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Posts tagged “funny stories

I Carried A Watermelon

My BFF/work-wife, Spanky is currently off on maternity leave.  This girl and I met years ago when we began working together and we became instant friends.  And, although we both had changed job locations, we maintained our friendship AND continued our lunchtime shenanigans all these years.  And now we’re back to working together.  ❤

MUD GIRLS

We just did Mud Hero together Yesterday.  #BFFs

And we have spent 10 years lunching together, walking thru Town, running the trails (training for races), running errands, or just sitting around stuffing our faces.  But one thing has always maintained the same for us, wherever we were and whatever we were doing, you can bet we were laughing our heads off and having more fun than should be allowed.  I have often said I bet people see us each day on our lunchtime ventures and are totally jealous of how much fun we’re having.  In fact, one day, just a few years ago, while running an errand in one of the little shops in downtown, we had a good case of the giggles and could not stop laughing and an onlooker, a chef from one of the local restaurants had been watching us and said he thoroughly enjoyed watching us have so much fun.  See…jealous.

But, when Spanky left to go off and have Baby Ruth I was saddened because I thought I was going to be alone for my lunch hours and, although I can go out and have fun make my own fun any damn time I please, I always enjoy the company.  And, just my luck, Spanky’s work replacement has also become my lunchtime replacement and Boo Boo and I are having tons of fun together.

We decided months ago, when there was still snow on the ground (which, let’s face it, this is Nova Scotia and that means it wasn’t that long ago that there was snow on the ground), that we were going to walk during our breaks.  Actually, it wasn’t so much a decision as it was something that just happened one day and we haven’t stopped.  It’s because of these lunchtime walks that I’m hitting my FitBit step goal way early in the day.

Boo Boo and I walk and laugh every day.  We are having way too much fun and, just like Spanky and I did, we’re making our fun.

One day last week, while out on our roam, we stopped into the local grocery store.  Boo Boo was checking out the watermelons and was intending on picking one up until I reminded her that she’d have to carry a watermelon through town, in 34 degree heat, and we still had a half hour to go on our break.  She left the watermelon there.  But, as we were in the checkout line, I noticed the guy in front of me was holding a watermelon.  When he glanced around at us I said to him “Can you please take that back to work or wherever you’re going and pretend you’re Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing and announce “I CARRIED A WATERMELON”.

I carried a watermelon

Boo Boo held her breath (because I’m a nut!) and the guy just looked at me for a few seconds like a deer caught in headlights and then the both of them cracked up.  He said he had heard us talking by the watermelons as he was picking his out and realized that he would be the one carrying the watermelon thru town in 34 degree heat (with a long-sleeved knit sweater on, mind you) and he felt like a dummy but he wanted to do something nice for his co-workers.

Watermelon

Nice gesture or not, I’d not be carrying a watermelon thru town in the heat.  

The three of us a had a long-lasting chuckle and he kept the conversation going until he finished his purchase and had to leave us, although it seemed like he would have rather stayed with us (Boo Boo said he’s now the president of my fan club).

I’m very thankful to both these gals, Spanky and Boo Boo, because you make my work days a heckuvalot more entertaining.  I soooooo look forward to Spanky’s return because I loooove her.  And I’m keeping Boo Boo too, so we can be the workplace Three Musketeers or Three Amigos – which, with the shenanigans and oopsies, seems a lot more fitting.

I love my life.

#makeyourownadventure

~Cheers

 

 

 

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My Neighbors Are Vampires!

I have new neighbors.  I met them a month ago when I was celebrating my birthday and having a huge party at our community venue.  They just happened to be strolling by and popped their heads in, and me, being a social butterfly, flew out the door to make new best friends, and enticed them to come back later and join the party.
Since then, I have been convinced more and more that they are, indeed, vampires.
(I’m not going to refer to them by name, I’ll call them Benny and June.)
First, they are very gothic in appearance: pale skin, long dark hair, extremely good looking.  Sexy even.
vamp
Second, they are creatures people of the night.  Honestly, I have almost never seen them in the light of day.  One exception – when I invited them to lunch….I’ll get to that later.  There never seems to be any action on their property until at least late in the day; usually after dark.  Most of the time I’m just getting home from a class – well after dusk – and they’re pulling out of their yard.  They claim it’s because they’re musicians and living the musician lifestyle that they’re up late but…I dunno.   Seems to me that many musicians I know venture out into daylight.
Also, Benny has even been doing renos on his huge gothic-looking house….INCLUDING changing a gigantor window – after dark.  Who changes a window after dark?  In fact, who does house renos after dark??  VAMPIRES!!
In addition – they sometimes disappear for days at a time.  Sure, they say they’re on tour, and their social media accounts support this, but even the Cullens had to leave for several days in order to feed.
Third, they are so charming.  Especially Benny – and maybe that’s just because he’s a dude and attractive, but they are so charming.  When they ventured back to my birthday party last month they were even kind enough to bring a gift. Whatt???   And Benny had his dark hair slicked back and was rocking a black leather jacket.  Charm, style, goth = vampire.
Benny is actually kind of mesmerizing.  Again, maybe this is because he is a dude.
benny

