So remember when I actually used to write blog posts? Me neither. So here’s some nonsense. You’re absolutely encouraged to steal these and make them your own, as I did.

A. Why my last relationship ended:

Well I’ve only had the one. But if it ends, it’ll be something spectacular. Most likely I’ll finally go really nuts and try to throw Lobsterface off a tall building, but I won’t be able to, because, you know, he’s all muscly and giant, so in the struggle I’ll probably fall off myself. I hope I pop like a water balloon or True Blood vampire.

B. Favourite band:
OMG YOU GUYS. I hate this question so much. I don’t have a favorite band, I have favorite songs and they change almost weekly. What I really hate is when I find a song I can’t stop listening to and I think to myself, “Self, you should look up this artist and see what else they’ve been up to.” And then everything else they’ve ever done just sucks. Ugh. Someone recommend good bands. I like catchy hooks and singable melodies. Get on that.

C. Who I like and why I like them:
I like YOU, gentle reader. Because you read my blog. Bless your heart. Also, I’m sorry.

D. Hardest thing I’ve ever been through:
Anxiety disorder is a bitch, yo. And depression lies.

E. My best friend:
Well, I have a few, but the one who’s been around the longest is brilliant and insane. I’m trying to convince her to start her own blog. I’ll keep you posted.

F. My favourite movie:
You’ve Got Mail. The world lost a treasure when Nora Ephron died this year. Also, Tom Hanks is simply adorable. And A League Of Their Own, again, because Tom Hanks is adorable.

G. Sexual orientation:
Mostly straight with a healthy helping of girl crushes.

H. Do I smoke/drink?
Depends, are you my mother and/or my doctor?

I. Have any tattoos or piercings?
I have 3 tattoos, at the moment, and 4 piercings. If I didn’t work at a conservative religious institution, I’d seriously consider getting my dimples pierced.

J. What I want to be when I get older:
A freelancer who only works on what she wants to work on, and gets paid obscenely well for it. Or the voice of a cartoon character.

K. Relationship with my parents:
Sometimes they forget I’m a grownup. It’s gotten better since I got married, though. For the most part.
But then again, sometimes I forget I’m a grownup. Like on Red Wine and Gummy Bears nights. I’m all, “WOOO! I LOVE GUMMY BEARS!” And then like, “Yes, yes, this wine does have a lovely bouquet. I do appreciate the undertones of rosewood and vanilla.”

L. One of my insecurities:
Well, one of the more dire ones includes the flatness of my butt. It’s quite concerning.

M. Virgin or not?
Not since that unfortunate incident with the…you know what? Nevermind. Nope, not a virgin.

N. Favourite place to shop?
Dick’s Sporting Goods. lolz…just kidding. I don’t know how to sports.

O. My eye colour:
Green. Like grass. Or corgi puke after he’s eaten grass.

P. Why I hate school:
You all know I’m twenty-seven, right?

Q. Relationship status as of right now:

R. Favourite song at the moment:
Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen. I’m not even kidding, I crank that shit up and bellow.

S. A random fact about myself:
I cry for no apparent reason. Like, country songs about dads or old couples, Hallmark commercials, displays of patriotism, you name it. It’s ridiculous.

T. Age I get mistaken for:
It really depends on how I’m dressed. At work, people think I’m older, but if I’m wearing my booty shorts, I get carded trying to hire prostitutes vote.

U. Where I want to be right now:
Right between these two upstanding gentlemen. Heh, upstanding.

V. Last time I cried:
Today. Sometimes people suck. A lot.

W. Concerts I’ve been to:
I’ve been to a few, ranging from epicness like Rebecca St. James’ debut tour and Nickelback to less-awesome ones like high-school band concerts.

X. What would you do if (…)?
If you suddenly stopped talking in the middle of a sentence? I’d assume there was a werewolf behind me and duck so that it would bite you instead of me. Because I’m a GOOD FRIEND, dammit.

Y. Do you want to go to college:
No. I did that once. Unless I go back to grad school, which sometimes I think about doing. Except I’m SO lazy. Hmm.

Z. How are you?
Sad and angry but also amused by the gentle comedy of How I Met Your Mother.


I couldn’t sleep last night, so in the middle of the night, I got up and cut myself bangs. As one does. This conversation happened when I crawled back into bed.

Me: “HUFF”

Lobsterface: “What’s wrong, love?”

Me: “I just cut myself bangs and I think it was a mistake.”

Lobsterface: “Can I see?” pulls out cell phone and turns on the flashlight feature because that’s easier than actually turning on the lamp. Apparently.

Me: “You could turn on the lamp, you know.”

Lobsterface: peers at me, all squinty like, as if I’m a beetle on a pin “…meh, I’ll still make out with you.” turns off flashlight, rolls over, goes to sleep.

