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I want to visit squishy girl!

That's www.squishygirl.com for those of you not brave enough to click the link!

Moving Day....

Hello internets,I have moved my bloggy blog. There were lots of boxes to pack, styrofoam peanuts to throw, and marshmallows to eat, but alas, I got it done. I'm still getting comfy in my new space, but I'm ready for visitors! I have successfully moved over each of my previous posts, however, the pictures did not make the move with me. It was too much work internets!!Just too much work! Do not worry though sweet little webs'o'mine,I will provide you with even more pictures!!!and exciting things!! on my new blog! Are you ready for this??Are you REALLY ready for this??you can now find me on....

www.squishygirl.com

That's RIGHT- I've gone all kindsa dot commy on your internet!I'm officially a dot commer now. I'll sign autographs later. Please join me though! It will be fun, I promise! and I'll make cake! That always makes a change a good one,right?

I'm the next star of a horror movie.

UGH. Just UGH people. We don't live in the big city, in a high rise building with cabs on each corner. I get that. I get that the closest thing we have to a cab is the city bus that stops at every 20 blocks to pick up ancient people who want to go "into town" for a chili dog. However, what I DON'T get is why every black widow or brown recluse spider has chosen to set up shop in my house.

INNNN. MAAAAHHHHH.HOOOUUUSSSE.!!!!!

We live on what was once farming fields.We have huge wasps that swoop down into our faces each summer and make Ed ask atleast ONCE per summer "What purpose to wasps serve?!WHY GOD???WHYYYYYY?" This year we didn't exactly keep up on the pest control. I'm not working full time so we thought- do we really NEEEED it? Guess what?

WE NEEEEEEDZ IT!!!We needz it like Anoop needs to be back on American Idol.(Anoop you were my favorite. You haz talent!)

I wasn't exactly positive of the extent to which we needed it until last night. I came home to relax in my recliner with some snacks...caramel vanilla infused super puffed marshmallows if you must know- they were on clearance at Target, and they were SEASONAL. Who doesn't love a limited-time-only snack? And God knows, any snack in my house is there for a limited time only.

So any way- me,my recliner, my marshmallows. I sit, and happen to see a HUUUUGGGEEE black spider in the door of our bathroom. I get closer- squinting my eyes in case it jumps into my eyes and bites me (don't act like that couldn't happen. I once had a grasshopper leap onto my eye that would.NOT.let.go.) and I see that it has a "violin shaped red marking on its back." Cue the hyperventilation. So I call Ed and shriek various things into the phone...that went something like "Hello Spiderkiller? Come home now. I need the spider killer. I AM NOT the spider killer!!" He told me to shove a towel under the door and close it. Do you even KNOW how hard it is to shove a towel under a door--or anywhere for that matter, with your eyes squinted almost shut, and your body breaking out into cold sweats? I had Ed's slipper in my hand for protection, but then I thought "who am I kidding, I'm going to scream if this thing even LOOKS at me- I can't try to beat it!" Also, I had visions of its legs growing longer, reaching out to attach to my arm and then eating me alive. So that kind of put a hold on any courage I was working up. Ed got home and right away he killed it.

And now- NOW do you know what I am looking at? TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER? ANOTHER huge spider crawling up my wall in the kitchen. It's on my new paint!! I can't smash a spider on my new paint! Once again I called my spider killer and he said he'd be home soon but I don't know- this thing seems to be migrating and it just might eat me before then. I just know they're going to start with my toes and I won't even be able to enjoy flip flops this summer. SO, if I'm not around to blog anymore, please know that I loved you internets, and I thought you were just swell.

Tot Fest 2009!

I have a certain friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, that is a lot like me in regards to enjoying the simple things in life. She,like myself, can find simple joy in a day spent in pajamas, a mug full of icecream, a walk through the neighborhood, and the tots. The tots?you ask. Oh yes, the tots. No, I'm not talking about babies, nor their pudgy rubberband wrists that inspire you to chew on them...that's another blog, for yet another time. I'm talking about the unbridled love for a food product that is surpassed by none,and saltier than most. The tater tot.

