Oops, I Missed Retrobruxist Friday, Also the Information Age Is Creepy

For future reference, you can have Retrobruxist ANYDAY, you know. Scroll down a little. See that heading on the right that says Archives? Click the drop-down menu, make a selection, and—bippity boppity boo—a month’s worth of old classic posts. That’s what I do every week! Now you know the magic behind Retrobruxist Fridays!

[Disclaimer: I wasn’t that good at blogging when I started, so maybe skip the first year. Or two, or three. Basically, don’t bother.]

This last Friday, I was busy driving from New England to Queens to see a play that my friends wrote, directed, and produced (I’m biased, but it was objectively EXCELLENT), and I had to get the dogs to their uncle-in-law’s place in Brooklyn for babysitting, and traffic, and what-have-you. It was all very complicated. Forgive me.

In case you were lazy and didn’t DIY:

Three years ago, I was wondering why my friends C and K weren’t married.

Two years ago, I was given an assignment to come up with ten things I liked about my body. I came up with five.

I didn’t write anything a year ago because I was on vacation.

What you may have missed on Fat CrossFitter: I cobbled together a WOD with the resources available to me, namely a picnic bench, a rock, and a Walker-Bay. By the way, I started Fat CrossFitter six weeks ago, and it already has more Facebook Likers than Avid Bruxist, which I began in August 2009. Granted, some are the same people, but still. Maybe I’ve been barking up the wrong tree this whole time—people don’t want to hear about dogs or dates or lawn mowers, they want EXERCISE.

Which reminds me, my birthday’s coming up (in 3 months), and I want this shirt.

Anywhoodle, I got home from vacation last night. My fridge held an onion, some tahini, and a container of moldy lunchmeat, so I went Krogering this morning, and the cash register spit out these coupons with my receipt—you know, the ones for products similar to what you’ve purchased in the past?

Pampers.

Pampers and wipes.

You know where I’ve never bought a product for a baby? Ever? Like ever-ever?

Kroger.

The whimsical-faerie-who-believes-in-a-speaking-Universe part of me wanted to believe it was a sign—a sign. About the time being right. About my capability to parent a child. I must procreate! The coupons decree it!

Alas, all I can think is that when I registered for an account with California Cryobank a couple weeks ago, they immediately sold me out to the grocery man.

Happy Conspiracy-Theory Sunday, y’all!