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I’m so awesome I don’t even need a title

I think comments I leave on other people’s blogs are WAY better than anything I write on my own blog.

Seriously. I should start a blog that purely publishes comments I’ve left on others’ blogs. Or would that be narcissistic? I think it would. And of course I kid, I’d never do that. Well, unless someone paid me to do it. Then I’d totally do it.

ANYHOO. I’m sure some of you are probably thinking, “But Valerie, you comment on my blog, and your comments are yawn-inducing. In fact, I’d probably delete your boring ass comments but I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, or something.” But I like them. I think they’re funny. They make me giggle to myself. And isn’t that all that matters? What I think?

I guess it’s due to the fact that I have a nearly non-existent attention span, and that I’m only comically effective in short bursts? Lately I barely have the motivation to write a meaningful (ha!) or interesting post, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’m sure some of you were thinking last week, “A bullet post, Valerie? Seriously? Cop out!”

Lately I feel that the puppehs (the pictures! they’re coming! I promise!) and the Keith/Carrie concert (which was KICK. ASS. by the way) are the most interesting things I’ve got going for me right now, and they’re not even about me.

Patience, my dears. It’s a virtue. One in which I, unfortunately, do not possess. I do have things going on in my life. BIG things. I’m just not comfortable writing about them right now. Maybe one day, but not now. I don’t want my blog to become some place where I just come to dump all my melodramatic angst (although I don’t mind if you do it, of course, but remember it’s all about ME). I’d prefer my blog to be a happy place. Because there’s nothing like having a craptastic day in which the shit just HITS. THE. FAN. and nothing could possibly cheer you up, and then coming across a blog post that just makes you smile. And forget that you want to throttle that bitch in Accounting because really, WHERE DOES SHE COME OFF?

I guess my point is this: I’m trying not to take myself too seriously. Because when I do? That’s when I am NOT pleasant to be around. If I’m not happy, I sure as hell don’t know how to make you happy. And one of the most pleasurable things you can ever experience is to make someone else happy. And yes, I realize I just wrote a post with all sorts of italicized I’s and Me’s and point blank stated, “it’s all about ME,” but that was sarcasm. In case you didn’t catch that.

And when I get home, I am SO putting the new Flight of the Conchords album on my iPod. And I urge you to do the same. If that’s doesn’t put you in a good mood, you have no soul.

Everybody loves a bullet point post (at least those of us with ADD do, anyway)

• NCW bought me a going-away present when I left my last job (in, um, FEBRUARY), and it STILL has not arrived. What kind of gift takes more than TWO MONTHS to get here already? A friend of mine (a man, of course) suggested that maybe he somehow impregnated me and that I will be receiving my present in seven months. I shudder to think.
• Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful that I haven’t received my gift yet. I’m very grateful. I mean, he didn’t have to get me ANYTHING, and gift-giving is not something NCW frequently does, as he is a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m just wondering, what the HELL could it be? Thoughts, anyone?
• I just force-fed myself the other half of my English muffin from breakfast because I didn’t want to be wasteful, even though I am wearing a very unforgiving shirt that shows off the very slightest indulgence. And it was soggy. Sigh.
• A word to the wise: Don’t choose a day in which you will be doing much walking to “break in” your cheap JCPenney heels. My feet are TORE UP. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to wear flip flops to work, but damn it, I’m wearing ‘em.
• Lack of sex is making it VERY hard for me not to hit on the hot bartender who winks at me.
• I needed coffee so badly this morning that I smelled the milk, deemed it rancid, and poured it in my mug anyway. Two packets of Splenda have saved my life.
• White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane is quite possibly the best song EVER.
• The puppies opened their eyes on their 2 week birthday! OMG they are the cutest things ever. I keep promising pictures but I’m having a hard time capturing their cuteness with my crappy camera. I don’t want to do them an injustice by posting sub-par pictures. Be patient, my friends!
• Another thing about the pups that was super cute: The Saturday before last, I was woken up by Layla scratching very quietly on the side of my bed, desperately wanting some cuddle time with her mama. I pulled her up on the bed (she’s too small to get up there herself, and my bed is TALL), and I looked down to see all three pups snuggled together in a row, with Layla’s skunk toy (when she had her false pregnancy last year, that was the “baby” she carried around, and now she keeps it in the bed with her pups) placed delicately on top. The skunk was the pups’ babysitter, y’all!
• Am I forgetting anything? No, I don’t think so . . . oh wait, yeah:
• I AM GOING TO SEE KEITH URBAN TONIGHT! YEAH BABY! I’ll post pictures, if any of them turn out OK. I know a certain few of my freaders who are going to be extremely jealous of me tonight
• Happy Friday everyone! I am up out of this piece in T-Minus 97 minutes.
• UPDATED TO ADD: Is Michael C the only one who noticed the pun in the title of my last post? I’m sure the fact that no one mentioned it is because it was cheesy/unfunny. And no, that is not a desperate attempt to push my readers reader into telling me I’m funny. I totally know that already.

