I have a great story to tell you...

...but couldn't write it over the weekend because I was sick with a head cold that may me unbearable to live with. And now I'm on a week-long excursion to Philly and then Vancouver for work. So, the next time you'll hear from me is this Friday for the wrap up.

I suck! But I PROMISE I have a story to tell you that will be worth the wait!

In the meantime, you guys did such a great job keepin me lousy in videos for the wrap up last week that I'm going to ask you to help a girl out again. So email or post in the comments and I'll likely use 'em on Friday!!

See you, soon! Happy Monday!

Friday Wrapup!

It is Friday. I am happy. Let's get to it!

***

This is wonderful and I will be making CB perform a lip sync off with me this weekend to solidify the fact that I'm the coolest person he knows.

***

I wish I would've been there for this! (and thanks for submitting this, blog reader!) 

***

And now, the Book of the Week. This is a book I just finished a few weeks ago and, much to my surprise as well, remembered to blog about! It's called "Dad is Fat" by Jim Gaffigan. And if you don't know who Jim Gaffigan is, see below for my first introduction to him a few years ago. 

So, click here to check it out and peruse around the rest of the site for other suggestions! 

***

And now, the Video of the Week. Thanks for all of your feedback this week, guys! Um, also, can you keep it up? You guys find some funny stuff!

However, I chose this video because it disturbs me, which is the sign of a great video. Also, when I first saw it a few weeks ago I was like "Wait, what?" and then immediately forgot about it. And then you guys just kept sending it to me being like "Have you seen this???" 

There is something wrong with you people. 

Enjoy! Happy Friday, guys! 

I Look Like Every Woman in America. Especially Amy.

This morning I got on the PATH train, like I do every morning, and shoved my way through the crowd and towards a wall to lean on, like I do every morning. Except this morning, seemingly out of nowhere, a guy shoved his way over to me wearing scrubs and said hello.

Wait, ok, can we discuss this for just a minute? I see this all the time. People walking around the city in their scrubs. Which immediately makes me think two things: 1, You’re smart AND more altruistic than me, and 2, aren’t those supposed to be, like, clean? So maybe – especially if you’re going to work – you should wear normal people clothes? I mean, I get it, you want people to know you’re a doctor. I would too, for sure. But I also don’t want to die because of your city-scrubs that are all contaminated by my and other people’s germs.

And I always want to ask them if they’re coming or going, but then I remember that boundaries are what make society go ‘round, and so then I just stare to see if I can see any remnants of a 24-hour hospital shift to set my mind at ease that they’re not about to drag all their subway diseases into the hospital.

Sorry, got sidetracked. Back to the story.

Scrubs: “Hey, how’s it going?”
Me, confused and removing my ear buds: “Huh?”
Scrubs: “How are you doing?”
Me: “I’m fine? How are you?”
Scrubs: “Good, just heading into work, you know.”
Me (I KNEW it!): “Oh yeah, me too.”

Awkward silence.

Scrubs: “How’s Paul?”
Me: “What?”
Scrubs: “I heard you guys are getting married, that’s great!”
Me: “You mean CB?”
Scrubs: “What?”
Me: “Wait…do you know me?”
Scrubs, laughing: “Oh sh*t, I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else.”
Me, laughing and relieved that I didn’t just forget a friend: “Oh no problem! I just thought you were friendly. And then you brought up Paul, but I’m getting married, too, so then I thought maybe you just forgot his name.”
Scrubs: “So sorry! And congratulations!”
Me: “Thanks!”

Silence. And now we’re just standing really close to each other on a moving train without knowing each other.

Me: “Did you think my name was Amy?”
Scrubs: “What?”
Me: “I get mistaken for Amy all the time. Except not, like, by face, but people always call me Amy.”
Scrubs, feeling more awkward now: “Uh, no, I thought you were Elise.”
Me: “Oh. That’s a pretty name.”

Awkward silence.

