Didja?

Did you know that TABLE TENNIS is an olympic sport???

For those of you playing at home, that's FREAKING PING PONG.

Who needs athleticism?  London, 2012 - let's practice, bitches!

PS - Can you imagine how much it would suck  /slash/  be awesome to have to explain to people that the Olympic Gold Medal in your bookcase is for frackin' PING PONG?  

PPS - Next time, do you think they'll include beer pong?

PPPS - Or maybe Ice Luging?

PPPPS - Or Air Hockey?

PPPPPS - If they include Air Hockey, then I have an Olympic Training Module in my living room.  That's DOPE.

Happy Birthday to me?

I'm just about a week away from turning the big 2-7, and I'm desperately trying to convince myself that I'm not too horribly old, that those aren't really faint wrinkles, and that a husband, a mortgage, and 2 dogs does not make me my mother...

Then I run into a former student of mine. Drinking at a bar. Legally.



Shit.

Crack is your fiend?

My parents are coming into town today to see our new house.

So I did what any logical girl would do...

I ran around and cleaned like a freakin meth addict.

What?  Like you've never lint roller-ed your couch??

As if you care...

I'm starting to think that if I had a superpower, the best one would be the ability to never have to wash and blow-dry my hair again.

But it'd look and smell like I did.



There. I said it.

Little Gold Boxes

Do you remember the packaging from your favorite toy when you were little? Mine was those little My Little Pony packs with the pony all encased in plastic that you had to rip off the cardboard backing. They always came with some innane accessory that you only used the day you bought it, like the little comb or something.

How exciting was that box? The smell of new plastic, and the little accessories all laid out and ready to play. Sometimes, if the toy came in a particularly cool box, you'd want to save it for no apparent reason, just to put the toy back in it and open it again.

My new camera and 2 lenses came in these little matching gold Nikon boxes that gave me that same feeling all over again. Looking at the piles of them in the store, and being handed the 3 that were now mine. I feel like I'm freakin 5. The excitement and anticipation that I felt cracking open the box and unwrapping all the little peices...

I love this.

A letter to my long lost love

Dear internet,

Oh how I miss you. It has been weeks since we parted, and my life without you is empty. I get to work on time, I get things acomplished, yes. But if only I had known it would be at the expense of time spent in my chair staring at you for hours, I'd take it all back. You were always so reliable, there whenever I needed you. You always provided me with entertainment in various forms - your myspace, your blogspot, your youtube. Oh how I miss your youtube. I don't know how to get through my day without seeing skateboarding accidents, dogs doing human-like tricks, and remakes of music videos with stick figures changing the words to what it sounds like the singer is saying, but isn't.

Things are looking bleak here. It seems as though I won't be able to see your smiling screen for another two weeks. The only comforting news I have for you is that my shiney new cushy chair is waiting, my desk is unpacked in anticipatipon. I will gaze upon you soon.

Love,
Me

I bet the youngest can buy vodka by now...

Or at the very least, his own porno.

Jeeeeeezus, I feel old. ish.



btw, when did the oldest get kind of hot? And kind of resemble old school Heath Ledger? You know, like, before he bellied up from the horrible stress of fame... (too soon?) Middle one still looks like an Olsen twin, though. Yeesh - that's irony for you. Fo shizz.


Good luck with your comeback, Hanson, you'll need it. I still have yet to meet anyone who actually admits to buying your first album. (I swear, it wasn't mine... I borrowed it from a friend)

The joy found in a lack of pills

I took my class to the computer lab to type their poems, which is usually a pretty mundane day for me:
Walk class to lab.
Watch them type.
Yell at someone to get the freak off myspace.
Watch them type.
Try to entertain myself with my non-populated email inbox.
Watch them type.
Scold someone loudly for looking at half nekkid pictures of Kim Kardashian. (Dumbass)
Sit there with my thumb up my ass...
Watching them type.

I did a quick round to make sure they were all on task, and I notice that Jake is on Microsoft Paint, scribbling away like a bat out of hell... for no apparent reason.

Before I can say a word...
Jake: WHAT AM I DOING???!! I AM SOOOO A.D.D.!!!!!!!
Closes paint window and gets back to pretending to type.


The best part is, I don't even think he knew I saw him.



Later... and also for no apparent reason...
Jake: Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, AN UNMEDICATED BOY!
Gestures to self, whom is *truly* unmedicated for the time being.

Dear Will Smith Movie,

You suck. You killed the dog, and I don't know why Jansson made us watch you. Next time, please make a more consumer-friendly movie that does not involve animal killage. After all, your prime audience is almost certainly not Michael Vick. (Too soon?)

Anyways, long story short, ... ... ... poop on you, Will Smith movie.

Love, Me

Sometimes, I don't know why I try.

Technology hates me. Pretty much anything that plugs into the wall, up to and including the hairdryer, misfires when I try to use it. Or, worse, completely falls apart or stops working entirely. The *really* fun part is when it works again when someone else tries, laughing in my face as it makes me look like a total asshole. I know I'm not perfect, and there has to be a bit of Operator Error in there somewhere, but really - I just have bad luck. It's like all the karma of the techie world crashes down upon me, smiting me as though I was the guys in "Office Space" that smashed that fax machine. Arg.





I hate you, Toshiba laptop.

Die in a fire.