Life has been busy this summer and it doesn't look like it's going to slow down any time soon. Thank God for quick weekend getaways, which is exactly what we're doing this weekend. No beach anniversary trip for us this year. But no worries, fun will still be had and I can finally take a breath. Sore bellies from laughing so hard, hot weather, cold beer, and returning home feeling reset and ready to take on everything else that needs to be done is the plan.
Showing posts with label Party On. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Party On. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Let The Games Begin
Sometimes it's just not worth it to do-it-yourself. Between ripping out flooring and raising a floor, taking off old and bringing in the new, it's exhausting and I am quickly running out of time. Oh but the benefits of this home, especially financially, are monumental. Mortgage that is cheaper than rent? I'll take it, even with the remodeling.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Blocked
I am currently suffering from an incredibly awful case of Blogger's Block. In order to get over this I plan to throw out random bullcrap just to see if this gets me over the hump. If it does, Hurrah! If it doesn't, well shit, I dunno.
From the 'I'm the best wife in the history of evar' file:
Thomas has been wanting some bling for a while now. We've wondered from shop to shop, store to store, trying to find the perfect accessory for him. You know the one. Blingy, yet not too blingy. Shiny, but something that doesn't scream, "Hey! I'm a guido! Just need a pinky ring and more chest hair and I'm good to go!". What better way to show your love for all things jewelry while still maintaining your non-douchebag status than to sport some lovely baby blue box bling?
Yes, I know, it's perfect. And even though his birthday isn't for another couple of weeks I couldn't contain my excitement. The day it arrived in the mail I proudly handed him the beautiful box and watched his jaw hit the ground. He knew exactly what it was before he even opened it.
Note the pillow the bracelet came wrapped around. In some places you buy a bracelet and it comes wired down to come piece of velvet lined cardboard. When you buy from Tiffany it comes with it's own PILLOW. And bag. AND box. Lord.Have.Mercy.
From the 'I too am growing tired of talking/hearing about my own weight loss' file:
I can't help it though, it's like I'm obsessed with it. I would bet you that I think about calories and carbs and protein and calories spent and workout routines at LEAST 8-9 hours a day. The rest of the time is filled with eating, sleeping, doing actual work, staring at the TV mindlessly, Mafia Wars, sex, and/or sleeping.
The eating itself is completely insane. I HAVE to eat in order to lose weight. Seriously. How insane is that?! It used to be that I would go one or two days without eating and I'd drop 10lbs like it was nothing. Now? HA! Yea, right. Now if I don't eat, I don't lose weight. I don't gain muscle, I don't lose fat.
Yes, I realize this is not a scientific breakthrough on my part. This has been known for many a years, BUT it's new to me.
I am so very very close to a HUGE goal. So close I can smell it, I can see it. It's hard though. If my eating isn't right I lose all energy. If I eat too much I feel weight down. Eat too little I barely have the strength to lift that curl bar once, let alone the three dozen times I'm supposed to. It's frustrating and exciting all at the same time.
The world outside of our home is a cruel place. Everywhere we turn is food that we shouldn't eat. Food that we can't eat. By can't I mean we can, but unless we want to live on Gaviscon and Pepto the rest of the night it's better that we abstain.
From the 'It's about damn time' file:
Let's all congratulate Thomas on his new writing endeavor - The Quest to be Broly: True Tales From A Non-Gym Rat.
In this blog we will follow my fabulous husband in his quest to become stronger, fitter, an healthier. However, not sexier because, you know, he's already at max capacity for that.
He is funny and witty and there are pictures! So go read it, dammit.
From the 'Welcome to Texas! Now let's drink beer and play with firearms' file:
Last weekend was my annual office Christmas party out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The greatest thing about being in the middle of nowhere is you can have bad aim and worst case scenario you might shoot a tree. Or a cow. Whichever.
You may find the entire set of photos here but these are a few of my favorites:
It was cold out there. Like super duper freezing red nose cold. The booze and the Baileys in my coffee definitely helped.
I think someone was feeling pretty good at this point. We all headed out to the field to get our shootin' on.