Not really Benny

June is beautiful, with her pale skin and long black curly locks; but Benny is mesmerizing.  I just stare.  (And giggle.)
june

Not quite June

Fourth, I haven’t seen them eat anything.   At my party they did not indulge in the food service (and who turns down gummy worms?? My bartenders even indulged in the gummy worms!), and when we went for lunch, June didn’t touch a thing.  In addition, we went for sushi and, tho Benny did have a roll, it was a fish roll of some sort…raw fish.  Raw. Meat.  Vampire.  On top of this, the photos I’ve seen of Benny drinking have all been of red wine.  Hmm, red wine or…..blood??
Halloween is right around the corner and I am not above popping over there on October 31 to see what.is.up.
Vampires.
*Note:.  Although all the above events are accurate, the indication that my new neighbors are vampires is in jest.  Somewhat.   They are quite lovely.  For vampires.

Hitting the Family Jackpot

To say that I grew up in a loving family is an understatement, to say the least.  I grew up in an abundance of love.  With warmth and hugs and kisses.  I hit the family jackpot!

I was surrounded constantly by my family – parents, brother, best friends – who were basically adopted siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.  And everyone is very close.
My mom’s parents lived only two houses up the street from us and they were the foundation of my family.  They were our proverbial rock.  Walking into their home was always walking into warmth.  They had an open-door policy and their faces would light up anytime we walked into the home.  And although they lived just a few minutes away and I got to see them pretty much anytime I wanted, nearly every day, it was always a great treat to visit them.  Nannie and Grampie.
My brother and cousins and I would take turns having sleepovers at their home.  And they made each and every one of us feel special and like we were the most important people in the world.
When I was very little, not school-aged yet, my nannie would take me shopping.  My grampie would give me money before I left and my mom would joke that I would always come home with a treat and more money than I left with.
I was their favorite.  We were ALL their favorite.  And they never made us feel like we were anything less.
These people were so special – to all of us.  We would always have big family Christmas parties there; celebrating, and being in love with each other and being so thankful for having these wonderful, loving people in our lives.  Feeling truly blessed.  In the summers, we would have “wiener roasts” – a backyard barbecue of sorts on the side lawn with a fire pit and swings and making “hobo pies” out of white bread and pie filling and roasting them in the fire.  These would go to after dark and were such a treat because we kids, the cousins, got to stay up late and play and be surrounded by so much love and friendship.
My grandmother, Betty, was an incredible woman.  Bright, witty, spunky, hilarious, and hip.  And my grandfather, Brent, loved her more than words can ever express.  And the two of them loved us unconditionally.
Nannie

Catching a fish and wearing white jeans with a thick black belt – this woman was ahead of her time

