Someone started a new blog.
I'm not linking between them for now, but if you want to know where to find it, email me and I'll give you the address.
You guys are the best.
The life and times of a girl named Swishy.
Someone started a new blog.
You guys, it's been so long since I've done this that the whole TEMPLATE has changed! I AM THE WORST!
So I'm sitting in this coffee shop. There's a guy to my left: button-down shirt, slacks, bent over a calculator, scribbling numbers on a sheet of looseleaf paper. On my right, the poster girl for hipsters: big glasses, skinny braid-as-headband, hemp purse and, of course, the requisite coffee and iPhone. Based purely on appearance, the only thing these two people appear to have in common is the fact that they're currently sharing air at the same place.
I don't even know if anyone comes here anymore, but just in case: I suck. I mean, REALLY suck. I always swore I would never be one of those people who just disappeared and then I did. I didn't REALLY disappear, though, I swear. I just sort of went on ... hiatus.
I am not really dead. If I ever DO die, my friend Allee has strict instructions to post the details of my demise. So ... see? I do care! Even though my poor little blog totally has grounds to file for divorce and take the kids away by reason of abandonment these days.
I cannot believe I've had a post about urinals at the top of my blog for so long. I mean ... URINALS. Things I've been doing lately that have nothing to do with urinals:
So you know that show The Marriage Ref? It's a very polarizing show among my friends--some people like it, some people hate it--but what we can all agree on is that it's much better to watch with a group of people. The other night, we flip it on during a couple of minutes of downtime at work and we're presented with the hot topic to end all hot topics: Should a man be allowed to put a urinal in the house?
So. I'm at work, and as I often do at work, I get up to go to the bathroom. I walk out of the stall, look myself over in the mirror as I wash my hands and ... ohhhhhh, no. No, no, no, no, no, HELL TO THE NO.
OK. It's a little after 9 pm and we've made it through the red carpet, the opening monologue and the first half hour of awards. Let's pick it up from here, shall we?
I went ice skating.
So I've been working a lot lately. I actually had a Valentine's post half-written, but then ... yup, had to work, never finished it. Is there anything LESS interesting than someone telling you how much they've been working lately? Let me answer that for you: Hell freaking no, there is nothing in the world remotely less interesting. Put A plus B together ... what does that equal? Me, basically the most boring person you know right now.
So we're sitting around at work the other day in a little bit of unnatural silence. Everyone's kind of pissy, and it's awkward, and if there's anything I can't stand it's unnatural, awkward, pissy silence. So of course I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head: "I'm making engagement chicken tomorrow."
Oh, time, you have not been a friend of mine lately. In fact, you have been my vicious, bitter arch nemesis, and yes, I know I waste you a lot and don't appreciate you the way I should, but really? Is this any way to act? Let's make up. Please. I have like a zillion shows to watch on the DVR, I NEED YOU!
So I'm going out of town for a couple of days. I get on the plane and head for a window seat in an empty row on the right (as usual), and am immediately joined by a Louis Vuitton-toting mom and her highly energetic young son. This is sort of the reason I log on to Southwest.com the day before and refresh the page like a maniac to get an "A" pass, to avoid these types of situations, but you know, whatever, I like kids well enough, it could be someone whose underarms smell worse than a bucket full of catfish left to rot in the sun all day, this is definitely a workable situation.
I'm sitting at the coffee shop. I just got here, and there are two guys sitting a few tables away. One is facing me. He’s in his early 20s. He’s wearing a black concert T-shirt (regrettably, I can’t tell which concert) and a necklace with a little white pointy thing hanging down that somewhat resembles a fang. His friend appears to be a nice person, but is clearly the “dork” in this friendship while the necklace-wearer is the “cool” one.
I came across the greatest article the other day (and not just because it's from a London paper and therefore uses the cutest British lingo ever). It's a list of the top 50 greatest little pleasures in life. In the top 10 are things like finding money in your pocket, getting into a bed with freshly washed sheets, laughing so hard you cry and catching up with an old friend. No. 1: Getting a good night's sleep (so boring but so true!).
Happy New Year, everyone! I love New Year's Day. New Year's Eve, I could do without (that and Valentine's: so overhyped), but I love, love, love, with a great, big puffy heart, New Year's Day. I totally get into the resolutions and clean slates of it all. Plus, lots of great marathons on TV, no one expects a single thing out of you because half the world is hung over ... what a great holiday.