to get lunch made me happy, especially when Five Guys was only a half block away. That is 2/3 of what they call a "Little Hamburger." Delicious! I can't WAIT to have one of those again.

Weird Day

You guys, I saw someone wearing the "A Wizard Turned You Into a Whale" shirt today and it only AMPLIFIED my desire to have it.

I mean, this shirt is awesome. There is no denying that it is awesome.

Anyway, then I sat by the Michigan Union to eat my lunch and even though it wasn't really that warm, decided that even though I wanted to wade in this fountain, I probably shouldn't.

It's been a weird day...

Nosebud

True story. My mom is insane.

I was waiting on the bus stop at 7 the other morning and I got the following text from my mother:

LADY: Good morning little rosebud! Have a happy day :)

(Backstory - Apparently my mom used to call me and my brother "rosebud," as we were precious flowers-to-be. She sure got that wrong.)

(Double backstory - I had no idea that she ever called us that.)

ME: Did you just call me a sleigh?

(First error - I meant to say "sled" as that would have aligned with what I first thought of when I read "rosebud," even though I have never seen Citizen Kane. What I didn't realize is that my mother did not make the connection, especially when she saw the word "sleigh." So this is when it starts to get... weird.)

LADY: Lolol! That said ROSEbud, not NOSEbud.

Um, what?

So at this point, I'm trying to make peace with the idea that my mother thinks that the sled in Citizen Kane was called NOSEbud, which is both absolutely hilarious and slightly frightening.

Completely unhinged, I responded:

ME: Well, I've never even seen the damn movie, so I have no idea what I'm talking about.

So I thought about this all day. I'm not kidding. I couldn't get it out of my head. I met Mike for dinner and told him the story, which led him to immediately text my mom and call her nosebud.

When we left the restaurant, I called my dad, because I knew that he would get a kick out of the story. He was already laughing as he picked up the phone. I told him the story with my mom protesting in the background, and we decided that my mom's brain connections probably went a little like this:

"Heather just said sleigh. But I called her rosebud... Hmmm... Sleigh... Santa... Reindeer... Rudolph the Red NOSEd Reindeer... Nosebud."

Does your mother's brain work this way? Because I am a little concerned.

...

So now Mike and I are calling each other nosebud at every opportunity. Recent example in text form:

ME: Hi love! How's my nosebud?
MIKE: Mostly nosey but kinda buddy.

Bluebirds Versus Blue Jays

Bluebirds are beautiful, tiny, adorable little birds that make me happy. They have twee little calls, and if you click here, you can hear an example. So cute!

The only reason people like blue jays is because they can identify them. But you shouldn't like blue jays, and I'm going to tell you why.

In a word, blue jays are assholes.

There are three blue jays who stalk my backyard and neighborhood, and I think that it all comes down to the fact that my neighbor has a Mulberry tree in his front yard, and to blue jays, those berries are what crack is to crackwhores. Or catnip to a cat. You know.

That's all well and good, of course, but blue jays are LOUD. They are shrill and obnoxious, and I think that the three of them have a weird kind of relationship going on, because they're constantly chasing each other around and then two of them seem to hide from the other one. And then there's some switching going on and it's basically wife swap up in the tree.

But I do not judge them for their deviant lifestyle! No, I judge them because they feel the need to squawk and scream CONSTANTLY. Click here to hear the ear-splitting irritation.

Anyway, they like to do this at about 5:30 in the morning every day, and since I try to run the air conditioning as little as possible, my windows are open. And the sounds jar me out of bed onto the floor and I scramble around looking for my gun before realizing that I don't have a gun and then I go to the bathroom instead, crawl back into bed, slowly start to fall asleep when it all starts up again.

And that's why blue jays can go to Hell.

It's a Banner Day, You Guys

Happy Anniversary to my honey. He makes me laugh, he makes me happy and I love him. And he is very lucky to have met me.

Also, he puts up with me and my insanity, and that's the most amazing thing, I think.

Let Me Tell You About Memorial Day Weekend, Because It's Kind of Awesome

The majority of the weekend found me being inexplicably late to important events, and almost every time? My fault.

~FRIDAY~

I left Ann Arbor at three in the afternoon with a packed car. My destination? Wyandotte - a mere forty miles east. It was my cousin Christin's wedding weekend, and I was doing the reading in the ceremony. It was Friday, so it was time for the rehearsal, and it started at four. But you know what else started that afternoon? Construction on every road possible, and a massive accident on I-94 near the airport.

Clearly my route from there is of no interest to you, but I somehow managed to exit the expressway just before the backup, and yet ended up on the million-mile circuit around the airport. On the Friday of Memorial Day weekend.

Anyway, I was far from being the last person there, and did a very nice practice reading.