I remember never wanting to disappoint them.  And even today I still try to live each day trying to impress them and making them proud from their perch in Heaven, as I know they are looking down on me.
In fact, I remember the first (and maybe only) time my grandfather yelled at me.  I was maybe 3 or 4 and I was playing with my baby cousin, Daphnie and I held her wrong or something that may have injured her – and my grampie yelled at me.  Not out of anger, but to prevent me from hurting the baby.  I was instantly heartbroken and I burst into tears, confused and ashamed that I made this man, who I loved so dearly, angry with me.  Of course, he and my grandmother cleared up the confusion but I still remember that moment vividly.
My grandmother was very, very hip.  She drove a moped!  And she loved Billy Ray Cyrus and Clint Eastwood.  And she taught me how to play (read: cheat at) cards.  If were driving with her and jokingly said “Nannie, look at the cute boy, stop the car!”, she would indeed stop the car.  And she would laugh.  If she saw cute boys she would call them over and introduce us.  Instant mortification to a teenager, but funny as hell now.  Nannie would let me put make up on her – regardless of how hideous it looked – and tell me how much she loved it.  She would welcome me with open arms when I would “run away from home” and walk on the inside of the guardrail to get to their place (my mom would always watch from the end of the driveway).  I never felt of out of place with my grandparents.
Nannie had a heart condition.  She had two heart attacks by the time she reached 40 and then had a pacemaker put in. When I was diagnosed with a heart condition when I was in my late teens I was also told I would have a pacemaker by the time I was 30 (Note 1. My family doctor was super pissed at this statement and said the specialist had no business telling a kid something like that!  Note 2.  I don’t plan on ever turning 30.).  At the time I was annoyed and confused and scared at this diagnoses.  But, although I saw it as a potential obstacle in my health and life, I also saw it as something I possibly inherited from her.  Something that made me feel just a little more bonded to her.  I have held onto that.
When Nannie was diagnosed with lung cancer in the late 90’s I was devastated.  I remember my mom told me one Friday night while my friend Kim was with me so that I could be comforted at the time of receiving this terrible news.  But Nannie was so strong.  And after having her lung removed, her cancer was gone.  I also remember that while she was in the hospital for this surgery and treatment she was telling me about this gorgeous (male) nurse or orderly that she thought I would find so cute – as she found him so cute – but then she broke the news “….but I think he might be gay.  Dammit.
Within months of having her surgery Nannie was out in the fields picking berries in the summer heat.  Something she loved to do.  She took me with her one summer when I was 15, but I was not meant for that kind of back-breaking work – or using a port-a-potty in midsummer heat (so that I complained the entire day about having to pee) and she refused to take me again.  Ever.  And she kept her word.
That fall I had an essay to write on heroes.  And in my essay I wrote that I did not believe in heroes because I saw them as mythical beings, but that the closest I could come to was my grandmother, for all that she had done and gone through, and even made mention of the berry picking right after her surgery.  (I may also have mentioned my affection for Drew Barrymore for all that she had gone through in her short life and had overcome so much.  See, lifelong follower of this girl.) My nannie was indeed heroic.
Not long after, Nannie was diagnosed with throat cancer.  Cancer so bad that there wasn’t much to do.  The cancer would win.  My nannie, however, stayed strong and fought as much as she could.  We had family gatherings and spent as much time as we could with this woman.  But sadly, devastatingly, heart-breakingly, Nannie passed away in November of 1999 at the age of 60.  A young woman still with so many years of love and adventure left to live.  And my world crumbled.
I have never experienced pain like that in my life. Ever.  This woman was our world.  Our rock.  Our light.  And her death devastated me.  I still have not fully recovered.  To this day, even in this moment, I cannot think or speak of her without crying.  And maybe it’s because it was the first time I really experienced death and loss.  And maybe because she was just so full of life and love and liveliness.  I continue to mourn her loss each day.  But I also celebrate her life each day.
I live in my own world sometimes – hello, SandyLand.  I have adventures, I laugh my ass off – even at the most inappropriate things, I hug and kiss my nephews with so much love that I think they can’t stand it, and I have taught Abby how to play the first game of cards my nannie taught me to play.  And, just like my nannie, I play to win!
There are moments when I can be a real scrag.  I admit it.  But for the most part I try to live each day with goodness and love and laughter.  I want to continue to please my grandparents and not disappoint.  Because I know one day I will see them in Heaven and I know I will have to explain my actions to them if I’ve been a real asshole.
Each night I say a prayer for them – and my dearly departed Aunt Linda – and pray that they are all together and loving and watching and waiting.
I know, since the passing of my grandparents and of my aunt Linda, my mom and my aunt and uncles are pained.  They are broken-hearted, as we all are.  And sometimes it’s terribly difficult to get the family together for holiday celebrations or gatherings because it feels like the spark has gone out.  Like the house is empty and there’s really no point anymore. Because deep down – or even right on the surface – it’s so unbearably painful to celebrate our family when we’re no longer complete. Since my grandmother’s death, my mom (the eldest of her siblings {sorry I used the word “eldest”}) has pretty much taken over the role of the rock; the matriarch of our big but little family.  She always makes sure that no one is left out of Christmas gifts or celebrations.  She wants to honour everyone in the family – especially those who are no longer with us. But everyone sticks together.  As a family, we have had our moments, our ups and downs, that’s what happens in families sometimes.  But we love each other.  Parents, aunts, uncles, cousins.  We support each other.  And there are days we want to beat each other over the head with a golf club, but at the end of the day, when it comes right down to, our family is bonded with love and togetherness.  That is something we all inherited from Nannie and Grampie.
I want my family (my nephews, my future children) to feel like it’s Christmas morning – to feel that abundance of love and togetherness and that incredible light of love that I always felt at Nannie and Grampie’s.  Walking into my parents’ home I always feel the warmth and the welcoming I felt each time I walked into that house up the street.  And when I visit my cousins and my aunts and uncles I am always welcomed with open arms and smiles and hugs.  The way it was meant to be.  And the way it will be when we’re all together again.
~Sandy

