Phone personality test

Do you ever wonder how people would judge you if they went through your phone photos? For instance, what kind of person do you think would snap pictures of:

Creepy figurines?

My favorite part is that they capitalized "Special."

Friendly pink balloons?

A very mysterious mystery girl, who appears to be so hungry that she wants to lick her dino tattoo and then eat the phone?

A dirty Easter card?!

Wait... is that a pile of...... CPR PRACTICE BABIES?

 
And then this handsome fella who appears quite concerned about the whole situation?

Yeah, I have no idea who would want to document all those 'special moments' either. Noooo idea.
(Care to share yours?)

Really terrible reasons to start a family

I'm watching my friends, one-by-one, succumb to baby fever. It's like a real-life version of the twitterpation scene from Bambi.

I keep expecting it to hit, but I've got nothing. I love kids, but babies? I don't get it.

So far, the only reasons I've even thought about starting a family have been... shallow. Very shallow. Such as:

We first liked the names "Emma," "Sophia," and "Will." But we all know what happened with those names. So a year ago we picked new ones (because how else do you pass long car rides?).

Sure enough, the new picks have started slowly creeping up the "most popular names" list. I keep having mini panic attacks every time a friend or relative gets knocked up (what if they use it first? eeeeeeeep). (So, current name candidates? Under lockdown.)

Plus, there are the materialistic things like THESE:

[from]

And THIS:

[from]

Another selfish reason: because I think pregnancy is the coolest thing ever. Your uterus grows to 1,000 times its size. If your whole body pulled that off, well... here are the tallest buildings in the world:

Here is you x1,000 next to those buildings:

LARGE & IN CHARGE, BABY.   L A R G E   &   I N   C H A R G E  .

And another terrible reason for getting knocked up? Because I am DYYYYING to have a puppy right now. And our apartment doesn't allow puppies, but it does allow babies. BAD April. Baby does not equal surrogate puppy.

Any more posts like these and the Child Services people are going to be waiting in the delivery room to seize our newborns.

Sure, I want kids someday. Sure, I've loved my future offspring ever since I realized I could have offspring. Sure, I've loved them even more since I met the guy who would be contributing half their chromosomes and raising them with me.

But I don't want them right now. (Okay, maybe a tiny bit. Like a 5.5-out-of-10 amount of Want.)
(But that's all.)
(& I hope they get his hair.)

Computer Armageddon : (

I think it's safe to say I'm having some slight technical difficulties.

Friday night, as "the Bible guranteed it," my four-year-old MacBook laptop was raptured. Literally, its little light went out. Poor old 'Pooter (short for Compooter).

Luckily, I had just bought a new iMac (desktop), and kept right on computin'.

Well, apparently both my computers are saints-- because the iMac screen just died too. I wish I were making this up. (The desktop's name was 'Pootation Station, just so you all can properly grieve/rejoice for its saved little soul.)


So until I can get this figured out, I will miss writing here, & miss commenting on your blogs too!

I guess I should go look up some porn or online poker with my phone (what I'm writing with now-- not fun) before the Almighty Motherboard in the Sky deems it worthy of salvation as well.

This is how stylish I am.

what? I had mango stuck in my teeth.  or MAYBE THAT'S JUST HOW GANGSTA I REALLY AM

So stylish that I won an award for it.

Thanks to (the actually really super stylish) Jacqueline @ v o j a c q u e!

Hey, do you guys want to hear seven random facts about me?
Well today's your lucky day, because that's what I'm supposed to tell you when I get this award:

[1] White has been my favorite color since I learned its name in preschool, and I get more obsessed with it every year. (Second-favorite colors rotate on a daily basis, but are almost always delightfully loud and obnoxious.)

makes my heart go pitter-patter

[2] Speaking of loud & obnoxious, my favorite band? Metallica. I'm a sucker for anything minor-key-- even if they're screaming their larynxes out, it soothes me.

[3] ...but Brit-Brit has always come in a close second.

[4] As much as I want to go out and work my butt off and save the world, my whole life I've felt like I was born to have some kids and then love them a crazy amount. I doubt I'll ever be a stay-at-home-mom, but I also know that nothing will ever be more important than my family.

[5] I'm terrified of people who I can't read easily. That includes anyone wearing sunglasses.

(Or alternatively, Keanu Reeves without sunglasses.)

[6] I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm currently rehabbing 3 injuries: hip tendonitis, a shoulder strain, and a knee strain. This is how I now have to do pushups at the gym:

they're called rubber-band-assisted one-armed pushups. I'm such a badass little grandma.

[7] Jason was the first "boy" (yeah, it was that long ago) that I ever kissed without him being my official "boyfriend." But then we went and got married, so it ended up being not so scandalous after all. Oh, well. I tried.

first make-out sesh wasn't quite this dramatic :>

I could still just make out with that dude's face all day long. (Except that he's developed a lot more chin hair since 2003 and there would probably be scabs by the end of the day).

