Tuesday, March 13


Last night I gave myself a facial...because...well I felt like it and Mr. Wookie was busy "bouncing." Night flights that bore an NFO to tears as it's just practicing landing for pilots...and the NFO gets to play Words With Friends for hours. Not that he texts on the plane. No. That's not allowed.


The pipes in our house have two temperatures. Scalding your mother-effin' knuckles off. And 'meh.'

Have I mentioned how awesome this Daylight Savings is? Oh, and have I mentioned how I'm barely waking up in time for work in the morning? But gosh golly this sunlight after work makes my day. I get to have a cocktail while the sun is still up. So now drinking alone isn't so depressing.

Sunday night I had enough of it. My beautiful laptop of 3 years finally has a battery lifespan of 10 minutes. On a good day. So yes, I practically stay tethered to the wall my entire blogging career (which right now my blogging career has been about as good as Sarah Palin's ability to be Vice President). Zing. The new battery is due into my lovely hands on Thursday - and I can't wait.

I still need to blog about my brush with death.

On tonight's menu are burgers - although we killed the potato salad from Sunday night's barbeque, so I guess I need to whip up another side dish to eat. And in this house potato salad is quite bland. I don't do onion, he doesn't do hard-boiled eggs. So it's basic potatoes, little mayo, good dollop of 'stard (that's mustard for the laymen), and the garnish of your choice. Bo-ring.

The dog will let you know when it's dinner time. Whine, whine, whine. Heaven forbid she skip a meal. It's not like she's starving in this parts. But the bitch earns an Oscar for her portrayal of "Bulldog, Neglected."

Can Mr. Wookie just be home yet?? It's quiet entertaining for the back door to be open, to hear the bloop-bloop of his Jeep, to hear the gate squeak open, and to see the dog scramble for traction on the hardwood floors before hitting the dirt running for the gate. Lest not forget the foaming at the mouth that there's a serial murder intruder all before she realizes it's just the big lug of flight suit who denies her access to sleeping on the bed with us. She really needs to learn her poker face better. You wait until after Mr. Wookie is on the boat, then you drool on his pillow.


  1. Too funny! Sounds a lot like my dog. You would think they would figure out how to play the men by now, but alas they still can't win with them.

  2. Ah, love this list. :)
    Dogs are good at that guilt trip crap.