• I hurt myself from yawning too big.  I think I overstretched the tendon that connects my jaws or something.  I know.  I’m now in competition with Sammy Sosa for lamest injuries.  I wonder if Workers Comp covers that kind of thing.  It was the boredom brought on by my job that forced me to yawn, after all.
• I dreamed that I had an affair.  With J.  No idea who I was actually married to in the dream.  But J’s conscience got the best of him at the last second and he backed out on me.  So I woke up guilty, bummed, grumpy, and horny.  I hate dreams.
• After 4 years, my dog has just discovered that he has a penis.  He has been licking it for 48 hours straight.  It’s driving us crazy, especially since he sleeps in our room and he’s decided that licking himself is more fun than sleeping.
• Don’t buy hair dye that costs less than $10.  Especially if you use white towels and don’t want to see it bleeding onto your towel 4 days after you’ve colored your hair.  Just saying.
• Also, don’t believe the stuff on the box of cheap hair dye that says it comes with highlights and lowlights and multi-faceted color that doesn’t damage your hair.  Bollocks.
• Tomorrow we close on the house we’re selling.
• Tomorrow we’re supposed to close on the house we’re buying.
• Yesterday we found out that the house didn’t appraise for near what we had agreed to pay for it, so now our financing is messed up.
• The appraiser totally discounted the sunroom, which would have made up the difference in the appraisal price.  He refused to count it as part of the square footage of the house (as a previous appraiser had done) because it didn’t have duct work or something.  But since nobody else in the neighborhood has a sunroom, he couldn’t find “comps” so he just didn’t give it any value at all.
• Because, you know, if nobody else has one then it must have been free to install.
• Apparently if you can’t find one just like it then it’s easier just to pretend it doesn’t exist at all than to do some more research and assign a value based on an educated guess.
• Lazy ass.
• So we’ve asked the relocation company to lower the price on the house because it doesn’t make much sense to pay more than a house is actually worth.
• But it’s a relocation company and it will probably take them a week to get back to us because when you have 150 middlemen, things don’t move too quickly.
• And we don’t know what they’re going to say.
• So we don’t know if or when we’ll be closing.
• Annoying, since we’re supposed to move out of our house in 2 days.
• Regardless, we have to disassemble and pack up our computer tonight or tomorrow, so I’ll probably be offline for a few days.
• Bummer dude.

I think my husband and I need to have sex tonight.

Sometimes he has these dreams in which I’m a total bitch. And my bitchiness quotient correlates precisely with how long it’s been since we’ve had sex.

In his past dreams, I’ve told him he’s a loser, I’ve ignored him, I’ve been hateful, and I’ve made executive decisions that ensure he gets the raw end of the deal.

Last night he dreamed that I told him I was never sleeping with him again because his penis size was inadequate.

Has it really been that long?

I received a complimentary fashion makeover from Amanda Bynes, who gave me the latest in trendy clothing. Apparently trendy clothing is 80’s wear (why does this stuff always come back?), with a homeless take. I was the epitome of fashioin, complete with skinny jeans, loose & baggy layered knit shirts and intentional rips & tears.

I suddenly realize that I have a problem on my hands, because there is no way they are going to let me into the highschool with a ginormous tear in my shirt exposing most of my back, regardless of how “cool” I look. I ask Amanda what to do about that, and she says usually she just throws on a sweater to mask the exposure.

I have approximately 5 minutes to wrack my closet in search of said sweater that my new fashion lineup came without, before I miss the bus to to first day of school.

I don’t do well under stress, so I decide that the first day of school isn’t actually all that important and it isn’t REALLY the first day of school because it’s only for a couple of hours, and I just found out about this little first-day orientation thing earlier in the day. So screw the first day of school, I’m staying home in all of my well-coutured glory.

And then I wake up with the most horrendous pounding headache, like the kind you get when you’ve been holding your breath for WAY too long, and all I can do is lay there for several minutes waiting for it to subside.

Do you ever have dreams where you’re back in highschool again? I hate those.

Actually, I didn’t have THAT MUCH last night (just a very strong margarita), but it’s the only explanation I can come up with for the dream I was having when the carpool man started honking his horn to let the guy accross the street (and the rest of the neighborhood) know he was here.

Usually, I really hate that guy, but this morning it was a welcomed interruption.

I was dreaming that my little 90-lb grandmother … who has been dead for a year and a half … was alive and in roughly the same physical condition that she would have been in, say, oh, fifteen years ago (still 90 lbs, but also very healthy and active).

I was visiting her in a house I have never been to and had Little Button with me, and Grandmommy (or the alien that had taken over her body) was trying to give me drugged cookies so that she/it could abscond with Button.

Being the sucker for a good chocolate chip cookie that I am, I accepted the cookies and had no choice but to perform Judo kicks to get past her and out the door with Button before the effect of the cookie drugs escalated.

On a side note, I have never taken Judo.

I had not yet completed the Judo-kickage to safety when the car honking commenced. It was an odd transition back into reality.