I've got nothing, folks. NOTHING.
No amusing anecdotes, no happy tales, no sad stories.
I've got nada. Zippo. Zilcho. Nil. Bazonga.
I've just been busy living, trying to maintain my sanity this horrid holiday crowd-bringing month.
I've gone shopping for toilet paper and groceries. I sat and pondered on how to blog about that, but nobody wants to hear about my great deal on soup or the fluffy soft Charmin that caresses my ass, so I'm screwed.
I've bought Christmas gifts. Who hasn't?
My brother turned 21 yesterday. Alas, no alcohol and hooker-filled party, so I have no material.
The Dictator learned how to ride a bike. It was cute and precious, and meaningful enough to bring tears to our parental eyes...but nobody else has DNA invested in him, so what's the point?
Although, I did manage to snap this shot of him after taking off his helmet, and it's so awesome I almost tried to drag it out into a 6-paragraph blog entry.
I weighed in at WW and I'm still fat. SURPRISE!
The Hormone King got his braces off and we found out he has teeth the size of Montana. I'm praying his cranium keeps growing, because his adult-sized teeth in his kid-sized head is a little awkward.
We went to dinner with some friends and my pal Erin took this family photo of us.
I spent a good 35 minutes trying to figure out why my boobies are trying to run away from my chest and are sliding down my stomach instead. Apparently my bra was on break that night.
I'm growing out my nails. Somebody give me a medal.
See what I mean? I'm just...living.
In a totally non-amusing way.
So, once my dogs barf up something cool, or The Dictator uses inappropriate words at appropriate times, or The Hormone King becomes even more hormonal (like that's possible), or I go ballistic on a fellow preschool mom, or I finally reach the breaking point with my Bluetooth and shove it some unfortunate fellow's ass...I'll be back.
But for now, I just really want to sleep. And take a bath. And read. And not function in any capacity.
Nothing, folks. Nothing. Just life.