This wouldn't be so funny if it weren't the third time this has happened.

I set out this weekend to buy a basic pair of black pumps for work. Plain black, closed toe with a sensible heel.

This is what I came home with:

Because who needs sensible black shoes when you can have these?

Also one time I accidentally ate a whole package of bacon.

During a discussion about food last night, dear Robin made the most audacious claim!

"Well," he says, "people shouldn't be eating pork anyway because it's really bad for you."


!!!!


And so I kicked him right in the teeth.


Okay, I didn't*. But really would anyone have blamed me?

I mean, good grief.

---

*That might have had something to do with him being all the way over there on the other couch and my toes being so nice and toasty due to me slowly inching them under dear Keith's derriere**.

**Keith, thank you for having a warm tushie to offer such coziness to a silly girl who wears flippity-flops during a rainstorm. You're the best!

Scenes from last night

Liz walks past Kim's open bedroom door.

Liz: "How's the game?"

Kim: "Thereare25secondslefttoplaytheJazzareupbythreeit's Denver'sballandtheyjustcalledatimeout."

Liz: "Oh."

(pause)

Liz: "So . . . why are you standing on your bed?"

Kim: "Uh, it got really intense there for a minute."

Liz: "Hmmm."

In which I save the day.

One of my co-workers is, there's no other word for it, a babe. She is smokin' hot. It's the profusion of platinum blond hair, the legs for days (seriously, how long are people's legs these days?), the gleaming smile and the perkiness, dear heavens, the perkiness. She's basically hot. And she walks around like she doesn't realize that her very existence is what makes the self-esteem of short, podgy brunettes deflate faster than Popeye pancakes on a cold morning. (Because we really need more help with that.)

One day my office phone rang. It was SHB (smoking hot babe, obviously). She sounded panicked and asked if I could come unlock the door for her. She was trapped inside a classroom and needed to be rescued. I was confused as none of our classrooms have automatic locks and, even if the door was locked, shouldn't you be able to open it from the inside?

I asked a few clarifying questions and soon discovered the problem.



She was pushing.




She needed to be pulling.



So sure, she's stunningly gorgeous and has a rack you could bounce quarters off. But me? Well, I can open a flippin' door by myself.

 She's not much to look at but man can she open doors!

In which I reveal how I talk like a five-year-old when I don't get my way.

My stupid phone broke again.

Fine. In its defense, I put phones through what can charitably be described as "cruel" and "unusual." I'm clumsy. I drop everything. I never think twice about throwing my keys and phone in the bottomless pit of my purse/vortex. I let children play with my stuff. I abhor germies and subject my poor phone to a thorough disinfecting process regularly. I'm basically a phone's worst nightmare. So this little soldier has valiantly fought the good fight.

But it still broke which means it's stupid. And it broke on that day which shall go down in history as "That One Time That a Bunch of Stuff Went Wrong and Then Kim Had Like a Total Meltdown Right There in The Cheesecake Factory Bathroom" which, let me tell you, was THE WRONG FREAKIN' DAY TO BREAK, OKAY? DO YOU HEAR ME? THAT WAS NOT COOL!

But this has happened before.The stupid phone broke and I took it back to the phone place and they gave me a brand spankin' new one. For free. Cha!

So I took the stupid broken phone to Verizon and said, "Hey, guys. 'Member how this phone is broken? Yeah? Can I haz a new one?"

And the Verizon guy (who, by the way, did not have a neck) was all, "Blah, blah, you've had this phone since 2007 (grimace) and blah, blah, warranty blah, blah. Basically, no, you can't have a new phone for free because VERIZON HATES HAPPINESS AND PUPPIES AND ALSO RAINBOWS."

And then I looked at the guy and then down at my phone and then back at the guy and then I sighed all dejectedly and whispered, "Well, that makes me very sad, sir."

And after informing him no thank you I do not want to buy a new phone and I will be just fine without a new phone and besides I just really like my old phone and you are not being a very nice friend right now I walked back to my car, went home and ordered a new phone.

Let's hope this one's up to the challenge.

Am practically the nicest person ever.

Me (scrolling through a friend's pictures on Facebook): Wow. She looks like she's in pain here . . . . . oh, wait, I guess that's just how her face is.

I have just met you and I love you.

So I seem to have a problem making new friends. Well, not so much making new friends. More like I have issues making new friends without them thinking I'm completely mentally imbalanced. I get a little, um, eager. I can go from 'rational human' to 'puppy who needs loving home' in the time it takes most people to say, "Nice to meet you."

I'm like: "Hi! Wow! Look at that! You're wearing green! I LOVE green! Hey, I like you. Let's be friends! Come! Come with me! Come with me to my house! Oh, look at this stuff. All this stuff I have. Oh, ho! Look at this picture. Ha! Look at this picture from high school! Ha ha! Look, look at my hair! Ha! Oh, hey, I made you this craft-project. Yes, it is for you! It is for you because I like you. What? What's that you say? You like food? I CAN MAKE FOOD! I CAN MAKE YOU ENCHILADAS! Yes, I can make them because I like you and we are friends forever and ever."






I think it's a little off-putting.