June 15, 2012

GIFs Make Me Giggle

I can't stop, y'all.

No matter how crazy or heavy life gets, a good GIF can distract me. In all honesty, even a mediocre one can make me crack a smile.

 Didn't you need one more way to procrastinate today?

When I try to have a client call but I'm in total mommy mode:

When I read mopey, 16-year-old-style song lyric status updates:

When an eBay seller accepts my exceedingly low "best offer":

Me to sweet tea:

When I find an unexpected $10 bill:
Mama's takin' this loot to Chick-fil-A!
When I get a text that someone's on their way:
I've looked like this all day!
When I'm trying to follow along in yoga:

When that 'mad at the world guy' posts another "righteous anger at the other 5 billion 'idiots' who live on this planet" status:

When my Facebook newsfeed features 12 versions of the same breaking news:

When I stumble upon a dessert I didn't know we had:
There's a reason I don't buy sweets. (It's called my derriere.)
When B has to work crazy late for the eleventy billionth time:

When Hannah Montana announced her engagement:

When I drive somewhere I've never been before:
Also, this is from the creepiest movie scene of all time. Eep.
When someone calls me shallow:
(Not in the serious way, obvs. But yes, I do have an inappropriately large scarf collection, a' thing' for expensive flats and a strong dislike for men who wear jorts or pinky rings, girls who let their underthings say 'hello' and people who flaunt their misunderstanding of basic grammar in public.)

To wit:

June 14, 2012

Turns Out My Kind o' Crazy is Genetic

Subtitle: Housebound and going bananas.

School is out. The weather is uncooperative. The Mac man is potty training. In short, I want to hug the late Steve Jobs for his most entertaining inventions.

We heart an iPhone. And an iPad, for that matter. A two-year-old can never have too many means by which to admire himself.

Actual content to come, I promise. For now, a filmstrip of Smith family shenanigans.

Tell me we're not cut from the same cloth, this half-dressed, potty-training hot mess of a boy and his only barely sane mama.

Thank goodness such tomfoolery makes Mary Brooks* giggle, as we've spent many a big-boy-underpants-filled day recently taking pictures of ourselves and running to and from Mac's dizzyingly green frog potty.

Poor girl has no clue what the rest of the world considers fun, and for that I'm grateful. This is how y'all spend your free time, right?

*MB is still healed, recovering beautifully, sleeping, snacking and growing sweeter and smilier by the hour. Thanks so much for the emails and tweets; I promise to give our girl the update she deserves very soon.


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