I Am So Lame.

I've finally taken the plunge. I joined MySpace.

Why? I honestly don't really know. My sister had joined it years ago during its infancy and she had then tried to get me to join, but I never felt a desire to. I could only think of five reasons people might want to be members, and at the time, none of them appealed to me.

1. Dating. I've been with my husband since we started dating at the beginning of our senior year of high school, almost eleven years ago. Therefore, I've been lucky enough to not have had to deal with online dating. I could, however, use the power of MySpace to rummage up the countless lurid online affairs I've been meaning to have...note to self...
2. Meeting new friends. I'm sure this works all fine and dandy for many, many people out there, but I've had some very strange experiences in meeting "new and exciting" people online. It's definitely quite possible that I'm just a distrustful fuddy-duddy (yes, I actually just used that term), but I just don't see the enjoyment in getting to know strangers online. Because, you know, there aren't a million crazy sickos out there fabricating entire personalities and life stories for extremely creepy and unexplainable reasons, or anything. Which leads me to number three...
3. Preying on unsuspecting MySpacers. All I can think about is the Dateline program, "To Catch a Predator." Enough said.
4. Spam. Unfortunately, I have nothing but cat pictures with which to spam people. And I don't think I'd gain anything other than pure hatred by doing that.
5. Reacquainting with old friends. I know I'm going to sound like a total bitch for saying this, but this is one of the big reasons I didn't want to join in the first place. It's not that I don't like my old friends, or anything. It has more to do with the fact that I'M INCREDIBLY LAZY. It's just what I'm good at. Catching up with people you haven't seen or spoken to in ten years is exhausting! And even more than that, I just know that every single person from my past has become totally fabulous. Well, I'm glad you asked me how life's treating me, Kim. I just earned my first bagillion dollars earlier this year when I discovered the cure for Ledinaklamahakaduhicky. I'm married to a Calvin Klein underwear model and have 2.5 beautiful children, a boy and a girl. We're vacationing this summer in our little villa in Italy. It's very important we get some family alone time away from home, because we're sooooo popular that sometimes we don't get to spend enough quality time together between all the galas we attend and host. How about you? I feel like I've got nothing of interest to say to these people. Um, remember that guy I used to hold hands with senior year of high school? Yeah, we're still together. Sorta got married after I graduated from Purdue. What did I study? Well, it doesn't really matter, seeing as I've been working as a legal secretary for the past four years. Oh! How could I forget! I've got three cats. Yeah, I know this is completely ridiculous, but this is how my ridiculous mind works. Sadly, you know what my biggest fear is? THAT NO ONE WILL REMEMBER ME. I was pretty quiet and shy back in the day - If I weren't me, I certainly wouldn't remember myself. Of course, I've also got the memory of a 97 year old woman.

I blame Angie for finally bringing me to the dark side. Since she's staying with us right now, I figured I'd use her MySpace expertise to help me set up an account. Thanks, Ang. You're the best at being a bad influence. Now if Stephen doesn't find me blogging, he can find me surfing MySpace for my next online affair with a very handsome 30 year old doctor named "Matthew" who, unknown to me, is actually being played by an extremely overweight, hairy 68 year old man named Gus who likes to do his online chatting naked.

Anyway, I decided to quit being such a retard and now I'm actually looking forward to finding out what my old peeps have been up to. I only have a handful of "friends" on there right now. A couple of people have looked me up, and I got brave and looked a few people up myself. Amazingly, no one rejected my friend requests! Whether their memories of me weren't too horrible or whether they just plain don't remember who the hell I am but approved me out of pity is not known to me. Either way, thanks, guys!

If any of the five people who read my blog are MySpace members, look me up. I'm in desperate need of people to stalk and am too lazy to find new people on whom to prey.

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Addendum to Previous Post: I Told You It Was Baby Season

If you will, please refer to the second paragraph of my last post, written only a few days ago. I have two additional sets of congratulations to extend!

This morning my mom informed me that my Atlanta-dwelling cousin, Kelly, gave birth to her third child, Alyssa Jean. She is Kelly's and Shawn's second daughter. They have the most adorable babies, so although I have yet to see any pictures of Alyssa, I'm betting pretty strongly she's a hardcore cutie-patootie.

And, just when you probably thought you couldn't handle any more baby news...

By coincidence, the very next day after I wrote my last post, one of my friends announced to me that she is just over three months pregnant. Yes, Dawn and Jim (see pic below) will be welcoming a baby into their lives at the end of September!

