No Thanks

Coop had a terrible stomach bug this past winter - it seemed to last forever. He would only get sick at night, he would wake up puking and then sleep the rest of the night on the bathroom floor.

I have to get my couch professionally cleaned because one night we both fell asleep on the couch - I thought ahead and placed towels on the floor and a trash can in the center of the towels, there was no way I was going to have to scrub puke for the 5th night in a row. Sure enough he woke up heaving and I flung him the direction of the trash can and as I turned around to grab a handtowel from the ottoman, he turned around too - to face the couch, you know, instead of the trashcan. BLAMMO puke everywhere that there wasn't a towel.

Long story short - puke.

After he was better and I was done cleaning up puke and shit from every surface of my house I decided I could go back to the gym and put him in the childcare there. My workout partner Erin is hardcore bad ass and she apparently has a super secret hate on me because she killed me. A couple of times. There's photographic proof.

After she was done using my corpse as a sweat towel I set my sights on the door because on the other side of that door was cold air that was going to revive me and also keep me from puking. I picked up Coop and headed home. As I pulled into the driveway I took a moment to evaluate myself and really think about my options - puke here in the driveway so it can freeze and I can basically walk on puke for the next month or try and make it to the bathroom indoors. I tell you - it was a tough one but I decided on heading inside.

I carried Cooper in and I said to him - "Coop, I'm going to puke on you."

To which he responded, "No thanks."

He then pushed my face away from his direction and said, "Look over there."

Literally - he pushed my face away from his general direction so that I wouldn't get puke on him...smart kid.

UPDATE: I took this child to a pediatric gastroenteroligist...what? I'm told he has "CVS, cyclic vomiting syndrome". WOW, that sounds serious doc, what is that? She says to me...with a straight face..."oh, random vomiting". I said, "No thanks."

A Feral Angelo - a made up story.

My favorite (only) brother Morgan and his boyfriend, Angelo, came to visit recently. It was only the best time of my life because they are my favorites.

One of Morgan and my favorite past times is to make up stories about people - we can go on for hours about the group of people sitting at the restaurant all wearing the same type of shirt. They are clearly a cult. Clearly.

While they were here we did a lot of stuff and mainly drove my car everywhere. At one point Angelo attempted to get into someone else's car assuming it was mine. Well...

Me: What if Angelo had gotten into that car and stayed there...not knowing it wasn't my car?

Morgan: Yes. He fell asleep in the back because he was so tired from all of our activities.

Me: Yep. He falls asleep waiting for us and wakes up in a dark garage.

Morgan: Because the car owners didn't see him back there - sleeping away.

Me: Of course. He's all snuggled up. He wakes up and it's dark and he's all 'Whaaaa? Where am I?"

Morgan: He doesn't have his phone because he left it here, in your actual car - so he can't call for help.

Me: Of course not. He gets out of the car and goes to knock on the door into the house and the people answer...and they're naked. They're nudists.

Morgan: God, yes, of course they are. Nudists. Just naked. They invite him in and are super friendly.

Me: They won't let him use the phone - they don't have electricity...they have, like, burn barrels IN the house.

Morgan: And no wifi. Uuuuuughh. They want him to join their nudist colony in this weird house.

Me: They walk on all fours...not even like, hands and knees.

Morgan: Feet and hands.

Me: Finally he gives in...what's that called...?

Morgan: Stockholm syndrome. He gets naked and he's living in their world. Burn barrels...

Me: No wifi...no electricity...

Morgan: Monsters.

Me: He can't escape even if he wanted to - their are bars on the INSIDE of the windows and doors.

Morgan: We find him and we knock on the door...and he's all 'Guys, I live here.'

Me: And we're all, "It's been 45 minutes...."

Morgan: Right?!

Angelo: What are you guys talking about...?

Here we are making up a story about you right now...

It's basically the funniest thing you've ever heard.

Cinema - Spoilers contained within. You've been notified.

