Deceber 14, 2009
I had a really eventful weekend.
On Saturday morning I walked into the downstairs bathroom without knocking. That's when I caught Jared, standing in front of the gigantic mirror, naked, posing like he was in some sort of a fitness competition. The only thing missing was a sequin-studded banana-hammock. But the best part? He was saying, "Man I look good! I look so good!" It was a full second or two before he realized that he had company, and those my friends, were the greatest seconds of my entire life.
On Saturday afternoon, Jared and I went Christmas shopping. In the true spirit of giving (to myself), I bought a half-priced sweater from the Gap. Nothing funny happened. Sorry.
On Saturday night, Gracie ran away. It was pitch black, fifteen degrees outside, and that dog was not wearing her coat. After two hours of driving around with my windows rolled down, calling her name, and looking behind every dumpster in town, she came back home. When I saw her, I was like, "You suck." And she was like, "No. You suck." And I was like, "Nooo. You suck." I'm just kidding, Gracie doesn't talk. But she does suck. I have an eaten up Advent calendar, a new anti-trash electric-shock-collar on my Visa, and more than five-hundred dollars in vet bills to prove her moderate to severe suckage. You know, it's funny--I would never deal with that type of crap from my husband. But then again, he's not striped, and that's why I picked her.
On Sunday morning we went to church. James decided to lip-sync the words to 'Away in a Manger' instead of actually singing them. Due to the fact that my son is the second worst lip syncer on planet Earth (Who's the first? It's Brittany, b!+@#), he called a great deal of attention to himself. What can I say? I was really proud.
And then, on Sunday afternoon I went for a run around the neighborhood. I absolutely wasn't thinking when I picked a pair of mittens to wear during my jaunt. You see, when some dirty-old-pervert offered me some dirty-old-advice, it was completely impossible to give the guy the finger. So I gave him four mitten-covered fingers, and my message wasn't nearly as clear. He thought I was waving. I was not.
How was your weekend?