You just KNOW I’m going to have a whole post about phlegm tomorrow: Random Tuesday Thoughts


Tuesday, Tuesday…la la, la la la…sure like that daaayyy…la la, la la la…

Am I allowed to use god-related exclamations?  Because I’m especially fond of the phrase, “Lord, love a duck,” and I want to use it often, but I don’t want to offend any Christians.  Or waterfowl.  Or…Christian waterfowl.

There is this mysterious series of people that follow me on Twitter.  They almost always only have 15-20 tweets under their belt, but somehow have amassed 1000 followers.  Their tweets always start with a few on the variation of “Can you hear me now, Gillian?” and then continue with a series of completely nonsensical sentence fragments like “It is insoluble riddles” and “condescending conditional mario”.

Is this some kind of treasure-hunt conspiracy theory thing that I’m supposed to be puzzling out?  Do I get a gold bar or a dusty parchment map if I figure it out?  Because it’s driving me crazy trying to decipher what, if anything, these ‘people’ are trying to accomplish.

I mean, nobody can be THAT bored.

I have cleared out my Google Reader.  I read everything.  It’s a good thing I didn’t make any New Years resolutions, because End Times are obviously nigh.

Star Wars pinups.  For the more depraved among us.  (*cough*)

I think I’m going to take one random thought per week and turn it into an actual post.  We’ll call it a “writing exercise” (rather than “my life is really boring so all I have are these random tidbits”).  Deal?  You can join me, if you like.

I mean, you can take one of YOUR OWN random thoughts.  Not mine.  Thieves.

I have had this weird pressure in my throat for a few days, like a lump.  It doesn’t seem to go away when I swallow.

I think it’s a scream.  Though I suppose it’s just as likely that it’s phlegm.  Or that hamster I had for breakfast.

Last week someone told me she’d been criticized for participating in Random Tuesday Thoughts at the same time as a different blog carnival thing.  I totally understand that this is the coolest meme out there, and y’all might get proprietary about that, but it’s really okay to tag-team RTT with whatever other Tuesday thing you like.  If you think you need my permission, which you don’t.  It’s blogging, after all – we’re just making this shit up as we go along.

And looking fabulous doing it, of course.

After the rise of comic book popularity, and movies like Kick Ass, it was really only a matter of time before someone actually went ahead and did it.  While I’m impressed by the…ball bearings…on this guy, I think I’ll stick with being a hero and giving blood the old-fashioned way.

(By shooting it out of people.)

…What?  I’m still working on my career as an assassin.  It’s a slow start, mostly because it’s hard to wait outside for my targets when it’s minus 20 (-35 with the windchill!). 

Maybe I’ll stick with character assassination.

But not you guys, of course.  Unless someone paid me.  Which they probably won’t because you’re doing a fine job on your own, so, you’re still welcome to play along with Random Tuesday Thoughts!

And you should.  You really, really should.

Really? Really, really.

"Everybody is too busy focusing on their own perceived imperfections to notice yours."

That is my usual Tenet To Live By. I'm pretty good at following it, most of the time. However, when there is an impending event that will involve a lot of cameras, such as a wedding or a birthday or, say, BlogHer, I've been known to have the occasional panicky crisis of faith.

I had one today. Thanks to whacky hormones and lack of time to exercise and sheer laziness on my part, I'm officially the same weight that I was a couple of weeks after giving birth to my son. It's only twenty pounds more than I would like to weigh, and I think I look fine. I feel fine, which is equally important, but since all this extra blubber seems to have settled around my waist like a floatation device, I have this pesky little problem: nothing fits.

Mostly I just kind of muddle along in jeans and hope that some chemical rebalancing of my body will eventually win me my wardrobe back. But for something like the BlogHer parties, where I want to look NICE, and maybe wear something SPECIAL, it's problematic. Today, feeling slightly on edge, I thought I came up with the perfect solution: shapewear. Shapewear would shave off a few sizes. Shapewear would turn me into a svelte, confident, social conquerer who doesn't show quite so much gums when she smiles, right?

