That moment when....

...you realize that your photo will be appearing on www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com courtesy of your too-kind roommate who submitted it for you after the Father's Day Family Photo of 2013.

So, my family recently went gallivanting up the East coast of the United States and left me home to babysit the 210,482,084 animals they own and my 19 year old sister. It really wasn't a bad set up since everyone, including my sister, was fairly self sufficient other than the occasional request for food or going out.

Upon their return they brought a few of my favorite things.... presents! Excitedly I opened the brown paper packages tied up with string and found... this:

 

Objects in mirror are indeed as ridiculous as they appear.

No, no, I didn't find a picture of myself OR a mirror showing me how darn beautiful I look... I found a shirt that resembles the classic Dr.Seuss "Thing 1 and Thing 2" theme, only of course, stating "Trouble 1." Very funny. The gift came with the request that I wear it on Father's Day (along with the matching ones my other sisters received.) I chuckled for a moment before realizing that this request was not, in fact, a joke. With an ever so cheerful smile I agreed, thus sealing my fate to remain dateless until the year 2042 when I will undoubtedly have to settle for a balding dental hygienist whose idea of a good time is dusting his creepy puppet collection while I read him the tale of Pinocchio and he wishes his little wooden dolls to become "real boys and girls."

So here it is.. Happy Father's Day Dad, I hope you enjoy caring for me until the age of 45 and may you accept my new husband Gepetto as part of the family, puppet children and all.

There I am, just days away from 26 wearing a Dr. Seuss themed outfit for my family's amusement.

People are scary

So I have a really irrational fear of running into people while I'm outdoing mundane things. I know, you're thinking.. "That's ridiculous, Michelle, people aren't scary." But, they are. Really. As this seems to be happening to me way more often than I'd like lately, I've been analyzing the situation and there are really 4 categories of people you can run into while you're out. For those of you with OCD problems, I've ordered them in a list ranging from completely terrifying situations to totally non-threatening ones. You're welcome.

1. Serial Killers / Thugs / Gangsters / Ex-Friends / Ex-Boyfriends 

Obviously, these are members of the scariest groups of people to run into. You don't follow them on Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, or Tumblr and you certainly are NOT Facebook friends, in fact they are probably on your blocked list. Sure you might google them from time to time but it doesn't mean you want to set up a Tee time and have a brewski. Likely, you're just hoping to find an embarrassing mug shot to pass around to your friends and family.These are always the people you run into at the most impossible and inconvenient moment ever. You know, after your 3 hour power workout as your dripping sweat in the McDonald's line (don't even pretend you've never done that, stop judging). Or, better yet, on that 11:30pm trip to Walmart while in your Tweety Bird jammie's to buy Ben & Jerry's and Chex mix. No, I don't in fact want to talk to you and chances are you feel the same way so my hope is that we both pretend not to see each other and walk the other way. However, my luck is rarely that good.

2. Facebook Oversharers / Medical Professionals / Friends You Haven't Seen in a Long Time

This group, while slightly less terrifying to run into, still aren't people you would go out of your way to see. They are people who either know too much about you or you know too much about. Maybe it's that one friend on Facebook you can't bear to delete because her constant crazy status updates give you a laugh on a bad day, even if they are more annoying than a thousand hormonal pre-teens watching the Titanic for the first time. Better yet, it's your lady-doctor who has seen your business way up close and personal and you just know that she's silently judging you. More than likely, it's a friend you haven't laid eyes on in ten years, but really? What is there to say? I mean, I know you just bought a new car that's pink to match your Vera Bradley bag, but I only know that because I spent too much time clicking through your pictures in Instagram. It's just awkward and meeting these people unexpectedly makes me want to take an anxiety pill.

3. Current Friends / Jonas Brothers / Adam Levine 

I don't even feel like I need to explain this one, but I will because otherwise you might stop reading. These are people that when you see them at pump number 3 at the Mobil station and you are on pump number 42 (it's a large gas station, okay..) you will scream their names until they notice you and then you will run to each other for a giggly hugging-jumping reunion even if you just saw them 20 minutes ago at lunch. I mean, when I see my favorite coworker Jessica unexpectedly at work during the day, I am downright  giddy, so just imagine what it would be like out in public. And as for celebrities, obviously we hang out in places that they frequent, Sweet Tomatoes, Publix, Burger King.. So we have had tons of experience with those kinds of run ins. (Word of advice, they don't quite understand the hugging-jumping reunion, but just keep doing it.. Eventually they give in so you'll stop.)

4. Total Strangers / Stray Kittens / Family Members

These are the members of your world that you are pretty indifferent to when out in public. You'll acknowledge them, if needed, especially if the kitten looks hungry or you think you can swindle mom into paying for half your groceries. These people are pretty non-threatening and are the least of my worries when running errands.

So there you have it, a look at the inner workings of my mind. I apologize if I've recently run into you and acted less than sociable, it really is the stuff of nightmares for me. Much like my students who believe I sleep in my classroom, I like to maintain an air of mystery.. Does she ever grocery shop? Will she be getting gas this week? Is she buying enormous amounts of pizza from Little Caesars? The world may never know. 

You're not old enough to be a cowboy, baby

                                              

So, I'm trolling about Pinterest, as I often do on the couch, when I came across this picture of a baby dressed as a cowboy..

Well, I use the term "dressed" loosely. Whatever, maybe he's related to the Naked Cowboy in New York.

  Naturally I had to show it to Lindsey and get her thoughts. This is the conversation that followed: 

Michelle: Hey, look at this cute cowboy baby.

Lindsey: Why is he naked? And in a barn?

M: I don't know, because he's a cute baby.

L: Where are his parents? Why is he carrying a rope? Why doesn't he have shoes on?

M: I think you're missing the point. He's a cute baby, kind of dressed like a cowboy.

L: (Anxious look) That rope is touching his tushey, I don't know... I just don't like it. I don't like the idea of my baby wandering around naked in a barn on a farm.

It is troublesome that the rope is touching his tushey. Also that he has no shoes in a barn. I'm no farmer, but I don't think that's the safest idea. Although my spuddy senses are telling me this is probably not a real barn, so it might be okay. I personally don't think I would do this to my kid.. but I also never thought I'd drink wine out of a tervis tumbler or dance with a sombrero on my head in a public restaurant. Sometimes people do weird things.

