Category: Tam


Besides doing homework all weekend, I saw a bunch of movies I had never seen before.

It started with the absolute worst movie I have ever seen in my entire 23 years of life.  It’s some eighties movie my mother picked because she has this thing for Michael Douglas. The movie is called Romancing the Stone.  If you can catch a clip on youtube and want to be appalled, by all means, go ahead and watch it, but I’m telling you- it’s bad.  The storyline is beyond ridiculous, the sound and visual effects were the worst, and I hated every minute of it (and I slept through most of it).

After that, though, I put in No Strings Attached. Now, if you’re thinking that I watched the HBO Special of *NSYNC Live at Madison Square Garden for their No Strings Attached tour, you’d be mistaken.  I do, however, own that, so it wouldn’t be that farfetched. I am actually speaking of the Natalie Portman /Ashton Kutcher RomCom No Strings Attached.  If you haven’t seen it- you must.  It is beyond adorable and while it is completely predictable, it is funny and cute and everything a romantic comedy should be.  I don’t really know how I feel about Natalie Portman. I mean, her performance is fine and I have no qualms about her being in the movie. I just have no thoughts on her, really, on anything she’s ever been in. I just feel so blah about her. But even with that perspective, I loved the movie. It was precious and had heart and made me laugh out loud.

Today, we went to a movie theater that shows movies at a delayed release type of thing. We saw Arthur, the remake.  You know, the one with Russell Brand.  I have seen the original. I own the original and honestly, I really kind of love the original. It’s old and silly but it’s cute and like it.  However, the remake was excellent. It was similar enough to the original to call itself Arthur but it strayed and became its own movie at the same time.  Russell Brand was outrageous and ridiculous but completely perfect for the part.  I even cried a little bit. But mostly I laughed a lot and kept thinking, omg I love this so much and THIS IS SO GOOD!

Finally, the movie marathon that was this weekend ended with Life as We Know It with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel.  Oh, and that hot guy from Sweet Home Alabama, but he has a minor role. It counts. He’s in it. And he’s still hot. Even though I hate Katherine Heigl in real life, I can’t help but love everything she’s in, starting with Wish Upon a Star, that old movie the Disney Channel used to play when I was, like, ten years old.  Anyway, this movie… I don’t even know what to say about it.  I thought it was gonna be just like Raising Helen, which I haven’t seen since it first came out on DVD because it’s too sad… or something. But this one… it’s really, really good.  I laughed, I cried, I knew what was coming but I loved it anyway.

Seriously, any one of these movies, hell, all of these movies (except Romancing the Stone), are worth watching.  I mean, yes, I tend to be easily amused and generally like most movies I see, but I don’t think that should discredit my praise for these RomComs.

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So, I had big plans for this week because I had, like, three consecutive days off from work.  I had biiiiig plans. I was gonna vacuum. And do all my laundry. And actually get ahead in all three of my classes this semester.  I was going to catch up on all of the TV shows I haven’t had time to watch (because I spend all my time either listening to Harry Potter or watching it on DVD (and blu-ray)). I was going to color-code my planner for the next month and really just bask in the glory of all of this Me-Time.

As I previously mentioned, I had some unexpected and extreme neck pain pop up and leave me completely useless.  I wish I could have snapped a pic of what a pathetic baby I looked like, all crooked and in pain.  I would have shared it with you so you could all laugh at me and feel sorry for me.  Because, dude, the pain was so bad. I mean, I wouldn’t liken it to childbirth or anything but it was far more than just a regular crick in the neck.  I mean, this is Day Three of this type of trauma to my body and I just… couldn’t stand it anymore.

After waking up nearly every hour (EVERY HOUR!!) last night because my neck wouldn’t stop hurting let alone allow me to find a comfortable way to sleep, and after finally popping 600mg more of Motrin at 4am, I resigned myself to the fact that I just was going to be tired for the rest of my life.  Finally, at about 7:15, I heard Chiefy Poo getting yelled at.  This was interesting because Mr. Poo Poo Face never gets yelled at.  He just doesn’t get in trouble.  He’s Mama’s little angel and Tam just fawns over him.  It’s almost ridiculous.  But sure enough, this morning, I heard Tam yelling at Poor Baby Chiefy.

“No! Chief! No! You come here! RIGHT NOW!”

