tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317353492024-03-14T03:13:42.184-04:00Barnmouse Blitheringsbarnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-48691299075378912112007-11-14T17:00:00.000-05:002007-11-14T17:01:36.026-05:00Hello!I am <a href="http://barnmouse.wordpress.com">over here</a> now!<br /><br />Hope you stop by! :)barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-52279105153662271402007-06-08T15:16:00.001-04:002007-06-08T15:22:51.756-04:00WELL COLOR ME STUPID.I had no idea that I could move my blog! <a href="http://alwaysthebrunette1980.wordpress.com">Arlene</a>, if you weren't 3000 miles away I'd hug you!<br /><br />So, for any of you who have me bookmarked, I'm movin' on up!<br /><br />I've been thinking about it for awhile now (maybe since like, week 3!) but in my head my only choices were start completely over and loose all my (incredibly hilarious) posts and all of your (even more hilarious) comments, which I could not bare to do or buy a domain and pay monthly dues. I wasn't quite willing to do that yet either, but that's the one I had been considering mostly.<br /><br />But behold! Wordpress! I love you!<br /><br /><a href="http://barnmouse.wordpress.com">Here</a> is my new site. And in case you didn't get that.... <a href="http://barmouse.wordpress.com">HERE</a> it is again! Hee.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-69008195044808603162007-06-07T21:31:00.000-04:002007-06-07T21:46:32.162-04:00I'VE OBVIOUSLY BEEN VERY BUSY.Yesterday, I had to inform my husband, the computer genious, the car fixer-upper, the reader and <span style="font-style: italic;">understander</span> of technical manuals, what the slang phrase "Muffin Top" means. He thought it meant (oh God) a girl with a small rack. Like about the size of actual muffin tops. I am not yet over the shame.<br /><br />Anyway, over the course of me explaining, my brain (which works in mysterious ways) came up with a new slang term. So, you know how when you see a girl with pants on that are 2 sizes too small and a belly shirt, it's called "muffin top"....but what about when you see a guy with that gut hanging over his belt buckle? This is where my new phrase comes into play!<br /><br />Girl with gut = Muffin Top<br /><br />Guy with gut = Cupcake Top<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*pause for inevitable laughter*</span><br /><br />See...and here's how I came up with that...when a girl has a muffin top, it's pretty uniform, right? Like, on both sides and in the front (can I believe I'm talking about this? Um, actually, yeah! I can.), and when I bake muffins, they generally come out pretty uniform too. On the other hand, when I bake cupcakes, they <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> come out lopsided! Like a guy's gut! You know how you see a man from behind and they look totally normal and maybe even a little bit in shape and then they turn around and there it is! Six months pregnant!<br /><br />So who's with me? Let's put "cupcake top" on the map! LOL<br /><br />And also, I feel compelled to inform y'all that earlier, I ate a piece of Quaker granola bar off the floor. To my credit, I had only dropped it about a second earlier and I did blow on it. What? You know germs jump off at the first sign of a breeze. Oh you didn't? It's totally true. Really. It is. Stop looking at me that way.<br /><br />Oh whatever.<br /><br />I'm off to go sit in the freezer. It's damn hot in here.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-73970676659629283112007-06-05T23:00:00.001-04:002007-06-05T23:16:40.306-04:00Mah Kitteh Iz Fay-Mus!<a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/2007/06/05/i-has-a-bag/">http://icanhascheezburger.com/2007/06/05/i-has-a-bag/</a><br /><br />Winston (Cathill...LOL) iz Fay-Mus!<br /><br />(he's the grey one!)<br /><br />Check it out, Dudes!<br /><br />Winston says:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RmYm19zd3KI/AAAAAAAAASA/hbKOJ8ZIsQY/s1600-h/closeup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RmYm19zd3KI/AAAAAAAAASA/hbKOJ8ZIsQY/s320/closeup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072784738844794018" border="0" /></a>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-89633547838397475962007-06-04T12:48:00.000-04:002007-06-04T12:57:26.237-04:00Manic Monday - 6/4Seeing as how I'm trying to get back into the swing of things here, Manic Monday is back! Woo! This week, <a href="http://manicmondaymeme.blogspot.com/">Lisa</a> has choosen these questions:<br /><br />1. How do you learn best? Watch and learn? Participation? Reading directions or technical manuals?<br /><br />2. Is one of your senses more highly developed than another? If so, which one?<br /><br />3. Summer is almost upon us here in the northern hemisphere. What says summer to you?<br /><br />...and these would be my answers!<br /><br />1. How do you learn best? Watch and learn? Participation? Reading directions or technical manuals?<br /><br />I definitely learn better by watching. My husband drives me crazy though, he can read a manual (computer, car, etc) and know exactly what to do, how to do it, and he remembers it all. That drives me nuts.<br /><br />2. Is one of your senses more highly developed than another? If so, which one?<br /><br />My hearing, I think. When I was younger and still taking piano lessons, my mom (who smoked at the time, not anymore! Yippee!) would be in the kitchen and I would be in the living room practicing the piano and I could hear her light a cigarette while I was playing. I think it freaked her out a little! I'd stop playing and yell "Put that out!". LOL<br /><br />3. Summer is almost upon us here in the northern hemisphere. What says summer to you?<br /><br />Hmm. Summer says flip flops, beach towels, the smell of sunscreen and chlorine, and driving around with the windows down. These are just the random things that pop into my head when I think "Summer".<br /><br />There you have it!<br /><br />Did you play? :)barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-64510640015301801702007-05-30T21:31:00.000-04:002007-05-30T21:36:49.697-04:00Three Word WednesdayI almost forgot! I've been completely forgetting all the little weekly things I started doing these past few months with all that's been going on. So here it is 9:32 pm on Wednesday! I barely made it! But I still made it. Woo!