Not Things I Love Thursday

I don't have anything I love to tell you about this Thursday (except these three bozos; they've got my heart. But I tell you about them all the time.). Hugh says I'm a slacker because it's only my second Thursday (I say make that two bozos who have my heart). I was trying to come up with a list of things and then I decided, don't force it, man. So instead I'm giving you this work of literary genius:

1. An example of a realization that is not rocket science: eating six Hershey kisses, three (mini) Reese's cups, and a fun-size bag (why yes, yes you are fun, little bag of chippies) of plain Lays does not set you up for a productive afternoon at the office. It sets you up for an afternoon of surfing the world wide web and watching the clock. And feeling very thirsty.

2. I really wanted the fun-size Doritos, but then I noticed the Lays and remembered a commercial about how their only ingredients are potatoes and sunshine. The Doritos ingredient list included Disodium Phosphate and Red 40. And no sunshine. Lays it is, for this marketing sucker.

3. Teen Mom. It's like crack*. It makes you feel so bad. But you just. can't. stop. I simultaneously love and hate the person who first made me watch 16 and Pregnant. A gateway drug if there ever was one.

4. I cooked with vegetable broth this weekend for the first time ever. Strange stuff with it's brown, mushroominess. Reason number 327 I don't want to read any books that are going to make me not want to eat animals. Reason number 1? Bacon, obviously.

5. Remember how I told you I fell this weekend? The damage:

Tough, right?** I'm not going to show you my hip. Because that would be like showing you my bottom (I know, bottom is weird right? But other word choices seemed decidedly unladylike). And this isn't that kind of website. Plus, I have to leave some things sacred and private for the one who cooks my carbonara. Because I tried to make that deliciousness myself and it was way less good. Also, don't be jeal of my awesome sweatpants.

6. I like to pick a new phrase every now and then and repeat it until it catches on and other people start saying it. Then I move on to a new phrase. Lately I've been saying, "I love it so much I just want to have thousands of little ____ babies with it." For example, "I love this new wallet so much I just want to have thousands of little wallet babies with it." I realize that this is a bizarre thing to say, so I only say it to Hugh. He, however, thinks it's my new phrase. Clearly he overestimates my ability to make things seem cool.

7. Don't you hate it when you get your haircut and no one even notices. Me too. Come on, coworker friends, I chopped off four inches! I realize this point makes it seem like I got far too much praise and attention as a child. That would not be an incorrect assumption. Next week I'm going to wear this wig to work and see if that garners any attention.

8. Do you hate getting your haircut? I do. Hair stylist conversation can be so, so awkward. And you know they feel the same way. Fun fact: since I have known Hugh, we have collectively seen thirteen stylists. In six years. And I only get my hair cut once every six months. This seems like a lot to me. Of stylists. Not hair cuts.

9. I am rocking some of my resolutions for January. Others I am failing dismally. Interestingly enough, the hardest one has been getting up before 8:25am when I'm working from home. This girl and my Mom are going to be shocked by that one. Check back at the end of the month for a full update.

10. I have company coming this weekend. It's scheduled to be the best kind of visit; that in which you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and you just get to talk and laugh and eat and drink wine and sleep in. Counting down the minutes!

11. I feel like I should give you a sussy if you read through to the end of this post. But Hugh and I are on a budget crackdown, so no presents for you. How about this: happy Thursday, friends.

*Hypothetically speaking, of course. I only dabble in the reds and the whites and the gins, no hard drugs for me.

**I think we can all agree it might be best to skip posting on a day when your best material includes a photo of your bruise. But I had typed this whole post before that crossed my mind. And it seemed a crying shame to waste it. Bummer for you; you're never getting that two minutes of your life back.