A Recap

I had a great Christmas, thanks for asking, but I don't have a single picture to prove it. So just take my word on it. It was grand. And consider yourself fortunate for not having to sift through hundreds of pictures of me and my fat rolls. My fat rolls also appreciate the discretion.

Although to say that I had a fabulous Christmas and to not say what was so fabulous about it seems ungrateful and dishonest. So here are some of the highlights of Christmas 2008 for Courtney.

• Playing hours of Monopoly with Meg and Ty -While staying at Meg's house, the four of us (the fourth person being Josh), would settle every night with a rousing game of Monopoly. It was ridiculously fun and it seems weird to go to bed without first going bankrupt. I lost every time. It was also amusing to hear Ty and Josh analyze the similarities between Monopoly and everyday life. Like we could ever afford Park Place in real life!
• Half-sleeping through Josh and his fam battling MarioKart on the Wii - While staying at the Robbins, we would spend hours opening up new courses (I include myself in this, but really I was usually half-sleeping on the couch) in MarioKart on the beloved Wii. It was fun and it was even better because Josh would go to bed so exhausted, he would temporarily forget his love affair with his iphone, and would forgo his nightly game of Sudoku. It was amazing going to bed without the faint glow of the iphone glimmering in my face. I'll never forget it.
• Going to Tucanos, and then barfing it all back up - That pretty much wraps it up. It was fun going there to eat, not so much the throwing it back up (although, it did point out to me that I don't chew my food up enough. Seriously. There were whole bits of meat just floating there in the toilet. I think I should chew more). Josh and Ty did some damage to the 'All you can eat' rule. I think the manager was going to ask us to leave. That or take their picture for the most meat consumed in a single sitting.
• Waking up every morning at the Robbins house, and having breakfast already made - Barb (Josh's mom) doesn't let old habits die, and whenever Josh is in the house, she will make him breakfast. I, in turn, benefit greatly, since I hate preparing anything at all (toast is a struggle), and there was always some delicious delight all ready for me to not chew. Delicious.
  
• Just spending all day with someone a lot like me - My sister Meg and I are pretty different, but we're also pretty similar in many regards. I'm pretty sure if I weren't me, I would be my own friend (it makes sense...), and so palling around with Meg is just like being with myself. We like to sit and talk about how cool we are, and a lot of people don't seem to enjoy that (odd, right?). So we really love spending time together so we can talk about how awesome we are. We rule.
• Just seeing friends and some family - It's always nice to be somewhere familiar and with people who know and love you. It was nice to see both families (we didn't really see a lot of my family, but my family is weird like that) and to spend even a few minutes with friends. I miss them all.
  

4 for me and 0 for anyone else

My friend just brought over 4 bread sticks. I looked them over, and immediately decided to eat one, but leave myself the option of eating two. I ate the one, and then had the second down my throat before the first one was completely chewed. I didn't feel too guilty since I had already pre-determinedly the likelihood of me eating only one was next to zero. I looked at the third, and ate that one too. Never mind there being 4, 2 for me and 2 for Josh, he technically doesn't even know the bread sticks ever existed. Now there's one minuscule bread stick sitting on a lonely plate, staring at me, willing me to eat him. He's scared now that's he's alone and asks only that I take him where I've taken the others. I can hardly refuse a scared bread stick his last wish, and so I offer him the safety of my fat rolls. Enjoy the ride, little buddy. But I might as well save you the trip and just tape you to my thigh.

No Christmas card this year...

Josh has been asking me if we're going to do a Christmas card this year. I looked at him, and asked, "Why?" We don't have kids, we don't have pets, we don't own any living thing to acknowledge (minus my poinsettia, although it seems to be dying ever since I broke branches off and tried to tape them back on, so that will be cut off the list soon. Poor Pickles the Poinsettia...). I guess I could tell people what we did this year, though. We moved to California. There. Christmas card done! Plus, I wouldn't send a picture card since it would just be me and Josh and maybe Pickles, depending on how much longer he can withstand my black thumb, and that would just be dumb. I hate when couples do Christmas cards. They already did an engagement announcement, we don't want to see more pictures of them gazing at each other, smooching, or doing any other 'casual' poses while frolicking in wheat fields, snuggling up in a snow bank, or crouching with arms wrapped around each other over a train track. I hate couple Christmas cards. Maybe that has something to do with me hating most things. Can't be sure. All I know is that I won't be doing any Christmas cards until my first kid is graduating from something worthwhile. Like preschool. But if you are one of those couples, send me a card. I like hanging them on my fridge and making fun of them. See how cool I am?

one good, one bad, and one awful

Three things have happened to me this week. One good, one bad, and one being the worst possible thing to have ever happened to a living organism. Uh hum.

