Pretend Tumblr

I had NO CLUE it would be this hard to post regularly with a job/side projects/when I want to spend all my spare time frolicking in the glorious summer sunshine. Wow, kids. Wow. Thanks for sticking around.

The silly thing is, whenever I go online nowadays I think,
"Dude, I would have a blast with a Twitter account,"
and, more even more frequently,
"How on earth do I not have a Tumblr yet?"

Because I would spend ALL DAY AND NIGHT collecting pretty pictures, animals, and geeky things:

And of course...
 

sniffle.

*end tumble spree.
That helped a little... but still, I'm tempted. Maybe once the sun starts hibernating again, I'll reconsider?

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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.)

Elevator Music

Happy weekend, amigos!

 [via]

I've had a fantastically busy week which has been terrible for blogging, but wonderful for, well, LIFE.

Here are a few links that have made me laugh, think, or do a double take:

• Whoa: Matthews(ers), tumblr style. Thanks, Google!
• Life's too short for the wrong job.  
• Jason watched every single one of these these little cat videos in one sitting.
• More than a little obsessed with tilt-shift photography.
• Aaand on the other end of the scale: microscopic views of everyday items. 
• One dog saves another dog's life! This brought tears to my eyes.
• Luckily for us, wildlife are curious about cameras.

And one random thought that's puzzled me this week*:

[via]

How the heck does Disney make us think one deer is a BOY deer and one deer is a GIRL deer? This fascinates me. Any ideas?
*picture me contemplating this as I stroke my silver chin hair. I named him Gandalf, FYI.

See you on Monday-- my talkative side has been bubbling up and is going to explode allll over this website next week. I have the most appealing way of phrasing things, I know.

30 days of false schizophrenia, comin' right up.

You know that weird feeling you get when you think you hear someone say your name? Welcome to my life for the next month: April.

April, April, April.

Tomorrow's my favorite. Every year, somebody thinks they're the first person ever to have come up with this:

"Hey, April!"
"Yeah?"
"FOOLS!!!!"

(Okay, maybe it's a little funny.) (Heh. I need more friends named April so I can do this to them.)

It gets really interesting when I have to wear a name tag, like when I had a restaurant job. At least 5 times a night throughout the month of April, people would crack little jokes like "Hey! Your name tag is also a calendar right now!"

It was so relentless that on April 29th, an old man looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in his eye and said, "You're almost over," and I didn't even think for a second that he was some sort of doomsday prophet.

I also get a lot of: "What's your middle name? Mayyyy?"

Or: "What month were you born in? April???"

Oh, Mom and Dad. It's as if you two prophesized that, although I was due to be born in March, I would hang out two extra weeks to be born in... April.

And it's as if my parents knew that I'd grow up to be a big ol' barefooted hippie whose favorite animals, in all seriousness, are ducks:

and bunnies. 

Soooooo fluffy I'm gonna die.

Good call on the name game, you two.

And then May rolls around, and I realize I must be more narcissistic than I realize: because I kind of miss hearing my name all the time.

So, I will secretly enjoy the false attention for the next 30 days. (And then there will be an awkward one-week period where I accidentally ignore people who really are saying my name.)


Photo cred: (1) (2)

Elevator music

It's been a busy week for me in terms of job-hunting (this is a good thing! I'm patting myself on the back!), but that doesn't mean I'm not going to skip out on giving you, dear readers, some major distraction from whatever else you were doing before you decided to visit.

First of all, prepare to never look at a plastic bag the same way again. (Note that this is voiced by Scar, which makes it all the more credible:)



Oh, yes. That really just happened.

• Another cute little guy that I want to watch over & over & over (the first "cute little guy" being the bumbling little plastic bag, of course).