Moo
He is so very very gangster.
Ugh. Seriously. Must I cheese it up in every single fucking picture?
There we go. Much better. Bad ass status: Confirmed!
Speaking of bad asses...
The bad assness was short lived. Oh well. At least I look cute with my pink gun.
We are so super cute. Finished shooting, heading back to the house for warmth. And more beer.
From the 'I'm the best wife in the history of evar' file:
Thomas has been wanting some bling for a while now. We've wondered from shop to shop, store to store, trying to find the perfect accessory for him. You know the one. Blingy, yet not too blingy. Shiny, but something that doesn't scream, "Hey! I'm a guido! Just need a pinky ring and more chest hair and I'm good to go!". What better way to show your love for all things jewelry while still maintaining your non-douchebag status than to sport some lovely baby blue box bling?
Yes, I know, it's perfect. And even though his birthday isn't for another couple of weeks I couldn't contain my excitement. The day it arrived in the mail I proudly handed him the beautiful box and watched his jaw hit the ground. He knew exactly what it was before he even opened it.
Note the pillow the bracelet came wrapped around. In some places you buy a bracelet and it comes wired down to come piece of velvet lined cardboard. When you buy from Tiffany it comes with it's own PILLOW. And bag. AND box. Lord.Have.Mercy.
From the 'I too am growing tired of talking/hearing about my own weight loss' file:
I can't help it though, it's like I'm obsessed with it. I would bet you that I think about calories and carbs and protein and calories spent and workout routines at LEAST 8-9 hours a day. The rest of the time is filled with eating, sleeping, doing actual work, staring at the TV mindlessly, Mafia Wars, sex, and/or sleeping.
The eating itself is completely insane. I HAVE to eat in order to lose weight. Seriously. How insane is that?! It used to be that I would go one or two days without eating and I'd drop 10lbs like it was nothing. Now? HA! Yea, right. Now if I don't eat, I don't lose weight. I don't gain muscle, I don't lose fat.
Yes, I realize this is not a scientific breakthrough on my part. This has been known for many a years, BUT it's new to me.
I am so very very close to a HUGE goal. So close I can smell it, I can see it. It's hard though. If my eating isn't right I lose all energy. If I eat too much I feel weight down. Eat too little I barely have the strength to lift that curl bar once, let alone the three dozen times I'm supposed to. It's frustrating and exciting all at the same time.
The world outside of our home is a cruel place. Everywhere we turn is food that we shouldn't eat. Food that we can't eat. By can't I mean we can, but unless we want to live on Gaviscon and Pepto the rest of the night it's better that we abstain.
From the 'It's about damn time' file:
Let's all congratulate Thomas on his new writing endeavor - The Quest to be Broly: True Tales From A Non-Gym Rat.
In this blog we will follow my fabulous husband in his quest to become stronger, fitter, an healthier. However, not sexier because, you know, he's already at max capacity for that.
He is funny and witty and there are pictures! So go read it, dammit.
From the 'Welcome to Texas! Now let's drink beer and play with firearms' file:
Last weekend was my annual office Christmas party out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The greatest thing about being in the middle of nowhere is you can have bad aim and worst case scenario you might shoot a tree. Or a cow. Whichever.
You may find the entire set of photos here but these are a few of my favorites:
It was cold out there. Like super duper freezing red nose cold. The booze and the Baileys in my coffee definitely helped.
I think someone was feeling pretty good at this point. We all headed out to the field to get our shootin' on.
Moo
He is so very very gangster.
Ugh. Seriously. Must I cheese it up in every single fucking picture?
There we go. Much better. Bad ass status: Confirmed!
Speaking of bad asses...
The bad assness was short lived. Oh well. At least I look cute with my pink gun.
We are so super cute. Finished shooting, heading back to the house for warmth. And more beer.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Weekend Recap On Wednesday Cause I've Been Busy
Friday: Happy hour after work with Thomas, co-workers, and other friends. Having a bar in the same parking lot as your office and only 10 miles from home is fucking WIN. Drank too much beer, of course.