The good thing that has happened is that moths have finally come to the same conclusion I have. They are disgusting little smut bugs and they should all die. I walked into the bathroom and what did I see? A nasty little dead moth peeking at me! (Spring had brought me such a nice surprise, blossoms popping right before my eyes...) Man. If you could have heard the cheers! I was elated to discover that no one had actually put the vile thing in there, he just recognized his own wickedness and plunged into his watery grave. Excellent. I cannot truly describe how happy I was to find his limp form, floating on the toilet water, but I assure you it rivals only to how I feel about puppies. Pure ecstasy.

The bad thing that happened this week was when I was making an omelet and Josh asked me to make him one too. I cringed, but bit the bullet. I made a delicious ham and spinach omelet, with cheese and onions and salt and pepper and deliciousness, all scrambled together in some deliciously clever manner. Well, Josh takes one bite and says, "This is disgusting. You know I hate wilted lettuce!" First off, it's spinach and it isn't wilted, it's cooked. Second off, you can go *$%# 0$@%** in the &!!@ for all *&#$! Nobody asked you to eat my wilted lettuce omelet! I was mad and will continue to be mad for eternity.

The worst possible thing to happen actually took place last week. As I mentioned before, I went to another family's Thanksgiving. Everything went fine until we were rounding up to go (hours before the other people; yes, I'm a true Asay). I had made green bean casserole and was going to pick up my leftovers and dish, when I realized I was missing one. Not the dish, but the casserole itself! Now, I did in fact look for my leftovers, and actually found them all tucked away in someone else's tubberware in the fridge. I sat there, staring at my leftovers in their fridge, debating whether to just take them or to actually make some kind of scene, with lots of hand gestures and lots of shrieking and lots of blaming on whoever put weird fruit things in the stuffing... I decided to avoid the stuffing fight in the kitchen (seriously though. Who puts dried fruit junk in stuffing? That's just wrong.), and was ready to just take the food and run when one of the sisters asked me to help her with something. Uh huh. Likely story. She saw what was going to happen and nipped it in the bud. She wanted my green bean casserole! Ah! Dammit.

This wouldn't be such a tragedy if I didn't honestly hate cooking so much. I really hate it. There is nothing I like less than cooking (except moths, of course. But they seem to be less disgusting ever since they started killing themselves. I like dead ones way better than live ones...). So when I took the 30 minutes to prepare and cook the casserole, I was hoping for leftovers so that I could avoid making anything for the next 8 days (I only cook once every 8 days. Josh knows the rules. That's why he ate his wilted lettuce omelet anyways. He knew it was that or cereal).

Ahh! Josh just told me that he found the moth dead on the window sill and threw it in the toilet. I hate this week.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving! I love a holiday that supports gluttony and overeating! But it is definitely a time to reflect and consider all the things that you're thankful for. Currently, I'm in a foul mood and so my list is superficial and short. In fact, only pumpkin pie comes to mind, but I'm sure once I calm down, other things will come to mind.

I guess I can also add that I'm thankful for people who are willing to take in the strays during holiday season. We are not going home for Thanksgiving and so our good and kind friends invited us over for the feast. At first I was reluctant to attend a Thanksgiving dinner with someone else's family, being that I usually prefer solitude to large groups of unfamiliar people, but I opted to shy away from my natural tendencies and to join the other people's family. We'll see how it goes. I wonder if their brothers will each eat a dozen rolls by themselves. I wonder if the words, "Dammit Vicky" will be heard at any point throughout the night. And I also wonder if people will be going for dessert 10 minutes after the dinner began. Not because they are too eager to wait and finish their dinner, but because they already finished their dinner. We'll see. It should be fun.

