I'VE OBVIOUSLY BEEN VERY BUSY.

Yesterday, I had to inform my husband, the computer genious, the car fixer-upper, the reader and understander 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.

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!

Girl with gut = Muffin Top

Guy with gut = Cupcake Top

*pause for inevitable laughter*

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 always 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!

So who's with me? Let's put "cupcake top" on the map! LOL

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.

Oh whatever.

I'm off to go sit in the freezer. It's damn hot in here.

Is 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 this post. And seriosly. I did not shave all my hair off. To those of you thinking of doing that?

No.

Just no.

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 Britney Spears? Desperate with a dash of crazy? No. You don't.

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".

OH MY GOD, DUDE TAKE YOUR DOG TO THE VET!!!

What the hell?!

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.

Shwaa?

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!

Jeezy Creezy!

Next time, we'll cover "can I give my dog fridge and pantry foods"...is that where you keep the DOG FOOD? In that case, yes., "What if my dog ate a squirrel?"...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. and "hamster, fuzzy toes". Say what now?

Y'all keep 'em straight up thar! (and yes, long live Johnboy & Billy!!! Woo!)

More Letters To Gym People! Finally!

Yeah. I know. I've been horrible about posting lately. What can I say other than oops...sorry...my bad? So I'll try to make it up to y'all with some more letters to gym people. Yay! Aren't you excited?! I know I am! I mean really, me criticing people at the gym? Who wouldn't wanna read that?!

To Weird-Guy-In-Workshirt:

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.

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.

Thank you for your time,
The-girl-who-is-going-to-start-putting-"This Machine Is Broken"-signs-on-the-machines-around-her

To the Very Affectionate Couple:

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.

See what you made me do? I've never seen so many parenthases in my life!

To recap: don't make out at the gym, especially when dressed as a hotdog and a stripper.

Barfing-ly yours,
the-girl-who-will-now-never-be-comfortable-wearing-anything-less-than-baggy-shirts-
to-the-gym-thanks-to-you


....and finally....

To The Hot Guy Who Doesn't Go To The Gym Enough:

Dear Hot Guy,

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 Christian Bale in American Psycho thing going on. All that aside...you're pretty... ~drool~

Oops...there I go again.

School-girl-crushingly Yours,
barnmouse

**barnmouse disclaimer**

"NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT"

thankyouveddymuch

Note To Self:

Do not let hair dry while wrapped up in towel and then try to brush.

And also, ouch.

Letters to the Gym People (possibly with actual letters this time!)

To the guy walking on the treadmill beside me in socks,

*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.

*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?

Nose-scrunchingly Yours,
barnmouse

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.

Huh? I have to tell myself not to stare.

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.

Letters 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 other 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.

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".

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)

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 lady 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".

Umm...what?

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.

Really.

Wonder why?

I can't imagine.

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).

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.



And here's a picture of Ebenezer staring at the ducks imagining them in the oven.



And here's a picture of Winston not caring.

Pleez yallz....sumbodee jus rubs mah belly!

And if y'all are good, tomorrow I'll tell ya' about creepy bunny cupcakes! I know, you can't wait!

Ladies...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...


Yes I love them soooooo much. They are super comfy and also very stylish, no matter what anyone says. Pink spikes are IN this season!

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.

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.

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!

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.

*stepping down off soapbox*

/rant

Meh

Okay. 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.

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).

And you can like, leave messages for people? Am I correct about that?

Please, someone! Help! What's the point of MySpace?! I'm starting to get why people call it "WhySpace"...cause just really...whyyyyyy???

Anyway.

Enough of that.

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.

*whispers* my cat is staring at me....for like 5 minutes now...wtf...*/whispers*

So. My point? Umm...Oh yeah! I'll try to do better! :) Like now! See? Doing better! Writing stuff.

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?".

I'm looking for a name for that one now too. So...still looking for a name for this cake (and remember, winner gets doggy treats!!!) 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.

In other news....This is back.


Yeah. I know.

At least, I thought I knew. Until I got to play my new Spyro. Now...I am in love.

Yes. Yes, you are right. Rat IS the luckiest man alive! How sweet of you to notice.

