Today is slow at work. I think deep down in my subconscious I knew it would be when I woke up. Cause pretty much the worst idea I could think of was putting on heels and nice clothes, so now here I am at work, SERIOUSLY pushing the issue of the "business casual" workplace. Are topsiders business casual? Maybe if you're someones dad, and you work in a yacht store. I'm also wearing a zip up hoodie, which is perhaps better suited to picking apples or raking leaves than it is for my conservatively dressed office. It's got toggle buttons too. I stole it from Callie who is unfortunately in France and can't defend herself from wardrobe theft. Hey, that's what happens when you leave your cute navy hoodie with toggle buttons at home instead of taking it with you to France.
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Today I thought very briefly about starting a blog about a made up life. "Wouldn't that be fun!" I asked myself, and the answer I eventually came up with was, "No, you cannot even make a blog about your own life interesting." So I abandoned this idea. But I was talking at length with a dear friend of mine who has an extremely cute and precocious baby, and it seems like she has a lot more that she could blog about that would make for cute/funny/interesting/relevant entries. In my made up life I would probably have the following attributes, which I have noticed make for great blogging from my extensive and unscientific survey of the blogging community:
- an extremely smart and sassy child
- a waaay more interesting job
- a hybrid SUV
- a polygamous relationship
- lots of money
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Speaking of polyamory (as one tends to do), It's come to my attention that an acquaintance from college who was...ahem...predisposed to such a lifestyle has recently given birth to a baby girl. This got me thinking about what I would do if my mother was polyamorous (SIDE NOTE: I'm assuming amorous is spelled like glamorous. Naturally) like the women in the aforementioned forum. I just hope this girl hasn't named her child Loki Xaiel Sunshine Zeus, joined a commune and started exempting gluten from her diet.
This is how I previously envisioned people who co-breastfeed their children. Now I know better after a great deal of research, and it's possible that the people next door, right on sleepy ole' Indiana Avenue. Their children might be the very same that are selling homemade apple pie on the corner and catching fireflies in the twilight. I'm kidding of course. The kids next door are probably selling crack and catching diseases in the alleyway. And not just at twilight. They're also probably a member of a polyamourous family though, but not in the hippie, free-love, slightly mysterious way. If you know what I mean.
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I had an eventful weekend, thanks for asking. On Friday in the middle of my workday, my grandfather had a (now dubbed) minor heart attack, which left me a blubbering mess at work until five when my
I did acquiesce and allow C to play in his long awaited baseball games on Saturday. That's right, I said baseball gameS. Baseball games which took like eight hours. I mean, I like baseball as much as the next girl, and I especially like it if C is playing and lookin' all cute in his uniform that he designed, and lovingly cradling his new baseball bat (which he polished at least three times pre-game to 'remove ball marks') at the plate. It really is cute. I put up with it for eight hours (with a three hour lunch break) but only because I love him a lot. I even put up with the annoying brats at the baseball diamond that absolutely will not leave Oliver alone. SAMPLE SCRIPT OF ANNOYING BRATS:
Kid1: Hes so cute!
Kid 2: He has a long nose...
Kid 1: ...but his tail is so little!!
Kid 2: Why does he have little feet?
Kid 1: Why can't I walk him?
Kid2: Sit Oliver! Sit!
Kid1: Do you love him?
Kid2: Why is his mouth so big?
....And so on and so fourth until I want to be all "I don't know, why is YOUR mouth so damn big?!" Oliver is a pretty good sport for the most part, but secretly I know he wants to bite their faces off.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my weekend. We eventually got to my parents house, Grandfather was released from the hospital "As right as rain". And then I bought a car. No biggie. It only took looking at about 15 bazillion different cars before I
THINGS I WANT TO DO WHEN I WAKE UP:
1. go back to bed and/or
1.a: win a million bucks
2. snuggle with C
3. win a million bucks (addendum, see 1.a)
4. eat
5. shower
6. take the dog out
7. Actually wake up.
8. walk three miles.
See? Dead last. Plus I pay 60 bucks every damn month for parking and damned if I'm not going to damn near abuse that privilege. Why yes, we do park free for every single Cardinals game.
Anyway, the car. The car!! The dealer says it's a "light bamboo", the website says "light tundra" and mazda says "light cypress". Draw your
own conclusions:Heres a sunroof so I can soak up as much sunshine as possible since I spend most of all day locked away.
This is the big picture.
Yep, it's got buttons too. Thanks for this picture, car dealer.
A close up of the paint job so everyone can make an informed decision about the true color.
The dash board. In "deep slate".
Cup holders and such, but check out those mental hospital/nursing home grade rubber mats. Hoseable!
The storage area. Obviously I need maximum area for clutter. KIDDING! Maybe.
Additionally, check out the website for the dealership where we got it.
The Car
Make sure your sound is turned up for the porn quality music that goes with it.
"Hey baby, you wanna come over to my place, check out my 1997 lexus? Do the numbers? Yeah, you know what I mean. "
The only thing left to do is name her. I'm pretty sure it's a her. Boy cars arent "tundra", "cypress", or "bamboo".
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