May 17, 2010 11:46 pm
There’s a machine at the gym that’s basically like the Thigh Master but in huge, machine form. Although it’s a good workout, it looks totally sexual when you’re sitting there squeezing your legs together in a room full of farty/sweaty people. So I rarely use the stupid thing, even though my thighs could use some mastering. And sometimes it’s hard to walk after a ride on the sex machine. Which sounds equally as dirty.
Jamie is a brilliant problem solver. Just last week, I noticed him vacuuming a pile of crumbs off of the counter instead of wiping them up the old fashioned way. See? Brilliant.
My kids watch Yo Gabba Gabba and love when they show kids on there doing “cool tricks”. So now, both kids go around all day showing me their own versions of cool tricks like: jumping, walking, spinning, somersaults, rolling, breathing, blinking. It’s all just enthralling to watch the first thousand times but after that I wish I could make my cool trick a disappearing act.
I sometimes text myself with reminders for stuff I need to get done. Every time, I forget about the text message and thirty seconds later when the text (to myself) arrives, I get excited that I have a new text on my phone only to get disappointed seconds later when I realize that it was just me texting me. Please tell me I’m not alone.
Modeling is tough. I bought some tip-resistant furniture brackets and noticed that the company basically killed a toddler in order to get a photo of what could happen if you don’t buy their product and secure your furniture:
That poor kid is a goner.
Jamie doesn’t believe me but I recently lost five pounds from one poop. Instead of high fiving me (like any good husband would do), he questioned the validity of our scale. The audacity. Also, I was bragging about stopping up our toilet and he said he’s not impressed because the plumbing sucks in that bathroom. Can’t a sister get any poop support around here?
Graham has figured out which buttons print a test page on our printer and LOVES it. So every time he sneaks into our bedroom, he runs to the printer and proudly prints a (wasteful) test page and presents it for all to see.
My dog wears a bark collar since she’s insane and we like our neighbors. Our property backs up to a busy road and emergency vehicles frequently cause our hound dog to howl. And get shocked. And howl. And get shocked. Over and over this stupid dog does the howl/shock/howl until one of us can grab her and throw her inside out of howl’s way. Is this why hound dogs are crying all the time? Electrocution?
Tags: Random Tuesday Thoughts