Some of the hideous post ideas I started and trashed yesterday:
"My kitchen sink is drip...drip...dripping and aaaaaahhhhhhhhhstopit!"
"Dear Dog and Cat: How do manage to time your vomiting TO THE EXACT MINUTE we run out of paper towels?"
"Yeah, so I WANT to write another installment in the Deodorant Wars, but I've been struggling to come up with a plot line for my new stick of Dove Clinical Protection. Who IS she, as a character? What's her MOTIVATION?"
Then I was all: cop-out time! Noah photo! Belly photo! But then all the camera batteries were all simultaneously dead. Simultaneously and AT THE SAME TIME EVEN. Clearly, the blogging gods were against me, determined that I should keep at least a few damn thoughts to my own damn self. This was, judging by the above examples, probably for the best.
I don't really have much else to say today, other than to issue a warning to anyone in the DC area: hey! You know what's a bad idea? Like, a really, really bad idea? Blindly following your GPS, even when it's telling you to turn left onto a one-way, do-not-enter street that happens to be oh, directly in front of the PENTAGON.
Luckily, the cops let us off with a warning. "Try not to drive into any lakes next time, okay?"
Sigh. I've really got nothing today, except for the crushing need for my 27th burrito of the week. Take me to Chipotle, GPS! I can no longer find my way out of a paper bag, thanks to you.
Here. This is video of my kid screeching into my laptop's built-in camera for five straight unbearable minutes. Special cameo by my chins and belly.