Apparently, we all got an extra second today. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leap_second. So, what did you do with your extra second?
This is how I imagine most people spent their leap second:
A) Quick inhale/exhale,
B) Blinked,
C) Took a really tiny nap, OR
D) Quarter farted. (Because you can't do a whole fart without a full 4 extra seconds.)
Or, if you're like me, you wanted to fully utilize your time so you did all four at once, because you're that awesome.
Happy belated Leap Second everyone!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
A new rainbow for everyone!
I'm trying to hone my Rainbow Hunter skills, because it of course will make me and everyone else more awesome in the process. So, really it's a win for everyone, because who CAN'T benefit from a rainbow every once in a while.
To prove my point, there was a new fabulous rainbow this week that many of you have probably already seen. However, in case you were locked in a dungeon until today, here it is:
I think it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It's actually so cool, I would NOT want to eat it. In fact, I might eat less desserts, because I can just go look at this all the time and feel satisfied. Okay. That's a lie, I'll be happy when I'm dunking cookies in milk WHILE I'm staring at this image. Because, now I'm eating dessert AND being reminded that everyday there are a few less bigots than the day before.
Oh, and for those of you who think this rainbow is blasphemous, ungodly, sinful, and you're now boycotting Oreo, well I think you should actually be thanking them. After all, if you're really so pious, then you shouldn't be eating Oreos in the first place. After all, the Bible teaches its sheep to treat your body as a temple of God. Since Oreos are just a bunch of yummy carbs & fats, then I don't see how they are temple worth at all.
So, thank Oreo, for pissing you off by having a belief different from your own and forcing you to pledge that you will never eat another Oreo, because they just helped you be a little less sinful. Well not less sinful really, because you obviously still don't have that "love one another" thing down...at...all.
Plus, we all know you'll just go eat the store brand Oreos instead. So, the whole body as a temple thing...um, yeah, you probably need to keep working on that one too. However, if you REALLY feel like you got it all goin' for you on the God front, then by all means, cast the first Oreo.
P.S. Why are you even reading my blog? You should be boycotting it too, because I fuckin' love Oreos of all colors. Well, not the mint ones...but that's a taste thing, not a color thing.
To prove my point, there was a new fabulous rainbow this week that many of you have probably already seen. However, in case you were locked in a dungeon until today, here it is:
I think it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It's actually so cool, I would NOT want to eat it. In fact, I might eat less desserts, because I can just go look at this all the time and feel satisfied. Okay. That's a lie, I'll be happy when I'm dunking cookies in milk WHILE I'm staring at this image. Because, now I'm eating dessert AND being reminded that everyday there are a few less bigots than the day before.
Oh, and for those of you who think this rainbow is blasphemous, ungodly, sinful, and you're now boycotting Oreo, well I think you should actually be thanking them. After all, if you're really so pious, then you shouldn't be eating Oreos in the first place. After all, the Bible teaches its sheep to treat your body as a temple of God. Since Oreos are just a bunch of yummy carbs & fats, then I don't see how they are temple worth at all.
So, thank Oreo, for pissing you off by having a belief different from your own and forcing you to pledge that you will never eat another Oreo, because they just helped you be a little less sinful. Well not less sinful really, because you obviously still don't have that "love one another" thing down...at...all.
Plus, we all know you'll just go eat the store brand Oreos instead. So, the whole body as a temple thing...um, yeah, you probably need to keep working on that one too. However, if you REALLY feel like you got it all goin' for you on the God front, then by all means, cast the first Oreo.
P.S. Why are you even reading my blog? You should be boycotting it too, because I fuckin' love Oreos of all colors. Well, not the mint ones...but that's a taste thing, not a color thing.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Permission to die?
So, Lawyer Jim and his paralegal, Mrs. Byrd, left today to go on a week long trip to kick karaoke pirate ass. (It's a very specialized area of the law we practice here.) So, we spent all morning packing up the mother ship with all the appropriate ass-kicking gear.
Then comes the big goodbye, since we're not going to see each other for an entire week. Sexting and sending dirty pics to each other doesn't count, people. Besides, we would NEVER do that, ahem, again. Seriously. Never. Doing. That. Again.
So, in the middle of a fairly long, sloppy passionate goodbye kiss, a little tongue got involved and suddenly I tasted salt. Like Jim's saliva had turned into saltwater. Disgusted Startled I pulled away and informed him that he wasn't allowed to die on this trip, because I didn't want his sweaty kiss to be the last kiss I ever got from him.
