If you were ever wondering why I can't seem to read anyone's blog or- you know- be "productive" on a daily basis...
This may help to explain...
My life...every damn day, give or take a few details:
5:13 a.m: New cat (a.k.a. "Trouble") jumps on Mr. WM's junk while purring. Mr. WM is slightly amused, yet slightly "injured". Trouble finds jingly toy thingy and proceeds to play with himself (that's what she said).
6:03 a.m: Old cat (a.k.a. "Pooter") becomes jealous that New Cat is sleeping on our bed. Chase and tussle ensues.
6:14 a.m: New Cat finds other jingly toy, proceeds to jingle said toy until definitely sleepy and possibly still-drunk WM takes said toy away. (Repeat at 6:22 a.m. when Trouble finds other "jingly" toy)
6:30 a.m: Mr. WM is rudely awakened by MPR's soft drone. Mr. WM grunts and sighs, but is unmoved.
6:36 a.m: Mr. WM grunts and lumbers out of bed, annoyed, when bluegrass music comes on. He is followed closely by relentlessly meowing paparazzi. Mr. WM goes in the can and shuts the door tightly, to the dismay of his fans.
6:55 a.m: Mr. WM kisses his ferociously sexy and internationally acclaimed wife goodbye, only after discussing the pooping habits of the cats first.
7:08 a.m: Mrs. WM considers getting up.
7:09 a.m: Decides not to.
8:04 a.m: Thinks about getting up, as she rolls over. Decides not to get up, again.
8:47 a.m: Relentless meowing and NASCAR-esque racing from the feline members of the household make it impossible to just lay around anymore. WM is forced to get up.
8:48 a.m: WM is cranky as she puts on her slippers and opens the upstairs blinds. She thinks that if she had human children, at least she could give them to a church...or something.
9:04 a.m: WM eats her Quaker Oatmeal Squares, but only after feeding the demon spawn. Trouble finishes his Friskies, then breathes heavily in WM's face while she is trying to endure her fiber and such. WM decides to eat sheep dung for breakfast tomorrow, in the hopes of having a chance in the "breath" competition.
9:34 a.m: WM decides that, though she found "Ellen" interesting years ago...now she just finds her to be "Oprah lite".
10:02 a.m: WM decides to work out. Today WM opts for kickboxing paired with the wild flailing commonly referred to as "aerobics". WM makes it through kickboxing like a pro, but aerobics finds her wishing she were anywhere where DVD players did not exist. Like third world Africa.
10:58 A.M: finds WM eating "early lunch", consisting of an egg white and tofu scramble and a piece of toast.
10:59 a.m: WM feels guilty about eating toast with peanut butter and awesome cherry jam. WM then flogs herself with olive branches out of guilt.
11:08 a.m: WM tries to catch up on the hobby known as "blogging". Phone rings. Cats rub butts in her face. E-mail beckons.
11:27 a.m: WM realizes that she needs a whole day off to blog. Schedules "personal day" immediately.
12:02 p.m: WM realizes that, if she wants to make it to work with a tiny bit of time to get "acclimated", then she needs to get moving...NOW.
12:42 p.m: WM emerges from marathon, scalding-hot shower, wrinkly and goofy from the heat. Decides to walk to work.
12:43 p.m: Fails to realize what a hotard she is.
12:50 p.m: WM rushes to get ready so she can race-walk to work and "enjoy" the scenery whilst "enjoying" a good cardiovascular workout.
1:08 p.m: Sees, for the second time in as many months, adult twins dressed identically with matching haircuts and walking in stride. Thanks the gods of blogging that she has her camera:
1:37 p.m: Arrives at work, regrets saying hello to...you know. THAT GUY. That guy that brings you down just by mentioning the weather. That guy that talks WAAAAY too close with death breath, that guy that has the questionable stain on his pants...
2:28 p.m: Realizes that class is in 2 minutes. Hasn't finished making copies or cruising tabloid websites. Opts for copies, swooshes into class with a...flourish?