Saturday: Woke up feeling like absolute death. Cursed my beer consumption. Then it was on to Crue Fest 2, bitches! Last year's concert was amazing and this year was EVEN BETTER.
Crue Fest 08 pics (holy Lord in Heaven did I have some fat face in those pictures.)
Crue Fest 09 pics (I brought the hotness.)
Also, beer was NINE.DOLLARS.A.BOTTLE. at the concert. NINE! DOLLARS! For some freaking beer! Thomas and I couldn't have gotten drunk at the concert or else we'd be homeless cause it would've cost us an entire month's rent. However, we did manage to get a decent buzz and had a blast. Even with the mass amounts of drunks and skanks and hot weather.
Sunday: Sleeping in, chillaxin' poolside, and enjoying a day of absolutely nothing. It was heavenly.
Saturday: Woke up feeling like absolute death. Cursed my beer consumption. Then it was on to Crue Fest 2, bitches! Last year's concert was amazing and this year was EVEN BETTER.
Crue Fest 08 pics (holy Lord in Heaven did I have some fat face in those pictures.)
Crue Fest 09 pics (I brought the hotness.)
Also, beer was NINE.DOLLARS.A.BOTTLE. at the concert. NINE! DOLLARS! For some freaking beer! Thomas and I couldn't have gotten drunk at the concert or else we'd be homeless cause it would've cost us an entire month's rent. However, we did manage to get a decent buzz and had a blast. Even with the mass amounts of drunks and skanks and hot weather.
Sunday: Sleeping in, chillaxin' poolside, and enjoying a day of absolutely nothing. It was heavenly.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
AAACCCHHHOOO!!!11tybillion!!!
There are several downsides to working with people who have small children at home. Other than the standard blah blah bullcrap that you have to hear about on a daily basis ("Oh my goodness, little Johnny said just the most ADORABLE thing last night at dinner." Eyeroll eyeroll eyeroll eyeroll) there is the chance that at some point you will be infected with some sort of disease thanks to them.
You have to admit, kids are pretty gross. They don't cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze, they pick their noses, and they shit on themselves for the first 2 to 3 years of their life. They are small cheeky bundles of walking germ infestation. I'm saying all of this because I am sick. Sick sick sick. And I'm putting the blame solely on the people I work with and their spawn because it's my blog and I'll do whatever I want.
Moving right along...
The Christmas parties on Friday and Saturday were both a success. Thomas and I looked lovely on Friday night and spent the evening rubbing elbows with his co-workers and also making fun of the drunk people/uncoordinated people on the dance floor. There was a decent mixture of both. I would like to tell you that I have pictures of the evening but I do not. I do, however, have a picture of myself with Santa (dude had a real beard and all. I even tugged on it.) but I seemed to have brought my extra chin with me that night so that's a big n-o.
I did manage to stay sober at the party (at $6.75 for a Bacardi and Coke I couldn't even afford to get a decent buzz going) and we got home at a decent hour. The next morning was my office party that's held at my boss' ranch each year. A ranch that is almost an hour drive from the apartment. Such a far distance away that I even questioned the decision to go outloud in the car on the way for just lunch and a $100 cash bonus. "Lunch better be good", I told Thomas.
We managed to make it out to the ranch on time and being the only two people there without children both Thomas and I stood and watched as the kids were let loose to run and scream and cry all they wanted. I call it Visual Birth Control and it's quite effective. After lunch some of us made our way out to the fields to do a little shooting (what? you don't bring your guns to your company Christmas party?) and beer drinking. The party was great and it was by far the best I've ever been to since working at my office. The Bailey's in my coffee, the extra $100 cash bonus, and the man by my side made it even better.
Oh and of course there were photos!
Mo's Office Christmas Party -08'! Guns, kids, cows, and liquor - a photo set!
You have to admit, kids are pretty gross. They don't cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze, they pick their noses, and they shit on themselves for the first 2 to 3 years of their life. They are small cheeky bundles of walking germ infestation. I'm saying all of this because I am sick. Sick sick sick. And I'm putting the blame solely on the people I work with and their spawn because it's my blog and I'll do whatever I want.
