First of all, thank you all so much for your kind thoughts and good wishes for Toopweets (and thanks to Jackie for clearing up my kilograms mystery!); he really is all better. It's really amazing how quickly kids bounce back.
I mean, I'm no hypochondriac or anything (Universe: HA!), but if it had been me running a fever the approximate temperature of melted Pepper Jack cheese? I'd STILL be lying in bed, bemoaning my fate and picking out my casket like that crotchety old bat Mrs. Snow in Pollyanna.
Uh, not like I've seen that movie upwards of twelve times, or anything.
Yes, if it had been me, I'd likely be flinging my hand to my forehead a lot, and flopping into a sea of pillows, shivering from my flu. I'd probably also be wearing a floor-length dressing gown. As my name is not Blanche Devereaux, I don't presently own one, but it seems like a good thing to have around for when you're sick, no? Ooh, and a satin TURBAN! Man, I would be a kick ass flu-haver.
I wish I could say that the above paragraphs were indicative of me getting off track, but truthfully, I have no topic for today. I ordinarily don't write unless I have something to say (hence the severe dearth of posts lately), but T is sleeping, J is at the dentist, and I'm waiting for him to come home so we can watch our DVR'ed Shows of Awesomeness. So, you're stuck with me. Me and my total lack of blog topics. Hooray!
Let's start with one of the DVR'ed shows that I am itching to watch right now, but because I am A GOOD WIFE I AM REFRAINING FROM DOING SO: 30 Rock. My love for this program is well-documented, so imagine my utter glee when I found out about THIS.
Sweet. Fancy. Moses.
Unfortunately (and unsurprisingly), it's sold out, and I'm not ready to resort to turning tricks for tickets.
Oh, and while we're on the subject of 30 Rock? Were you all aware that there is a full-length version of Tracy Jordan’s “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” song? Perhaps it's their pitch-perfect use of the Jewish words and places I know so well (holla, fellow Hebrews!), as well as the "traditional" bar mitzvah pictures used in the slide show, but I laughed so hard that I may have almost peed a little.
And no, I'm never going to stop thinking that it's funny. I may or may not already be mentally working the theme into the future plans for a certain little boy’s Bar Mitzvah...in 2019.
Ooh, my new makeup is here! And it is fabulous.
Moving on: I am an idiot.
You see, I keep a metric ton of shoes under my desk at work. Honestly, most of them are “work” shoes; boring drab flats that I don’t really care about. But two pairs….ah, they were my shoebabies. One was a pair of wool red herringbone tweed flats with wee little flowers on either side, and the other pair was pointy-toed gray suede shoes with little kitten heels.
A few weeks ago, the red shoes tapped me on the shoulder. “Please, Metalia! Don’t you loooove us? We’re languishing here! Take us hoo-ooo-oo-ome,” they bleated. “Don’t let our gorgeous good looks be wasted only on your co-workers! Let us see the city streets! Let us step in gum, and hobo pee! Let us LIIIIVE!! Wear us to a partyyyyy! Put us to good uuuuuse!” Now, I don’t know why they spoke like sheep (perhaps because they’re made of wool?), but I realized that the shoes had a point.
I also realized I should stop tripping on peyote during the day.
Imaginary talking shoes aside, I hugged both pairs close to my heart, and promised to take them with me when I left for the day.
Unfortunately, that promise didn’t extend to actually taking them home, because I LEFT THEM ON THE SUBWAY.
No one could be more shocked about this than me. I am totally OCD when it comes to holding onto my shit on the subway. (Being pickpocketed and subsequently spending 80 bajillion years on the phone with the credit card and credit report companies will do that to you.) But be that as it may, here I sit, sans cute grey and red shoes.
This must be remedied.
And so, I ask you, in the spirit of this Flickr group: Have you seen any cute, colorful flats lately that I absolutely MUST buy? I can never replace the shoes I lost in my heart, but--Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Of course I can. HELP!