I am quite pleased that all of the people in my life love me enough to have babies just to keep that biological clock inside of me ticking. And, I think Dawn wants me to repay her by getting pregnant myself so we can have babies close in age and have playdates together. Dawn, I'm working on that. Just for you! When I say I'll do anything for my friends, I mean anything. But not creepy stuff. And getting pregnant just because a friend wants you to definitely doesn't qualify as "creepy" or anything.

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Hospital Blues and Baby News

It's been *gasp* an entire week since I last posted anything. I'm going through some serious withdrawal.

Angie's dad has been at St. Vincent Hospital in Indy since Sunday. He's doing better in some respects, but is pretty much overall not the best. I can't really go into specifics as to what's wrong with him, because to tell you the truth, it's all a little over my head. A very poor Cliff Notes version is that his platelet count is ridiculously low (Ang said it's supposed to be around 150, and his has been fluctuating between 5 and 16), which means his blood isn't clotting. They speculate that his spleen is hyperactive and that it needs to come out, but they can't remove it until his platelet count is up to where it should be because, you know, you don't want to operate on someone whose blood isn't clotting (like, duh), but yet his platelet count continues to be low because of his spleen....a vicious cycle. But, they're starting him on new medications, so hopefully something will work for him very soon. Anyway, Angie is staying with us for the time being and has been spending her days and much of her evenings at the hospital with him. We've gone to see him the past three nights, and it seems like he's getting better, at least in the respect that his spirits are up and he's looking better each time we see him. So, when you all say your bedtime prayers like the good little God-fearing people you all are, please include the Sellers family in them.

On a happy note, it appears to be the beginning of baby season. Stephen's cousin, Jordan, and her husband, Brian, welcomed their first child, a healthy baby girl, Tatum (Tate) Elizabeth, into their lives on March 3. Stephen's mom forwarded to me the link to their photographer's website this evening, which is where I pulled these photos. All of the pictures were absolutely beautiful and, let me tell you, seeing them definitely has caused my baby itch to flare up worse than ever. Now that Jordan has kicked off the season, our families have several other babies to look forward to this year, including: my cousin, Kelly, is due with her third child any day now; Stephen's sister is due in a month to have her first baby; Stephen's cousin, Cassie, is due in September (I think) with her first child. On top of that, I also have a couple of expectant friends, you know, just to make postively certain that I feel like the only woman not pregnant in the world. But anyway, before I start sounding bitter and you know I will because I'm so good at it, congratulations to Jordan and Brian on such a precious baby girl! We truly couldn't be happier for you both.

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The Truly Outrageous Molestation of My Cell Phone

I'm one of those boring people who prefers the ringtone on her cell phone to sound like - call me crazy - a ringing phone. My brain is just far too simple to equate the sound of JT's "Sexy Back" as an incoming phone call.

This afternoon at work I heard music playing, and even though it sounded as if it was coming from within my desk drawer, I shrugged it off, thinking the attorney around the corner from me must have his radio up louder than usual. A minute later, my desk phone rang, and it was Stephen wondering why I didn't answer my phone. After explaining I never heard it ring, he told me to get my cell phone out because he was going to call me again.

That music I heard? It was my cell phone. The song it was playing? The theme song to "Jem." (Yes, she's still truly outrageous; truly, truly, truly outrageous.)

Apparently, I now have the Meow Mix theme downloaded to my phone, too. Someone was bored last night, as evidenced by the latest post on his blog.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my dear husband?

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Spring Fever's Bringing Me Down

As you may notice, I'm posting this a little earlier in the day than I normally would on a weekday, and that's because I stayed home from work. I don't feel sick, but I don't feel well. I think I've definitely got a case of the Mondays, but on top of that, I've got a serious case of spring fever.

Almost everyone we know takes regular vacations every year, but, for some reason, this year it's really giving us the yen to take one, too. Therese went to Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago to visit her brother, and is currently now in Orlando for the week visiting her father-in-law (while we're stuck behind cat-sitting for her [which I actually enjoy doing, because I'm weird cat lady]). Laurie is going to be going to Washington, D.C., for Sloan's spring break. Angela and Jeff recently returned from Key West and, I believe, they're currently in San Diego.

Not only do we feel like the only people stuck at home, but the changing weather is also trying to push us out the door. Thankfully, all of the snow from last month's blizzard is almost all gone, with the exception of a few dirty snow piles scattered around, and Stephen just informed me the temperatures are supposed to vary from the forties to the seventies this week. Hallelujah, I just might get motivated to dress in something other than sweatpants and fleece after work in the evenings. Maybe.

