I’m hoping this doesn’t imply his future will consist of bad decisions; despite having awesome hair.
This is almost as good as getting an e-mail from a guy at work named Peter Shaver.
I’m honestly the last person on earth that should have ever been placed in a cubicle for 8 hours a day. If I were brain dead, being idle would be perfect. But, being that my mind races at 100mph with randomness, I’m always on the verge of insanity.
I can normally drown out any noise that exists outside of my cell, I mean cube, but today, my neighbor across the aisle is DRIVING ME MAD! It’s quite possible she does everything at the highest noise level EVER! About 5 times a day, she pours water from a bottle into a cup, probably at about 10 feet higher than it needs to be. It sounds like someone dumping a bucket of water into a toilet. Then, she proceeds to mix up her water with some powdery substance and stirs it with a spoon that loudly clinks against the glass with every rotation of her wrist. This is an everyday thing, and as I said earlier, I can normally block out her and her clatter, but today she followed it up with a hyper-manic typing fest. She seriously lifts her hands and wrists from the keyboard about three feet every time she goes after another letter. To any innocent bystander hearing this racket, you’d automatically envision someone pounding their face into their keyboard. I looked over at one point and she looked like Beethoven in the midst of some heated sonnet; head thrashing around and her hands and arms flying up like she’s a damn puppet. I can’t stand it.
Unfortunately, I just have to sit here and brew because I am completely incapable of politely suggesting that someone stop an annoying behavior. I seriously can’t speak out of pure rage. I’ll just glare at you like you just shit your pants.
I’m pretty sure I’ll get fired if I throw my umbrella at her.
You can’t get in trouble for barking at someone, can you?
I have to make it clear that I don’t actually hate my husband; I want to, and have valid reasons to support it but, I just can’t quite make it happen yet. So, for now, I’m going to list reasons why I SHOULD.
Reason #1
Ryan has succumbed to Twittering. I know. The gayness that surrounds his actions is too intense to put into words, really. I’ll try though. He’s been known to call participants of Twitter pretentious but apparently he thinks the world would care that he is going to the flea market or getting ready to watch a soccer game. If you subscribe to his nonsense, I guarantee the majority of his posts will be “Taking a Shit”, “Eating”, and “Taking a Shit”.
Reason #2
I’m still not over this one yet. Sigh. I went with him to the Verizon store yesterday and witnessed him buying a phone holster. I’m traumatized by the event and can barely talk about it. I asked him why he doesn’t just buy a fanny pack. It’s equally as homo and you can carry more shit in it. I walked by him at work while he was wearing it and wanted to kick him in the nads.
Reason #3
If we had one of those clickers that people use to count their steps, I could have used it yesterday to count how many times that bastard dropped ass. He had to have farted over 100 times. And these aren’t just “poots”. These are “part your hair” blasts. I honestly do not know how we don’t have holes in our couch. I think we’ve narrowed it down to him eating a ridiculous amount of yogurt though so maybe this can be remedied. The sounds don’t bother me but I think since he turned 30, his insides have been going through some kind of metamorphosis. Personally, I think he’s growing a uterus. Every flatulent fragrance resembled some form of canned dog food. It was un-Godly.
Naturally, with Twittering and using a phone holster, the next logical step is to start liking dudes.
I really only have three reasons right now for why I should hate him. He’d be a hell of a lot easier to dislike if he were ugly. But, he’s kind of ridiculously handsome so, I just have to put up with his stupidity…for now.
I had some extremely sad news delivered to me this morning. One of my good friend’s brother – whom I also consider to be a good friend – has passed away. We’ve all hung out numerous times – all good memories. I am truly sad – just truly devastated. My thoughts and prayers are with his family. We’ll miss you, Josh.
Thank you all for your outpouring of responses to my post about getting a new cell phone (it’s towards the bottom of the link – after all of the bacony goodness). I’ve finally finished scouring through each and every comment. While they all had their good points, I had to go with the LG enV Touch. You see – it’s a touch screen, but it also flips open so I can text like a teenager – truly the best of both worlds. I absolutely love it so far. I would highly recommend this phone to someone who doesn’t quite want a smartphone, but still wants a phone with a lot of features. I was a little weary of the touch screen, but it works great. I’m not sure how long that will last, but for now it’s flawless. As some of you have pointed out, I have slightly larger-than-average fingers – I believe those of you call them “Shrek” fingers. Texting on the touch screen is a somewhat difficult with my finger-girth, but flipping it open reveals a nicely spaced QWERTY keyboard. It has a 3.2 megapixel camera (that even takes panoramic shots) and a video recorder. Overall, it’s a great phone. To be fair, I’ve only had it a few days – so I still may be in the honeymoon phase. But if you’re in the market for a new phone, I suggest taking a serious look at the LG enV Touch.
My beautiful wife and I went to check out No Doubt and Paramore. I personally find the music to be just okay – something to sing along to in the car. The concert was pretty good, though – they are definitely good entertainers. Now don’t get me wrong – this was no Nine Inch Nails concert. If you ever get a chance to catch NIN in person, do it (although they are about to go on an indefinite hiatus). I think I’m spoiled when it comes to concerts now – nobody can match them. It’s like strip clubs – the first one I ever went to was Mons Venus in college. That place was absolutely amazing (the girls, not the actual building) that I can never look at another strip club without comparing the two. Thankfully, those days are behind me as I am happily married – oh and I have a little thing called the internet.
