santa claus is following me. true story.

I don't mean to seem paranoid, but I have a strange suspicion that Santa Claus is following me on all my trips. First the cruise to Mexico, and now to France. I really shouldn't complain because I'm typically a much nicer person on vacation than I am at home, mostly because of the large quantities of alcohol consumed. And if this is the time he decides to check up on me, then I'm definitely getting extra gifts under the tree next year. Or maybe just a Mac laptop. That would make me very happy, Santa.

i am the proud owner of the world's dumbest dog

When I came home from work today, I discovered that Snugglepuss had gotten her head stuck in a blanket sometime during the day. At first glance I started to panic because I was pretty sure she couldn't breathe, but then I noticed her tail start to wag. She wasn't dying, so it was perfectly acceptable to grab the camera and make fun of her. Bailey joined in too, because we're an incredibly supportive family.

I love this shot of her after she freed one of her paws. It only took another minute or two for her to figure out how to shred the blanket and free herself.


My entertainment quota for the day has now been met. Thanks, Snugglewugglepuss. Maybe I'll even let you sleep with us on the bed tonight.

how am i supposed to develop self-esteem when my own parent doesn't even want to be friends with me?

During our trip to France with the Parental Units (note to self: blog about France trip), I tried to convince Bernie he should open up a Facebook account. I thought since he finally had a camera phone and had actually learned how to send photo text messages, he might be ready to jump into the world of Facebook.

Last night, during my nightly-bus-ride-home-facebook-stalking-routine, I stumbled onto Marcus’ page, where I learned that he had just become friends with Bernie. Here is my thought process…

BERNIE HAS FACEBOOK! YAY! Oh, wait…I’m discovering this through Marcus’ page, meaning Bernie and Marcus are friends, and I am not friends with Bernie. And I have no pending friend requests. And now I am starting to cry.

Though a text conversation with Marcus I discovered that yes, Bernie had in fact requested to be friends with Marcus, or “sit at the cool-kids table” as Marcus put it.

So here I am, patiently waiting for Bernie to add me as a friend too, while I wipe away my tears and try to re-build my destroyed self-confidence. My own parent doesn’t even want to be friends with me.

Also, I was going to point out to AARP that I have a Facebook account, which obviously means that I’m too young to have a AARP membership, but then I realized that if Bernie has one…. (JUST KIDDING, BERN!)

*UPDATE: Bernie has now requested me to be his friend, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to accept. I need some time to heal my wounds.

aarp is on my list. the shit list.

Earlier this week, I contacted AARP about the membership card I received in the mail. This is the email response I received from them:

Dear Ms. P,

Thank you for contacting us. Please accept our apology for the AARP membership invitation you received in the mail.

The names for membership solicitation come from a variety of mailing lists. AARP screens its lists carefully and requests that list suppliers provide only names of people age 50 and older. However, the information on some lists may be inaccurate. Your name may have also appeared on a special interest mailing list because you enjoy a particular hobby or pastime. AARP looks at age as well as special interests to help identify prospective members.

Please provide your full name, address and/or membership identification code exactly as they appear on the mailing you received recently to an AARP Member Service Associate at our toll-free number shown below. This will enable us to correct the problem.Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Sincerely,

M.

Was this letter suppose to be an apology? Because I see it more as pouring lemon juice on my open wound. First send me an AARP card, and then insist you sent it because I enjoy certain hobbies and pastimes. Well, I have declared war on AARP and will be focusing on embracing my youthful side. This includes switching out Billy Joel on my playlist for Taylor Swift, spending my evenings rollerblading (don't you EVEN act like rollerblading is not the height of coolness), and staying up past ten. Take that, AARP! Bam!

Also, has anyone from AARP ever seen me dance?

so cruel, yet so wonderful

My step-sister Bria recently started a food blog which I find to be quite cruel. But because I am an incredible person, I have forgiven her.

Now only if she would post the recipe for those homemade chocolate caramel marshmallows she was talking about…

do you see this?

This photo is the exact reason why you should be able to approve the photos people tag you in on Facebook.

when i saw this photo i almost jumped on a plane

I miss these two kids so damn much. They're long overdue for a snuggle session with their Tia Cat.

i totally understand bailey's feelings towards nail polish remover

It's exactly the same way I feel about the smell that comes from the kitchen when Ryan makes eggs. Absolutely nauseating.

is it because i go to bed before 10?

Do you want to know what I got in the mail yesterday?

THIS!




Is it because I go to bed before 10? That I listen to Anita Baker? And James Taylor? Or is it because I'm most comfortable driving in the right lane? Maybe it's that I prefer NPR to music while driving in my car. And that I use a pill organizer to keep my daily medications organized. Or maybe it's that warm cup of tea I have each night before I go to bed.

who else is anxious for the denim shirt to make a comeback?

A few weeks ago I logged into my Facebook account only to discover that the class photo from my most awkward year had been posted by one of my 6th grade classmates. And Ten Cow, being the fabulous friend she is, just couldn't resist tagging me in it. Awkward bangs and all. For all the Facebook world to see. I have since forgiven her, but only because she introduced me to Diet Sunkist.

My 6th grade year was apparently the year of denim and golf shirts. Gap from head to toe, topped off with a braided belt.

The same classmate who posted our 6th grade photo also posted our 1st grade photo, a much less awkward year for me. This was the year of the frilly dress and polka dots. I'm proud I went with the polka dots for a bit of an edgier look.

Note: For those of you who struggling to spot me, I will give you a hint - I am in the same spot in both photos.