Win & Fail

So, sometimes I feel like the ultimate shitty blogger.
No good thoughts, no witticisms bringing the house down with lols, ROLFLOLs, or people choking on their chicken wing and dying due to my hilarious content.

I realized today that I promised to guest post at two other bloggers' sites... Bruce at JADIP and Krissy at Talkative Taurus.

I went all wedding-y and did stuff, and was sick and down and out in between, then went to California, was in hospital, came back home, now suffering nightmares and unable to sleep through the night. I never guest posted.

Full of the AWESOME.

I have also been given an award by Sam at a Redhead Named Sam, chosen at random, but have yet to make mention of it. So... I get a big helping of FAIL for that.

On the other hand?

I WIN on Wii.



I am currently ranked #1 on all of Rock Band 3 for "Blow At High Dough" by the Tragically Hip (an awesome Canadian band who never were able to crack North American mainstream). I did vocals solo on expert. Boo-yah.

The smarter it gets, the further it's gonna go. #1 on Rock Band 3

I also did 10-fucking-straight-minutes of hula hoop on the Wii fit. I'm sure I broke no records, but people. 10 MINUTES OF HULA HOOP. That has to count for something, right?

10 minute Wii hula hoop: Not for pussies the weak.

RIGHT?

Okay, so the actual number of spins is about that number divided by 5 (What?!? They throw 5 hoops at you and add it to your total... not my fault!)

No?

Goddammit.

Fine, here is an adorable picture of my sleeping puppy Ella (with me trying to protect her lady-like-ness):

Sleepy puppy with some class.

___

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Have I Mentioned I Hate Cleaning?

So, I rolled my lazy ass out of bed somewhere around the noon-mark yesterday (mothers everywhere, feel free to hate on me).

As soon as I was up, Feyoncé was already cleaning up papers, putting crap away, doing laundry, saving lives and giving money to the poor.

I felt like I had enough energy to eat. Maybe, MAYBE even go to the store to get fruit to have with my wheat and dairy-laden waffles and coconut yogurt.

After I bravely faced the hoardes of slow-moving elderly shoppers at the jam-packed grocery store, fought through same drivers in the parking lot, grabbed a coffee and made it home, I was ready for a nap again.

What did I end up doing, you ask?

Well, Feyoncé was talking about this "spring cleaning" phenomenon that I am vaguely aware of. He went to the store and ran some errands.

I ended up cleaning the front entrance way.

On my mother-effin' hands and knees.
Using a mother-effin' toothbrush to get all the dog drool and dirt and grossness that couldn't be reached with regular, upright cleaning methods.

People, a MOTHER-EFFIN' toothbrush.

I inhaled all kinds of "Fantastik" cleaner, I Swiffer wet-jetted that vinyl flooring like no other assault it has likely ever seen in its life. I think I vaccuumed before washing about 3 times, just to be sure. And I used that weird pointy, funnel-down-to-a-point edge attachment.

Yes, I used central vaccuuming ACCESSORIES, I was so hard core.

The soundtrack to this wondrous (if not atypical) cleaning event?

It's pure gold... bellbottoms.

Oh yeah, Abba, on full blast, so as to hear it over the vaccuum, scrubbing, swearing, sweating, and brushing. (As in mother-effin' toothbrushing the wood floor trim).

Feyoncé came home. I could tell the music was jarring to him. So while I was on my hands and knees, Feyoncé literally said the music needed to be turned down.

WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?

But... they're so HAPPY, honey... it's ABBA?!?

I'm on my mother-effin' knees cleaning the mother-effin' quarter-round wood trim, and he DARES to try to soften/quiet/stop the ABBA?

I was angry... I need the music to motivate.  (p.s. I would have been much happier playing with a kite instead.)

Anyway, the poor guy ALSO worked his butt off doing the mile-high stack of dishes, to the only slighty-quieter ABBA soundtrack.

I later found out that he truly, deeply hates ABBA, that it was an awful experience for him, and, when asked, he was hard pressed to tell me ANY OTHER POSSIBLE MUSIC I could have played that would have been worse for him. (My apologies on the abuse of the comma there).

Anyone else need loud music to clean?
Clean their floors/rim with a toothbrush?

Anyone else think Swiffer is total BULLSHIT, since it makes it LOOK clean, but makes it sticky, which will ultimately just attract more dirt, requiring you to Swiffer again, causing an endless vortex of swiffer-squirting-then-sticking-then-resquirting?

No? Just me? 

FINE.

__

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Bummed Out - Wedding Dress Woes

So...

Yeah, I am getting married in the fall of this year.

I searched high and low, hunted, tried on a bunch of dresses, alone, to try to figure out what styles I liked and what type of dress was in my budget. I ended up buying one (at a good price).

I finally got a photo of me in it not too long ago, and I have come to the conclusion that I do not like the dress. Well, I don't LOVE the dress.

[EDIT: Folks, the money's been spent, it is final sale, it's a DONE DEAL. I'm not buying two dresses!]

There were two others I was undecided on, at a bridal store that had tenants living above the shop who chain-smoked, as all of the garments in the store smelled like cigarette smoke (even in garment bags!).

I have a crazy sensitive nose, so I knew that the odour would drive me batshit crazy(ier), so I ruled them out. I didn't want to spend another $150+ to dry clean out the cigarette smell.

Tonight I looked at side by side pictures, and I'm wondering if I made the wrong choice. The other dress would have been more than double after alterations, but I am thinking it was a much prettier dress. Maybe?

A truly gorgeous gown needs more ties. And tying up. And under-boob.

I knew I would have buyer's remorse to some degree, especially since I decided in a matter of hours to buy the dress I did, without being allowed to take a photo of myself in it (a picture can tell you so much that you can't initially see just in the mirror).

I think it needs a longer train at the back... like this, but longer:

I need a wedding dress with a serious train. Fo' rizzle.

I made two trips to the bridal store, 35 minutes away, in a period of 4 hours to first try it on myself, then come back with my mom, sister and niece to check it out (right before closing time). Normally I take my time and weigh out every possible option. I only impulse buy when it comes to sugary things at the checkout lane in Walmart.

I had hoped to look as stunning as this bride... so close, and yet so far.

Maybe I can make some minor modifications with a local seamstress to make it just a little different at the front. Maybe?

Also? The veil I ordered came in on Monday, and it isn't what I expected. At all.

So yes, I know these things are trivial, but I am feeling really shitty about it right now. So there.

Maybe I'd feel better if it seemed like my tits were trying to fly off in opposite directions?

/ rant, bitch whine.


I hope my wedding make-up looks as nice as this (photo stolen from Moooooooooooooooog, Midget Man of Steel):

Smooth and flawless wedding make-up.

____

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