I routinely murder house plants for no discernable reason. Granted, sometimes it’s because I forget to water them for weeks at a time, but sometimes I do water them (I DO. Shut up.) and they still die. Apparently, Lobsterface has been trying to murder most of the plants around our house since he moved in seven years ago, but so far he’s been unsuccessful. When I moved in, he had high hopes that my toxicity to indoor plants would naturally affect the outdoor plants as well, but so far they seem to be surviving just fine, despite the gallons of bleach he pours on them every year.

Don’t tell the DEC.

At some point, we (or maybe just I) would like to turn our forest of a backyard into an actual yard where one can sit with a cup of coffee and a book, or with friends around the fire pit we’re someday going to get around to. Here’s what it looks like right now. Ignore that blurry corgi in the foreground.


See? Plenty of not-dead foliage. I’m really hoping that my black thumb doesn’t infect the lovely little hydrangea bushes that we just planted.

so perky

We started out with an empty, boring stretch of lawn next to our back steps, the steps we most often use for going in and out of the house. Originally, we bought four plants and planned to put 2 on either side of the steps, but neither of us are super awesome at pre-planning and measuring things, so, when we got home, we noticed that the window AC unit we keep in the kitchen dumps it’s water right there next to the steps. And full-grown hydrangea bushes are about four feet wide and tall, so we didn’t want the AC unit and the plants fighting over space.


So, we just planted one to the left of the steps and planted the others along the wall on the other side. Here are all the pretty hydrangeas, waiting for their new home.


So pretty.

so pretty

I planted them one-by-one, I didn’t dig a bunch of holes and then plant them all. I don’t know if that needed to be explained, but I don’t get paid for short blog posts. I don’t get paid for long blog posts, either, but that’s neither here nor there.

So! First I measured about two feet from the steps.


Then I dug me a hole a bit deeper and about twice as wide as the root ball of my first hydrangea plant.


I found a worm, but I didn’t take any pictures of him/her (get it? because earthworms are hermaphroditic? Sigh, I amuse me.). Here’s the plant in the hole. I didn’t leave the little plastic bucket on there forever, it’s just easier to see the size of the root ball in relation to the size of the hole (that’s what she said) this way. I think that some plants come in biodegradable buckets that you can just plant, but these did not.


Next, I took the dirt that I’d dug up and mixed in some “all purpose, natural fertilizer”, which was basically cow poo and compost. It didn’t smell like cow poo, which actually disappointed me a little. I grew up on a dairy farm, and cow poo is still one of my favorite smells. Neville agrees with me, Lobsterface does not.


And then I filled in the hole. There are just too many That’s What She Said joke opportunities in this post about holes, so I’m going to go ahead and let you come up with your own. You may submit them in the comments.

filled in

Then I did the same thing with the other three plants.

all done

more all done

Nevill thinks he helped by barking a ton. I don’t know, maybe there were evil squirrels waiting to attack me the whole time, and the only reason I’m still alive is that they were afraid of my ferocious dog.

guard corg

I put little marble pebbles at the base of each plant, but I didn’t take pictures of that part.

After I let them settle in for a few hours, I went out to check on them again. A couple of the plants were pretty sad-looking, but the one in the shade was doing fantastic, so I set up this awning thing using an old bedsheet and some sawhorses. Like a boss.



I thought I’d killed them right off the bat, but in the cool of the next morning, they looked way better, so I think they’ll be ok. I didn’t take a picture of that either. Sorry.

Finally, I gave Neville many kisses for being my assistant/body guard. He hasn’t murdered me for it yet, so that’s good, I guess.


Does anyone have any advice for me about keeping these lovelies alive?

Today I took my dog swimming. I take him swimming because I think it’s hilarious, not because he enjoys it. He doesn’t. He won’t even get into the water without some kind of incentive. Luckily, there are alway a flock or two of ducks or geese on the canal near our house, and he can’t resist herding ducks. Corgis are herding dogs, and he’ll herd anything he can find, even if they’re not actually on land.


It’s always amusing when the only dogs at the dog park are herders. Basically they run around each other in circles while we bipeds try to get them to play fetch.

In between herding, he hung out on the teeny, tiny, rocky beach with me.



And ate what I can only assume was duck shit off of a rock. Awesome.

duck poo

Neville’s 4-inch long legs aren’t exactly built for swimming, and his muscular little body is hard to keep afloat, so I got him a life jacket hoping that it would make things easier. I don’t think it worked.

more herding


and swimming

Also, he really hates it. He won’t even walk around while he has it on.


It’s hard to tell, because Corgis are perpetually smiling, but he was pretty mad at me by the time we got done.

Sister: You know, my ex and I had some good times.

Me: You and your ex had the most awkward relationship in the history of ever. Hitler had less awkward interactions with Jewish people than you had with your ex.

Lobsterface: (yelling from the other room) THAT IS THE WORST THING YOU HAVE EVER SAID!


Mom: Well, I don’t think it was very nice, but it’s definitely not the worst thing you’ve ever said to your sister.

Me: Dude, he wasn’t talking about how mean I was being, he was talking about how insensitive I am about the Holocaust.

Mom: Oh.

Me: Whatcha thinkin’ ’bout?