Scrubs: “But now that you say it, you do look like an Amy.”
Me: “I know! I hear that all the time. I was just telling friends that I think I’m secret-named Amy because people have called me that since I was little.”
Scrubs, feeling weird because I’m weird: “That’s wild.”

Silence.

More silence.

My stop.

Me: “Well, have a good day at work!”
Scrubs: “Thanks, Amy, you too!”

End scene.

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Also, what on EARTH should the video of the week be this Friday?? I’m at a loss! And my dad will be mad if I put anymore Jay-Z on there. So help a girl out. 

Parenting 101

So, CB and I spent the weekend on a lake in the middle of New York state with some friends and their kids. And every time we are around parents and their children for longer than about an hour, we are struck by two competing emotions. The first is OH MY GOD THESE KIDS ARE SO CUTE AND THEY LOVE US SO MUCH WE’RE GOING TO KILL IT AS PARENTS. And the second is OH MY GOD HOW WILL WE EVER BE PARENTS.

And I gotta tell you, the second one yells really loud!

Don’t get me wrong, you guys, I love some kids and like a few more. But the overall kid population at best, entertains me until I want some quiet time, and at worst, terrifies me to my very core.

A clear role model.

First of all, every time we spend a significant amount of time around kids, we come back to our apartment, look at each other, and start tired-laughing about how quiet it is and how exhausted we are. Also, it should be noted that we are never in charge of anything like changing diapers, food patrol, or any sort of actual parenting. We are basically in charge of running the kids ragged so they’ll sleep on the car ride home and giving the parents a few hours of uninterrupted conversation with other people their height.

However, while CB is a natural and children gravitate towards him as a playmate and someone to literally and figuratively look up to, they tend to gravitate towards me as a peer. Which, to be fair to them, makes a lot of sense since I do possess the same sparkle shoes and find yelling randomly and pretending to be scared of monsters a legit pastime. 

Also, my default when around kids isn’t necessarily to parent them – hopefully because they’re not mine and so I don’t struggle with whether to abduct my friend’s kids and raise them as my own. That’d likely be worse than just sort of letting kids talk with their mouths full when their moms aren’t looking and sometimes letting them put their elbows on the table. But I’m not a parent, so maybe I’m wrong.

I mean, I’m sure if CB and I are lucky enough to be parents to kids that are actually from our gene pool someday, things like looking out for their safety, making sure they’re fed, and knowing when to lay down a strongly worded monologue about not hitting your brother will start to just come naturally.

Plus, I think we’re both driven by a strong urge to not raise adults who are giant a-holes. And if we’re being honest, there are worse motivating factors, right?

Nonetheless, there are a few things about parenting that I’ve picked up on over the years that really stick out. Which include, but in no way are limited to, the following:

Repeating yourself is completely exhausting. Correct me if I’m wrong, parents, but half the battle – at least from ages 0-18? – is repeating yourself ad nauseam about what you just told that damn kid three minutes ago. “Don’t hit,” “Get your elbows off the table,” “No jumping on the bed,” “Don’t run with scissors” and other very obvious things that kids would know better if they were just paying attention the first million times you said it.

However, something impressive about parenting is that you just keep doing it. Like, if CB told me not to run with scissors, and then I ran with scissors and he told me not to again, yet this time, he explained why it’s logical not to run with scissors? I’d totally catch on.

But you know what a kid would do? Run with scissors five minutes later, fall, trip, and potentially stab a part of their body. Then, they’d come crying to the person who JUST WARNED THEM NOT TO DO THAT so that you can fix it and make it all better. I mean, it’s like kids are mini psychopaths just waiting to see how much you can take.

Wait, not something a person wanting to be a parent should say? Moving on.

You can never finish a sentence. Ok, so apparently this only happens between the ages of 0-8? 9? I’m not sure. But I do know that at some point your kids stop wanting to be anywhere near you, and it’s kind of amazing because then you can finish having that conversation about “The Mindy Project” you started seven years ago. But while they’re still growing and learning and depending on you for life in all ways, you definitely can’t ever finish a sentence.