Moving right along...
The Christmas parties on Friday and Saturday were both a success. Thomas and I looked lovely on Friday night and spent the evening rubbing elbows with his co-workers and also making fun of the drunk people/uncoordinated people on the dance floor. There was a decent mixture of both. I would like to tell you that I have pictures of the evening but I do not. I do, however, have a picture of myself with Santa (dude had a real beard and all. I even tugged on it.) but I seemed to have brought my extra chin with me that night so that's a big n-o.
I did manage to stay sober at the party (at $6.75 for a Bacardi and Coke I couldn't even afford to get a decent buzz going) and we got home at a decent hour. The next morning was my office party that's held at my boss' ranch each year. A ranch that is almost an hour drive from the apartment. Such a far distance away that I even questioned the decision to go outloud in the car on the way for just lunch and a $100 cash bonus. "Lunch better be good", I told Thomas.
We managed to make it out to the ranch on time and being the only two people there without children both Thomas and I stood and watched as the kids were let loose to run and scream and cry all they wanted. I call it Visual Birth Control and it's quite effective. After lunch some of us made our way out to the fields to do a little shooting (what? you don't bring your guns to your company Christmas party?) and beer drinking. The party was great and it was by far the best I've ever been to since working at my office. The Bailey's in my coffee, the extra $100 cash bonus, and the man by my side made it even better.
Oh and of course there were photos!
Mo's Office Christmas Party -08'! Guns, kids, cows, and liquor - a photo set!
Monday, October 27, 2008
Taking Halloween Seriously
Thomas and I had been planning our Halloween costumes for months. We'd decided long ago what we would go as, what accessories we would need to procure, and even how one of us should act in order to really and truly play our parts well. We totally pulled that shit off on Saturday night.
I dyed my hair, painted my fingernails, sported an assortment of fake tattoos, and an apron in order to look like a beer bar waitress. Thomas, the bus boy, wore hairnets, a fake gold tooth, fake jewelry, a few fake tattoos of his own and carried around a towel and spray bottle (full of a very tasty concoction of blue Poweraid and vodka made to look like Windex). Oh and let us not forget the fake mustache. That really pulled the costume together.
Let me stop boring you with words and present to you the photos from that night. Needless to say, our costumes were outstanding and we had a friggin blast.
D-Ville Halloween Extravaganza 2008!
Click the thumbnail of the picture in order to view full size and description of what in the hell was going on.
P.S. I forgot to pick up fingernail polish remover yesterday and my hair is still pretty bright red. My boss said I looked "interesting" this morning. I responded by saying, "I'm sorry I look like a whore/goth/emo kid today but Halloween is just that important. You gotta do what you gotta do, man".
P.P.S. In real life Thomas is taller than I am. In one pic I look like I'm towering over him. Damn those six inch mary jane platform shoes that were just too damn cute to pass on.
I dyed my hair, painted my fingernails, sported an assortment of fake tattoos, and an apron in order to look like a beer bar waitress. Thomas, the bus boy, wore hairnets, a fake gold tooth, fake jewelry, a few fake tattoos of his own and carried around a towel and spray bottle (full of a very tasty concoction of blue Poweraid and vodka made to look like Windex). Oh and let us not forget the fake mustache. That really pulled the costume together.
Let me stop boring you with words and present to you the photos from that night. Needless to say, our costumes were outstanding and we had a friggin blast.
D-Ville Halloween Extravaganza 2008!
Click the thumbnail of the picture in order to view full size and description of what in the hell was going on.
P.S. I forgot to pick up fingernail polish remover yesterday and my hair is still pretty bright red. My boss said I looked "interesting" this morning. I responded by saying, "I'm sorry I look like a whore/goth/emo kid today but Halloween is just that important. You gotta do what you gotta do, man".
P.P.S. In real life Thomas is taller than I am. In one pic I look like I'm towering over him. Damn those six inch mary jane platform shoes that were just too damn cute to pass on.
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