“You guys…
…are monkeys.
…You’re little monkeys!
…You’re little, tiny monkeys.
…Little, tiny monkeys.
…Are you little, tiny monkeys?”
I need a boyfriend.
Month: December 2010
Protected: He’s So Pretty
Coincidence? I Think Not
The day I find out I’m not getting that 12% raise I worked so hard for, and was counting on, is the same day my grandpa sends me a pound of
Merry Christmas, everybody. I’ll be over here twitching from the sugar overdose.
Protected: Happy Dog/Sad Dog
Amy, the Tech-Monkey
Dammit, why is WordPress not showing the categories at the bottom of my blog posts? I checked the boxes on the admin page!
It must be nice to be my ex or my former roommate. When something like this happens, they’re all, “Well, the configuration of the hyperplex is faulty; all you need is a DPN number. Just barrage the H7 code, and voila!”
Me, I’m all, “Maybe it’ll work if I click harder in the little square!”
(Bobby/Dan, help.)
It’s So Bright in Here
In bed this morning, I stirred. Mistake. The dogs think that it’s time to get up when I stir. It’s not. Especially not today. My head was so cloudy. My eyelids seemed weighted. I raised my eyebrows to see if the momentum might make it a little easier to open my eyes. Nope.
Feeling the thunk of Redford’s chin on the bed, I flopped an arm over and scratched his whiskers before tucking my hand back under the warm covers. Violet came in and did her morning shake. I could’ve stayed in bed all day.
Because yes, I indulged this weekend. I threw caution to the wind and decided, I’m a grown-up, I can consume whatever I please.
And now I’m hung over.
Not from beer. No hard liquor for me. No champagne toasts.
GLUTEN. That’s right: pita bread, lasagna soup, olive rolls. Mmmmmmm.
(Worth it.)
(Not worth it.)
(Fighting with myself over whether it was worth it.)
Um, What?
The Avid Bruxist Asks
1. How many strips of bacon is too many? In one sitting?
(Please say eleven.)
2. Would it be weird if I bought myself the Omaha Steaks gift package advertised in Newsweek?
(Please say no.)
Truer Words Never Spoken
Taylor, holding up a small Snickers bar: Amy, they call this “Fun Size”.
Me: Yep.
Taylor (pause, blink, head tilt), putting her hands about a foot apart: This is Fun Size.
Dear Redford, Part 4
It’s late, and I’m tired, so this will be short. But you know how you run over to people when they’re standing, say, at the dog park or in a back yard? And if they reach down to give you a little scratch, you about-face and sit on their feet? On your right butt-cheek? And then how you tilt your head up and look straight at them and smile and pant? And if they lean close enough, you give ’em a big smooch on the face?
Yeah.
Love,
Amy