About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Random Tuesday Thoughts
In 17 days, this blog will be two years old. I’ve written 400 posts. If I spent an hour on each post, that’s 400 hours that I’ve devoted to blogging, or 2.3 weeks. That doesn’t make me feel so bad about blogging. I mean really, what’s two weeks?
Chuck and I spent two weeks on our honeymoon. We went to Italy, rented a car and hit the road. No reservations, nothing. This is one of my favorite pictures:
We were in Genova. Chuck befriended a man, who invited us over to his place. He let us take pictures from the roof of his apartment. We stayed for espresso, and the man said he could read people's fortunes in coffee grinds. He told me my mother is high maintenance. Shocker. Still, I'll take that over hearing that I'm Amish and there's a dead sea caption drinking in my dining room.
This is after a lot of grappa:
One of my coworkers has purple-gray hands. We’ve been calling him Cadaver Hands. Sometimes when I’m tempted to snack at my desk, I imagine Cadaver Hands passing me a potato chip. It’s really quite effective.
Wow, man, 400 hours. If I’d used that time differently, I could have lost five pounds. Or given my notice.
What if aliens occasionally land on Earth to see how the human race is progressing? What if they keep landing in really unfortunate places? Like Paris Hilton’s house. Or the house of the Jersey Shore beef patties.
I can just see the aliens' memo to the Supreme Leader: "Cockroach still most intelligent form of life. Will try again in 3010.”
I know Paris Hilton is an easy target, but she still turns my stomach. I believe that people with wealth and power should do their part to better society. I bet if she sold her handbag collection, she could feed a small country with the profits. Maybe she needs a philanthropic advisor. If she gave me a million dollars to play with, I'd start a foundation that would enable mothers with shitty maternity leave to spend an entire year at home with their baby (assuming they wanted to). I would call it the Paris Isn’t a Total Selfish Douche Foundation. Thoughts?
I still haven’t stuffed anything. Because I've been blogging. Duh.
For more randomness, go see the Un Mom. She's blogged 400 hours today alone.