<br /><br />So here are the words brought to us by <a href="http://littlenibbler.blogspot.com/">Bone over at the 3 Word Wednesday Headquarters</a>:<br /><br />stroke<br />summer<br />leave<br /><br />Easy Peasy (is that how you spell that? I have no idea...I'm from NC!)<br /><br />Here's what I came up with:<br /><br />If this <span style="font-style: italic;">summer</span> is any hotter than the last one, I'm going to have heat <span style="font-style: italic;">stroke</span> and then not <span style="font-style: italic;">leave</span> the house again until Fall (which will probably be around December).<br /><br />So! Did you play?barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-6228595820200135112007-05-28T23:43:00.000-04:002007-05-29T00:06:33.979-04:00Is GI Jane Making A Comeback?Y'all would not believe how many people find my site by Googling "women buzz cuts" or some variation there of. And all from <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2006/10/buzz-cut-anyone.html">this post</a>. And seriosly. I did not shave all my hair off. To those of you thinking of doing that? <br /><br />No.<br /><br />Just no.<br /><br />I know the thought of not having to brush your hair or worry about the cowlicks, curling/flat irons, etc, but think about it. Do you really want to walk around looking like <a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,252563,00.html">Britney Spears</a>? Desperate with a dash of crazy? No. You don't.<br /><br />And while we're on the subject, more than a few people have stumbled over here Googling thing such as "my dog ate my diet pills" and "my dog at vitamins". But my personal favorite has to be "my dog's leg is turning purple".<br /><br />OH MY GOD, DUDE TAKE YOUR DOG TO THE VET!!!<br /><br />What the hell?!<br /><br />I know when my dog has big gashes or has swallowed some drugs, the first thing I do is pop open the laptop and hop on over to Google. Maybe have a glass of wine. Chat on the phone. Catch up on my letter writing.<br /><br />Shwaa?<br /><br />So this one of for all of you who come here under the pretense of getting some answers about something your dog ate or did. Or if they're swelling, bleeding, limping, loosing their hair, looking at you funny, or farting. CALL YOUR VET. OR BETTER YET, TAKE YOUR DOG TO THE VET. NOW!<br /><br />Jeezy Creezy!<br /><br />Next time, we'll cover "can I give my dog fridge and pantry foods"...<span style="font-style: italic;">is that where you keep the DOG FOOD? In that case, yes.</span>, "What if my dog ate a squirrel?"...<span style="font-style: italic;">oh do not even get me started on that one. my hand still cramps up when it's cold. Just let him eat the damn squirrel.</span> and "hamster, fuzzy toes". <span style="font-style: italic;">Say what now?</span><br /><br />Y'all keep 'em straight up thar! (and yes, long live <a href="http://www.thebigshow.com/">Johnboy & Billy</a>!!! Woo!)barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-87827127926792361892007-05-24T17:48:00.000-04:002007-05-24T18:20:52.652-04:00I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...*sigh*<br /><br />I sold my Mitsubishi 3000gt. (vr-4...just to brag a little)<br /><br />I am sad.<br /><br />I miss it already.<br /><br />It was such a thrill to drive. When I sold my horse, I bought that car. So I always thought of it as my "horse replacement". I traded horse power for horse power. I mean, it wasn't a "daily driver/grocery getter" type car, that's what I have the Jeep for, but I'll still miss the special outings every-so-often.<br /><br />I'm trying to figure out what my next "thrill" thing will be. (did that sound as bad as I think it did? thrill thing! Woo!)<br /><br />Something tells me Rat's not going to let me buy a motorcycle. Hee!<br /><br />Hmm. Something odd just crossed my mind (like what else is new, right?). I think I sold my car on the same day I bought the Jeep. How weird is that?<br /><br />Anyway, I sold it to a guy who just got back from Iraq, so I feel pretty good about that. I'm glad he got the car he wanted so badly (and drove like 5 hours to get to). I makes me feel a little bit better. And I'm pretty sure he (and his brother) are going to take pretty good care of it. I doubt they'll take as good of care of it as Rat and I have, but then again we're a bit strange when it comes to our cars and stuff like that.<br /><br />I also got more for it than I paid for it originally (but that didn't cover what we put into it), but still, I guess that's okay. We needed a new roof. Stupid wind storm. Stupid shingles. Stupid...um...like....air...and stuff. The horrible thing is, is that had we not had to pay for Rat's mom's funeral, we could have paid for the roof with no problem. And this just gets me pissed off more and more with her husband-of-2-years, or as he shall now be refered to on here, "Shithead". (and yes, that capitalized...for good reason!) Why did her children have to pay for her funeral? Why didn't Shithead pay for it? He's claiming that he's entitled to her entire estate! Yet he couldn't lift a finger to help her children plan her very unexpected funeral. Bastard! And on top of that, during their TWO YEAR MARRIAGE he left her TWICE! Then had a major stroke and realized that he had no one to take care of him and drive him around, so back he came!<br /><br />I should really shut up. I'm just getting myself worked up again.<br /><br />Anyway, so. My car. My beautiful, beautiful car. My baby. The <span style="font-style: italic;">Preciousssss</span>. I will miss you. You will always be MY car.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlYO1EVAleI/AAAAAAAAAR4/sWOI6bI_CkE/s1600-h/100_1682.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlYO1EVAleI/AAAAAAAAAR4/sWOI6bI_CkE/s320/100_1682.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068254735509788130" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Such an awesome car.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>My brother once said <span style="font-style: italic;">"That car looks mean!"</span> , which...yeah! It does!<br /><br />I hope the guy who bought it will keep in touch. And if he wrecks it, I hope he knows I'm coming after him...and I'm bringing the <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2007/05/leftover-easter-candy-wellkind-of.html">creepy bunny cupcakes</a> with me!