Why is it that whenever I see a Siemen's van, car, or box I giggle like a school kid? Because I am immature at times, too. We saw one this morning at the hospital when I dropped of Jay, and I couldn't help but laugh. I told Jay I wanted him to work at Siemen's so I could laugh every day.
Hee hee, Siemen. Spelled wrong or not, it is just funny.
Also, to you Brits out there, do you really call a belly button "tummy button"? Because that is just the cutest thing I have ever heard of! I read it in a very depressing book "Things I Want My Daughters To Know". I was in the bath, and I started to giggle and reread the paragraph to make sure I read it right. If you do call it a tummy button, I am catching the next flight over and moving there permanently. Not only will I drop my clothes for most men with an accent, but if I heard a guy call my belly button a tummy button in a hot accent, I would let him do things to me Jay can only dream of because I keep telling him no.
Last, but not least, how many times must I tell someone "keep out of my asshole" before they finally believe I mean it? Because I've been saying no for almost a decade now, and he's still trying. There is no "accidentally" slipping that past me. You know when someone is trying to put something in there. I told him "Look, when I can do you in the ass, you can do me in the ass. And I have to do you first because I KNOW you will get out of your end of the deal", but he has yet to take me up on it (Thank Goodness! We can't afford a strap-on right now) but he has also not stopped trying to get in the poop shoot. Why, men, why would you want to go in there? Does poo magically turn to gold if your penis gets into my bunghole? If yes, then show me the study, and I'll think about it. That could possibly be worth it. But until then, leave me alone back there.
Wow. What a discussion? It's been one of those mornings.
Today is "finish laundry and clean the house" day. Tomorrow is "Pack my ass off, detail the car, and finish baking food" so that everything is neatly stacked by the door for Jay to load into the car Friday morning. Friday, the plan is to feed everyone breakfast, load the dishwasher and run it before we leave, and empty it so there is nothing dirty or sitting out while we're gone. I also plan on stripping all the beds, re-sheeting them with fresh sheets, and getting the other sheets cleaned and put away. I like coming home to a fresh clean bed. I will also vacuum every room and make sure the kids rooms do resemble shit holes. Jay thinks this is an OCD issue, but I just see it as a way to come home and be stressed out walking into a mess. Plus, if someone decides to rob us, I wouldn't want them to think we were gross people. Hopefully, they would feel the need to be as neat as possible while robbing us of all our most expensive possessions.