9.29.2011

All Burney and Whatnot

I burned my toe with the hair dryer this morning.

This is the first time it has happened and I must say, I am surprised that it hasn't happened sooner. All in all I am clumsy...a little wobbly, kind of like a newborn horse. A calf.

See, I was drying my hair. The hair on my head of course, I don't have hair to dry on my feet. (Thank God.) When I'm done drying my hair and about to flat iron it or curl it or do some other damage to it I just put my hair dryer on the floor...the floor where my feet go so that I can stand, unsuredly.

Just so happens that this time my hair dryer was all super close to my foot and then BAM SIZZLE cooked toe.

It hurt and I was all, "OF COURSE!" Then Joe said I should stop trying to do my hair with my feet.

Har dee har har.

What I'm trying to say is, I am my own worst enemy and apparently the hair dryer is my weapon of choice.

Well, for today anyway.

As I'm reading this it sounds kind of like, "blah blah blah toe blah blah blah stuff". I just shrugged at this sentence. What does this mean? Does it mean I don't care? Of course not. What it means is that I'm hungry and can't find a place that delivers. Ta da! This post is what happens when I'm hungry.

You're welcome.

These guys know what I'm talking about.

9.23.2011

With Statham Like Ability

This is one of those posts where I just show you a text conversation that I've recently had. I'll give you some background to how it all got started, especially since it spiraled out of control so quickly.

Shannon and I were texting trying to coordinate a movie night with our families. Every day that she would suggest would be shot down because Joe had already made plans for us. As you are reading please remember that we are ladies...not men. And....go:

Shannon: That's it. I'm going to have to kill him. I just don't see a way around it. But we have to kill him like Jason Statham would kill somebody. We can't do it regular.

Me: Yep. We need to use the accent as well.

Shannon: I second that. And we have to be awesomely hot while we do it because that's how he would do it.

Me: Yes. We need a motorcycle. Or...a classic car. With changeable plates.

Shannon: And we need muscles and to smell fantastic no matter how much we sweat.

Me: We will sweat pure sex. It will serve as a distraction.

Shannon: And our balls will be shorn by the feathers of angels wings. (This has deteriorated so badly.)

Me: In true Amber/Shannon fashion.

Shannon: And the flexing of our leg muscles will cause tsunami's.

Me: We will carry our own custom made seats that have a cradling section just for our balls...it will of couse be reinforced with the steel of cannons.

Shannon: For our balls are made of steel and require cradling.

Me: That was implied. If not cradled they will bust through any manmade fabric or material.

Shannon: Our balls are kryptonite to mere mortals and the Gods shudder at our laser shooting nipples.

Me: I don't want my nipples to shoot things, you can have that one. Mine cut glass perhaps? That seems useful.

Shannon: I WANT LASER NIPPLES...that do not react to cold.

Me: You can have them, mine are glass cutting diamonds.

Shannon: YES!

Bam. You're dead.

9.21.2011

Potty.

You guys, I completely forgot that I had to train a small human to use the potty. I don't know, I guess it slipped my mind what with being so busy feeding him and dressing him and making sure there isn't some sort of goo in his hair. There's usually goo in his hair...but at least he's fed and partially dressed.

Amazingly he is doing well in the potty training department and he's not even two yet! That's good right? I'm going to go ahead and say yes, that's great.
Well. He's been doing great at going pee in the potty. He doesn't go every time but if we ask him if he needs to go he yells, "YEAH!" and runs to go. Today he went POOP in the potty. Poop. It's a big deal, in case you don't know.
Joe was home when this happened. The poop happened and Joe tells Cooper, "Okay buddy. You stay right here and I'll go grab you a new diaper."

You.
Stay.
Right.
Here.

Take a beat. Really let that soak in. Let the fact that a grown man told a one and a half year old to, "Stay. Right. Here."

Joe is in the other room trying to find the pull up style diapers, he's bent over digging through the diaper drawer when he looks up and there stands pantsless Coop.

Cooper has his hand stretched out and says proudly, "Dadd'n" (That's how he says Daddy.)

What do you do when someone holds there hand out to you? Do you hold your hand out back? Yes.

Of course you do. Even if that other small little hand is full of poop.

Now, you're hand is full of poop.

And you are a parent.

And you are proud, because your kid just pooped in a potty.

Is it poop or is it chocolate?

9.11.2011

Well hi there. Haven't missed me have you?

Here's a run down of what's been going on that I've been leaving you all in the dark about:
  1. I quit my job.
  2. I gained a million pounds.
  3. I'm managing a store that my mom, step-dad and their friends opened...are opening. We open on Friday. Fuck.
  4. My face is a zit field.
  5. I joined a gym yesterday.
  6. I still have an elliptical that I don't use.
  7. My oldest started second grade.
  8. My youngest says lots of words now, including but not limited to "pease", "buggy" and "boogy". (Boogy as in booger...buggy as in bug.)
  9. I got new glasses. 
  10. Your mom.
Okay, those last two I just threw in there so it would be an even number. Whatevs.

Opening a brand new from scratch business is haaaaard. It makes me whiny and tired. It also makes me use a lot more cuss words in daily conversation with my momma. Then we laugh. Then she calls me an asshole. Then we laugh again. Then she asks if I'm done with the ad design for the paper. Then I cry...

I just remember that it's due tomorrow...shit.

Oh! That's all I have to do?
Sure it is...