This friend and I have been plotting for months to have a mutual meeting of the minds and stomachs,where she and I could combine our love of a)pajamas b)icecream and c)tots. That meeting occured this last Saturday. I.Still.have.not.recovered. She said "bring the tots!!" I said to self while at the store "Self, why not have tots AND potato wedges?!" Because as you are already well aware, you can NEVER have too many potato filled salty crunchy items at a gathering. NEV-ER. So I got the tots, AND the wedges, and some macaroni salad for good measure. Why macaroni salad? I cannot tell you. It was my wild card item for this event to be sure. It sounded good. Oh and onion dip...for chips, I thought. (This applies later, you'll see.)

So I arrive at totty friend's house, with the husband in tow. Our husbands are also friends, but they believe we are certifiably crazy, so they chose to leave the tot fest. Why? I don't know. They said something about "you guys are DISGUSTING!!" and then left. Whatev. This did not slow us down, nor give us cause to pause. No-sir-ee, we were on a totterific mission I tell you, and as soon as I pulled out the wedges we both squealed with glee and began placing them on a cookie sheet to be baked.

While they baked we noshed (I really don't like the word "noshed" but I've always wanted to use it. so there-noshed. noshidy nosh noshed) on chips and dip and diet pepsi.Oh lord the pepsi. Nectar of the sodium deprived gods!!! She said something like "I FEEL IT IN MY VEINS!!!!" while I shoved another chip in my mouth. Had someone been standing outside the door listening, the authorities would have been called.

Then the glorious ding of the oven sounded, and she looked at me like a deer anticipating the painful bumper of a car, but the fun ride through the air, and we both jumped up to go to the source of said ding. The oven. Out they came, smelling delicious and looking like a hot smooshy salty fantasy. See, I haven't had the tots since I was atleast 15. I have memories of rolling them between my fingers in the cafeteria as a pudgy 10 year old, encrusting the salt underneath my nails to be savored after getting back to class. Gah, I was a gross kid. Not much has changed. She showed me (being a much more experienced Tot lover than I ) how to dip them in pepper covered ketchup. By accident, ahem, we noticed that if they rolled into the spot where the onion dip had been, it tasted..GREAT. AND, if the tot happened to saunter on over to the macaroni salad? DIVINE. So basically we had a triple dip situation going on-with every surface on our plates becoming a tot dip!oh it was glorious. But short lived? Did you know that tots can fill you up fast? All of a sudden I found myself saying things like "these tots won't go down my throat" and "gah,this plate is getting heavy, I think I've just hit a whole new level over here" and she uttered "I'm so full but I think I can get justonemore in!"

When the husbands got home they looked at us, laying back in bloated glory, visions of beauty to behold, of that I am sure.Is it wrong to be able to gross out your own husband? I don't know, but if it is, I don't want to be right. Underneath all of those "Gah you guys ATE all that?" and "I think I'm going to barf just THINKING about its" I'm pretty sure deep down they were impressed. The next morning my fingers still smelled of tots. Sweet sweet memories.

I went all presidential mental.

Ok, so Ed and I took a vacation to our nation's capital this past week, with the hopes of getting into the whitehouse, having lunch with President Obama, petting their new dog, taking him for a walk, and ending world hunger. We were not able to accomplish most of these. Ok..any of these. We ALMOST got into the whitehouse gates when one of them broke, and the Secret Service agents got a little antsy in their pantsies, which I must say was fun to watch.

I honestly thought to myself---what would happen...if I just yelled "SUCKAAAAAS!!" when the gate wouldn't close and ran through? I thought this aloud to Ed, and he thought I might get shot. To which I thought, "self, not a good idea". I DID however feed one of President Obama's pets. NO, not Bo Diddley, he's just the dog. I fed three of the president's squirrels a cookie, and they indeed promised me to do what they could to end world hunger once they got back into the whitehouse gates themselves. To which I responded "Two more cookies if you can promise to end the Iraq war NOW." They said they would see what they could do. So that was, in my opinion, a success.


Ed and I took one of those double decker tour buses while we were there. Yes, we were THOSE people. Let me say this- it was cold in DC, bordering on frigid. On the top of a double decker bus? It was antarctica, and I shared my seat with a penguin if you don't believe me. The wind was cutting and swift, and Ed and I were alarmed at just how red my nose could get at such temperatures. Still, we both said "MUST.SIT.ON.TOP.FOR.BEST.VIEW!." So sit on top we did. The best part of the double decker top deck was the dodging of random japanese cherry tree branches. It was like being whipped in the face with the executive branches of freedom! The bus had an announcement about said branches, yet people STILL went into shock and awe mode (as in AWW!That got my EYE!!)whenever one whipped them in the face. Ed would inadvertantly yell "WATCH YER EYEEEE!!" when he saw one coming at the tourists in front of us, and they did not, because they were too busy with LOOK!! A MARBLE COLUMN!! Still, it was fun to watch them get whacked, I'm not going to lie. I snickered to myself, and maybe a little bit outloud, if I'm being honest.


