1. So sometime last year I had this dream that I was lying in bed in the middle of the night. It was completely dark and I was awake, but I couldn't move my body at all. Then, this mysterious shadow came looming over me. I couldn't make out any features, and I wasn't really scared, just a little...confused? I looked over to my left and Schmoobs was lying there snoozing away (Urm, sorry mom and dad). I kept trying to wake him up, but I couldn't move. Then, the shadow just leaned over and whispered softly in my ear, "Don't worry. It's just me...Knuckles." And then I woke up.
It was one of those dreams that may or may have been totally freaky in the middle of the night, but is kind of hilarious the next day. I told Scott about it a couple of days afterwards. So ever since then, whenever I refer to being freaked out about something, like the proverbial boogie man, we'll just refer to him as "Knuckles."
2. My cuticles are incredibly red and dry lately. Damn this blasted Pacific Northwest winter. One day it's snowing, the next it's raining, then it's sunny, then it's windy. This means an increased frequency in Target runs in order to purchase increasingly heavy moisturizing creams for various parts of my face and body. Not that I'm complaining. If only I could buy some lotion without walking away with 2 sweaters (On sale! I promise! I need them! It's cold here!) and some headbands to go along with it. Yerg. Anyway, I am roughly one step away from covering my entire body with Crisco. Gross. Greatest Print Assistant Ever has suggested covering my cuticles with vaseline before bed and then wearing gloves overnight. I have heard of this method before, but have never tried it. Mainly because the thought of vaseline anywhere on my body except my lips freaks me the hell out. But it may have to come to that if my poor cuticles don't heal up soon.
3. Today, I yelled at two teeny bopper girls at work. It gave me great pleasure. They were obnoxious, most likely seventeen years old and I wanted to bitch slap them into submission.
Scene: Teeny boppers walk into my department, which has a wide array of very expensive pianos, keyboards and timpani on display. They proceed to run to the keyboards and pound on all the keys while laughing between each other. Very loudly. Then they go to a piano and proceed to pound on the keys while singing Alicia Keys' "No One." Ver loudly. Very off-key. Then they go to the timpani and start pounding on them. Very loudly. Very carelessly.
Cue: Ysabel counting to five and then reaching her limit.
Me: Hey guys. If you wouldn't mind not pounding on the timpani. They're really expensive instruments.
Underage Bitch #1: Ugh. Whah?
Me: Those instruments are expensive. If you want to try out some music on the piano, you're welcome to --
Underage Bitch #2: Ummm-a, I think the pianouus are more expahnsive than these drums-a....
Me: Yeah. The thing is, you don't know how to play timpani properly.
Underage Bitch #2: Whah?
Me: I said, the thing is unless you are a percussionist, you don't know the right way to handle those instrumentsss.
Underage Bitch #1: Ugh...
Underage Bitch #2: Egh...
Underage Bitch #1: Whatevaaahr.
Me (smiling): Yep. "Whatever." Byeeeee!
Aaaaaaand: Scene!
For Christ's sake, where do these kids come from? I mean, besides the obvious (i.e. the metaphorical womb of Satan's mistress). Note to my parents: Thank you for raising your children in such a way as to fear your wrath should I even think about talking back to adults in such a disrespectful, uneducated and all around embarassing manner. Oh man. This makes me feel old. *reaches for wrinkle cream*
I related this story to Schmoobs as we drove to get dinner tonight and we proceeded to make fun of the obnoxious teeny boppers for an extended period of time. Much of it involved the two of us going, "Egh. Wha-EVAHR" to each other in an increasingly obnoxious manner. And then I said, "You know, someday we might have a sixteen-year old daughter and she's going to do that to you." And then we decided that his way of dealing with it would be ruthlessly follow her around for hours and yelling, "Wha-EVAAAHR! WhahEVAAAAAAHR!" to her over and over as punishment. And then I said that I would then have to follow behind him to console her and undo whatever damage he was doing to her tender teenage psyche. ...But then we laughed and said that, in reality, I would just be in the background laughing hysterically. *sigh* Note to my unborn future post-pubescent (hahaha...pubes) children: Ummm...sorry in advance?
4. That's all, I guess. There's more to say, but it's past my bedtime and the rest can be saved for another day. Off to take shower #3 and slather my body with Winter Red Currant (mm!) scented lard. I thought I had some vaseline in a little container, but I think I recently tossed it in a sudden must-clean-out-and-re-organize-entire-area-underneath-bathroom-sink fit. Yargh. Target run tomorrow, anyone?
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