Also:

• When former spelling-bee geeks grow up to be activists.
• And what they do in their spare time.
• And what they really, really want for their birthday which happens to be coming up in 36 days ; )

{via}

Furthermore:

• Say goodbye to the next five minutes, at least. (Hint: hit your "refresh page" button to clear checked boxes.)
• Instant daily karma.
• And some awww factor (aside from the plastic bag & frisky fox.)

(P.S. Cross your fingers for me!! I'm really looking forward to rockin' the cubicle life-- not even kidding.)

This is getting bad

Last weekend my friend Stacy & I got together for a painting date (check out her super creative artwork here.) Lucky me, not only does she have a big adorable goof of a dog whom I followed around the whole time, but she also has four CHICKENS!

Meet Dogfood, Captain Morgan, Nugget, and Princess Parmesan:

Stacy's photos of her ladies : )

We just sat and watched them for about ten minutes-- or as she calls it, Chicken TV. Totally transfixing.

Apparently they really like hanging out around people, so she moved her work desk next to the big glass doors by the deck. She said they just sit outside the door and stare at her the whole time. Funniest mental image of the week, seriously. And sure enough, there's an artfully splattered Poop Zone a foot away from the door.

So now not only do I want dogs, cats, rats, rabbits, and a squirrel or two, but chickens are the latest coveted creature. I'm planning a full-"fledged" circus here.

(Bahahahhaa I "crack" myself up.)
(Okay, stopping. Sorry.)

Later that night at home, I excitedly told Jason about how "chickens like to stare at people!!!" Apparently this wasn't as hilarious to him as it was to me, so I just kind of trailed off and cut to the chase:

"Would you want chickens one day? Pleeease?"
"Maybe."
"COOL!!"
...
"...Would we eat them?"
"NO!"
"What if they died?"
"NO! That's... that's just awkward."
...
...
...
"...What if they died around Thanksgiving?"
"JASON!!"

I've got The Fever

I've got it bad. Just not for human babies.

But now I understand what baby fever feels like... because I've got FURBABY FEVER.   Every time I see a dog, I muffle myself from asking the stranger on the other end of the leash if they need a dogsitter. I slow my speed creepishly as I drive past the pound, telling myself it will only make things worse to "just go in and look." I'm even ready to raise some wild rat babies again... but that's a whole different blog post.

I'm starting to have weird dreams, too:

(Totally ridiculous, right? I mean, there's NO WAY my boobs will ever be that big.)

And then don't even get me started on Jason's obsession with cats. One night I was hanging out with a friend and her new baby kitten, and I called Jason to make him jealous. It started out as a normal conversation, and then I decided to drop the bomb:

"So guess what I'm doing right now, Jay? I get to play with Sara's brand-new little KITTEN!!" (Gosh, I can be really mean sometimes.)

"WhhHHAT??" he gasps, after the stunned silence required to wrap his mind around such a miracle.

"Yup! She's only a couple weeks old, and she's stripey with big blue eyes, and she's still got that really big, round, cute kitten belly."

"Awww..." (His voice is reduced to barely a whisper at the thought of this little furball.) And then he says, tenderly, his voice almost cracking with sincerity,
"Send her ALL my love."

To this day that is the funniest thing I have ever heard Jason say. I know, I'm lucky to have snagged such a sweet and caring guy-- but I have serious concerns that once we get a cat, it will get more cuddle-time than me. The man LOVES CATS.

For now, though, we can't have any pets in our apartment. We can only have stupid "aquarium fish," and to me, those might as well be houseplants. (So keep them away, because I quickly & efficiently kill everything in that category within a month. Our apartment is a sad collection of brown leaves.)

I can't wait until we can buy our very own, VERY fur-and-claw-and-bark-and-chew-and-poop-stain-friendly house. Because at this rate, I'll start hoarding mice in our bathtub within the month. And then they'll multiply. And then we'll get evicted, and we'll live under a bridge with 28 mice on leashes. And I need to STOP with this little story because I'm getting all warm-and-fuzzy-excited over the idea of 28 mice on leashes.