So, as were sitting on said tour bus, we noticed that fire trucks,police cars,ambulances and ANYTHING else that could make noise were surrounding us at every cross street. I went betweeen trying to find out what was going on, and ducking under the railing of the bus, thinking that perhaps a 12 ft monster cherry tree branch had taken over the city and was going to whip me in the face for my snickering any moment. So all of the tourists on the top are getting all antsy...they're all "What's going on?" "I need to catch the red bus!!!THE RED BUS LEAVES IN 5 MINUTES!! I wish I had bought a pretzel at the last block! These stupid buses stop for anything!!" And then Ed, being the genius that he is, throws it out there "WHAT IF ITS THE PRESIDENT?!" To which everyone went all currraaazy and got their cameras ready just in case.

So I was a bit late on the trend, and Ed turns to me and says "THE CAMERA~!~~THE CAMERA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I fumbled it out and Ed throws himself to the front of the bus, just in time to see the Presidential motorcade coming through. I lost my cool in these moments. I have never lurved a president as much as I lurve me some Obama, so when I saw the motorcycles, and then the black cars with the seal, I went 29 kinds of crazy. Poor Ed was trying to video tape, meanwhile, I'm screaming behind him "IT'S HIM!!!!OMG IT'S HIM!WAAAAAAAAVE!!!HE JUST HONKED!!OMG THE PRESIDENT HONKED AND WAAAAAAAAVED!!" and then it was over. Oy people. Just OY. It was the coolest thing ever. It made me want to thank those squirrels who had kindly told the president that I wanted to see him. It made me want a pretzel like the one I had the day before after the Holocaust museum (It was the size of 2 of my heads and soft as a pillow. Apparently the holocaust made me hungry. I'm just wrong like that.)It was cool.

All in all, our vacation was amazing. We ended up seeing Colin Powell speak on the front step of the Lincoln memorial.This too, had me a bit crazy. I began to wonder if maybe the government was eventually going to hunt me down, woo me with a pretzel, and send me to Guantanamo.


Couple this, with the fact that when I saw President Lincoln's top hat, I practically smooshed my nose into the glass so that I could REALLY see it. Stupid protective glass!!! That stuff was everywhere. I wanted to FEEL the real constitution- not look at it through GLASS! Granted, it would have crumbled beneath my finger tips, but apparently I'm a very sensory based tourist. Obviously, I had the thought of jumping out of my double decker bus when the president passed to chase after him and "feel the president" but again, this might not have been the smartest idea. I pictured myself again, in Guantanamo, asking for another pretzel, and a diet dr pepper if they didn't mind.

So that's that. Back home, and feeling quite lucky that I got to see the president in his car. I didn't feel him, but I am going to consult my squirrels on getting a handshake the next time I'm in town.

Jen is:staring at the carpet.

Lately I've become part of the mass of sheeple that herds themselves into Facebook day in and day out to check out my friends' status updates.I used to not care what my friends were doing every minute of the day- but now!!it's so!!!exciting!!!One of them just went to the grocery store!!!Omg- ME TOO!!! Another one just cleaned her kitchen! What the what?! I just did that today! See, there are some people that only update when it's I'mthekingoftheworld (ala Leo Dicaprio) exciting. They'll post things like "Just bought a new car!!" or "Just gave birth!" (To which my question then becomes, just WHERE is your computer at this point?) Then there's what the mass of sheeple, myself included, will do. We post things like "I'm eating pizza right now!!!" or "I'm clipping my toenails!!" or "I'm eating pizza AND clipping my toenails!!" I would never actually CALL any of my friends to give them this exciting information, but oh I will just post the heck out of it on a status update! because what if they DON'T know what I'm doing? Maybe none of us should have window coverings anymore. Isn't that the best kind of status update right there? Look!!I'm walking into my kitchen naked and balancing a bowl of cereal on my...well, just look!

