Show us your sausage!

Hey!  What is this picture?  This is a family blog!  What do you do when you have a friend named Steph who bought a Groupon for fresh sausage and then ended up with so much sausage that she couldn't even keep it all in her own freezer?  If you're us, you throw a party called Sausage Fest 2011.  And if you're me, the first picture you take at Sausage Fest is this:

And if you're Matt, right now you're like, "Is that my area posted on the Internet?" which, yes-it is.  Alas it was not that kind of Sausage Fest, you guys.  Even though I really wanted it to be.  It was a cookout filled with sausage (zing!). And me making inappropriate sausage jokes.  We made friends with a 24 year old who lied to us and told us we were fun and young.  And Chicken Noodle taught Paul and Jen's 2 year old son how to throw a plastic lawn chair into a pool.  Also...we ate bear sausage. 

That...is insanely bright red.  Like I mean that appears to have come directly out of the bear and then placed on the grill.  I spent most of the time staring at it in horror.  That is, when I wasn't taking pictures like this and giggling:

I am 13. 

P.S.  That is my brother in law, Drew, holding that sausage while wearing a wifebeater tank and an apron.

I like Australians

We are fucked up.  Like as a whole, humanity is fucked up.  I think we can all agree, right?  I'm not saying it's irreversible or anything, but I think we can all admit we're heading down a frightening path.  All you have to do is turn on MTV for 10 minutes if you disagree.  That being said, we must be doing something right if God (or if you don't believe in God, the universe) gave us the Hemsworth brothers.

This is good.  This is all very, very good.  Consider me 100% on the Hemsworth bandwagon.  And I looked it up, and the young one Liam (top) is legal so it's not totally creepy that I wrote this.  It's still a little creepy, though. 

Finally, a post for the gentlemen!

Post from the Past: The Royal Wedding

So I'm not sure if you guys knew this or not, but Prince William and Kate Middleton got married. It's true! Not only did they get married, they got married butt-ass-early US time. Stupid International Date Line spinning planet revolving around the sun! What? I'm educated. Anyway, a royal wedding is like Steph and Meg's Christmas. As such, we had to celebrate. We did that in the following 2 ways:

1. Two weeks before the wedding, we held a hen party in Kate's honor. I believe that is the term for a bridal shower in England. We decided to do this at Steph and Meg's favorite British pub, The Old Angle. Sidenote/confession: I've been going to The Old Angle for years and totally thought it was an Irish pub. They have an Irish bartender there! Whatever I don't even care. I love pubs of all kinds. They have dark wood and fun employees and fish 'n' chips and vodka and that is all good with Sarah. Anyway, since Kate wasn't there and we couldn't give her presents, we all donated money to a Women and Children's shelter. Also we had to speak in British accents. Unfortunately for everyone around me, I could only do one by repeating lines from movies and plays I'd seen with British people in them. And on that day that meant Gavroche from "Les Miserables" and Oliver Twist from "Oliver!" so I kept telling everyone what little people can do and asking for some more gruel. Christy hung up some paper wedding bells at the bar and some of the girls wore lovely hats or "fascinators" as I have learned is the correct term for the feathery doo-dads. Here's a picture of one of us wearing a fascinator:

2. The day of the wedding was a Friday and television coverage started at 4am. So obviously we went to Steph's house. Actually we didn't start till 6am so it wasn't as bad even though it was still horrible. Steph had a party at her house at 6am on a Friday morning. Normal? Of course not, but boy did a lot of us show up. I guess we are seriously okay with having a party at any time of the day. Steph laid out a bunch of traditional British fare-tea, scones, crumpets. And pizza. Diane and I were like, "What's with the pizza?" And Steph goes, "We're still in America!" My favorite part about that exchange is that instead of recognizing that Diane and I were asking about the pizza because it was 6am-not a usual time to eat pizza ("Speak for yourself." - my brother-in-law), Steph immediately took the patriotic pride stance. Everyone knows pizza was invented in America. As I said, a bunch of us showed up, including our friends Chicken Noodle (Bill) and Katie who upon calling Steph to be let in to the building announced, "William and Kate are in the lobby."

