Here's to plucking

I have been feeling a little bit "eh" today. And for the record, "eh" = "kinda icky-ish." Yes, people, I know you're astounded by my librarian-y vocabulary. Sorry about that.

Anyway. I don't know if it's the fact that winter's about to descend upon us or what, but suddenly little things are starting to bother me more than they should. Case in point: my ex-husband just told me that he and his new wife put an offer in on a house. And am I happy for them? Heck no. I mean, of course I acted delighted, but really, in my head I was thinking, "How come this joker gets a spouse and a house (hey, that rhymes), and I'm a single mom living the apartment life. *Sigh*

Ok, moving on (and out of my self-pity)...

This morning, the little man was sitting at the table eating his breakfast, when out of the blue, he looked at his sister and said, "It would be even more romantic if you chewed with your mouth closed." I doubt that my 4 year-old son even knows what the word "romantic" means, and in fact, he apparently stole the line from Hannah Montana, but omigosh, I burst out laughing. <3 that boy.

Rain, rain, go away.

This morning in the car, Princess-pants informed me, "I put all my might into it... Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of might."

I totally love my 6 year-old.

She also told me that she would like a baby Michaela doll for Christmas, and that Michaela (which I'm probably spelling completely wrong) says over 80 different things. I've never even heard of this toy, but I already know that it is destined to annoy the crap out of me. Woot.

So it's raining. And cold. And dreary. And where'd I'd REALLY like to be right now is at home, in my pj's, watching the stack of movies piled up next to my tv that I NEVER have the time to watch when I'm actually at home. Or I could read one of the three books I've got going at the moment. I am SO not a fan of rain. Especially in November.

But I'm still wearing sandals.

Yikes

Be afraid, people. Be very, very afraid.

For I am apparently having Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment this year. And my family will be coming. And actually eating food that *I* cook.

Oh, crap.

Newsflash: I cannot cook. Here is a fairly accurate weekly menu of dinners served chez Gull:

Monday: Microwaved corn dogs (frozen, from a box). Corn (which also started out frozen). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Tuesday: Kraft macaroni and cheese. (With hot dogs if I'm feeling extra energetic). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Wednesday: Frozen pizza (Yay! A dinner with all four food groups!). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Thursday: Ramen noodles. (The kids are with their dad Thursday nights, so I just cook up whatever doesn't take very long). Pepsi.

I think I can stop there... because you see where I'm going with this, don't you? I can't even make normal dinner items, like chicken or hamburgers. Meat that's not pre-cooked scares me a little bit because what if I don't cook it all the way though and someone gets salmonella and dies? Do you see my problem here? Cooking is DANGEROUS! Possibly even DEADLY!

*Sigh*

I can tell you one thing, though. The music? Will be FABULOUS.

You can tell you're getting older when...

... a sex toy party ends with half of the guests crowded around a computer, watching one person play World of Warcraft. And even worse, they've all got characters and are actually dying to leave the party and go home to play.

*Giggle*

Anyway, the party was fun. On the whole, I'm not great in social situations where I don't know many people, so I always feel a little awkward at first. But everyone there was outgoing and completely cool, and I ended up being dragged into the excitement. AND I bought something.

But I'm not telling you what.

Neh neh neh boo boo. =P

Procratinatory

It's 1:00 in the afternoon, and I've just eaten a bowl of corn pops (my first meal of the day). I should be cleaning my apartment, but since I don't actually feel like doing that just yet, I figured it would be a good time to blog.

So. I'm going to a sex toy party tonight. Now, since unless you're the one person I know who reads this blog, you probably don't know much about me. Therefore, I will let you in on a little secret: I am SO not a sex-toy-party type person. I mean, granted, I'm 27 years old, and obviously not totally naive when it comes to sex, but throw toys into the equation, and I don't have a clue. Just looking at pictures of vibrators makes my cheeks go red. So, why, you ask, am I putting myself through the embarassment of a sex toy party? Well... two reasons actually.

1. Brian asked me to go. Brian is my best friend, and is going through a hard time right now, and I would do pretty much anything for him.
2. I'm actually kind of curious about the whole thing.

So there you have it.

And now, if you'll excuse me... I have some cleaning to do. Yay.

Utterly famous

I walked into Shea's office today, to meet her for lunch. Because I haven't been to her workplace since it was renovated, I wasn't sure where her new office space was, and had to go to the receptionist to ask. Upon seeing me, the receptionist immediately pulled out a month-old newspaper that featured my (terrible, unfortunately) picture on the front page, and proceeded to ask me to sign it. Yes, for real.

Now, people, I assure you, I am SO not famous. I am a small (and when I say small, I mean a population of 17,000 or so) city library assistant. I'm not well known for anything, and I only happened to be in the paper because my boss needed someone to pose in the garden behind the library, pretending to be using a laptop. Other than that, you wouldn't know me from Adam.

But whatever. The receptionist said she wouldn't take me to find my sister until I signed, so away I signed. Sweet, but just a tad bit weird.

When she finally DID bring me to my sister, we went on to have a lovely lunch with Jenni at a nearby restaurant.

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Because I work for a city, we have a safety board (comprised of one person from each city department) that meets monthly to discuss accidents that may have occurred during the past month, which required the doling out of workman's comp. Generally, my boss gets to attend the meetings, but since he was away at a conference yesterday, and since he knows how I feel about these meetings, he kindly asked me to take his place.

I don't know what it is about other people's misery, but I love hearing about it. I don't even care about the voting it preventable or non-preventable. I just want to hear who got hurt, how it happened, and just how bad the injury was.

I think there's something wrong with me.

Spoooooky

Trick-or-treating kicked my ass. Who knew you could be so tired after just walking around a neighborhood with a couple of kids for an hour? The children in question, though, had an awesome time. The princess insisted on wearing the shoes that came with her costume, and a half hour into trick-or-treating, she had given up on them and was walking around in her tights.

But it was the little man whose behavior indicated when it was time to go home. I realized he was getting punchy when he started yelling, "Thank you LORD!" at every single house we went to.

Oh, to be 4 years old again.