Traffic was a mess, so we unfortunately missed the first opening band, The Sounds. The singers for those three bands make for some very attractive eye candy – I hope the chick from Paramore is old enough where I’m not that creepy guy. When we arrived we decided to splurge for the pit. Jess, being the wimp that she is, was afraid of getting hurt in the pit. I had to remind her that No Doubt’s audience is now in their mid-to-late thirties and I doubt any moshing will occur. The tickets turned out to be well worth the money just for how close we were to the stage – probably no further than 30 feet. They played a lot of their old stuff – I guess it can all be considered old since they haven’t released an album in a while. But it definitely brought back some memories. I think Jess had a better time watching Kingston – Gwen Stefani’s child – dancing on the side of the stage. Gwen was very personable – surprisingly so. She pulled numerous people on stage and took pictures. It was a fun show – good energy, good crowd, good music.
My morning consisted of waking to the sound of a six year old boy screaming the National Anthem, dumping 45,000 pebbles out of 2 pairs of tennis shoes and finding a cat jammed in my son’s underwear drawer. I had an odd craving for a cigarette on my way out the door but I don’t smoke.
I guess most people don’t drink pickle juice. I would highly recommend keeping this a secret if you do it; unless you don’t care about having friends. Apparently, it’s a deal breaker.
My husband doesn’t realize it and will deny it until he’s blue in the face but he has taken to adding “mmkay” after every point he makes whilst verbally disciplining our sons. I let the first one slide but after the 3rd and 4th time, I was struggling to keep from pissing myself.
“I’m tired of your attitude…mmkay. You have got to straighten up at school…mmkay. If you come home with another note, you’ll be grounded…mmkay.”
Keep in mind that my wonderful spouse towers at 6’4 and 200lbs+. His stature, alone, is intimidating. He is never required to raise his voice. All of this is calmly spoken; making it all that much funnier…mmkay.
I’m in this weird state of euphoric bliss because my sons are out on a play date with their Aunt Sarah, my sister, and we predict that they will have swindled hundreds of dollars out of her by this evening. My kids could be lawyers at this age already. They could convince any innocent victim that they absolutely need a particular item in their life and have a solid story laid out before them. They’re amazingly good. When they return home this evening, I suspect they’ll be high on sugar and disgustingly filthy.
On a side note: If I ever had anyone draw a picture of me like this, I’d put it on a bunch of business cards to hand out at job fairs.
Good golly, it’s been a while since I posted to this stupid site. This blog is mainly Jess’s baby, but I thought I’d get on here at least a few times a week to post some things. I guess one of the reasons I don’t post too much is because nobody cares what I’m doing – or nobody should care. This is getting off on a small tangent, but I similarly find Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace somewhat pretentious. The social networking side is fine, but who gives a shit that you’re watching a movie or going shopping or starring in clown porn just to support your ketamine habit? Anyhow, the irony comes full circle now that I’m writing something about myself on this interweb contraption for the world to see – or about 10 people if you are to believe Google Analytics. In my experience, Google is always wrong and I’m always right – so I’m estimating that about 10 Million people view this blog. The ad revenue should be rolling in any time now.
So a couple of weeks ago, we went down to Florida to celebrate my friend’s 30th birthday – and his wife is about to birth a human, so there was some hubub about that as well. In celebration of three decades on this planet – and for the soon-to-be-born creature – the men played some paintball. This was my first time participating in such an event, although I’ve been wanting to shoot people for years. If you’ve never played before – yes, the paintballs sting when they hit you; no, it doesn’t hurt for long; and holy shit, 11-year-old kids with fully automatic paintball guns will absolutely hunt you down and destroy you. Once you’ve been hit, you’re supposed to put your hands up and leave the playing area. These little bastards would shoot you, wait for you to raise your hands, and then pump about 6 more shots into your open chest. And the kid’s mom had the balls to ask us to take it easy on her little snowflake. After about 6 hours of being pelted, the bruises and welts gave us an excuse to go drink some beers.
One more short, somewhat comedic story. I just got back from good ole Goldsboro, NC for work. While eating dinner at the bar portion of a restaurant, I noticed two clearly-intoxicated women sitting to the right of me – I will call them the old one and the fat one. They were watching a program on TV showing people basically eating shit – skiers in avalanches, skydivers having parachute malfunctions – things of that nature. The old one was loudly gasping and screaming when these people would get hurt. During one of her fits of yelling at the TV, she – in one fluid motion without missing a beat – turned to the fat one and said “Did I ever tell you about the guy I took back to my place who demanded that I lick his balls?” They proceeded to remind each other of a few of their escapades and even mentioned that they should publish a book about their mating experiences. I quickly left – it was getting too exciting. Damn Goldsboro – you’re not that bad of a town and you had some good bbq – but two of your finest women had to ruin it for me.
I was informed by a very wise 6 year old that this used to be Woody’s “TV watchin” face back in ’06. Whatever. It’s still hilarious and I can’t wait to embarrass him (a.k.a. Jake) with it when he starts dating. Well…IF he ever does.
I’m gonna try to get them to go as Lloyd Christmas and Harry Dunne for Halloween this year. We’ll see what happens.
