I need a haircut, and an eyebrow wax. For a while I was getting both done on a regular basis. I’m glad to grow my hair out to donate, but I would really love to feel pampered every once in a while. We keep moving and I haven’t taken the time to find someone to trust to do my hair. Both times I got it cut to donate I didn’t like the person very much. My eyebrows haven’t been done since 2007, and that’s a crime against humanity. I feel a bit like an overgrown sheepdog. I tweeze them enough so that they don’t grow together, but they really need a better look than that. Auto correct? Tweeze is a word. Argh. So is argh.
Speaking of which, have you looked at damnyouautocorrect . com? Go ahead and indulge yourself for 5 minutes. If you’re not laughing, you have NO sense of humor. Basically it’s a site where people post their ‘funny’ phone mistakes. You know, where the ‘smart’ phones auto correct what they THINK you want to say instead of what you actually want to say, so you’re retyping it 12 times to get it right? Well, some people don’t actually look at what they type before they send it, so it says really improbable and inappropriate things, and the other person writes back (usually saying, WHAT?!?) and the other person is embarrassed, saying, ‘stupid phone, I meant to say ‘this’ instead’. My friend Kellie posted one she’s read the other day that suggested that someone sing the ‘moaning bimbo’ lullaby to their kid (supposed to be mocking bird).. Try singing that out loud to yourself — daddy’s going to buy you a moaning bimbo… see what I mean?
I actually have laughed out loud to this site. Almost as much as the Bloggess post about a thrift store monkey — go ahead, and if you don’t find it funny, I have nothing more to say to you. I’m not sure why I don’t laugh out loud much, and I don’t know when it started, but it’s noticeable, because when I do laugh, it’s really an odd ‘I’ve been here before but not in a long time’ kind of feeling– I wonder if it started when I first got on the pill– I know it threw my hormones for a loop and I was a cranky person until they got changed. Right then was when I got married, too. I do laugh with my husband, though, sometimes he really gets me and we cackle like proverbial witches (not real witches, because, I don’t know any)– that’s also when Sept. 11th happened, and when I really started taking on responsibility — bills, paychecks, groceries. When all of my close friends went separate ways. The onset of adult hood. Trust me, I’m still like a little kid sometimes, but my LOL’ing days are few and far between, and that’s sad. Most of the time, if I find something funny, all I do is smile. So I ‘get’ that stuff is funny, but it doesn’t really make me go to the ‘laughter’ level. Is that weird? Is there a pill for that?
On a happier note, I went to the doctor yesterday. I was pronounced ‘fit for duty’ — which means my husband will quit half way molesting me and go for the whole thing any day now. I had a LOT of stitches, so that concerned me, but the doc says I’m fine. That also means I can have a real playdate with Keeley, going down her slide, running, etc. I can also start exercising. This worries me, too, because after Keeley was born, I tried doing a bunch of sit ups and herniated, which led to another surgery. My doctor doesn’t think that will happen again, but I think I’ll avoid sit ups for a while, anyway. It also means I got weighed (on an actual scale and not a broken-arse one like we’ve got) — and bless her heart, the aide tried to not slide the 50 bar over, but I told her to go ahead, she was rooting for me, but their scale said 158. That’s lower than anytime in recent memory. My scale always says 5 lbs lower than theirs, and it’s been bouncing between 151-153 for a few weeks, so that’s about on par. Yup, that’s my real weight. My size 8 pants fit. I donated all my size 6’s, thinking I’d never get back into them (and let’s face it, they were ragged on the bottoms), but I don’t think they would fit anyway. I’m not overly concerned about weight, but the droopy belly has got to go. It looks terrible, I’m fine with being chubby, but the droop is awful to look at! On the other hand, I’m in freaking single digits. Also the aide at the doctor’s office is larger than me, and I wonder if she thinks I’m a crack addict for being worried about weighing more than 150? I resolve to keep my mouth shut from now on, although it WOULD be awesome if in January, they didn’t have to slide the little ’50’ bar over. Maybe that’s somewhere to aim.
Speaking of aiming, I aim to have the house a little bit cleaner after this weekend. It’s a mess. Mostly the kitchen. Papers are stacked up everywhere. My desk is a mess, too. It’s because I never get the chance to sit down there. Right now? I’m in bed, close to Brennan, so if she wakes up, I can get to her before Keeley wakes up, too. I could also have had about 4 showers by now, but I don’t want to take the chance of them both being up and unhappy. I digress. It’s hard to get things done with a newborn. Period. My goal, though is to have Keeley in front of the tv (shameful, I know), and take turns with Matt carrying Brennan around when she’s awake and just tackle one freaking room at a time. I know after this week, he’s going to want to just veg (we’ve had doctor’s appointments or something else all week), but lazing around is what got us to the mess in the first place. I’ve cleaned the counter off twice since she was born and it just piles back up. I have no idea what’s even there, but it must be tackled. It must. Sunday we’re visiting family, so Friday and Saturday are the days. I’m going to work on getting other stuff done before then (like I don’t already, but you know what I mean) — and just hope that my hubby goes along with it. He did promise that since I let him sleep through the night a few weeks ago, that he’d help with the housework if I made a list. It takes more time to make a list than just grab stuff and do it, and he’s had several nights of sleeping since then, so I hope he’s up for the challenge.
Now that you’ve had a look inside my brain for the week, please relish in your own sanity, comment below on shared insanity, or just have a nice day!
I love DAMN YOU AUTOCORRECT! It makes me laugh until I am wiping tears. Jenny does that to me too – Beyonce and the Homicidal Monkey posts both had me weak with laughter! I actually looked for a little Beyonce at Hobby Lobby yesterday. No one but me in my immediate circle would get it, but for those in the know…
Good luck getting things done. I’m 100% and STILL can’t seem to get my house clean all at once!