Monthly Archives: August 2007

stop encouraging the internets

Teh Smitten:  You better learn the words to that ’cause I’m getting you one of those outfits for your birthday.

Me:  [Frozen in horror until I convince myself he’s joking.]

Cat Girls?

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monthaversary

Did I spell that right?  I’ve already had half a bottle of wine (El Espiral – a lovely and slightly effervescent white – vinho verde – from Portugal, only $3.99 at your local Trader Joes) so my speeling is a bit off.  Wait, I mean my spelling is a bit off. 

 Anyways.  yesterday marked three months for Teh Smitten and myself and I am still not tired of that cutie.  Right now he’s over in the bedroom area folding my blanket and humming the well-known stripper theme.  So cute.  Killing me with his cuteness.  If I weren’t so tipsy (and if he weren’t so tipsy) I’d go over there and give him some “what for”.  (Can I get a “what what” from the Midwestern faction?) 

More importantly, Teh Smitten claims he has not tired of me.  Things are kind of tough for him at the mo’, so the fact that it isn’t spilling over into us is rather indicative of a larger and pleasant truth.  (Don’t make me speel it out for you.  I’ve beeb drinling.)

Hm.

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*

Eee… Er… Um…  Yeah.  I’ve got nothing.  Look, I’ve been busy.  A couple weeks back we caught Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind at Woolly Mammoth as a part of the DC Fringe.  I’m sure you read about it in the Post, on DCist, or whatever, as it was fantastic and probably the one show you shouldn’t have missed from the Fringe.  (You missed it, didn’t you?  My inner arty scenester is lording it all over yours.)

Last weekend had a nautical theme that Teh Smitten would probably prefer not to relive.  Evidently it involved 8 foot waves, seasickness and buckets.  Fortunately, I was only a part of the picnicking aspect of the Governors Cup.

Work is a drag.  A veritable soul-sucking crapfest.  It pays well but my sense of humor has r-u-n-n-o-f-t.  (An Oh Brother, Where Art Thou reference, you cretins.  See?  I am no longer fun about this stuff.)

On the bright side, there’s a Cowgirl Creamery on the other side of the block from work.  I have been spending a ton of money there.  The Wensleydale cheese from North Yorkshire is beautiful.  Eating stuff you don’t have to cook on 100 degree days is a blessing.  If only cheese didn’t cause constipation…

Teh Smitten and I are doing very nicely.  Our conversations are peppered with odd statements such as, “you can’t do porn in flats”.  Also, he tends to pick up accents from movies we watch.  This is great when we’re watching something based in the Highlands of Scotland, but not so much with Borat.  (Thankfully, we had the sexytime before watching Borat tonight.  Wait.  Should I have actually written that out loud?  Dang.  Sorry, mi angelito.)

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