(no subject)
The road to hell is not, in fact, paved with good intentions. My road to hell is paved with Tucks Medicated Pads, orthodics and now, gawd, stool softeners. Seriously?? Will the indignities never end?
Apparently not.
For the record homemade mac and cheese, oatmeal cookies and vodka slushies are NOT a recommended combination. Yes, the homemade mac and cheese, oatmeal cookies and vodka slushies I was drooling on myself over last Thursday. Hence the stool softeners.
I live for the day when I will no longer have to italicize evil.
My 'lazy Sunday' thus far has consisted of wrangling two twee beasts while doing 3 loads of laundry, dishes, cycling out all the old, broken toys, baking cookies for the week and gardening. There go those damned italics again but really it had to be done. There was an air quote-unquote rose bush back there that no word of a lie was taller than I am. It had taken over the backyard with it's thorny evil and there are small people about so while Fratboy fixed the bbq and the small folk frolicked I cut that bitch down to size. The domesticity of that particular scene is enough to induce seizures. I should have and could have done a great deal more to the garden but I had started to actually, you know, sweat and there's no need to make baby Jesus cry like that. Plus I forgot to put on sunscreen and The Kneeg gets very cross with me when I start to get anything resembling colour so that was the end of my foray into gardening. For this weekend.
Oh, and I also managed to fit in a quick run to Sobeys to pick up the milk I didn't get yesterday at Price Chopper because Sobey's has it on sale so cheap. And the fact that I even know that is enough to inflame my damned hemorrhoids, as well it should. To say nothing of the fact that once upon a time, not so long ago, one of the tiny cartons would go off before I could even use up the damned shit and now I'm standing there in the grocery aisle thinking "hrm, limit 6? Maybe I should make another stop near the end of the week before the sale ends?". In what alternate universe is 12 LITRES OF MILK not enough??
Just typing that sentence made me drop 2 shots of vodka into my OJ.
I'm just sayin'.
However to counter all that, the bbq is up and running again and tonight Fratboy made meat so good I wept while eating it. Almost as much as I wept at Sex and The City last night. Hi, hormones? I'd rather like to take you out back and fuck you in the skull if that's okay with you? Gizzy I can see why you hated the ending. I didn't love it or hate it, but I can see how it fit the characters so I'm not bitter. About that at any rate. Ha. Which, for the record, I initially typed out as 'hate'. Cuz hi, I have issues. Good thing I'm cute.
I couldn't get over how old everyone looked though. Especially Steve. When did he go from that cute bartender in the bar to the middle aged guy having his mid-life crisis? In five short years?? Seriously??
I be scared.
Though realistically I guess Cyn is right, as always, and that sexy is what you make it. It should have been off-putting to see a 50 year old woman lying naked on a table covered in sushi and I'll be honest, it kind of was. Momentarily. But damn she works that 50 like nobody's business and the beauty of that ending was the girls all toasting 'here's to the next 50' at her birthday and if I can still rock the sexy with a Tucks Medicated Pad shoved in my ass crack then I clearly have nothing to fear.
I can't say I can see myself nekkid on screen covered in raw frigging fish when I'm 50 but then I could never see myself wiping shit with a smile[1] while tending a garden and stocking up on milk like the apocalypse is nigh. So. Who knows.
All in all, it was a damned fine weekend. Complaints aside. Did it sound like I was complaining? I'm not really. Well, okay maybe the cupcakes that tasted like evil are worthy of a minor whingefest but that's a story for another time.
Oh, and my vagina is fine, thanks for asking. In case anyone had any worries that I was about to stop writing about Down There anytime soon. I'm not. You may all breathe a collective sigh of relief now...
[1]Clearly not my own. Hence the stool softeners. Just in case anyone, you know, missed the point there.
Apparently not.
For the record homemade mac and cheese, oatmeal cookies and vodka slushies are NOT a recommended combination. Yes, the homemade mac and cheese, oatmeal cookies and vodka slushies I was drooling on myself over last Thursday. Hence the stool softeners.
I live for the day when I will no longer have to italicize evil.
My 'lazy Sunday' thus far has consisted of wrangling two twee beasts while doing 3 loads of laundry, dishes, cycling out all the old, broken toys, baking cookies for the week and gardening. There go those damned italics again but really it had to be done. There was an air quote-unquote rose bush back there that no word of a lie was taller than I am. It had taken over the backyard with it's thorny evil and there are small people about so while Fratboy fixed the bbq and the small folk frolicked I cut that bitch down to size. The domesticity of that particular scene is enough to induce seizures. I should have and could have done a great deal more to the garden but I had started to actually, you know, sweat and there's no need to make baby Jesus cry like that. Plus I forgot to put on sunscreen and The Kneeg gets very cross with me when I start to get anything resembling colour so that was the end of my foray into gardening. For this weekend.
Oh, and I also managed to fit in a quick run to Sobeys to pick up the milk I didn't get yesterday at Price Chopper because Sobey's has it on sale so cheap. And the fact that I even know that is enough to inflame my damned hemorrhoids, as well it should. To say nothing of the fact that once upon a time, not so long ago, one of the tiny cartons would go off before I could even use up the damned shit and now I'm standing there in the grocery aisle thinking "hrm, limit 6? Maybe I should make another stop near the end of the week before the sale ends?". In what alternate universe is 12 LITRES OF MILK not enough??
Just typing that sentence made me drop 2 shots of vodka into my OJ.
I'm just sayin'.
However to counter all that, the bbq is up and running again and tonight Fratboy made meat so good I wept while eating it. Almost as much as I wept at Sex and The City last night. Hi, hormones? I'd rather like to take you out back and fuck you in the skull if that's okay with you? Gizzy I can see why you hated the ending. I didn't love it or hate it, but I can see how it fit the characters so I'm not bitter. About that at any rate. Ha. Which, for the record, I initially typed out as 'hate'. Cuz hi, I have issues. Good thing I'm cute.
I couldn't get over how old everyone looked though. Especially Steve. When did he go from that cute bartender in the bar to the middle aged guy having his mid-life crisis? In five short years?? Seriously??
I be scared.
Though realistically I guess Cyn is right, as always, and that sexy is what you make it. It should have been off-putting to see a 50 year old woman lying naked on a table covered in sushi and I'll be honest, it kind of was. Momentarily. But damn she works that 50 like nobody's business and the beauty of that ending was the girls all toasting 'here's to the next 50' at her birthday and if I can still rock the sexy with a Tucks Medicated Pad shoved in my ass crack then I clearly have nothing to fear.
I can't say I can see myself nekkid on screen covered in raw frigging fish when I'm 50 but then I could never see myself wiping shit with a smile[1] while tending a garden and stocking up on milk like the apocalypse is nigh. So. Who knows.
All in all, it was a damned fine weekend. Complaints aside. Did it sound like I was complaining? I'm not really. Well, okay maybe the cupcakes that tasted like evil are worthy of a minor whingefest but that's a story for another time.
Oh, and my vagina is fine, thanks for asking. In case anyone had any worries that I was about to stop writing about Down There anytime soon. I'm not. You may all breathe a collective sigh of relief now...
[1]Clearly not my own. Hence the stool softeners. Just in case anyone, you know, missed the point there.