I have a theory that music has something to do with it. The other day, while listening to the radio, I heard a song, that sounded more like a Twitter update than a song. It was catchy, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was considered song writing if you just talk to music. It was Lady Gaga's "Just Dance" It starts out:
I've had a little bit too much
All of the people start to rush
(Start to rush by)

A dizzy twister dance
Can't find my drink or man
Where are my keys, I lost my phone

Ok, so right about where she says "Where's my keys, I lost my phone" I gave an incredibly confused look to my radio. Did she just sing that she lost her keys and can't find her phone? I've HAD that experience!!! I've DONE that!! Can I sing too? Maybe I AM A SONGWRITER!!! Ok, my song would go something like this:

Just cleaned the cat litter
where's the Scrubbing Bubbles
I need a diet pepsi
then I'll get bloated
So I'll just have water
Did you check the mail?

I think it would be a hit. Ok so THEN Lady Gaga tells us MORE about her exciting life! She goes on to say:

Wish I could shut my playboy mouth
How'd I turn my shirt inside out?
(Inside out right)

Well, I've had this experience. I HAVE put on my shirt inside out, but I was never in public, and I didn't ASK anyone how it got that way- I guess I was able to deduce that I had indeed put my shirt on inside out. And then I changed it. Would I use this as a status update? "Jen wants to know how her shirt got inside out." My friends on facebook would then post things in response such as "Hooker!"

I guess it's better if you sing it though.

I broke up with the gym.

Today was a day of reckoning. Today, I came face to face with every squishy girl's nightmare- quitting the gym, when you look like you shouldn't be doing anything other than walking in,grabbing a towel, and working out like you're trying to rid your butt of the 4 million orphans you've been smuggling inside since Christmas.

The truth is, I haven't been to the gym since the month after I was married. Ed and I joined prior to the wedding (Complete with personal trainers!!!!....!!) in order to rid ourselves of the smuggled orphans before we jiggled down the aisle toward matrimony.This proved helpful, and I jiggled less so down the aisle than I would have without joining the gym. My personal trainer did what I paid her to- she said things like "You're gonna barf? There's the trash can- 10 more reps Jen!!!!" and "You know, you and I weigh the same- I just have muscle tone." I went to pilates class after pilates class, and loved balancing my orphansinthebutt on a tiny ball with my legs in the air, while focusing on my breathing. It was fun while it lasted.

Then we went to Maui for the honeymoon, and I swam with the turtles, and convinced myself that there couldn't be THAT many calories in macadamia nut slaw, and that all the sweating I was doing while shopping for hibiscus flower sunhats was really helping me to keep muscle tone too. After the honeymoon, I went to about one more pilates class, which actually helped to convince me I had decided to adopt every orphan hiding in my butt (marriage then the carriage, right people?) and I forfeited my final sessions with the trainer. I didn't, however, quit the gym.

I first tried to break up with the gym 6 months ago. I walked in proudly in my business attire (clearly NOT there to work out) and told the young man at the counter I wanted to quit the gym. He said "But you still have personal trainer sessions!!! Can I schedule them for you now, so you don't lose out?" I said, no (because why in the world would I want to meet with a trainer, only to have them guilt me into buying MORE sessions, which would then lead to another vicious cycle) and he then told me he would rather I "Postpone" my membership to give me a chance to think about if I really wanted to quit the gym, because what about the rockwall?!!? the cycling classes?!!? the pilates!??!?! So, because I felt like if I denied these wondrous assets of the gym I would be giving this man no reason to go on..(I could see it in the news already headlined: Gym employee commits suicide over squishy girl quitting gym with no respect for rockwall)So for 6 months, I have been "postponing" my membership, apparently "thinking it over" which has really been me saying "Can I quit now? I do weight watchers and lost more weight eating smart than working out til I barf."

So, today, I did it. I ate lunch at Taco Bell (El Fresco menu thankyouverymuch) and walked over with Ed to break up with the gym. The employees were helpful in the sense that they were kind of jerky to us squishy people. One of them was clearly a model for some company somewhere, but I held my head up tall(while sucking in my gut). The worst part was when they said they had to take my little keychain card. So, there I was, chicken fat arms flapping in the breeze, trying to wriggle my card free, and then put it on the table, and walked my orphan filled butt on out the door. It was freeing in the "free to be fat you and me" sense.