Or you can, but it’s in the form of yelling at the other person you’re talking to so that you’re talking over the child who’s asking you a question you answered for them eleven seconds ago (see #1 above). And then it just makes the person you’re talking to feel bad and be like “Please don’t yell-talk at me and just let him know why he has to finish his sandwich before eating the chocolate bar. I’ll wait.”

Kids don’t listen EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO. Guess what? You tell a kid not to play with scissors and he’ll be running with said scissors and a 10-inch blade in the other hand before the hour is up. But you accidentally say the f-word or call something or someone stupid under your breath while driving, and the kid will pick it up with his/her supersonic hearing before it’s even crossed the sound barrier.

You’re not allowed to laugh. Oh my God, this one is for sure the hardest. Because those mini psychopaths are FUNNY, you guys, especially when they’re doing something they’re not supposed to do. Which I’m pretty sure is why we have so many unhinged reality tv stars today - they were simply raised by parents who not only didn’t tell them not to run with scissors, but laughed and encouraged them while they did it.

Which is totally my fear! Because I find most things in life at least slightly amusing. And when those things are coming out of a three year old's mouth, it’s downright Second City-worthy. However, when you’re a parent, from what I can tell, you have to not only train yourself not to laugh at or with them when they’re being naughty, but you have to remind your friends not to totally blow your cover, too! It’s a lot of stress as a parent.

So there you have it. An incomplete list of why parenting is hard and makes me sleepy to watch. Do you agree? What have I missed? I told you it was an incomplete list and it’s because I’m extra tired from two days of kid-play!

Happy Monday!

Friday Wrapup!

Let's get right to it!

***

We're spending the weekend in New York state with some friends - which includes four kids - and so you'll likely have a great story on Monday about how I definitely don't know what the hell I'm doing when it comes to kids and may actually allow them to do things that their parents don't encourage by accident. That happens a lot, mainly because I'm like 'I have no idea, they're your kids, what's the deal?' and then that whole 'It takes a village' notion flies right out the window.

Whatever, CB's great with kids, so I'm usually just like 'You see that tall guy over there? Go jump on him!' and then I drink wine.

Anyway, something to look forward to reading on Monday!

***

This was taken at CB's place several
months ago. It's possible the sun had
not completely set. Also, I may have
been eaten by a blanket monster.

I got an email this morning from a friend with a link to this and all he said was: "God, please become this person."

Um, how does this woman have friends and/or a fiance who hasn't poisoned her diet food yet?

However, I'm definitely on board with bed time rules and wish someone would insist on me going to bed by 8:30 every night. Perhaps I will create this household rule for myself starting immediately. Also, it's possible that I've already been secret-doing this for years.

***

This week's Book of the Week is by an author whose books I've enjoyed in the past, and it's likely that you have, too. He's famous for writing "The Kite Runner" and "A Thousand Splendid Suns," and his new book, "And The Mountains Echoed" seems to put author Khaled Hosseini in the category of "author I trust" now - if you write two or three solid books that multiple people in my family like? You're alright by me.

So, check out the review here and let me know what you think!

***

And now, the Video of the Week. This song popped up on my Shuffle playlist earlier today and it always gets to me. DAMN YOU BEN FOLDS! But it gets to me in the best way possible. So, enjoy, have a great weekend, and see ya' all next week!

Also, what would you like to see as a Video of the Week? I want to know! Some of you have sent me music/videos in the past and I've featured them here and there are weeks where I'm just at a loss. So help a girl out!

Conversations from Cohabitation

While getting ready for bed the other night, I slid under the covers and simultaneously slid CB’s second pillow out from underneath his head.

CB: “This is an abusive relationship.”
Me: “You’re very dramatic. You snore more when you’re elevated.”
CB: “You have three pillows and I have one.”
Me: “It’s your lot in life.”
CB: “You’re my lot in life.”