I did some weird, highly attractive roll/flop out of my bed and made my way towards the stairs to head upstairs.  But then I turned around to put some pants on. And then I went upstairs to see what Chief had done.  I found him sitting by the front door with his perfect, sad puppy eyes looking up at me and his feet a curious shade of dark brown.  This is interesting because Chiefy is a lovely golden blonde color.

That was about the time Tam pointed to a hole in our yard that was not there yesterday.

I laughed and then grabbed my neck in pain and asked her if she had gotten the very important email I had sent her yesterday.

Lately, I have taken to sending emails to Tam at work with silly words in the subject line, such as “Urgent” or “Very Important” or even “Please Read Immediately!” and then there is a solitary picture of Chief doing something adorable.

For example:

Subject: Important Info.

Chiefy loves his toys!!

And that’s it. That’s all that I put in the emails. Bahahaha She never emails me back.

Yesterday, though, I sent an email where I displayed my true colors.

Subject: Urgent!!!! HIGH PRIORITY!!

Chiefy has been naughty.  He tried to dig up a plant outside my room!

She didn’t email me back.

Obviously, I’m a tattle tail.  But, like, Chief must view me as his equal, and therefore discredit my ability to scold him.  When I asked him just what the fuck he thought he was doing when I interrupted him digging on the dirt off to the side of my patio, he just kinda looked at me like excuse me, you’re interrupting my fun. I guess I’ll just go over here and bark at some geese and then run around the backyard like a maniac. 

So I just said, fine, but I’m telling Mom. And you’re gonna be in big trouble. Or, at the very least, going to miss out on a treat later.

Tam apparently saw the email but quickly forgot about it.  Because she baby’d him the normal amount she always does, so she clearly didn’t mind that the backyard is a mess because this dog likes to dig.

He’s so naughty.

But I love him anyway. In fact, I came up with a new nickname for him today: Chef Salad. I’ll see how it works.

Oh wait. Uhm….

My point was, originally, that I haven’t done all the shit I originally set out to do this week, but my original idea to post kind of got away from me because I got to talking about Chief.  The good news is that I finally went and saw a doctor this morning, so I’m on a strict regimen of Motrin and prednisone for my acute muscle spasm in my neck.  And the lady doctor told me that it’s likely that I carry my stress in my neck- something of which I was already aware.

Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

So, last Friday night, I stayed in and browsed Amazon for movies I wanted.

I know, a real wild night.

Tam and I had been discussing how badly we want to see the remake of Arthur, you know, the one with Russell Brand.  Yeah, it’s a remake of a hilarious yet old movie with Dudley Moore (RIP). She wants to see the remake because she loves the original and thought Dudley Moore was a cutie. I want to see the new one because I think Russell Brand is excellent.  And there’s a Harry Potter reference in the film, so I was pretty much sold based solely on that fact.

I bet you’re wondering what we purchased on Amazon.

Well, we got the original Arthur. For some reason, we no longer owned that movie.

$4.99! Can you believe that?! Sweet baby Jesus, I love Amazon.

And we also purchased Annie.

Can you believe I didn’t previously own Annie?! HOW COULD THAT BE?! SACRE BLEU!! MON DIEU!

Annie is pretty much the first musical, besides Grease, I learned in its entirety. In fact, I remember putting on “shows” with songs from Annie for my parents when I was a wee little one.

I mean, you guys know me; I quote Annie all the time.  There isn’t a week that goes by that “bet my bottom dollar” doesn’t sneak out of my lips.

Carol Burnett is a genius.

Well here’s the highlight of my day: the movies came in the mail today. Win.

Tam and I just watched Arthur and I was a gigglebox the whole time! Now, I have just begun watching Annie, and, while I am definitely enjoying myself, there is one thing by which I am perplexed.

Annie has what I would refer to as a mullet.  She’s got this weird ginger afro that oddly works. But then she’s got these weird, tiny braids that come off the bottom.  What’s that about?

I guess I’ll overlook the mullet and just pretend it’s not there.

What’s your favorite throwback movie? Do you have a thing for musicals like me?? I just don’t think there’s a musical I’ve met that I haven’t loved.

Until my class ends, you’re going to be experiencing really sub-par posts.  I just can’t seem to get a handle on my time-management.  For instance, while I got home today at an hour that allowed for plenty of time to achieve all of the things I needed to complete today, my time management was seriously lacking.