While that might be slightly true for higher-end products such as Yummie Tummie or Spanx, due to time and money constraints, what I had access to this afternoon was discount shapewear.

(These sudden fixations on specific items to assuage my fashion fears are...often somewhat deluded. I have some very creepy rubber boob-lifter 'cutlets' that will attest to this.)

I took the butt-and-tummy-firmer-and-smoother into the changeroom with a pair of jeans and a nice (if slightly clingy) top. I changed from my comfy 'weekend' jeans and loose tank into the Lycra armor.

...Huh. I don't think this stuff is supposed to CREATE lumps. Maybe they go away after you put the clothes on over top.

Um. Guess not. Isn't this supposed to make me look smaller?

I stood under the unflattering flourescent lights of the outlet mall for a bit, shoulders slumped, wondering if I really looked that paunchy. Then I decided that 'really' is whatever you make it. The people I meet at BlogHer will still be meeting ME.

I put everything back and vowed to only ever shop at places that are smart enough to provide natural lighting.

Then I went and spent that money on wine.

Maybe if I wish really hard and click my heels together someone will bring me something limey and minty: Random Tuesday Thoughts


Okay, so the post before this Random Tuesday post was another Random Tuesday post. So sue me. Other people do it.

The inspiration, she is lacking.

Anyway. Not sure what a Random Tuesday is? It's like any other Tuesday, except that you get to brain-dump all your little wayward thoughts and call it a post. It would be a thing of beauty, if it didn't have such an ugly button.

It's a long weekend here in Canada. The May long weekend is traditionally when people make incredibly optimistic plans to do things outdoors, like go camping or plant their gardens, and then without fail, Mother Nature shits a typhoon on us. It's Murphy's Law or something.

But I took a day off work and planted my garden on Friday, when it was still sunny. Take that, Murphy, you fat bastard!

Okay, I have no idea if Murphy was a fat bastard or not. It just seems like he should be, somehow, you know? So then I had to look it up. Turns out he was neither, he was an aerospace engineer.

Like you need an engineering degree to figure out that things will always go wrong.

My garden is obliging me by already producing mint for mojitos. In fact, I got all jazzed about having a mojito yesterday, got all the ingredients, and picked the mint, only to realize that very young mint leaves...are not very good. Or possibly it was actually a weed.

At any rate, I still really want a mojito.

World's oldest sex toy. (Totally unrelated to mojitos. Not sure they had mojitos back then. If they did, they were probably lukewarm.)

For date night hubby and I went to go see How To Train Your Dragon. It was cute. When we were child-free, we used to go see kids movies all the time, without feeling guilty or judged. Now that we actually HAVE a kid, I felt like people were staring at us the whole time wondering why we didn't have any spawn with us.

Well, the other 4 people in the theatre, anyway.

Do you ever wish you could Photoshop real life? (I'd probably use the "stretch" tool on my legs and the "fisheye" on my chest. Then I'd copy & paste some friends.)

The other day Pat the Neighbourhood Gossip Information Hub said to me, "I've been meaning to tell you this, but ever since that big wind storm, that second pine on your property is leaning way to the left. I can see it from my study. I bet it cracked halfway up or something, you should get a tree guy to look at it, because if it came down on the house it could kill you!"

Before I could muster up enough sarcasm to thank her for this tidbit (that windstorm was a MONTH ago, Pat, how long were you planning to sit on that information?), she added thoughtfully, "Or if it went the other way, Max & Gertie might sue you."

Home ownership is an endless buffet of possibilities.

You know what else is a buffet of possibilities? Random Tuesday Thoughts.

(Oh, my god, that was the WORST SEGUE EVER. I blame the lack of mojitos.)

So, random up! Do your thing, link up, and be sure to do a few stops around the Random Tuesday Crew. They're the cats pajamas.