<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></div>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-37453946696952498232007-05-23T14:53:00.000-04:002007-05-23T14:56:02.714-04:00New Exercise Program! Tighten Your Abs With Laughter!I found this a little earlier on today and have watched it several times and I laugh Every. Single. Time. I just had to share...<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y7O9DEj48dI"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y7O9DEj48dI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"></embed></object>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-79479404630072049872007-05-22T11:28:00.000-04:002007-05-22T12:18:39.354-04:00I have an Excedrin headache...and it's THIS BIGWe're getting a new roof put on as I ...uh...type. It sounds like they're playing hopscotch up there. I tried working in my office, but it's on the second floor and I couldn't stand it for more than 5 minutes. I kept having this thought that the roofers were about to come crashing through the ceiling and land on me (cartoon bug eyes and all) and squash me on the floor.<br /><br />The cats are freaking out. Not quite as bad as when we got the chimney straightened (hee hee....chimbley...HI DAD!), but they won't go more than a few feet away from me and their eyes are about the size of saucers. Surprisingly, Shadow is fine with all that's going on. Normally he barks and runs around and has a fit, but he was just kind of...I don't know....<span style="font-style: italic;">interested</span>...this time. At the moment he's gnawing on his Ultimate Chew (the only kind of treat that lasts more than a nanosecond with him). On the other hand, the neighbor's dog is going bananas. But I think he's a little nuts anyway.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...suspicious quiet....<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span><br /><br />Breaking for lunch, maybe? After 4 hours of constant banging and stomping overhead, the silence has a strange feeling to it.<br /><br />I wish I could just get out of here and go to the gym, but the dude (yes, I just said "dude") who delivered the palets of shingles and other assorted roofy-type things decided that the best place to park them was behind <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> garage door. So now I can't get out. And the palets cannot be moved by meer barnmouse force. That option has been exhausted (as well as my arms).<br /><br />Oh goody. More banging. *sigh*<br /><br />And also, while I am whining...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMWeUVAlbI/AAAAAAAAARg/3PuisZx8Urc/s1600-h/flowers1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMWeUVAlbI/AAAAAAAAARg/3PuisZx8Urc/s320/flowers1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067418715830654386" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And not only that, but <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> as well...<br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMXA0VAlcI/AAAAAAAAARo/tmBKMYDQEro/s1600-h/flower2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMXA0VAlcI/AAAAAAAAARo/tmBKMYDQEro/s320/flower2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067419308536141250" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">To say that I'm a bit peeved is an understatement.<br /><br />I hope y'all's day is going better than mine so far! Happy Tuesday.<br /><br />And just to make myself feel a little bit better....<br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMXfkVAldI/AAAAAAAAARw/yfsg0QI0LLQ/s1600-h/stories.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RlMXfkVAldI/AAAAAAAAARw/yfsg0QI0LLQ/s320/stories.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067419836817118674" border="0" /></a>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-43199935776857867542007-05-17T22:42:00.000-04:002007-05-17T22:43:07.768-04:00Leftover Easter Candy? Well...Kind Of.I know several weeks ago (yikes!) I mentioned <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2007/04/letters-to-people-at-gym-probably.html">creepy bunny cupcakes</a>. (oh dear, when looking that up, I noticed that I wrote "I'll tell you about the creepy bunny cupcakes tomorrow". whoops! What I really <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span> was "a month from now".) So while I'm feeling guilty about posting so rarely lately, I will go ahead and tell y'all about the creepy bunny cupcakes. (I giggle every time I write that)<br /><br />Around Easter this year, I was walking around our local <a href="http://www.kroger.com/homepage/index.htm">Kroger</a> sniffing the yummy looking (and smelling) fresh made cinnamon buns, when I spied something with my little eyes that began with the letter "C" (and also "B"...and then another "C").<br /><br />What was that? Yes! You're right! Creepy Bunny Cupcakes!<br /><br />These things made me stop in the middle of the store and just really laugh my ass off. I cannot imagine anyone thinking these things up and saying to themselves <span style="font-style: italic;">"These will be a huge hit this Easter! We must make THOUSANDS!!! They will sell out in 2 days!"</span>. Of course, when I found them, they were on clearance. So apparently they didn't go over as well as planned.<br /><br />That did not deture me! Hey! 12 cupcakes for 2 bucks? Hell yeah we have a deal! LOL!<br /><br />Rat and I ended up only eating 3 of them (total, not "a piece").<br /><br />Now comes the time where I show you why.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkvBBUVAlZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/iqak2ltH7mU/s1600-h/100_1658.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkvBBUVAlZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/iqak2ltH7mU/s320/100_1658.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065354434289112466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">"Hi! I love you! Can I drink your blood? Satan is my friend!"<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>Hee hee. Sorry. That's what runs through my head when I see this picture. Oh...you're still laughing? Okay. I'll wait.