Then I might have indicated, that if he died after that kiss, in my grief stricken state, I would probably end up kissing EVERYONE in sight, in an attempt to get the sea salt kiss out of my mind. Kind of like when you listen to a hundred songs to get the annoying one unstuck from your head?
So, Jim proceeds to calmly eat a couple of Starbursts from the office candy jar & downs a Coke. Then kisses me again. Apparently, Jim's some kind of mad chemist, because magically there was no more sweaty kisses. Woohoo!
However, as I'm thinking back on it though, I realize that since his last kiss was no longer the sea salt variety, he now technically has my permission to die. So, I'm about to be a widow. Poop.
On top of that, Lawyer Jim's ghost is probably going to haunt me, to tell me that technically I no longer have permission to kiss ANYONE after he's dead for the same reason he had permission to die. Double Poop.
Wait! All of this was specifically about kissing. So, I can't kiss anyone if he dies, but EVERYTHING else is fair game, right? So, if he decides to not die, I now get to kiss everyone I want, right? Ha! Take that Mr. Lawyer! In the future, he'll think twice before trying to trick me into giving him permission to do anything.
Sneaky lawyers.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
I'm learning to twit...or tweet...or squawk?
Yep, I've finally given in and signed up for a damn twitter account. My handle is @MicInsanity in case anyone wants to follow me.
So far, I feel like I'm 92 learning how to use a cell phone. I also felt like this when I signed up for a Facebook account a few years ago. That reminds me. Maybe I should make a FB account for this blog? You know...so my whole 2 followers have multiple ways of keeping up with me? I'll get back to y'all on that. (Yes, I say "y'all". Get over it.)
Anyway, I wrote 3 random tweets last night. Today, I have some random follower. How does that happen!?!? I don't know, but having total strangers following me makes me nervous. Not like, hey do you think this guy is stalking me? More like, oh shit! This guy is not one of my friends. He may not be so forgiving, if I don't tweet daily.
So, I succumbed to the pressure and quickly tweeted something about killing a bunch of fleas. Yep. That's me. Performing superbly under my own self-inflicted peer pressure to tweet. Fleas. If it's possible to have negative followers, I probably will by tomorrow.
What social media should I use next to embarrass myself?
So far, I feel like I'm 92 learning how to use a cell phone. I also felt like this when I signed up for a Facebook account a few years ago. That reminds me. Maybe I should make a FB account for this blog? You know...so my whole 2 followers have multiple ways of keeping up with me? I'll get back to y'all on that. (Yes, I say "y'all". Get over it.)
Anyway, I wrote 3 random tweets last night. Today, I have some random follower. How does that happen!?!? I don't know, but having total strangers following me makes me nervous. Not like, hey do you think this guy is stalking me? More like, oh shit! This guy is not one of my friends. He may not be so forgiving, if I don't tweet daily.
So, I succumbed to the pressure and quickly tweeted something about killing a bunch of fleas. Yep. That's me. Performing superbly under my own self-inflicted peer pressure to tweet. Fleas. If it's possible to have negative followers, I probably will by tomorrow.
What social media should I use next to embarrass myself?
Friday, June 8, 2012
Why do all the murders happen when Jim is gone?
So, Lawyer Jim started another marathon of business travel this week. I think our pets sensed I was a little down, so they decided to take care of me.
For instance, the dogs insisted on cuddling right up against me in bed. To the point that they almost pushed me off of our king-size bed. I had to use an extra comforter to build a divider between us so I wouldn't be snuggled to death.
The next morning...I got up and stumbled into the living room, only to see that one of the cats had left me a present to make me feel better. NO. It was NOT a hairball. That I could handle. It was some dark gray rodent bigger than a mouse. In fact, it was more rat-sized, but it could have been a baby possum. I don't know, because I never got close enough to look for a head, tail, feet, birthmark, etc., to identify it.
Because...as I paused and thought, "Oh. Great. The murders begin again just as soon as Jim leaves town," Gabby, our Chocolate Lab/Kelpie (Kelpie, not Kelp. Although that would be grossly awesome. Google, people, do you use it?), immediately races over, picks it up, and takes it outside. Where I presume she rewarded herself by alternately treating it as a chew toy and something to whack into the ground to show it who's boss. I don't ask, I don't look. I'm just always glad she doesn't bring them back in. This is how we bury the bodies in our household, and I'm fine with it, because I've grown weary of scraping up halves of dead squirrels, rabbits, mice, shrews, lizards, birds...and it's ALWAYS the butt end that's left. Apparently our cats are Kosher.
