Oooooooooookay...

My husband just walked by and said, "It would be weird to be a pelican!" The comment came seemingly out of nowhere.

A few moments later, he followed that up with, "That would be nothing like being a human."

Nope. It sure wouldn't, Babe.

There was also some story about a pelican rescue in Florida that I honestly only got snippets of. Sorry, Dude, I was too busy typing this.

Contradiction in Terms

I've been exercising lately. Like consistently, for a week or something. Which is close to my all-time record for continued regular exercise. I am easily distracted.

So I was trying to do some sweet ab moves today and the instructions in Shape Magazine call for the use of a so-called stability ball. Surprisingly I do have one so that wasn't a problem. No, the problem was the fact that they expected me to be able to use it while simultaneously controlling my body, staying balanced and generally not flailing around.

Yeah, not so much.

Stability ball is the most archetypal oxymoron I've encountered of late.

Blank

What to write, what to write... Brian is sitting across from me, type-type-typing away, and I, the writer of this fearless pair, am stuck. I'm debating. Shall I share a childhood memory with this (mostly) imaginary readership... or something more immediate? But what's happening immediately? Uuuuuuuuuum, I'm drinking some wine? And watching Brian type? Yes. Riveting. I'm aware.

I'm clicking the keys because I feel like something's there. More accurately, I feel like something SHOULD be there. But godammit - the dogs are making a lot of noise. I mean, honestly, does faux-battle require THAT much growling?!?!? And jumping!??!?!

I guess what I'm saying is: I'm fussy. Annoyed by the noise of the animals (human and otherwise) that I love. I'm fussy because I'm things, writing-type-things, are supposed to be flowing freely and they're just stuck with nary a day job in sight to assign the blame.

Grr. I thought this blog was about the funny. Not about the fussy.

Grr.

Dogs: Different Than Me

Because if my toothpaste tasted like savory chicken or beef, I would enjoy having my teeth brushed a whole lot more.

Liquids

Each day I try to drink lots of water. Lately my measurement has been two pitcher-fulls based on my new Ikea pitcher which I like very much.

So, riddle me this: if I pour water from that pitcher in mixing a cocktail, does that go towards my daily required intake?

Dulldrums

Lately I’ve been thinking I should be more interesting. You know, like people who are cool? They always know a lot of stuff, and a lot of people, and a lot of music and crap like that. And they have varied interests, like other than drinking excessively. They’re the kind of people who know how to update their own iPods and don’t make their husbands do it for them because they never wanted to figure out something simple for themselves. And when they update their own iPod, they probably don’t put “Fergalicious” on it (listen, you need something catchy and upbeat when “you’re up in the gym ,just workin’ on your fitness,” okay? Geez).

I’m honestly really lacking in a lot of those things that make people interesting. Like that aforementioned thing about wanting to do more than get boozed up all the time. For example, if I were not married to my live-in iPod updater, and I had to date online or something, my profile would probably be something like the following: I like to eat food, and drink booze. I hate cats. I like dogs. I think dogs are nicer than a lot of people. I like to laugh at funny stuff. I have 2 brothers and 2 sisters. Um. That’s all I guess. I like good things. I hate bad stuff. The End. Oh wait. Also, work sucks. The End, For Reals.

If I were more interesting, I’d list stuff like all cool books I read or this cool British band that I love that no one else had heard of or I’d include some awesome quote about existence and junk. Also, I’d probably wear more hats and live in New York City. Like all the interesting people. Who ride the subway everyday. And have lots of friends. Maybe I'd go to museums or art galleries.

I dunno, though. It’s kind of nice just mentioning a song that you like and finding it on your iPod later. And not having to make fun of art all time.