<br /><br />*twiddling thumbs*<br /><br />You okay? Alright. Now that you've cleaned whatever drink you were drinking off of whatever you just spit it on, let me ask you this: What could be creepier than that bunny cupcake?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkvCBUVAlaI/AAAAAAAAARY/S_J2b9LY_5Y/s1600-h/100_1659.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkvCBUVAlaI/AAAAAAAAARY/S_J2b9LY_5Y/s320/100_1659.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065355533800740258" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">NINE OF THEM!!!!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">It's a little army! A little creepy bunny cupcake army! All dressed up and ready to kill you in your sleep.<br /><br />And can it possibly get any worse? Why yes! It can! Guess what kind of cake they're made of. Red velvet cake.<br /><br />Is it any wonder now how 9 cupcakes survived in our house for about 2 weeks before I finally threw them away because I just couldn't look at their creepy little faces anymore? Actually...I didn't throw away the creepy little faces....I took them off and washed them out and I've been delighting myself in putting them on different things (like the cats, although I can't get them to sit still long enough for me to snap a few pictures).<br /><br />So now you know my dirty little (creepy) secret. And I hope you thought it (at least parts of it) was funny. I know I did!<br /></div></div></div>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-30535647470997249012007-05-16T21:50:00.000-04:002007-05-16T22:25:11.100-04:00More Letters To Gym People! Finally!Yeah. I know. I've been horrible about posting lately. What can I say other than <span style="font-style: italic;">oops...sorry...my bad</span>? So I'll try to make it up to y'all with some <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2007/04/letters-to-people-at-gym-probably.html">more letters</a> <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2007/04/letters-to-gym-people-possibly-with.html">to gym people</a>. Yay! Aren't you excited?! I know I am! I mean really, me criticing people at the gym? Who wouldn't wanna read <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>?!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">To Weird-Guy-In-Workshirt:</span><br /><br />Umm. A workshirt? Really? How comfortable can that be? (Seriously y'all...a button-down workshirt with a name patch) I guess there's nothing really wrong with it, but dang if it didn't look weird. And please do something about the obviously itchy underwear you were wearing. I know that there are other possibilities for why you couldn't leave yourself alone, but I don't want to think about them. <br /><br />So. In the future. Try a t-shirt at the gym. You'll find that you're much more comfortable and get lots less strange looks from other people. And speaking of strange looks, the itchy undies situation. Please remedy that. Or at least pick an elliptical more than one away from me when the entire line of them are empty. I was on the one at the end for a reason.<br /><br />Thank you for your time,<br />The-girl-who-is-going-to-start-putting-"This Machine Is Broken"-signs-on-the-machines-around-her<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">To the Very Affectionate Couple:</span><br /><br />Omigod y'all....get a room. No one wants to see that. I seriously thought I was gonna barf. That's the sucky thing about being on a workout machine and seeing something that makes you wanna hurl. You can run faster and faster, but you don't actually get away from anything. Like the guy in the bright red sweatpants and the bright yellow sweatshirt (yes, I'm talking to you...You looked like a hotdog) walking over to his girlfriend/wife/hooker/whatever (yes, now I'm talking to you, a bra is not a shirt) every 5 damn minutes to suck face and pat her on the butt while the girl on the elliptical (hey, now we're talking about me! in a respectable amount of clothes that don't remind me of any kind of food) is trying not to be sick.<br /><br />See what you made me do? I've never seen so many parenthases in my life! <br /><br />To recap: don't make out at the gym, especially when dressed as a hotdog and a stripper.<br /><br />Barfing-ly yours,<br />the-girl-who-will-now-never-be-comfortable-wearing-anything-less-than-baggy-shirts-<br />to-the-gym-thanks-to-you<br /><br /><br />....and finally....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">To The Hot Guy Who Doesn't Go To The Gym Enough:<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span></span>Dear Hot Guy,<br /><br />Please come back. I'm sorry about the drool. I promise to bring a towel next time. And maybe I'll even try not to stare as much (who am I kidding, I'll just wear my sunglasses). And even though you walk like you're pretty full of yourself, I won't judge. I mean, hell, if I looked like that I'd probably be pretty full of myself too. And hey, I could be wrong! You've just got a little bit of that <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0144084/">Christian Bale in American Psycho</a> thing going on. All that aside...you're pretty... ~drool~<br /><br />Oops...there I go again.<br /><br />School-girl-crushingly Yours,<br />barnmouse<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">**barnmouse disclaimer**<br /><br />"NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT"<br /><br />thankyouveddymuch</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /></span></span></span>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-36184810263568711182007-05-13T13:34:00.000-04:002007-05-13T13:37:52.642-04:00To All You Mother's Out There.....<a href="http://www.glittermaker.com/"><img style="width: 427px; height: 95px;" src="http://10.uploadmirror.com/uploaded/4/634/glitter_maker_05_13_2007_12_33_19_46012.gif" alt="http://www.GlitterMaker.com/ - Glitter Graphics" title="http://www.GlitterMaker.com/ - Glitter Graphics" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.pimp-text.com/" title="Pimp Text"></a><br /><br />I hope you all have a great one!<br /><br />-barnmousebarnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-75925041118851926692007-05-11T00:16:00.000-04:002007-05-11T00:36:18.706-04:00Okay....so I'm 17 minutes late......but to be fair, I started this <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> 12.