Weigh in on the debate: Yee-haw or Naw to Cowboy Baby?

Just because she's your roommate, doesn't mean she won't leave you to die.

I mean it. Just because you scour the couch for quarters together around the first of every month or eat each others leftover to-go food when it looks delicious and you are out of grocery money does not in fact mean that you have an unbreakable bond or commitment to one another in the case of a real life (non) emergency situation.

Exhibit A: Killer frog on the stairs

When I was a smallish child my mother decided it would be great to play a joke on me involving a frog. It went a little something like this...

Me: Oh look, Mommy, a frog!

My Mother: Maybe you should take a closer look..

Me:*steps closer, foolishly*

My Mother: *startles said frog with her keys making it attack my leg with the viciousness of 12 rabid squirrels*

(There may be a slight exaggeration in how I am remembering this)

Anyways, I don't particularly care for frogs since that fateful day, but I've mostly gotten over the night terrors. Apparently Lindsey isn't too keen on them either because at the first sighting of one on our apartment stairway, she all but threw me in front of her and ran the other way in order to save herself. This was an ordinary frog, mind you, not some Amazonian poisonous dart frog with the ability to steal your soul. I can only imagine what she would do if we encountered one of those. Good thing we will never find out because we couch potatoes are not fans of the Amazon. (Unless its the dot com kind)

Exhibit B: Genetically mutated squirrels on a hot apartment roof

Recently Lindsey and I have been taking walks around our complex, you know, for our health. Also it's when we come up with our best get-rich-quick schemes and blog post ideas. So on our last walking adventure, we were moving along at a good clip, (I was even keeping up with Lindsey and her long legs) when suddenly the building we were walking past was attacked by genetically mutated squirrels. Okay, I don't actually know that they were genetically mutated, but they had to be something special because they made enough noise that we thought the building was falling on our heads. As it turns out no buildings were crumbling and when the theoretical dust had cleared I looked up to see that my roommate, the one I share my salt shaker with, had up and left me for dead. No really, she was literally 17 ft in front of me, running and not looking back. Frankly, I'm just glad she let me back into the apartment.

Exhibit C: Any and all bugs, but specifically Palmetto bugs

If at any time there is a large bug, Lindsey will without a doubt leave me for dead and save herself. This is pretty much a universal rule around our house. Whether the bug is in the kitchen or bathroom, when I hear the shriek and peak around the corner to make sure no one has lost an arm or something, she zooms past me like some kind of road runner and my head spins like poor Wyle E. Coyote. Until the bug is dead and flushed I can basically count on fending for myself. 

I guess in the case of a zombie apocalypse, it's every potato for herself! 

 

Don't worry Lindsey, I still love you :)

Jim Halpert, The Everyday Man

In case you haven't figured it out yet, Lindsey and I watch a lot of TV. Not a lot in the "you may have ocular lock because you've been sitting still in front of the screen too long" kind of a lot. Just the normal, "20 something women who really like soap operas, comedies, and reality TV as well as FOX news and jeopardy and really, the other shows would feel left out if we didn't watch them too" kind of a lot. It's not a problem, I swear.

Anyways, one of our long time favorites is The Office on NBC (not to be confused with the British version which we don't like). While catching up on the last few DVR'd episodes, we discovered the reason why we both like this show so much:  Jim Halpert.

 Ah, Jim. Jimmy-Jim. Jim-miney Cricket. Jim-a-rim-a-doodle.
(Sorry, got a little carried away there.)

Jim is the everyday man. He works in an office, he wears a tie and has sometimes unkempt hair. He hates party planning, eats brown bag lunches most days, and plays practical jokes on his desk neighbors.

Jim is humorous, romantic, has boyish charm, and a quick wit and he is the standard to which we measure all men.

Jim spent years.. YEARS chasing after his true love Pam, the secretary. He watched her date, get engaged to, and eventually dump her long time boyfriend. He left the office, came back to the office, dated other girls, dumped other girls, but all the while he knew who he loved. And most importantly, we knew. There are nights when we would quite literally hold our breath for those few and far between serious moments of the show when Jim and Pam would reach a crossroads in their relationship... "Kiss her! Go after her! Don't be a fool Pam Beasley, take him back! Love each other!!!" Insert heavy, teenager-esque sigh here.

Recently, we have been disappointed with the direction that the writers have taken Jim. I mean, obviously, we know him SO much better than those pesky writers. "He would NEVER do that to Pam! What? This is not seriously happening right now. Who ARE you Jim??? It's like I don't even know you anymore." Those are things we've really said. For real. (We don't have a problem, stop judging.) But tonight, we were vindicated. Spoiler alert: Jim becomes Jim again and restores our faith in the everyday man.

The reason this is so important to us is that if Jim, our Jim, our close personal friend and yard stick for a real man, can be a jerk and ruin everything.. then where is our hope? I suppose we will have to just fall back onto Plan B: Remaining single, seemingly unattached wine drinkers who are mysteriously rich and only work when absolutely necessary like Senator Dorian Lord or the great Victoria Lord from One Life to Live. (Don't even get me started on that show).

In lighter news, I would like to share with you a few couples who did indeed give us hope this week:





Nashville's Rayna James and Deacon Claybourne FINALLY confessed their undying love for one another.. probably because they wanted us to stop writing those nasty letters.






 New Girl's Nick and Jess also took heed of our letters made of magazine clippings, and at long last decided they should be in love. (I think Lindsey and I should start a match-making service this summer in all of our spare time.)








The Mindy Project's Mindy and Danny are the only hold-outs. Seriously, get it together Kaling. In fact, we've received our letters unopened and returned to sender. I'm afraid we may have to escalate to cryptic phone calls. Why can't they just be happy together? Don't they know that I know what's best for them??

Mindy and Danny: The love arrows are coming at you next.

My Roommate: The Drinking Game

Have you ever watched those shows that explore the undiscovered talents, or habits, of people who are close to you? I don't mean America's Got Talent or Bet on my Baby, I am more leaning towards the best of MTV's True Life series or Teen Mom (hey, even those girls are good at something). Well, I've recently decided to exploit something about my cohort Lindsey and turn it into a drinking game because really, what else should you do with your best friend's weird knack for remembering things?