Just a heads up

I am a nervous drinker. I'm a little socially awkward, as I'm sure a lot of bloggers feel they are, and that's what I do when confronted with actual human interaction. I mean, if booze is present, of course. I don't stash a flask in my purse or anything. But if the occasion warrants it, and I happen to be having a glass of wine, rather than open my mouth and say something weird, I open my mouth and put wine in it. And then maybe some more, because, well, that glass is right there in my hand. And the bottle is so close! Right there by my elbow. And then I've had 3 or 4 glasses and I'm saying weird and inappropriate things anyway, but oh well, what the hell do I care? I'm shmammered.

Years ago - like, 9 of them in fact - some wonderful friends of mine got married very close to Hallowe'en. They had the theme wedding but managed to make it nottacky, as they have a fantastic group of talented and creative family & friends. At some point, because the people surrounding them were so clever and articulate, they had an open microphone. Soooo many people got up and said such beautiful things about the newlyweds. I was twitching in my seat. I had been best friends with the bride for ages, surely I should say something too?

But I hadn't lived in the area in several years, and none of their friends were MY friends. So I was nervous. And drinking. And I'm pretty sure it was an open bar, or possibly I had just been helping myself.

I got up anyway and started a rambling speech about how in the beginning it had just been my friend and me, and we had been inseparable, and everyone had referred to us as "Keelyandfriend", or "FriendandKeely", but now it was "Husbandandfriend", and um, that was okay too. I guess. But back when we had met we had bonded instantly over chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, and been inseparable, and what the fuck was my point again?

I think my friend started to get that teeth-clenchy look so I abandoned the microphone to someone else and wandered off to tell the MC how I thought if he moved his plastic stick-on devil's horn from his forehead to his chin that he'd be really popular with the girls, heh heh. My friend expressed surprise when I apologized the next day - "you were drunk?" - but she was just being her very kind self. I still cringe when I think of that wedding.

So, yeah. What the fuck was my point again?

Oh, right. See you at BlogHer.

(Don't say I didn't warn you.)

The other recommendation was "stupid gift game where someone always steals the one you want at the last second" : Random Tuesday Thoughts


So! Here we all are again. On a Tuesday. Twiddling our thumbs, looking around at each other but not making eye contact...

Oh, wait, that was my mumblemumble Anonymous meeting.

THIS is way more fun. Got something to say? A few paltry bits that you can't really tie together, thematically speaking, but that you want to post anyway? Round 'em up with Random Tuesday Thoughts and link up!

Today's beverage of choice is hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps. Hubby received some schnapps in the (insert more politically correct term than 'Chinese gift exchange' here*) at a dinner party Saturday night. Guess who's allergic to mint?

Well, not ME. Heh.

*Google informs me that better terms are "Dirty Santa" and "Rob Your Neighbour". Yes, Google, that makes it sound MUCH more appealing.

(I am so getting Google searches for Santa porn now, aren't I?)

Speaking of which, someone contacted me with a "search engine advertising" opportunity for my blog. Basically, ads would appear for people who get here using a search engine, targeted to them and what they searched for. You, my wonderful regular readers, would never see a thing.

I sent them back a note saying it sounded interesting, but that they may want to have a peek at what Google searches actually get people to my blog, first:


You know what would be fantastic? If they would make my beloved City of Heroes game for the Wii. If I had to actually punch the virtual bad guys in the nads and do flip kicks off their heads, I would probably look a lot better in my spandex.

Um, I mean, I would be looking so good I could wear spandex. Yeah, that's what I meant to say.

So, get on that, NCSoft. My potentially smokin' bod depends on you.

On a totally unrelated note, did anybody read Farenheit 451? Remember those full-wall interactive TV screens that pretty much meant nobody ever had to actually talk to other human beings again?

I don't know what made me think of that. That could never happen.

I told hubby today, "I'm just going to let myself go and get really fat, okay?" He's used to hearing weird hormonal statements from me lately, so he just shrugged.

I'm pretty sure that means it's okay.

My doctor has decided to close her practice and go be a full-time parent. Which is a sentiment I totally get, but I am still a little upset. I mean a) she was awesome, and b) Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a medical professional that doesn't think I'm a nutjob?

