The Dog is sick again. All over the kitchen, but luckily only on the cheap IKEA jute rug and the doormat. Except I think she just barfed on my pretty green rug in the bedroom, at least based on the fact that Child 3 just said ewww then disappeared and came back upstairs with some carpet cleaner. Would a cat be any better? We'll never know because cats are even worse that chocolate. And also, The Dog hates cats.
So every time I buy a new pair of shoes and wear them, I get blisters. This happens more than you might think because I, ahem, might perhaps buy more shoes than I need. (Stop laughing Husband. You left and I'm replacing you with shoes! At least it's not french fries anymore.) I bought this new pair of black boots and they are flats and have cushy heels and they still gave me a big blister on the bottom of my foot. And I wore socks! And it still didn't help. So now I'm limping around, but it is also the perfect excuse to keep Child 1 from dragging me to the gym and I really didn't want to go tonight because I am still sore, so now I don't have to. These are the boots. They are so worth the blisters.
The bidding is going terribly, thank you everyone who asked. It's infuriating and humiliating all at the same time. I feel like I'm just begging strangers to like me. Please like me and give me a job! And then I wonder, what happens if I don't get one. Can I just walk around the Department with a clipboard all day long and pretend to be going somewhere doing something official? Will they keep paying me if I can't find anywhere to work? I was so lucky last time that I just fell into the most perfect job ever and I know with my luck that will never, ever happen again. Bids are due tomorrow and bureaus will start giving out handshakes next week. So stay tuned if you want to hear about me crying every single day after that for months until I finally come up with a post who will take me. Sometimes I think this whole job is an exercise in humiliation.
Phil Keoghan had a worse day than me at the Emmys.
His show "The Amazing Race" which I love won for best reality show. But he took his 16 year old daughter as his date, and a famous actor hit on her! And she's 16! And her dad was there! If a famous actor ever hit on my daughter, I'm pretty sure I would deck him. So thank you, Phil, for making me grateful that my children don't hang around actors. And future hitters on them, beware!
So every time I buy a new pair of shoes and wear them, I get blisters. This happens more than you might think because I, ahem, might perhaps buy more shoes than I need. (Stop laughing Husband. You left and I'm replacing you with shoes! At least it's not french fries anymore.) I bought this new pair of black boots and they are flats and have cushy heels and they still gave me a big blister on the bottom of my foot. And I wore socks! And it still didn't help. So now I'm limping around, but it is also the perfect excuse to keep Child 1 from dragging me to the gym and I really didn't want to go tonight because I am still sore, so now I don't have to. These are the boots. They are so worth the blisters.
The bidding is going terribly, thank you everyone who asked. It's infuriating and humiliating all at the same time. I feel like I'm just begging strangers to like me. Please like me and give me a job! And then I wonder, what happens if I don't get one. Can I just walk around the Department with a clipboard all day long and pretend to be going somewhere doing something official? Will they keep paying me if I can't find anywhere to work? I was so lucky last time that I just fell into the most perfect job ever and I know with my luck that will never, ever happen again. Bids are due tomorrow and bureaus will start giving out handshakes next week. So stay tuned if you want to hear about me crying every single day after that for months until I finally come up with a post who will take me. Sometimes I think this whole job is an exercise in humiliation.
Phil Keoghan had a worse day than me at the Emmys.
His show "The Amazing Race" which I love won for best reality show. But he took his 16 year old daughter as his date, and a famous actor hit on her! And she's 16! And her dad was there! If a famous actor ever hit on my daughter, I'm pretty sure I would deck him. So thank you, Phil, for making me grateful that my children don't hang around actors. And future hitters on them, beware!
now I know your secret. DOUBLE TIME TOMORROW! :)
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