The first thing you should know is that Lindsey has a photographic memory. I'm not talking about those people who say they have a photographic memory, she really has one. It's ridiculous, although very handy at our weekly trivia nights. Lindsey remembers everything. In fact, I don't think I've ever once, in the 5 years I've known her, heard her utter the words " I don't remember." Conversations where we need to recall things generally go a little something like this:

Michelle: Blah, blah, blah happened on a Thursday like a year ago I think.
Lindsey: Actually, it was a Wednesday and it was June 17th, 2009 at 4:13 pm. I remember because we were watching General Hospital and It was the day that Dr. Drake saved Robin's life and I briefly stopped to look at the time because I had a dentist appointment the next day and needed to floss.
Michelle: You remember all that about a day that was 4 years ago?
Lindsey: I have a photographic memory.

(This may be a dramatization) (But, it's also pretty accurate)

For five years I have ignored this little talent of Lindsey's and finally, now that my heavy drinking days are behind me, I have decided to use it for entertainment purposes.

How it Works

1. Give Lindsey a category (i.e. state capitals, brands of chocolate, football teams that have never won anything in their entire history, breeds of dogs, etc.) The more obscure, the better.
2. Have a list of all things in said category.
3. Be amazed as she rattles off nine out of ten items in each category as if she's been cramming for a final on it all night.
4. Everyone drinks when she misses, which is like, never.

I have singlehandedly invented the first ever educational drinking game in which you probably be sober at the end.

It sounds lame, but I tested it with state capitals tonight and let me just tell you..I was on the edge of my seat. And now I know that Carson City is the capital of Nevada, or Nebraska, or..well, I'll just go ask Lindsey.

My love hate relationship with Peggy. (minus the love part)

Lindsey and I consider ourselves pretty lucky to live in a nice apartment complex. There are gates at the entrances, a gym, a dog park, a tennis court, a pool - all anyone could ask for as far as amenities go ( well, not all, but I won't get into that now). There is even a motley staff in the office who we often liken to various television characters (such as Morgan from The Mindy Project) and who are really quite friendly, or at minimum entertaining. All save one. All except Peggy.

Whenever I see Peggy's name on a flyer or hear her voice I make a face. I make this face because I do not like Peggy. There I said it, I don't like her. There are a lot of things in this life that I do like.. Kittens, rainbows, macaroni and cheese, surprise gift cards at Easter (thanks mom!), but Peggy is not one of them. I so dislike her that I actually find it quite taxing to be nice to her at all, despite my typical nice girl problems (see previous posts). You may find yourself asking "But why, Michelle? Why can't you be nice to this little office lady but you can be nice to the old-enough-to-be-your-father creeper who won't stop chewing your ear off in the subway line?"

Well, I'll tell you why.

The first reason I don't like Peggy is that we had a terrible first encounter. One summer day last year, I was out by the pool in the hopes of burning my pale arms into blissful tanned submission. As you can imagine, this sent my body into all kinds of shock including, but not limited to thirst. Being a native Floridian I had obviously thought ahead and brought a tumbler full of ice cold water, however I had been in the sun for so long that my once refreshing beverage had now become nothing more than bath water. Ew. I was ready to test the strength of my immune system by drinking from the water fountain when I recalled that the clubhouse had a perfectly good refrigerator and freezer inside, a freezer which housed ice that was often used for resident event nights. Now, in my defense I was pretty sure that when we moved in someone had told us there were water bottles and things in that fridge for anyone to consume, but out of politeness I decided it was silly to ask for a whole bottle of water when all I really needed was a few ice cubes. So, in I went - perfectly dry, shoes and shirt on. Once inside I realized the freezer was locked, yes, locked (these people are obviously touchy about their maytags), so I went up and introduced myself to Peggy, the new office hostess. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Hello, I'm Michelle! I am a resident here, you must be new!
Peggy: Hello. What can I do for you?
Me: Well, I was out by the pool and my ice melted in my cup, I was just wondering if I could have a few ice cubes from the freezer to cool it down..
Peggy: Residents are supposed to provide their own ice.
Me: Oh well. I just thought I would ask since I noticed the freezer full of ice the other night at the resident event.
Peggy: (huffy sigh, jingling keys, stomping past me to the freezer)
Me: Oh.. Well, thank you! I'm so sorry to bother you but I really appreciate it!
Peggy:(deadly silence as she personally fills the ice in my cup so high that I can no longer put the lid on)
Me: Ok..well, have a nice..um..day..
This was the first time I realized two things about Peggy. One, she has an attitude problem and two, she hates people. The first of those issues is apparent every time you interact with her which is the second reason I don't like Peggy. Some people are just grumpy, and I've come to terms with that but when you are grumpy and rude, then that's just ridiculous. Every time Peggy answers the phone her voice is dripping with disdain.
"What's that? Your dryer is broken and maintenance hasn't shown up yet? Too bad, I could care less and no, I don't have time to call you back to confirm the problem has been resolved. I'm super busy here in the office."
Unacceptable, Peggy, just be friendly.
I'm probably being a little unfair. I mean, she is nice... Just not to people. The last reason I dislike Peggy is because she will only be kind to you if you have a dog by your side. It's true, I can't make this stuff up people! I walk in one day, sans dog, and get the typical treatment from Peggy. The very next day I decide to go on a walk with Abbie, my dog, and stop in the office to pick up a package and voila! Brand new Peggy. She smiled. At me. And she pet my dog while talking in a baby voice. Dogs are obviously Peggy's kryptonite.

I like to imagine that Peggy is miserable only because her dream of conducting a travelling dog circus with her veterinarian husband Marcelo was dashed when Spot and Pepper her twin Dalmatians ran away from home in the early 2000's. There are some things in life you truly never recover from.

Or maybe she just really doesn't like me.

You tell me which is the more plausible answer.

*Names have been changed to protect the grumpy dog lovers.