Deal Breakers

Last night I made the horrible mistake of being what some might call, a 'supportive' wife. Josh had yet another indoor/outdoor soccer game, and I went. Can I just say, blah? Blah! I hate doing supportive things, especially when it means doing anything that takes me away from laying on the couch with a bowl of cereal. Really. I highly resent having to go to work, simply because it requires occasional standing and little or no cereal. Huh. I guess I might be sort of lazy. Weird.

But anyway, I was at this game, and there was a fairly attractive guy standing not 10 feet away. Being human and not wasting the opportunity to admire such attractiveness, I cast casual glances at him, thinking of what I would do to improve his look (meaning I would exchange his chunky Vans for something more loafer-like...). As I was admiring and oogling, he bent over to pick up a dropped phone, and *gasp* I witnessed one of my deal breakers. Crack. I saw crack, and I was immediately trying to keep myself from vomiting. As I tried to concentrate on anything other than hairy crack (it probably wasn't really hairy, but what with the imagination I have... well...), I was thinking of other deal breakers for me and guys. The list was surprisingly short.

• Revealing clothing -I find nothing more disgusting than guys wearing shorter shirts or lower pants, and having to see any amount of stomach, back, or butt. I can stand to see underwear, but I'd rather not. Keep it covered!
• Less than comic-worthy humor -I like my guys funny and yes, Josh is funny. He had to be to catch a girl like me (I don't know what that means but it's meant to infer that I'm a great catch).
• Any guy that weighs less than me -it is bound to happen some day when I get pregnant, because Josh isn't exactly a heavyweight, but until then, we'll stay married. The second the scale proves me to outweigh him, well... I hope our marriage is strong enough.
  
• Guys who can't eat -I'm a big eater and I need healthy competetion in this category. This might tie in with a guy weighing less than I do. In high school, I dated a guy who was incredibly conscience of what he ate and stuff. I was seriously turned off when he suggested I not eat the entire plate of french toast and ingest some fruit instead. I might have shot him. Either way, I can't remember and I haven't seen him since IHOP. Sometime might want to check the dumpster.
• A guy who can't fix stuff -Since I'm constantly breaking things, I need someone to follow in my wake with a hammer and a screwdriver. I need a I-can-fix-anything-you-can-manage-to-break-baby! guy. I love those kind of guys. Especially when they call me 'baby.'
  
• Any guy who can't watch America's Funniest Videos, if there even is such a being -Enough said. That show rules. Josh may not go out of his way to watch it, but I can guarantee he watches. We wouldn't be together otherwise.
  

Meeting a baby?

I had an interesting conversation with a frirend the other day. She had just had a baby not too long ago and having not seen the infant for myself, she suggested I come and 'meet her.' I sat there, wondering what it means to 'meet' a baby. Do we shake hands? Do I introduce myself? Do I tell her I like her shoes? I mean, am I meeting the baby, or am I faking admiration for the baby? Because those are two very different things and I have yet to walk up to a baby, stick out my hand, and have any sort of conversation with the baby that didn't involve me raising my voice 6 octaves.

I guess it comes down to the fact that I sort of get annoyed with new mothers. Having not been one myself, I find them rather obnoxious. I think it's because their entire personality changes once they have a kid and rather than being able to talk about anything other than the new child, you are forced to listen to feeding schedules, night routines, and what baby poop really smells like.

I understand that their life has dramatically changed to revolve around that one tiny little person, but it doesn't mean mine has. I think that new mothers should be sent to an island of some sort. Then they can all sit together, and talk about nothing other than their new babies. They can compare nursing experiences, how many blankets they made in order to prepare, and what their favorite brand of diapers is. They can rejoin society once they realize that no one other than themselves think their child is the smartest, cutest, or most talented 6 week old ever, if that ever happens.

I understand that I will undoubtedly become one of the said obnoxious new mothers some day, but until then, I will continue to be irritated with all new mothers. And really, can you be so much in denial to think that a 2 month old is cute? They're still all squished up and weird looking. Trust me. I've seen the pictures. If you disagree, send me a picture of a cute 2 month old that isn't yours.