Urine trouble!

OK, so . . . this week is shaping up to be much lovelier than the past few weeks, which were filled with tears, doubts, and guilt. I’m not going to go into it, but that’s only because I don’t want to have to password protect this post. Because this post is not about that. Remember, I said I am going to talk about HAPPY! things.

So, this past weekend, my friend had an engagement party. She and her boyfriend have been together oh, I don’t know, seven years or so, having broken up, gotten back together, been engaged, broken up, and gotten back together, along with a stint in rehab thrown in there for good measure (hers, not his), and now they are living together again in Savannah. I’m going to be in the wedding, which my friend keeps telling me to mark on my calendar. Um, honey? I CAN’T mark it on my calendar yet seeing as I don’t HAVE a 2009 calendar! The wedding is going to be in OCTOBER 2009. Um, WTF? Seriously. But we are having J. Crew dresses, and I am tres excited about that.

So, there were LOTS of people there, and shenanigans ensued. At one particular point in the night while peeing in their outdoor bathroom (it was almost like a building with a public bathroom . . . it had a waiting area with a sink and two stalls with doors), a friend burst in on me while I was pulling up my panties, much to my surprise. “Damn girl, do you like my underwear?” I said, jokingly, to acknowledge how crazy it was for her to burst in on me like that. A random girl in the waiting area (WHOM I DO NOT KNOW) said, “They’re really cute!” 

Um, thanks?

However, this is not the only story of the night that involves a peeing/bathroom situation.

Toward the end of the night, our entourage (made up of me, K, Anne, Stacy, and Stacy’s husband) made our way to a friend’s house down the road from the party, which was in the ‘docks. We would have gone home but helloooooooo free alcohol. Hell to the no we are not driving home.

Stacy and I ended up being the last ones to go to bed, so we ended up sharing a bed. I always pee before turning in, and although it was late, this night was no exception. Stacy, however, did not follow suit.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Stacy and I woke up to the sound of voices and, before I could even stretch my legs, Stacy says, “I peed on myself, Valerie! It hurt so bad I couldn’t make it to the bathroom!”

I HAD BEEN SLEEPING ALL NIGHT NEXT TO A HALF NAKED STACY WHO HAD PEED ALL OVER HERSELF.

Amid my confusion and horror, Stacy rolled her ass out of bed (naked from the waist down, mind you. She goes commando) and began to put her jeans back on. THE JEANS SHE HAD PEED IN. Her face was priceless. She was making this whining noise while saying “Ewwwww Valerie Ewwwwwwww Uhhhhhhhhh this is so nassttyyyyyyyyyy!” I could do nothing but laugh my ass off. She had to wrap a blanket around herself while she put her jeans in the dryer.

I’m not feeling very creative today, so this post does not accurately portray this event, but let me tell you. It was quite hilarious. I don’t know if I’m ever going to let her forget that she peed herself in another person’s bed because she couldn’t make it to the bathroom.

Hi, atus

I could write an entertaining post, one that would have you giggling quietly to yourself at your desk (I know you’re reading this at work! Don’t lie!). I could write about how FREAKING GREAT life is, and how happy I am.

But I’m not.

So until I find something happy! and fun! to write about, I’m not going to write. I’m going to spare you the “woe is me” crap because no one wants to read that, myself included.

I don’t know how long it’ll last. Hopefully not long, because if I start writing again that will mean I am HAPPY!

And yes, I will drop in to post more pics of the pups. They’re much more interesting than I am right now. Trust.