Woo! It's Tuesday again! I think it is, anyway. These holiday thingies are starting to mess with my sense of time, which has never been that great, to be honest.
We're heading out to hubby's hometown to spend a belated Xmas with the inlaws, so posting may be sparse. Or dense, depending on how badly I need to escape and just how much I'm self-medicating. So if you're going to play today, be sure to leave your linky in your comment because I can't guarantee when I'll be able to link you up. Or how sober I will be at the time. I could get it wrong entirely and send unsuspecting blog readers off to look at goat porn.
So, ready for Ye Olde Randome Tuesdae? Follow along!
I'm blogging and drinking as usual and my red wine got accidentally chilled (the bottle was sitting by a window). I'm ashamed to admit I kind of like it. I know, how classy can you get? Okay, well, I drink it out of a coffee cup in the first place, so I didn't have too far to fall.
This post got interrupted earlier when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny movement above my shoulder. It was a rather large spider, descending from the ceiling, all eight legs - the four that are justifiable and the four that are totally creepy and unnecessary - splayed wide. So I did what any rational adult would do, I shrieked like a little girl and just about broke my own neck falling out of the chair backwards. Then I grabbed the closest two books and smacked that little bugger between them.
They happened to be graphic novels, so now there are spider brains all over my Buffy Omnibus 1 & 2. See? She's still slaying icky things.
Anyway, haha on you Mr. Dead Spider! You think you're so fast with that completely gratuitous amount of limbs, but NOBODY is fast when they're hanging from the ceiling by their ass.
The thing is, this is not an isolated incident. It's like the fourth time that I've been sitting here minding my own business, and a spider has pulled a Mission Impossible right beside me. So I either have an inordinate amount of arachnids dangling from my ceiling on a regular basis, or THEY KNOW. Somehow they know that it will freak me out, and they're willing to risk their lives just to fuck with me.
Inordinate Amount of Arachnids would be a great name for a band.
Dear Makers of Advil Pediatric Drops,
Would it fucking kill you to make your bottle CLEAR? So that at 3am, when I'm half asleep and juggling a 30-lb
turkey toddler who's trying to set a new world record for how many teeth he can cut at once as well as trying to maneuver your stupid-ass-design syringe thingie into his mouth, it will take me less than 20 minutes to realize the bottle is empty? Thank you.
Also, while I have you on the line, your product is NOT LIQUID GOLD. Seriously. 8 fucking dollars for 24 ml? C'mon.
I'd switch to Tylenol, but apparently my child has inherited my bizarre physiology that sneers at acetemetophin products and can only be subdued by ibuprofen.
Upcoming small-town inlaw-visiting hell. Really lookin' forward to it. Can you tell? We haven't even gotten there yet and there's already drama, because we've elected to stay with hubby's sister instead of his parents. The reason we're doing this - the one we're giving them anyway - is we're toting along the dog and they don't like her. But apparently they're offended anyway. The kicker is that hubby's sister and parents live FOUR HOUSES APART. What difference does it make where we sleep? Are they planning to creep on my son while we're dozing?
Ugh...actually, they probably are.
They don't want to see us anyway, just the grandson. I'd totally put him on a bus and ship him there, but, y'know, he's 15 months old. He may not understand why his seatmates smell like urine.
Also I might miss him. And they might not give him back.
Anyway now I have to go wipe spider bits off my comics before the stain sets in, and I've probably horrified you enough. Grab the button, randomize, and leave a comment with your link! Happy freakin' Tuesday!