Thank goodness there's you guys. Quick, diagnose this lump, will ya?

Here's a thought: Got a cold? Don't lather yourself up with Vicks and then head to bed and expect to get grabby with your husband's stick shift. Or at least don't expect him to appreciate it. Not that this has happened to me. Because I think these things through.

And, on that note...where's the Vicks?

Random up, you guys. Don't make me come over there.

I've got this AND the crack habit under control, thank you for asking

Todays post is brought to you by everybody's favorite beverage, COFFEE. Why? Because Blissfully Caffeinated just gave birth to the beautiful and perfect baby Half Caff, and it sounds like she had a bit of a time of it. So Jenni and Sprite's Keeper suggested we all post about coffee, to let Bliss Caff know we're thinking of her.

I have a love-hate relationship with coffee. I'm madly, passionately, in love with it. I love the enticing aroma, the fragrant beans, the whole OCD process of making the perfect cup. I love it black, with its sharp edge and impenetrable depths, and I love it sweetened (brown sugar or honey). Add cream and it's practically a fucking dessert.

At one point in my life, however, I loved it a little TOO much. It was college.

Don't the addictions always crop up during college?

I would get up in the morning, have a couple of cups of coffee, and get on the Skytrain to go to school. That took, like, an hour, so by the time I got there I really needed that triple mocchacino from the coffee cart. Then I had a really boring class or two, so I needed another triple after that.

But I never had any coffee after noon! Hey, you have to make rules sometimes.

About halfway through my second year of college my stomach went into revolt. It told me I had to cut out the caffeine or the booze, one of the two, or it wasn't going to let me eat any more of those chocolate-chocolate-chip cookies from the cafeteria, and oh yeah maybe make me throw up some blood.

Clearly, I had to decaffeinate. So I did it in what seemed the most reasonable manner - cold turkey.

I slept for 3 days straight.

I stayed decaffeinated for about a year, at which point my stomach and I came to a tentative understanding. I would only drink one cup of coffee a day, two MAX, and if I ever felt it get out of control I would quit.

I've danced back and forth over that line over the years, but for the most part I stick to that rule. I only have one cup of coffee a day. I mean, it is kind of a BIG cup. When I offer it to guests at my house - "would you like the big mug or the little one?" - their reaction often includes bulging eyes. So maybe it counts as two cups.

Well, and sometimes I have two of those. So, four cups.


Excuse me, I'm going to go see if the detox centre has any openings. And maybe throw up some blood.

4 readily-available beauty products that aren't trying to kill you or the environment, and actually work

I know, that was a long ass title. But that's really what these are. Do you know how much time I spend trying to find eco-friendly, low-toxicity products? And how much money I spend on them only to find out that they don't even fucking WORK? I swear "eco-friendly" is practically synonymous with "stupid and useless".

So here, you get the fruits of my labours. Some stuff I've found that actually works, you can find on your regular shopping trips, and won't make you (or our lovely green planet) die.

(Disclaimer: I mean from cancer or leprosy or something. I'm pretty sure if someone threw one of these at you hard enough, and hit you in the eyeball or groinal region, it might kill you. I'M TALKING REGULAR USAGE HERE, people. It's sad that I even have to write that disclaimer, and even more sad that I just chuckled at the mental image of someone impaled on a shampoo bottle.)

1. Tom's of Maine Lemongrass Deoderant. I'm pretty sure my Mom used to use this stuff, back when SHE was a hippie. So I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. I was afraid I'd smell like an army of Pledge, but it doesn't really smell like anything after you put it on. You still sweat. You just don't stink. Or increase your chances of Alzheimers or cancer.

I found it at Shopper's Drug Mart, but WalMart also carries it.

2. Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm. I'm kinda picky about my lip gloss/balm. At one point I had an entire drawer full (that was, uh, pre-child. Now they're just choking/mess hazards). When I found out what went into a lot of them - YOU PUT THEM ON YOUR MOUTH, FOR THE LUVVA GAWD - I got even pickier. Burt's Bees works, tastes good, and you can find it practically everywhere. Shopper's, WalMart, Target.