For instance, I meant to go to my gym this morning.  Instead, I slept in until 9:17 am and proceeded to take a thirty minute shower.  Why the hell!? What a waste of water.  And all I did was sing loudly and stand under the hot water until I decided, oh, yeah, maybe I should stop being a life-ruiner and wasting all of this water.   I mean, I didn’t even deep condition my hair, for goodness sake.  Sometimes I justify an excessively long shower by putting on a three-to-five minute conditioning treatment. Or sometimes, I justify it by shaving my legs.  I didn’t do either of those things today. Even though my legs are embarrassingly hairy right now.

Then, because my life is obviously a mess, I went to the doctor’s office to have my blood drawn for another appointment I have next week.  (Nothing major- don’t freak out.) The only thing is, my doctor is an hour away from where I live. Why is that, you might ask? Because I never have my shit together or all my ducks in a row enough to have all of my essential, necessary-for-life things all in one place.  That would be too easy.  So, I listened to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (OH MY GAWD, IT’S SO GOOD! HOW COULD I NOT HAVE READ THIS BOOK AGAIN SINCE 2004- OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!) on CD for, like, 48 minutes because I had a moment of ADD while driving where it was seriously like, zomg I can’t focus on listening right now, I need to sing my face off to some Glee covers right now, in the middle of my trip back to O-Town, but after Pokerface (with the lovely Idina Menzel) I feel I can actively listen to Harry Potter again.

So, then, I panicked in the doctor’s office because I really don’t like needles and blood really freaks me out. (Do we not all remember my bloody nose?!) But, turns out, that procedure takes all of, like, 45 seconds to complete. So I was in and out of that office.

I managed to make it to the library before all 8 or 9 of my items expired and I was hit with some outrageous fees.  I also picked up a few items that were waiting for me (The Office, Season 4; Now that’s what I call Club Hits, and Total Club Hits 2). Before you even ask, I’ll tell you why I wanted some club hits.  It’s because I’ve been trying to perfect my fist-pump so I can rock the clubs like those hooligans from the Jersey Shore.  Bahahaha! No, actually, it’s because those CDs have songs I like that have been remixed to have higher beats per minute.  I’ve been trying to create a kick-ass workout playlist so I don’t want to die when I’m at the gym.

I stopped by the bank after that and transferred some funds for my Study Abroad trip, which I’m so excited for.  Have I told you all about that yet? No? Looks like that will have to come at a later date.

I did have a long, fun lunch with one member of the Tripod, which was glorious. But after that was done, I had to drive another hour back to where I actually live.  I listened to HP the whole way home this time.  I was in a bit of a food coma, so listening was really I was capable of doing anyway.

Next, I wandered around my school trying to locate the stupid Study Abroad office. It is like Narnia or something. I have looked and looked and looked on more than one occasion and I cannot find it.  It is obviously not at all like the Room of Requirement; otherwise it would have appeared to me on one of the few occasions I have been wandering around looking for it.  And don’t tell me to just ask someone, because I totally have.  The yahoos at the information desk either don’t know where it is either or they just don’t know how to effectively communicate to me where the location of the office is.  And the office where I ended up today seemed confounded and didn’t even know where it was or how to explain how to find it to me.  Some lady told me to go to the other end of the building and that Alex’s office was on the left. The left of what?! I walked to the other end of the building and looked like an idiot, wandering around trying to find an office that will not reveal itself to me.

Sucktown, population: me.

Instead, I snuck into my mom’s office, stole one of her envelopes, wrote Alex (the study abroad advisor I have been in contact with) on the envelope along with my name and student number, sealed my first payment check inside and called it good. I told those yahoos at the information desk to just put it in his mailbox.

Then I came home, and that’s where time got away from me.  One minute I was listening to my club hits and then I got a text message about a theme day at work tomorrow, Major League Baseball.  I don’t even know what that means.  I guessed that that meant I should wear something to do with the Detroit Tigers because that’s baseball.  But then I realized I, of course, do not own anything that is Tigers- related, and I won’t just not participate in theme days. I love theme days! So you can bet your bottom dollar I went out and bought a Tigers shirt that was somewhat cute- and it was 25% off to boot!

But, because we live in the middle of BFE, it takes like 40 minutes to get anywhere. So that was a giant waste of time- except for the fact that I got to listen to Harry Potter again so it wasn’t that big of a waste.