Confessions of a "Nice Girl"

I'm a nice girl. I don't mean that in the "I'm the kind of girl you bring home to mom" way (although I am that too, if there are any takers out there). I mean it literally.. I am nice. All the time. To everyone. I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I've been mean to someone who deserved it or for no reason at all. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, or anything, I mean it's not something I'm generally proud of, ask anybody. I once, in an inebriated stupor at trivia grabbed the ear of an opposing teammate and rambled on for what could have been hours about how much I hated being the nice girl because, as the saying goes (at least in my head) nice girls finish last, always, no exceptions. Sure being nice has gotten me a lot of good things- a job, a roommate (love you Lindsey!), a dog that likes me most of the time, but you know what it hasn't gotten me? A millionaire husband who supports my ridiculous shopping habits, a great parking spot at any store, anything at a Black Friday sale, and free shots at any bar ever. You may think I'm being a little dramatic (I am) but I miss out on things too often because I'm too nice to push my way to the top. Especially when competing with other girls for a boyfriend (or the aforementioned free shots), I usually feel like everyone else in the world has a fast pass to the Buzz Lightyear ride at Disney and I'm stuck in the back of the regular line with the drooling toddlers and elderly folks who won't even realize how awesome the ride is! (It's literally my favorite ride)

I get a little disheartened sometimes because even with the encouragement of my best gal pals, I rarely can muster the not-niceness I should have in a justified situation. Exhibit A- After a heartbreaking, soul crushing breakup in which I was not at fault, yet had the dirty job of sorting out belongings and in the end finalizing the demise of our relationship,I could not be mean. Sure, I could talk a big game, yell a bit, but really? I couldn't be mean. I, much like Mother Theresa, just cannot do it. I don't believe in it. Even after some skeletons came out of the closet, the worst revenge I could muster was to gather up the last of his things (that had been left behind somehow) and shove them into a giant ziplock bag (the really really big ones) and banish them to my bathtub without telling anyone I had them. Yes, you read that right, any other ex would have burned those comic books in a dramatic display of anger and cleansing but not me.. I chose to lug them in and out of my bathtub every morning for the next 35 days until Lindsey finally told me she thought I had a problem and needed to dispose of them. Obviously I agreed and very angrily I picked up that bag, threw it in my car, and....... Gave it to my Dad, because I couldn't even throw the collection of knick knacks and paperbacks in the dumpster. THAT'S how nice I am. And I'm not proud of it.

I often say that if I'm nice long enough karma will pay me back one day, kind of like the story of the tortoise and the hare. I'm the tortoise, ever polite and nice, never smack talking, and not nice people are the hare. The hare skips along, all fast and leggy with good genes bound to win the race when here I come along, slow and round, saying "excuse me" to each blade of grass I ever so slowly creep by. The hare gets a lot of perks in the present, a promotion at work, a free Gatorade after each mile of the race, a close spot at the mall... But the tortoise has to wait a bit. While the hare gets all cocky and takes a nap at the Ritz, the tortoise wins the race, because ultimately rewards along the way or not, karma makes the hare's alarm not go off, and you can't beat good karma.

Today, karma paid me back in a small and insignificant way. I ventured out to do some work today despite having an awful head cold and a cough that says "two packs a day" and on my way home I decided to stop for some lunch. I walked into Subway and got into line, but being sick (and ever so nice) I decided to keep a little distance between myself and the other customers so as not to spread my germs. It wasn't a lot of space, maybe an extra 6 inches, just enough that I could cough without feeling rude. So I'm standing there when this lanky guy with a bag of chips steps up next to me, thinking he was just resting his arm on the trash can beside me,I didn't bother to assert my spot in line, I mean.. He's a guy, I'm a girl.. The polite thing is to let me go first, ESPECIALLY since I was already standing in line! No, this unchivalrous fellow decides to cut me off first chance he gets and squeeze himself into line. Are you kidding me? If I had a stronger voice, I might have said something, but alas I'm quite horse and weak sounding at the moment..and again, most likely too nice anyways, so I didn't. I huffed and puffed in my mind, stewing over it as he ordered his stupid tuna fish sandwich, making an elaborate story in my head as to why he could have possibly needed his sandwich 10 seconds before I needed mine. (i.e. His wife is in labor and demanding a tuna sandwich or he cannot see the birth of his first son. I know, these are the stories that go through my brain, I cannot make this stuff up.) Anyways, he's a little gruff to the Subway girl, who I'm practically best friends with because I am always at Subway, which irritates me. So when I get to her I try to be really cheerful, despite my smoker's voice which probably makes me sound like her bearded Aunt Lucy, and she seems to appreciate my efforts because when she accidentally picks up the large drink cup instead of the medium she smiles and waves her hand dismissively saying, "Eh, take the large, no extra charge!"

Thank youuuu, Karma.


It really is the little things in life for this nice girl.

A Day (or two) in the Life of a Couch Potato

Recently, Michelle and myself have been in the throes of craziness. We've both been sick, Michelle way more so than me, trying to train for a half marathon, work, social lives, family obligations, and a super fun Mardi Gras party-- there has been a lot going on! In the midst of all of it there has not been a lot of time to blog. In fact, there has been almost no time to blog.

Luckily, we have a strange habit of recording our conversations, which has left us with plenty of material here to share with you and get to be a fly on the wall of our living room, car, or anywhere else.

This upcoming weekend brings the end of my half marathon training so I, for one, will have just a little more time available to bring all of my blog ideas to life.

But until then, here are some real conversations that Michelle and I have had in the past two months or so that were just too funny to no exploit for your entertainment.

*Please note some of these conversations were recorded by Michelle, I am not referring to myself I the third person :)

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Sitting in Sweet Tomatoes (our all time favorite restaurant) we were very understandably distracted by a group of children in karate uniforms.

Michelle: Oh look, the ninjas are here.
Lindsey: Good. Maybe they can protect us from pregnancy.
Michelle: -after a moment of consideration- There are worse things in life.

---------------------------------------

Lindsey: Her butt and my butt are almost always touching.

She was referring to my dog while sitting on the couch, but it's funnier if you read it out of context.


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Waiting for General Hospital to start the other day, we happened across The Chew. (We do not like The Chew, on principal. We've never watched it.)

Michelle: Clinton Kelly. I really like you, but--
Lindsey: But your show took over for One Life To Live and I cannot condone it. And Mario Batali, stop wearing Crocs.
Michelle: And ponytails! You're telling me, looking at this, the Crocs are the problem?