****

And now I'm supposed to list ten stylish little blargy-blargs, and by "stylish" I mean blargs that are new-ish blargs that I love & want to spread the word about [...alphabetical, yo]:

• Adventures of a Ginger: This chick is kind of nuts, and more than "kind of" nerdy. Enjoy.
• All Groan Up: a hilarious yet sincere attempt at figuring out what exactly growing up even... means...?
• Beautiful Little Fool-- wacky, often vulgarity-strewn recollections of a young high-school teacher.
• A Creative Beginning-- Super rad home renovation projects by my friend from Architecture school.
• life is sweet. love is real.-- often goofy, stunningly introspective glimpse into the life of two head-over-heels newlyweds.
• tumor-ey side of me-- A brave, beautiful, & faith-guided young woman's journey with a rare disease that grows hundreds of painful tumors on the nerves throughout her body. This chick's amazing.
• Margo & Betty-- beautiful photography and crafts! Eye candy warning-- don't lick your screen.
• Scrumptious Somethings-- JACKPOT blend of stylish, geeky, and romantical. I <3 this blog.
• She Got Married-- all about being a newlywed; lately has been focusing on healthy & inexpensive meals. Makes meh hungreh.
• True Colours-- I love me some deep introspection, and this blog's got it in spades.

           (I'll email all of you on the list tonight w/ full details!)

I'll get back on-track with regular posts soon, I just piled too much on my plate these past two weeks... and then got super sick on top of it.

However, recharge has almost completed.
(Evil cackle.) (With the aid of a sick raspy throat.)

[images] [1]  [2]  [3]  [4 (I drew it)]  [5]  [6]  [7]

I am a pathetic ball of pathetic-ness and melodramatic-ness

I wrote a post last night but blogger deleted it. It was about sticks. It was weird. But you guys are weird too, so you might've liked it.

(***EDIT: hey, whaddddaya know. As soon as I finish this new post, the old one magically reappears.)

Enjoy some random photos from Easter. I'm not even trying to pretend I've got my 'ish together, amigos.

I am sick. So very, very sick. Sick in the lungs. Lungs are dying.

Despite this, I have to go to Lifeguarding Certification Class all week from 4pm-8pm and shiver in a cold pool and try not to hack my lungs out the whole time while dragging people up from the deep end.  Tomorrow's special Saturday class of specialness is eight hours long. Hopefully no one has to lifeguard-me-for-realsies up from the bottom of the pool.

Jason is stuck in his lab experimentating on stuff from 10am-2am every day, beginning two weeks ago and lasting three more from now. I meeesh him.

We're running out of groceries and somehow I have to drag myself to the store to feed myself. There are several other things on my to do list, such as finishing my architecture website by Monday. Haaaaa.

Oh, my wee blog, I exhausted myself trying to spend some time on you and write about sticks and then you deleted it. You should be honored that I'm making the effort to type capital letters right now and make you look all fancily grammatically-correct.

Here's a meager attempt at internet goodies:

• This might actually be a plausible reality.
• As well as this epic scene from UP.
• Can't say the same for these cute little guys, though. But I added myself to the waitlist anyway.
• Speaking of Rrrrrusia.... 
• Llama font via Cup of Jo.
• Did you live your childhood watching The Little Mermaid twice daily? (Oh... just me?) Anyway, 18"x36" of sheer awe.

Aaand a random snot thippet thought snippet from this week:
Remember this stuff from freshman biology?

So, then:  is apple juice pretty much just apple cytoplasm?
Deep, I know.

Have an awesome weekend, amigos.

What's brown and sticky?

About a month ago, Jason & I awoke to see this godzilla-ing its way down the street:

I mean, literally godzilla-ing-- it sacked out an entire traffic light pole, and left a trail of snapped-off tree branches in its wake.

This was exciting. I have this... this thing about branches.

I love them.

No, it's more than that. I ADORE them. I adore a good branch sitting on the ground. If I'm walking somewhere, and I see a nice branch, I can't just let it sit there. I have to "have" it.

I pick it up and continue my walk, savoring its branchishness; its stickishness; its natureishness-- if it's especially large, I drag it behind me on the ground. After a while, I feel satisfied, & I can set the branch back down and continue on my way.

I found an extra special stick in while Japan-- bamboo driftwood! I carried that one for a looong time.

(All of this leads me to believe I was a dog in a previous life. I just feel so happy when I've got an excellent stick.)

Sometimes, as was the case with the sticks I scored from the over-sized house event, I can find a use for the sticks. It's times like these I consider myself a "functioning" stickaholic:

There now. That's kind of nice, isn't it?

