This is what happens when you try to take a picture with your sunglasses on.

This is Wilbur. He used to live in my office at my old job. I found him at the bottom of a box in my storage area the other day. Poor Wilbur.

Timberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

So far I’ve slept ’till 9 and, get this, read in bed for an hour! Me, Miss Must Get Up At The Crack Of Dawn And Go Go Go, stayed in bed and read, for an hour! It was absolutely wonderful. Except, it would have been better had I been reading a book I actually liked. These Twilight books just aren’t grabbing my attention. Seriously, can someone explain to me what all this Twilight hoopla is about? I really just don’t get it.

Anyways, once I finally dragged myself out of bed, I made my way to the gym where I planned to do at least six miles on the treadmill. Unfortunately my body was still in lazy-ass mode and I barely got through two miles. It was pathetic but A+ for trying right?

And that brings us to now. I’m about to jump in the shower and then I’m heading out for a mani/pedi and a little shopping (new mascara please!). I then plan on closing the day out on my couch watching cheesy chic flicks and getting started on my fantasy football strategy while making my way through a box of Trader Joe’s Joe-Joes (fake oreos, fyi) for dinner.

You know you’re jealous!

Come on, you know you want to laugh. Stop fighting it.

For years, I’ve considered that commercial to be the mother of all commercials. But then, just a little while ago as I was sitting on my sore, tired ass watching Seinfeld, I saw this:

My God. The Funny. The Hamster Funny. Oh. My. God.

Watch out duck, the hamsters are coming.

You are looking at the lovely March Jacobs watch K got me for my birthday this year. I absolutely love it. Thank God I love it because I will be wearing it everyday for the rest of the summer and probably most of the fall, or at least until the tan I got yesterday fades away. Leave it to me to wear a gigantic watch when out and about in the hot summer sun.

“Purrrrtttyy birdies! Purrrrttyy birdies!” Said the two year old trying to climb the fence to get to the “purrrtty birdies.”

This is the view from the downstairs sitting area of my second favorite Starbucks. The Starbucks no one ever thinks to look for me at. Oh, oops. Update: I can’t get this damn picture to rotate, sorry!

Happy Belated Fourth of July

Surprise! Just kidding. Seriously. Somehow, these things made their way into my bag (and apparently cart as I was charged for them) from Target. You know, its bad enough that I’m reminded by my mother on a regular basis that I’ve yet to provide her with a grandchild, now, Target is getting in on it?! Geez.

And you know what? It worked, I actually had a really good day! There were no tears, no eye rolling and no sarcasm! Who would have thought that a Monday like this was possible! Not me!

Yay for optimism and positive attitudes!!!

Boo for hour long traffic jams on Rt 128 during evening rush hour sucking every single ounce of happiness out of me. I know, I shouldn’t let a little traffic – and by little I mean car in park for at least 15 minutes – kill a whole day’s worth of positive energy, but I’m sorry, there just isn’t anything positive about being stuck in traffic, not unless you want to consider the guy to the left of me picking his nose positive. Although, now that I think of it, if I didn’t get stuck in traffic I would have missed the highly entertaining cougar show that took place at the gym. (You know, Cougar show? The Golden Girls at the gym chasing the twenty-somethings around?!?!?!) That, my friends, may have been worth sitting in all that traffic for…

First let me tell you (and by you I’m talking to you ‘non-runners’) that training for a marathon, specifically the long runs, sucks. It really really really sucks. Really really…okay, you get it. For me, the first six miles are easy and, God, I really hate to say this, zen like. Miles 6 +? Straight up homey style torture. Torrrtuuure. And I know you’re rolling your eyes and mumbling to yourself ‘hey, if you can’t do 6, how the hell are you going to do 26?” And to you I say ‘Oh but I can!’ I can do more than six. In fact, I can do 20 and have done so three times in the last three weeks. Of course, I almost died (I may or may not be exaggerating) and hated every second of it (why yes, I was the one running in the Back Bay last week dropping f-bombs like a trucker in rush hour traffic because OMG I STILL HAVE F-ING 5 MILES LEFT OMFG THIS IS NEVER GOING TO END. Rinse and repeat for miles 4,3,2 and 1) but I finished!

And the fact that I finished is huge. Huge because the whole reason I’m training for a marathon is because someone dared me. Yes, someone dared me to run a full marathon. Someone who is convinced that I’m going to fail and not in the ‘I’m going to tell you that you suck and will fail to motivate you’ way. Convinced as in is 100% certain that I won’t make it to the end.

So the fact that I finished 20 miles means that I stand a decent chance of finishing all 26* in October and earn myself the right to throw a banana cream pie** in that someone’s*** face…

October can’t get here fast enough.

*I say that I stand a decent chance of finishing because while I have finished those 20 mile runs, they have been far from “solid.” These long runs have consisted of walking and crying and…well, I still have a long way to go ‘training’ wise is what I’m trying to say
**yes, the pie is part of the bet. Of course it is! The other half…well, I’ll tell you in October.
***Someone is not K

You see, trying to remove all the unnecessary junk (oh my goodness, people, the junk that we’ve accumulated over the last five years? Embarrassing), ’staging’ for sale and making arrangements for new windows (again! Ugh!) and other minor fixes by the end of June all while working full time, writing part time and training for a marathon (oh yeah, that’s right, I’m training for a marathon. The telling of how all that came to be is up next) was just…too much. Especially considering that there is no real compelling reason to rush. It’s not like we’re pregnant and need the extra room or anything (yes, L, I’m sure about that). Plus, I’m not convinced that I’ve regained enough of the sanity I lost during last year’s mess to handle the pressure of trying to sell a condo in a still rather crappy condo market.

So, for now, we’re stalling. We’ll continue to work on the list of things that we need to do as we can, with the windows being the only task list item that must be completed by the end of the summer. Everything else has an end date of April next year, the point in time in which this place will be put on the market, ready or not. Although, I should note that it is fully expected that I will change my mind about waiting come September when I’m once again sitting in 90 minutes worth of traffic…

Well, after having the locks changed (why yes, I did forget my wordpress password. I also forgot my cpanel and whm passwords. Am smart!) I was finally able to get in here and do a little ‘blog housekeeping’ this afternoon. If you look to your right (please picture Vanna White gracefully pointing to the right. Thank you), you’ll notice (if you’ve been here before and not reading through the feed) that most of my archives are gone. They’re not gone gone, just hidden as I couldn’t get myself to physically delete all 1002 posts.

I decided to do this for a few reasons, but mostly because I was really uncomfortable with the state of this site. You see, in the however many years I’ve had this particular blog, I never once managed to write a decent post. Every single entry was poorly planned and poorly written. I published every post with the promise to return the next day to edit both content and grammar, but I never did. Not once. And now, I’m starring at a list of 1002 posts, all of which could have been written better by a preschooler. Rather embarrassing. So, in a calm and composed state (read: temper tantrum) I set everything written before today to ‘private’ and I’m starting clean.

Look, I figured taking this route would be better than moving to a different domain. I’ve already done that a few times over the last few years, I’m not really interested in doing it again. Plus, nothing screams Colleen like dazed n confuzzled. Nothing. And, you never know, I may decide one day to tackle those 1002 posts and re-publish…nah, that won’t happen…