3. Live Clean "Clean Air" Shampoo & Conditioner. Okay, I'm not sure how 'readily available' this one actually is to you Yanks. I think it's a Canadian company. But it's organic, vegan, sulfate & paraben free, and it actually cleans your hair. And smells pretty. WalMart carries it here in Canada. They have a baby line, too, which I haven't found or tried yet, and unfortunately the rest of their hair product line (mousse, hairspray) rates a good solid shrug.

4. Bare Escentuals Mineral Foundation. This may seem like a no-brainer - it's just minerals! - but it contains things like titanium dioxide that aren't super great to be inhaling, considering its powder form. But, otherwise, it's a freakin' miracle foundation. The infomercials are right. (I hate that.) You can find it at Sephora, or order it online.

That's certainly not all the products I've found that work, but they're in the few I've found at common retailers. So do me a favour, folks, since each and every one of you have touched my life, and I'd be really bummed if you caught The Cancer. Check out your local health food stores, and maybe try out a few of the products. If you find something that won't kill you and actually works, let us all know. Large retailers aren't going to carry that stuff unless we tell them to.

Aaaannnnd, that's me, off my soapbox for at least another month. Back to zombies, comics, and Advil-Robaxacet-red wine cocktails. Happy Friday, y'all.

What is the world coming to? I really need this vacation: Random Tuesday Thoughts


This is where I usually write my witty Tuesday intro, but I'm feeling kind ofOH HOLY CRAP DID YOU SEE THAT??

What? You missed it?

Well, you blinked and missed the witty Tuesday intro, too. So we're just going to launch right in.

I bought a skirt today. I have no idea why. I'm not a skirt person. I don't like to show my legs, I don't feel comfortable in skirts, someone might mistake me for a GIRL. But, every so often, I am suddenly enamoured of the thought of being a "skirt person". Even though I know I'll probably only wear it once, and then shove it to the back of the closet, and literally have to dust it off when I need to go to the wedding of someone I don't know or out for dinner 2 weeks after giving birth when I'm unable to fit into anything resembling actual pants.

Plus, it was seven dollars. SEVEN DOLLARS. It would be a crime not to buy it.

Check back next week. I'll be hosting a giveaway for a skirt.

No, not really. Next week I'm on vacation. We're heading out to the land of milk and honey and Captain Dumbass. For a whole week! I know, I totally don't deserve it. Especially since I'm far too lazy to prepare posts in advance to entertain y'all, and I called in some favours. You don't need to know details, but let's just say it will still be entertaining and Jenni gets to keep her kneecaps, after all.

I think I gave the guest bloggers a theme, but I may have been drinking at the time. So if nudity offends you, maybe you should take a vacation too.

Paper towel. Maple syrup.

What? I need to get groceries. And no, that isn't some bizarre Canadian reference. I had waffles for dinner and used up all the damn syrup, okay?

I haven't heard a peep out of the alleged Firefly MMO in development but now there's this? JUST FUCKING KILL ME NOW.

My thoughts are really short today.

Have you entered my book giveaway yet? What, you think you know everything about parenting or something?

Really? Can you clue me in? Because my kid is a fucking savage.

I AM OUT OF WINE HOW IN THE HELL COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED? Seriously, who's in charge here??

Well this is clearly an emergency, so I have to go. Make yourself at home. Grab that button there. Entertain everyone else with your own random thoughts, and make sure you say hi to Mr. Linky!

What Frogmama and I did while y'all were at BlogHer

Okay, it's an artists rendering, but that's because it's really hard to take a photograph when you're bungee jumping out of a plane, over Mt. Everest, at sunset. With a unicorn.

