Well, I’m annoyingly happy…

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m happy. I mean, I get annoyed, irritated, bitchy, overwhelmed, underwhelmed, and all the other roller coaster emo bullshit humanity goes through – but holy shit, I’m *happy*. My life is spectacularly mundane, but this morning while I was brewing my morning tea, I opened the dishwasher and found it had already been emptied and had an incredible rush of contentment and love.

Now, being a superstitious (paranoid?) sort, I’m usually afraid to admit to being happy or joyful as I expect the universe to immediately bitch-slap any happiness or joy right the fuck out of me (Important: if I die horribly today and/or a tsunami hits and/or I’m struck by lightning and/or something else equally horrific occurs- please let people know my superstition/paranoia was ACCURATE.), but I’ve decided to allow myself to feel the happy.

I’m just so annoyingly and happily in love with that guy I married. (*looks up to check ceiling isn’t collapsing!*)

Love y’all,



I got cocky….

Ok. Here’s this morning’s hilariousness. Was on the toilet LITERALLY LOOKING UP “proud of myself” memes because I was adulting and feeling proud of myself for doing all the random (forgive the pun) crap that needed doing.
Wiped, flushed, toilet water began pouring from base of toilet.
Moral of story – don’t be proud while taking a shit. Universe will make you pay. 🤣🤣🤣

….so, how much gold do you think it’s going to take to fix the toilet? *laughing*

I won!

Okay, it’s not actually winning (but it totally is). I went to a holiday party last night (and this morning is a stark reminder of why drinking is not really my thing, also have no tolerance at all – 2 drinks and wooooo!) and I got to see one of my “ex’s” (using air quotes cause it was more extended time period of hookups than actual relationship) and I looked good. I usually do not get to see people that no longer see me naked looking good – case in point the last time I saw another “ex” I literally had on a green pore cleaning face mask. Such is my awkward life.

But last night I was in heels (screw my ankle, it’ll heal again!), a boob-emphasising dress, and my hair was down (true story, I’m 73% more attractive with my hair down).

Now, I have no emotional attachment to this guy and wish him nothing but happiness in life. But YAY! I won because I looked hotter now than I did back then! YAY!


snot monster

So, a plague-rat has infected me and now I’m dying. To detail that a little better, my friend’s son gave me his cold and now I’ve turned into a disgusting snot-monster who can’t lay down without coughing. Even worse, beloved manly rough and tough husband appears to be coming down with it as well. While he may be the roughest and toughest manly man ever (shut up, he reads this! :P), when he is sick he devolves. When I’m sick I regress  into cave-dwelling-leave-me-alone-but-now-I’m-lonely level of annoying. The two of us sick at the same time = no bueno. He texted me from work asking if we can cancel the viewing of a potential rental house because he feels crappy too. 

Welp. We’re doomed.  I warned him that if we are both sick at the same time he better use the last of his strength to bring home provisions lest we drown in our own mucus. He agreed, here is the list:

1. soup. it’s what we live on now. I recommend getting plenty of it. chicken noodle and split pea sound great to me (uh. not together). 

2. crackers. because we live on them in soup. 

3. diet coke (we’re low)

4. more juice (because I love you and we will fight over the juice if it gets low). 

5. vanilla coke (cause you like it)

6. popsicles. because they help. obviously bomb pops are the best but any port in a storm. 

7. bread (because toast is nummy too)

8. for the love of my schnoz, tissues with lotion please. 

…and now you know what the next couple of days looks like in my life. 

Love ya!


It will be a good day…

Or should I say, it will be a good day, dammit.
The Tuesday following a Monday off has always been a rough day; conversely, I have found most Friday the 13ths to be lovely. Anywhoodle, yesterday was a rough day for no real reason, just found it tough. So I woke up today determined for it to be good. I put on a new (kinda sexy) pair of underwear and a comfy pair of jeans to wear to the office. Unfortunately, once I arrived and was walking up the stairs to get to my office I learned that this particular new underwear is a bit too slippery for denim and my pants keep trying to fall (the fuck) off. As I unlocked the office door and stomped my way into the office, holding my bag with one hand and my pants with the other this thought ran through my head, “well, if there is ever going to be a zombie apocalypse it will happen on a day where I can’t keep my pants on.” This thought made me laugh out loud to myself and reminded me that I wanted to write an apocalypse story (book?) where during the first few chapters our rather well-endowed-in-the chestular-area-heroine spends a significant amount of time finding a bra. Why? Because at this point in my life attempting anything physical (running, fighting zombies, etc.) without adequate support sounds torturous and finding a decent bra during a zombie apocalypse seems like something a normal gal would have to do. Sure, she may have to save the world, but first things first – find a bra.

Okay, extremely random thought completed. Wish me luck with my escapee pants.