I stumbled upon a website called Tastefully Offensive, and that was a giant time-suck.  I just kept watching video after video and giggling to myself on the couch.  I had every intention of editing a group project paper, but that didn’t start until about 8 o’clock, and it was much bigger of a task than I had originally thought. So now, I’m writing this post at the last possible second and it’s all about crap you don’t care about. And my contacts are starting to stick to my eyes and I really just want to be in my bed watching Twilight or The Office or something.

So, yeah.

kaythanksloveyougoodnightbye!

I am 36 minutes into the film Tangled.

I’ve been giggling like an idiot.

Tangled came out on DVD (and Blu-Ray- if you’re into that. We have one but I tend to forget about it….) today and you better believe I bought it.  I went straight to Target today (after I took a two hour nap, put gas in my car and remembered it was Tuesday) and purchased it. It was the only thing I bought. And let’s get real: there are at least 42 things at Target that I can easily convince myself into thinking I need on any given trip. Like, how one time I dropped 82 dollhairs and I couldn’t even explain what I bought without looking at my loot. But, alas, I practiced some self control.

It doesn’t even matter that I’m 23 years old and still have a deep, deep love for Disney movies.  Don’t hate. You know you have the same love that I do.

Speaking of Disney movies, I found something on the internet the other day that I simply MUST share with you.  It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.

Oh wait, that wasn’t the Disney thing I wanted to show you but it is worth sharing anyway.  I watch that video of those precious, little red pandas, like, every day and just giggle my face off. The music… it’s perfect. Good lord, I can’t get enough.

Okay, guys, here’s the Disney thing I wanted to show you.

It’s been floating around the internet for a while but I stumbled upon it the other day and immediately put that shit on facebook.

My love of Disney may make me seriously consider skipping the season finale of Teen Mom 2 tonight. And by seriously consider I mean I will skip the finale and finish watching Tangled in one sitting. Because, damn it, I’ve waited since Christmastime for this movie to be on DVD so I could see it again. And because I love Mandy Moore. And because I really don’t want to get up off the couch to get the remote to flip over to TV and turn on MTV.

What? My legs hurt.  I got my Fergie on today (“…workin’ on my fitness”).

Also, next time I’m drunk enough to humiliate myself and a) not care and/or b) not remember, I’m gonna use this: Somebody get me a glass ‘cause just found me a tall drink of water!

All I wanted to do was sneak by Stella and try to use food against her; a form of trickery used to entice her into interacting with Chief.

She was hovering at the inside staircase and, not wanting to disturb her, I thought I’d ninja my way downstairs using the other set of stairs. Only, when I tried to go in the garage and have Chiefy follow me (so Tam could talk Stella into coming into the kitchen), Chiefy wouldn’t come with me. He hovered at the top step and stopped. He gave me a look that said, “No fucking way, crazy lady.”

It was only when I saw the following when I realized that he was really saying “Kate, something is not right. There is a critter in my food bin. And it looks like it might want to kill you.”

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!!!

I hopped back into the house and tried to catch my breath.

There’s a fucking possum in Chief’s food! A POSSUM!! Oh my god, Mom, what do we do?!

Remember that time I talked about how I do not possess grace under fire? Yeahhhhh.

My first instinct was to find the camera while Tam poked her head out the door, armed with the swiffer. “Oy!” she yelled and then slammed the door.

I burst into laughter while she walked back into the kitchen, trying to think of what to do.

Oy? That’s your go-to?! I don’t think possums speak Yiddish!

I could not stop laughing.

But then we got serious: What the fuck do we do?!

I was against calling animal/critter control because I am under the assumption that they come to get the animal and then kill it. I swear to the heavens that the “technician” would just tell me they weren’t going to kill it but once they take it away, they totally do kill it. That’s not okay with me. I may not want it in my dog’s food bin and so close to the entrance to my home, but I do want it to be able to find its babies and significant other and live a long, healthy life in the wild.

I’m that person that cried when I ran over a squirrel on accident. I shooed a giant-ass spider out of my room and into the cool October air using a page I ripped out of Cosmo magazine because I couldn’t bring myself to kill it. I just can’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of that little so-ugly-it’s-cute creature being put to death just because it was hunting for food.

That’s like killing Aladdin.

