Things about stuff and things

GodDamn I love my friends.

Seriously.

Melinda, you throw the best partay evar.  I love your home, and the warm that comes with it.  Your friends are loving and kind, and I'm glad to know them.  Thank you for including us in your holiday celebrations!  (See ya Christmas morn?  Gary said something about breakfast...)

Melinda told me tonight that she checks my blog a few times a day to see if I've posted something new.  A few weeks back, Lori told me she "loves" my blog, and reads it regularly.

Can I just say how awesome it is to be at a friend's holiday party and have them tell you about how awesome you are?  In front of other people and everything?!

No, but really.  It's flattering, and humbling, and embarrassing.  I immediately think, "What did I post recently?" and if the answer isn't "something totally awesome I hope everyone will read", I start to freak out a little, even if only in my head.

Wait.  You just told your guests about my blog, and maybe now they'll go check it out.  And there they'll find a lot of pictures and some rant about how I'm not quite over my ex-BFF yet.  Fuck!  Quick!  Write something better!  No pressure!

He he.  Hey.  Hi!  That's why you're reading this shit, yo.  It's the best I've got to offer.

So Melinda has this cousin who's totally hot.  If I was single, I'd be all over that.  But I'm not, and so I'm all, "Hmm...who do I know who's single?"  And he's a cop.  So I love him, but I can't love him too close, because some things I love he hates by law.  Anyhow, he's adorable.  And he needs a girlfriend.  Know anyone?  I'm going to host random chicks for blind dates with him until he's married off to some chick who thinks I'm awesome.

i really think that in the time it took me to compose that paragraph, I got homeboy married off.  I am so fucking good at this matchmaker thing.


Finn stole the last oatmeal cranberry cookie and ate it in the middle of our bed, as if to protest the fact that we were home for 10 minutes before we left again.  Neglect is no excuse for blatant cookie badtouch.  I was going to eat that cookie, motherfucker.  And now I'm hungry!

Asshole/

I really am hungry, though.


I don't know how to describe the weight that falls off my shoulders when I come in from work at the end of the day on a Friday.  I don't have the words to explain to you the happy that courses through my being when I hug Jimi and feel his arms go around me.  I can't tell you in detail about the specific flip flop my heart does when Finnegan rubs his face up against my knee, or when I find he's spent the day curled up with my scarf.


On the Facebook, I said something about hooking up the single ladies I know, and Brother was all "I'm interested in single ladies".  "Who wants to be my sister-in-law?" I said, and I'm still laughing about it.  HAHAHAHA!

Holy crap it's late.  G'night/