Best Diet Ever

Cripes, what’s new?

The other day on Flickr I accidentally posted a picture of my ta tas, so that was fun. Don’t bother looking over there now, perverts, I deleted it, but not before half of Mr. E’s family saw it. Awesome! Whatever. We live in California now, they’re lucky I even wear clothes. Peace and free love and hits from the bong and all that, man, you know.

PS I am not really doing bong hits right now, I totally promise. I am way way way waaaaaaay too uptight to do any kind of drugs and I canceled my subscription to High Times many years ago, if you get my drift. I am also so boring that I rarely drink. Well, maybe it’s not that I am too boring to drink, I think it’s more like my rampant ADD gets in the way of me actually drinking enough for it to matter. Sometimes I feel like I could really use a drink and I’ll pour myself a glass of wine or a nice vodka tonic and then I’ll have two sips of it and get distracted by laundry or the J Crew catalog or the internets and I’ll put the glass down somewhere and forget about it and that’s that. Most of the time Mr. E ends up drinking whatever I end up leaving lying around. Pretty much the only thing he ever cleans up is left over wine. Nice.

We’re going back to look at the tiny midget house on Thursday. I’m going to bring my measuring tape so I can measure the hall nook area thingee and if my $50 table from Target fits in there I’m totally taking it as a sign. For some reason I am unconcerned about buying a house with only two bedrooms or whether or not there’s a spot for a tv in the living room. My main concerns are actually whether or not there’s going to be a spot for all the crap we have in our bathroom and whether or not my Target hall table will fit in the hallway and yes, I am prepared to make a gajillion dollar decision based totally around furniture from Target.

In all fairness, it is a really nice $50 table.

I also just found out that the person who owns the house we are talking ourselves into and out of on an hourly basis is kind of a total pain in the ass, so that should be fun.

I guess because Dooce went on some crappy morning show we’re all having the conversation about mommybloggers again and whether they suck or whether they are awesome or whether we hate them or love them or blah blah blah. These conversations really don’t interest me because I could care less, pretty much, other than the fact that the term “mommy” anything makes me want barf, but also because honestly, I don’t give a shit what label you put on yourself or what you write about. If you’re funny and interesting and you’re a good writer, I’ll read your blog, and I don’t care if you have ads or pictures of your kids or if you have a partial feed or you write about woodchucks or going to prison or taking pictures of flowers or whatever. I just don’t care.

I never once thought about not writing about my child because I write about my life and he’s part of my life, and honestly if he is someday horrified by my blog, well, he can get in line. I write for one reason and one reason only, and that’s because I have these words in me and if I don’t get them out something inside me dies. That’s it. So who cares about the rest, really? I certainly do not.

Also, assuming we crack the facade of this bizitch who owns the house we might buy and assuming my coffee table fits, is it shady for me to dig up the dahlias I planted when we moved into this house and bring them with me and replant them? I’ve been coaxing these bastards along for two years and they’re finally coming into their own and also I will be so poor (see house payment) I won’t be able to afford anything else to plant in the front yard and I need to impress my future neighbors so they don’t hate me and so I can foist my child off on them and go to the movies.

Stress makes me feel really sick to my stomach and my appetite goes to hell. Buying a house has turned out to be the best diet ever. I just threw out!!!! two thirds of an ICE CREAM SANDWICH. I know. I know! Sign of the apocalypse, right here.

I ordered that Mario Badescu drying lotion business after my skin decided to just totally completely freak out last weekend. I had to take some kind of action, and the kind with the credit card is the kind I am best at. I expect to hate it, but I’ll let you know.

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8 Responses

  1. Wow, I completely feel you on the blogging thing. I just don’t get why there are so many negative connotations with writing online. Who really cares, for the most part no one is forcing their blog on unsuspecting internet users so why the fuss??

    And in regards to the Dahlias, that is a tough one. Being in the real estate industry I know that you should disclose that you are removing some of the landscaping. But from a seller standpoint you really should make sure that you don’t leave gaping holes in your yard where your beautiful flowers used to be.

    Oh and not only measure, but try to do a quickie sketch of the room w/ those dimensions so that you can attempt to place furniture. And don’t forget to note where the cable and phone hookups as well as outlets are b/c that can affect where the tv goes too. I found before our last move that it was really helpful to measure our big furniture items so that when we walked into the master bedroom we would be able to gauge right away whether our stuff would fit. Your mind can really distort things from the time you first see the house and the time you get home to start assessing things. It is best to not even give yourself a chance to start putting that huge sofa on the half wall with the only cable hookup in the house, you know?

  2. Speaking from personal experience, you may just get into a house and then find that shit doesn’t fit anyway. We knew the house we bought was smaller but over the weekend, the hubs and I got into fight over the fact that there is only ONE way that the living room can be situated because he simply would not come to grips with the fact that it is as small as it is. Realism isn’t his strong suit apparently.

    I love the closets in this house and our bedroom is super cool, the high ceilings and the yard but we so gave up A LOT in the living room and kitchen and sometimes I have a little pout about it.

  3. Take the Dahlias with you! Hoping your table fits and you crack the bitch!

  4. You should plant the dahlias in the yard of evey house you live in.

  5. Don’t bother looking over there now, perverts, I deleted it, but not before half of Mr. E’s family saw it.

    My dad flipped out over the before-and-after pictures I posted on my blog of me in a bikini when I reached 60 pounds lost. He gave me huge lecture about pimply teenage stalkers and the dangerz of teh internets and he even used the phrase “My Spaces.” I’m not kidding. I ended up deleting the post just so he’d shut up about it. I can’t even imagine what his reaction would have been if there’d been a nipple slip in there, too.

    yes, I am prepared to make a gajillion dollar decision based totally around furniture from Target.

    I bought my house because it had beveled glass French doors. Never mind the rest of it which was totally sketchy, those doors did me in from the moment I stepped inside. So I completely understand.

  6. This is a great post! I, too, hate the mommy label. Ick.

    I think that your Target table and the size of its potential new home is a perfectly valid concern. You have to have some criteria for home selection, and if it revolves around a $50 table; well, then that’s probably one really cool table.

    Also, it is totally NOT shady for you to take your dahlias. Dig ’em up! Just maybe fill in the holes with dirt before you go….

  7. I cannot believe you will not let us look at those pictures.

    Also, before I was a mommyblogger I was a mommytechnician. And before that, a mommybaker. My husband is a daddyprogrammer.

  8. I want to tell you that you can take the flowers but I’m not sure its legal.

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