On Memorial Day
I watched 15 episodes of season 8 of House (so far) and spent a cumulative approximate 20 minutes off of the couch.
Memorial Day weekend.
Am I Missing a Tooth?
Last night, I had a dream that one of my teeth fell out. My first top premolar on the right side, to be exact. I woke up horrified and afraid to check with my tongue in the event that this wasn’t a dream. Nothing in the dream happened that I can remember to “knock” it out. I just came out.
I’m not sure where this thought would have been planted in my mind to produce such a dream, but the only thing I can think of is a photo that a friend posted on facebook the other night of his front chipped tooth after a 4-wheeling mishap. Another friend commented, “Dr. Faggot?” This has been comically killing me ever since I saw it. Not, of course, for the sexual orientation slur, but for its “extraction” from The Hangover. It was just brilliantly well-timed and fitting to the photo.
All of my teeth are still intact. I’ll keep you posted.
Follow-up to this—
He types LOL a lot. My dad LOLs.
I have to stop wearing these pants.
Hanging out on the couch. (Taken with instagram)
Longest afternoon of my liiiiieeeeeeeeeeeefffee.
There’s a Family Dollar store across the street from my office.
I don’t frequent the store, but at least 90% of the time I do go there, my purchase consists of women’s feminine hygiene products and/or cat food.
Almost exclusively these two items, and almost always both at the same time.
I am the tampons and cat food lady.
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This has been a blog about my lifestyle.
- Me to Mom: So...does dad REALLY have COPD or...?
- Mom: He has it, but it's not too bad right now.
- Me: Is it going to get worse?
- Mom: With his age, how long he's smoked and the fact he's refusing to quit, probably.
- Me: I'm really, seriously pissed that he didn't tell me.
- Mom: Oh, BELIEVE me, I wasn't happy either. I saw his inhaler and knew. He told me why he didn't want to tell me. He knew what I'd say.
- Me: He doesn't know that I know. I won't tell him I know.
- Mom: It wouldn't make any difference.
- Me: I just don't understand. He saw AND treated patients with this crap for over 30 years.
- Mom: I told you, it doesn't matter.
- Me: He has to realize he's not the only person in this family. In all honesty, will it get worse, or stay the same, or what?
- Mom: There's nothing you can do but sit this out. He may get severe, he may not. All we can do is just ignore it and see what happens.
- (I'm trying not to be sick to my stomach, but honestly, I'm more angry than sad. I don't fucking understand how a fucking cigarette can trump everything else in life. A FUCKING CIGARETTE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A FAMILY. HOW THE FUCK IS THAT LOGICAL.)
- Reblogged to show emphasis on....everything.
(via iamcup)
Quiet Sunday night.
Tax season’s over. Back to business.