Dear Gym with the rockwall,

It was time. You knew it, I knew it. I was sweating you in a way that wasn't good. You no longer made my thighs burn in exhaustion, and I no longer made you look good. So, it's better that we end it this way. You will find another, I'm sure. Some squishy girl looking to tone up for the big day- she'll swear it's for forever- but don't believe her. She's only in it for the wedding. She has no plans to make this a "lifestyle." This squishy girl needed the freedom to spend Saturday morning going on walks with her husband, rather than cursing an elliptical and watching subtitled tvs while sweat dripped in her eyes. You never know though, your next squishy girl might be different. Good luck and good riddance.

I always wiped down my machine,

Squishy Girl

You can call me Disturbed. So disturbed.

You know how there are those things you see on a daily basis that make you laugh so hard (but on the inside, because it's not appropriate to laugh that hard at something on tv outloud, like its your only friend,saving you from stepping outside the bubble of your cozy home and convenient whirly popper ready to make kettle corn at a moments notice)?

Well, I just had a reminder of something that I've seen daily, I think, and finally I thought to myself- enough is enough. I must write about this, I must share my amusement with others. For what reason, I don't know, but I feel he needs to be shared. Yes, I believe it's a he.He's certain to show up in my dreams, and possibly nightmares, now that I've devoted to him this much thought. You know,this should really be directed toward Denny's.

Dear Denny's people (I know you're probably too busy making fluffy pancakes from a mix that I can buy at the store, to put onto an undeniably sticky plate, which no one can explain since we all WANT to believe it has been washed and refuse to consider the alternative), but I want to share my joy, AND my disturbance with you.

Yes, I am disturbed. Yes, I am full of joy. And I want YOU Mr."I'm going to put strawberry,blueberry,raspberry,and maple syrup on EVERY table even though I know people only use the maple" to understand just why.

It's the nannerpuss.

He comes on my screen, all "You can call me Nannerpuss,Nannerpuss" and I instantly have to remove my head from my reduced fat Nilla Wafer/Cheez-it box (whatever I happen to have my head in at the moment) and watch him. It's almost as if he's speaking to ME. Like he knows, that I LOVE bananas,but I'm horrified of octopi..(Is that the plural of octopusses?)

So Mr."I'll make you wait for a table so you can eat your Grand Slam and then feel like you need to poop a submarine", as you can guess, I'm perplexed with my emotional complexity. Am I horrified? Do I want a banana? Does my fear MAKE me want a banana? I don't know. But Nannerpuss is causing me to want to hide all the bananas on my kitchen counter, and cut up my membership card to the aquarium- ALL AT THE SAME TIME.I don't know anymore. Maybe I should make my own nannerpuss, and then eat him, quelching my fear AND my hunger. Take THAT Dennys. TAKE THAT.

Witness the Madness!

HONNNK HOOOOOOONKKKKKK

Ed loves to bike ride. In fact, when we first met in college, I thought he only owned a bike. Given my past boyfriends-this was considered an upgrade!Hey, a bike! Maybe I can ride in the basket!I can carry the icecream! It was some form of transportation, so hey, it was A-OK in my book. So, he was the boy with the bike, and I memorized which bike on the rack was his, so I could appropriately stalk him each morning when I arrived on campus.Oh yes, I was totally the aggressor in our relationship. However, I digress.

So, my history with bikes is, to say the least, strained. My parents were in love with biking, and would take me biking in Lake Tahoe each summer, through mountainy trails and rugged terrain. After all, there is nothing better than camping for 3 days straight, dirt under your fingernails, grease in your hair,dusty knees...and then climbing on a mountain bike.Nothing.Better. I lived for those brief stops along the way for icecream, or picture taking...or icecream. Then one sunny afternoon on a crowded bike path, it all changed.For the worse. See,my parents insisted I get a "real" mountain bike. I chose my bike for it's most important attribute:color. It was a beeeyuutifful teal green. Yes, teal. It was 1994 people. Anyway, this bike was a "real" mountain bike, in the sense that my feet did NOT touch the ground on either side. This made it more "real." It also made it, "really hard to ride." Note that I am short, and this bike was tall.

