That's not so much of a post title as it is a command. To myself. I have absolutely nothing to talk about today, in particular, and I even spent the entire weekend wishing extra hard that *something* worth blogging about would happen. The following is the closest it ever got to that point:
1) I saw Paranormal Activity 3 on Friday. This was by choice, at my own damned insistence, even though the first two movies just about turned my nervous system inside out. WHAT'S THAT NOISE OH MY GOD SOMEBODY GO CHECK THE POT RACK FOR SIGNS OF DEMONIC POSSESSION, etc. While waiting for Jason to come back with the popcorn, an entire family waltzed in, with a whole pack of kids ranging from preteen all the way down to no more than four years old. Being the tireless champion for children that I am, I glared pointedly at the parents and bitched about them on Twitter.
The coming attractions started and I continued my silent judgy fuming, waiting for one of the kids to lose his or her shit over sci-fi horror trailers about people disintegrating or whatever the hell, even I know better than to pay attention to anything advertised during the ONE horror movie I watch in an entire year.
Finally, by the third or fourth IN A WORLD WHERE ZOMBIES FROM MARS KNOW HOW TO OPERATE BEAR TRAPS style trailer, the family was up and hustling the kids back down the aisle and loudly arguing about theater numbers and hissing to the children that YEAH SORRY I DON'T THINK THIS IS PUSS IN BOOTS YOU GUYS.
The movie went on to scare the crap out of me, but not as much as the first two. Mostly because the mother character was kind of dumb. Look, lady, it's not MY fault you're trapped in a unnecessary prequel and didn't learn the rules from the first two movies, you know? If you're just gonna be all "I know crazy shit is going down but I refuse to watch the readily available footage of said crazy shit going down on principle of something something conveniently muddled character development" I can't help you. The previews are trying to tell you something. I'm just here to silently judge you until you figure your own crap out.
(Jason was even more adamant that this installment was inferior to the first two, however he was noticeably less confident in this opinion around 4 am when I snuck downstairs and fired up the old electric breast pump once it became clear that Ike wasn't going to wake up anytime soon and I was uncomfortable. RRRR-rrr-RRRR-rrr-RRRR-rrr-I'M IN UR HOUSE, POSSESSIFYING UR BOOBS.)
2) I got my hair cut and colored. (This is what I was dealing with before.)
It's a little fluffy. But hopefully not too Mom Hair? You know, when you reach that point where long hair is just too much so you aim for that perfect short-but-not-too-short cut that still goes into a ponytail without falling too much in your face and doesn't need to be blowdried or curled and even though you're almost 34 years old you haven't yet realized THAT PERFECT HAIRCUT DOESN'T EXIST and suddenly you're like, oh God, the Rachel.
I completely lost my grip on that sentence. In other news, I am eating Elmo crackers for lunch.
I really hope that block of cheese is not to scale.
3) I keep finding my underwear hidden in the corners of my dog's bed. Repeatedly. The weirdest part is that it's always, consistently a thong.
I suppose I should be...flattered?
(And also stuffed pigs, yes.)
I bought half a dozen apples on Saturday. He has already eaten all of them. I've always viewed fresh fruit (FRESH FRUIT!) as one of those free-for-all anytime-you-want kinds of snacks, and by "always" I mean "in my dreams" because Noah has never touched any sort of fresh fruit on the non-banana variety with pointed stick in his entire life. Ezra, on the other hand, will eat an entire pint of raspberries or blueberries in a single sitting, has been throwing periodic tantrums over the package of fresh cranberries in the fridge that I will not let him eat, and I spent most of yesterday having to forcibly remove apple cores from his sticky little fists because if you let him, he will eat the ENTIRE THING, poisonous seeds and all. Last week he handed me the stem and that was it.
5) Noah wrote a book, you guys. After watching a little bit of Diary of a Wimpy Kid on TV, he asked for a diary of his own. I gave him a spiral-bound notebook and a purple crayon (like Harold, OF COURSE) and told him he could doodle a little bit in bed. The next morning he presented me with a complete masterpiece, with illustrated scenes from several of his favorite books and movies blended together to tell the story of a boy and his bunk bed, and one time the boy got sent to the principal's office but then he also stopped being afraid of dressing up for Halloween. The final page says: THEE EN.
And I will be dragging that notebook around with me until the day I die. THEE EN!
6) Imma just gonna leave this right here: