Minor crisis today as my daughter came running to me, “OHMYGOD Mom, the dog just threw up a gut!”
Which seemed kinda unlikely since the dog was dinking around just fine.
Further examination revealed that, in fact, she’d eaten the foot off of a stuffed toy that looks like a red crab and had thrown that up.
So gross, but at least we aren’t heading to the emergency vet.
My daughters and I have a weakness for those bridal TV shows where women and their “entourages” shop for wedding gowns. (Although if we’re ever shopping for a wedding dress and either of mine ever refers to me as an “entourage,”I’m gonna start flinging beaded belts at their heads.)
Anyway, and I realize they do this in part because it’s better TV, there are a lot of women who say OHMYGOD HOW CAN I POSSIBLY CHOOSE A DRESS WHEN IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT DECISION OF MY LIFE?!!
As someone who’s been married for over twenty years, let me offer some advice: calm the fuck down. It’s a dress. As soon as the wedding’s over, you’ll put it away and only take it out again fifteen years later so your kids can laugh at how out of fashion it’s become. (And it will look hilarious to them. Guaranteed.)
Also don’t worry about how the dress will look IN THE PICTURES WHICH WE WILL HAVE FOREVER because after so many years pass, the only thing you see when you look at your wedding photos is how very, very young you looked when they were taken.
So, please, don’t work yourself into a panic attack and don’t spend a house payment’s worth on the thing.
It’s just a dress. Really.
Some days you have to take baby steps and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Clichéd, yes, but that doesn’t make it any less valid: sometimes that’s the only way you can make it through.
I cleaned out the fridge and found five jars of salsa. I’m pretty sure they’ve been breeding in there…
Wasn’t summer supposed to cut back on the places the kids and I need to be? Because it doesn’t seem to be working out that way…
Since September I’ve been freelancing for Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader, and although none of my articles have been published (yet, since I started in between volumes), I’ve sold them thirteen articles so far.
Then today my editor emailed and said she wants to put me under contract to do 50 pages for the next book. 50 pages!
Holy crap, I’m so excited!
Hubby and I heard Paul Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” on the radio, and he pointed out that, in fact, the song only lists like 6 actual ways to leave your lover. So then we started coming up with more:
Get a new job, Bob.
Leave no forwarding address, Les
Tell her you’re a molester, Chester.
Act like a dick, Nick.
Move out in the middle of the night, Dwight
You can play too, but per the song, the way to leave your lover has to rhyme with a man’s name.
Y’know what’d be great? Souless Sam and Demon Dean out together for a night on the town. Can somebody more talented than I am get on making a GIF of that? Please?
When my mother was little, her dad wouldn’t let her unpack the boxes of bananas at the grocery store in case a tarantula happened to be in there…
Which reminds me of another thing I learned in Vegas: tarantulas are surprisingly soft. I petted one at the Natural History Museum. And didn’t faint. Yay, me!
1. No, it was nothing like that. A) I’m old. B) The kids were with us. C) My parents live there.
2. No matter what they say about “dry heat,” 108 is fucking hot.
3. Roos N More is the most awesome place, ever. Otters tried to eat my daughter’s shirt:
4. Even if they cost $700+, sky-high heels with no support in the footbed are really, really uncomfortable. Sorry, Leboutin, but I don’t think so.
5. There are slot machines in the grocery stores, even in the suburbs. Really.
6. After the 3rd Cirque de Soleil show, they all start to look alike. Weird characters do incomprehensible things that are supposed to be funny in between circus acts. The end.
7. Although my parents have taken us to the Natural History Museum, the Nevada State Museum, Springs Preserve, and the National Atomic Testing Museum, they’ve never once offered to take us to the Erotic Heritage Museum.
8. I didn’t expect I’d like a ventriloquist with puppets, but Terry Fator’s show is really good. The loud guy behind me really found them hysterical.
9. How do you tell the difference between “massage parlors” and legit massage places from the outside? How often do people with strained necks innocently wander into a “happy ending” kind of place? And is that embarrassing for everyone involved?
10. It’s always good to go away, but it’s always better to come home.