Today is cleaning day. It's always interesting to see just how much filth you've been living in.
We have soap scum; that's a given, and I was prepared for it. I was not prepared for soap scum IN COLORS. I watch TV. I've seen the horror movie-lite commercials starring soap scum as a ravenous world-destroyer and bane of moms everywhere, and I've seen said soap scum depicted in a variety of ways: claymation, animation, very scientific microscope close-ups, but I've never seen it depicted in orange. Most of ours is very orange, though we do have some lovely blacks, greens and clear-ishes as well.
Never fear, dear readers -- I've eradicated the orange plague for now. Everything on our floor is another story, however.
Through some fault of mop, mop liquid or mop-handler, all the dirt, hair and flotsam that was once on our floor is...still on our floor, now stuck there under a shiny, tacky layer of cleaner. It's like the world's worst decoupage project, preserving all the elements of our life that we'd much rather forget.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
This is what happens when I'm left alone with the dog for 5 days
It's refilling its bladder right now, so I have to be quick.
Just have to point out that I LOVE THIS WEB SITE:
"But thelaurenbell!" you may protest, "First of all, man have the Internets missed you! But also, that's just a shitty off-price furniture Web site! There aren't even cool graphics or ridiculous slogans! WHYYYY?"
Well, thanks, dear readers, and, yes, I know. However! A person with the will and the wallet to do so may buy a TIKI HUT on this site. Or more than one, in a variety of shapes and sizes. You could build a whole tiki village, filled with villagers and/or neighboring children paid off with ice pops in which to live out any and all of your tiki fantasies.
This idea tickles me. As does the memory of a particularly stirring episode of the OC, in which Ryan builds a tiki sex hut on the beach for a night of (presumably awkward) passion with Marissa Cooper. God, I love that show.
Speaking of shows, here I have a segue about one: the other reason why I love this Web site is because they are selling a "Michael Scott" line of furniture. I like to think these simple wood-hewn pieces are meant to evoke the Michael Scott character from The Office (see! another show! segueeeeee). This, too, tickles me.
Not having seen most of the latest season of The Office, I can only assume that these products are actually a bizarr-o commercial tie-in to an episode arc wherein Michael leaves the company to become a cabinet-maker. During commercial breaks, when they're telling you to read Dwight's blog and look inside Creed's fridge, they added a bit exhorting viewers to actually buy Michael's $800 tables. Good work, NBC. I am now going to search this site for electric mixers endorsed by Ben Linus from Lost. Because...I dunno, I was looking for other character names, but I really like the evil crazy that is Ben. Whatever.
Friday, May 22, 2009
I stopped caring about real-life, so now I have to care about blog life again
Hey! Remember that time I had a blog? And it was so funny and witty and everyone loved it and read it every day? That was fun!
But then I discovered the sordid pleasures of TV and yoga and eating dinner while sitting -- with people! -- instead of hunched over at my desk (I guess technically still sitting), and the whole enterprise went to HELL. I apologize.
Now, though, I have a dog -- a furry poop machine of my very own -- and I cannot be bothered with "people" or "exercising" or "actually putting on clothes before walking into broad daylight."
Today, which was only day three of the Great Puppy Experiment, I left my apartment at 6:30 in the morning wearing flipflops, my boyfriend's old basketball shorts and a tank top that was not built to withstand the harsh rays of the sun. I actually spoke with another human being looking that, while holding a massive handful of steaming dog poo. No, no, I haven't lost all shame -- it has been ripped from me like the arm of a medieval torture victim (you know, when they do that thing with the horses running in different directions? no?), and I will never get it back.
That's okay, though. If there's one thing I have learned from perusing the World Wide Web, it's that shame can only hold you back. Now that I no longer care about real-life, I can focus all my efforts on the secret, sexy life of Internet superstarletawesomeperson thelaurenbell. You're welcome.
But then I discovered the sordid pleasures of TV and yoga and eating dinner while sitting -- with people! -- instead of hunched over at my desk (I guess technically still sitting), and the whole enterprise went to HELL. I apologize.
Now, though, I have a dog -- a furry poop machine of my very own -- and I cannot be bothered with "people" or "exercising" or "actually putting on clothes before walking into broad daylight."
Today, which was only day three of the Great Puppy Experiment, I left my apartment at 6:30 in the morning wearing flipflops, my boyfriend's old basketball shorts and a tank top that was not built to withstand the harsh rays of the sun. I actually spoke with another human being looking that, while holding a massive handful of steaming dog poo. No, no, I haven't lost all shame -- it has been ripped from me like the arm of a medieval torture victim (you know, when they do that thing with the horses running in different directions? no?), and I will never get it back.
That's okay, though. If there's one thing I have learned from perusing the World Wide Web, it's that shame can only hold you back. Now that I no longer care about real-life, I can focus all my efforts on the secret, sexy life of Internet superstarletawesomeperson thelaurenbell. You're welcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)