You Know How They Say A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words? Well This Post Has 335 Of Them. What Does That Tell You?

I haven't been sleeping lately. My "Why? Story" isn't as fun as the time I was in college and had to stay awake for 40 hours straight because I was taking 10 classes for 20 credits (Can you say butt load of work? I CAN! Butt load of work.) and then at like, hour 37 I was invited to go see Toy Story, and of course had to go, so I popped a Vivran and man was that one trippy movie! I haven't seen a Toy Story sequel since.

But, like I said, that's not my "Why? Story." And, because you all totally got the morada siamang reference on my last post, you know that it's baby related. Because, yeah. My life is predictable like that. I'd bore you all with the itty bitty 16 pound details, but, I'm baking cinnamon espresso cookies and I have my Twilight soundtrack Pandora station on continuous play (Are you judging me? You're totally judging me, aren't you?! I can see you through the computer screen, you know!) and really don't want to bore myself to sleep because I'm looking forward to dunking the cookies one by one by one by one into the mega cup of decaf coffee that I'm trying to fool my body into thinking is caffeine (my own personal brand of heroin), because it's after four and I am still breastfeeding Ellie, who is sleeping peacefully upstairs. Lucky duck.

I also remember one of my English teachers saying in high school that the most creative people are sleep deprived. I have one word for him: bull crackly. Sleep deprivation totally doesn't work, unless you think this is THE BEST POST EVER!! And if you do, will you be my bestest friend in the whole wide world forever and ever and ever? P.S I love you. (clasps hands and looks bashfully over shoulder)

Sooooo, instead of my usual awesome post (I can still see you, you know), here's an embarrassing picture of me. Yep. You're welcome.

This Is Two Posts In One, So You Guys Totally Owe Me. Unless I Accused You Of Murder, Then I Probably Owe You.

So yesterday I realized that I should have put up a vacation sign or something. I can see you all now, desperately logging onto my blog only to exclaim, once again, "Cottage cheese? Still!?!? ARG!! Will she ever come back? Will I be stuck with this curdled milk joke forever?! Where did she go??" (whimper sigh). The thing is, I DID make a sign. Two really, but couldn't decide which to use. I could have used this one:

But, it seemed too, I don't know... blah. I wanted something edgy. Something, cooler and relevant to our crazy mixed up world that we're living in with the siamangs all crazy weird when the vacuum robots come by that they totally go all morada. You're cool, so you know what I'm talking about.* But all I could come up with was this:

Yeah. I know. Not quite morada siamungs.

So, instead I flung all blogging responsibility to the wind (But not the oatmeal and coffee flavored wind. That would be gross.) and jetted off to Arizona. Where MY FAMILY AND A PACKAGE OF STARBUCKS VIA TRIED TO KILL ME!

True story: My Family Tried To Kill Me**

My sister-in-law and brother-in-law (who I will now call Fred and Ginger) invited me to run with them while I was in Arizona. They're training for a marathon but since it had been a year and a half since my last run, (A YEAR AND A HALF PEOPLE!) I knew I should take it nice and slow. While Fred, Ginger and I were running along the canals by the house where I grew up, Ginger turns to me and I hear her say, "Seriously!? This is as fast as you can run? YOU SUCK!! GET YOUR LARGE SPANDEX COVERED BUTT DOWN THAT CANAL! THE DECAPITATED FISH WE JUST PASSED NOT ONLY SMELLS BETTER THAN YOU BUT COULD OUT RUN YOU WITH ONE FIN TIED BEHIND IT'S BACK YOU LILLY LIVERED EXCUSE FOR A RUNNER! RUN! RUN! RUUUUUNNN!"*** And then she kicked me in the knee, yelled something about good luck finishing the last two miles alive, and sprinted off to join Fred all while laughing maniacally, forcing me to painfully hobble home by myself while singing my old elementary school song at the top my voice. (To keep the crazy people away. Duh.) This vicious attack forces me to steal drugs from my parent's house and then, in order to keep my would be murderers uninformed of my physically fragile state, secretly pop my stolen pills in the most inconvienient places like behind shower curtains and under ironing boards.

(knock knock) "What are you doing in here, Mommy?"

(shuffle, rattle, plugging in the iron) "Just ironing some, ummm... socks, Katie. Move along. Nothing to see here."

Also, I know it was premeditated, because I found THIS waiting for me on my bed when I finally lurched the rest of the way home:

It's Joint Juice, people. JOINT JUICE! I've never seen The Godfather, but I'm pretty sure this is the exact same thing.

True Story: How a Package of Starbucks VIA Tried to Kill Me

I drank it.

The moral of the story? Don't go running with Fred and Ginger unless they bring you real coffee.

* I'm totally throwing out random word strings here in an attempt to be edgy.

** Kinda true. Names, places, and dialog have been changed for literary effect.

***What she actually said, "Golly gee, that grapefruit tree is pretty."