The other day, Ned and I went to the grocery store, and when we returned I said, "Crap. I'm almost completely out of dog food. I forgot."
"Let's go back," said Ned. "Is there anything else you need to get?" Ned is the kind of person whose drinking glasses are all lined up neatly on the shelf, divided by size, whereas my glasses are crammed in every which way and occasionally under the couch.
Me, headed to the store. This is, in fact, a photo of Anne "I like me the ladies, no I don't" Heche with some June hair. It rained last night and I did the elliptical* and gardened, so really this is pretty much precisely how my hair looks this a.m.
"No, I don't need anything else," I insisted, and the good news was they had a sign that my dog food was on sale--$17 when it's normally $24!--and when we checked out, they charged me full price and it turns out that was "an old sign" and I got one bag completely for free and it was the most exciting moment ever.
My point is, I got home and realized I am out of paper towels, I have two coffee filters left and I have to use a vise to get the toothpaste out. I don't understand organized people.
And my mom will leave a "Make a list, honey" comment in 3, 2, 1...
In other news, look.
I was at work yesterday and I could tell there was a dog in someone's cubical, based on the squealing from various girls, then I came over and the whole building fell down with my squeals. HE NEEDS A HOME! Does anyone need a teensy baby bitty Beagle? He is fully grown, just kind of a shrinky Beagle. Oh, how I loved him.
That woman he's sitting with turned out to be April, my old dog walker. It's a whole story. It doesn't matter. What matters is, someone adopt this snicker before I do and ruin my whole life. I can't even keep a paper towel.
Also, this happened yesterday.
Faithful Reader Tee sent me 1950s magazines she found and knew I'd like because I am such a chef. I TOTALLY HAVE TO MAKE ONE OF THESE DISGUSTING RECIPES! There's a tongue salad! What say you? Would you lick it up?
In the '90s, there were these kids called Kris Kross, and they sang a song. The end.
Why is it important, if you're going to rap in any way, that you do that thing with your hand? Must you always be doing that?
Anyway. Tongue salad. Coming your way soon. Oh! I just looked again and see they also have Tongue in Wine! Story of my life.
*Oh, right. And perhaps you saw my reference to the elliptical earlier and you're still turning your head like Edsel does when I say "Outside?" I am in this fitness challenge at work, and I have to do 45 minutes of activity five days a week. So far I've done it, but I'm on day, you know, three. So.
There will be no working out tonight, though, because you know what I'm doing? Do you? DO YOU?????? Ask Ned, because I've talked of little else. Tonight, at the old movie theater we like, they're showing GONE WITH THE WIND!
Oh! Just watching the trailer, I got weepy! I mean, till I got to that fop Ashley. Then I sobered up. I hope the actual movie isn't as dark as this trailer.
Anyway, am beside self. I CAN'T EVEN WAIT! And you can imagine how Ned likes this movie. At least it's only four hours long. Poor Ned. Maybe I'll rustle up some tongue salad for him to munch on during the film.
When I was younger, I wanted to marry Lloyd Dobbler. And I kind of did. Then as I aged, I said, No. I want to marry Rhett Butler. But now? All I want is a Ned. Exactly the way he is. Eating tongue and lining his glasses up.
I'd better go shower and attempt to get the Anne Heche out my hair. I will report back tomorrow and let you know if Scarlett still fawns over that namby-pamby idiot. You'd think just once she'd see the light before it's too late.