4:38 p.m: Takes a break from class. Checks e-mail, responds to cries of, "Where the fuck are you??? Have you fallen off of the planet or have you been abducted by a serial killer, either way can we have your shoes????" with..."Um, I don't know. Sorry."
4:56 p.m: Can't respond to e-mails in a timely manner, decides to buy cat collars online instead. Gets "New Cat" one with devil kitties and one with skulls and crossbones- gets "old" kitty one with flying pigs.
7:04 p.m: Class dismisses, WM retires to office.
7:45 p.m: WM decides that it will be "too dark" if she "has" to walk home, calls Mr. WM for a ride.
7:46 p.m: Mr. WM sighs and agrees.
7:59 p.m: Mr. WM arrives in the pimped out 2009 Lexus ( a.k.a. rusty 1997 VW) to pick up WM.
8:04 p.m: WM plays with the kitties, but not enough to their liking. Fighting ensues.
8:08 p.m: WM pours herself a glass of wine. WM sighs.
8:12 p.m: WM fixes "dinner" which consists of a salad paired with Morningstar farms Buffalo Wings.
8:45 p.m: Lick "buffalo" leavings off of fingers, clean up "dinner" mess and settle in for quality TV viewing.
9:01 p.m: Pour self another glass of wine/fix another cocktail. Throw fluffy thingy at cat that insists on jumping whilst meowing as their form of "performance art".
9:38 p.m: Pour self another glass of wine/fix another cocktail and settle in for "My name is Earl" "30 Rock" or "Curb your Enthusiasm" reruns. Laugh like an idiot.
10:29 p.m: Wonder how to carefully extricate your spouse from the couch while not waking them up. Realize this is impossible, so commence annoying shaking maneuver.
Spouse eventually whines "Whhaaaaaatttt????" and rolls over and promptly falls asleep. Decide the urge to leave said spouse on couch with possible neck injury is outweighed by possible MASSIVE amount of whining that would ensue of said spouse was inflicted with lifelong neck ailment. Shake the shit out of said spouse and say things like, "Fine, I'll just leave your sorry ass here and I'll get the bed to myself, sucka."
10:30 p.m: Spouse is so annoyed by WM's use of the word "sucka" that he grunts, gets up, and goes to bed.
10:35 p.m: WM polishes off last glass of wine, thinks about staying up and "totally not drunk" blogging, but opts to go to bed as to avoid any further embarrassment this month.
10:37 p.m: Launches into nightly cleansing/moisturizing ritual that keeps WM from looking, at age "nearly 37" like an exquisite alligator handbag.
3:34 a.m: Finishes cleansing/moisturizing ritual. Goes to bed.
6:04 a.m: It all begins again...
This explains a lot...
Ah, a day in the life of you. So many questions answered.
Hey....how dare you post a photo of me and myself on the internet (I was home sick) without my...er...our permission?
Sounds strikingly similar to a day in my life...you know, minus the work thing, and adding a golden retriever & a St Bernard to the mix...and 2 human children (did I forget to mention them?)
There are still a lot of gaps in your day, sort of like how the bible skips over Jesus' 12-to-30 years. Come on, couldn't you get detailed?
I kid, of course. This was exhaustively detailed. But on a serious note: I still read that word of yours as "Hot Tard," and I want to know what's wrong with me. And high five on the Kids in the Hall shout out.
This just proves my point that dressing alike, especially for twins, of any age, is creepy.
If I didn't drunk blog, I wouldn't have a blog at all.
I got lost after the part where you didn't have to get out of bed until after 8.
I think maybe I started salivating.
fran: Yes. I know how sad this is.
h- yes, like many I'm sure you often wondered what my superstar life is like. Unfortunately for you, now you know.
perf shelly: If that's you and you, then I must tell you this- nice ass(es). Very toned.
christy: Indeed. If I had human children I think my life would implode.
Mcgone- are you jealous that I'll be in the 9th row Saturday night at the Kids in the Hall LIVE??
sornie- I KNOW! I just have to wonder why they keep crossing my path. The universe is trying to tell me something.
gbuns: I think I may have been a little slushy when I wrote this, but I can't remember.
Other WM: Main reason I love my job- no alarm clock.
SRU: I totally am turning into a creepy cat lady, whether I like it or not. Dammit.
OK, I think you've touched on why I don't now--nor could I ever own a cat.
Also, do you actually moisturize from 10:37 pm until 3:34 AM daily? I'm not sure what to think about that...
I like that you included that Mr. shut the bathroom door tightly. This morning I did not shut the door tightly and my stupid cat pushed it open so she could rub on my legs while I peed. I actually yelled at her, "GET OUT OF HERE!" And she quietly walked out, let out a pathetic "Mew" and plopped herself on the ground like I was the meanest person in the world. Sorry, cat, but I don't dig tail in my private areas. Stupid cats. Now I have to get caught up and figure out where "new one" came from.
You lead such a glamorus life.
that pretty much sums it up.....
Grueling schedule - out of bed by the crack of 9, 40 minute shower, work for five hours and skim a ride home - I don't know how you do it all.
I've got tickets to The Kids in The Hall, too! I'm squishing your head from here!
Before you write Ellen off completely - she's having David Beckham on tomorrow...
that cat stuff is one reason mine has his own apartment in the central hillside.
Jeez... and I think I'm busy!!
Also, those morningstar farms buffalo wings are DELICIOUS.
that 6 hour moisturizing routine is working very well for you. You should do an infomercial.
I'd do this same thing with my day, except it would go like this:
6:29pm: writing this very sentence. 6:30pm - now I'm writing this sentence.
6:31pm - this is going to get old quickly.
6:32pm - this just got old.
Yup, it all makes sense now. I have three cats, and I can't tell you how much cat-ass I have to see on a daily basis.
"nascar-esque" perfectly describes all cats.
I want your moisturizing routine in great detail--exactly what do you use. Can you de-alligatoriz an exquisite alligator face in a desert?
I'm getting a lot of shit at my site for having sunk below some blogging level I didn't know I had ever achieved. I started with a lot of political passion, but this long slog toward failure has depressed me so much that now my bitterness knows no bounds. I'm blogging about snoring. I have a bed on my site that I poached from another woman and it rates your bedly hourly rate. I'm worth $876. an hour. This cheered me up for a couple of seconds until I started getting shit for posting such falderall. Fuck em if they can't take a joke or a little bitterness.
We're eerily similar.
Jingly toys and bluegrass before 7 a.m.? Jesus. I think I'd move the wine/cocktails up and fit them in somewhere between 6:36 a.m. and 6:55 a.m.
THE FOLLOWING IS A PRELIMINARY COMMENT ** THE FOLLOWING IS A PRELIMINARY COMMENT **
You may be many things Whiskey, but mediocre isn't one of them. Now please pardon me for an hour, because "Lost" is coming on, but I'll be back for the rest of the hilarity at 11.
THE PRECEDING HAS BEEN A PRELIMINARY COMMENT ** THE PRECEDING HAS BEEN A PRELIMINARY COMMENT **
That makes perfect sense now! You may need to take the jingle out of the toys.
Haha. Your life is infinitely more interesting than mine. HUGE fan of7:09 - 8:04 a.m. ; )
WM is a girl on the go to say the least. Take some time out for a fine pint or one of those fancy drinks that seem to come your way.
When adult identical twins still look identical it freaks me out ... it's like they're some kind of mutants or something. I had a boss once that I didn't like, and one day I came into the office, and there were 2 of him. I truly thought there was something wrong with my vision. Or brain. Or both.
Is that really HOURS worth of moisturizing??? The only moisturizing I know that could possible take that long is...well..never mind.
I love it that Mr. WM's supporting role is described only by grunts and sighs.
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