Tsnownami



This is how we get yellow snow! 
In related news: this is the kind of scene that makes me not want to get a dog.



We are all cooped up inside on this snow day ... and we think that's something we're supposed to complain about, but, we're pretty much inside all day, every day anyway.  Hooray for adulthood!  Also: in spite of the tsnownami, our place of employment is the only entity open for business in the entire city, so here we sit, hard at work! 

Today, we have accomplished many things and are looking forward to the rest of the day.  We took a life-threatening leisurely stroll into work, where we arrived late, watched the last half of the Teen Mom 2 episode we cut short last night so we could get to sleep early in the hopes that we would go to the gym this morning, which we did not end up doing.  Then, we did about fifteen minutes of real work, took a long lunch with Derrick, and now we're getting ready to leave early.  All while wearing jeans like the true rebel we are.  We love faux-snow days!

About Teen Mom 2.  Other than Leah, this is the most unsympathetic cast of bitches we've ever seen.  Jenelle says things like, "I would stop smoking pot if I got custody of my son," Kailyn doesn't see anything wrong with dating another guy while she's living under same roof with her ex-boyfriend and his parents, and Chelsea's boyfriend wears shirts that show his nipples.  And this is the nicest way we can write this ... the babies are of inferior cuteness to the kiddos of the original cast.

On another note, this little gem came from Sandy H. via e-mail.  She always likes to keep us posted on the greater Charlotte-area drug-ring activities, and now you know too:

"The Cornelius police busted a pot farm (in a locked room on the 2nd floor) today at a restaurant, 'The Creole House,' on Main St.  The food there was so bad I always wondered how they stayed in business. Now I know.  Love you, Mom."

Seasonal Affection

You may think I seem like the kind of person who revels in the doom and gloom of January, soaking in the cold, gray, bleak days of endless darkness, gazing past the leafless trees and into the sunless sky, thankful that there isn't another three-day weekend for months upon months, and not missing Gossip Girl's winter hiatus even the slightest bit.  But you would be wrong.

I have diagnosed myself with seasonal affective disorder.  It's a real thing; my sister told me!  I haven't felt like myself in a few weeks, and I blame the winter.  Anyone who really knows me won't believe what they're reading - specifically, all former roommates who no longer speak to me after epic battles over me cranking the thermostat to sub-freezing. 

I think I may have found a cure though, other than counting the days until spring (which, believe it or not, doesn't actually help).  I'm talking about the arrival of my favorite piece of porn for nesters: Architectural Digest.  The impending drool and release of psycho-sexual endorphins lead to a magnificent and swift recovery, all in the name of interior design.

All better!