More than you wanted to know about a day in the life of a mediocre blogger...

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916811230646970708.post-70831358102140584422008-04-23T00:10:00.005-05:002008-04-23T01:35:24.000-05:002008-04-23T01:35:24.000-05:00More than you wanted to know about a day in the life of a mediocre blogger...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_VTZjrOFLAKg/SA7Xj70dzTI/AAAAAAAABxg/U9HfH08jDVA/s1600-h/IMG_hotard,+thinking0001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_VTZjrOFLAKg/SA7Xj70dzTI/AAAAAAAABxg/U9HfH08jDVA/s200/IMG_hotard,+thinking0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192324432757902642" border="0" /></a>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 <a href="http://www.whiskeymarie.com/2008/03/you-heard-it-here-first-hotard.html">hotard</a> 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 <a href="http://www.whiskeymarie.com/2008/04/suck-it-rembrandt.html">second time</a> 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: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_VTZjrOFLAKg/SA7NCb0dzSI/AAAAAAAABxY/S2xzYQj4QWQ/s1600-h/IMG_twins,+again0001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_VTZjrOFLAKg/SA7NCb0dzSI/AAAAAAAABxY/S2xzYQj4QWQ/s320/IMG_twins,+again0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192312862116007202" border="0" /></a> 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... You know. THAT guy. 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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kids_in_the_Hall">flying pigs</a>. 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 <a href="http://community.morningstarfarms.com/products.aspx?coid=23%7C59&family=365%7C635">Buffalo Wings</a>. 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... Damn.Whiskeymariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16680444919622976790candycanewhiskey@yahoo.com33