Know why? Because when I pulled up in my driveway this afternoon, there was a box sitting in front of my door. A box with Angry Bunny stickers on it! Sweet! (It also had one of those little yellow address change stickers on it, which may account for the delay in getting my stuff.)
What was inside, you ask? Well I'll show you. There were some stickers and stuff...
... and a T-shirt! Score!
Thanks so much, Kenn! It was really unexpected, and, of course, I just LOVE free stuff! WooHoo!
Anyway, I liked this book, but I'm not going to review it. D did a review of it not too long back, and hers is good, so I'm just going to link to it 'cause I'm lazy.
=]
How does one man go from scary, bad hair havin', psychopathic, ugly killer...
... to very attractive, adorable Spanish-accent having, strong jawed, sexy man?
Damn this long show! I can't bring myself to go to bed until they're done, but they go on FOR-EV-ER!
Since leaving AZ, I haven't lived anywhere where there were palm trees. Because they are so common out there, I hardly noticed them all my 21 years of living out west. However, since I've been away, I miss them a lot. Seeing them makes me happy, like a little piece of home. And after living in places that haven't felt like home for years, any little thing that reminds me of home is welcome.
A damn tan is another thing I've been without since leaving AZ. Having a tan is easy when you live in AZ (or Hawaii, since I did live there also, although very briefly). The weather is gorgeous nearly all year, so I could actually *gasp* go outside all the time! And without 17 layers of clothes to shield myself from the bitter, bitter cold. The winters here are really hard on me. I don't think I'll ever be used to the cold, and all I want to do when it's freezing out is shut myself in my house. And I'm sure you can see how doing that for months on end is less than healthy.
So that's it. Maryland sucks. I can't wait until June of '10 so Joe and I can get the hell out of here, and head to some place WARM.
What would you do if you had one day to live and you were still young and healthy?
Submitted by Green Tea Adelaide.
Probably wonder why my youth and health had no impact on my extremely short life span. WTF?
Dear Snowbirds,
I get it. I really, really get it now. OK, so I still don't get why you drive like crap or why you think the cities and towns you invade each winter owe their existence to you (people live there all summer long, too, you know!), but I get the whole southern migration deal. Each winter spent in Maryland feels like endurance training. All I can do is wish the winter away and hope that spring comes early.
And before you start in on me about Maryland not being that cold, please realize that cold is relative. I am fully aware that Maryland is hardly the "Icebox of the Nation," but for someone who was born and raised in the desert, it's close enough.
Anyway, snowbirds, I have decided to join your ranks, and Monday afternoon I will be boarding a plane headed for Florida. I realize that winter is nearly over, and I certainly won't be down there for the duration (only 4 days), but it'll be an escape from frigidity that I desperately need. Maybe I'll even come back with a bit of a tan! Nice.
*I did a Google image search for "snowbird" assuming I would find pictures of old people in RV's, but I found this and I had to use it!
...is apparently writing a rambling blog post about nothing of substance. Score for me!
Many moons ago, when I was living here in Maryland, but Joe was still living in North Carolina, I was staying down there for a visit. For some reason that now escapes my memory, I had time off, but Joe didn't, so I was hanging out at his apartment while he was at work. While waiting for Joe to come home, there came a knock at the door, followed immediately by a ringing doorbell.
Now, normally, I check the peephole when someone unexpectedly comes to my door. And if said person looks like s/he is there to to sell me something, I just don't open the door. I have a hard time saying no, and am also quite passive - especially around strangers - which leaves the door wide open for aggressive sales people to walk all over me and rob me blind. I am well aware of my condition, therefore I try to avoid it at all costs.
All that being said, when I heard the knock at the door and then the doorbell right after, I did not check the peephole. The clear insistence for me to open the door lead me to believe that it was Joe at the door, possibly with something in his arms preventing him from easily unlocking and opening the door himself. It wasn't Joe.
I don't quite know how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was sitting at the kitchen table with a huge, fast-talking teenager selling magazines in an effort to send him on a trip to ... somewhere, and I was looking through a list of terrible magazines trying to decide which one didn't make me want to puke. I settled on Shape magazine, figuring that it would be less about fashion and makeup and more about health and fitness, and that I could tolerate.
After the first few installments of my 12-month subscription came, I realized that I was sadly mistaken about Shape. Just like every other crappy 'women's' magazine, I had to flip through 25 pages of ads to get to the table of contents. I was inundated with makeup tips and fashion advice, none of which included suggesting products that the average person could afford. "Accentuate your waistline with a sassy belt! This one is a steal at $300!" Um, yeah. I don't think so. And while there were articles showing me how to get my best butt in just 4 weeks, it seemed generally less like a magazine devoted to health and fitness, and more like a Cosmo minus the endless sex articles and plus a few exercise tip articles. Just like many magazines, I guess, it felt like a guide to a brand new, skinny, fashionable, perfectly made up and accessorized, soulless you. As you might imagine, this is not my kind of magazine, so I began patiently awaiting the end of my subscription.
That was AT LEAST two years ago. I've moved twice since then, and that goddamned magazine has followed me everywhere. I can't shake it. I suppose I could call them and let them know of their error, but frankly, that's more effort than I'm willing to spend on them. For now, and for the past two years, those tummy-trimming, butt-firming, self-esteem deflating tips and pictures are going straight in the trash.