Not everyone can be so lucky as to marry a princess in Agrabah.

So, Tam called our old neighbor, a close family friend who came to the rescue all the other times we had weird animal issues. You know, like that time we came home from London the first time to find a duck was trapped in our chimney. We tried her first suggestion: make a lot of noise. Tam banged some pots and pans together while I let Nikki talk me into contacting Animal Control because she told me that her husband said Animal Control doesn’t kill the animals they capture.

The local office was closed and the lady answering the 1-800 number calls wanted to take my information to have a “technician” call me in the morning. I was like, “Uhm, lady, I don’t want this possum in my garage with my dog’s food all night long. I’ll figure something else out. I’ll just wing it. Thanks anyway.”

I poked my head out one more time.

This little critter had to go.

That’s when shit got real.

We both put boots on, zipped ourselves into our coats and found the thickest gloves we could find.  Tam, armed with a broom this time, tried to ninja herself past the possum and sneak attack by putting the lid to the food bin back on.  It didn’t work out as planned.  I stood, like a pansy, at the door, narrating the possum’s thoughts out loud. You know, like that’s really helpful. But when the possum showed his scary teeth and started hissing, I shut the door and whined. I opened the door again and watched as Tam tried again to put the top on.

Success!!

With the lid safely on the bin, we could begin the move down the driveway. We carried the bin filled with dog food and possum all the way down the driveway and across the street, to a nice snow bank near a bundle of trees.  The plan was that we would dump the food and the possum out of the bin and then run back towards the house.  Things went according to plan in the sense that I ran like hell through the puddles of melted snow back to the house. But I realized that Tam was still back there, with the bin of food, the snow bank and the possum.  A moment later, I saw her walking towards me with the empty bin in hand.  She had surrendered the lid and the scoop used to measure Chief’s food to the possum.

We’re gonna go see if the possum has decided to give us the lid back.

Wish us luck!

Every weekend Tam takes Chief to Petsmart.

And every weekend I hear about how much fun Chief has at Petsmart, and how everyone who sees him just falls in love with him, and how Chief makes all kinds of puppy friends. Basically everyone has a good fucking time and I miss out.

So you can bet your bottom dollar that when I saw that I had this past Saturday off from work, I was like GUESS WHAT FUCKERS! WE’RE GOING TO PETSMART!

But we didn’t get to go to Petsmart until after I went to my group meeting for my Finance class. BUT OH WAIT. While my group meeting had been set for 10:30am at the library at school, guess who was the only one there at 10:30am at the library at school. THIS GIRL. The first dude showed up at like 11:15am, the next one strolled in at 11:40am, and the last one finally came at, like, noon. WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT PART OF 10:30AM DID THEY NOT UNDERSTAND?! AND LET IT JUST BE KNOWN: I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO SET THE TIME FOR THE MEETING! MR. 11:40 DID!

JFEHE8HFEUWDPIHFUDISAFKJDSLHAI UGHHHHHHHH!!!

Anyway, that is neither here nor there.

I just counted to ten so we could calmly and rationally move on with the Petsmart story. Because I know you’re dying to know what happened.

When we pulled in the parking lot, I was still coming down from the trauma I had experienced when Tam sneak-attacked me by taking us through the carwash. Chief was cool as a cucumber through the whole ordeal but, as always, I was a basketcase. Despite the trauma, I can’t even tell you how excited I was. It was all, yes! I finally get to see Chiefy in his puppy play place!

Puppies!!

We were not inside for three minutes before he and Tam made a bee-line for the puppies to be adopted. There were two of the cutest twinsies I had ever seen! They were lab/Australian shepherd puppies and they were 12 weeks old and precious.  Chiefy knew them from his visit last week and they sniffed each other and wiggled through the cage that separated them.

Chiefy was very, very busy and, after saying hello to his puppy mates, he decided it was time to take a look at some toys and maybe pick out a bone or two.  We sniffed out the bones but they didn’t have the kind Tam likes to buy for him so then we went to investigate the section where they had those little booties they have for pets so their feet don’t get cold in the winter. Chief tried on one but it didn’t go so well. That was when we heard all kinds of commotion coming from the twin pups.

When we made our way back towards the puppies, I saw that one was being held and one was still stuck in the cage. I immediately knew what was happening. A husband and wife duo, along with their nine year old son, was adopting only one of these precious puppies.

