Tomorrow is the day I killed a dog. A cute fluffy one. I blogged about it. Obviously. But I want you to know that the post is very dramatic and it was a really hard day for me. I still run by that spot and see a white flash of fluff in a wheel well and hear the deadening thump. But you should also know I called my brother right after that incident and here is how the conversation went.
"I killed a dog."
"Yep..."
"No REALLY I KILLED IT! It ran after me while I was jogging and got hit by a car! It was awful."
"YOU'RE AN AWFUL PERSON AND A MURDERER!!"
"You think so?"
At which point he started laughing so hard he choked, which I interpret as God's judgment.
In hindsight, I have let go a lot of guilt about this, because, well it's not like I had bacon strapped to my running shorts or anything.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Anniversary of the death of an anonymous puppy
I'm back in the land of the living. Working 3+ jobs is not ideal. I know you all probably know that. It just takes me sometime to learn these lessons. Like fire is hot. Working 3 jobs is stressful. Fortunately, one job ended early so today I am getting my work done, staying in my sweatpants, not showering and drooling on myself all day. Judge Judy may or may not be involved.
Because of jobs and BOUNDARIES, I am not a liberty to explicate fully about what I'm doing. Which ironically, as I told my dad the other day, means that the only appropriate blogging topic I'm left with is poop. Social media is so testy. I've always tried to operate this blog so if my mother in law read it and she does (hi! see you in a few weeks!) that she wouldn't be totally offended by me. Maybe it's not the line for everyone. But when your MIL makes tasty cheesy potatoes like that and gives you McDonalds coupons, you want to be on that woman's good side.
But lately my social media world is getting a little more complicated. Like for example, I am now friends with my pastors on Facebook and Twitter. It makes you think twice before tweeting about drinking beer in your undies. But not enough to stop you from it. It is a little disconcerting though, when you're friends on Facebook with a 4th grader from your church and all you want to do is write terrible puns on your friends walls. That's why God invented privacy settings, I know. But I was discussing the intricacies of social media with my dad (dad's are the new blog), he listened to my concerns patiently and then said, "Your mom is mad about me over Facebook."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I'm Facebook friends with one of my old girlfriends."
My parents have been married for almost 30 years. They thought they've fought about everything there is to fight about until now. Oh internets, the trouble you cause. But you do bring us sites like this and this. So, it evens out.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
We can clip coupons all night
Sorry to be absent for so long. Apparently, when you whine about not finding a job on your blog...you get a job. Right now, I'm juggling three different projects. So, I'm dying and stressed out. Why didn't I maximize my sitting around in my undies time when I had time? Oh well. I'll be done with one project at the end of April and normal operations (read:writing useless blog posts) will resume.
The Dave is pretty excited for the return of money in our house. He's rubbing his hands together and has money signs in his eyes. He's already tweaked the excel budget. In fact, he sang this song to me the other night. Just kidding, he doesn't let me spring for the large fries and last week I bought three-ply and he was like WE'RE NOT MADE OF MONEY!!!
In good news, I start teaching this week! Comp 101, meet Lyz.
In bad news, tonight at kickboxing I was made to listen to the Quad City DJ's and Will Smith. Because it's not bad enough that she took my dignity when she made us use that stupid step for our lunges. Now she has to take my self-respect.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The sacrificial donut
Last night, Dave and I chaperoned a lock in. Over 40 children between the ages of 9-12. Most of them girls. Screaming. Adorable. Ear piercing. Chatty. Girls. This is my third year of lock in madness and you would think I would be used to it. But no. They pull something new on me every year. The first year the girls kept me up until 3AM making surreptitious fart noises. Last year, I was woken up for bathroom permission 48769827689376 times in one night. PEE ALONE! This year, it was the donuts.