It's been awhile since I've shared my thoughts on movies that I've watched. Let's do that today!

Playing For Keeps

This movie is about a soccer player (Gerard Butler) who...I don't know....doesn't play soccer anymore? Moves to be closer to his son, begins coaching his sons soccer team because the current coach has a condition that requires his phone to be attached to his ear constantly also he's fat and sucks at being a kids soccer team coach. Then stuff happens...and it was annoying.

From the moment the movie starts you know exactly what's going to happen - which I hate. Within 15 minutes I was able to spout off each direction the movie was going to go and who was going to sleep with Gerard Butler's character...who could blame them though - amiright?!

The only reason to watch this movie is to see the star of the show - Gerard Butler's hair. It's glorious and amazing and luscious and beautiful. If you don't care about his hair, then don't watch this movie. It's lame. The End.

 

Olympus Has Fallen

 

This one is basically a combination of Air Force One...but on the ground and Die Hard all wrapped up in a neat, bloody package and I loved it. It was pretty easy to guess who the bad guys were going to be but I didn't mind that too much - it wasn't a secret for long. Gerard Butler (are you noticing a theme here...?) plays a Secret Service Agent and then an Ex-Secret Service Agent who super, really bad wants to be Secret Service Agent again. Blah, blah, blah - people storm The White House, hilarity ensues, blood, knives, guns...lots of guns, tunnels, Navy Seals, Morgan Freeman.

There was a scene that I swear they took directly from Die Hard. I even said it out loud in the theater. "This is Die Hard."

I'm not going into much detail here - I'll just say it was a good movie, I'd watch it again. It really makes you want to save the world, y'know? Afterwards you sit back and think - I could totally do that. Then you look down at the popcorn that has fallen at your feet and the nacho cheese that you accidentally wiped on your pants and you think again. Boy, do you think again.

Get it? Because they're falling.

 

 

 

Nothing.

Know what I like to do?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing is the correct answer. It's my favorite thing to do actually...nothing. It doesn't require a shower. It doesn't require pants that aren't stretchy or mascara.

Nothing, of course, can mean a vast many things. "Nothing" is definitely subjective. My nothing and your nothing could be completely different - in fact, my nothing varies day by day. Today my nothing could be watching tv all day long, tomorrow my nothing could be playing Mass Effect...yesterday it was drinking wine and reading literature gossip magazines.

I feel like I crammed a lot of "stuff" into my late teens/early twenties. I snowmachined, flyfished, camped, hiked small mountains, etc. And now...I just don't wanna. I still like those things, I just don't want to do them. I want to do other stuff - like, nothing. Is that so bad? Is it weird? I guess I don't really care.

This blog post is lame - and it's probably because it's the end of March and I'm freezing and tired of the cold weather. So, there.

Someone call the waaaah-mbulance.

Go ahead, I'm not going to do it myself - I'm busy doing nothing.

Tunes Tuesday...

I have to make a bit of a drive every day to and from town, I enjoy it because I get to be alone and listen to music. Two of my very favorite things.

I sometimes even have to giggle at the absurdity of my daily playlist - Lana Del Rey, Lonely Island, Trey Songz, Blake Shelton...the list only gets more ridiculous.

Here are two more songs that are in my rotation.

 

Huge glow stick? Want.

 

 

 

"I just want to feel some sunshine."

This is my winter anthem.

 

 

Speaking of winter...please go away - I'm cold. Even though it's in the upper 30s...ugh, I'm still freezing. My body turned in its notice, it said, "I'm not keeping you warm anymore, I'm tired. Figure smoething out on your own."

 

So courteous.



Tunes Tuesday

I think everyone is fully aware of my eclectic musical tastes. I listen to damn near anything. I discovered this song a few weeks ago through my Starbucks app - it was a free download. If you don't have the Starbucks app - get it, there's a new free song download every week. It's not always something I'm in love with but it gets new music in my earholes, and I always appreciate that.

