That awkward moment where Target skips Valentine’s Day and Easter to put out the summer stuff.
Watching Alice in Wonderland and Elliott got excited when he recognized the music from the teacups ride at Disneyland. #doingitbackwards
HOLYCRAP I NEVER REALIZED THAT PETER BILLINGSLEY WAS IN ELF. Dude.
The dinner I made tonight was unanimously declared “infinity delicious.” Here’s hoping the apple-pear crisp scores as well.
I guess VH1 ran out of decades to love because now they have a show called “Best of I Love the 80’s”. Desperation? Maybe, but I’m watching.
Remembering the 80’s makes me feel old. Remembering “I Love the 80’s” is like a punch in my old face. Look how young Craig Ferguson was! Oy.
And yet I’m so glad I’m a child of the 80’s because, like, what would I do if I couldn’t put the word “totally” in 40% of my sentences?
After I belted out the “My Buddy/Kid Sister” jingle, Margie asked: “But you made that song up, right? Because it’s terrible.”
The benefit to having geeky kids is that when I screw up the Mickey pancakes, they simply become Hidden Mickeys.
Five cop cars outside Starbucks. And still I stop for coffee. This is totally normal behavior.
I think three weeks of no lessons have changed my physiology so that I literally cannot be human before noon.
Someone needs to clone Jon Stewart. So that A) We can all marry Jon Stewart, and B) We can populate the world with Jon Stewart.
Lady at Ikea just spent no less than 15 minutes loudly discussing how her child is ALLLLLLMOST tall enough for the playroom.
Everyone on Facebook is listing what they’re drinking and watching on Netflix. Not totally sure yet, but leaning towards mocha and Sherlock.
Although I think I missed the point since my mocha isn’t alcoholic.
I just want to say that last night in some areas of San Diego it got down to 13 DEGREES. #deargodsaveusall
This weather is pretty much exactly the plot of The Day After Tomorrow. So. You know. Watch out for random wolves.
That said, I’m heading outside now. If I don’t return, send Jake Gyllenhaal.
Doctor Who and Instagram presented my dream last night in which I took a photo of a sunset & dolphins through a wall of (psychic?) bubbles.
Because the kids’ medical insurance is changing they temporarily want me to MAIL MY PAYMENTS TO THEM like it’s 1997 or some shit. Lame.
Elliott: “What the what heck? Cuss poop stupid. Butt crap.” What the what heck, indeed.
Sometimes Margie tricks me into letting her stay up late with requests like, “No, do tell me all about Herman’s Hermits.”
Instead of sleeping I: learned about Sacajawea, googled the link between PMS and insomnia, read Anne of Green Gables. Need pots of coffee.
Oh. Also I scooped the litter box at 4am. Because that’s normal.
I survived Sea World on only 3 1/2 hours of sleep. I deserve an award. And that award should be sleep.
Rainy night on San Diego freeways means people driving anywhere between 33 and 80 mph. Yay.
I went yarning with @bethanyactually, walked to my car in the rain, and drove home listening to Patsy Cline. It was a lovely evening.
You know what, Uterus? I give up. You just go ahead and have a period whenever the heck you feel like it. Whatever.
No but really. It’s a lovely day and we are RIGHT NEXT TO a park. If your kids need to run and scream, take them out of the library. Gah.
Margie: I have a salad and a sandwich. I feel like I’m at Disneyland ALREADY.