...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

oh, sexy internet...

Is that a hastily constructed, not to scale model of the Washington Monument in my garage, or are you just happy to see me?

Ah, yes, friends, in the grand tradition of the balloon-powered vehicle and the giant soul-sucking, holiday weekend killing Jamaica project, tonight, we here at the House that Procrastination Built are putting the finishing touches on a project due tomorrow in my third grader's class. A project we didn't start on until last night...at 9:30 p.m., after a Little League baseball game. A project everyone here has known about because I've spent the past two weeks since it was assigned saying things like, "Hey, we should really work on that monument project!" and "Are you sure you wouldn't want to switch your project to the Lincoln Memorial? Because time's a'ticking and we already painstakingly built that monument five years ago, the last time this project rolled around, and I've been saving it in the basement for a day just like this!"

Thank goodness the end of the school year is in sight because this? This model - which is clearly slivered for your pleasure - is the closest thing anyone around here is coming to a good time tonight or any night in the foreseeable future.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

i finally have concrete evidence no one is checking out my ass

Twelve hours after putting on my pants today, I discovered a hole in the seat. A tiny hole, you ask? No. This was a gaping wound that tore apart the harmonious union forged in fabric once enjoyed by the two parts of my sensible pants.

(forgive me for what follows...)

This was definitely a hole near the a...OK, I can't...

My discovery is disheartening because until recently, this is a pair of pants my ass couldn't fit into for a long time, a pair I recently reunited with in a victory dance brought on by months of squats and a bitter breakup with peanut butter (note to peanut butter - I know you're still out there, I know you still love me, but cool it with the overt attempts to get me back, m'kay?).

Butt (har har) do you want to know the real reason I'm torn up by this tear? I visited the following highly populated areas during the 12 hours the pants were on my body:
  • my son's middle school
  • my place of employment
  • Walmart
  • the bank
  • the grocery store
  • the YMCA
  • the gas station
and not one person apparently took a gander at mah goods! While I was experiencing the flip side of "Hey, you've got a piece of spinach or something between your teeth," no one, in all those places, during all that time, cared to notice my holy grail in my holey pants! Seriously?! You could see where the sun don't shine through the opening I was (inadvertently) giving you! In fact, if you HAD looked, you damn well better have been done so through a hole in a paper plate. Not so much to protect your eyes, but to it to cover them so as not to see that, yeah, it's still a wee bit of a train wreck back there in the caboose department.

Perhaps peanut butter and I should rethink our relationship.

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Sunday, May 15, 2011

and i'm like 'forget you and forget my blog password too'

So Blogger was down for a few days last week, huh? I guess I could use that as my excuse for not writing for ::cough:: a month, but to be truthful, I must confess. The reason I've not been here is because I forgot the password to log into my Blogger account.


I've been writing here for nearly five years, and then boom! I drew a giant blank on the combination of words I've been typing in on the Blogger homepage since day one that allows me to gain access to this secret lair, as well as comment at your places of business. If that wasn't bad enough, travel back in time with me, won't you, as I remind you what I last wrote about...

"I'm not stupid. I'm not stupid now, I've never been stupid, and I don't plan on getting stupid."

Ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha...ha! If there weren't already a song about irony, I could write one, don'tcha think?
So, hello, friends. It's good to see you again. How are you? What have I been up to? Oh, nothing special. Bracing myself for the end of the school year (three weeks away! Hooray!)(also, I've apparently been penning a little poetry). Purposely listening to this Justin Bieber song on the way to work (question - is there anything that Ludacris won't be featured on?). Playing a little game called 'Angry Birds.' Ever heard of it? Of course you have. Everyone in the world has heard of it and already grown bored of playing it by the time I discovered it a week ago. Hey, wanna talk about how cuckoo craaaazeee that nice fellow Charlie Sheen's been lately?!

I've also been trapped inside a lot because my hours at work (from an already generous 15 a week!) were cut and the weather's been so crappy I don't want to leave the house, so I've been working out six days a week and doing a lot of reading.

Cripes, I just realized what I've been doing is living the life of a prisoner! Alas, no Wendy O. Williams in "Reform School Girls" action up in this joint. Bummer. I do have biceps like a couple of angry vipers now, though. Tiny, still gestating in the egg vipers, but just you wait. Go heavy or go home, wussies! Also, here's a tip - I made friends with Rob Lowe so I could hear his stories and now you don't have to. You'll thank me because I'm your real friend for saving you the time you would've wasted on that one. Sorry, Sodapop Curtis. Please don't look at me like that (p.s. - for the love of heaven, why isn't "St. Elmo's Fire" on Netflix instant streaming?!)(trivia - I had the love theme from "St. Elmo's Fire" played during my wedding because I'm what the natives like to call hella romantic...and because the song that plays at the end of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," while awesome, wouldn't have conveyed the same tender emotion I was going for with the day. Oh, no)(chicka chicka).

I think that's about it. Pretty boring. In retrospect, I guess you should be happy I forgot my log in information because if this is the type of thunder I'm bringing, well then, go on out there strapped to your wireless microphones and holding your giant steel rods (not a metaphor), because you're safe in this storm! For now, I've got a cake to frost (again, not a metaphor) and some hot dogs to grill (possibly a metaphor). When I do have more to say, I'll be back!

(so...I guess see you in two months next time, huh?)