***

Different night, as CB was getting into bed:

Me: “Ooh! Ooh! Could you please turn off the overhead light?”
CB, giving me a sideways glance.
Me: “You are the last to bed! Bedtime rules.”
CB: “There are bedtime rules?”
Me: “Yep.”
CB, turning off the lights and walking towards the bed.
Me: “Ooh! Ooh! Could you please do me a favor and double-check that the front door is locked?”
CB, giving me a sideways glance as he walked towards the bedroom door.
Me: “Are you contemplating smothering me in my sleep?”
CB, unconvincingly: “No….”
Me: “Lies.”
CB: “Maybe if I had more pillows to spare I would.”

***

Me: “I think my mom was right that our bodies don't break down carbs as well as some other people's. Because I’ve been watching it over the last month and I’ve lost 6 pounds.”
CB: “That’s great!”
Me: “I mean, I could never be one of those people who just doesn’t eat carbs, because that’s crazy and I want to be happy. But it’s amazing how eating half of what I would eat before still satisfies me. It’s like I get my cake and can eat it too. Which I’ll also never give up.”
CB, “listening” while playing a game on his phone.
Me: “Can you tell I’ve lost 6 pounds?”
CB, looking up from his phone: “Yes-no! I don’t know, I’m not sure what the right answer is.”
Me, laughing: “That’s fair, you really can’t win.”
CB: “I mean, if I say yes, you’ll be like ‘does that mean you thought I was fat?’, which isn’t the case. And if I say no, you’ll be like ‘I can’t believe you didn’t notice I lost 6 pounds.’ So I’m not sure what to say.”
Me, still laughing: “I promise this isn’t a trick but honestly, can you tell?”
CB, looking at me to decide whether I will stab him: “Honestly? No.”
Me: “What if I gained 6 pounds?”
CB, without missing a beat: “I’d notice right away.”
Me: “Fair enough.”

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

It's all fun and games until you shoot off a cannon.

So this weekend, CB’s parents threw an engagement party for us in their back yard. You know, a small, intimate gathering of our closest friends and some family, a few drinks, and some delicious food.

And by “intimate” I mean there were 60 people there, and by “gathering” I mean the police showed up twice and I ended up in a pink bathrobe with a bottle of champagne in front of me by 8:30.

What? I’m the bride!

As you all know by now, I come from a small family in the Midwest, so the idea of an engagement party was a foreign concept to me. However, when you live in New Jersey and are marrying into a family that multiplies like Gremlins every time you turn around, the concept that we’d pass up the chance for a party is foreign and, might I add, not even remotely close to any form of reality in their world.

And so we had an engagement party.

Of course, since my immediate family lives in Michigan and North Carolina, and CB’s dad’s side of the family is gigantor in their own right and live in Virginia and elsewhere, it was just one half of CB’s family and none of mine. Which should terrify you/me about the size of our actual wedding while simultaneously making you eager to fast-forward one year and read about the goings on when there’s an open bar and no kids around.

Anyway, it can always become a little unwieldy when multiple, separate facets of your lives come together to meet for the first time – which is why we had a lot of champagne and beer on-hand – but it was as seamless as it could be. People laughed, kids played, and then the police showed up after we shot a cannon off of the deck.

What, there wasn’t a cannon at your engagement party? Weird.

But whatever, sensitive neighbors, you should know better than to think we’d have a family/friend function of more than 12 people and not shoot off the cannon. It’s like you don’t know us at all!

However, since we’re not ones to be scared off by a a few blue and red flashing lights, the party continued on into the wee hours of the night, sans cannons.  I mean, I didn’t see those wee hours because you’re lucky I made it ‘til 10, let’s get real. But others, I heard the next morning, thoroughly enjoyed themselves AND nobody got arrested. Win/win.

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday Wrapup!

Let’s get to it!

***

Ok, first of all, I just walked into our office kitchen to make some coffee and accidentally started whistling that horrible(ly wonderful) Rod Stewart song “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” – which is the stupidest name of a song next to “I've Been Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart” (look it up – it’s real).

Anyway, I didn’t even realize I was whistling it, which apparently happens a lot because CB will be like “No seriously, do you have any thoughts that aren’t on the outside?” and I’m like “Thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts” at him and then he leaves the room.

