Saturday, July 20, 2019

Check it out!

Disney: check.
Norway: check.
Fashion: check.
Historical research: check.
Serious, meaningful discussions of underpants: check.
Fashiony stuff I might need to know for work if we ever sell 1840s Disney Norwegian royalty underpants: I’ll keep this video bookmarked just in case.

Friday, July 19, 2019

The perfect storm:

• I have 90 minutes to do a 45-minute workout
• There’s nobody here to keep me focused, motivated, accountable and working out instead of playing on my phone
• I have a full battery
• And a super-cute T-shirt
• For selfies!
• It’s Friday and I’m not terribly motivated
• And by “not terribly motivated” I mean “Look! A phone!”
• For selfies!
• It’s so hot outside that we started measuring in Celsius so we don’t horrify the Europeans
• Heat makes me hot
• And sweaty
• And glisteny
• For selfies!
• I have to be at rehearsal in half an hour
• So there’s no time to start a new exercise
• But do you know what there IS time for?

Too darn

I’d like to sup with my baby today.
Refill the cup with my baby today.


It’s not even 10:00 and I’ve already tried to take a drink of soda with the can completely backward, described a solid-color polo as “soiled,” killed a wombat with my bare hands, downed emergency doses of Gabapentin and 5-Hour Energy, and lied about killing a wombat with my bare hands. WHAT’S NEXT, SATAN?

Thursday, July 18, 2019

I’m seven months pop-free today!

I credit my success with gallons of wistfully flavored sparkling water and the occasional (OK, almost daily) intravenous 5-Hour Energy.
For the record, I do not claim the beer bottles lying in repose in my empty Klarbrunn box.

Don’t shave in a hot shower with a big nose, kids

Note to self: It's way past time for SOMEONE to shave his old-man ape shoulders.

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Hurry up with your courtship, little flirty birdies!

A big storm’s a-comin’ and you’ll want to be makin’ your own thunder and lightning someplace where you won’t drown.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

You know how it’s almost impossible to take a decent picture of the moon with an iPhone but you keep trying over and over anyway in case it’ll finally work just this once?

I think this is that once:

Yesterday marked an unholy confluence of events that in the mortal world happen only on a frustratingly mismatched timeframe:

I ran out of pre-workout shake mix and post-workout recovery shake mix ON. THE. SAME. DAY.

Fortunately, I've recently purchased two exciting new products that are just waiting for their turn to jump into the rotation ... though never in their wildest dreams did they think they'd do it together. I took a new-family photo* this morning with an artfully tipped shaker bottle for context and an apple because there was one sitting there and it seemed like a healthy (and shiny!) prop.
Anywho, I'm about to chug my first shaker of Beyond Raw LIT Clinically Dosed Pre-Workout in an exciting flavor called Icy Fireworks, which are two words that separately could be horrible ways to die but together I hope taste like Awesome.

Then I'll chug GNC AMP Wheybolic Clinically Proven Performance Protein to recover from my LIT-fueled workout.

THEN I'LL BE HUUUUUUUUGE! Please enlarge your doorways if you want me to visit.

*Slightly bumpy apple and nicked-up shaker bottle sold separately.

Happy Tuesday!

Here’s a picture of Bridget yawning:

Monday, July 15, 2019

Before making any bed, it’s important that you first lay out all your supplie

Great-read books that rose to the tops of the piles in tonight’s brief excavation of the storage unit:

Two are bipolar. Two are totally gay. One is a fascinating historical-fiction fantasia (Let the Great World Spin—read it!). One is the pre-McSteamy actual reference book that I received for Christmas 1981 back when I had dreams of being an ER doctor. But it qualifies as a great read only if you really REALLY want it to be.

Hello, little birdie hopping through the bush outside my window!

Dear Pete:

My BOOT EDGE EDGE T-shirt and I reached 14 people (16 if you count the couple I ran into again after my turnaround) this morning, so we have achieved critical voter mass, at least in the 6:00 am CEMAR Trail demographic. There is still work to be done, but I am exhausted and my T-shirt is clinging to me like a drowning Titanic victim and I need to shower and get on with my day.
I ran my same three-mile route as always, but this time my watch registered me at 3.05 miles—no doubt because for once I wasn’t running at the speed of light (so people could read my shirt) and my watch could actually keep up with me. Science is amazing.

When you’ve been awake for no reason since mega-butt-stupid o’clock

and you slept in your Pete T-shirt so you decide you might as well get up and go out and run in it to spread the Gospel of Pete to the pre-sunrise crowd.

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Look at the matching brushed-nickel handle and hinges I just installed on my otherwise-just-like-everyone-else’s bedroom door!


I had an entire 70-screen PowerPoint presentation all prepared to impart on Pete (I call him Pete) how much I respect and admire and enthusiastically support him—and how we’d make awesome duet partners at the piano—but there was a bit of a time crunch so we were able to jam on only six piano concerti together. But still. I JUST MET PETE!
Gah! I look 1,000 years old here. I think Pete's photo-taking lady must have hit the wrong filter when she grabbed my camera to take our pictures.

Books I have recently purchased, in alphabetical order:

• Debussy: Favorite Piano Works
• Gershwin: Three Preludes for the Piano

Saturday, July 13, 2019

The lamp at night ... plus some show posters that aren’t officially in any permanent spots just yet ...

There will be light

My prize liquid-mercury lamps—the only good thing to come out of a dumpster-fire rebound relationship when I found them on one of the little shopping sprees we took together because at least when I was using my credit cards I was interacting with something capable of sustaining a healthy, mutually meaningful, not-shit-crazy-psychopants relationship—are finally out of storage and placed where I’ve long been envisioning their deep-glimmer awesomeness against my new rich-people-blue walls.

And ... meh.

Maybe it’s the relentlessly cruel sunlight screaming through those tiny windows that’s killing the mood. Maybe my freshly Liquid Golded shelves need to tone down their competing shimmer with a healthy layer of dust. Maybe the lamps need a few little knickknacks to tower over in an act of passive-aggressive alpha-lamp dominance.

So ... the four important takeaways here are: 1) another bedroom wall is finally touched up and inspected and back to being hidden behind furniture, 2) I got more crap out of my storage unit, 3) meh, and 4) all this hard work is HARD.