Despite one girl forgetting a sleeping bag, and another girl sans pillow, causing me to sleep uncovered on the floor with my overnight bag propping up my aching head.Everything was great. Then came the morning. Sucking down coffee at the table the girls all sat down near me with their donuts. There was a pauses filled with happy little eating noises them...a single voice. "Lyz, how come you're not eating a donut?"
How do you explain to over 20 girls that its too much sugar. You ate your weight in gummy bears and if you have one more piece of sugar you might contract diabetes right there in the church gym and they will be forced to saw off your feet with their pink nail clippers.
"Ummm..." I said.
Then came the chorus of little voices.
"Are you on a diet?"
"Oh yeah, donuts make you fat."
"I don't want my donut."
"Me either."
"Donuts are gross."
"No, no, I want a donut," I said. "I was just...waiting until you all got one."
I ran to the table and came back with the biggest most sprinkly donut of all time.
"YUMMMMM...donuts are good in moderation and no one should be on a diet."
Then the chorus.
"Oh I love donuts."
"The chocolate kind!"
"Sprinkles are fun."
The happy little eating noises commenced again. Those girls are too little and too precious to even think about dieting and when I find out who even put that idea in their heads I am coming after them with a giant box of Krispy Kremes and cramming them down their throats.
Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to collapse into a sugar and sleep deprived coma. And take a years worth of birth control.
Friday, April 3, 2009
New Header
NOTE: THIS POST IS SO SELF INDULGENT. YOUR EYES WILL BLEED. SKIP IT AND READ THIS.
My little 2 year old blog needed a new look. I guess blogger-template-chic wasn't doin' it for her anymore. My friend Mel has a gorgeous blog and is now making a shopping blog. So I kinda felt the pressure.
Anyway, after wasting hours searching the interwebz for templates and such. I decided to make my own header. Notice it is a human heart. Not only does it emphasis the Yeatsian-nerdiness of my blog. But it is also creepy. If I could I would plaster my walls with illustrations from Gray's Anatomy (not the TV show, the actual text book). There is just something so compelling about drawings of human organs. Does that make me creepy? No.This makes me creepy.
The pot and the kettle
While I was in the throws of homework yesterday, I heard a knock at the door. Mormons. I answered:
"Sorry guys, I'm doing homework and I'm not looking to change religions."
'What church do you go to?" They ask. I tell them.
"Whoa, evangelical!" Said one. "That's pretty crazy, isn't it?"
"Well. I don't consider myself a crazy one. It's a lot like when people ask you why you have five wives. Well, the same goes for me. I have people asking me why I bomb abortion clinics. We really have a lot in common."
Silence.
"I only bomb abortion clinics when I am bored."
One of them coughs. The other looks away.
"I was kidding."
"We'll come back later," one said.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
What if you're on the toilet when Jesus comes?
Dave and I were talking the other night about the crazy people who think that Obama is the anti-Christ. If you missed that one, thank your lucky stars because that means you have no connections to the crazy underworld of conservative Christians. That conversation started me reminiscing with some fondness about being in middle school and hearing people talk about how if you did some sort of crazy calculus with Bill Clinton's name it would equal 666 and how Hilary's healthcare was the sign of socialism and the END TIMES. Oh memories of a conservative, home schooled childhood. I miss being constantly afraid that Jesus would come back RIGHT.THIS.SECOND.
And then I said to Dave, "Do you think most kids were afraid Jesus would come back while they were on the toilet?"
To which he responded, "WHAT THE...?"
"Yeah," I insisted. "Didn't you think about that while you were on the toilet if you got raptured then, would the people left behind see your behind as you were raised up to heaven? Or what if you were doing a number two and Jesus wouldn't take you?"
"Um, no."
And I that fear was such a part of my life that I had a hard time believing that I was the only kid who worried about it. So I started asking my friends. And I am pretty sure they all backed away from me, like my head was going to spin and vomit would spew and they would need a young priest and an old priest.
Blog readers? Was I really the only one? In the meantime, that picture above? Study it and understand my childhood better. The pic comes from this fab site .