But I digress. So I was whistling Rod Stewart when I turned around and saw our Executive Vice President standing there. Really impressed.

EVP: “Well someone is going to have a good weekend.”

Me, dying.

Moving on.

***

This week’s book review is actually a throwback to the 1970s, just like my taste in music. But it’s way better than a Rod Stewart song, judging by the review, and so I’ve added it to my list of books to read THAT IS GROWING LONGER THAN THE LIFE I WILL LIKELY LIVE. But it’s on there –and I’m excited! So click here to check out the review for “Time and Again” by Jack Finney. And enjoy!  

***

And now, the Video of the Week - and this one has a back story, you guys! It also involves one of my dreams, and so I advance apologize for you having to listen to me tell you about my dreams, because that’s the worst.

Last night I had all sorts of wedding dreams – like, the first one was when I ran into Scarlett Johansson trying to go incognito at Kleinfeld’s, and we tried on the same dresses and then talked all about our weddings. And she really liked my engagement ring and I borrowed her lip gloss. But then I sort of half-woke up, was like ‘Wow, Scarlett and I will definitely be awake friends,’ and then fell back to sleep.

Which is when Justin Timberlake entered the picture and wanted to know if he could write a song and be our wedding band. And I was like “Or the groom?” and he was like “That’s what I was hoping you would say.” (all of that happened but the last part). But he DID start telling me how much he liked my dress, and then started singing “Sexy Back” at me and I was like “I know, right? I look good!” and then I started to dance on some weird blue stage while JT sang at me from the audience, which is like a reverse Justin Timberlake concert.

And then I woke up and was like “I really shouldn’t have any sugar before bedtime anymore.”

So, without further ado, here’s a throwback to one of my fav’s. Also, I wanted to keep on-trend with the whole not-being-current-with-any-musical-reference thing I have going on today.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Conversations from Cohabitation

Since today isn't just another Wednesday, I wanted to also share my post from last year on this day in case anyone is feeling a little reflective. Please click here for last year's 9/11 post.

***

Last night, I sat down to eat an apple and read my book.

CB: “You love apples.”
Me: “I really do.”
CB: “Are apples your fruit of choice?”
Me: “Um…I guess so? I mean, I like other fruit, but apples are definitely my favorite. But I don’t like raspberries because they’re too furry. And I don’t love oranges. Or cherries. But I do like blueberries. Bananas have that weird texture thing, so that’s no good.
CB: “Peaches?”
Me, making a gagging face: “Ugh, no. Oooh, but I like pears.”
CB: “So basically you like apples and pears?”
Me: “And blueberries.”
CB: “Strawberries?”
Me: “I prefer strawberries if they’re in, like, Cool Whip. Or champagne.”
CB: “I think that’s a given.”
Me: “And I definitely don’t like fruit for dessert.”
CB: “Yep, I already knew that about you. You've made that pretty clear.”

Pause.

Me: “What fruit do you like?”
CB: “Basically all of it.”
Me: “Bananas?”
CB: “Not really, but I eat them.”
Me: “Raspberries? Blueberries?”
CB: “No, they’re kind of too small.”
Me: “Oranges?”
CB: “Sure.”
Me: “Peaches, pears?”
CB: “They’re alright. I don’t like mangos or pineapple or anything.”
Me: “Um, so you basically don’t like all of it. You pretty much like what I like.”
CB: “I like watermelon.”
Me: “I like watermelon, too.”
CB: “And if it’s all together in a fruit salad, I like that.”
Me, laughing: “A salad of fruit?”
CB, laughing: “Yeah, you know, a fruit salad?”
Me: “I’ve never in my life seen or had a fruit salad.”
CB: “That’s impossible. Google it.”
Me, googling: “Ooooh, I want a fruit salad that looks like sangria.”
CB: “Um, that is sangria.”
Me: “Then that’s the kind of fruit salad I want.”
CB: “You know what?  I don’t like grapefruit, but my grandmother used to have grapefruit and sprinkle sugar over it and that was good.”
Me: “Well of course that’s good, you sprinkled sugar over it.”

