Lindsey yesterday, saying that the “You’re shitting me, right?” look on her cat’s face was my favorite of all the cat pictures she sent (good way to get on my good side, folks. Send me cute ‘n funny pictures of your cats. I’m not even close to kidding. I love the kitties!), and I said “Someone needs to create a blog named You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!” That phrase always makes me laugh, because Fred had never heard it before I moved in with him (he heard it plenty AFTERward though, believe you me). The summer I was supposed to drive to Harrisburg, PA to hand the spud over to my sister (who would then take the spud back to Maine with her), I was almost there when my cell phone rang and I found out that my sister’s car had broken down right outside of New Yawk City. I called Fred and asked him to call my father while I found a place to stop, and when I found a place to stop, I called him back.
“I know where you got ‘You gotta be shittin’ me’ from!” he said, that apparently being what my father said when Fred told him what was going on. Heh.
They say it on The Shield all the time though, so apparently my father didn’t coin the phrase.
Anyway, I think someone out there should start up a blog named “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me” and then post links to things that make them aghast and horrified. Actually, I told Fred that someone should start up a slam book-type blog called “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me” and then post rude things about other people. He said “That wouldn’t be very nice!” Heh. Nooooooo it wouldn’t.
Mo made clam chowder and didn’t make any for me? You’ve GOTTA be shittin’ me!
(Yeah, okay, that was lame. Bite me.)
It’d be all fun and games ’til someone posted something like “Robyn thinks she looks good in that shirt? YOU’VE GOTTA BE SHITTIN’ ME! Have you seen the size of her ass?”, and then the fun would be OVAH.
* * *
Did someone from Oswego, NY send me something? I got an envelope from the post office today letting me know that a big brown envelope addressed to me, from Oswego, NY had been found, empty. There’s a return address but no name, and there are very few of you who have my actual home address, so I can’t think of what it might be. I suppose as a last resort, I could send a letter to the address and ask, huh?
* * *
I thought briefly that the DVR had fixed itself yesterday. We turned it on, and the guide was present and accounted for. I set it to tape
The Newlyweds on Wednesday night (shaddup), and then went to scroll down the list to see if there was anything interesting on later that night, and it froze up, flashed “Fail” on the box, and then rebooted itself. This happened twice, leading me to the decision to leave it the fuck alone, and then it spontaneously rebooted itself for no apparent reason.
Damn you, DVR! I WANT to love you, but you’re toying with my emotions!
* * *
There’s some excitement with my parents. My father may have the chance to go to Hawaii for three months for work. When he told my mother, she told him she’d quit her job and go with him. She’s been a bit unhappy with her job lately and is probably looking for a reason to quit. I don’t think my father was expecting my mother to say she’d quit and go with him (“And you can come visit us there this summer!” my mother said to me); I’m sure he thought she’d visit for a few weeks, but would mostly stay home to hold down the fort. I got the distinct feeling that he’s kind of hoping the whole Hawaii thing doesn’t happen. We won’t know one way or the other for a little while, I guess, and if he does go, it’ll be starting the end of April.
It would be cool to fly to Hawaii and visit for a week or so, but even if it doesn’t happen, I’ve made Fred promise me that we could go to Hawaii for our 10th anniversary. That gives us 4 1/2 years to save up for a kick-ass vacation. Now it’s just a matter of holding him to it…
* * *
Pet store kitties are
here.
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I have no And3rson kitty pictures for you today, but here! Look at this picture of Popham Beach and think about the fact that summer is FOREVER away. Grrr.
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