Since it was so late in the morning, and I am a morning person, I was a pleasure to be around. <--OPPOSITE SENTENCE. I was actually very crabby until I had my juice. And by juice I definitely do not mean champagne of which there was none at this party since it was a Friday morning-what do you think we are, irresponsible adults? At one point I asked if Mr. Bean was at the wedding and then giggled like an 11 year old because that's how I roll. Meg immediately was like, "He's there. They already showed him." Then we laughed about how the President of the United States was not invited, but Mr. Bean was. That's my kind of wedding. After a couple hours of not drinking champagne and me not stuffing my face with shortbread cookies, it was time to go to work. Isn't that how every party ends, though?

A few quick thoughts on the wedding itself: Kate looked gorgeous, William looked like he was trying to have fun but kind of wanted to puke, Harry looked ready to get this m-effing party started, the kiss on the balcony was L-A-M-E so I hope they did it up real nice on their honeymoon, Harry is hot and I thought inviting intergalactic guests from neighboring alien nations was a nice touch:

No love in the elevator

I have been trying to post for 2 hours. I've lost 3 posts. Why are they trying to keep us apart, Internet? Let's try something simple. A guy on the elevator just asked me how my day was going, and told him I was really busy cuz I just got back from a few days off, and I feel like the first day back should be easy. As soon as I didn't just say "Fine", he looked super annoyed that he asked. Then I was super annoyed because what kind of question is "How is your day going so far?" That's not something you ask a stranger if you just want them to say "Fine." That question is too fancy and demands an answer. Just ask me, "How are you?" So we can pretend we're having a conversation we we're really just passing time.

I hate elevators.

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That's what he said

Drew, my brother-in-law, after I told him the story my air conditioner guy told me of the time he found a nest of baby mice in an air conditioner unit:

"That's rata-ew-ey."

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So...what's up?

Whoa-jury duty was rough.  Especially when Alec Baldwin tried to kill me and my son, and we had to go into hiding for a month with no computers or wi-fi or cell phones or Internet cafes.  Oh who am I kidding.  I can't lie to you guys.  You'd never believe I knew what an Internet cafe was.  So I owe you an explanation for my absence, but nobody wants to hear the boring truth which is that I've been in almost constant pain from my migraines for the past month.  So please come up with a much more exciting reason and pretend it's that.  It's way less of a bummer.

I'm back now, and I owe you big time so I promise you 2 things:

1.  Tomorrow I am going to attempt to post something every hour on the hour.  Yeah.  I said it.  And when I say every hour on the hour I mean from like 9am to the end of the workday.  Or bedtime.  Or whenever I run out of things to say.

2.  I'll be Jay Leno-ing this bitch and discussing outdated world events.  Hope you're still excited about Osama!

In the meantime, just to give you an overall idea of what I've been up to:

BAM!  NSFW!  Steph and I drew these at a wine bar while Matt looked on horrified and by "looked on horrified" I mean "told us we were doing it wrong".  Sorry, Mom and Dad.

The Rural Juror*

Tomorrow I begin jury duty.  I have never been called for jury duty before so I'm not exactly sure what to expect.  To prepare, I watched "The Juror" starring Demi Moore and Alec Baldwin.  Here is the plot summary:

"When Annie Laird is selected as a juror in a big Mafia trial, she is forced by someone known as "The Teacher" to persuade the other jurors to vote "not guilty". He threatens to kill her son if she doesn't commit. When the trial is over, he can't let her go..."

I'm fairly sure this is how it will be for me.  So now I will watch "The Sopranos" to figure out how to deal with the mob.  Just kidding, I'm going to watch "Corky Romano".  No not really-I will not put myself through that.  Again. 

Actually let me just put this out there for any Mafia enforcers thinking of using me as the person to convince a jury of something:  I will make an absolute nightmare juror.  I can't even make a decision about where to go to lunch without it turning into the most trying ordeal anyone around me has ever experienced.  If someone says, "Where do you want to go eat?", I just shut down.  I will not decide.  John, unfortunately, has taken the brunt of this indecisiveness so when I told him I pulled jury duty, he had some comments:

"Being on a jury with you would mean me facing a jury shortly after."

"If you make it on a jury it will end up being a hung jury...because everyone else will hang themselves while you decide."
Things I am wondering:
1.  Will there be a lawyer there that looks like Matthew McConaughey?
2.  What if the judge tells me to dismiss something I just heard?  How can I do that?  I can't unhear something.  Like I can't unhear the Daughtry remake of "Photograph".  It's in there.
3.  Will I get a chance to say, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"?

4.  Can I use this technique to get out of jury duty?

*Tell me you watch "30 Rock".