------------------------------------------

Lindsey: He was dressed really nicely.
Michelle: Well, because he came from work.
Lindsey: Or because he wanted to ask you on a date.
Michelle: (chokes on an almond) Now I'm sick to my stomach.

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On our way home from our New Year's celebration, this happened:

Michelle: Can you slow down? I can't keep up with you.
Lindsey: Why don't you take your shoes off?
Michelle: Because my feet are sensitive and the ground will hurt them.
Lindsey: Oh. My. Word.
Michelle: (blows party horn)

Sometimes the blow of a party horn is the best response.


-----------------------------------------

Sitting on he couch, in the dark, playing word games back and forth on our iPads.

Lindsey: Um... According to Scramble bed-rape is a word. Seriously? Bed-rape?
Michelle: I think it's be-drape... Like to bedrape something in cloth....
Lindsey: Oh.. (This was followed by a medicine induced fit of laughter)


-----------------------------------------

Sometimes we people watch. It makes us feel better about ourselves. And it is funny.

Lindsey: That kid is totally in charge in that family.
Michelle: For real.
Lindsey: If I ever have a child who is in control of me, you have full permission to do something about it.
Michelle: (blank stare) No one will ever be in control of you. Ever. No really. We can call your mom, your dad, your sister... Whoever you want. You will never not be in charge.

Apparently, Michelle thinks I like to be in charge. She's not wrong.

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Again, sorry for our lack of real blogs lately, but such is life! Hopefully you thought this was (kind of) funny and you have some more insight into life as a Couch Potato Princess.

Tune in next week when we have some kind of tribute written to honor our (kind of) friend Danny, who (kind of) likes our blog.

Which one are you? {Round Two}

For those of you that haven't read our first post, "Which one are you?" , we like to play games while watching TV. It makes the time go by faster and is really, very enjoyable.

Here's how it works, basically:

1. Pour a glass of wine. (Or two or three)
2. Watch a really good 30-minute sit-com.
3. Decide which character you are and laugh at the crazy antics that ensue.

Ben and Kate, the new Fox comedy, airs on Tuesdays at 8:30pm and is hilarious (in a weird, awkward situations kind of way). The show centers on the life of Kate, a 20-something who got pregnant in high school and has been trying to find a way to have a normal life ever since. To assist her with this endeavor, her brother Ben has come to town and really only seems to make matters worse (and weirder, I might add). Somehow, she manages, with the help of family and her best friend, BJ (who is awesomely British, and doesn't really know how to act appropriately around children).

While there are many characters that are unique and interesting in this series, our favorite characters are Kate and BJ for a number of reasons.


This is Kate. She's kind of a hot-mess, but she doesn't really mean to be - if that makes any sense at all. A single mom since she was a teenager, she has learned to depend on herself to get things done. She also bears the responsibility of taking care of her older, yet immature, brother Ben. The most important things you should know about Kate are that shes quirky (like, making funny voices at inappropriate moments), accidentally flirtatious with people she probably wouldn't ever want to be with, and accidentally mean or snobbish to people she really does like and want to date. She also has about the worst luck with men and can't seem to figure out what to say or do in order to have a lasting relationship.

Kate is me, basically, without the hot-mess part. While I don't make funny voices at inopportune moments, I am a little quirky. I don't like the sensation of biting into strawberries, I am perpetually warm but insist on wearing sweaters, and I jump to extreme conclusions. I'm weird, whatever. I also have a problem with saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Sometimes alcohol is involved, other times I just don't think about how something will sound before I say it. Kate does this a lot and it tends to cause a domino effect of problems for her and her motley crew. The worst part about this problem is that it causes me to accidentally flirt with guys that I am in no way attracted to. You know, that guy approaching you at the bar in his BMW t-shirt at 1:30 am, claiming to be rich but looking (and smelling) like desperation and homeless-ness had a baby? That's the guy I accidentally hit on. Not the 28 year old brain surgeon with the Bentley out front. No, of course not. That's the one I accidentally insult who walks away without buying me a drink. These are the Kate-like problems I have. Like I said, we are basically the same.



This is BJ. She is Kate's best friend and right-hand woman. They work together (although, I use the word "work" loosely when it comes to BJ) and she often invites herself into Kate's house and life like she owns the place. It's all good though, because when Kate needs her, she is there - well dressed, manicured, and possibly slightly inebriated. She isn't very good with children, as is apparent by her interaction with Maddie, Kate's daughter, and is kind of self-absorbed but it's all very loveable because she's British and who doesn't love a good accent? She is also brutally honest and always, like a good friend, has Kate's best interest at heart - even if she shows it in extreme ways.

While Lindsey is only kind of loveable because she does not have a British accent (just kidding), she has a lot of tendencies that lead us to believe if she were a more extreme person she might be BJ. Lindsey is always well dressed and manicured, and if she had her druthers we would all be slightly inebriated and walking our dogs with a glass of wine in each hand. It's not a bad idea. BJ usually goes to extremes to make sure Kate doesn't put her foot in her mouth (a valiant effort), and Lindsey often has to do this for me too. (Although, she has never physically smacked my phone out of my hand before as BJ once did to Kate)  Basically, BJ is a really good friend and so is Lindsey, making these two obviously alike.

I hope you enjoyed this episode of "Which one are you?" and will comment with your own quirky TV games!

A Couch for Couch Potatoes

Lindsey and I have decided we need a new couch. It's not that we don't like the couch we have, I mean, it has a pull out mattress which opens the door for all kinds of possibilities on movie nights or when out of town guests come over or when in-town guests come over and just don't want to leave. However, the couch is basically older than the two of us put together. That might be an exaggeration. It is also lacking just a bit on the comfort level, especially when one (or both) of us find that sitting up is just too much work while clearing out some space on the DVR. Lately we've taken to a routine of one person on the couch and one person on the floor. While this seems okay in theory, the person on the floor really gets the short end of the stick and also has to lay among the many allergens (and by allergens I mean pet hair) which only reminds us that we need to vacuum, and we, unlike The Elephant, refuse to vacuum at moments that might be considered rude by our neighbors (basically anytime other than a Saturday or Sunday Afternoon) (aren't we so polite?).

