I don't want to smell like a hoochie

For my birthday my mother gave me a beautiful pair of earrings. (Thanks again, Ma!) Inside the gift bag she had tossed a couple of perfume samples as she knows I dig smelling lovely and fresh. But at the sight of one of the samples I had to cringe.
"Paris Hilton?!"
If there is anything more Not Lovely and Fresh it would be Paris Hilton and her perfume. I mean, really, is there any need to explain it?
My birthday was a month ago and I just came across that same sample this evening. Curious (or bored, take your pick), I opened the card that enclosed the sample and read what was written inside:
"Share a bit of the magic that is Paris Hilton. Find out what it smells like to be a Star."
Like, Gag Me With A Pitchfork!
I could think of several words to describe Ms. Hilton. "Star", unfortunately, would not be one of them.
What would YOUR word be?


It's the little things

My first instinct when sitting down here was to whine incessantly about how bad work was last night. Cause it really was bad.

But then I thought that I'd spare you that whine (alas, I had no cheese....get it?) and impart the moment when all that crappy stuff from last night went away in my mind and it settled, contentedly, into domestic bliss.

I woke up to find my littlest bug, Abigail, cuddled in my bed with me, sleeping like an angel. And no sooner had Abby started to stir when my first bug Emily came in and gave me a big hug. My babies.

And while I sit here, reveling in the warmest thoughts of motherhood, Emily comes over to me and gives a rousing performance of armpit farts.

Who could ask for more?


I just realized...

...that I have nothing to say.
Nothing witty or exciting to impart. No new funny anecdotal stories about my girls (doing wonderfully, by the way). Nothing dripping with just the perfect amount of sarcasm to barely register on the Richter scale. And I am so tired of complaining about my job with my coworkers that I have no energy left to do it here. Coming up with something that will keep people interested, and in doing so, keeping myself relevant, is becoming such a chore.
I wonder if I have Blogger's Block?


Living at the library

I swear I should move in.
I have spent most of the last couple of months in and out of the library, borrowing everything that I can get my dirty little hands on. Books! CD's! Books on CD! Movies! While Supplies Last!
It's been great.
I think the library staff knows me by now. If it's not for the sole reason of checking my items out then it's for me paying fines for returning movies late. I swear my late fees are funding the library.
But my deep relationship with the library is about to come to a screeching halt, I fear. Classes resume August 20th and I'm registered for 12 credit hours. Oh, and IF I get accepted, I'll be working 20 hours at the college for a work study program in addition to the 40 hours that I work already.
Yes, I have in fact lost my ever loving mind.
I'm not sure when I'm going to study. Is the library open at 2 in the morning?