Put down the crack pipe...

This morning, I wasted 15 minutes of my time listening to a 25 year old man (a stretch) telling the local DJs here about how he was so distraught over the Adam Lambert AI loss that he had yet to leave his house. Are ya kidding me?? The dude is on the verge of losing his job and he won't go to work. His friends are bringing him What-a-burger and such. But...he is "a good daddy" and lets his dog outside. People like this should not be responsible for an animal...perhaps a tiny succulent...but that could be pushing it. Geez...if anyone I knew started going down that path, there would be multiple slaps on the face, copius amounts of frigid water being dumped on the head, and a general "you can do it" pep talk. Not this encouraging of whiny, woe is me, annoying behavior. Friends of this guy--take note: Drive past the What-a-burger and quit enabling. You are just as bad as him.

That being said...I do have a few instances of insanity & frustration where I don't want to leave the house:

when my Colts choked multiple times this past season and did not make it to the Super Bowl

Tom Brady getting married

No more Harry Potter

No more Twilight

The remake of Clue

Anything regarding Paris Hilton

LC leaving the Hills

The long breaks between seasons of Nip/Tuck

CSI without William Peterson

CSI: Miami b/c of David Caruso---I think he can only talk when he is viewed in profile

I could go on for hours...who doesn't have those little things in their life that REALLY freaking bother them? But does my ass climb into bed in a dark room in a fetal position for days in a row?? Nope. So Adam Lambert dude...whomever you are...get a grip...take a swig of Red Bull...and do us all a favor and grow up.

P.S. I was on Team Lambert too...

To the little old man at Walmart...

I know you were delighted to see myself and LaRae walk up get her package checked in. I know we made your day when you pulled the pink bra out of the plastic bag. I know you were impressed by the funbags that must have filled it. I know you have to give us a tag to complete the return. What I don't get is why you chose to elevate the bra while writing the next Great American Novel on your little pad. Were you showing off to your skinny friend? Were you reminiscing about your glory days of panty raids? Were you thinking on how you were going to recount your great fortune to your cigar smoking, shuffleboard playing buddies back at the home? Were you trying to prove to the younger guy waiting behind us that you could still score some undergarments that didn't look like they needed a military intervention to build? Here is to you, little old man at Walmart, and your affection for LaRae's "brashiere".

Seriously??

This just cracks me up...instructions for an umbrella?? Especially an AUTOMATIC OPEN-CLOSE UMBRELLA. Come on people...if you need guidance on how to open an umbrella, somewhere along the line...your life has gone drastically wrong. Do not pass GO, do not collect your $200, just check yourself into a special little place called Blissful Ignorance Institute and spend the rest of your days wondering why that commercial about "hunger pains/pangs" is so dang funny.

Keep a lid on it, butterscotch!

This Friday is date night. Not for Shane & I...but for us and Abby. No little sister involved, just us three. Dinner and Night at the Museum 2 is planned. Abby is obsessed with the first movie so it should be fun. We have realized that since Hannah has come into the picture, that Abby is not getting the undivided attention she used to and we need to make more of an effort to get her that one on one time. So...we are looking forward to a night of chicken nuggets and Sour Patch Kids for our date night. :)

“Tell your friend a lie. If he keeps it secret, then tell him the truth.”

I want to submit a secret, any secret, to PostSecret. But I am not quite sure what to send in. Part of me wants to send in juicy gossip. Part of me wants to send in a regret. Part of me wants to send in a success. Part of me wants to send in a secret that is not even my secret. But all of me wants it to be a cool secret...one that makes everyone stop and say "whoa". Shallow, yes, I realize that. But I cannot wait each Sunday to get up and see what is posted on there. I don't want my secret to be the one that

disappoints...

A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend. ~Author Unknown

Ok...I am telling myself not to cry.  These two little precious girls are mine, all mine.  I carried them, sacrificed my body for them, lost sleep over them, changed countless diapers for them, blended more veggies than I could imagine for them, sang out of tune for them, made goofy faces in church for them, danced to Abba for them, read the same book over and over for them...And I would do it all again and again.  I love to spend time with them and watch them develop as humans.  They have my heart, my soul, my blue eyes, my silliness, but not my blonde hair.  I want to raise respectful, kind, happy, smart, confident daughters...the gorgeous part was already taken care of.  I want them to realize how wonderful they are and what a gift they are to the world.  

I love you Abigail Jean and Hannah Megan.