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkPuUy-Pm0I/AAAAAAAAARI/A9H8NTG9DFU/s1600-h/granny.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RkPuUy-Pm0I/AAAAAAAAARI/A9H8NTG9DFU/s320/granny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063152447142206274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And also...photoshop is hard, dude. And maybe I might have been watching Family Guy. Just a little.<br /><br />So! Today (well...yesterday...the 10th! Of May!) is my Granny's birthday! Her 84th birthday to be exact! Yay Granny!<br /><br />Granny is the best granny ever! When I was little, we used to spend hours (and all of her quarters) at Roses riding the little plastic horsies. Okay...so it was just me who rode the horsies, but she was standing there watching the whole time. And we all know how important it is for grown-ups to "watch ME!" when we're little. Looking back on it now, I'm convinced that she enjoyed that just as much, if not more, as me! We also used to build "super card houses" on her rug in the living room. They had the best carpet for card houses. You could stand up one card! These things had 4 and 5 stories sometimes. And the best part was always knocking them over at the end of the day (although, sometimes my granddad got that honor...hee hee...I think knocking stuff over is a guy thing).<br /><br />Since she's gotten older and isn't able to cook all the things that had become traditions, like her sour cream cinnamon coffee cake (a Christmas breakfast staple) I've been trying to figure out some of her cooking secrets. So since I was meeting up with my parents on Tuesday, I thought I'd try to bake the coffee cake and send some home with them so Granny could have some of the cake that she lovingly prepared all those years for her birthday. I spoke with her today and she said that she <span style="font-style: italic;">loved</span> it! Which makes me pretty darn happy. Also, my mom said it was fantastic, which means SO much. It took me awhile, (and many "eh" kind of coffee cakes) to figure out that she used the recipe as a "guide", but once I got over my fear of screwing it up forever (can't quite figure out how I got that in my crazy head) I tweaked some of the ingredients and lo and behold! Granny's coffee cake! Yay!<br /><br />So Happy Birthday Granny! You're the best! I love you!<br /><br />-your favorite grandchild<br />(heh)barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-89771193067781310362007-05-04T18:45:00.000-04:002007-05-04T18:46:35.183-04:00Note To Self:Do not let hair dry while wrapped up in towel and then try to brush.<br /><br />And also, ouch.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-45601980692391788022007-04-29T23:05:00.000-04:002007-04-29T23:11:43.347-04:00WARNING: DO NOT EAT MCDONALD'S CHEESEBURGERS FOR BREAKFAST<span style="font-style: italic;">The Scene: Barnmouse and Rat's upstairs hallway by the linen closet.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rat: </span>*looking at the floor in the linen closet* We really need to pull up the carpet in here and put down the hardwood floor like the rest of the upstairs.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mouse: </span>Uh huh...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rat: </span>*looking up that the attic door thingy* And we need to look in the attic.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mouse: </span>Uh...why? To check for bodies?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rat: </span>*cocking his head like a dog who's heard something weird* shh shh shh...listen......<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mouse: </span>*getting really creeped out* <span style="font-style: italic;">what???</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rat: </span><span style="font-style: italic;">pfffffffftttttttt</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rat: </span>*grin*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mouse: </span>nice. thank you.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">End Scene.</span><br /><br />And that, ladies and gentlemen, was pretty much the extent of my weekend. Yes, I know. You're welcome.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /></span>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-9074445701220427372007-04-26T17:07:00.000-04:002007-04-26T17:28:48.506-04:00Canine Confections' Pet ProjectHi y'all. I thought I'd tell you a little bit about <a href="http://canineconfections.blogspot.com">Canine Confections' "Pet Project".<br /></a><br />For the next month, all proceeds from my treats will go to help adopt a kitty. (hee hee. get it? 'pet project'??) Anyway, the kitty's name is Skeeter and he's a 2 1/2 year old gray and white cat. (but I'm sure you got that from "kitty") Unfortunately, Skeeter weighs about twice what he should and has to be on a special diet, so no one really gives him a second look when they're looking to adopt a cute little kitten.<br /><br />Skeeter's story is a sad one. He was found locked in a cat carrier abandoned next to a dumpster. I can not imagine doing that to an animal! I guess there are just some horrible people out there. Such a sad start for such a sweet kitty.<br /><br />Okey Dokey. That's pretty much the jist of the "Pet Project". I went by the adoption place today and was going to take a picture of his sweet little smooshy face, but instead I decided to forget my camera phone in my car. Oops.<br /><br />If this "Pet Project" goes well, I'm thinking of possibly making it an annual thing. (raising money to help get abandoned cats and dogs adopted) <br /><br />So what do y'all think? I'm definitely open to suggestions.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-35883378263242037082007-04-24T19:31:00.000-04:002007-04-24T19:45:14.563-04:00Letters to the Gym People (possibly with actual letters this time!)<span style="font-weight: bold;">To the guy walking on the treadmill beside me in socks,</span><br /><br /> *chanelling Bill Lumburgh* Yeeeaaaaahhh...kaaaayyy....I'm gonna have to go ahead and...yeeeaaahhh....ask you to just...just put your shoes back on. Kaaay? Yeeeaaaah. *takes sip from mug of coffee* Alrighty then.