Fight Club

If you are from my hometown then you are more than likely familiar with JR’s.  If you’re not familiar then let me give you a little background:
JR’s was this little bar – similar to a honky tonk, I’m guessing – that was dark and grungy and known for the people it attracted (if you’re picking up what I’m putting down) and the fights that broke out.  It was not my bar of choice, in fact, when I turned 19 and was old enough to drink and go out to the clubs, my mother nearly forbade me from going to JR’s.  She didn’t actually forbid me, which is why I did go to that spot on occasion, but it definitely was not my cup of tea. Nor my first choice of dance clubs.
One summer, however, my BFF Kim and I had planned to go to JR’s.  It was her first time going and it was a big deal.  It was the summer of Ghetto Superstar and we could hardly wait to rock out on the dance floor to that song.  (Lord, I’m getting old!)  The bar was packed.  There is a military base just outside of our town and Saturday nights the boys let loose.  JR’s was the bar of choice for these cats.  There is also a lot of agricultural business in and surrounding my communities – lots of farming of many types.  And a lot of farmers hired outside of Nova Scotia, back then mostly Bajans (read: Barbadians).
The military folk were cocky – arrogant SOBs who walked around like they owned the town, and the Bajans would hit on anything walking upright.  These two groups clearly did not see eye-to-eye.  (But then again, the military boys didn’t really see eye-to-eye with anyone.)
And then there was us:  locals.  Valley peeps just out for a good time, having a few drinks, dancing our butts off, and hanging with friends and people we knew from high school.
This night was special though.  Kim was my best friend.  I always felt like we were soul mates.  I partly credit her for helping me bust out of my shell and becoming the hilarious girl I am today; and I had promised her for so long that we would eventually go out to JR’s and we would dance our dance to Ghetto Superstar and it would be a fucking blast! And the night went pretty perfectly.  We danced.  We had a few drinks.  We mingled with friends.  It was summer and the night was young fun.
Ghetto Superstars

Oh my God the 90’s!  That’s me and Kim, Betty and Veronica (I’m the brunette) , the terrible two, gearing up for one of our infamous adventures in SandyLand.

Several times while we were on the dance floor, however, this young, drunk punk kept bumping into us.  The guy wasn’t very big but he was completely wasted and he was perpetually on the dance floor (alone) bumping and knocking and grating on everyone’s last nerve.  Y’know at first, everyone was like “Meh, it’s all good.  We’re cool.”  But after so many times you kind of can’t handle much more.
There was another young couple on the dance floor.  The guy was clearly military and he and his girl were dancing and making out – but minding their business and having fun.  McBumpy danced into them a few times and Military boy was obviously getting more and more annoyed.
When Ghetto Superstar was finally played Kim and I made our way to the center of the dance floor and broke out our dance moves.  We were stoked and we were literally having the time of our lives!  Then it happened, McBumpy bumped me again and again and again.  I know the poor dude was just out for a good time and should have been cut off long before, but I was seriously irritated and when he bumped me for the last time I made sure it was the.last.time.
I shoved him….and bam!  He cascaded right into Military dude and his woman.  Needless to say, Military dude had had enough by this point and he shoved him back, and then he smoked McBumpy.
This is where it gets realllllly interesting.  It was like a domino effect, but in reality, it was just the nature of JR’s.  Because right after Military dude punched McBumpy, someone else punched someone else.  And then someone else punched someone else….until a full-out brawl broke out.  I’m not even kidding.  It was like something out of a movie.  Dozens of people were fighting.  Even the bouncers were sucker-punching people (again, the nature of JR’s).  It was REDONKULOUS!
I grabbed Kim’s hand and we made our way outside of the bar as we ducked and avoided getting the shit beat out of us. Once outside, the scenery was exactly the same – fights were erupting everywhere.  Bajans and Military and Homeboys and Locals and Bouncers.  It was chaos.
One of my friends, who happened to be a former boxer, got a tap on the shoulder in the midst of all this.  When he turned around he got sucker-punched.  Big mistake!  I can still hear the sound of his fist connecting with the other guy’s face!
In the midst of this chaos Kim and I were trying to decipher what the hell we should do and how to get out of that bruhaha.  In the distance, we could hear the sirens wailing, and they got closer and closer.  Still holding hands, Kim and I bolted through the crowd, dodging fists and slaps, and ran through the back parking lot, through what can only be described as a tiny field back then; running, running, behind buildings, to safety – and far away from what was likely the biggest fight in JR’s history.  While we were getting out of Dodge, we looked back and saw NINE police cars already at the bar!!  I didn’t even realize our little town had nine police cars!  I’m sure more came later.
We roamed, quietly, the streets for a while, staying out of sight, until the hoopla died down, and eventually made our way back to my car and headed home.  But the night was so insane that, even though it was probably already 3am, we were so wound up from our crazy adrenaline rush that there’s no way we could have slept.  So, we drove to my church parking lot and climbed onto the hood of my Chevy Blazer (Dave) and stared at the stars.  The smell of summer is not something one can easily forget.  And that night is still vivid in my memory.  After a while of us just laying there in silence we cracked.  Uncontrollable laughter of what had just happened.  And all because we wanted to dance in peace.  That night we were ghetto superstars!