This process was repeated the next day, only it was some sort of small bird with gray/brown feathers. I don't know exactly what it was because the feathers are all I ever saw of it. I was a little surprised that we had two homicides in a row. Weekly, and sometimes daily, murders were common when we lived in the country. Now, we're back in the city, so the murders have been few and far between.
The next day, no evidence of murder. Yay! I think the cats were just offended that Gabby kept stealing all of their offerings. I would like to think that Gabby was trying to help out since Jim was out of town. Go Girl Power! However, I'm pretty sure each time she just thought, "I'm not letting anyone else get their paws on that fabulous new chew toy!" After all, she's kind of a selfish bitch.
Either way, I'm making Gabby our official paw bearer, because Jim's going to be traveling a lot this month, so we're probably going to have a lot more corpses in need of disposal. Woohoo! Blegh!
P.S. I wonder if the two murders were part of some feral cat mafia initiation? After all, there's a cat across the street that is a long haired version of our solid gray cat, Max. We didn't know the cat's name for a long time, so we just called him Hippy Max. However, it turns out his name is Demon. He's not feral, but I'm pretty sure he's the Don. Maybe, he's modernized and allows house cats in, if they can prove their killers. I guess mine passed the test. Anybody know a good feline gang interventionist?
P.P.S. As I was updating this post about my feral cat mafia theories, a feral cat that hangs out around our office suddenly popped up in front of the glass door of our conference room where I am working. Obviously he's a low level wisecat that Demon sent to scare me, because I've outed him. He stared at me through the glass for a long time. Then I think he left a horse's head on the step. I'm not sure. I'm afraid to look.
Here's a picture of him, in case I suddenly disappear.
For instance, the dogs insisted on cuddling right up against me in bed. To the point that they almost pushed me off of our king-size bed. I had to use an extra comforter to build a divider between us so I wouldn't be snuggled to death.
The next morning...I got up and stumbled into the living room, only to see that one of the cats had left me a present to make me feel better. NO. It was NOT a hairball. That I could handle. It was some dark gray rodent bigger than a mouse. In fact, it was more rat-sized, but it could have been a baby possum. I don't know, because I never got close enough to look for a head, tail, feet, birthmark, etc., to identify it.
Because...as I paused and thought, "Oh. Great. The murders begin again just as soon as Jim leaves town," Gabby, our Chocolate Lab/Kelpie (Kelpie, not Kelp. Although that would be grossly awesome. Google, people, do you use it?), immediately races over, picks it up, and takes it outside. Where I presume she rewarded herself by alternately treating it as a chew toy and something to whack into the ground to show it who's boss. I don't ask, I don't look. I'm just always glad she doesn't bring them back in. This is how we bury the bodies in our household, and I'm fine with it, because I've grown weary of scraping up halves of dead squirrels, rabbits, mice, shrews, lizards, birds...and it's ALWAYS the butt end that's left. Apparently our cats are Kosher.
This process was repeated the next day, only it was some sort of small bird with gray/brown feathers. I don't know exactly what it was because the feathers are all I ever saw of it. I was a little surprised that we had two homicides in a row. Weekly, and sometimes daily, murders were common when we lived in the country. Now, we're back in the city, so the murders have been few and far between.
The next day, no evidence of murder. Yay! I think the cats were just offended that Gabby kept stealing all of their offerings. I would like to think that Gabby was trying to help out since Jim was out of town. Go Girl Power! However, I'm pretty sure each time she just thought, "I'm not letting anyone else get their paws on that fabulous new chew toy!" After all, she's kind of a selfish bitch.
Either way, I'm making Gabby our official paw bearer, because Jim's going to be traveling a lot this month, so we're probably going to have a lot more corpses in need of disposal. Woohoo! Blegh!
P.S. I wonder if the two murders were part of some feral cat mafia initiation? After all, there's a cat across the street that is a long haired version of our solid gray cat, Max. We didn't know the cat's name for a long time, so we just called him Hippy Max. However, it turns out his name is Demon. He's not feral, but I'm pretty sure he's the Don. Maybe, he's modernized and allows house cats in, if they can prove their killers. I guess mine passed the test. Anybody know a good feline gang interventionist?
P.P.S. As I was updating this post about my feral cat mafia theories, a feral cat that hangs out around our office suddenly popped up in front of the glass door of our conference room where I am working. Obviously he's a low level wisecat that Demon sent to scare me, because I've outed him. He stared at me through the glass for a long time. Then I think he left a horse's head on the step. I'm not sure. I'm afraid to look.
Here's a picture of him, in case I suddenly disappear.
 |
| Creepy, right? |
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