<br /><br /> *chanelling barnmouse* Seriously! Dude! Gross! Put your damn shoes back on. WTF?! You're not in your house. Sure, there are membership dues, but that doesn't mean you don't have to follow a couple of rules. They won't even let you in the mini-mart without shoes on and you think it's alright to kick off your shoes on the treadmill to let your feet air out? Umm. No?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nose-scrunchingly Yours,<br />barnmouse<br /></span><br /> And that's not even the weirdest thing about this guy. When I got there, he had both shoes on and was walking like there was no tomorrow. Then, after I had been there about 10 minutes or so, he stops the treadmill, steps off and turns around and sits on it, breathing like he's about to have a heart attack or something. At this point, I'm starting to worry. Am I going to have to call an ambulance? Then, to my surprise, he gets back up on the treadmill and starts up that same crazy pace again. Only this time....he's only got one shoe on. <br /><br /> Huh? I have to tell myself not to stare.<br /><br /> About 3 minutes into his second workout, he slows the pace down a bit and then kicks off his other shoe. Right about now, I'm seriously considering just leaving. I don't think I can NOT laugh anymore. Luckily, he leaves after about 10 more minutes, but not after using the "floor" of the treadmill as a seat again, breathing like he's got a 3 pack a day habit.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-70048700306727448492007-04-23T16:29:00.000-04:002007-04-23T16:58:07.005-04:00Letters to People at the Gym (probably a series)As I might have mentioned before (or I might not have...it's been forEVER since I last posted) Rat and I have joined a gym. And with joining a gym, along with fitness and the hope of less ass, comes interaction with "gym people". Gym People are the type of people who, if you meet them anywhere <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> than the gym, they seem to be completely normal people. However. If you meet them in the gym, you will memorize the days and times that they are there and will avoid the gym at all costs at these times.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong. Gym People are not all bad. Sometimes they are good. Very Gooooood. But if you happen to be married, as I am, this can be very baaaaaad. Now I'm thinking that the very gooood gym people are mostly men. And I'm thinking this for a reason other than I'm a girl and I like men. The women who are at the gym all the time (i.e. personal trainers, workout-aholics, etc) think they look like supermodels and are super sexy. They could not be more wrong. They are so wrong that when you say "wrong" you have to say it like they do in the Sonic commercials. "W-Rong" Stringy and orange is not sexy. It's scary. And it's even scarier than I'm not talking about hair. I'm talking about when you can see all the muscle fibers and tendons and such because the women is...well...what's the word? Buff? Pumped? Ripped? Stringy is the first thing that pops into my mind. It just looks wrong. They look like men from the chin down. And don't get me started on the BLEACHED blonde hair (all caps means so bleached that it's just fried) and the fact that their skin is the color of a carrot. You're not fooling us! We know that's a fake tan. And fake hair color. And no one's teeth are that white. They just set off the orange color. Please. Take a day or two off from the "sun in a bottle".<br /><br />And these people. They are extreme. The kind of extreme where they would want you to spell it "X-Treme"!!! (with that many exclamation points)<br /><br />I realize I'm ranting here, but it's not like I can say anything to these people's faces. They'd crack me in half! Rat signed up for 12 personal trainer sessions (because they were super cheap when we signed up) and he's had 6 and then had to tell the personal trainer <span style="font-style: italic;">lady</span> that because we were going to have to get our chimney straightened and get a new roof put on the house (thank you wind storm) that he wasn't going to be able to sign up for more sessions. And according to him she said "no, you can't do that".<br /><br />Umm...what?<br /><br />Come to find out that she used to work at another gym in town where one of my friends is a member and my friend says that no one there liked her and we're thinking she was fired.<br /><br />Really.<br /><br />Wonder why?<br /><br />I can't imagine.<br /><br />So. On to the letters. I've written several, but seeing as how this post has gotten a bit off topic already, I'll save those for later. Hopefully tomorrow. I'm trying to do better at posting (or at least I'm going to try).<br /><br />So...here's a picture of some ducks that were randomly in our front yard, even though we don't live on or really near water.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0cVmOODRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/C-nqmFMUmuM/s1600-h/100_1650.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0cVmOODRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/C-nqmFMUmuM/s320/100_1650.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056729113969954066" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here's a picture of Ebenezer staring at the ducks imagining them in the oven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0c42OODSI/AAAAAAAAAQw/rwAaU-iXKek/s1600-h/100_1653.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0c42OODSI/AAAAAAAAAQw/rwAaU-iXKek/s320/100_1653.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056729719560342818" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here's a picture of Winston not caring.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0dQWOODTI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/8rVd715B8T4/s1600-h/100_1654.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/Ri0dQWOODTI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/8rVd715B8T4/s320/100_1654.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056730123287268658" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Pleez yallz....sumbodee jus rubs mah belly!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>And if y'all are good, tomorrow I'll tell ya' about creepy bunny cupcakes! I know, you can't wait!