Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs


Am I the only one who still has to use alligator mouth hand when trying to remember which way the symbol should point for less than and greater than? And I use both symbols at least once a week.

I have to go gator every.damn.time.

The gator says, “Yum, yum, yum. I’m a hungry reptile. Only BIG numbers can fill me up. That or the flesh of an unsuspecting golfer.”

Ramble On

*If it’s 3:00 in the morning, and you’re watching “Juvies” on MTV, it’s probably okay to go ahead and go into work.

* If this kid thinks her dog is talking to her, she’s smoking more than weed.

*At a certain point in the day, the office kitchen starts to smell like cat food.

* Heating up broccoli doesn’t help the cat food smell. Or having smoked salmon on cream cheese crackers. Or drinking pomegranate and blueberry tea. I have to be very sneaky so the co-workers don’t catch on that I am responsible for 75% of the cat food smell.

* The pills I’m taking to try to relax my twisty colon have dazed and confused my bladder. It’s functioning like a tap with no water pressure. Resulting in the 5 minute long Austin Powers pee, EVERY TIME.

* If you are going to let little pooters slip, remain in your stall until I have washed my hands and exited the bathroom. Don’t make things all weird by coming out and washing your hands, too. We both know I heard you. And that is fine. As long as you remain anonymous.

* I think my 5th grade teacher was perpetually sleep deprived because I can’t help but notice how much I sound like her every time I open my mouth today. I just launched a fifteen minute diatribe just to tell someone I agreed with them. I agreed like this. And like that. And like this. And, uh…I need sleep.

You’re a big blog now

Three years old. But you’ll always be my baby. My ugly, cuddly, walks into walls, makes the most adorable sounds, throws up too much, perfect baby.

You always climb into my arms when I need you. You let me tell you the story of how you were born, from pain and necessity, and how you have developed into one of the greatest joys in my life, even if I don’t always show it. Sometimes I leave you alone for too long. And you are good enough to be waiting for me when I return, without even having called bloggy protective services. We’ve had fun having play dates with other blogs. We’ve laughed. And cried. We’ve been pissed. And thrilled. Life has been bad. And good. And bad again. Now we’re moving toward good. You reflect me (too Bloggy McGuire?). You tell others the things I’m too afraid/embarrassed/ashamed to tell them myself.

To sum it up, you’ve been great to me, I’ve been shitty to you…let’s not change a thing.

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