Mom and Dad are back from their Alaskan cruise.
I rarely get manicures.
Mostly because I opt for basic color rather than this cool shit, and I simply can't justify spending the money (or getting my ass off the couch) to have someone do what I can do in my home...albeit sloppier and slower.
But one thing I do spend money on is nail polish, which is exactly what I just did in anticipation for Fall/Winter 2011.
J recently had a break-in to her apartment. Thankfully, she wasn't there when it happened, but good lord that's freaky. Someone else. In your home. Taking your stuff. I kind of wanted to move her into my second bedroom for a while, but anyone who knows her knows that the offer would be met with a genuine smile and a "no thanks, you're being insane" eye roll.
Even though I've been locking all the doors I can possibly find ever since I heard this news, I don't think anyone would have an easy time getting into my particular apartment because of my gigantic dog...
As much of a lover as he is, he sounds like he could do some serious damage to your bones if he hears you outside.
Like my own little murdering alarm system.
Well, Bella's gone and we're back to being a one-pup household.
She was obviously a sweetheart, but it was a little too much for us to handle -- and would have become impossible once Dave starts work and begins traveling 4 days a week. (SINGLE PARENT FTW.) I have decided that I don't want to be outweighed by my pets, so we can only get little fouffy dogs from here on out.
Of course, the good news is that our little girl went to a foster-to-adopt home with a woman that works remotely and can give Bells the attention she needs. Fingers crossed it works out because that dog really deserves it.
In the meantime, Dave casually mentioned something to me while on our rescue's Facebook page the other day...
"Hey, Lis, look at how cute this pit is."
Well, Miles took a leap and invited me to go away with him for a weekend out of town. To meet his family. To be, ya know, SERIOUS.
(Translation: I was invited to interview at the company's HQ out west. This, after 2 phone interviews, 1 local in-person interview and a writing sample.)
I got a weird feeling like he was going to propose on this trip.
So, like an abnormal person, I panicked. I don't really want to take this step in our relationship. I mean, I'm seeing other people! Other people that I like better! My instinct was to spill my guts to Miles and tell him about my other main prospect (Barry). I don't want to waste Miles' money if I'm not really all that into him. I'll sleep better if I put it out there. But is that the right move, professionally?
To find out, I called my friend to ask her what she thought I should do.
"Well, what if Barry comes back tomorrow and tells you 'no'?" she asked. "Would you want to be with Miles then?"
"Nope," I told her. "Maybe Sam. Most likely Carl. Not Miles though."
We talked through all the details and my friend confirmed my instincts. It was time to have The Talk with Miles. Time to be honest. Time to do the right thing.
Which is what I did on Friday.
And then I held my breath.
Update: Miles totally doesn't care and still wants me to visit. Okay, bud, will do, but this isn't going to end well (for you).
If there's one thing I know about my husband, it's that he will always laugh at a poop joke. Without fail. I guess most men will. But one little poop joke recently took his amusement to a level I had never experienced before.
It won't surprise you to learn that the joke came from Louis CK. Before I link it, let me just set the scene...
We are driving back from our beach vacation, listening to one of Louis' sets from 2010. Specifically, Dave is driving and I'm in the front seat.
The joke starts out about Louis' 3-year-old daughter getting bit by a pony and soon drifts into poop territory.
With the first visual description of a turd, Dave bursts out into booms of laughter. His mouth is wide open, his eyes are watering and he is practically having an amusement-induced seizure.
"TAKE...THE...WHEEL," he gasps, in between convulsions.
What the hell is wrong with my husband? I've never seen him so giddy he's practically blind!
I then begin exploding with laughter. Not just because the joke is hilarious (it is) but also because I have never seen this man laugh so hard at anything during our 7 years together.
I grab the wheel and take over the steering while Dave alternates between approving claps and involuntary convulsions. This goes on until I can no longer see the road through my tears and beg him to drive himself. With one hand clutching his stomach, he puts his other hand on the wheel and manages to get through the entire poop joke without killing us.
So what was so funny?