ONLY ONE!!

The puppy in the cage was wailing and crying. The little boy knew that this puppy was facing some hard times, and he crawled in the cage to try to comfort him. Before I knew it, giant crocodile tears were cascading from my eyes and I couldn’t even pretend something was wrong with my contacts.  I quickly got Tam’s attention and told her we were either taking that extra puppy home or we needed to get the fuck out before I A) ripped that puppy from that woman’s arms and put it back in the cage with its sibling, or B) screamed at her and told her it was cruel of her to only be bringing one of them home.

We got the fuck out.

I was in the middle of a full-blown meltdown by the time we got in the car. I couldn’t stop crying even though I was embarrassed and desperately wanted to not be sobbing over the fact that a puppy didn’t get adopted that day. In fact, I cried the whole twenty minutes it took to get home.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Tam said, “you can’t come to Petsmart anymore.”

I think that’s probably for the best.

So in case you live under a rock, there was a giant snowstorm that hit Michigan (and some other places too) this week.  As far as I know, it was pretty much one giant snowday.

While it seemed like every school and place of business had waved the white flag of defeat at the snow and Mother Nature, I just had a feeling that the Bank would say a big Eff You to all of it and open at our normal time.

There had been big talk about this Snopocolypse 2011. The National Weather Service had been issuing alerts and shiz since Monday- or maybe even before. I only heard the Blizzard of Oz was on its way because it seemed like every single one of my customers was asking me if I was ready for the snowstorm. I just pretended I knew what any of them were talking about. I had heard estimates of Snowmageddon, ranging from 12 to 16 inches. Holy shit that’s a lot of snow.

But I’m no idiot.

I am no longer that hopeful child, praying to the Snow Gods for a snowday. I’m not that middle schooler who purposely “forgot” to do her “homework” because she was holding out hope for the elusive snowday.  Ohhh, no. I am no longer an innocent.

I’m a realist, bitches.

With all this talk of Snotorious B.I.G., I was sure it wouldn’t come. I was sure we would see maybe six inches of snow. I was sure that all of those dickholes who were already celebrating the forthcoming snowday were celebrating prematurely. I guess the joke would have been on me since snowdays had already been called but still. Everyone else got to celebrate and I didn’t. I didn’t get to celebrate because I knew the Bank would not close. Not for anything. Not even for Snotorious B.I.G.

I mean, I wasn’t due into work at 12:15 pm so I figured that would give me plenty of time to hang out and wait for those six inches of snow I was predicting to be cleared.

I got a call at 7:30 am from my boss saying that the Bank would be opening at 11am rather than our regular 9 am. That was when I thought that maybe Snotorious B.I.G. had made an appearance.

After that first phone call, I slipped out of bed and poked my head around the blinds on my sliding glass door. Holy shit. We got a fuck-ton of snow.

Weather is voodoo magic and shouldn’t be fucked around with. Meteorologists are overpaid slackers. They don’t know shit.

I should have known when I was woken up by the sound of Thundersnow & Lightning. Awesome and totally outrageous. Talk about snOMG!

I shit you not, there is currently a three-foot drift right outside my bedroom.

At ten o’clock, my boss was on a call with our market team trying to assess the situation and to figure out if and/or when we should open our branch.

Long story short, the Bank didn’t open.

Hallelujah!! Snow. Day.

The only thing was that we were asked to provide updates on the roads and weather situation in our area.  My first update was that while we had managed to dig out our driveway (despite the fact that we have a plow service come every day to clear off our driveway), our roads hadn’t been plowed and there was a sheet of ice under all the snow. That was when I had a really good idea.

And by really good idea I mean terrible and completely dim-witted.

I actually managed to convince my mother to venture out into the frozen tundra.  You know, to be able to provide accurate updates on our road and weather conditions. Dude, I was doing my job.

Needless to say, we got stuck in the snow.

Tam’s cute little hybrid Saturn Vue couldn’t handle all the snow.  We even took the long way home after the first time we got stuck. And after we got stuck the second and third time. The last time, though, it was a situation too big for us to handle ourselves.

I called AAA to have them help us.  We were stuck in a biiiiiig way, and we needed some serious help. But, uhm, AAA can S my D because they would not help us. Apparently, because one of the roads were were stuck on (oh yeah, we were stuck in an intersection, lol) wasn’t plowed, they were going to have to refuse service.

