Sep 30, 2010

Turn that light off!

There are no night lights in our bedroom.  The LED screen on the radio is covered.  The curtains that are backed by a second panel and also with a tapestry behind it cover the window.  No light is allowed to come through.  Why?!  Because I live with a freak!  Jeff swears that he can see light with his eyes closed.  I'm not just talking about if someone was blasting a spotlight on his face whilst he sleeps.  Of course that would agitate us all.  What he claims is that he can see even the most tiny of emulated lights through the blackness of the night.  The light on the smoke detector, that is probably 12 feet high on the ceiling, urks him.  Yeah--that tiny, teeny, dull red dot.  For added darkening, he sleeps with a shirt draped over his eyes.  Just in case that smoke detector light wakes him up in the middle of the night. And don't even get me started on what he's like when the sun is actually glaring outside.  If he doesn't have sunglasses he is NOT a happy camper.
So now we always joke that he has thin eyelids.  Like the extra set that crocodiles have.  Or that this is his super power and he could go fight crime by the light of the moon.  Though he'd probably want a new moon as I'm sure the moon would be too bright.  Hell, the stars are probably blinding to him;) 

I tried to search online to see if there was a name for this "thin eyelids" thing but to no avail.  The only thing I could find were people more freakish than my hunk of weirdness.  I'm talking about eyelid surgery!  Double-layered blepharoplasty. Not to lift and remove crows feet, but the chopping off and re-sewing your eyelids! I guess some people with smaller lid openings want to appear doe-eyed but I really can't fathom letting someone near my eyeballs with a scalpel. Eck!

Sep 10, 2010


I recently won a gift certificate from Eden Fantasys via my friend Rita over at Fighting Frumpy.  I was super stoked to shop online, perusing the selection with Jeff.  We didn't get anything too insane.  Been there done that.  Plus we wanted to stay in the $25 gift certificate budget.  We ordered a game & some paint:)  I was soooo excited yesterday when a box arrived from them.  But then I opened it.  And the weirdness ensued.  A HUGE bottle of lube.  A vibe.  Hmmm I didn't order this shit!  WTF?!  Then I looked at the shipping form.  It had someone else's name and address.  The strange part was the address was in South Bend, IN.  SOUTH BEND!  That's where I grew up.  And it was on O'Brien Street which is the 1st street I lived on.  CRAZINESS!  What the hell is the likelyhood that of all cities in the states to send me a wrong package from, it's from my home town.  I just wish it had been someone I know-haha.

There was another time the cosmos brought weird shit my way.  When I was living in Guam (a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean), I was in a packed nightclub and turned around to see a girl I grew up with.  She happened to be in the Navy & her ship was at port for a few days.  What the hell is the chances of that happening? 

Sep 7, 2010

Working Out

Who says you can't multitask while driving? Yeah, I'm totally against texting while driving.  Unless you're at a red light.  Or in a traffic jam.  BUT there are many other things I often accomplish while simultaneously driving, always aware of my surroundings, always checking my mirrors.  First off, I go insane if I don't have music blaring whilst I drive.  I'm sure I'm very entertaining to the passengers in neighboring cars as I belt out songs, daydreaming I'm on stage, sometimes holding a pen as a microphone.  I also like to play the drums on my steering wheel.  A lot. I never do air guitar though because that's just dorky;)  I remember seeing this show from VH1 called Motormouth.  I thought it an amazing idea and secretly worried one of my jackass friends would sign me up for the show, airing my dreadful car concerts on national tv.  Alas, I lived in Germany at the time so it never happened.

I also do most of my daily thinking while I'm behind the wheel.  Which is why I don't write on this blog as often as I'd like.  My mind runs a million miles a minute thinking up thousands of ideas I want to write about, where I want to go, what I want to do, ideas for the house, my hair.  The list is endless.  Problem is, by the time I reach my destination where I could safely jot all down, I forget to do so.  Then I get home, get sidetracked or become a gelatenous blob of human goo whom apparently has no brain waves. 

The newest addition to my plethora of multitasks is exercising.  Whaaaa?  That's right! Working out my Kegel muscles baby.  Gettin' all buff and shit.  Now, these exercises are nothing new to my repertoire.  I've always sporatically done them to acquire, for lack of better words, more grip.  If you have a vagina and don't know what Kegel exercises are, I suggest you crawl out of your cave.  Click here.  And get to clenching!  I recently went from doing them just once in a while to doing them at least every time I'm in the car.  Not only do I still strive for that firm grip but I'm also hoping to prevent some things.  After I have this baby I really don't want to piss myself everytime I laugh, run, cough or sneeze.  I don't want to be known as Misses Peebody.  It may be wishful thinking.

Go figure that the exercise was invented, or at least popularized by an effin man, and so aptly received it's name from said dude!  Because, you know, he has vaginal pelvic floor muscles and knows exactly what's it's like loosing that tight feeling.  Uh, ok so maybe he does. I think it would have been much more fitting to be named something more feminine.  And sweet sounding. If only a doctor named Lillian had spread the word about this exercise.  "I'm off to do my Lillians" sounds soooooo much better.