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-71849965223144754512007-04-16T19:59:00.000-04:002007-04-16T20:02:09.147-04:00Canine ConfectionsI'm currently in the process of making a page for my dog treats here. You can find the link to the right. It says "Canine Confections Treats".<br /><br />I'll be writting a (hopefully) interesting post soon, so stay tuned, unless you don't want to hear about the hot dude from the gym or the tanerexic. LOL!barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-25301758567001499762007-04-12T23:08:00.000-04:002007-04-12T23:26:06.812-04:00One Question And One Comment About the Duke Thing and Then I'll Shut Up...First, the question. As soon as the "accuser" yelled that she was raped by three white Duke students, their names, pictures, life histories, etc were splashed all over television, newspapers, radio, blah blah blah. What happened to "innocent until proven guilty"? Out the window? Now that it's come to light that yes, acctually, they're innocent "Oops, we're sorry" and all that, what happens to the girl who put them through hell for over a year? No one even knows her name! The pictures they put on the news of her in court have her face blurred out. I think we should get a little glimpse into her life for awhile. Let her see what she put three innocent people through. I guess my question would be "Where the hell does she get off?" She's done actual rape victims a real disservice. I'm a bit too lazy to look up the actual stats at the moment, but a huge percentage of rapes go unreported every year because the victims are afraid of not being believed. There should be consiquences for the "accusor's" actions. If they're thinking of bringing Nifong up on charges, then I think she should face them too.<br /><br />Hmm....I think I'm ranting. Anyway. You get my point. I'm all "eye for an eye" on this one.<br /><br />Now...the comment. I knew they were innocent. I could feel it in my bones. I was right! Suckahs!<br /><br />And also? People in NC? Try to get on the national news for something good next time. I'm tired of seeing my beloved state on the world news for all the wrong reasons. Let people know how great it is here! :)<br /><br />P.S. Don Imus? Who the hell? I gotta say, I had never heard of him until his unfortunate comment. And Don? The Marlboro Man called...he wants his outfit back. Ass.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-2420706580935237512007-04-10T21:47:00.000-04:002007-04-10T22:02:12.814-04:00Is It Wrong If.........I wouldn't mind if my late mother in law's husband of 2 years just kind of....disappeared?<br /><br />...I want him to try to take everything (like he's doing) and we totally screw him and he ends up with nothing?<br /><br />...I want to hurt that sneaky, coniving, bastard little creep?!<br /><br />Seriously. I do. I want to hurt him. Badly.<br /><br />I had a dream about him (when he left my MiL the second of the 2 times he left her!) where I saw him in Petsmart and I ended up beating him silly with a dog bowl. I loved that dream. I miss that dream. I think maybe I'll try and have it again tonight. How do you make yourself have a specific dream?<br /><br />Rat's sister (trying to think up a name for her on here) just called tonight and said that the SOB is trying to claim that since he was going to leave everything to my MiL that she was going to do the same, so he should get everything. OH MY GOD PEOPLE!!! They were married for TWO FREAKIN' YEARS!!! During which time he left her TWICE!!! Then had a stroke!!! They thought he wasn't going to make it, so my MiL drove to the hospital at midnight to sign over power of attorney to his ex wife and daughter! Then, he miraculously makes it (yay) and is all "the near death experience changed me" blah blah blah....and she takes him back. <br /><br />great<br /><br />Then, when she's about to move to another state where her daughter lives and start a new job (which the new jerk husband doesn't want to do) and she says "fine, you don't have to go anywhere. I'm movin' and I'm sellin' my house." she suddenly dies at 62. The first day of her retirement.<br /><br />This just all doesn't add up to me. <br /><br />Now he's claiming that she <span style="font-style: italic;">was going</span> to leave everything to him so he should get everything anyway. Even though she has three children. He's saying that they should get nothing of their mother's to remember her by. He won't even let them have old family pictures. He got an injunction barring all 3 children from THEIR MOTHER'S HOUSE claiming that they were taking things out (which they weren't).<br /><br />He's a jackass! A SON OF A BITCH!<br /><br />I swear!!!! GRRRR!!!!! I just want to slap the shit out of him!<br /><br />Okay, I'm going to go try and have a *good* dream.<br /><br />Later<br /><br />**ya know? maybe I should just find a way to lock him up with my dog for a minute of two. now that would be some good tv!barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-68821891345526689802007-04-09T15:14:00.000-04:002007-04-09T15:22:41.525-04:00Manic MondayI've never done this before, but thought I'd give it a try. Monday's are not exactly my most competent days. Hee.<br /><br />"What flavor of ice cream best describes your personality?"<br /><br />I'd have to go with Peppermint. It's mild, but with a minty kick. hee hee<br /><br />"If your life was a weather vane, which direction would it be pointing right now?"<br /><br />I'd say South/South East because that's where I live and I love it! :)<br /><br />"What is one field or profession that you have never pursued, but that you think you would most likely have been quite good at?"<br /><br />I wanted to be a lawyer for the longest time. I'm an excellent arguer, but I could never decide on defense or prosecuter. I mean, on one hand, defending an innocent person accused of something is great, but prosecuting the guilty, also good. Oh well. I guess that's why I bake dog treats!<br /><br />did you play?barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-86757483489843730422007-04-07T17:57:00.000-04:002007-04-07T17:58:15.991-04:00Ladies...Please. Listen Up.So. There I am. Walking around the mall looking for a present for my mom. When I look around and notice all the women around me are not so much walking, as they are teetering around on super high heeled shoes. Of course, that's everyone, but me. Gaze upon my beautiful new shoes...