Cuter than a Penny

Are you my mommy?

Oh heavens, that is the most adorable embryonic short-tailed opossum my eyes have ever seen.  I want to lick it clean while cooing.   

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/11/101129203346.htm#

I did not exactly "read" the article.  Who has the time?  Sum it up for me, would you?

And before you leave comments asking: Yes, of course I saved that picture as Marsoup. 

UPDATE:  As in Marsoupial.  Get it?  And yes, little one is asking the penny if it is his mother.

UPDATE 2:  I'm assuming it's a boy because if it was a girl it would have a bow glued to her head.  Like this:

Bow Glued Head of Baby Heidi

See?  Glued. 

War! Sex! Yogurt!

Work is so busy right now it takes me over an hour to eat my yogurt.  My honey flavored GREEK yogurt because I want 2 times the protein of the leading yogurt. 

It would be hard enough if I was working with something I was able to read but alas, I am illiterate.  At least I’m illiterate when it comes to Hebrew.

Raisins: Good Snack, Smells Like Tobacco

I really need that cute break that comes at noon when I walk around and jerk on some beef.  Translation:  Eat beef jerky. 

Oh Rats!

Pets are great to write about.  People can identify with the love that is shared between a pet and the pet’s human.  The grief that comes with burying a pet is also an emotional memory many can feel alongside the writer.  Wrapping your beloved pet rat, Olivia, in a beautiful silk scarf and then placing her in the dumpster of your apartment is probably not something many people would be able to share with me.  I still remember that day, her little pink tongue sticking out of her mouth and her little curling claws.  Even dead she was cute enough to kiss, though the smell ultimately stopped me from even considering it. 

Eviction

A year ago today, I woke up with horrible back pain.  I tried stretching and cracking it but nothing helped.  Every few minutes something made my stomach feel like it was shrinking into itself.  It hurt so bad I would have to squeeze something as hard as I could.  The pain was so intense I was unable to think or speak or do anything.  But then it would go away. 

I used the ladies room and hmm… this isn’t normal.  Did my water break?

Call nurse line.

Ring ring.

Nurse answers.

Hi, I think my water broke.  Maybe?  What’s it like?  Did my water break?  My contractions are five minutes apart.

You need to go to the hospital.  A doctor will be calling you shortly.

No, I don’t think I need to go to the hospital yet.  Thank you.

I jiggle Sam the rat around a little bit.  He sits on my belly, whisker twitching and sweater chewin.  Don’t chew my sweater, SamFace!

Sam in Flight

Ring ring.

It’s the doc! 

Did my water break?

I don’t know, go to the hospital. 

Hmmm… I don’t know if I have to.  I’ll wait and see.

Go to the hospital.

Ok, I just need to… do some things.

Text big (huge) sister.  

I cook breakfast, a big breakfast because once you’re admitted you get no food.  Women cannot have any food in their body if a cesarean becomes necessary.

Round

Now I need to put my face on.  Must look pretty for my big day.

F-ing Hackers

I have only had my blog for a couple days and hacked, it is. 

If I was not so busy gazing at my new bedazzled finger, I would be angry.  

I'm a serious blogger with a lot of depth and wit. Poop.

Poop has nothing to do with my depth and wit! 

Maybe a little.

But not enough to mention.  

Especially publicly!  

Man oh man.  

I must be off now, I need to put together my son's birthday music mix.  

Partridge Family, Elvis, Beastie Boys, all his favorites.  

Best one-year-old ever!  

The best year of my life. 

So far.  

Ha-Wink!

Food Drive

Eating a can of soup for lunch usually wouldn’t be such a big problem for me, or potential problem, as it is today.  It’s not the sodium I’m worried about, and you shouldn’t be worried either.  I always pick out the low sodium.  I know any amount of weight gain would have unfavorable effects on my social standing.  I have made an effort to teach my infant son, Harry, this valuable lesson, but the flashcards do not seem to be getting through to him. 

The problem is the food drive I put together.  It ended today, and after coming back from the food shelf to drop off everyone’s very thoughtful donations, I then opened a can of soup to eat myself.  What’s to stop anyone from assuming I did not take a few, or all, of the food donations to my house?  It’s more likely I would have brought only about half of the food to my house and left a few cans in my desk at work.  I also noticed there were granola bars, so I probably would have kept a couple in my purse and glove compartment of my car.

Making this even more problematic is the fact I “forcefully” insisted upon my bringing the donations to STEP, the food shelf in St. Louis Park, on my own.  I use quotations around forcefully because I would not go so far as to say I demanded I do it alone in a threatening manner, but that’s how the event was documented by my employer’s Human Resources Department. 

Sad Cafe

After I posted my first blog yesterday, I immediately sunk into a deep depression.  I had to lie on the floor for twenty minutes, pitying myself.  I knew what my next blog, the one I’ll write tomorrow which is the one I’m writing today, as in this blog right here, would say.  It went and goes something like this:

I don’t have any followers.  It’s because I’m not funny and no one likes me.  At least, that’s what my fiancé Jon told me.  He didn’t tell me straight out, but I could tell by the way he slept last night he believes that just reading my blog gave him a brain tumor because he probably believes boredom breeds tumors. 

But then as soon as I completed that paragraph he said look at your blog, and it turned out I already  had a follower.  

Why is he trying to destroy me?  

Why is the man, who supposedly loves me, trying to expose me as a liar to all my loyal blog followers.  Never has "Sad Cafe" written and performed by the Eagles, ever felt so true. 

For a peep into my soul, click the link below.  Don’t worry if you have not yet memorized the lyrics, arizona3433 was nice enough to add them to the video. 

http://espanol.video.yahoo.com/watch/8277941/22058470

Born with It

Part of the reason I’m writing this blog is because I enjoy connecting with others.  I don’t mean to mow my own lawn, but I have fairly acute people skills. 

I had an interview with a company who specializes in reverse engineering, and I intuitively knew I should not ask if they had the capability to reverse engineer a body part, specifically a widdo bagina.  I say widdo bagina because I also knew this was not the kind of interview where I could come right out and say “little vagina”. 

Attention, Please.

I would be flattered to have my security photo leaked by TSA.  Especially if it was what I would consider a bad photo.  I’d say, “Oh my, and I don’t even look that good there!” (you’d say to yourself, dear god what does she look like usually!?) but then my smiling face would turn serious and I would say, quietly, “I am outraged.”  For the money!  The money I would get from my lawsuit.  So flawless I’m practically getting goosebumps.

Sadly, I was born with a strange birth defect in the majority of my hair follicles making my skin incapable of producing goosebumps.  To me, goosebumps, or goosepimples as gross people say, are obscure and almost surreal. 

I feel so blessed to have obtained this URL, I was certain it would already have been taken.  Though I’ve always considered myself religious, though not spiritual, it’s moments like these, sitting here on my brand new blog,  http://itsmyblogmyblobmyblogittyblogblooooog.blogspot.com/ , I’m reminded why.  As in why I’m religious.  That was a confusing sentence.  Wow, embarrassing.  This whole blog thing makes me feel so exposed.  Also I’m not wearing a shirt.