Pause.

Me: “Judge’s ruling on the worst fruit ever? The tomato.”
CB, laughing: “I don’t mind tomatoes, especially if you put salt or pepper and mozzarella cheese on it.”
Me: “You really like to make your fruit bad for you.”

Pause.

Me: “We just spent a really long time talking about fruit.”
CB: “We really did.”

***

This morning, I was watching a news story on a Chobani Green Yogurt recall.

Me: “I’m going to die!”

Silence.

Me, to Oliver, the cat: “I’m going to die and he doesn’t care.”

Oliver, ignoring me for his cardboard box.

Me, louder: “I’m going to die!”

Silence.

Then I walked into the bedroom.

CB: “Why are you going to die?”
Me: “Because there’s a recall on certain Chobani Greek Yogurt. Which I eat every day! And I checked the expiration date and it falls in line with the ones they’re recalling.”
CB: “Why are they recalling it?”
Me: “Because of some kind of mold.”
CB: “You’ll be fine.”
Me: “How will I be fine if I eat mold?”
CB: “Eh, a little mold is good for you. Builds up your immunity.”
Me: “Um, I won’t need an immune system if I’m dead.”
CB: “You’re being very dramatic.”
Me: “You’ll be sad when I’m dead.”
CB: “I’ll take my chances.”

Have a great Wednesday, everyone!

I'm a Sleep Monster.

Something you may not know about me is that the nighttime is not the right time to do any sort of interacting with me. You don’t want to talk to me, you don’t want to try to share a bed with me, and you certainly don’t want to wake and/or keep me up.

Basically what I’m saying here is that CB lives with a Sleep Monster.

For a few years now, he has been telling tales of his seemingly normal girlfriend/fiancé by day, Devil Diva by night. I have kicked him, nudged him, yelled at him (but he’s dramatic, so let’s just call it “passionately talked loudly” at him), and have been an overall nightmare dream to live with during the nighttime hours.

However, I’ve also been known to sing in my sleep, and because of this, I think everything else is negated since I have a lovely singing voice and it’s a gift to the world.

Anyway, last night was no exception to my Sleep Monster tendencies. Though once you hear this story, I think you’ll all definitely be on my side and should not ask CB if he has a side or not.

You see, CB had been out of town for a  few nights, and like any dedicated partner would do, I took over the entire bed with my fort of pillows and dreamed about how nice it’d be if we lived in a 1950s television show so we would have two separate beds at all times because MORALITY, people.

 Also, I was able to sleep without my ear plugs and my Mr.Myagi rituals, which is the best.

So when my beloved came home last night in a pleasant mood and not at all over-tired from a weekend of sleep deprivation and rich food and beer, causing him to feel nauseated, I was really excited about hitting the sheets. Ooooh baby baby. Because nothing spells romance like the delight of an over-tired, 200 pound man with blocked nasal passages taking over your queen-sized bed.

So instantly, of course, he fell asleep and started to snore. So instantly, of course, I was all aboard the hate train, laying there staring at the ceiling and contemplating smothering him with a pillow.

But since I have a heart (and a clean criminal record), I decided, instead, to just be really silent/obvious-annoyed at him and did that tossing and turning in bed thing where you’re hoping that you’re actually potentially launching the other person off of the mattress with the weight of your movements, hence, disallowing them to enjoy the sleep you are not.

It’s the sleeping equivalent to the half turnaround at the movie theater when someone is talking during any part of the movie-going experience. Which is the worst.

However, shockingly, the angry toss didn’t do the trick because he was still snoring and now beginning to spread himself out more and more over the width of the bed so that I was hanging onto the sides. Which is really scary to do with ear plugs in and an eye mask on, you guys! I was sensory deprived!

Anyway, after about 45 minutes of laying there hating the man that I love, I decided that the only logical solution to not getting a good night’s sleep was to ensure that I didn’t get a good night’s sleep by going out into the living room to sleep on the floor with our cat.

