I Want To Make One Thing Clear - As Soon As I Figure Out What That Thing Is....

If you have children, you probably remember your pre-child days and wonder, "What did I do with all that time before these pure id little versions of me came along?"  (Id [Freudian] - the "me me me me" part of your personality that is the center of your known universe, the "Fuck you, world!  I want a popsicle NOW!" part.)  That's sort of how I feel about life after Facebook, only in reverse.  Where did I find all that time to care about whether 300 of my closest friends were out of peanut butter, or out of their minds?  I haven't found a few spare minutes to spend on - hold onto your mom jeans - pinterest.  I haven't even found time to blog lately, and all these thoughts trapped in my head are building pressure.  I've been having all these memories (flashbacks) lately - of the time I ate over a pound of calf fries before I knew what they were, the time I had to prep calf fries to be cooked (*Skip this explanation if you're squeamish - Prepping calf fries involves washing the bull testicles, cutting and peeling off the skin, re-washing, and then butterflying them like shrimp.), and also the time I got attacked by Clark Smith's goat.  Goats are relentless bitches.

So I've felt the need to go shopping lately, not because I like shopping (which I totally hate), but because I'm tired of wearing only yoga pants and tank tops/t-shirts.  I deserve more from my wardrobe.  Since I have a loathing of all things retail, and since I have precious little time to devote to something like shopping, I decided to do it online.  Remembering my affection for Forever 21, I logged on to their website only to be greeted with my wardrobe from 20 years ago.  Wtf, Forever 21?!  Cutoff mom jeans and sailor stripe middies?  Put that with a Debbie Gibson hat, and there you have my old closet.  Shaken, but not yet ready to admit that I'm getting old (past my electric youth), I headed via modem to Charlotte Russe.  Damn.  These clothes were plucked from my 20-year-old closet as well.  Reluctantly, I logged on to kmart.com, and jackpot!  Oh, hell.  I am old.  UPS, my big, brown Santa Clause, should be delivering my order today.  Color me excited!
*Update - My clothes arrived, and I LOVE them.  I quickly put on my favorite outfit out of the lot, and my husband told me I looked like a farm girl.  So?

Happy me in my new Kmart farm shirt.

I LOVE music - music of all kinds (unless it's whiny country, and then you're on your nasally own, even if every damn light in your house is on).  My favorite artists include Dave Matthews Band, Mumford and Sons, Michael Buble, Skankin Pickle, Sister Hazel, Tristan Prettyman, Blues Traveler, Don Henley, Coldplay, just to name a few.  I could go on for hours, but honestly, who wants to read that?  One of my favorite songs is "Drive" by The Cars.  I think that my affection for this tune is owed, in no small part, to the irony of it.  Who else would sing a song called "Drive?"

In unrelated news, I was bitten by a flying ant today.  I was bitten by several normal ants this week too, which sucks because I'm way allergic, but the flying ant seemed especially unfair.  Hey, let's take something terrible, but mostly avoidable, and give it wings!  Evolution, you're a dick.

That is all.