Lobsterface: I think, if I had a superpower, I’d like to have a hammer like Mjolnir, and be able to smash things with it like Thor, so that cars would fly across the parking lot and smash into buildings and I’d be able to call down lightening to strike anybody I was mad at all the time. Which would happen a lot. I’m generally angry at lots of people.

Me: I know.

Long pause…

Me: I think I’d like to be Corgneto.

Lobsterface: Corgneto?

Me: Yes. Like Magneto from X-Men, only with corgis. They would come to me, thousands and thousands of them, and they would be devoted to me. They would love me so much. They would have no choice, because I would be Corgneto.

Lobsterface: You may have a problem.


I’m not in the mood to write a real post tonight. My dear husband convinced me to try working out with kettle bells while my sprained foot heals enough to get back to running, and I definitely overdid things at the gym last night. It hurts to sit down. It hurts to stand up. It hurts to walk. It hurts to stand still. I’m going to try them again tomorrow, but if you don’t hear from me in a while, it means I probably died.

No it doesn’t. I’m a terrible blogger. If you don’t hear from me in a while it means I’m probably being lazy again, not blogging.

ANYHOO. I used to love those dumb surveys people would send as email chains, and then, when Our Savior Facebook came to redeem us all, share them there. And just the other day I found this gem on Tumblr. I thought about reblogging it over there, but I NEVER Tumbl. Or Tumblr. Or whatever. And I have one follower. So I’m oversharing it there. Feel free to steal it and share information about yourself that nobody really wants to know.

And here we go!

Do you have a favorite number? 
My favorite number is 8. Because H is my favorite letter of the alphabet, and H is the 8th letter.

How many goddamn chickens could you eat right now?
I could eat no chickens. I just ate a big bowl of chicken paprikash (recipe coming soon!) and I’m stuffed.

What is the mascot of every school you’ve attended?
Um. I think my elementary school’s mascot was a knight. Or a Bible. Or John Calvin. I forget.
My middle school mascot was a mustang. As in the wild horse. Not the car.
My high school’s mascot was probably a cow. I was homeschooled on a dairy farm. I kid you not. But our soccer team’s mascot was an eagle.
My community college’s mascot was a  hawk.
And my grownup college’s mascot was also a knight. Or a “raider”. I don’t know, I didn’t care what went on outside the art building.

I just set your house on fire; what one thing do you grab on your way out?
If you mean an inanimate object, I’d grab my Epiphanie Paris camera/laptop bag with all the camera/laptop equipment inside.
If you don’t, I’d grab all the furry people and run. I’d grab my husband, but I’m not entirely sure I’d be able to lift him.

Personality trait most likely to make you never talk to someone again.
Aggresive stupidity.

We all like different crap. Name one food, band and movie that you hate that everyone else seems to like.
Food: Lobster. I do not see the point. At all.
Band: Radiohead. Not liking Radiohead makes me an outcast in the graphic design community
Movie: The Godfather. And Scarface. And anything involving Nicholas Sparks. And Edward Scissorhands.

Now name one food, band and movie that everyone hates, but you like it because you’re a stupid dick.
Food: Garbage plates. Well, nobody around HERE likes them. Everyone in Rochester knows how awesome they are.
Band: I don’t hate Nickelback as much as everyone else seems to. I don’t LOVE them, but they don’t make me angry. And I still love Hanson, I don’t care that they were embarrassing even back in the ’90s.
Movie: I can’t really think of one, but this one looks like it has potential.

What social situation makes you the most uncomfortable?
When I have to talk to someone I kind of know, but with whom I have nothing in common. We’re past the “where are you from?” stage of things, but after that there’s nothing to discuss, and I’m at a loss.

Honestly, how many friends do you have that you would willingly spend a day with? If the answer is not in single digits, you are a fucking liar.
Outside my family, I have 3 friends with whom I’d willingly spend the day. But I’d have to be doing different things with all of them.

Is there anything worse than The Big Bang Theory?
ALL THE THINGS are worse than BBT. BBT is the shit.

I wanna know… have you ever seen the rain?
How much to we really SEE things? We don’t. We see light reflecting off things. So no. I have never seen the rain.

Would you rather have diarrhea 10 times per month or vomit once per month?
No indeed. I like to vomit and get it over with.

Would you be interested in spending an evening with me watching sports and eating Easy Mac?
Depends on who you are and what I want from you. I once went to see Avatar with Thomas because I was trying to get him naked.

Assuming no penalty, would you kill another human being (you can choose who)? If you say no, once again you are a fucking liar.
Absolutely. I’m too tired to get worked up enough to actually choose someone right now, but I’d totally do it.

Which Disney moment makes you cry the most because Disney is a dick of an entity that demands the death of at least one animal per movie?
The Fox and The Hound. The whole damn movie. Bambi ain’t got nothin’ on FATH.

Name one abnormal thing about your body.
I once cut my toe on a pumpkin. I don’t know if that’s specifically about my body, but my right big toenail will always be rumply because of it, so I’m counting it.