ila: my across-state move sucked balls, so i can't even imagine how much mo
Kimberly: Woo, almost a month late! My first car was a '98 Dodge Neon. I got
Lauren: I don't know why but I'm always good at shutting this kind of thing do
Lauren: Yay house! twitter tells me you're still working on it, but even so! (
Last Wednesday I was furiously powering through the television channels and came across Little People, Big World. The family on this show lives in the same area of Oregon that the beau grew up in, which was enough of a connection to make me linger for a bit. In this episode, the parents took a long trip and stopped in Santa Barbara to see one of their oldest sons, who's apparently attending university here. When they arrived at his apartment I had to sit up, rewind, and and pause that shit. Turns out their kid lives one block down the street from us. Hi, child-of-reality-series-family neighbor!
The other week, Beau came home after work with newly-shorn hair and a look of deep concern on his face. "I need you to take a picture of me," he said.
"Listen," I replied. "You're going to need to stop making profiles on dating sites. We're married. It's done. No more fresh ling-ling for your dangle."
"I'm not trying to date anybody, jerk," he said. "I need a photo for my LinkedIn profile."
"Oh, so now you're exclusively dating businesspeople."
"Just. Take. A picture."
Okay.
You guys! Kathleen1, formerly of A Wedding Runs Through It and currently of Mirthmobile -- who seems to be having just as long and exhausting of a week has I have had, I might add -- has posted about my newest, most favorite thing ever: Dean Jackson's anagram builder.
Whenever I see a a "SPEED CHECKED BY RADAR" street sign — which is often — I assume they're talking about Radar from the old T.V. series M*A*S*H.
Almost every morning, I head to the gym. I used to be an afternoon or evening exerciser, but I've found that tormenting myself with intense physical activity first thing in the morning is the only way I can really prepare myself for the full day of job- and chore-related torment that lies ahead.
Going to the gym around the same time each day gives you a full view onto the panorama of human nature. You see, humans are ritualistic creatures of habit, even if some of those habits are questionable at best. You never speak to your fellow gym-goers, and avoid direct eye contact at all costs, but you know them. A little too well, perhaps. For when you see the same strangers over and over again, patterns start to emerge. Broadly-stroked characterizations are made. Creative names are bestowed. What. You don't do this?
In any case, gather 'round, folks, and bear witness to this collection of the finest specimens from my local gym:
