I took the bus to the mall yesterday (how very High School of me). The bus driver nearly drove right by me. He basically slammed on the breaks when I started jumping up and down and waving my hands like a crazy person. He yelled at me while I was getting on “for waiting so long before [I] indicated that I wanted to get on the bus.”
Funny, I would have thought that sitting on a bench at a bus stop was a pretty decent indicator that I wanted to get on a bus.
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I signed up to run the Somerville Jingle Bell 5k (try to ignore the formatting, it could make your eyes bleed). I apparently qualify for the “Fillies” Division. Which is to women what Clydesdales is to men. Except that Clydesdales somehow sounds noble (must be all that beer marketing) and Fillies just sounds silly and vaguely condescending. Also? I can’t help but feel like the race organizers are calling me a fatty, fatty two-by-four.
I mean, they’re pretty much saying I’m as big as a horse.
If I ever start my own 5k race, the 140+ lbs division will be named “The Pretty, Pretty Ponies.”
Because that’s not condescending or anything.
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We borrowed my Dad’s dog on Sunday so that we could do some leash work with Gracie. While I was putting his leash on (the dog’s, not my Dad’s), he jumped up and head butted me right in the eye socket. Luckily, the slight bruising on Sunday night had already faded my Monday morning. I was not looking forward to explaining how I got a black eye from a canine.
Although it might have been fun to go around saying, “You should have seen the other dog.”
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When you live with someone long enough, they eventually start to learn all of your little secrets. Like the fact that you like to listen to Lilly Allen while you cook dinner. That you snore quietly when you sleep. That long jogs make you gassy. And, just because the bag from Sephora is small, that doesn’t mean that you didn’t just spend an awful lot of money.
I think Kristian’s on to me.
That would not have happened had the dog had a Snuggie. Just sayin’.
You’re so right! His head butt was a cry for help. He was calling out for a snuggie. I should have listened!
Hope, there comes a time when some relationships just have to end. You’re way past the point where it’s time to break up with mass transit.
Fillies are young, sleek, fast, female horses. Less than four years old and never had a kid of their own. It’s still demeaning and not at all cute — sort of like being in one of those good old bars where they make up cutsie names to identify which bathroom is for which gender. Fillies or Colts; Ladyfish or Sharks, etc. Be happy they didn’t run you in the Mares division.
Ouch on the head butt by the dog. The first day that I brought Pyxi home, I leaned down to pet her and she popped up and nailed me in the eye with her nose.
Sephora…. oh Sephora. How do I love thee, let me count the ways as I shell out money. I rationalize that I’m saving money over regular retail by shopping at Sephora. Please don’t burst that bubble Leave me my delusion.
Coca-Cola is sending 3 bloggers around the world to find out what makes people happy.
This blog should be on the list. You crack my shit up.
http://bit.ly/3jevJp