I love Lifetime movies more than anyone you know. I promise. There are some I would never ever watch (the ones with old people) but there are more that I treasure saved on my dvr than I care to admit and that I will torture Andy to find somehow online once we move in together. One aired recently was up in my top 5- Gracies Choice. Starring a young Kristen Bell
If she were in my living room, Eric would try to hump her leg.
and a decently written story, it's one of the very few I've been able to find on dvd. But since it was on, I recorded it. And of course remembered why I hate this movie for it's opening scene where a beaut of a German Shepherd (top 5 breeds of dogs) gets left behind and desperately runs after the family car.
It's very important to be sure that you've got working smoke detectors throughout your house. I am VERY sure I have a working smoke detector in my kitchen since it goes off nearly every time I turn on the oven. There's no visible smoke, the thing is clear across my vaulted ceiling kitchen but it's beeping like crazy.
Severe weather advisories, blizzard warnings, whiteout emergencies... these are phrases I could do without hearing for awhile.
It's been a rough winter here in A2, and having lived in Michigan my entire life I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of when the winter let us off easy or decided to bitch slap us in the face.
This isn't my car but it's the general scene around these parts right now. I noticed Rudy (my car) making a weird noise at stop lights today, likely because things on the undercarriage of a little Geo Prism tend to adjust themselves when scraped against a foot and a half of ice and snow. For this I can thank the plow man who thinks the snow in our street belongs in my driveway.
In theory, breakfast sandwiches that you keep in your freezer to heat up whenever you'd like is a fantastic idea. In reality, the frozen breakfast sandwich is an evil little meal that defies all laws and is somehow molten lava temperature on the outside and frozen in the middle (like the two that I had while up north this weekend). At times, they come out hard as a rock (like the one I'm attempting to eat now). I'm buying English muffins/croissants and eggs from now on.
So I have two posts for this blog written out completely in my head, but since I've spent my time recently watching bad reality television instead of completing two craft projects that need to turn into baby shower presents by Saturday, I just cannot spend the time to type them out. I'm sorry. Bad blogger. I promise I'll post on Sunday. Oh, wait, season finale of Survivor and Miss USA pageant are on Sunday. Monday? I always tell my students that the key to a good blog is regular updates.... I fail. Anyways, here's a pic of my least favorite Survivor ever and if he wins on Sunday I'll jump off the roof.
I'll try not to repeat myself too much as I'm sure that most people who are going to read Things Hated are also going to read Things Loved (although based on the past, Things Hated is much better) and I posted earlier over there about my tentative return to blogging. While I hope that some of my friends/stalkers will actually read the blogs, my return is based on the idea that blogging will bring about some sort of cathartic relief that I need from the cloud of anxiety that looms over me. Take, for example, what just happened.
I'm sitting on my couch watching The September Issue (I'm 23 minutes in and know you'll be reading about it on Things Loved soon) and I hear my screen door open. A quick glance out the window (no familiar car out front) and the lack of keys jangling tells me it's not a surprise visit from Andy or Brad returning home early from work. My heart starts beating faster. I hold my breath. I hear a knock at the door. My heart is in my throat and I feel like throwing up. I think about ignoring it, but it's fairly obvious by the lights and the tv that someone is home. I get up. My legs feel like jello. I walk to the door and see a young man holding a clipboard. I consider that stabbing myself in the chest is an alternative to opening the door. I open the door. He launches into a campaign about saving the great lakes and eventually pauses enough for me to tell him that I have no money. He's very nice about it, I manage to wish him luck, and he leaves. I collapse back onto the couch, shaking and short of breath. That was about 5 minutes ago and I'm still slightly shaking. I've not eaten much today and know that this terrifying event will prevent me from doing so for the rest of the night. I logically know how ridiculous this is, but that's anxiety disorder for you. Unfortunately the only thing that I've found that helps my situation is (somewhat) illegal and expensive.
So that's kinda why I'm blogging again. I'm hoping it helps to write it down. This is a picture of Gypsy, Brad's cat. I don't currently HATE her, but Chonga does. You can't see it in my crappy cell phone picture but she's got a nasty scratch on her nose to prove it. I do my best to be nice to her but sometimes it's hard. She's kinda a bitch.
It has been a long time since I've updated the blogs... and I don't think that I will anytime in the near future. Blame MySpace, I get my internet activity needs there now. I've thought about just shutting down the blogs, but I think I'm gonna leave them up for archive purposes (feel free to browse through if you like) and also, if I ever decide to blog again, I'd like to keep the addresses that I have.
So, farewell world, if you're a friend, check out the MySpace blog. Peace.
While I've never been a huge fan of That 70's show, it's always been one of those things that I'll randomly catch when I feel the need to be a couch potato and nothing else is on. Sometimes it's pretty funny. Since I always see it on UPN or something, I hadn't seen a new episode in a long time until the other day.
Can you say Jumped the Shark like a thousand times over? Eric and Kelso are very oddly no longer even on the show (yeah, apparently Ashton Kutcher has made the big time but what, tell me, is Topher Grace doing that beats his debut sitcom?), even though all the kids still hang out at Eric's house. Steven is married, and there is some weird new guy chilling with the gang.