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhgRSamet5I/AAAAAAAAAOE/pUTeMz4gJyw/s1600-h/100_1641.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhgRSamet5I/AAAAAAAAAOE/pUTeMz4gJyw/s320/100_1641.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050805990172047250" border="0" /></a><br />Yes I love them <span style="font-style: italic;">soooooo</span> much. They are super comfy and also very stylish, no matter what anyone says. Pink spikes are IN this season!<br /><br />Anyway, so these women that I'm seeing having to take 8-inch steps, looked very uncomfy and I am definitely Pro-Comfy. Now don't get me wrong. I love the pretty sandals and the heels and what not, but if I can't walk in 4-inch heels, I DO NOT BUY 4 INCH HEELS! Because if you can't walk in your shoes, you do not look super sexy! You look like an idiot. And also like you're going to fall over should a slight breeze be stirred up.<br /><br />To the girl in the 4-inch chunky platforms: No one thought you were just meandering around the mall. We could all see that with the 'power combo' of shoes too tall for you and the jeans that you needed Crisco, Saran wrap and two good friends to get on, that you could not bend your knees and had to shuffle along like you were practicing skiing. Not cool. Not sexy. Just funny.<br /><br />I should really start taking my camera more places with me. Although I doubt skank girl would have been too pleased with me taking her picture and snickering. But hey, it's not like she could catch me or anything! I could have gotten away from her at "window shopping" speed. Hee!<br /><br />So, girls, and you know who you are, please wear shoes you can somewhat walk in. I'm not saying you've got to be able to run a marathon in them, but if you're going to stroll around the mall, then wear the appropriate shoes.<br /><br />*stepping down off soapbox*<br /><br />/rantbarnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31735349.post-47252119749176069372007-04-02T22:51:00.000-04:002007-04-02T23:26:11.158-04:00MehOkay. So far, not really impressed with MySpace, but really...did I think I was going to be? Umm...no. I guess I just don't get it. What does it do? What's it for? Other than to promote the new Transformers movie, which I hear enough about at home because Rat is a huge dork. Hee.<br /><br />I get that it can be used as a dating service of sorts (not that I'd ever date anyone that found me on freakin' MySpace, but hey, that's just me).<br /><br />And you can like, leave messages for people? Am I correct about that?<br /><br />Please, someone! Help! What's the point of MySpace?! I'm starting to get why people call it "WhySpace"...cause just really...<span style="font-style: italic;">whyyyyyy</span>???<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>Anyway.<br /><br />Enough of that.<br /><br />I feel like I've been kind of a sucky bloggy person as of late, skipping my Things on the Road Thursdays, and I can't remember the last time I did SPF, not to mention the sporatic posting.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*whispers* my cat is staring at me....for like 5 minutes now...wtf...*/whispers*<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>So. My point? Umm...Oh yeah! I'll try to do better! :) Like now! See? Doing better! Writing stuff.<br /><br />I totally dropped a carton of eggs not 20 feet out of the grocery store today. Yeah, that was fun. Surprisingly, only 4 of them were broken though. Oh damn! I was going to make a cake for Rat! I completely forgot until now! Stupid brain. Always on break. I made a doggy cake today (apple cinnamon just in case you were wondering, and don't kid yourself, you totally were) and when Rat got home he looked at it and you could see his brain working things out. First it was "Yay! A cake! And it's just for me!". Then it was "Wait, what are those things in it?". Then "Oh, they're apples." And finally "Dammit, this is for the dog, isn't it?".<br /><br />I'm looking for a name for that one now too. So...still looking for a name for <a href="http://barnmouse.blogspot.com/2007/02/name-that-dog-treat-prize-included.html">this cake (and remember, winner gets doggy treats!!!)</a> and now looking for a name for this one too. Didn't take a picture of it though. But again, apple and cinnamon. And it's made in a "bundt" pan (is that right?....I think it's right) so it's round with a hole in the middle and then cut into wedges. Same as the other one.<br /><br />In other news....This is back.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhHGVmDw8FI/AAAAAAAAAN0/mcW6Nhi5h8U/s1600-h/100_1617.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhHGVmDw8FI/AAAAAAAAAN0/mcW6Nhi5h8U/s320/100_1617.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049034731554926674" border="0" /></a><br />Yeah. I know.<br /><br />At least, I thought I knew. Until I got to play my new Spyro. Now...I am in love.<br /><br />Yes. Yes, you are right. Rat <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">IS</span></span> the luckiest man alive! How sweet of you to notice.<br /><br />And now, in closing, just because I love y'all, here is a picture of the shirt I wore today.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhHHe2Dw8GI/AAAAAAAAAN8/PPr5y-U97Nc/s1600-h/100_1634.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TSOZ9FQ3O6Y/RhHHe2Dw8GI/AAAAAAAAAN8/PPr5y-U97Nc/s320/100_1634.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049035989980344418" border="0" /></a><br />And let me go ahead and tell all you postal workers, cashiers, waiters and waitresses, stock boys, and nosey old ladies out there that no, I do not in fact, eat glue. If I did, do you really think I would wear a shirt saying so? NO! No I would not.<br /><br />Also, do you have any idea how many pictures I had to take to get one that focused on the <span style="font-style: italic;">shirt</span> and not my boobs? <br /><br />If y'all are lucky, I post one of the shirt I'm thinking of wearing tomorrow. I get a little nervous about wearing that one in public, lest I offend someone. hee.<br /><br />And Johnboy, y'all have a nice day.barnmousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13791773793650082867noreply@blogger.com6