Fuck that.

Her suggestion was that we notify the authorities that we were stuck and have them help us. Or just wait for our roads to be plowed.

Uhhhhm, fuck that.

So I not-so-nicely thanked the lady on the phone and then started my trek home.

The good news was that we were weren’t all that far from home.

By the time I got back to the car (after longest walk of my life) with a shovel to dig the car out, Tam was already being helped by two men who had two large vehicles. Oh, the joys of having really nice neighbors!

The man with the giant SUV had pulled Mom out of the snow she was stuck in and the man in the giant truck was driving through the snow to make tracks for us so we wouldn’t get stuck again.

Finally, we got home and we both kicked off our boots (or, actually, tam wore Target-brand slipper/clog/fuzzy weird shoe things while I had worn boots). Then we stripped off our pants, tossed ‘em into the dryer and crawled into our respective beds to get warm again.

All in a day’s work.

I read somewhere that the average four-year-old asks, like, 400-something questions a day.

That’s amazing.

I’m not saying that I’m a four-year-old, but I think I ask something close to that.

I just wonder a lot of things.

For instance, I had lunch with my mother today, and I had at least ten questions just about our lunch.

Before you get all “you’ve said that before!” on me, I just want to let you know I don’t really care if I repeat myself. It’s my blog, I can do what I want. And if that means tell you something repeatedly, then so be it! Anyway, let me please reiterate that my mom has this thing about having her ipod headphones in her ears at all times. Usually, she has one of her stupid audiobooks playing at the same time, but you can bet your bottom dollar there’s no way she’s actually listening to her book the entire time her headphones are in. I tried audiobooks. It’s hard to pay close attention. It’s like someone is constantly talking to you and you can’t zone out ever because you’ll miss part of the story and have to just nod and pretend you know what’s going on. Okay, so it’s really no different than sitting in class in college and listening to lecture, or having to listen to some bullshit story from someone you don’t really care about, or someone who just rambles about nothing and expects you to pay attention. Hey, that’s you. Start paying attention again. I’m actually going to get back on track again.

Ugh. ADD. Anyway!

She had her headphones in while she was making lunch and not listening to me talk about how I had just finished the very last episode ever of The West Wing on DVD. Because she wasn’t listening to me, I decided I’d snuggle up to Chiefy on the floor and tell him about it. Sometimes when I do this, she will actually be listening to what I say to the pets- like that time I sat in one of the teal recliners in the living room with Stella in my lap and I sang to her for five minutes, nothing you’d know because it was one I made up as I went. Or like that time I told Tag to get a job one day. Or when I busted my ass on the kitchen floor and bruised the whole right side of my body because I dared Tag that I would be able to jump straight onto a stepstool on the hardwood floor (I’m dumb.) and it clearly didn’t turn out right because I knocked the wind out of myself when I missed the stepstool and fell.

When we finally sat down to lunch, I had already been yammering up a storm, and every time I paused where she was supposed to respond, she always looked lost in our conversation. It’s really irritating to have to battle that in every single conversation, so I requested that she remove her headphones because I had some serious business to talk about.

When you eat tomato soup, does it feel like you are just eating hot ketchup?

Is tomato soup really made of just tomatoes?

How come I like ketchup but hate real tomatoes?

Who invented grilled cheese sandwiches?

Who invented putting grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup?

When you wear your fur coat, do you think about how you could be offending people around you?

Are you supposed to eat crackers with tomato soup?

Are you going to eat these crackers?

Why did you get them out?

Why do I hate Ritz crackers? The Townhouse crackers I do like are pretty similar to Ritz crackers, so don’t you think that’s weird?

Danielle brought animal crackers to work yesterday. Have you had animal crackers recently?

I eat the heads and legs off first. Is that how you eat them?

Did you know that the average four-year-old asks something like 400 questions per day?

Apparently, that last one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Granted, she did make a joke about me being a four-year-old since I had literally just spent the entire time we were sitting and eating asking her completely superfluous questions. Even so, she finished her grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, put her headphones back in, told me to finish up, and then took a nap as she waited for the dishwasher-repair man to come to our house.

I bet I have those four-year-olds beat. I ask a shit-ton of questions every day. That’s not even including all the questions I have to ask at work because it’s a function of my job.