Having not taken a trip since our Toronto visit three years ago, Stephen and I are debating on whether to take a little weekend trip somewhere this spring with my upcoming bonus and/or our tax return. At the top of our list is going to New York City...actually, I don't know if there's even still any other options on the list, seeing as Stephen has been doing NYC hotel research like mad the past few days. We originally discussed going to Asheville, NC, because of some great deals Stephen came across, but I sort of shot that idea down since we've been to the Biltmore Mansion before. It's beautiful and I think it'd be great to go, but because we don't have a lot of money to play with, we don't get to take trips very often, so I'd rather go someplace new each time. I suggested doing something low-key, like staying at a bed and breakfast someplace south or in a cabin in Tennessee or even in Brown County (southern Indiana), but Stephen didn't seem too enthused about those ideas. NYC definitely sounds the most appealing to me, since I've been dying to go only for, like, forever and a day, but it's also going to be pretty expensive. We've been pretty money conscious lately, and I find it very difficult to spend money on something frivolous like a trip. Plus, we still have things for the house I'd like to buy, like our last two dining room chairs, a loveseat for the back room, a couple of barstools, or an armoire for our boudoir. On the other hand, I also feel like we need to get away, that it would be seriously good for us to take a break from our mundane lives for a few days. And, for Heaven's sake, WE NEVER EVEN GOT TO TAKE A HONEYMOON. Not that I'm bitter or anything (because what girl wants a stupid honeymoon anyway?!), but I should not feel badly for wanting to take a little road trip somewhere! And, if we can limit the budget of our excursion to just the amount of either my bonus OR our tax return, I can justify that we're still, at least, saving one of the checks and not blowing everything. Man, I am so flippin' good at rationalization. (Is it that obvious I have a serious unexplained guilt complex?)

It was so sad; we went to the Imax theater on Saturday night to see "Night at the Museum." It was a cute movie - a little corny, but definitely good for a family movie - and the theater was really nice. But, oh my Lord, you would have thought we had gone to the opera, with fine dining and dancing beforehand. We kept saying, why don't we do stuff like this more often, this is fun! And, who knew going on a date together would actually still be enjoyable! The last time we went out and did something by ourselves, other than shopping, eating, or hanging out at home, was probably last August when we went to see 311 in concert. It scares me to think how bad we're going to be when we have kids! But, with Stephen working Saturdays (up until recently, he was working Friday evenings and Saturdays), and with trying to be more fiscally responsible (whatever that means), it's easy to not go out and do things. Thank God for friends and family, or else we probably would have become a couple of hermits. (Hermits who like to go out to eat and shop, though.)

Yes, I think it's definitely time to get away and reconnect. Hopefully we'll follow through and, if so, more updates will follow.

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Charlie The Unicorn

Laurie forwarded this video to me the other night, thinking Stephen should put it on his blog, "The Flatulating Unicorn." Stephen has snoozed and losed - I'm posting it here, since I know he'll never get around to it. I cannot fully express enough how much or all the reasons why I love this video, so I won't even begin to try. Check out www.filmcow.com for a higher quality version and other funny videos.

If a liger is bred for its skills in magic, I wonder for what skills a liopleurodon is bred?

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How Normal People Store Their Underwear

I don't know which is more interesting about this picture: the fact that we have several boxes of men's underwear strewn across the office floor, or the cat who has made himself cozy by nestling himself in the midst of pictures of hunky tighty-whitey clad men.

Our office tends to be the junk dumping grounds of the house. One of my goals for the year is to get it cleaned up again. I did this last year, but alas, it's long since been trashed. I blame having too much stuff and not enough storage space, because I'm sure our laziness has absolutely nothing to do with it. Anyway, the year's only a quarter over, so I have plenty of time to accomplish my goal and, besides, if I clean it up now, chances are someone will just mess it up again before the year's over. Then, does the fact that it was once clean even count? Shouldn't the resolution remain resolved by the year's end to really qualify as accomplished?

(Seriously, I freaking need to clean this mess of a room this weekend before I completely lose it.)

On to the boxes of underwear themselves...Stephen is very particular about his man-panties. He's always on the hunt for the perfect pair. After buying like ten boxes and trying on a pair at home (because Heaven forbid he try something on in a dressing room or just buy one item in case he doesn't like it), he decided they don't quite live up to his high man-panty expectations and must go back to the store. So like all things we don't know what to do with in the house, they ended up in a pile in the office awaiting their return to the store.

As for Sam, who knows. Maybe he has big dreams of becoming a hunky underwear model himself one day. Or maybe this is just another example of his tendency for man love.

