Mattress has bonded with P1. They like to chase each other back and forth on our little sofa. No matter how many times Mattress knocks P1 to the floor, P1 shakes it off and gets right back up there and bites Mattress' tail. It's glorious. God, it's like I'm one of those people who can't shut up about her kids. To further that point, ET is chomping away on some collard greens. He is in sulcata heaven right now. He gets to spend his days outside pooping and eating grass, and his nights in his warm terrarium munching on some greens. Life is good.
I have accomplished a goal a set awhile ago: getting The Boy addicted to Homicide: Life on the Streets. It was so easy to do really. He tried to resist and say he didn't want to watch another cop show, but I knew he was a sucker for this kind of awesome acting. How amazing is that cast? Right now (one of the four episodes that composed the second season) Munch is telling his fellow detectives about how the future is going to be the "electronic highway," and that we'll never have to leave our Sealy mattresses again. Munch totally saw in to the future. I can't believe that was 16 years ago. Thanks Homicide for making me feel old. People, if you have not watched this series or only caught an episode here and there, rent it from your outlet of choice, sit down, and watch all seven seasons. NOW!
My head was crushed between two bricks this morning, squeezing all the snot out of my head, thus I was late to work. Somehow I managed to get to work and looked better than I have in ages. I didn't even wear make-up. Hello, I am 35 years old, and I still look damn cute when I wear my hair like Heidi of the mountains. My cool glasses only made me look more chic. Orange-red shirt from Anthro (Ivy and I bought the same shirt figuring we'd never accidentally run in to each other wearing it on the same day) and brown cords. It sounds kind of slobby, but not at all. This is important, and not just self-flattery, I rarely feel attractive these days, no matter how much The Boy says I am (and usually completely unbidden). Maybe it is just because my skin has been very bad to me of late. I am beginning to believe that as a child I just never paid attention to adults' faces to see that they had acne. This adult skin is just not playing nice.
My boss got an Italian cream cake for one of our managers who is retiring. They placed what was left of the cake on my desk so us peons could get our grubby hands on it. However, it was late in the day and almost no one was left at work. I eyed it suspiciously since the icing was melting and undoubtably cream cheese in flavor (if I haven't puked in my hand for all of you over the grossness of cream cheese, then consider this the official vomit-in-palm moment). To show that I really am taking my Crucial Conversations lessons to heart, I asked Twit if she wanted some of the cake. She immediately said no, then asked where it came from. I thought that was funny. I did not poison the cake. I actually brought it home and shared a piece with The Boy. The icing was as foul as I predicted, but hey, I had no idea Italian cream cake had coconut in it. How did I not know this? That cream-cheese icing totally hid the deliciousness underneath. Stupid jerky icing.
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