- I pulled a muscle in my crotchal region yesterday. I was attempting to not fall on my bum at work after stepping on a slimy piece of onion. I didn't fall, but I felt something "snap" in the area in question, and now I'm in pain. Looks like I won't be doing the splits or cracking walnuts open with my thighs anytime soon.
- After seeing this disgustingly cute video of the kitten that loves broccoli, I decided to see if my turdlets feel the same way about the stinky green stuff. I nuked a piece in the microwave for a few seconds, cooled it, then let the two inky beasts have at it. They freaking LOVED it. Trouble snarfed the whole thing down and made a weird, low, gutteral, rumbling noise whenever anyone came near or if Pooter tried to horn in on his broccoli action. It was hilarious, and when I get a chance I'm shooting my own kitty/broccoli porno.
- I ordered a pair of jeans online, and instead of the size I ordered, they sent me a size 1. As in "smaller than a size TWO." Then, when I returned them and re-ordered, they sent me the wrong jeans. Instead of cute, booty-huggin', flattering jeans, I got baggy, high-waisted, tapered "mom-jean" nastiness. I'm not sure what the universe is trying to tell me, but I'm pretty sure the universe needs to just shut the hell up and mind it's own business.
- I love the show 30-Rock so much that I want to take it out behind the middle school and get it pregnant.
- Instead of a tree this year, I threw green lights in a potted plant and called it a day. And no, I'm not joking.
- If the internets didn't exist, no one would be getting gifts this year. I would have to make everyone macaroni art and hope for the best. Anyone on my gift-giving list should hug their computer and offer up a sacrificial virgin to Al Gore for giving us the bounty that is online shopping.
- I ate an entire (large) bag of white-cheddar popcorn the other day. My fingers still smelled like cheese the next morning. If we're keeping score- Shame-spiral: 1, Whiskeymarie: zero.
- I've spent so much time at work lately that I'm starting to enjoy the gentle hum of the flourescent lights and the pasty glow it gives my already-freakishly-pale skin. This fact might explain the lack of quality posting as of late. After Friday I'm off for almost three weeks, so I promise to tell you all about my fallopian tubes (they're fine, thanks for asking) and maybe I'll give you the play-by-play of the action that was "Whiskey scooping out the litterbox this morning." Good stuff.
Happy Wednesday, my cheddary broccoli crotchal injuries. Happy Wednesday.