Ben and I drove to the country today for Mothers’ Day. We wanted to prepare breakfast in bed for my Mom like we did in the old days, however, we are admittedly the laziest kids ever. Instead of getting up at the ass crack of dawn we left instant oatmeal and a “Gilmore Girls” card on her bed while she was at church praying for replacement children.
Reading the BlogHer site today I noticed there is a student ticket price for the upcoming SF conference. Umm, hello, why did I not know this? I’ll tell you why, because Loralee is a horrible friend. Trying to keep me from going on a trip to San Fran with her. She’s totally fired and the only way I will forgive her is if she drives to SLC and wins back my love by having a lunch date with me. Or if she finds me a roomie for the conference, preferably one that doesn’t suck. I can swing the ticket price but the hotel room will kill my shoe budget.
Who out there is going? Who out there needs a roomie? Who do I have to sleep with to get a good place to stay? Seriously.
This picture is a giant lie, because OH MY GOD do you see how skinny my arm looks?!
Today’s autism walk was a complete success! I was very happy to be part of it, and even happier knowing our team kicked ass at fund raising. A big thanks to my readers who donated, and to Rlo who carried my bag for most of the walk. I rewarded him by not making fun of his sunglasses.
I took part in a local news show called On the Record with Chris Vanocur. Also on the show were Jon and Heather Armstrong. It airs Sunday, but you can watch the video here.
When I was told the writer of Dooce was taking part I was pissed. This meant I would have to switch out my purse. I mean, sure, I thought it would be cool to meet her since we have so much in common—we both watch “The Hills” and I have a feeling she knows the super secret that I do: THE SHOW IS REAL, DAMN IT!
But the purse issue took precedence!
A couple of months ago George! sent me an article about his cousin Heather (Dooce) I couldn’t get past the picture to read the article. Her purse was incredible, and I knew I had to have it. And really can you blame me? The retro style print is amazing and those colors? Perfect for spring!
After hours of unsuccessfully searching online I gave up. The next day I couldn’t get that purse off my mind. I convinced myself the purse and I were totally meant to be. And we must have been, because I finally found it and immediately ordered it.
I knew it was a risk as I live in the same city as Heather, but I figured the chances of me ever running into her were slim. I forgot to take into consideration the gods of fate hate me, because a few days later she posted the purse in her daily style section. Within a day the purse was sold out.
The next day a friend of mine complimented the purse and said that it looked familiar. OF COURSE IT DID, because it was posted online for millions of Dooce readers to see. The purse is now fondly referred to as the “Dooce ruined my life” purse. Despite the fact half the world now owns the purse I still carry it daily. So, you’ll understand my annoyance at having to switch purses for the filming. After all, nothing says crazy stalker like showing up with the exact same bag as an Internet rock star.
The sheer stupidity of Utah liquor laws never ceases to amaze me. Last night while at Club 90 for the “Rock of Love” tour I was so pissed off. It’s illegal for me to have two shots in my vodka tonic, but it’s perfectly legal to serve a pregnant woman who looks like she could deliver at any moment. I so badly wanted to walk up to her and tell her off, but I’ve done that in bars before and guess what? It doesn’t change a damn thing. For me to point out to the parent(s) in question what horrible parents they are going to make changes nothing. They will still make shitty parents, and chances are they’ll be back in the bar the following night.
The pregnant woman kept encouraging her friends—who, incidentally, were smoking around her—to feel the baby kicking. Aimee and I sat there in complete and utter disgust. When she took her shoes off and walked around the bar in bare feet I had to stop watching her. It was just too much. That poor, poor baby…
I’m 32 and single. Which makes zero sense because I’m quite fabulous. Sometimes a giant pain in the ass, but I’m convinced it’s really quite adorable. So why am I single you ask? GOOD QUESTION! I’d like to think it has nothing to do with my issues and is really a matter of not meeting the right guy. Although, I finally figured out whom the “right guy” is! You’re dying to know, are you?
Well, there is a couple that would fit the bill. I know, I know. The more the merrier, right? But for this post there is one in particular—one perfect man for me. The only problem is he doesn’t actually exist outside of television–The “Gilmore Girls” to be specific. Yes, I’m fully aware of my unhealthy obsession with this show. Fuck off. I don’t care one little bit!
Luke Danes is my dream man!
I love him soooooo much I could totally overlook the flannel and backwards baseball cap, because he cooks AND makes a killer cup coffee. Enough said.
Isn’t he like totally dreamy and purrrrr-fect for me? Now that my future TV husband is decided I should quit putting of my school research paper by watching re-runs on the family channel and get to work.
