Sunday, March 25, 2012
You will never hear me say the following 12 things.
1. Do you have those Ugg boots in a size 7?
2. No thanks, I don't care to super size my meal.
3. I would never wear a fanny pack.
4. That's off the hook!
5. How much for front row seats to the Dave Matthews concert?
6. I would like to cancel my US Weekly subscription.
7. Is that chicken organic?
8. No, I do not want to pet/hold/play with your puppy.
9. Dear (insert name of hiring manager), I'm excited to hear of an opening for a restaurant manager with your company..........
10. No, I'm sorry I can't make it tonight, I can't tear myself away from this Harry Potter book.
11. Can you turn that gangsta rap up.....a little more.....a little more.....
12. Did anyone catch "Kim and Kourtney Take New York" last night? That show was off the hook!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
|Not even close to his handy work|
I make the bed everyday. Once every 6-8 weeks Brock makes the bed. Upon completion of said made bed, he often stands back to admire his work as if he had just painted the Mona Lisa. His quiet reflection on his handy work is usually met with a clearing of the throat that gradually gets louder the longer it goes unnoticed. Once I realize that he has accomplished a feat known to few, I immediately shower praises upon him with the same ferocity that I would had he just rushed me out of burning building or discovered a cure for cancer or invented the first ever stylish fanny pack. Yesterday he made the bed.........
Me: Hey, thanks for making the bed.
Brock: No big deal, its what a bring to the table.
Me: Making the bed is what you bring to the table?
Brock: Yes, along with other things.
Me: Such as...
Brock: Good conversation.
Brock: Aggressive hugging.
Me: Well, I'm one lucky lady.
Brock: You got that right.
He's been threatening to cook and/or do the dishes, to be safe I'm going to go ahead and submit his application for Sainthood.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Afternoon, March 3rd
We are in our home office, I'm on the computer looking at
TMZ CNN and Brock is laying in the middle of the floor on his back staring at the ceiling.
Brock: What would you do if there was a fire and I was unconscious?
Me: (not looking up from the computer) Drag you out.
Me: (eyeing him up and down) By your feet or pant legs and with a lot of adrenaline.
Brock: I'm going to need you to demonstrate.
Annoyed, I get up and start dragging him out of the office, first by the feet and then to get a better grip by his pant legs. The carpet in the office was tricky but I managed to get him out and I thought I was home free once we hit the hardwood but I had to navigate a step up and I started to lose interest in the fire drill and proving I could save him from a burning building......
Brock: Keep in mind in this scenario I was the one who woke you up to alert you of the fire and by doing so was overcome with smoke and became unconscious.
Me: Well, I think then at this point it would be best if I saved myself so I could get help for you....
Brock: You're kidding, right?
Me: Actually, no......(feeling guilty I continued to try to move his limp body for another 10 minutes)
Brock: (exasperated and in his outdoor voice) HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE FIREMAN LIFT?
Me: (thinking) Oh, yea....that might actually be a better choice than the pant leg pull.
Later that day, Brock decided to go and play Lacrosse and tore his ACL, so in the next 4-6 months if you see me dragging him down Venture Blvd. via the fireman lift or the pant leg pull just go about your business, keep driving, nothing to see, ignore our cries for help, we're fine.