Obviously.

Now, one might ask why I didn’t just set up shop on the couch. But, you see, we haven’t quite gotten around to purchasing new furniture for our place, and so we’re currently working with some really nice - but studio-sized - living room furniture from CB’s former apartment. And we’re not pocket-people, so there’s no couch-dwelling for either of us.

Besides, sleeping on the floor is dramatic, and that’s what I am at 11:30 at night. However, by 4am I am no longer dramatic and I’m just stiff and sore and back to quiet-hating CB. So I gathered up my blanket and three pillows (I travel deep), walked back into the bedroom, and plopped into bed.

CB, half-asleep: “Are you alright?”
Me: “Mmmm hmmmm.”

Hate.

Cut to: 7:45 am, I’m awake, showered, fed, and getting my day started.

CB comes out of the bedroom looking sleepy: “Good morning.”
Me: “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
CB: “Fine….I’m tired.”
Me: “Me too.”

Hate.

Happy Monday, everyone! Hope you got a good night's sleep!

Friday Wrapup

It's downright fall-like outside, the birds are chirping, and my allergies have given me a migraine - it must be both September AND Friday! Let's get to it.

***

So, I don't know how many of you have recently or are currently looking for a new job. If you are, I urge you to take note of what Joseph has done with his My Little Pony resume.

And no, folks, this does not seem to be a joke. He apparently took all of those "tips" you can read online about how to jazz up your resume, then dropped some acid, and then produced this. And it's wonderful.

Since CB is currently buffing up his resume and exploring new career possibilities I will strongly encourage him to take this route. Except maybe plagiarizing a My Little Pony resume would be seen as poor taste, so perhaps he should do, like, a He-Man resume or something.

***


I know this is a few week's old, but it still makes me laugh AND this song is on repeat while I run these days. So I figured I'd throw it in here just in case you missed it back in August!

***

And now, the Book of the Week. I just ordered three books via Amazon and I've been waiting FOREVER, AMAZON, HURRY UP! But that's basically just to let you all know that I'll totally start picking up the slack on the book blog when Amazon quits getting in my way.

In the meantime, though, my dad has been keeping us up-to-date and recently blogged about this book. So check out his review of "A Delicate Truth" by John LeCarre by clicking here.

***
And now the Video of the Week! I dig the song, I dig the band, I dig the video - that's why I chose it.

Happy Friday, everyone - go out there and live it up this weekend and then tell me all about it on Monday!

How not to go to the beach.

So, now I’m back and can FINALLY tell you all about how I almost got eaten by a shark in my mind.

First of all, it’s important to note that, as an adult, I have spent zero time in the actual ocean. Like, that’s not an exaggeration and I’m pretty sure I’ve never even put a toe in it. So when CB and his Cousin Matt decided it’d be “really fun” for me to join them in the COMPLETELY VIOLENT SEA WATER, I said “No thank you.”

But then I decided that I needed to man up and do it already, and if this is how I was meant to die, so be it.

So I slowly made my way into the deep, treacherous waters, trying to avoid the giant waves that kept crashing towards the shore.

Me: “Um, this is unfun.”
CB: “What? This is awesome! Don’t fight the waves, go under them.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s a negative. I’m not going under the water.”
CB: “Beck, trust me, it’s so much easier to swim under the waves and get beyond them.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but I have no desire to ‘get beyond’ the waves into the even deeper ocean waters!”
CB: “It’s not even up to your waist!”
Me: “It sometimes is AND your waist is higher than mine because you’re taller, so what feels shallow to you is, like, danger-zone for me.”
CB: “I promise I won’t let you drown.”
Me: “Or get attacked by sharks.”
CB: “Or attacked by sharks.”

Then, a giant, vicious wave came towards us and CB yelled “go under!” Which is when my heart stopped, I held my nose, and I went under the wave to meet my maker.  

Shockingly, I resurfaced a few seconds later to laughter.

