Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I've been saying this word quite often to myself lately. It just seems like random things have been happening and "seriously" is the best response.

1st Use:

I was sitting in one of my classes, zoning away from the lecture. My head plopped on my palm, and my eyes slowly drooped for slumber. Before I could be whisked away into partially-sleeping-but-still-kinda-awake-in-case-my-professor-notices-land I detect thin slivers of paper on the floor. Wait, those papers are curved. Wait, those are not pieces of paper at all...are those...I mean, could those possibly be...

Nail Clippings??!?!

SERIOUSLY? Who in the heck decided that class was a good place to trim up their nails? I mean, really! That is just a wee bit disgusting. This person must have been raised in isolation, because you don't clip your nails in public. You just don't. Keep that hygiene in your house, please. I can only imagine what the other students thought as this guy (I'm assuming it's a guy, because women have far greater class than dudes) whipped out his nail clippers and started snipping away. I think my bluntness would have given him a crusty look and then said something like, "Seriously, dude? Can you keep the clipping to your private life? I'd really not have your shards of nail in my granola bar." Sheesh!

2nd Use:

Priscilla finds herself at WalMart (I know, I know! But I went there to see if their optical center was still open. It's now a Subway). As I'm looking at cheap shampoos, and smelling my way to a headache, an old man walks up to me and asks where we keep the batteries for hearing aids.

SERIOUSLY? How in the world do I stand out from the other brainwashed WalMart shoppers as being an employee? Do you see me wearing the smock? Do I have a nametag asking you in a ominously friendly way if I May Help You? NO! Bob suggested the solution, "But you're wearing a blue shirt." Psh. Yeah. A BABY blue shirt.

So there you have it. Apparantly I look like a WalMart employee. I bought the shampoo. And a Milky Way. Why don't I feel better?

Friday, September 11, 2009

Ginny Chinny

I want a dog. Really bad. I've had a dog in my life at all times since I was two and living without one makes me sad. Very sad. I mainly want a Golden Retriever. Big dogs are my favorite, and when they're furry and energetic it is a match made in heaven. I mean, just look at this and tell me you don't want to cuddle up with it and love it forever:

All together now. Ooohhhhhhh!!!!!
But our landlord won't let us have a dog.
Or a cat.
Or even a bunny!

Allergies. Suck.

Especially when the backyard is HUGE and perfect for a little ball of fluff to frolic and fetch.

But alas, the answer is still no.

I'm having fur withdrawals. I need to pet something! I need to watch something jump around. I need to love an animal other than my husband!


(This actually isn't a real picture of her, but they all kinda look the same. Ginny has a little bite taken out of her right ear probably caused by a sibling argument.)

Miss Ginny is a 3 year old chinchilla. She is super soft and quite the character. Chinchillas are prey animals and take a while to trust new owners. It'll be a while before she lets us hold her. Sad day. But other than that, she is a funny little creature who loves raisins, being pet behind those big ears, and taking dust baths. The only problem with this little critter:

These bad boys.

Ginny is a rodent and her teeth will continue to grow her entire life. Therefore, she gnaws. On everything. We let her out last night while watching a movie (after Ginny-proofing the living room of course) and her path of destruction included: Futurama DVD, my GRE book, the X-Box remote, and our filing cabinet.

Seriously, Gin? The world is not for you to grind your teeth on.

Time to get her some chew toys. And maybe a wheel to run on so she doesn't go crazy when we let her out every night. I was thinking last night how a dog would be so much better than our little destructive chin but then thought of this:

And especially this...

Oh the destruction of a puppy! Even grown dogs get bored and decide that an innocent rug is suddenly an enemy. I'm starting to think that a little nibble taken out of my book is nothing to finding a new puppy has discovered the trash.

So we're happy, and now a family of three. I'm sure we'll have many an adventure with out new Ginny, and I can't wait to share it all with you. And maybe someday I can come home to a snugly, puffy, wonderful dog of my own.