Super Secret Trip of Awesome

You know what I had planned last weekend? Nothing. Enter Grace, Holly, Biddy and Super Jules and their  talk of their #SSTOA cluttering up my twitter stream. Being the inquisitive person that I am,  I finally found they had chosen San Diego for a Super Secret Trip of Awesome. Y'all are going to San Diego for the weekend?  Do I want to come hang for the weekend? No. I can't.  Because I had shit (read: work) to do.

BUT. I *can* crash one day of your super secret trip.

Hey there! I crash your party; I sleep on your couch.

But at least I brought Rum. (Bacardi Peach Red). Because what kind of party crasher shows up empty handed?

Stories of the strangest mani/pedi evar can be found here. Ridiculous anthropological (is that even a word?) studies of douchebags are here, and random events here and even here.

W.T.F?!*

What can I possibly add to describe how awesome this super secret trip was? I could talk about how we all piled into a cab like college kids in a phone booth and hid SuperJules AS COPS WATCHED US. Or about how even though SuperJules couldn't have been any more precise, taxi cab drivers do not understand her. It's like she was speaking another language. One nobody understood.

Is that why she was so angry?*

OR even how, after dinner my food started attacking my innards and made me leave the douchetastic outing before my food ejected itself from my stomach, which it was most definitely was going to do before my night was over(damn you, you oversensitive stupid tummy).

Why was this dude trying to put me in a headlock?*

And how cute Biddy was worrying about me going back to the condo solo. OR? About the even more super secret field trip as we got lost on the way to the airport. (You know what's really awesome? Being a Marine's wife and therefore being able to get on ANY BASE IN THE COUNTRY) AND I came home with a bottle of Vodka, and (yo, ho ho) TWO bottles of Rum.

But you know, really? It was just a bunch of girls having some drinks*.

*these photos stolen from Grace and/or Biddy.

An extra kick in the pants

Thursday I decided that I cannot live in my house unless I change my cat litter RIGHT. NOW. So even though I had come straight home and put on my pajama pants, I threw on some tennis shoes and went over to the Target. My cousin, D, who just happened to be at my house and needed weights for some boot camp program she was starting on Monday decided to ride shotgun.

Since I had decided that the only thing I was picking up from the Target was kitty litter, I didn't even grab a cart. We ran by the workout section grabbed some 3 lb weights and walked over to the pet section. We find a 35 lb bucket of cat litter on sale. And we attempt to carry it to the register.* Holy shit, y'all that's heavy. First, we both hold the handle and try to drag it to the register. We get pretty far until we have to put it down because we can't laugh hysterically AND carry almost 40 pounds because I can't even believe how ri-damn-diculous it is that cat litter is so fucking heavy and I'm not sure how well THIS plan was thought out and where the fuck is that random empty cart that has been abandoned by some jackass when you really need one as opposed to when it's just in your way screwing up your shopping experience?

Holy Crap, this is heavy.

In the end, D just dragged the cat litter to the register and we snagged an empty cart while we were in line because there was no way we were gonna carry that shit to the car.

And as we were wrestling it in the car, I said *this* is about how much weight I want to lose.(30 pounds all told. But still) OMFG is THIS what thirty pounds feels like ON MY BODY?! Aaand...cue the screaming on the inside.

So even though I've been hitting the gym AND bringing my mostly healthy lunch, I am taking the time to thank Tidy Cats Cat Litter for reminding me why I am doing all of this: Because 30ish pounds is heavier than a motherfucker and picturing that on my ass has given me MORE motivation that I ever needed to get rid of it.


*Also, I would like to pat myself on the back for entering Target and *only* getting the thing that I came in there for, even though they've got bathing suits and the first season of Glee and BOOKS! All kinds of books! Because that is probably the first time I've done that in years.

Miscellaneous Meanderings

I'd like to say that I've been busy. But really? I haven't. I just haven't been blogging. Oh, hello...I'm lazy. I guess, to be fair, The Man spent all of last week in the hospital, so I was alternately quietly freaking out, hanging out in his hospital room, working Luckily...I work at a hospital. So I would take my "15 minute break" (that was really closer to 30 but who's counting because a) my boss doesn't pay me too much attention and b) I wish somebody WOULD act like they don't understand me spending my free -and some not so free- time with my husband) in his hospital room.

I had plenty of time to blog especially since I was just sitting there staring at him sleep. But really I was just sitting there thinking. Of what, you wonder? Funny you should ask.

I was thinking that I need to hide my SIL's status update on FaceBook. I mean, seriously? Your status update says that Tears are nothing but LIQUID prayers...I am clearly not deep enough appreciate that. And your updates are more depressing than they are uplifting, if that is in fact what you're going for. Either way, I can't take it and I think I just need to make sure I can no longer see your depressing ass I AM GOING THROUGH A THANG-type status updates.

And since it wouldn't be in my best interest to unfriend "in-laws" who I added in a moment of panic because how do you say no to a perfect stranger who is related to me by marriage? Even though they know they don't know me because THEY live in Florida and have never been to California, but a) I have the same last name and b) I'm a friend of a relative that you *DO* know so you sent a friend request...I'm hiding you too. Because I don't know you. Or your status updates are super annoying and/or hypocritical. Please don't preach to me in one status update and cuss out somebody in the next one. Just...stop.
Speaking of cleaning house...I cleaned my house. And now my hands are peeling so bad that I ...well, I can't think of anything gross enough to describe what they look like except shedding snakes and I like to think that I'm LOSING weight and not gaining so much that I had to grow out of my skin... So let's just say that I'm taking this as a sign I should stop cleaning.

Related to absolutely nothing in the post, but still on my mind...is this cake. My girl friend went to a baby shower where they served this cake:

Pretty right? I mean, I'll admit it took serious skill to create this masterpiece...but uhh.. there's no way I'd be able to eat that cake without being grossed out. Yeah, yeah... I know it's just cake. But it immediately made me think of that Hunter's Souffle on True Blood.. 'Member? (Because I'm just going to ASSUME that you all were watching True Blood, because WHO is not watching True Blood) No, you don't 'member?

Yes. I know that I'm crazy. Still, though. I advised her to pass on the cake.

Okay, that's all I got. So, ummm... please enjoy. But stay away from the baby cakes.