The point is we need a new couch. So, I've done some research (and by research I mean pinterest-ing) and compiled the top ten couches that Lindsey and I would like to own. Your job is to pick your favorite and comment on which one and why we should purchase that particular sofa. Easy, right? I mean, I've practically done the work for you!

Couch #1
"The White Lounger"
Pros: There is a place to lounge AND a place to sit (worst case scenario, one of us could kind of lay on the sitting side, you know, for those times when we both need to be horizontal), throw pillows (we don't currently have any)
Cons: The couch is white - we drink a lot of red wine, I assume you can figure out why this might be a problem, no real option for overnight guests, I guess we can always pull out the air mattress

Couch #2
"The Paneled Wonder"
Pros: Built in end tables which can be used anywhere on the couch (No more "Can you put this on the table for me? I can't reach.." moments), throw pillows (again)
Cons: It's basically a love seat.. while cozy, not quite what we are looking for as far as comfort and size goes


Couch #3
"Pillow-top Ghandi"
Pros: Lots of pillows (which would undoubtedly be comfortable), a colorful conversation piece
Cons: I'm not sure how stable this couch would be, I mean, it's made of pillows. Was anyone ever successful at making a pillow seat as a child without roly-poly-ing off the top? I didn't think so..

 
Couch #4
"The Titanic"
Pros: Um... I'm having a hard time here. Let me just clarify, this is a boat? And a couch? But, why? I just.. it is beyond me why anyone would need or want this. For all your living room fishing needs.
Cons: I called this the Titanic because it needs to be sunk. Everything about this screams "con."

Couch #5
"Couchez de Classy"
Pros: This is super classy, like us; if you look closely you can see that there is wine bottle storage on the sides, which is also perfect for us; and it's practically a bed, we could both lie down at the same time without even touching each other.
Cons: It might not fit into our living room and we might just end up falling asleep on this couch more often than not. (Lindsey just informed me that these were not in fact "cons" but they were the only things I could even begin to pick at...)




Couch #6
"The Puzzle Piece"
Pros: (This is going to be a long list) First of all, it's a puzzle. A PUZZLE. So cool. It's entertainment for a rainy day, something for kids to play with when they come to visit, and it's like having two to four couches at any given moment. Also, you could make a fort out of it. Still not sold? Imagine it loaded up with pillows and blankets on a cold day. Done and done.
Cons: We would spend too much time rearranging it and lose time we could be using to empty out our DVR. It would be a problem.



Couch #7
"The Cat Couch"
Sidebar: When I told Lindsey about this couch she exclaimed, "There's a cat couch?!? Well, Emma (her cat) needs that.."
Pros: It has a space for our beloved cat, Emma, which is obviously very important (I also don't think my small dog, Abbie, would hate it either).
Cons: It's kind of small.  I feel like this would only work if we had two of them, or more cats...




Couch #8
"The Bunk-Bed Couch"
Pros: It's a bunk bed, and a couch.. How could it get any better than that? Perfect for overnight guests, perfect for when we both want to lounge and watch movies.. this couch is amazing. Also, I think we would always have it set up as a bunk bed unless like, the Queen came to visit..
Cons: Are you kidding me? There are no cons. We may have to remove our ceiling fan, though..



Couch #9
"Sprout-a-couch"
Pros: This is literally my worst nightmare as far as couches go. I am not outdoorsy at all. Grass in my living room? No thank you. The only pro would be if it came with a hunky lawn-maintenance man to take care of the upkeep.
Cons: It's made of grass, it's dirty, we have allergies, you have to mow it. Ew.



Couch #10
"The Man Couch"
Pros: If you can't see the "pros" you are blind. Blinded by this mans six pack abs. I don't want to sway your vote.. but this is the couch we like the best, for obvious reasons.
Cons: There might only be room for one of us Princesses on the couch.. which means we might be racing home from work a little faster than normal, an unsafe, but necessary choice.











The decision is yours, taters! Comment with your vote!

Chivalry is dead, and hopefully so is whatever was eating our garbage last night.

(This is what I look like sometimes.)

So, I'm not generally one of those girls who needs a man for the sole purpose of doing things for me. I mean, who needs a hero nowadays when you have things like "The Grabber" to reach up high and the "As Seen on TV - One Touch Jar Opener" which I think is pretty self-explanatory? I certainly don't. I'm not some character in an 80s movie about a town that forbids dancing, I'm certainly not starring in a Shrek film anytime soon, and my name isn't Bonnie Tyler. (See what I did there? Hah.) When it comes down to it the only times I really find myself needing the specific assistance of a man is when it comes to all things auto-related (although I recently learned how to refill my own windshield washer fluid, so there) and garbage disposals, which have admittedly been a problem of late. Frankly, I pride myself on being able to work a drill, pick out a Phillips head screw driver, and uncork champagne (not all at the same time, mind you..that just seems unsafe). As a woman, I have the added bonus of not being afraid to ask for directions or help when necessary, too.. I also don't have the pesky toilet seat dilemma to deal with either. What I'm saying here is that I'm awesome. But, that's not entirely the point of this rant, I mean, post.

My point is a story really, and a short one at that so I apologize for the long prelude. Here it is:

Lindsey and I have neglected to take out the garbage for like, a week, and it gets pretty gross, as one can imagine, after sitting outside our door for so long. (Let me clarify that this wasn't necessarily out of extreme laziness, we both just started back to work after vacation, so things have been a bit crazy around our house) So apparently a creature of some kind discovered our garbage and chewed a hole in it to have an obviously PALEO midnight snack, which is understandable. This morning when we awoke to find the mess outside, we agreed that the trash needed to be taken out immediately upon our return home, so when I got home first, I took it upon myself to take care of business. I picked up the bag (a week old, I remind you) and it was leaking some kind of yellow goo, which was no good for me. Seeing no other option I dragged it downstairs to my car and set it on top of a pizza box (also garbage, I don't just keep random pizza boxes in my car at all times.. although it might not be a terrible idea to do so) inside my trunk, and hauled it to the garbage crusher (I don't know what the official name of it is). Now, the way our trash area works is that it's got it's own 'driveway' of sorts... Once you pull in, the road is blocked until you drive through, and the garbage crusher and recycle bins are all on the left. So I pull in, turn off my car, and proceed to get rid of some various bits of recycle I had laying around, when this man pulls his car in behind me. He leaves his car running, gets out with a handful of clear plastic bags, and bee-lines it for the trash compacter thingy which proceeds to make a bunch of god-awful noises while it eats the trash. At this point he's had to practically step over my bag of trash twice and I'm irritated that he didn't even offer to assist or combine our trash... But, what do I care? My name isn't Rapunzel, I can get out of my own tower and take out the garbage, thank you very much. So I he-man lift my trash bag up the steps only to discover that you can't put anything in the garbage monster while it's feeding. This both aggravates and delights me because now, Mr.Chivalry-Killer and I are trapped (due to my parked car) until I can properly dispose of my trash. I'm not going to lie, I took my time getting out of there and made him really karmic-ly suffer for his lack of manners.

