It Was an Electric Razor, But You Probably Can't Tell From There

I'm walking through the skyway with a security person, carrying two arms full of very heavy photog items.  When he asks me, I'm good.  I got it.  But I don't, and I have to stop to readjust. Twice.  Meanwhile, thanks to the smoothing undergarment* I'm wearing, with each step I take, my gray tights are rolling themselves down.  By the third floor, they have crested my over my butt and are making a break for my knee pits.  Like a great glacial avalanche of underoos.  I am so desperate to pull my garments back up that I interrupt the conversation huffing and puffing to say that I see my car right there and thanks so much. When he turns I run the rest of the way to the car--except for the last 30 yards in which I waddle past the parking attendant, my tights down around my ankles: "Hi!  I'm fine!  Good thing I shaved."  

*One of those "Assets" type items.  I know: HOTTTT. I thought it was Hanes, now I don't know for sure, but check out this awesome typo I found while sleuthing!

Hearts, Stars, Stripes

In December, Matt and I got Riccis to shoot our portraits on real film, as a very classy (very belated) dateiversary present to ourselves.  We just got them back.  The day was wet.  The hair was bad.  But they turned out pretty and real and that is all I wanted.  

[Paparazzi segue. Paparazzi segway.]

It's the perfect week for an Inauguration because, among other things, work is molasses slow (the students are all taking finals and avoiding me when I ask about their test preparations), so I've had a chance to pour over images of the beautiful First Family and the dancing.  Oh, the dancing.  

I know I haven't written about this much here, but since I decided to vote for Obama, I've been so often moved by this country's reaction to our President-Elect now President-Actual.  I am excited and invigorated about what he and we can do together.  There.  I said it.

Hand me that shovel.  Let's start digging up.

Suave, Indeed

It's cold outside, but it's hot in herrrrrrrrrre with Maria snoring on my lap. She's like a hot water bottle that leaves your lap to leak pee every 30 minutes. 

Took Dogums to her first puppy class last eve, and not to be outdone by 8 darling animals, suffered a minor panic attack when my swirly silver lovely ring got stuck on my undeserving middle finger.

I did everything: hand in cold running water, hand in snowbank, hand over head, hand and butter, hand and freaking-out run around the apartment.  You know what worked?  Hand in lotion.  Thanks, lotion!  You kept my ring supple and unbroken by the medical technician's axe.

To be fair, I would have kind of enjoyed the excuse to leave work this morning: "Hi Cindy, I need to take a sick day.  My ring is stuck and I think I should have it removed by a professional.  Back tomorrow! Thanks!" 

Exhibit A: (More Microsoft Paint Art.  I know.  You get the story and the shitty visual.  It's like a gift with purchase!) 

Probably A Leg

Some chick at work decided to capitalize on all this New Year resolve by initiating a Biggest Loser contest.  Bring it on.  Since I hunger for monetary reward and proving that I am better than my co-workers, I will be throwing myself into a total mania:

Step 1: Remove that bag of Hershey's kisses from the cupholder in my car.

Step 2: Put it in my gym bag to motivate myself.

Step 3: Get a gym bag and transfer the chocolate over from the Target bag I was using before.

30 reps of that should do.

This is the second of two very fitness-oriented posts.  Please don't misunderstand; I plan to win by cutting off a limb.

As Old as You Feel or As Old as the Gaming System Tells You You Are

Matt turned 27 yesterday.  We celebrated with a Wii Fitness Test and the announcement that we are both overweight.  Many happy returns.

When you step on the device, it says "Oh!"

As in, "Oh! Aren't you heavier than I thought you'd be!"

I set fitness goals I will likely not achieve, but my balance was good, and that was a pleasant surprise.  Must be from sitting on this ball.  (I was bouncing as I typed that last sentence, and my hip popped.  Did I mention that my Wii Fit age is 45?)

Favorite game on first iteration was also my lowest scoring: Slalom.  It is as close to the real ski hills as I get.  Unless the ski hills are made of chocolate and the activity is eating. 

New Year, Same You

Merry Christmas! We're still before Epiphany, so it totally counts.
Top 5 Holiday Things:
1. The very best holiday card: PMack took the top image from a Google search of "family Christmas card photo," photoshopped his own face on, and mailed it out with love from "Pat, Cindy, Wendy and Skip." Skip! Could not get better!
2. The quickest way to share witticisms and broadcast holiday pain: Twitter.
3. Awesomest present I asked for and got: Freaks and Geeks.
4. Least accomplished promises of 2008: Last time I looked at my resolutions was when I created them. So it would have been incredible if I had done them all, right?! Right, so I didn't! Because I'm not incredible. Then you wouldn't even believe me. In. Credible. Anyway.
5. Most accomplishable hope for 2009: clean my vehicle quarterly.

Frig.

Preparing to be fired tonight for exercising freedom of speech. We couldn't find an edited version of "Got Money" (aka "Bitch, I'm the Bomb") for the hip hop dance performance mix.  So.  
It's a lot of bitches, even for me.  AND YOU KNOW I LOVE THE BITCHES.  (Hi, Gramma.  Photos of Maria are the previous post.  Scroll down.)

I need to throw a shoe at somebody (or howsoever we're insulting people this week), so it might be kind of a perfect excuse.

[Are you grumpy like me?  Maybe some jingles sung by David Sedaris as Billie Holiday will cheer you.]

Tha Mutha@$%^ing Dawg

I've spent the last two days crying and laughing at the absurdity of it all. I am bingeing on emotion, Folks.

Last weekend, Matt and I went to our favorite yearly live-auction benefit and came out with a puppy. She spins and prances. She gets all snugglypants up on laps. She's real small. Like smaller than a loaf of bread.

Interwebs, meet Maria Chucha Rodrigo-Gutierrez III. [Specs for interested parties: Pomeranian-Chihuahua mix, age 3 mos., weight 3 lbs., disposition sunny.]
[See the rest of the images here.]

Cute and Unnecessary like Toile-Patterned Napkins

Looking to increase my per diem biscuit intake

Stopped at McDonald's today.  (I know, I know.  You're all jerks and I'm fat. (Are you calling me fat?))  When the man in the window (I know!  DRIVE THRU.  The only thing worse than eating McDonald's food is rolling up slowly to receive it) took my money, he called me gorgeous.  Now if that doesn't make your morning, what skeevy compliment will?

Speaking of vomit... Unfortunately for Katy and Tim, Katy got a very nasty case of the throw-ups.  Fortunately for Matt and me, Matt got a very awesome case of the Forfeited Wicked Tickets!!!  So we raced around town and landed in our seats at the Orpheum just in time for the curtain to rise on Oz.  I had to keep my phone off, lest I be tempted to update the status of how close to the ground my jaw had dropped.  Those voices, I tell you.  Powerhouses of goosebump making.  Which is also to say: this blog just got more twee, since its author is now a Twitterer.  

Served with Imaginary Cinnamon Sticks

Hello, Lovelies.  

To put myself in the holiday spirit, I've started making a Christmas season to do list. 

1. See: this show (checkMATE! I frigging did it last night!)
   
2. Listen: to Low's Christmas Album while drinking imaginary hot cider.
   
3. Want: T-Rex on an adventure.  It makes my eyebrows pop up with excitement.
   
4. Write: some passive holiday notes to people in meeting minutes format: "It was suggested that the recipient should have some Egg Nog over winter break." "Discussion occurred regarding Christmas. It was decided that Christmas will continue."
   
5. Gift: The ladies and dudes in your life with warmth, entertainment: this or this.