There was also a Carebear on board but oops! We forgot his parachute

Also, it's not in color because you don't deserve it I'm lazy. If it was in color, you'd be able to tell that the plane was flown by Hugh Jackman and was farting rainbows. If someone wants to babysit my kid for 8 hours, I'll make a nice color version. Or go back in time and strap a camera to Frogmama's ass.

So, jealous much?

Let it be known that I am not a cocktease

So I taunted you with the promise of a post about Saturday night's sex tradeshow excursion, but I've been kind of at odds about it. Blogging about sex and it's accoutrements is not really my bailiwick. I usually leave that up to the Petras of the writing world; they do it, and they do it well.

So to speak.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm very glad people share these things. Otherwise I might have been startled to find myself sipping a Cosmopolitan while surrounded by every shape, size, color and flavor of dildo ever created.

(As it was I could casually browse the merchandise and say things like, "Oohhh, this one is a DUAL vibe," without appearing like a complete idiot. I hope.)

I am going to point out here that I don't go out much anymore. It's not that I don't like to have a good time - it's just that I wrung the last drop of appeal out of the "loud bar and bad cover band" scene ages ago, and not a lot else happens around here. So when opportunities like this arise (heh - double entendre anyone?), you jump on them (and again! Okay, I'm done). Except that so does everybody else.

And it's a small city, folks. In a teeming crowd of drunks carrying bags of sex toys, I ran into at LEAST five people that I never wanted to have to picture having sex. Ever.

Because "Taboo - The Naughty But Nice Sex Show" was less of a tradeshow and more of an opportunity for many vendors to hawk their wares. Which is fine, I'm up for an evening of cocktails and shopping. But a couple of acquaintances were awfully proud of their purchases, and I'm cursed with a vivid imagination. Shudder.

There were lotions, potions, costumes, jewelry, supplements (including some super sketchy 'all natural party drug' that you 'sold to your friends who sold to THEIR friends'), piercing, hot tubbing, pole dancing classes, and every kind of sex toy you could possibly imagine.

And some you probably didn't want to. I'm looking at YOU, "J-Ho blow up doll".

A few stray thoughts:

"Oh, look, people in cages."

"Glass dildos? Really? I mean, it looks pretty sturdy, but still...I have had enough stitches down there thankyouverymuch."

"Oooh! Free glitter!"

"Is shopping at the "Five Dollar" rack a good idea?"

To be honest we were hoping for a bit more "entertainment". There was supposed to be a drag show, but I guess we missed it, as well as the belly dancing. There were seminars (including "Why Pyrex glass?" which might have been helpful), but...seminars? After 3 drinks? There was a stage show featuring a local vendor, which was okay and had some lovely physical specimens, but that was about it. There was body painting, but nothing groundbreaking, and the models just stood there.

FoN said, "I thought there'd be more wandering entertainment." I thought so, too, but would you really want to amble half-naked through a packed floor of semi-rednecks that had been drinking all night?

(The answer to that is a resounding, "How much liquor have I been plied with?").

So, it was a couple of hours of good entertainment before we headed off to the loud bar and cover band*. Here's the girls with their evenings purchase (ten bucks! with batteries! fits in your purse for emergencies! and waterproof. SOLID BUY, people):

Yes, I bought one too. And, much like the post about my uterus, this is probably the one and only time I'll mention THAT.

(Probably should have sprung for the latex Batgirl costume though).

*It was a GOOD cover band, so it was still fun.

Some thoughts on a fashion show

A local boutique clothing store, coincidentally the one that my friend Fashionista runs, held a fashion show recently to benefit summer school programs for autistic children. I'd never been to a fashion show, and it was a good cause, and oooh! fabulous clothes! I went. Aren't you wondering what I thought?

Well, too bad and shut up.

1. It doesn't matter how dressed up you are, at a fashion show you're underdressed. I should have just cut my losses and worn sweatpants. I could have eaten more of those little cupcakes they're serving.

2. OMG, I love that bag.


4. OMG! They're raffling it off! Buy buy buy!

5. Yeah, serving wine was probably a sound business decision here.

6. Okay, I know that I actually KNOW those people in real life, but they're skinny and beautiful and wearing fabulous clothes so I HATE THEM.