Minnie Driver and a Cuppa Joe

When I was in high school I started working at a Tim Horton’s coffee shop.  I worked there for 6 years.  And I never drank coffee.  Ever.

I couldn’t stand the stuff.  My dad is a coffee drinker – although I think he preferred instant back then, and my mom is a life-long tea drinker.  But neither were for me. In fact, the smell of the coffee at Tim’s gave me terrible heartburn.  I didn’t even know that was possible but it happened.  Often.
In school, kids would stroll into class with their morning brew in their refill mugs and I would think “WTF?  Why are they drinking that ghastly stuff?” Especially because, y’know, we were kids.  So, I went through all these years of my life not drinking coffee.
Then one year, in my very early twenties, I went to Montreal with a few friends for my birthday weekend.  Two of them had a sporting event, which I watched the first day and was so exhaustingly bored that I wanted to punch myself in the face just to stay awake, that I decided on day two to stay behind in the hotel and hang out by myself for the day.  I had some adventures on my own, which, back then was totally unlike me.  I hated doing things alone.  I needed someone with me at.all.times. (Thankfully I have grown out of that and love having my independent adventures.  I wish I could go back to that hotel in Montreal and LIVE IT UP!)
Adventure
On a stroll around the hotel on my own I came across one of the cleaning ladies’carts. It had an InStyle magazine on it, which, undoubtedly was left behind by one of the other guests after checkout.  So, being the badass that I was I snatched the magazine off the cart and kept on my merry way.
Back in my hotel room I devoured the entire magazine, reading each and every article. Actress Minnie Driver was the cover girl and there was a huge fashion spread with Minnie as the model, accompanied by a big article on her.  At one part in the interview she talked about getting up in the morning and sitting on her porch in her robe, reading the paper, taking in the scenery, while having her morning coffee.
Minnie Driver Instyle

This is the magazine I ripped off from a cleaning cart.

What?  Is this what adults do?  Is that what I’m supposed to do?  Be a grown up and read the paper* and drink coffee and wear a robe??  (*In my defense, I totally read the newspapers when I worked at Tim’s.  They were free reads while on our breaks in our tiny little break room.  And it was race to do the Lexicon first on Saturday!)
For some reason, that little article on Minnie has stuck with me all of these years since (and more than likely I probably still have the magazine in a box of other magazines or a desk drawer somewhere around my house).  And so, as the years have passed I have made my attempts to become a grown up and drink coffee in the mornings.  For a very long time I failed miserably.
And then one day it happened.  I had a cup of coffee.  Like a real grown up.  Maybe it’s because my taste buds have changed since I’ve gotten older – or since I started drinking wine), but I no longer cringed at the smell or the taste of a good brew.  I actually look forward to a small mug of joe in the mornings.  And, although I could never drink it black, I can enjoy a cup with just a little unsweetened almond milk or blended with a spoonful of coconut oil when I’m doing a Whole 30 program (aka eliminating sugar and all processed foods in all forms, etc.).
Summer is my favorite time – when I can sit outside in the sunshine while reading a book and taking in the scenery.  And I love weekend mornings when I can get up and put on a small pot and relax on the couch before getting my day started.  Drinking a little coffee in the morning makes me feel like I’m finally adulting.  (And thank goodness for Starbucks and whip for when I want to be a kid pretending to adult.)
I’m still working on the robe, though.  I have a few but I like my PJ pants and fleece socks and Banana Republic dresses to sleep in and lounge around the house in.  I’m not Mrs. Roper!
Isn’t it funny how one little thing can change your perspective?  Something as small as a cup of friggin’ coffee in the mornings.
Morning coffee

