This is how we address presents in the Chateau du Boobs.
Besties On Ice
Pretty much a blog about my bestie and me ice skating, or just using ice skating metaphors, or really nothing of the sort.
And then, I received a most curious series of ransom note-esque Christmas carol lyrics in the mail…
I’m pretty sure they’re from Sarah because it’s “our song” (freshman year in college, she started creepily reciting the lyrics of Winter Wonderland to me one night, alternating between a sing-songy voice and a whisper, telling me that “In the meadow, we can build a snow man…” and going on to tell me that said snowman would marry us.)
Any tips or leads are greatly appreciated.
Wifey got me the most perfect Christmas gift. I love it so much, i wasn’t even planning on making coffee this morning until I unwrapped this amazing present.
I’m probably gonna make a good mom someday because I can complete tasks like making PBJ sandwiches and hanging up laundry in a relay race while holding 4 baby dolls at the same time.
My present from the writers: getting to feel like a stripper for a day.
All of my Christmas wishes are coming true.
My dad asked me on the phone last night to explain the rules of "Fuck Marry Kill" (or "F, M, K" as he called it)
a) I think it’s pretty self-explanatory
b) I refuse to have that conversation with my dad (ever again)
HOLY SHIT YOU JERKS. KIDS TOYS HAVE EVOLVED. TO THE POINT WHERE I DONT THINK ITS COOL TO BE AN ADULT ANYMORE.
THIS THING? screams and grunts and screeches and kinda lunges at you if you come near these two little sensors on his nose and on his back. its like one of those dancing flower things meets a dinosaur meets a frill necked lizard meets like liz taylor. i mean COME ON! this is just UNFAIR.
Confession time: we may or may not have one of these in the office. It also has teeth that will chomp down on your fingers. (I know this because I did some toy testing. And by toy testing, I mean taunting/provoking.)
Also, I may or may not have carried it around the office rocking it like a baby and singing lullabyes to it. (If we’re being honest here)
This lady isn't eating (or drinking) bread or sugar until Christmas day*
This is more for me than you, sorry. More of a “this is posted in a public place so I have to stick to it” sort of thing. Posting on tumblr is the new-cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die. (I was going to say signing your name in blood, but we don’t take ourselves that seriously, do we?)
But really, feeling gross and overindulged (ahem, bazillion holiday parties in the past two weeks) before I’ve even gone home for the holidays = time to get serious. And by serious, I mean break up with bread and sugar (this means you too, alcohol) for a short while. And I’ll get my ass back in the gym as soon as I kick this damn cold/flu/cough thing.
Sound good? Okay, awesome. 1,2,3…BREAK.
*exception: a biscuit if we go to Cracker Barrel. ONE biscuit. Okay, maybe two. But that’s IT. (The cinnamon glaze on the apples doesn’t count as sugar, right? RIGHT?)
This is happening right now:
Two of the writers are singing “Friends and Lovers” at the top of their lungs to me. I’m the only other person in the room. Lots of eye contact. Help.
Fifty of the City’s Tastiest Soups, according to New York Magazine.
This is what I’ll be eating for the next two weeks.
I am sicky sick = wish this list was for LA.
(If this list was for LA, Prosecco would def be in the Top 5. Best. Soup. Ever.)
