My Life Has Theme Music

This guy on Vines is not far from the truth when it comes to my fabulous life.

My Life is a Musical

I'm on the road currently, spreading my fuckery throughout the southwest. What does that mean for you nice people? All it means is that the quality of my posts may be slightly altered, as I have to write them on my phone with limited resources. Other than that, same fuckin blog, with the same fuckin content!!

Anyshoe. 

Husband has pointed out how increasingly my life has become a somewhat musical narrative, as he often catches me talking or singing to myself. 

It's pretty much exactly like that Vine, with completely improvised melodies, words, and occasionally cripple choreography. 

Why do I do it?

Because I'm bored and lonely for the most part, but also because I am so ridiculously talented I just can't stand to hold it all in!!!

I kid, I kid. 

Nothing I have to say or create is that inventive. Most of the time I just narrate what's happening with a sing-song lilt to my voice. If I need filler I'll insert a lot of "and then" or "and stuff."

If there's really nothing to mention, then I just "blah" all over the place. This usually means singing popular songs, but replacing the lyrics with "blah."

This especially drives husband crazy, which makes it all the more satisfying. 

Any Time Is Jenga Time

What happens when old buddies get their hands on Jenga,

while I drunkenly watch/narrate?

This.

 Some conclusions I have drawn from this event:

1) Jenga is apparently very fucking serious.

2) I suck at Jenga, pretty bad.

3) I am an obnoxious drunk.

4) I'm sorry I'm an obnoxious drunk.

5) Our sister, Mary, is incredibly stealthy,

having stayed up entirely too late,

and gone unnoticed even by the sober guys.

6) Grace is pretty obnoxious sober.

7)I have yet to get Grace drunk to test the other end.

8) I need to get Grace drunk.

Can I Get Some Cheese With This Whine?

 

I've got so much to write and no idea where to begin.

Everything feels overwhelming lately,

with tasks as mundane as getting out bed becoming 

an incredible exertion of effort.

My mental health seems to be well managed,

but my body is rebelling against all my ambitions.

I was crying to Grace the other day about it,

not literally, calm down with the sympathy tissues,

about how I can't be the overscheduled workaholic

like I used to be, with a full 16 hour day of to-do's.

 

 

We had gone to a grocery store to pick up a few things,

and by a few things I mean literally a few,

not some epic coupon trip for stocking up;

just get in, grab some items, and go.

 

By the time we had reached checkout,

I felt about as winded as those Olympians looked

during the biathlon trials.

It was ridiculously frustrating.

We had two or three other stops planned,

which in my mind then seemed like

asking me to scale Mount Whitney.

I keep fantasizing about work,

missing out on potential income

and making a positive effect.

And then I have days like this,

in which I have to accept I really am

disabled, at least for the time being,

I hate it.

I've been trying to teach Grace some 

tricks in cooking, as well as budgeting,

and after five days of teamwork,

it's taken me equally as much time to recover.

Wah, wah, wah, I know,

but I like to go and go and go,

but I'm stuck going slow.

And rhyming apparently.

Hopefully I'll feel stronger tomorrow,

and be able to muster up something

funny or at least entertaining.

The Prodigal Blogger

Hello friends, I've missed you!!

It's been a hectic two weeks,

and it's only going to get worse,

as I've taken a sister under my wing

to teach her how to do grown up things.

I'm the picture of adult maturity.

It all started when my brother and his wife arrived

in California with our sister, Grace, in tow,

as well as a pleasant surprise -

the promise of a new family member!

Yes folks, that's right, I'm going to officially be an aunt.

I say officially because really I'm one of those

communal relatives, shared with all children as a parent figure.

I'm pretty damn excited, since this is about as motherly as I get.

My John claims he doesn't care what gender comes out,

but deep down I know he wants a boy,

in all his snips, snails, and puppy dog tailed glory.

I'm quite sure I'll be getting a nephew,

because boys are harder for me to handle,

and God likes laughing at me.

After they laid that whopper on our family,

they enlisted me to help them inform the extended family.

It was then I realized I had truly come into my final form -

I was the consigliere of the Kedrowskis.

I am often the one called upon to check up on people,

arrange meetings, and spread whatever news.

So with all this good news and visitors,

I've been a little preoccupied.

I promise more content is on the way,

as Husband and I have another adventure coming up!