Today’s RTB day for me, so hop on over there and eavesdrop on a conversation between the husband and I about attending the RWA National conference.
Last night, the news reported “ginormous” has been added to the dictionary, which saddens me greatly. I mean, really, if they keep taking our fun and funky words and making them all official, how boring will that be?
Big Brother 8: Not sure how I feel about having an “America’s Player” yet, but I like the kid they chose for it. Despise Jen. Sick of seeing Amber cry. I like Evil Dick, although I think the producers stifled his potential for outrageousness by throwing his daughter in there with him. Having trouble telling Mrs. Robinson’s league of pretty boys apart. I can’t believe Jessica is allowed to waste space on our overcrowded planet. As for Joe and Dustin…gonorrhea in the first hour must be some kind of record! So far: I miss Evil Doctor Will & Co., but it’s watchable.
Pirate Master: I’m starting to really hate the “triad” and I’m pulling for Nessa to kick some serious ass.
So my husband bought me the cutest little electric weed-whacker—it’s lightweight, quiet and non-smelly—to aid me in my fight to keep my garden/patio area from out rain-foresting the Amazon basin. Apparently he actually expects me to use it. But I think I should recover from cleaning out/off the fridge first—I wouldn’t want to overtax myself—and I told him so. He gave me the look—the look that says I try not to point out you haven’t had to get up and go to work for the last twelve years because we made that decision together, but you’re pushing it here—and thought about picking a fight before he realized I was pushing his buttons. (As a rule my sense of humor is the last thing to wake up, so I rarely push his buttons before 7am.)
Oooh, tomorrow’s Thursday. I should consider a Thursday Thirteen. Maybe I should just find the scrap of paper the one I wrote for last week is scribbled on. Anyway, off to scrub, whack and push some buttons.