And now, in closing, just because I love y'all, here is a picture of the shirt I wore today.


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.

Also, do you have any idea how many pictures I had to take to get one that focused on the shirt and not my boobs?

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.

And Johnboy, y'all have a nice day.

Of Ginger Marinated Hamster Toes and Brown Sugar Glazed Buffalo Boogers

I don't know if y'all remember, but back then, I was way too excited that we were getting a Trader Joes.

Yeeeeaaaaah.

Apparently, it was really nothing to get excited over.

They took what used to be a Winn Dixie and turned it into a Trader Joe's AND a Staples. And believe me when I tell you that most of that space went to Staples.

This place is cramped and filled with way too many overly excited, very rude people who push you with their carts. This place isn't even big enough for people to walk around with baskets, much less carts! Maybe it's calmed down a little bit there since I went, but I don't see this place every getting "un-crazy" enough for me to go back there. Unless of course I'm in the market for some of the strange ass shit they have there. Hey, try our lastest find! Guatemalan Chocolate Covered Monkey Farts! They're what every dish needs! And great for midnight snacking!

The only things I would ever go back there for are carob (for the dog treats) or this huge bottle of vanilla extract that I saw there for a pretty good price for my homemade marshmallows*. That's pretty much it.

And OMG - apparently, if you buy one of their "special items" of the day...the cashier rings this huge bell thing SO loud (and with no warning) and then hollers something out, but I was too busy screaming and running for the door to hear what it was! I'm sorry, but for skiddish, twitchy people like me, the loud bell and the yelling? Yeah, not a good combination.

When I finally made my way out of there, the outside had never felt so good. I think you could actually cut the anxiety in there with a knife. And the people? OMG The rude people! I could have gone my whole life without being rammed in the butt with a shopping cart. Yeah. That was interesting.

*stepping down off soapbox*

I'll be back later with a dog treat update.

*and the homemade marshmallows? Dee-Li-Shus!

The Funniest Thing I've Ever Seen....Ever.

Seriously. Ever.

Things I walked into today

Because this is the most fascinating thing I can come up with to write about today, I bring you "The List of Things I Walked into Today".

1. The wall. I woke up, rubbed my sleepy little eyes, crawled out of bed, headed for the bathroom and ran my entire right side into the wall. On the plus side, my entire left side made it through the door.

2. My exercise bike. My stationary exercise bike. But come to think of it, most of the things I ran into today were stationary. (see #1...those walls don't move around a lot)

3. The dog. Now, granted, he weighs a good 115 pounds, so he was fine, but owww! My poor toe! He has this aversion to having his toenails clipped and for a big boy, Shadow can be surprisingly squirmy, so I just kind of rely on the asphalt to wear them down, which actually works pretty well, but since I've been such a slacker lately I nearly impailed my TOE on his talon-ish claws. (wow...what a run-on sentence)

4. Another wall. I wasn't even sleepy this time. Or drunk. Bad wall. Bad. Hate.

5. The coffee table, but I'm constantly running into that damn thing. I think I have a permanant bruise on my leg from where the leg does this "hook" thing. I should take a picture. I'm pretty bored now.....so.....yeah. Yes. I'll take a picture.

6. This doesn't really count as running into something, but I was walking out into the garage and we have three steps that go down to a little landing and then there's a turn and you walk down two more steps. Most of the time, I get this right. Not today. I got down the first 2 steps okay, but then somehow, I managed this wiggle, twist thing and ended up facing the door, which I grabbed onto pretty hard. So #6 is "imaginary thing in garage".















7. The refrigerator. Also kind of an everyday occurance.

Gee. I really think I should start watching where I'm going.

8. I can't think of anything else, but the day's not over yet. The closer it gets to bedtime, the more likely I am to slam into some other random thing and cause slight, yet funny injury to myself. So check back later for updates.

Edited to add: The picture that I took and then totally forgot to include, AND a #9! I ran into the vacuum cleaner while vacuuming. Although I can't decide whether I ran into it or it ran into me. I mean, we were both moving at the same time. Considering that it ran over me, I think I'll say that it's a tie (since I was actually pulling it at the time).