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Mail is awesome.

I have the best friends a girl could ever hope to have. Unfortunately, they keep moving away from me. They do know how to send some pretty killer care packages which doesn't make up for the thousands of miles wedged between them and me but it does count for something.

Here are the contents of the last two I got:

#1 West Coast: No note, no card, no letter. Just the following items:
  • Farmer's market beef jerky
  • Pale green nail polish (Peas and Q's)
  • A mixed cd called "Cupcakes and Milk"
  • Mad Libs for grown ups called "Kiss me, I'm single"
  • Fruit Stripe gum
#2 East Coast: An adorable card that said, "Hope this entertains you and your bum foot for at least 5 or 6 minutes."
  • Homemade granola bars
  • 3 tank tops
  • A whole bunch of books
  • Jalapeno stuffed green olives
  • Sweet notecards + a matching pad of paper
Could they know me any better? No. It isn't even possible.

In the spirit of sending and receiving fun mail, I'm going to send someone a mini-care package.
If you need a little pick-me-up, or just love getting mail that isn't a bill, leave me a comment with your email address. {International entries are fine.} One person will be picked at random on Thursday!


It stinks.

Know what stinks? {Other than the fact I still can't walk? I have updates on that front, too, but wasn't in the mood to get into my lame life today. Get it? Lame? Because I only have one good...yeah. Anyway.}

My house.

Tuesday it was so nice outside that I opened all of my windows. The rents came over to make me dinner and halfway through eating our grilled halibut my dad started sniffing the air. "Do you smell that?" It stank. Like burning hair. Dad followed his nose to the backyard and came back to report, "Don't worry. It's just burned fish skin."

Great. Thanks. Burned fish skin.

Yesterday when I got home from work I picked up a bottle in the sink that had some bleach in it to try to get this gross moldy stuff out of the bottom. Only the top of the bottle wasn't screwed on and when I picked it up, the bottom fell into the sink and splattered bleach water all over me, my dress, the wall, sink, colander, counter...the list goes on and on. At least that got rid of the burned fish skin smell.

Then, last night it was once again drop dead gorgeous so I opened the windows. My roommate/brother went out back to the patio and the next thing I knew the entire house smelled like cigar smoke. Not an awful smell until it starts seeping into your couch and linens and...

Yeah. Not cool.

So, I lit some girlie candles {shut the windows} and called it a day.


Hard to resist

I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure one of the hottest things ever is having to duct tape trash bags to your leg in order to take a shower. Pretty sure.

Although not being able to get the permanent marker signature of your anesthesiologist off your leg has to be right up there, too. I mean, I'm glad they mark the correct leg to avoid any confusion on where to operate but still...

So just to recap, I'm a hot mess really hot right now.

P.S. The color has been removed from these pictures to spare you from having to see the gross bruises around my leg from the tourniquet. Actually now that I think about it, that's pretty sexy too!


Orville understands me.

Since my surgery I've been wanting popcorn like crazy. Unfortunately, my pain meds have made my stomach wonky so I haven't been able to eat much of it but when I saw this commercial it made me crack up because I know exactly how the poor kid feels.

Summary of my life: crutches suck and popcorn is delicious.

(Sorry the video is a little wider than the column...if anyone knows how to change the code for my site and can help me make the middle column bigger let me know. I need you!)

(UPDATE: Mr. Confusador has fixed the column! Yay. )
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