Words of the day

supermassive black hole - noun - the largest type of black hole, formed when two or more galaxies collide.

Example 1: At the center of the milky way sits a supermassive black hole.
Example 2: The song "Supermassive Black Hole" by Muse kicks serious ass.


superboyband - noun - the largest type of boy band, formed when two or more amazing boy bands, picked directly out of Sarah's dreams, collide.

Example 1: The New Kids on the Block and the Backstreet Boys have come together to form a superboyband called NKOTBSB.
Example 2: I am so excited to see the superboyband, NKOTBSB, on tour and to hear their new album (!) that I think I need a change of underwear.

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Sometimes the blog writes itself

Today we have what is essentially a guest blogger because I am just copying and pasting an email Steph sent us on Thursday.  The set up:  Steph and Meg babysat my nephew Trevor Wednesday night.  Thursday morning we all received this email:

So last night, the Babysitter’s Club volunteered to watch Trevor. When Drew and Diane came home before 11, admittedly, the babysitters were both asleep on the couches. Hey, Steph and Meg aren’t as young and fun and full of energy as we were when we were young…which it seems Trev had a problem with. I was looking at my cell phone today and it appears when we fell asleep, Trev had quite a wild night. I swung by daycare on my way to the office to ask him about it this morning and this is what he told me.

He said he had to escape the constant supervision of his ever so serious and responsible and appropriate and amazing babysitters and snuck out of the house to have a night on the town. He decided to start the night with a Peep show, but somehow found himself pulled up on the stage.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

“Hey, what do you expect to happen when you are a chick magnet?”
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

The chicks were sweet and he admittedly drooled over them…

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
Then Trevor met some Playboy bunnies and they gifted him an official set of bunny ears.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

He got a little drunk off the attention from the lovely ladies…

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

But, like all girls, these ladies want a commitment and Trev had to tell them no way and find his escape route…

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

He retreated to a guys night to hang out with his “dawg” (as Randy Jackson would say).

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game…
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


For those other parents reading this…Meg and I are open for business. Our rates are incredibly reasonable…we don’t charge anything, but we will eat your junk food, call boys, and pass out on your couch…but your baby will have a great time!

Things/People that have fallen the past week

1.  Butler University

2.  Kirstie Alley and Maksim Longname

3.  Southwest Flight 812 (20,000 feet in the sky)

4.  Not gas prices

5.  Me

Yes it's true-fucking UConn won the tournament.  Oh and I fell this weekend.  I know everyone is surprised as I am usually the very picture of grace and poise.  Let me describe the events as they happened:

Saturday evening, 6:30pm:  I clamp my 450 degree flat iron down on my left forearm

Saturday night, 12:30am: An almost full bottle of wine tips over in my fridge, the top pops out, wine spills all over the bottom of my fridge and into a huge puddle on my kitchen floor.  It's my favorite wine. 

Sunday evening, 5:30:00pm:  I walk into my house, my arms filled to the max with stuff including an 18 roll pack of toilet paper (it should last me a couple days).  My ankle gives out and in slow motion I begin my long descent onto my ass but not before realizing that I'm also falling onto my wooden laundry drying rack which is full of clean clothes.

Sunday evening, 5:30:15pm:  I'm on the floor looking around for witnesses which makes sense since I was in my house and I live alone.  My knee is throbbing, my arm is screaming.  I realize with horror that I have squeezed the Charmin.  The laundry rack...is no more.  We did battle.  It lost.  Goodbye, sweet laundry rack that I've had since I was a freshman in college.

Sunday evening, 5:35pm:  I realize the reason my arm literally feels like someone is sandpapering an open nerve is that I landed on my horrible, most likely 2nd degree burn (I'm not exaggerating) from the day before and all the burnt skin has been ripped off my arm.

Monday morning, 8am:  I wake up unable to move because my back is spasming so bad.  I work from home.  I ice my knee.  I take muscle relaxers.  They are awesome.

Monday afternoon, 3:30pm:  I watch "Raiders of the Lost Ark".  I silently thank whoever made the "creative" decision to have Harrison Ford's shirt unbuttoned for 80% of the movie.

Present day:  You are wondering why I included the bit about the wine spilling since it had nothing to do with me falling or my injuries.  It's just that I am still mad about it.

Seriously, though, how fucking expensive is gas right now.  I'll punch someone.  Once I can move.  And my epidermis is intact.