#adulting

~Sandy


SandyLand Stories

The other night I finished what was, I think, my 23rd John Grisham book.  And although I’d picked up three more of his on the weekend, I couldn’t wait to delve into Drew Barrymore’s Wildflower.

Drew-Barrymore-Wildflower

As you may know, I love Drew Barrymore. She is my all-time favorite actress; since the first time I saw her in E.T., I fell in love with her – with her spirit and her spunkiness, and I have since followed her career.  The ups and downs. The stints in institutions and rehabs, the bad movies, the badass moves.  I have followed the 90’s wild child and doted on her for years.

David-Letterman-Drew-Barrymore

The original wild child and my not-yet-met best friend (Drew flashing David Letterman in the mid-90’s)

And so, I have been waiting since I received this book for my birthday in October to read it but, 1. I had shit-tons of studying to do to prepare my nutrition exam and 2. I’m kind of addicted to John Grisham’s storytelling and am always anticipating completing one of his books so that I can immediately begin another.  This time, though, I forfeited Grisham to finally read Drew’s book.

And I am so glad I did. I started reading it Friday night, and now, Sunday, I am almost through it. This book is not an autobiography, although it is autobiographical in a sense.  It is a telling of some of Drew’s personal stories and memories.  It’s lovely.  And this book has made me miss writing.
This afternoon I was reading one of the “chapters” titled Flossy.  Flossy was Drew’s rescue dog which she had for nearly 20 years.  I remember reading about when Drew first adopted Flossy. I remember hearing about her in interview and seeing her in the background in magazine spreads featuring Drew.  And this story told the lifeline of this dog, this sweet companion to Drew, a lost soul longing for a friend who would be her lifelong mate and confidant.  And this story told of the demise of Flossy and Drew’s beautiful tribute to her once she passed (sorry, no spoilers! You’ll have to read the book.), and there I am, sitting in the gorgeous long-awaited sunshine, bawling my eyes out at the telling of the loss of this life love.  With tears streaming down my face and wiping my snotty nose on my arm, I was so completely moved by this memory.
Although I am a little bias because I still believe Ms. Barrymore and I should be best friends (squad goals), I will admit that she is not the best writer in the world. I even found a few grammatical errors *gasp*, but she’s a good writer.  And she’s a great storyteller; one that can clearly move me to tears – or laughter.
And so, being inspired by these stories, these little collections, I am committing myself back to my writing.  I am going to begin telling chapters of my life, albeit through this little blog, and I will share with you tales of my adventures, my reflections, my wisdom, my stupidity, and tales of just…my life.
I am not going to commit to writing every day or every week because life – work, teaching, mating, adventures – comes first.  And I like to live my adventures before sharing them.
But stay tuned….the first one will be right up.
~Sandy

Valentine’s ReBlog

Happy Valentine’s Day!  *barf*

Just kidding.  It’s been a pretty good weekend.  I spent it at my beau’s but he’s had a man-cold the last few days and woke up today feeling like a bus ran over him….twice.  Poor  guy.  So, we’re postponing V-day dinner and instead, I hit the gym to run a few miles.  Lord knows I don’t need to get sick.

But in the spirit of Valentine’s Day and it being completely overrated and lame I’ve decided to be super awesome and re-post my CRAPPY VALENTINE’S  from a few years ago.  (And once again WordPress has changed the format of the site and I’m trying to figure out how to add the link.)

Now that I’m home I’m going to sit back and binge watch Law & Order: SVU merely to catch up with Anic/StunBunny so that we can bond over our mutual love Peter Scanavino (aka Carisi):

Peter Scanavino

“How you doin’??”

and hope that this damn cold weather goes away soon – after all – that damn hedgehog DID NOT SEE its shadow two weeks ago and *this girl* is looking forward to less laying and way less road salt!

~Cheers