Clareified

I am a saintly doormat compared to this woman!

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So happy for you, Little One. You look amazing!

HELL YEAH! I’d be SO ALL IN with them! Even if they were a lacrosse team or played the rugby…

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…send me photos! I need cheer upping.

Update: Smokey submits this contender:

I dunno… this boy is pretty darn cute, but I still think the first boy wins this.

Apparently, when I try to write posts for money I am an epic failure.

There goes yet another dream down the tube. Now, I’m too depressed to write blog, so you’re going to get this. You can all thank Alceste for his soul crushing “that was the worst thing to appear in print on any of your blogs ever” assessment. And considering that he was also the one to tell me to “enjoy your shallow grave,” that I remember the critique of my writing more tells you something.

Anyway, remember how I told you about my mother and her teleshopping problem? Well, today she came over with her friend to “bring some things.” I can’t even begin…I…just take a gander:

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New hanging silverware. Because she lost one of the forks from the last hanging silverware set she bought me. When I put all the silverware in the dishwater, she yelled at me because “no, you’re not to use those! They’re just in case.”

O_o

Are there silverware emergencies that I don’t yet know about? Are entire civilizations brought to their knees because at a crucial juncture a spoon could not readily be snatched from the silverware rack? Moving on…

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A combination mixer and blender because…um…I dunno.

Next:

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A twenty piece Wolfgang Puck stainless steel pot set which can also be used in the oven up to 450 degrees. You know, for all the cooking and baking I do.

Bringing us to:

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Matching stainless steel big forks and spoons. For stirring. And sticking in things? Or entertaining giants?

And now…here I’m a little concerned that my mother’s “Clarefield” act is a charade and she’s totally been reading my blog, we come to…

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A brand new coffee maker!

I made a cup. It was a bazillion times better than the easy bake oven coffee, but still weak. I may have to accept the reality that it may be the Folgers’ fault. But I like vanilla coffee! *dispatches waaambulance*

But we’re not done yet. For the bathroom, she replaced my Dial handwashing soap with…

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An automatic soap dispenser! So, I thought this was cool…but now I’m not so sure it’s obvious that the soap is in this thing. What do you think? Do I need to put up a sign? Not that anyone visits me here, but still. If they did, I don’t want them not washing their hands.

But I digress…let’s continue with the parade of goodness:

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Bed ruffles? 12 bed ruffles? What? I have two beds. Neither of them will EVER be ruffled.

Um and then there’s…

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An under the bed shoe organizer? Um. I got nothing. And just when I thought I’d seen it all… that there were no more questions I could possibly have…

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My mother beats me yet again.

Well played, Joyce Summers. Well played.

And now this!

And that’s when I discovered that my good friend Pearatty, on whose couch I spent many a weekend during my awful Connecticut clerkship, whose baked goods I have consumed for almost ten years is ACTUALLY CANADIAN! Well, her mom was born in Canada, so she can be a Canadian citizen. Same with Wygant’s dad, his mom was also born in Canada. I don’t know how exactly, but Astin is to blame for this.

I called Pearatty’s sister and she drove down from Flagstaff.

“Have you heard this madness! They are trying to take our Wygant to Canadia! CANADIA! He’s going to talk funny, spell words wrong and think football has three downs!”

She had heard. We set about designing “Operation Wygant Repatriation.”

Step 1: Teach Wygant to bite mommy.

Huh.

Well…

Football was so boring this weekend. I could not have cared any less about all 14 games AND I totally forgot the Eagles played on Thursday night. Sorry waitress who asked me yesterday what the score was and I said “they don’t play till tonight.” But in my defense, who cares about the Eagles?

Tonight, is the first playoff game of the season! Well, okay, maybe last night’s Steelers game was also a playoff game. But I reiterate my defense, but this time insert “Steelers.”

The Patriots vs. The Jets! Monday night! My stomach is all a twitter! But truth be told, the Patriots are in control of their own fate now. The ball is literally in our court. Tom Brady is at the helm, Belichick in his ear on a snowy New England night in Foxboro. I could ask for more, but that’d just make me a greedy ass mofo.

I spent the weekend with the cutest baby in Christendom:

We talked about the upcoming Monday night matchup, and he assures me I have nothing to worry about. (Yes, he’s a HE, despite his mama dressing him in girl pajamas in this video. Sheesh.)