So, on this fateful afternoon, I was riding in front of my parents in Lake Tahoe on a sunlit trail. I was admiring the forest, and appropriately honking my mini Sesame Street horn (it was a muppet's nose-I was 14, but not too old for muppets) when pesky pedestrians got in my way. Then, a butterfly happened. It happened to land on my ear. All of my love of nature flew right into the bush with me, when I promptly screamed, tried to stop (oh but wait, FEET.NOT.TOUCHING.GROUND!!)and flew right into a bush. People laughed. I walked my bike back to camp.



So, I'm very....ehhhh, I'd rather walk when it comes to bikes. But, Ed loves him some bike riding so I had to build a bridge and get over it.

So we bought a bike for me, again, chosen by color (purple!!) and size(kid sized!!!just for me!!!) and this time, I could touch my feet to the ground!! We also bought a bike seat cover with gel padding. I wanted a wider seat (read:TRACTOR SEAT) but Ed said I would look like an idiot. This didn't bother me, but apparently, it did him. So we bought the bike, and came home. All the way home, I had visions of me riding my shiny new bike,and all of the accessories I could purchase for said shiny new bike(pink flower basket anyone?. So we got home, rode around the corner, and then the pain came. Oh it came in huge amounts. I hurt in places I did not know could hurt. Oh the chafing. THE.CHAFING. We ran into neighbors, I smiled through the pain. We had to go home. I could not walk properly for the next 3 days. I swore I would throw the bike away (I'm that mature) and never ride again! My muppet horn days WERE GONE!!!

Then, this week at lunch,a coworker of mine mentioned that she bought a very wide seat for her bike(Read:TRACTOR SEAT), and now could ride for hours on end. This rekindled my dreams of flower baskets and muppet horns in a way I had not anticipated. I would get me that tractor seat, I would look like an idiot-I WOULD RIDE AGAAAAAIIIIINNNN!!! So,I bought my tractor seat, I love it like it's a brand new Chinese baby, and I rode comfortably around for over an hour. Yes, my butt looks huge on it- more than usual. BUT, I think this is the answer for wide butts and sensitive thighs the world over. I did some research on the seat, and supposedly it's great for men with prostate problems. Honestly, my prostate has never felt better.

This is all I've got.

Ok, I warned you people (and by you people, I mean interwebs people that lurk in the shadows of the night wearing sweat pants and eating reduced fat Nilla Wafers like Target won't ever put them on a "price cut" again and you have to buy 4 boxes at a time. Just me? Ok then.)So as I was saying...I warned "you people" that I wouldn't have much to say if I started a blog. So this is all I've got. This is all that's really been bothering me for a week now, enough to write about.

I love icecream sundaes. I love them in any form, and since beginning Weight Watchers, the sundaes have been lonnnng gonnne like Chris Brown's career. GONE I tell you. So, this past weekend, I allowed myself a sundae. A Mcdonald's hot fudge sundae. It's a DOLLAR. UNO DOLARO. How can you pass that up? Ed always gets the cone, because usually we're driving. Does that make this worse? It might. But it's not as bad as my only woe that I feel compelled enough to share with you here, in this sacred space of joy. As I type this I can tell I've got Nilla wafer crumbs in my keyboard. Ahem. As I was saying.

So the Mcdonald's sundae. I like that they give you the packet of nuts seperately, whereas growing up (oh I'm a long time Mcdonald's sundae enjoyer.) they would just put the nuts right on- no questions asked- you got the nuts,like 'em or not. So now, Mcdonalds has decided to give us a choice. Nuts or no nuts- YOU decide. I like that. Thank you Mcdonalds, for the gift of choice. I never can decide if I want them or not, usually I just leave them in the package and think of eating them after, but Ed talks me out of it, for fear that I won't like them and will throw them out the window, only to have the wind blow them back in his car. (This is a long story, but I have a history of throwing icecream products out the window, if I deem them "window worthy")

Anyway, so as I was enjoying my sundae this past weekend, I noticed that I felt more and more tension as I neared the end. It wasn't so much that the sundae experience was drawing to a close, but that I couldn't end it the way I wanted to- which is to get every.last.drop.of.fudge.out.of.the.container.

