I’m stealing a phrase from one of my favourite websites to describe what my Friday blog posts will be from now on: train of thought derailments. Last week I did a blathering banter about whatever popped up in my head, and I found it to be quite liberating. So, I decided to make it an end-of-the-week thing, as a way to purge all the excess stuff from my brain that didn’t get blogged about (or wasn’t worthwhile to blog about). Sound good to you? I sure as hell hope so, because there’s no turning back now. Well, I guess there *is* the possibility of turning back, but I don’t really want to, as that would mean having to think up a new topic to write about, and I’m just too caffeinated to hold my brain steady. Go mocha!

Do you ever wonder if vegetables have hopes and dreams? Last night The Cheerleader I Live With and I were eating some snow peas, and as I picked one up out of the bowl, I began wondering if it was happy that I picked it (it would now be fulfilling its snow pea destiny), or if it was unhappy that it picked it (because I would then eat it, and it might be painful for the little snow pea). I mean, does a carrot *want* to be peeled, or does it feel that’s a form of torture? Do parsnips look at the chosen parsnip and flame in envy, or do they watch their parsnip friend be put in a bag, and thank their parsnip god(s?) that they were not the parsnip chosen? Parsnip. Paaaarsnip. Now that’s a bit of a weird word, isn’t it?

Here is a list of words that I can never spell correctly on the first try: caffiene, onomatopea, jewellry, Verseilles… I know there are others, but of course I can’t think of them right now. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the longest word in the english language is Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. I don’t know how to spell that, either. In fact, I didn’t even bother trying. Thank you, Copy Pasta!

Mmmm… pasta. I like it a lot. Too much. I remember when my personal trainer asked me to write down my food intake for a week, and when I wrote that I had 5 cups of pasta, she nearly had an embolism. Apparently I should only be eating 1/4 cup of pasta. 1/4 cup COOKED pasta. That’s approximately 7 noodles. Fuck that shit. I’m eating my 5 cups, dammit!

I think that raw chicken looks like a jiggly lump of unhealthy liver.

I want to hire house cleaners again. It’s not that our place is too big to clean or anything, I’m just lazy. I’m also honest.

I like these:

This weekend I am going to be whisked away to Seattle by The Cheerleader I Live With, and we’re going to buy some new clothes. Actually, we’re going to get him a new suit, and me a new dress (and shoes!) for his step-sister’s wedding. I love weddings. I really do. They make me so happy! I cry, and then I dance. What’s not to love? Especially when new shoes are involved.

I like The Cheerleader I Live With more than I like shoes. Just wanted to make that clear.

Why don’t they make a movie that suits both sexes? Like “Die Hard With a Versace!” That could work! Or like, maybe, “The Fast and The Fashion Conscious”, or “Scarf Face”, or maybe even, “Breakfast at Rambo’s”… I should be writing scripts.

FYI: The Cheerleader I Live With just summed up Guy Movies in this one sentence: “Violence, chicks, and bad acting”.  Perfect.

As for Chick Flicks, we need a little less violence, and a lot more Ryan Reynolds. Maybe some kissing. Maybe some violent Ryan Reynolds kissing.

…I’m going to go take a shower now. A cold one.

 

 

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