Man, did my husband smell good when he left for camping.
Should I be worried that he put on aftershave before going up to an All-Man Weekend?
I have no plans this weekend, other than trying to reassure the cat. Actually, I take that back’ I’m going to work on freelance stuff, but other than that, no plans except sleeping and editing. I may actually make it out to the farmer’s market again, which I haven’t done since I bragged about going to every farmer’s market since they opened.
Hubris. I should know better.
Interesting development at work: I lost my sweet double-wide workstation in the corner for an actual cube with ass-side exposure into the department. Hate. The hate. However, because God never closes a door without opening a window (When did this turn into Chicken Soup for the Bloggers soul?), I also am far far away from the Annoying Coworker. Sweet peace and quiet. It’s so quaint, this ability to work without distractions. However, she still comes to visit and then says “ya put more blonde in yer hair, dincha?”. No, actually, I dinch, and shouldn’t you be at your desk?
I know that I am a postmodern woman (which is to say that my left foot is a cockroach and my keyboard has just ejaculated (Ahhh! English majors around the internet are laughing mightily right this minute)) and shouldn’t A) be so boy crazy half the time because hello, married B) be so transfixed by the taut abs of undercover geek boy Vin Diesel C) spend so much time kissing my poster of Russell Crowe in his gladiator costume or D) all of the freaking above.
Vin Diesel. I said it. I have shame, don’t get me wrong. That sloping brow. The random violence in his movies. The way he smells the women in the Riddick movies. Oh my god, the cramps, but I can still get all giggly over Vin Diesel.
Apparently I don’t giggle. I giggled last night on the phone and my friend Jake was all ‘Are you giggling? That’s the second time. You did it before too. What are you on?’ Nothing but Advil, mon ami. And Oreos.
When I’ve watched previous Vin Diesel movies, I could make noises that I didn’t really WANT to watch the Vin Diesel movie. I was just being altruistic. Esteban really wanted to watch Vin Diesel for whatever reason and therefore being a supportive wife, I too would watch Vin Diesel. And also exhale with a soft tremble when he takes his shirt off. But this new movie, The Pacifier? Esteban has no interest in The Pacifier.
I have invited my six-year-old niece over for pizza and movie night with Auntie Weet. Heh. That was a close one.
Don’t forget to register for Journalcon!
