Mr. Wilson

This is my nephew, Wilson. He is fabulous.

The ants came marching two by two...

This morning, I woke up to see this:

Ants... lots of 'em... all over the kitchen. Not only that--but crawling all over me.

As it turns out, maybe my last blog post should have been a warning sign. We spotted a few ants in the kitchen yesterday, so we scrubbed our kitchen down and bought an ant trap. Last night--I was sleeping on the couch (which is technically next door to the kitchen). I woke up to feel little tiny insect workers crawling all over my arms. Well, I FLIPPED!!! Took a scorching hot shower--scalding enough to get me through a Haz Mat unit.

You see, I have this thing with "ants"... it all happened a long, long time ago.

My family was vacationing in Hawaii. I was eating a DELICIOUS chocolate chip muffin. I decided to save part of it for later, so wrapped it up again, but it on the counter in my hotel room, and proceeded to go to the beach with a t-shirt over my swimming suit (no one will ever see my chubby thighs that way).

Anyhoo... I returned to the room to finish the chocolate chip muffin, started eating it (as you do), when I noticed... THE CHOCOLATE CHIPS ARE MOVING!!!!

LOTS AND LOTS OF LITTLE, TINY, ITTY-BITTY ANTS AND CRAWLING ALL OVER THE PASTRY!!!

Not only that... but many had become stuck in my teeth and on my tongue!!!!!!!!!!!!


YIPES!!!!

I threw the muffin out the window, ran to the bathroom, brushed and brushed and brushed my teeth to try and rid my mouth of that "ant-y" flavor... I had to FLOSS ANTS out of my teeth--because there were so many, and they were SUPER tiny.


That's my horrible ant story.

And now you know.

Home Sweet Home.

I may have a problem.

Skinny Minnie

Most days... I wish I was thinner...

But then I realize that I would have to give up my gluttonous eating habits--and I'm just not willing to do that.

Lunch=Soft shell chicken taco, tatar tots & coconut cupcake. Dinner=Tuna & cheese sandwich, onion rings & a Diet coke.

So... damn... good.

Luckily, photoshop will help me lie to my posterity about my physique.

The Big Sleep

So... Bobby and I have an issue. We cannot sleep in the same bed--it's impossible! There's elbowing, kicking, biting, crying, gnashing of teeth, and it's a two man brawl free-for-all until dawn. It's HORRIBLE! In the morning, Bobby and I look like we've been cast in a George Romero movie.

Therefore, I've come to the conclusion that people (especially the married kind) are not supposed to share a bed. It's unnatural and against God's will.

I have also concluded we need two separate backs--just like in Hay's code era of Hollywood where marital couples must sleep in two separate beds on camera (a la Lucy & Ricky Ricardo).





I now renounce anything that has not been approved by the Motion Picture Production Hay's Code of old Hollywood: That means Bobby and I must sleep in two separate beds, never ridicule clergy, and avoid the topic of white slavery.