A Letter to You

 

Dear Reader,

I can’t imagine how you’ve found this wee outpost in webland.  Seriously, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.  My hair’s a mess and I haven’t showered.  You look thirsty.  Can I get you an iced tea or a Diet Rite? No? How ’bout a cookie or a piece of banana cake? Can I interest you in anything at all? Nothing? Alright.  Don’t say I didn’t ask.

Yes, I am in my 30s.  Thanks for noticing.

Yes, I am in my 30s. Thanks for noticing.

Down to brass tacks then, shall we? You know, even though we don’t know each other that well I feel compelled to share a certain something with you.  Come closer.  I really don’t want to say this any louder than necessary.  Umm.  I’ve a wee obsession with the Twilight series.

Rob and his beanie.

Rob and Rob's beanie.

Believe me, it all started innocently enough.  I rented the Twilight movie about a month ago having absolutely no preconceived notions. I was a Twi-virgin so to speak.  Well, I loved the movie.  No, sorry…that’s not accurate.  I thought the movie was charming in a low-budget Party Girl sort of way.  Let’s just say Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen caught my notice in a very Behind the Green Door sort of way.

Since watching the movie I have read the first and second books in the series.  Notice I’ve got only three books at this point.  I’m savoring “Eclipse” at the moment.  One chapter a night, folks.  I’m going to make this shit last.  In addition to reading the books, I am also harboring a pretty major crush on said Mr. Pattinson.  He literally had me at “hello” in that stilted way he says it in the movie.

This basket hasn't moved in four days.

This basket hasn't moved in four days.

So, what’s next when one becomes obsessed with a celebrity? Well, hours of time spent on various websites, of course.  I’ve watched How to Be and The Haunted Airman on YouTube.  Just found The Bad Mother’s Handbook  last night and fell asleep during part 2 of 8 because I’M TIRED, ya’ll.  I spend more time than I’d care to admit on Rob-related sites.  If only my husband knew.  In the meanwhile, I’m having a little trouble getting things done around the house.  Laundry is piling up.  Forget about vacuuming.  I hope the cats learn how to clean their own litter boxes soon.  Cuz it’s getting nasty up in here.

Well, that’s all to confess for now.  Stop by soon if you can stomach the stench!

Love,

Missy

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Ballad of the “Fart Bar”

My husband came home from the store a couple weeks ago with a box of Fiber One bars.  Have you seen these in the stores, kids?

The evil chocolate and oats variety

It's oats & chocolate! It's from the devil.

The experience of eating this bar is not unlike eating a candy bar.  It’s chewy and sweet and covered in a drizzle of chocolate. Plus, each bar has 4 grams of dietary fiber.  That’s pretty good.  Fiber is your friend.  It keeps you “regular”, y’all.

But here’s the thing.  About 3-4 hours after eating one of these bars you’d better hope you aren’t running on a treadmill at the local YMCA when all the fiber (and whatever the hell else is in this devil’s spawn of a food item) decides to start working on your bowels.  What the CRAP, General Mills? I’ve never felt so bad in my life.

So, what to do with the remaining bars? I’ve decided to save the middleman and send the bars back from whence they came.

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The gateway to hell is through a Dora potty seat.

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Why?

Why blog? I’m not sure.  Do you have a blog? Why do you have one?

Why “mothballed”? My husband recently toured a nuclear power plant in Satsop, WA that was abandoned in the early 80s before it was ever operational.  He called it a mothballed nuclear power plant.  I just like the way it sounds.  Plus, I tend to abandon projects before they are complete.  More on that in the future, I’m sure.

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