7. If that shirt weren't being worn by someone tall and blonde and gorgeous (WHO I HATE), she would look like Mrs. Roper.

8. Why does men's fashion usually consist mostly of things actual men won't wear?

9. Oh, right. That's the case with women too.

10. Sitting here heckling the models with a group of friends is so high school. I LOVE IT.

11. Okay, I want that.

12. That too.

13. That is HOW MUCH? BwahhahhahhahHAHHAHAH!!! Okay, never mind. I could make several mortgage payments instead.

14. Oooh, more cupcakes!

15. Okay, I didn't win the bag. I can go home now.

16. After one more cupcake. Nom.

Wine and body parts: Random Tuesday Thoughts


It's that time again....I wonder how many of these things I've done? And if you added up all the random thoughts, would you get a story?

Feelin' scatterbrained and random? Need to take a mental piss before you can write properly? Grab the button, write an incohesive post, and ta-da! We can take that "does not play well with others" status off of your report card.

So, let's go!

I've recently decided that Weight Watchers can suck it when it comes to my wine during blogging. I'm just not as clever without it. It keeps up my spirits. Really, wine is essential to my success as a blogger.

Why yes, I can rationalize anything, why do you ask?

So I posted yesterday about my one over-developed ab (My keg, if you will, yes, thank you for that visual, Beth, remind me to repay you somehow) and how it's making life on that side of my body uncomfortable, but I didn't mention the various other self-diagnoses I ran through before arriving at that conclusion. Like, oh I don't know, a potentially enlarged liver. (See above). Or a lump on my lung or possibly some kind of pancreas injury.

That last one I kind of had mixed feelings about, because several many years ago in a fit of drunken hilarity (at least to us), a bunch of us all put five bucks into a pot, which was to be paid out to the first of us to require pancreatic surgery. And I totally had that $40 spent.

Yes, I have always been this demented, why do you ask?

Is it just me, or does "unoaked" shiraz taste like, well, someone shoved a bunch of grapes into an aluminum can to rot?

Hubby is off work all week because he needed a vacation. I could totally get into this "house husband" thing. So far he's cleaned the garage (um, no)
put up the drapes (wait, not quite)
done the dishes ( uh...)
finished the requirements to get our house energy efficient (okay, THAT one might even earn us money
swept up dog hair (in his defense, there's a LOT of it)
gotten up with the toddler so I could sleep in
...napped on the couch and fed the toddler ice cream.

Wait. WHY does anybody have a house husband, again?

Apparently now it can't be a Tuesday, or even a day ending in -day, without me mentioning zombies, because people keep sending me links like this.

Which? Totally practical for when the time comes and all, but, maybe not so much with a toddler around.

Also, I don't know if I've mentioned this or not, but ZOMBIES FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. Stop making me think about them!

Despite all my talking about zombies here, exactly ONE google search containing the word 'zombie' has lured someone in. Yet there are all these sites and links about zombies that people are perfectly happy to send me. Which makes me conclude with scientific certainty that all zombie sites and campaigns are popularized VIRALLY.

Wait. Zombies...viral. Viral zombies. Zombies could be spread by a virus.

Crap. They don't even have to EXIST, and they're going to take over the internet.

Is there some kind of additional ingredient to "unoaked" shiraz that I'm not informed on?

This photo of my son in the bath is residing happily on Photobucket, but a photo of his naked butt got deleted. They must have an automatic "butt recognition" program or something? Who designs such software, and how is their job satisfaction? Or is it just one guy going through all the uploaded pics looking for ass crack?

Because I might need a new job. I suck at programming, but I'm good with butts.

So someone better start paying me to blog before I am sucked into the seedy world of photobucket porn. Til then, keep it random...grab the button, blather away (with or without wine, it's not mandatory, though I recommend it), and leave your link with Mr. Linky. Try to visit a few of the other participants, because everybody on this list RAWKS!

Happy Tuesday, ya'll!