Back to this song - it's lovely. The message is nice, I like the arrangement, I like it all. It's one of those songs that takes a stance on a popular subject but even if you're not into that kind of thing I think you could still appreciate the music. The video is also grand - I love a good story and this one plays out nicely.

So, enjoy. Or don't...it's up to you.

 

 

 

AND for a little something different...here's another song that I love - the video is not my favorite but I like the song. It's Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show. They play banjos and I love it.

 

Guys will like it because there's dancing women and some of them have big bewbs. Girls will like it, because I don't know...maybe because of this guys fancy dance move?

(video below that tank top hot mess)

 

 Well...it's not letting load the picture of the guy in the tank top doing a dance...so just keep an eye out for it - you can't miss it...but in case you are worried about missing it, it's at 3:14 and it only lasts a few seconds but it will be the best few seconds of your day.

 

 

Thought Processes of an Amber

Everyone has different ways of living their lives. Different reasons for doing things, different methods...different thought processes. I never really think about it but I realized that maybe mine are kind of...different? Or maybe they're the same as yours.

For instance - I have a pretty standard uniform everyday - jeans, black shirt or sweater...or jeans, sweatshirt, or cigarette pants and a top...or whatever the hell. This is my thought as I get dressed:

"When I get home tonight can I also sleep in this shirt?"

The answer is typically and almost always yes - if not the outer shirt, at the very least I can sleep in the shirt that's underneath it. BAM - convenience.

SOMETIMES the shirt you see me in is the same shirt I slept in. MOST DAYS the pants you see me in are the same pants I wore yesterday. EVERYDAY you see me, I'm adorable - so does it really matter?

My thoughts on showering -

AM Showering:

"Do I have time to dry and fix my hair? No - then no shower. I'll put it in a bun."

PM Showering:

"Do I need to dry and fix my hair tonight so that tomorrow is looks presentable? Yes - then no shower. I'll put it in a bun tomorrow."

All girls think like that right there - and if they deny it, they're liars. And their hair is dirty.

My thoughts on waking up early in the morning -

"If I set two alarms I'll have one alarm I can snooze and one that is set for my real needed wake up time and I'll get up to that one - having satisfied my need to hit 'snooze' while still waking up on time."

That's my "thought process". My "actual process"? -

/snooze /snooze - one hour later - "Fffffuuuuuuuu - I'm late."

So...am I so weird? Am I the only one that is planning on wearing the same shirt I'm wearing right now to bed tonight?

Maybe I am, and that's fine by me.



Baby Brother

I have a baby brother - well, he's not really a baby anymore. It's his birthday tomorrow and I thought maybe it would be nice of me to brag on him here for a little bit. I am the thoughtful one after all.

Morgan and I are 5 years apart in age...for a few months, and then we are 6 years apart. Growing up I was very protective of him, even if I was a bully to him - that was my job and no one else's. Most sisters will complain about all the times their brothers were mean to them and all of the terrible and irritating things they would do.

Sure, I remember that stuff. I remember the phase he went through where he was scared of the wind and anytime we were going somewhere and it was windy he would freak out and make life as difficult as possible. I remember the time he pulled my pants down in front of a gas station...ugh.

What I really remember are the times when I was mean to him, I still hate to think about it. One time I slapped him in the face - he pretty much deserved it, but that doesn't matter. I would leave him out, I would lock him out, I would tease him - all of these things are normal big sister/little brother things and are what made us who we are today but I just want to say, "Sorry Morgie Porgie, sorry for being a jerk to you when you where little."

Don't get me wrong - we had fantastic times together also! You know, stuff. We washed a cat once, that was fun. We ran over a tricycle with a golf cart one time.

I'm not sure when it happened...but we became friends. We can hold an entire conversation using television/movie quotes, or just using grunts and yawns. And we do this sometimes 5 times per day. I am so blessed to have a friend/brother in my life with as much determination, drive, positivity, and just overall greatness as he has. He is my biggest inspiration and the bravest person that I know. I love him with my entire heart.