Cousin Matt: “Did you just hold your nose?”
Me: “Yeah, why? I have to hold my nose when I go under the water.”
CM: “You can’t just not breathe for three seconds?”
Me: “Um, no, and no judgment! I don’t want to die!”
CM: “This is the best show ever.”
Me: “I hate you.”

And then I spent the next 30 minutes or so diving underneath death-waves, holding my nose, gasping for air, and telling CB that I was waiting for the fun to start. Though, to be fair, I did end up having some fun once I got the hang of always feeling like I was about to take my last breathe. Plus, no sea urchins got me, so I consider that a win.

However, the fun didn’t end there. Because the next day we headed down to the beach to get some sun and relaxation, while also taking proper precautions against cancerous sunrays (the beach is really fun, you guys!)

So, using proper beach etiquette, I walked behind the row of chairs to spray on the SPF and stepped on something sharp. Luckily, since I was on sand, I quickly deduced that it was unlikely to be a shark tooth coming through the ground and, instead, was a piece of glass or sharp seashell or something. But whatever, no biggie, I’m a champ.

Until 20 seconds later when I tried to walk on said toe and winced in pain, looked down at my foot, a tiny bit of blood, and a big piece of something sticking out of my big toe.

Of course, since I was with girls who jump into action on a moment’s notice, they immediately waved down the beach patrol guy in a not-at-all embarrassing fashion. I mean, clearly this was likely the biggest emergency he’d seen all summer and they’d probably have to amputate.

So Bryan, the cute-but-too-young Beach Patrol guy, came sprinting over with his medic tool kit thing. (also, I’m calling him Bryan with a “y” because he seemed like a Bryan with a “y” kind of Bryan.)

Me: “Hey there, I’m a good time.”
Bryan, laughing nervously: “What happened?”
Me: “I think I stepped on glass?”
Bryan, looking at my foot: “Yeah, something’s in there, but someone else will have to pull it out because I’m not legally allowed to do that.”
Me: “Because I might have HIV?”
Bryan, laughing nervously: “Um, no…I just can’t, so someone else has to do it and then I can clean it up.”
Me: “Because I don’t have HIV, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Bryan, wishing he wasn’t on duty: “Uh….no…I wasn’t worried….plus, I have gloves.”
Me: “Oh! Then I do have HIV.”

Silence.

Me: “Just kidding. I’m sorry, I joke around when I’m injured. Even though joking about HIV is probably weird."

And just then, like we were in some sort of awesome Nora Ephron-type movie, CB came running down the hill from the house with Neosporin and tweezers. In slow motion in my mind.  

Cousin Nikki: “Look! It’s your Prince Charming!”
Me: “I always assumed my Prince Charming would show up with Neosporin. It just makes sense.”

And then, ever-so-gently, CB proceeded to pull what he thought was glass – but was really just my toe-skin sticking out – really hard until I was like “I think that’s attached!”

Also, do you think maybe the medic should have known the difference between skin and glass? I’m just saying. If you’re given the responsibility of surgical gloves and a Beach Jeep, you should be able to differentiate the two.

Notice that Bryan removed his
gloves in a heroic leap of
faith. 

Anyway, turns out it was a sharp shell or glass and about a millimeter in size or something, but as Bryan said “You were in critical condition when I got here, but now I think you’ll live.” Which made the fact that about 7 people crowded around me to stare at my big toe - and there was, like, no blood or amputation -  a complete Beach Fail.

However, it was a Beach Win overall as I (a) got a tan and (b) had a real-life Baywatch incident happen without having to die in the end. Thanks, Jersey Shore!   

Happy Thursday, everyone! 

No, I didn't get eaten by a shark...

But I AM on a business trip, so you just have to hang on until tomorrow for the real post.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

I'm not laboring today and neither should you.

But I AM posting this picture to tease the blog later this week. This is from my extended trip down the Jersey Shore, which I'll tell you all about in the next post!

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

Shark bite? Or sharp seashell?
Is the suspense killing you??