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Cookies and Internet Save the Day

So, the majority of the day today was pretty crappy for me. Nothing bad happened; it was just Monday and I must have really bad lingering PMS, which I like to think stands for pretty much shitty. During this time, my mood is pretty much shitty, my appearance is pretty much shitty, I feel overall pretty much shitty, and my social life is pretty much shitty because, for all of the above reasons, no one can bear to be around me. Anyway, I know no one wants to hear about my pretty much shitty time, but it had to be mentioned because there really was no other explanation for my mindset today.

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I couldn't get the wrapper off of my granola bar this morning at my desk. I struggled and struggled, and then finally used my trusty set of chicklet sized incisors to tear through the package. In the morning quiet of my office, that wrapper made the most annoying crinkling sounds. It was shiny, silver, noisey, hard to open, and contained about 2 1/2 bites of food that were supposed to satisfy my hunger for the next four hours. I hated it and all that it stood for. I gave that wrapper a full on stink eye, crumpled it up with my angry fist, flung it in the trash can, and muttered under my breath, f**k you!

Of course on top of my horribly wrong mood, I was extremely busy today transcribing my attorney's notes from the 18 pre-trial conferences and 4 hearings she attended last week. I really don't mind transcription at all; in fact, sometimes I actually enjoy it. But after two whole tapes, front and back, I was getting a little more than a little on edge. I called Stephen and asked him if he'd please go to lunch with me to give me a much needed break right after I went to the printer, heard someone sneeze and came this close to shouting F**K YOU to her, you know, just to put a twist on the traditional bless you, not because I'm crazy full of unexplained rage.

So anyway, that was pretty much my cheery mood for most of the day.

But! Things always manage to get better. I got home from work and checked my e-mail and the internet was surprisingly less sluggish than normal. Stephen announced he had called our crappy cable service and bumped the speed back up to what it used to be. He must have known that given my frame of mind today, I'd have lit the computer on fire and chucked it out the window within two minutes of turning it on. Oh, to have fast internet again. It's so fast. Like a marsupial.

Then after dinner, we went to Costco to buy my bi-weekly buttload of bottled water and saw MY COOKIES. Angela and Jeff just returned from their "babymoon" in Key West, and brought back these tasty Key Lime shortbread cookies for me because, well duh, they LOVE ME. I'm not usually much of a packaged dessert kind of girl - if it's not homemade, I can usually pass - and I typically am not a big fan of Key Lime whatever. But these cookies? I just can't fully describe how good they are. And, saying they are "good" is such a huge understatement. There is a price tag that was left on the box that says Key West on it, so I know they bought them down there; thank you very much, Stephen, they did not fly into Indy and say, crap I didn't get stupid Kim anything, let's go to Costco and pretend to get her a souvenir. So maybe these are a very popular brand that are sold in stores everywhere and I never noticed them, but since I'd never noticed them for all I knew they only existed there and I'd never get them again, or at least not until I'm 65 when we might finally get to go on a real grown-up trip by ourselves. But on my pretty shitty day, of all days, I discovered my "rare" cookies, a million of them, on a gigantic display at Costco.

Between all the cookies and fast internet, I'll end up huge, but at least my fat ass will be happy.

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This Is Why You Shouldn't Make Fun of Your Husband

Only a couple of posts ago, I wrote about Stephen's sweet misunderstanding skills. Wouldn't it figure, I totally pulled a "Stephen" today at work.

One of my co-workers walked by my desk this morning laughing and I could have sworn she said to me, "Kim, you can call me Big Tits, too."

"Did you really say what I think you said?" I replied, laughing back at her. Note I wasn't necessarily shocked, because (a) she does have and frequently has spoken about her big, uh, tits, and (b) she and I excel at inappropriate conversation in the office. Because work is dull and boring, and sometimes you need to talk about farts and sex injuries and weird weight gains in your boobs and ass just to keep yourselves awake.

She explained: Yes; she had just told another co-worker that she had snarfed down a Big Texas, which from what she said I think is like a large honey bun, right after she ate her breakfast because she was still hungry. So she said we could call her Big Texas.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh, now that makes more sense. I told her I was curious, not only why I could call her Big Tits, but moreover why the "too" was thrown in there, which implies someone else in the office was already calling her Big Tits. If you knew the people with whom we work, you would understand that would just be weird and wrong on so many different levels for so many different reasons.

She said if I really wanted to call her Big Tits, I could, though. I think that would be a very nice nickname to have; you know, it would surely make you memorable, or something. And, I think I would really enjoy having the opportunity to greet someone with "Good morning, Big Tits!" each day. But, I suppose I'll decline her offer, as I'd feel really badly and really grossed out if the nickname caught on with the rest of the office.

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