Guess what interwebs!!! The sundae container has RIDGES!!! THE SPOON does NOT fit perfectly in these ridges!!! I scrape, and I scrape, and I scrape those little scallopy mocking ridges, begging, coercing, forcing the tiny streaks of fudgy goodness onto my ill fitting spoon, but I CAN NEVER GET IT ALL. It's annoying. So, I'm asking,pleading, begging Mcdonalds to just put my sundae in a cup next time. A normal, round edged cup. No ridges, no tension, and I get all my fudge. That's all. I told you this blog would be boring.

They Don't.

Ed and I have always wondered whether his cat that he's had since before me (and that is a lonnng.tiiime.peeeople.) Julie, and our new addition to our kitty brood, Lillie, would get along. We've always pondered this, in a "I dunno, what do you think?" kind of way, that's always left us curious. Curious was a fun place to be, and I was REALLY ok with staying there.


Last night, I left that place.


I was doing my nightly rounds in the kitty rooms (don't ask, our cats have their own rooms, we are THAT couple), scooping litter and refilling water bottles. I had let Lillie out to roam (The reason they don't all roam at the moment, is that we have a piddler amongst us, and our carpet is trying to recover. It's actually trying to recover all the way into new laminate flooring, but the economy is not aiding in the recovery process one bit. Stupid 'conomy.) So I let the Lillster out to roam and went into Julie's room.

Now. Julie is a cat of large..girth shall we say. She's a good 25 lbs or so. White with blue eyes, gorgeous big round head. Julie has always had a "don't mess with me, and I won't scar you for life" kind of agreement with me. She now loves her new mom, and we get along just fine as long as I surrender to any and all of her demands.

So, as I was saying, I had entered the Snow Beast's room. Julie jumped over my leg. Out the door. Lillie was standing behind me. It all then became a blur, of literal tufts of hair flying behind Lillie as she ran down the stairs. I should add that Julie has dagger-like claws, and Lillie is declawed. Julie chased. Oh how she chased. Then, doing what a sane person might do- I chased too! Oh how I chased. I chased and I screamed. It's still a blur, but I'm quite certain it was a combination of "JULIE!!!NOOOO!!NONONONONONO!!! This was followed by an "arhgghaaaaaaaaaaaaagg" as I fell down the last 3 steps.

Once I recovered, I saw that though my chasing had stopped, Julie was still in hot persuit. Lillie was losing tufts of hair by the minute, and as I watched, Lillie jumped from the floor, over the back of the couch, and under the dining room table. Julie looked at me guiltily.

So, question answered. Would they get along? About as well as that lady and the gorilla who ate her face.

Ed didn't believe that it was that bad. But it was. I'm going to need to vaccuum today, because even though they never touched, half of my cat was left all over the floor. Apparently she's a stress shedder.






Lillie, before and after what has become known as "the incident"

Too boring for a blog?

I decided to try and start my very own piece of bloggy history, by creating what you are seeing here. I feel an immense amount of pressure now, to come up with something to write on a regular basis, because I hate HATE hate it when I check on my favorite blogs and there is nothing new. I'm not so egotistical that I think this will become anyone's "Favorite" blog, but I'm hoping that someone, in some far corner of the world, perhaps with nothing to look at but my blog and a Coke bottle lid (because that's all they have in the far corners of the world, you know)might find my little bloggy blog blog something tolerable enough to waste their time on.

So, nothing really to form a blog around at the moment- I'm just sitting here watching American Idol and munching on Reduced Fat Cheez-Its (holy goodness they taste like the full fat version...I'm sort of thinking they actually might be the real thing in the wrong box!)

I'm hoping that the kid with the headbands gets through to the final 12, since he seems like he's had a tough life and he's very genuine in a Boy George kind of way( After Paula said that last night I actually was shocked that I agreed with anything she said). I have the intense desire to type out the lyrics to Karma Chameleon in this space right now, but I will resist...this..is..difficult...lovingyouwouldbeeasyifyourcolorswerelikemydreamsredgoldandgreenredgoldandgreeen.

Oh, he's got the Karma.

Ok, I feel better now. I love me some Boy George/Culture Club. I heard Karma Chameleon while in the grocery store the other day with Ed, and I don't know if it's the fact that I dance and sing in front of my 5th graders almost daily, or what- but I instantly went into song,dance, and bounce-walk mode. It wasn't pretty, and I think my husband wanted to leave the building.Anyway, that's all now. I just found salt in my eyelash from the Cheez-Its. Time to put them down.