Everybody needs a cop-out now and then...

So I suck. Get over it. I'm totally lame, and haven't have *time* (AHEM thank you four spawn of my womb, insane job, flat tires, puking, dirty house, gymastics, cheer, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, House, sleeping, reading, and the Antichrist)....so I'm completely cheating and will just post some of my recent status updates from Facebook. I PROMISE to actually put some time and effort into writing something witty (or completely useless and pathetic) for the blog this weekend.

Here's a recap of my activites as of late:

05/15/09:

Lame-o SD camera cards can suck it. Why do I spend *countless* hours...nay, days (!) to get a decent picture of kids (or the dogs. or a sunset. or the puke ever-so-carefully *placed* across the living room and down the hallway and all over the bathroom. pretty much every place BUT the toilet or trash can) just so I can get to work EARLY (because I'm dedicated that way) just for the card to tell me it won't work?!?!

05/14/09:

Check out the growth on my new hair, yo. And baby, this isn't rogaine...it's *genetic*. Suck on that!

Why is it that right when I start singing in the car, someone has to talk to me? They come right out of the woodwork, and all *I'm* trying to do it sing a little. It's not every day that you get a chance to belt out Rock Lobster, ya know.

05/13/09:

So I got these super-cool contacts in...they flipping *Sparkle* like nobody's biz. I look like a Cullen, so you know I'm a sexy beast. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Although Duke can't see more than 12 inches away from his face, he can still sense when I walk through the door of my office. He immediately starts screaming. Thaaaaaannnnkkkkssss.

05/12/09:

What's on my mind, you ask? You. You are always on my mind....you are always on my mind. I would *rock* American Idol, yo.

05/11/09:

I'm pretty sure there's a ghost in the bedroom with me. I'm hoping after I go to sleep it'll fold the flippin' clothes. *Ahem* GHOST: If you're reading over my shoulder, get lost. I know jiu-jitsu, dude. Or at least I live with a jiu-jitsu teacher. And he will *really* mess yo face up, fa realz yo. Facial scrub.

Nothing like 'Try A Little Tendeness' by Three Dog Night to get you going on a Monday afternoon. Oh, if you could only *hear* my solo!!!

05/08/09:

You know what *really* p.o.'s me? These stupid little silver hairs that I keep having to pluck out. Who has like 5 silver hairs? Am I supposed get my hair dyed for FIVE hairs? And even worse if I pluck 'em, because they're small and I ended up taking out all the hair AROUND them, so there's a bald spot. I look like I got attacked by mockingbird. Flipping mockingbirds. Worthless!