But other times, I lose the "functioning" part. Such as this King of All Sticks that I dragged onto our patio at 8am, barefoot & in my pajamas, no less than four months ago:

This, plus the awesome "Trick-or-Treat" mat = no solicitors. Good deal.

It's AWESOME, right? (Unlike the gross wet leaves all over the place). I rationalized that I would find a use for this majestic stick; yet four months later, it's still just sitting there.


I will find a use for it.



(...Other than helping visitors find our apartment.)






(...And drying my suit between daily lifeguard lessons.)






Any other ideas for it, my wonderful and creative amigos??
Support my stick habit. Be enablers. It's okay.

***
P.S. Oh yeah, I guess I should answer the title of this post for you. It's just my favorite joke of all time, you know, NBD:

Q: What's brown and sticky?
....drumroll....

A: a STICK!!!


favorite.      joke.      ever.

My leg hair's 9-month adventure

Sometime earlier this spring, I realized I hadn't shaved above my mid-shins since August. I announced this to Jason. He gave me a high-five (aaaaand that's why I married the guy).

Here's the gratuitous photo:

Kidding. Those are Jason's legs. But it's an accurate representation, other than his enviable quadriceps. Okay, if you MUST-- here's mine. Yeaaaah-heah-heah-heahhhh BABY. Pretty sure mine are even hairier than the mister's.

Oh, my little strings of keratin. You've been through a gamut of adventures since August:

You began your journey of growth whilst frolicking about Disneyworld.
You kept me as warm as a wooly mammoth in Sveeden.

You've been to recent physical therapy appointments where--SURPRISE!!-- the doctor asked me to change into shorts. Awkward.

Then you accompanied me to another appointment where the doctor put that weird therapy tape on my knee:

except way hairier

...and then you went to another doctor appointment a week later where I had to rip off the $&^% TAPE and HOLY FLAMING HELLFIRE I SWEAR I WILL NEVER TRY WAXING IN MY LIFE. I made my poor (male) doctor do it because I literally could not will myself to pull on the tape. (So for that, and just for being awesome, I'll give him a little plug here: Dr. Gervais will fix your injuries AND rip off your leg hair for you-- without even cringing at all the hair stuck to the tape.)

But this week... alas. The weather got hot and I had to run a timed 6K (3.7 miles) at my gym. Not something I wanted to do in sweatpants.

THE TIME WAS NIGH TO HARVEST ZEE CROPS.

The idea of it tortured me. My leg hair had grown on me, and I was rather attached to it (I'm SORRY, I'm SORRY, it's not even funny, but was two puns in one sentence and I just couldn't let the opportunity pass me by).

But really, amigos. I'm serious. I was sad. I stroked my fuzzy knee caps wistfully, and reminisced: I hadn't shaved my legs all fall, winter, and spring, because, dammit, shaving my legs is a completely pointless societal expectation, contrived by giant pharmaceutical companies so they can sell more razors. And it's really really boring to do. And I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.

...that is, until I actually have to wear shorts in public. Way to walk the walk, April.

I thought of all that work those little follicles had accomplished; I'll bet they were so proud. I thought of all that protein that my bloodstream had lovingly set aside for a little decorative somethin'-somethin' for my legs. Nine looong months of tedious hair-building, gone with the effortless swipe of a razor.

* * *

Forty minutes and three decimated razors later, my fall foliage was clogging the drain and I was rushing into the gym five minutes late.

We stepped outdoors to begin the run, and I felt a strange sensation on my left thigh. A... rustling, if you will. I looked down.

I had missed a chunk. A little oasis of lingering wildlife amidst a clear-cutted massacre zone. And the rustling sensation was it gleefully blowing in the breeze.

It enjoyed the 6K run like a dog with its head out a car window (believe me, I speak fluent folliclean).

And now it's three days later... and I still haven't shaved it.
I love stories with happy endings.

I have a blog girlfriend

As in, like, a romantical kind of girlfriend.

Things were already seriously serious between Nano and me, but then she had to go and write this blog review about yours truly. Within it are some of the sweetest compliments I've ever gotten in my whole life.

I'm tempted to consider the marriage proposal that she ends it with. (Except that I'm already prrrrretty married-- so I guess our BLOGS can be engaged! I don't know exactly what this entails, but it's exciting.)

...technicalities. ANYWAY. I am floored.

         FLOOOORED. See? Down here on the floor.                                                                             

My blog is not the jealous type, so it doesn't mind if you go on a little field trip over to its cute, feisty, hilarious girlfriend fiance, Phile Not Found, and check her out. She's a beauty.

& SHUCKS. This made my day. Actually-- my month, at least. I'm finding myself nervous to write any more posts now, because I don't want to ruin this glowing opinion.

Ha. Right...as if I could ever keep my mouth shut around these parts.

P.S. I love that she linked to this photo of The Hubster. It's a favorite for sure.