A visual.

Why do I have dark circles and bags under my eyes constantly?

Let me draw it out for you. Below is a graphical representation of our sleeping setup since my child has been teething.

As you can see from the beautiful drawing above, my child has taken ownership of our little queen bed. Joe and I have to hang on to our mattress for dear life while our precious child becomes the dash (-) to our little family H.

Throw in two fur ball cats, one of which can only sleep if she's on me in some capacity, and you have our sleeping setup in Casa de No Sleep.

I think we need a king bed, yes?

Babeh vs. Kitteh.

Let me preface this video with a disclaimer.  No kittehs were harmed during the filming of this video. Before any PETA activists come banging down my door, I can assure you that my stout cat likes the rough stuff which is why she kept coming back for more.  I broke up my babeh and my kitteh before it got too ugly. 

Anna has finally started learning how to properly pet a cat. However, the learning process is slow going. That's very apparent in this video. Baby steps, baby steps.

(Note: Looks like this SoapBox program is not working very well. I will upload the video elsewhere and replace it tomorrow. Sorry about that!)

Things I love.

Spinoff from my Things I hate post...

(In no specific order)

1. Diet Coke first thing in the morning. And basically all day and night.
2. My husband's smile. And his eyes. And his butt.
3. My daughter's smile. And her eyes. And her butt. ;)
4. My friends.
5. The smell of burning wood when it's cold outside.
6. The smell of fresh cut grass in the spring.
7. Ranch dressing.
8. Cherry Lime-Aids from Sonic.
9. Getting comments on my blog.
10. So You Think You Can Dance.
11. Real Housewives: New Jersey AND New York.
12. Spending time with my family.
13. Going to church with my mom on Sunday.
14. Watching my dad play with Anna.
15. Watching my grandparents play with Anna.
16. Facebook.
17. The Fall.
18. Watching football games in the fall (only when it's cold outside).
19. The smell of grilled food.
20. The smell of gas.
21. The smell of skunks (I'm not kidding).
22. Laughing with my sister.
23. Holidays.
24. Halloween.
25. Ghost stories.
26. Chocolate - lots of it.
27. Mozarella cheese sticks.
28. Chips and Salsa from Chili's.
29. Mexican food.
30. Cheese.
31. Elderly men and women who tell interesting stories.
32. Getting fun stuff in the mail like Etsy orders or stuff I've purchased from Ebay.
33. My blog.
34. Reading other people's blogs.
35. My childhood.
36. My car.
37. My In-Laws.
38. My pets (sometimes - side-eye to Harley the cat).
39. Abstract photography.
40. People who are kind to others.
41. Shopping for dresses for Anna.
42. Being a mother.
43. Pottery Barn knock-offs.
44. Dark wood.
45. Non-frizzy hair days.
46. The rain when I'm working from home.
47. Cool breeze coming through my windows.
48. Topher Grace.
49. Babies laughing.
50. Popcorn with tons of butter and salt.

I could keep going forever. I didn't realize how many things I loved until I started writing this. I encourage you to do the same. I feel uplifted now.

Someone is going to be terribly disappointed.

One man's trash is another man's treasure, right? That is, unless the trash smells like trash.

My cat Harley recently suffered from a UTI (urinary tract infection). Prior to getting her on some medication, she left a little piss present in my polka dot suitcase. I left it open on the ground after returning from a trip, and she took it upon herself to use it as a litter box. Yes, that's totally disgusting, but such is life when you own a pet. Cats are devious little suckers who like to do things like this to get your attention. Needless to say, she got my attention - one trip to the vet's office for some meds, and Harley is doing just fine.

My suitcase, on the other hand, is not.

It was kicked to the curb and left for the trash man to deal with. It's such a shame seeing as it was only used a handful of times and was in excellent condition. Wanting to avoid having all of my clothing smell like cat pee, I had no other choice but to throw it out.

I walked out to the car this morning and noticed that someone had taken the pissy suitcase off of our hands. I can just see how it all unfolded...

"Wow, look at that precious suitcase just sitting by the curb for the trash. I think I'll take it!"

5 minutes later.

"What is that smell?"

10 minutes later.

.. (person is passed out on the seat from the noxious cat piss odor)

Poor guy/girl. I hope they're not too terribly disappointed that their dumpster dive turned out to be a dud.

Who Wants a Pork Chop?

The back story...

I don't eat pork chops. So, what's with the blog name? My life, to be quite honest, is comedic. The random stuff that happens to me on a monthly, daily, hell, hourly basis is definitely blog-worthy. Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks so?

So, what's with the obsession with pork chops? Please keep reading.

To help you better understand my story, here's a little picture of the front door of my house.





This picture was taken before we moved in - the yellow and white papers on the door are not eviction notices, I promise. As you can see, the main section of the door is glass, so if anyone wanted to rob us blind, all they'd have to do is take a peek to see our goods. Once inside, they'd be disappointed to find that the only valuable thing we own is a broken camera and a Simple Human trash can.

On with it. God, I totally ramble. You will get used to this.

So, one night my husband (Joe) and I were sitting on the couch watching the tele. This is what boring people like us do every night. Halfway through whatever brainless program we were watching - probably a DVRd episode of Springer - I decided that I was thirsty and much too lazy to get up and fix myself a glass of tea. So, I lovingly asked my dear husband to fix me a drink. He just sat there and pretended he didn't hear me, much like he usually does. To sweeten the pot, I figured I'd give him a little flash of the ta-ta. What man can resist a boob the size of a small grape? Hell, a raisin? My man can't!

I called his name, and when he turned to look at me, I began the ta-ta flash process. Shirt was up, ta-ta was exposed, doorbell rings. Ding Dong. Here's the problem. You see my door. We had on the living room light and it was dark outside, no porch lights were on. The doorbell rang at the exact moment that my shirt was in mid-air. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that whomever was on the other side of that door got to see the goods. It was Mardi Gras 1998 all over again.

I kid, I kid.

Being the brave woman I am, I ran as quickly as I could to my bedroom to hide. Nothing like making it even more obvious, eh? Joe answers the door. It's our neighbor, and he's come bearing gifts. Er, a gift. Just one gift. That gift was a...

...

...

porkchop.

Just one porkchop. Not two. Just one. He came all the way over to our house to bring US (meaning Joe and me) ONE porkchop. We had never really even spoken to this man before and he randomly comes over to bring dinner for one person when he knows there are two people living in the house? That, my friends, was the most hilarious part of all. He got to see my boobs and all I got was a lousy pork chop that I didn't even get to eat because Joe woofed it down before I came out from hiding.

Niiice.

My friends have never let me live this down. They chose this blog name for me, and I hope to do them proud.

The contents of this blog will be random musings about my life, love, family, health, etc. There will be no structure here, so if you like a structured, predictable blog, leave.

Just kidding...sorta.

Here are a few of the topics up for discussion here (although ANYTHING and EVERYTHING goes):

My precious baby girl Anna.





My marriage.





My wonderful family.



My dog Cosmo.



My cat Harley.



My cat Chloe.



My sick obsession with American Idol and most reality television.



One Pork chop.


Until we meet again.