Ugh - that was so mushy gushy. Back to being regular.

Our favorite thing to do, of course, is make momma crazy. The easiest and most fun way to do that is when taking pictures. When we were kids and getting our pictures taken she would be constantly telling him to smile, and I - being concerned that he wasn't smiling - would look at him to make sure he was smiling and then she would yell at me to look at the camera. We do this to this day. We literally did this just a couple of days ago. It drivers her absolutely bonkers and we just have the best time with it.

Here's us...she had just yelled at him to smile and then immediately yelled at me to look at the camera - as you can see, we just can't seem to get our lives together.

Here we are as kids - though we still feel like kids now - you can bet money that not 10 seconds before this picture was taken I had my face over his shoulder to make sure he was smiling.

And here we are now...we look spooky here, but I like the picture. Deal with it.

Happy Birthday Morgie Porgie!

Shannon Post

My friend Shannon is hilarious - well, I think she is. We have more fun texting than anyone should legally have. I know I've posted here before one of our texting conversations - here it is.

I think I may end up making a page just for my conversations with Shannon...here's the one we had last night.

Pivoting is overrated.

Good morning...never.

If you know me personally you know how much I loathe the morning time...well, not the actual "morning", but the act and necessity of having to remove myself from the comforts of the bed. It's just the absolute worst.

I've never in my life been a morning person - with the one exception being Christmas morning, because Christmas is my favorite and I still go to sleep with butterflies in my stomach and wake up with a dumb grin on my face. Because I'm a human with a heart and soul.

Momma is the definition of morning person. She wakes up singing songs and twirling around sprinkling fairy dust on everything or whatever it is you morning people do. Momma had several ways of waking Morgan and I up in the mornings of our childhood, I will outline them here for you to cringe at.

• Open bedroom door - yank open curtains - sing some ridiculous song about morning time and smiles.
• All of the above PLUS tearing the blanket off of our sleeping warm bodies.
• All of the above PLUS sitting on our bed, bouncing up and down and tickling us because she's the devil.

THEN. THEN, she gave up on all of that because Morgan and I are terrible, horrible people and would yell at her and make mean faces and kick her off of our beds. That's when she deployed the most terrible and awful way to be woken up. She would literally annoy us awake. (I know, the things above are pretty annoying - but just you fucking wait.)

Here it is. Here is what she would do. From the second floor - she would yell up to the third floor where our bedrooms resided. She would yell:

Amber. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. AmberMorganMorganAmberAmberMorganAmberMorgan. AmberMorgan.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat forever in the most monotone voice you can think of.

During all of this we are yelling - STOP IT. PLEASE. GOD. STOP. OKAY. OKAY. STOP. WE'RE UP!

We weren't up. We lied. Sometimes we would drag our sleepy bodies to the top of the stairs and yell down FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE EFFING WORLD WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP MAKING NOISES WITH YOUR FACE?! WE LOVE YOU. DON'T GROUND US. ALSO, TOASTER STRUDEL. TWO PACKETS OF ICING BECAUSE ONE PACKET ISN'T ENOUGH.

So, why? Why can't I just BE a morning person? I want to be. I wish I could be cheerful and happy in the morning, I don't want to be hateful and terrible - I just am. Morning are just so hard. They're usually cold. My face is all sleepy. My limbs are sleepy and don't want to work. My brain is all, "No. That dream was good - let's go back to that!". If I wake up to my alarm clock - which I will snooze for approximately an hour - I'm not horrible to anyone. BUT if a person wakes me up, UGH, just, don't.

I've tried several "tricks and tips" to becoming a morning person and they just make me more grumpy and tired. I've given up - I will just remain...whatever the opposite of morning person is. Fantastic? Yes, that must be it.

An ideal world...