Michael Grimm won America’s Got Talent.

I’m not saying the guy isn’t adorable, cause he is.

But Prince Poppycock RULES!

He’s is a true performer.

Can you imagine if he did a duet with Cher?

Do it, Do it!!!!

I’m wearing heels today. 

Because I’m an addict.

Mary brought them for me because they are to big for her.

They are fab-u-lous.

Today isn’t sucking so much anymore!

A knight in shining armor came to my rescue this morning!

When I pulled out of my driveway this morning (at the butt crack of dawn) I noticed that an alert light was active on my dashboard.  I didn’t recognize the symbol so I continued on with my commute.  As I hit red lights along the way I began the process of getting out my car manual to look up the issue.

Red light 1: Opened glove compartment and searched for manual. (Tangent: I feel that it is time to rename the glove compartment.  Does anyone actually put gloves in it?  In the winter months those baby’s stay on your hands, don’t they?  Perhaps construction workers store their gloves there…)

Red light 2: Continue to search for manual, remember it’s in the neat little leather binder the car dealership gave me and yank out the binder.

Red light 3: Flip to the index and look up “Engine Lights”.

Red light 4: Flip to the appropriate page and begin to read “This light indicates that one of your tires is running low on air pressure.  It should turn back off several seconds after driving.”  My light is still on and I’ve been through 4 red lights…I feel that “several seconds” have passed.

Red light 5: Continue reading “If the light remains on, you have SIGNIFICANT loss in air pressure in one or more of your tires and continuing to drive may become hazardous to your health.”

…that’s not good.  I read this defining statement just one light before I pulled onto the highway where I would have driven 80 miles per hour on SIGNIFICANTLY low pressure tires which could have resulted in an event that was hazardous to my health and rendered my SH a widow and my DSFSC without a mother.

And cue u-turn.

Cue my knight in shining armor.  I limped my way back to the house and SH craftily used his portable air compressor, did magic boy things and Ta-Da!  All fixed! 

All in all, I was about 45 minutes late to work.  But I’m okay with that.  Because I made it ALIVE thanks to my SH rescuing me from SIGNIFACANTLY low pressure tires.

My Dolphins played their first season game yesterday and after not winning ONE preseason game, I am proud to announce that WE WON!!!

We won, we won, we won!

It’s soooo much more exciting to watch a game when your team is playing well, something we Phin Fans haven’t had the opportunity to enjoy for quite a while.

However, I must say, we still kinda sucked.  There were three passes that we intersected that we SHOULD have caught and run with.  But alas, we dropped ALL of them. 

So, my dear Dolphins, no more lobster and crab legs for you the night before the game, it would appear you can’t get the butter off your fingers.


Ree told me yesterday to always profess my undying love to my readers.  And I always do as as Ree tells me too. 

That’s very true and I can prove it.  I bake things with little regard to fat content because Ree said that is the best way to bake.  I wear yoga pants with holes in them because Ree said thats the best outfit for doing laundry.  I take pictures of fireworks because Ree said it was a super cool thing to do.  Therefore:

I love you!


I love those of you that read out of family obligation.

I love those of you that read because you’re my friends.

I love you random stangers.  You’re kinda my favourites.  (Don’t tell the family that though)

I just love all of you.  Please stay with me.  I’d be talking to myself without you.

Ree also said to try to write with proper grammer.  Don’t know if I can follow you there Ree…

I harbor a heated love affair with high heels.  Pretty black ones.  Sparkly ones.  Faux red crocodile skin ones.  They are just simply fabulous!

The problem, however, is that I have defunct hips.  See, when I had the DSFSC my pelvis separated and both my S-I joints (hip joints located on either side of your spine) dislocated.  It wasn’t a good time.  I was the hunched over, wildly pregnant lady that could walk two inches at a time.  And then after the whole birthing a child into the world event, it took me several MONTHS to get back to normal.  There were no heels during this time.  It was a sad time.

I did eventually get better.  First I was able to take three inch steps.  Then I was able to put my pants on while standing up.  Soon I could bend again and walk at a lazy Sunday stroll type pace.  And then…then I could wear my beloved heels again.  It was a happy time.

Until recently.

A recent string of events has begun to tax my hips once more.  So I’ve started taking precautionary measures.  I’m doing my stretches and standing evenly on both feet while standing.  I’m swimming to help keep limber.  And I’m *fine* with all of this.

There is one precautionary measure that I am NOT fine with and sadly it’s the most important.

I’m not allowed to wear my heels.

I’ve been banned from them.

I’ve been disallowed.

Do you know what I have to wear now?  I can barely type this, it’s so awful:


I have to wear flat shoes.


In a self (hip) saving act of resolution, I finally conceded and gave myself over to the notion of flats.  I went shopping all weekend to fine cute flats.  Ha!  Cute and flats in the same sentence.  That’s comedy right there.  Ultimately I did find 4 pairs.  Two are rather decent and two are sufficient.

Yesterday was my first day in my new flats.  It was a difficult day, but I made it.

That’s all one can ask for when wearing flats.

You know your evening has taken a turn for the worse when you find yourself hollaring at your spouse:

Fine!  Go ahead and dress like a tramp!!!

For the record, this did not occur in my household, but it was too good to not pass along!

I know how to save the world.  I do. I’ll share it with you.

Kilwin’s Smores

These little jems are graham cracker goodness with a dollop of homemade marshmallow covered in the most amazing chocolate that has ever graced this good green earth.

When you eat one you are instantly transported to a happy place, your happy place.  My happy place has ponies.  Your happy place could have a puppy, or a kitten…or a bat if that’s your thing.

If everyone on Earth ate one of these smores every single day…then every single person on Earth would be stupidly happy.

You can’t have anger when you’re stupidly happy.  You can’t have war when you’re stupidly happy.  You can’t have intolerance when you’re stupidly happy.

Fine, there may be a downside to this solution; we will probably be as rotund as the Earth people in Wall-E.

It’s ok though, because we won’t care!  We’ll be too busy being stupidly happy.

There.  I’ve just solved all the world’s problems.  Someone tell Obama to read my blog.

I deserve a treat.

DSFSC and Pepe.

The child thinks that he’s managed to catch himself the very elusive Pepe by sneaking up on Pepe during his “nap”.  Look how pleased the kid is…smirkey little grin.  Cheeky child…

We adults know the truth.  A Pepe can only be captured if he wishes to be captured.

Clever Pepe, building the DSFSC’s self confidence.

I think a lot.  It’s one of the reasons I started this blog.  One day I said to myself “Self, if you’re going to make up all these idiotic stories about silly nonsense, why not write them down?”  Then I patted myself on the back for such a splendid idea and promptly forgot all about it.

And there lies the problem.  The problem isn’t that I think (although very little good can ever come from that) it’s *where* I think. 

I think while driving and while trying to fall asleep. 

Neither of those two scenarios’ are ideal for jotting down a thought, idea or short novel.  I’d end up dead while twisted around a light pole or a zombie from lack of sleep.  And while Resident Evil (ha!  Just remembered a post I wanted to write about Resident Evil) really plays up all the benefits and excitement of becoming a zombie, I’ll pass.

So I apologize to all my lovely readers.  There are vast amounts of drivel that will never escape my psyche.  They remain trapped in a never ending cycle of remember/forget/remember/forget…probably never to escape and be shared with you.

Lucky for you this gem of a topic managed to sneak out…how horribly ironic it would have been if I had forgotten to write about my forgetfulness.