My inner clock thinks I'm 80 but my Brain DOES work at 5am!

After tossing and turning all night - apparently a gooey grilled cheese sammich is NOT a good midnight snack (note taken for tonight - have wine instead) - I wake up 5 minutes before my alarm which was set for 5am. I have no idea how I keep doing this, but I actually woke up that early, happy and ready for the day! Now I'm rarely up at 5am - unless it’s from the night before and I can count on one hand how many times I wake up willingly, without an alarm before 10 am. So at 5:15, I'm in the shower wondering if at a certain age your inner clock just starts getting you up earlier. Think about it, how many grandparents do you know that sleep in past 8 am? My grandfather was always up before the sun and the birds. So, after thinking about this all morning I've decided that I'm either overly anxious (my hubby comes home from Afghanistan very soon) - Maybe, just maybe the gooey grilled cheese provided me with energy all throughout the night carrying on into the morning - OR my inner clock is scarily way ahead of itself and deep inside I'm 80 years old. Eeep!

In my last post I mentioned this futuristic mascara. Well yesterday I decided that it wasn’t getting the best of me. With confidence I grab the mascara and open it - I’m now pretty sure it is not a faulty mascara but this really is how it’s suppose to look. I try it – even though it scares me – and it sucked! I had clumpy heavy eye lashes all day and by the end of the day my eyes were itchy. Said mascara is now in the garbage - Ha! I won!

In the famous words of Seacrest - Michellita out! I need a coffee – I guess the energy from my midnight gooey grilled cheese is finally wearing off!

Futuristic make up and egg fashion?

Yesterday I decided to open brand new mascara! Yes my life is exciting right now so shutty. It’s my favorite brand of make- up (Clinique) so I was, or thought I was familiar with the product. Now I’m no make-up artist but I apply my own make-up rather well. After many years of applying mascara I didn’t even think to glance at the actual brush before applying, I merely take it out of the tube and apply. I stop myself before it hits my eye lashes as my subconscious yelled “Woah, what the eff is this”. I look at what is in my hand and there IS NO brush – it’s a yellow stick –no bristles, just a skinny yellow stick with black make-up on it. Thinking I may have received a faulty mascara brush, I slowly put the brushless stick back into the tube and walked away from my make-up table. I went mascara-less yesterday and today I went back to old faithful. Youngens of tomorrow if you are out there reading this, shed some light on this futuristic tube of mascara to an old lady who is not that old.

Speaking of futuristic, Lada Gaga arriving to the Grammy’s in an egg? Pardon me?! What the hell happened to the classy Grammy days of simple best and worst dressed? Now maybe I’m wrong, but to me, the Grammy’s were always about glamour and fashion, besides the obvious of course, being an award show for music and entertainment. The red carpet spreads wide and long for those fashionistas of the industry to show off their Dolces, Armanis, Puccis and Guccis. There was Jennifer Lopez showing off leg and ass fabulously in a silver sequence dress. Kim Kardashian barely fit her ass into her gold number, but as always, still looked smoking hot. But Lada Gaga and entourage arriving half nekkid and in disgusting flesh colored garb carrying an egg where Gaga was said to be ‘incubating’? Again, Pardon me?! How is THAT fashion?  As weird as the King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson was, did he ever show up in a womb incubating?  Um no!

Hiatus number 2 and do I smell Poop?

So ok, I said I was back after a long hiatus in my last post which was dated November 2009. It's now February of 2011. So what, I lied last time. Maybe I'm back now. Maybe I'm not *play mystery music*.

I have a sort of office job (again) which in my opinion gives me way more time for random thoughts and blogging time. I actually started blogging while bored at work (feels like forever ago but let’s not go there). Getting paid to blog you say? Sure am! Few weeks ago I watched football online - yup, at work! Ah the life. I do actually do my job... occasionally. But let’s be honest, you can't set the bar too high! That sets unreasonable daily goals which in turn will make your boss expect said goals and your colleagues potentially resentful. Moral of this story, some things never change. New city, new job, same me!

So, I've been dog sitting for a friend. Now I love animals and have wanted a dog for a very long time. Well, maybe not anymore. As cute as this dog is, she gets my clothes full of hair, she kicks me in her sleep (while dreaming), she farts and it stinks, she has crapped on the floor twice in a week and a half and most importantly she takes away from my drinking time! I mean, really! That is unheard of and frankly uncalled for! So yesterday, I worked 8 hours, which she was not so happily crated for that duration. I came home to no mess, but a very hyper dog. No problems yet. I took her for a brisk walk *read she nearly pulled my arm off which made me walk faster than I wanted*. Then I decided to go to a wine and cheese tasting event (please note I felt bad leaving the dog crated again - but it was wine! And Cheese!). I wasn't gone even 3 hours... and as I walked up the stairs (with a little wine buzz) I smell poop! DOG has not only pooped in her crate, but tried to maneuver around it causing it to squish and spread along the bottom of the crate and floor. Greaaaat! Since I'm not at my own house, I have to search for cleaning supplies and paper towel. Vim should work - it’s a bathroom cleaner! But no paper towel, only toilet paper to be found. Seeing as though toilet paper is thinner and god forbid I get any dog crap on my hands, I use a fair amount of toilet paper to clean up this smelly mess. After half a bottle of Vim and a full (double) roll of toilet paper, everything is clean. I sit down, pour (another) glass of wine, sigh, and put Cougar Town on (my favorite TV show). DOG goes to the front door and whimpers, which means take me out to pee - I mean she can't have to poop AGAIN right? Wrong! Out we go for number one and two! Reluctantly she comes back inside. Realizing she's inside for the night, she finally relaxes and cuddles with me - finally letting me have my wine! Ah!