Christin thought I was awesome.
And she was the bride. So I win.

First off, and thank the baby Jesus, I was not a bridesmaid (that makes me sound so ungrateful, doesn't it?)! Not that I would have turned her down had she asked me, because she's my cousin and I love her forever, but still. I was doing a reading from Colossians, and that was it. I didn't have to buy a bridesmaid dress from David's Fucking Bridal. Or shoes. I would have gone to the bachelorette party in Vegas had I had the money, but alas, I am poor. It was a win-win, if you ask me, especially since I am still paying off the last dress I purchased from David's Fucking Bridal.

Secondly, driving forty miles should take me a half hour at most - and probably less considering I normally drive like a bat out of hell. Of course, that's without taking into account the fact that some dingleberry working at the DOT thought that doing road repair on every. single. road. between here and there was of immediate necessity on a HOLIDAY WEEKEND. Also, there were traffic cops everywhere. I couldn't drive my customary 15-20 mph over the speed limit. It ruined everything.

And that's why I was late.

~SATURDAY~

Mike woke me up early on his way out the door to the golf course, but I grunted at him and went back to sleep. Not long after, Kelly sent me a lovely text, alerting me to the fact that she was picking me up to get coffee and then dragging me to an unending number of stores. After Home Depot and Target and getting a propane tank filled, we ended up at the condo pool. With alcohol.

And then Mike got home from golfing at like, 1:00, and was all, "Let's take a nap!" And I was all, "No, we cannot! We have to be responsible adults and arrive to events on time!"

Just kidding. We took a nap.

My cousin's wedding was at 4. I got in the shower at 2:15. Had I not gone to the pool, I would have been fine, but then again, my recent lack of judgment has more than illustrated my descent into adolescence, so what are you gonna do?

AREN'T YOU GLAD I SHOWERED?
Also, I'm blonde now. Enjoy.

Now, after my journey the day before, you would THINK that I would have known to depart much, much earlier and to leave ample time for the construction and holiday weekend traffic. You know, because I was READING FROM THE BIBLE DURING THE CEREMONY.

Ten minutes before the wedding was to begin, and at least fifteen minutes of traffic between us and the church, I called the Matron of Honor and asked if they were running behind - you know, like any NORMAL wedding would be. Of course, they were not running behind. And WHERE the FUCK was I, by the way?

They HELD the wedding for me.

I am SUCH a JACKASS.

Christin and John. Married.
NO THANKS TO ME.

After the ceremony, as we waited on the front lawn of the church with our celebratory bubbles in hand, I vowed to Mike and my parents that it was the LAST TIME. I was going to improve my punctuality, work on my time management, and improve myself.

They all laughed.

When it comes to my life outside of work, my lack of time management skills really worries me. From hitting the snooze button too often and leaving dishes in the sink for weeks at a time is nothing like me (okay, maybe the dishes thing is - there are too many old roommates who would argue to the contrary). I never used to be that way. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's because I am going to be... thirty.

There are some great stories associated with this wedding, but more on that later.

~SUNDAY~

Oh, have I mentioned that this was the busiest weekend I'd had in months? Because it was. Of course, I wasn't the one planning these events. I merely had to attend, so you'd think that there would be no problems associated with said events. Well, we can all see how well the weekend had gone thus far.

Mike went golfing. His tee time? 6:50. In the A.M. I, understandably, slept. Then Kelly forced me on another Target run, and we again ended up at the pool.

My niece's birthday party was scheduled to begin at 3 pm, but my brother told us to get there at 3:30 or 4:00. Mike didn't return from the course until 3:45. So we arrived at... 4:15 or so. This time? Not my fault! However, we seemed to have timed it perfectly, because everyone was eating when we arrived, the battalion of children was occupied with pizza, and we sat in the shade and relaxed. And there was beer and there was cake, and we were happy. Besides our idea of fun doesn't yet involve many, many toddlers running around screaming. That makes us stabby.

I brought Alexis a real gift, wrapped with REAL wrapping paper, and not something that I picked up at the gas station on the way.

(Oh my God, like I would ever do that.)

(Okay, it's possible that I once wrapped a birthday present in a Target bag, as that's what the gift came in when I bought it on the way to the party because I had forgotten to buy a gift during the many weeks before the party. But it was from Target, definitely not a gas station.)

(And to think that some people think I have no time management skills.)

Fucking ecstatic.

Apparently, these Zhu Zhu Pet things are the Tickle-Me Elmos or Cabbage Patch Kids of the decade. I have no idea what the fuck they are, but Alexis wanted another pet for her birthday, and my brother was not having anything to do with that. So she gets fake hamsters instead.

Anyway, after a few hours, we left. And slept. And it was glorious.