Move over Starbucks, Grumpy Cat is in town, here to de-grump your morning.
Why is that cat so grumpy anyway? He should be blissfully happy after indulging in his very own Grumpuccino.
It’s too much….and it’s hilarious.
I fought the potatoes…and the potatoes won. This little burn wound is about a week old. It looks much more tame than it did initially.
Why do they make the handles on big pots so small and awkward? Why do I think that I’m stealth enough to get away unscathed? And why is everything in the kitchen sharp or scalding hot or ice cream or butter? It’s such a dangerous place to be.
Geeks. Isn’t everyone a geek? About something or another? Yes.
Check out my friend’s page, big sexy geek, where she shares her personal story of geekery and talks about being proud of who you are, inside and out. Woot woot!! She’s new to blogging too, so show her some love!
Who out there is a blogging geek? I might look around the room to assess the situation…and then slowly and timidly raise my hand, reluctantly…finding that I would be the only one with a hand up. Shit.
Am I? Well…I do have a blog. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with it any longer. I can’t say that I stay up all night reading other blogs either.
I am a geek though. Here’s what I like to geek out about:
Writing…not necessarily blogging. There’s things I just can’t share with you, imaginary internet people.
Pearl Jam (duh)
Simplifying my life of material things…trying to…but I do love the things I have!
Striving to be healthy and fit
Home improvement projects
Trying to be a good and fun mom…you see, it’s hard to teach the life lessons while also being fun. It is.
To me, having a rummage sale is strikingly similar to taking a dump.
You get rid of all your unwanted shit…and no one really wants to pay 25 cents for it, but you certainly don’t want to keep it around gathering dust in the nooks and crannies of your house.
So you should just flush it, open a window and light a match…have a rummage sale but keep it to yourself.
Of course there’s one lonely bleeding heart left on my giant bleeding heart shrub. Shrub. Shrubbery. Does the word shrubbery make you think of Monty Python??
Of course there’s one left. Such irony. Such perfect irony. One perfect pink little blossom left. Am I the bleeding heart, you ask?? Does my blood valve chamber leak sticky red liquids??