As I said before, Sir, I don't need you to do things for me. However, every once in a while it would be nice to believe that there are in fact chivalrous men in the world who, out of respect, might offer to do something nice for a woman.


Bottom line: I don't need a hero. You don't need to be strong, or fast, or fresh from a fight. But gentlemen, when you see a woman with a disgusting bag of garbage, please take it or pay the kharmic price.

Tis the Season... For the Stomach Flu

Okay, so it's a little after Christmas, I'm aware, but in my line of work the cold and flu season is just about never-ending so its always "the season." Thankfully, I had two weeks off around Christmas, which is usually an ideal time to hide away from all germs and cocoon myself in my apartment with a Sam's size bottle of hand sanitizer and an extra-large can of Lysol.  This year, however, I must have been feeling brave because I ventured out of my apartment for many activities and frolicked about fearlessly through the bacteria infested planet we call home. Little did I know what horrible fate awaited me.

So, it's Christmas morning and like any self respecting 20-something I'm in my jammies and slippers, clutching an oversized Santa mug of hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows (or maybe it was a mug of marshmallows with a miniature amount of hot chocolate), 10 feet deep in discarded wrapping paper watching my younger sisters tear through box after box of goodies, feeling as if my family could be filming a sentimental coca-cola commercial when my dad starts looking a little pale. He shrugged it off and went about whatever it is that dads do on Christmas morning (I was way too involved in the removal of a Barbie from her packaging, you pretty much need the jaws of life for that job let me tell you).

It wasn't until a few minutes later when we heard the sound of, well.. puking, that we knew it wouldn't be a blue Christmas after all.. It would be a green one.

From there the domino effect began quickly. First my dad, then my mom, and then my sister. I thought I had narrowly escaped my fate the next day when I awoke with no sweating, nor queasiness, nor paleness (well, okay, I'm always pale. Stop laughing Lindsey) and so I went about my day as usual. Something you should know about Lindsey and I is that we attend a trivia night at a local restaurant on a regular basis, so when we go everyone knows our team and we were super excited to not have to work the next day which means we could stay out a little later and have some fun. Anyways, we grabbed some fast food before heading out and I briefly mentioned to Lindsey that my stomach was feeling a bit funny.. We chalked it up to excitement and drove onward, arriving a few minutes early and grabbing a large table for our group. As people began to arrive and introductions were made I began to realize that the strange feeling in my stomach was indeed more than excitement or nerves or even a bad case of too-many-french fries. I was going to be sick. Like, now.

I will spare you the details but let me just say that spilling the contents of my stomach into a public restroom trash can is less than glamorous and I do not under any circumstances recommend it. Ever.

Being the glutton for punishment that I apparently am, it took another round of up chucking for me to agree to be driven home. (At this point I couldn't drive if I wanted to for the sweat pouring down my brow and the proverbial tweety birds spinning around my head like some kind of looney tunes character.) Once home I began to grasp the gravity of my illness, and was able to successfully set up a clear puke-path that would be navigated in the darkest hours of the night. Some time later Lindsey came home, bearing gifts of Gatorade and saltines (seriously, this is why I can never live alone). She also did some interpretive dancing, which in my hazy dehydrated state I nicknamed "The Liturgical Lysol Lambada." It included the spraying of Lysol in the form of a cross by my door and her pirouetting around using the disinfectant spray as some kind of weird ribbon accessory. If she was on "So You Think You Can Dance," even Nigel would have applauded her creativity. I groaned a thank you and held up a scorecard with an illuminated "10" on the front and continued on my 12 hour journey through hell. (Okay, so some parts of this may be slightly fictional in case you haven't noticed, but the Liturgical Lysol Lambada was real, I swear.)

All in all, I guess things ended well. I mean, it took me another 12 hours sipping on salty Gatorade and gumming a few saltines before I recovered, but I did lose 4lbs which is always a plus. Also, my dog is scarred for life by the demon like sounds I made throughout the ordeal, so now every time I get out of bed in the middle of the night she breaks out the holy water just in case. Hopefully this story has been just as delightfully entertaining to you as it was (and still is) to Lindsey.. No one can say I won't make jokes (or blogposts) at my own expense anymore!

By the way, if you like our blog and think we should be able to quit our day jobs and sit at our computers all day eating doughnuts (Paleo, of course) and drinking coffee.. please make sure you click the button that says "FOLLOW" on the side bar! The more followers we have, the more likely someone will notice our extremely hidden comedic talents and suggest that we star in our own TV show or something equally reasonable.

Thank you!

Sometimes I'm kind of a grinch before Christmas

So, I have a theory that after December 1st, people turn into crazy Christmas aliens. Rude, obnoxious, aliens, mind you. Unlucky for me, it's way past the 1st and I'm out in the world trying to be as ahead of the game as is humanly possible for me. I am totally a last minute shopper.. I'm talking, 4pm on December 24th, last in line with my hands full of travel size hand sanitizers and "As Seen on TV" items that I have literally NEVER heard of. This year, I've decided, will be different. So, I started my shopping early (well, sort of). I bought boots for my 18 year old sister who is pretty much impossible to please, Sunset Cruise Tickets for my parents (Whose anniversary happens to be on New Year's... Can you say combo gift?), and pink sparkly walkie-talkies for my younger sisters who have recently acquired their own rooms. But the trickiest gifts to find of all? My friends. No walkie-talkies will suffice here, nor boots, nor sunset cruise tickets. No. Lindsey and I decided we needed to make custom, personalized gifts for the whole lot of them. I won't get into the gory details, but we pretty much came up with the all time perfect gift for those we love, cherish, and drink with on a regular basis.

Anyways, we needed to pick up some merchandise from Jo-Ann's fabrics.. which is fortunate since one just opened up 2 minutes away from our home. So we traversed over the river and through the woods (just kidding, there are definitely NO woods near our home) all the way to the crafting super store and we find what we need. However, there are only 3 and we need 5. (I cannot reveal what we were searching for, sorry french fries, I don't want to ruin the Christmas magic. Bah humbug.) So on we go to the south location, a mere 20 minutes away, and find the last of our.. items.. and purchase them from a well meaning, albeit flustered cashier. From there it's another 15 minutes south to the "special" store where they inform us that our purchases will not, in fact, work on their product.

Insert heavy sigh here.

By now it's 3 o'clock and we've been on the road, so to speak, for 2 hours. We drag ourselves back north to the Jo-Ann's near our house only to realize that we are missing a receipt. It appears that the very flustered woman at our second stop failed to give us one. No worries, I mean, I only purchased it an hour ago.  I should be able to convince them to give me the full price. How often could things possibly be discounted at Jo-Ann's of all places? Right?... Right?...

 So, in I go. Armed with one half of the receipts I required and a bag full of five fabric items I would never purchase on a normal day I marched my bad self in through those electric front doors and right up to "Guest Services." The very polite girl at the counter asked if she could help me and, my god, yes she could. I in fact, needed a refund, and I only had one receipt but that shouldn't be a problem since it wasn't really my fault that I was missing the other one.. bla bla bla. I think the girl tuned me out. Clearing my throat I simply stated that I had a return. Easy enough. She  began to help me and quickly saw that I had made a second purchase somewhere along the line.  It was then that she informed me that she couldn't accept a return from another store. Perplexed, I questioned her.. "You can't accept a return from another Jo-Ann's? That seems odd." It was then that she realized her misunderstanding and proceeded to call a manager to help me with my un-receipted purchase. I know that's not a word. I made it up just for this situation.

Now, let me explain to you that I worked in retail for many years. I understand protocal and following rules, in fact, if you'll remember: I'm a "rules" girl. I hate breaking rules or making others break rules... except when it comes to money and I'm about $4 shy of making my car payment this month. That's a different story. Also a slight exaggeration. Anyways, Bart* the manager comes up to me and explains that he will take care of me from now on. Something about the way he said this made me immediately want to shower, but I continued on. So Bart brings me to another counter where he proceeds to take 10,000 years to gather information off of my Driver's License, which can only possibly mean he's going to retain it for his own.. purposes.. and then quite plainly inform me that he can only give me the purchase price at it's lowest discounted rate in the last 30 days. Unlucky for me (again), at the time of this interaction Black Friday is only a week passed, and apparently my items were discounted down to welfare prices. So I get a whopping $4 back on an $8 purchase. Wonderful. I fought diligently, even citing my car payment as a reason why I clearly deserved a FULL refund... but, alas. $4 it was.


This all has a point, I swear.

So, here's to shopping early next year. Early meaning... April. Because seriously? Who actually enjoys Christmas shopping during Christmas? Not this girl. And I certainly don't enjoy being ripped off by Jo-Ann's of all places. I mean, who even knew they had sales? Am I right? (Just go with it.)

Sincerely,

The Grinch-Potato

Which one are you?

So, Lindsey and I really like to play games. It's a thing. One of our most recent and favorite games to play from our couch is the "Which one are you?"game. Here's how it works, basically:

1. Pour a glass of wine. (Or two or three)
2. Watch a really good 30-minute sit-com.
3. Decide which character you are and laugh at the crazy antics that ensue.

Anywho... our favorite show to play this with is the CBS comedy, "Two Broke Girls."  It pretty much follows the lives of 2 twenty-something girls who are a bit down on their luck due to crazy different circumstances. They meet, become roommates, and embark on a journey to own a cupcake shop and make millions of dollars. Well, maybe not millions. The reason this show is so perfect for us is because A.) Lindsey and I are roommates, B.) We are broke, kind of, and C.) We like to eat cupcakes. Also, it totally describes our lives minus the part about being waitresses in New York without cars who can't pay their bills on time ever and wear the same clothes all the time. We don't have that issue. Yet.

Here are the characters:

This is Max. She had a "disadvantaged childhood." She also knows how to work the streets. Not like a prostitute, although sometimes she insinuates it.. jokingly, of course. Anyways, she is pretty witty and funny and she has big boobs (It's a thing she says, not just me).

Reasons why I'm like Max:
-I too had a disadvantaged childhood... I wasn't allowed a dog in the apartment I grew up in. I was crushed.
-I know how to work the streets.. I've lived in this same town my entire life. I couldn't get lost if I tried. (Is that not the same thing?)
-I am witty and funny. (Ask Lindsey)
And... I have big boobs. Case closed.



  This is Caroline. Caroline Channing. She was rich for a really long time. Then her Dad did something shady and now she's poor like Max. She is super high maintenance and is kind of in denial about not being able to afford the finer things in life. She is also a go getter, which proves to be helpful in the cupcake business.

Reasons why Lindsey is like Caroline:
-She isn't rich, but she shops like she is.
-She is kind of high maintenance, and I can say that because we are friends and she knows it's basically true and I love her anyways.
-She too is in denial about not being able to afford the finer things in life.
And... she is a go getter. For sure. Case closed.


So you see, that is how the game works. We play it often and as Couch Potato Princesses we encourage you to take the time and play the "Which one are you?" game too. It proves worth it in the end.

Also, it's realllllllllly super funny when your character, or your roommates character, has a life event that aligns with REAL life events. You start to even pull for your character like, "You go girl! Kill that rat! I'd never have the guts to do it for real!"

Sidebar- Lindsey just texted me from across the couch that we are out of wine. That's sad. See why we need to be rich?

If you really want to make us feel less like crazy people and more like part of normal society, comment and tell us what shows you watch and which character you (or your roommate) might be in it!

Goodnight, spuds!