Since my last post, the kid had his birthday party, turned seven and lost his first tooth (finally). Hoorah! Let's discuss, in order:

Birthday party: Was a disaster of epic proportions, but fortunately he's too young and innocent and distracted by shiny and sugary objects to notice that NOBODY SHOWED UP. Thank the baby Jesus that two of his sweet little friends graced us with their presence that day, and one of them was dangerously close to not being able to come but was only able to because his baseball team lost a tournament game and was released from the fields. PRAISE! Totally kidding. I am sorry he lost. Very, very sorry.
Noteworthy Notables:
1. Maybe the Value Pack of 100 party plates was a bit much.
2. People are huge dickwads and don't know what RSVP means.
3. With enough candy, cupcakes, brownies, pizza and a pinata full of 18 pounds of candy, little boys will not notice that 90% of their friends blew off their party.
4. Never having a party again, so I hope he enjoyed it.
5. Redeeming part of the whole thing? I got to wear this, since it was a costume party:

I only wore it for like 12 seconds because it was so hot, but still.  2 other pics because pic a) is ADORABLE and pic b) because I slaved over 24 of these freakin' cupcakes and nobody showed up and all 3 readers of this blog can at least ooooh and ahhhh over my mad baking skillz. and c) because I can't let the only picture I post be of myself. I'm selfless like that.


I'm not bitter at all.

Moving on...he didn't actually turn 7 until Sunday, the party was the Saturday before last. Sunday we took him to his favorite restaurant for lunch (Mexican, I've trained him well.) and then to Monkey Joes to jump around like a damn fool play for a while. My first experience with MJ's wasn't very lovely, it was a Saturday afternoon birthday party and I stayed in a fetal position for a couple of days recovering afterwards. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to his choice of birthday activities. Anywho, turns out, on a Sunday right-when-they-open, it wasn't so bad at all. The jury is still out on what kind of diseases we picked up there, but the crowd was manageable. And, as a bonus, we got a pic of my youngest child flying through time and space via a bouncy slide at a negative angle.


Last but not least...so, my kid finally loses his first tooth and it's all fun and games until you get down to the business of replacing the tooth with goodies during the night. I mean, who came up with this stupid idea anyway? I am guessing the same person who came up with Elf on the Shelf. I know in theory it doesn't seem that difficult, but when your kid has bunk beds and 27 pillow pets, it's not that easy. I went in three separate times last night looking for my golden opportunity but each and every time he was protecting that damn tooth with his entire mass (all 44 pounds of it) of body weight and unless I CLIMBED UP ON THE BUNK BED I could not get to the F'ing thing. Eventually, I went in, guns blazing, DETERMINED to succeed come hell or high water- or die trying. I did almost die trying, by the way. Have you ever tried to navigate a 7 year-old boy's mini-hoarder of a room in the dark? It's a landmine field of Transformers, Hot Wheels and Legos. FUCKING LEGOS! OH HOW I HATE THE LEGOS, but that's another blog.

Anyway- After getting my hand stuck in the slats of the bunkbed for a good 4 minutes and cursing whoever decided this was a good idea, I accomplished my mission. Only to wake up to a crying child who thought the tooth fairy took his tooth and left him nothing in return- because sometime during the night he flailed around enough to knock the money, (sugarless) gum and a love-note from the tooth fairy telling him to brush his teeth more because this one looks a little grody- down the side of the bed. Thanks, bitch.

Why do I let kid's birthday parties stress me out so much? Every year I go through the same circus (Remember the BATMAN party, anyone?) and every year it turns out just fine and yet I still take years off my life...and why? Because 6 year-olds really care what they eat at a birthday party? Well, this year, I said NO MORE!! This is going to be a low-stress, low-key, small party. He's turning 7 by the way. SEVEN. How did that happen?

He was just this, like, I don't know, 2 years ago?



And now he's this:



I know every parent does this "where does the time go" crap...but really...WHERE DOES IT GO?

Anyway...back to parties. We've done parties of many themes but this year he decided he wanted a costume party. Hmm...ok. Whatever you want, kiddo. Costumes in March (which is really August temps here) should be super comfortable. I digress. He's going to be Robin and by some miracle yesterday at Party City I found a baby Batman costume for his little brother. Clever, I know.  Then I started rummaging through the accessories section and came up with a costume idea for me. So I can be FUN MOM for a change. Anyway, $85 dollars later, I emerged with a tiny Batman costume, party favors, plates, cups, feather boas, sequin masks, etc...you know, the usual.

People? Ok, this year I'm not going to invite everyone for the sake of inviting them to a party. I'm going to streamline it for just his friends he actually plays with and grandparents, etc. That part was easy enough, but I'm sure somewhere along the way someone will get their feelings hurt because they didn't get invited to a boring 7 year-old's birthday party.

Then there's the food. SIMPLE, remember, Paula? SIMPLE. Ok...we'll just get some pizzas. For the kids. If parents come they can have some pizza if they want but I'm not going to go on my all out buffet of deliciousness. Then I decide I need a hot dip. Maybe 2 hot dips. I can't expect parents to just sit around and not munch on something?

Then there's the cake...store bought cupcakes are so ick...so I will have to make those myself. And the parents might not want cupcakes, I should make a more adult-friendly dessert, too. And are 2 dips enough? Maybe some other kind of appetizer to round it out.

AND DO YOU SEE HOW THIS SPIRALS OUT OF CONTROL?

WARNING: I'm not in a good mood and I'm also in the mood to write and that can only mean one thing- a big ass post full of stuff that I'm gonna complain about.

So my kids were on spring break the past couple weeks. You know, God forbid they actually have spring break on the same week. Oh no, let's stretch it out into two weeks so I can't have onesinglefreakingminute alone for 18 straight days. The "good mom" side of me was all "Well, that will be fun! I can have one-on-one time with each of them for a whole week!". Every single thing I tried to do with Thing 1 did not amuse him. Lunches out, visiting Dad's office, shopping for dresses for my friend's wedding (Ok, can't blame him there)...all met with "THIS IS BORING." Fortunately for him, the tail end of his spring break was a planned visit to an indoor water park resort. Oh. Joy. Oh and did I mention I didn't get to share the excitement and fun of this trip with his dad? His dad got to stay home with the small, calm child.

The important part is that HE had fun, right? And he really did.

 
(THAT IS A WALL-O-CANDY!)

Me on the other hand? I did not have as much fun. Look. I try not to judge other people's appearances and such. I really do. But...there is something wrong with the general population that visits indoor water parks. I am thinking of submitting a list of rules to this place in the hopes that they will adopt them and post them and enforce them in the future:

RULES:

1. Bikinis are fun! We get it! Bikinis should also be limited to the following: adult women (Nobody wants to see your seven year-old in a thong- this is not Club Med for pedophiles) and adult women who are smaller than...let's say...a size 22. Bikinis should also be worn only if they are not bright white and therefore showing off all your business and large enough to cover your entire ass, not just *most* of your ass. We take coins in the arcade ladies, not in your rear. Cha-ching!

2. If your children are running the halls like a herd of wild elephants at all hours of the night, the grouchy lady in room 14078 reserves the right to beat the ever loving hell out of each and every last one of them until they bleed from every facial opening. (too much?)

3. If you're going to wake up at 4am to reserve your lounge chairs in the waterpark area, it is required that you at least spend 5 minutes of the day with your ass in said chair. Otherwise, you're really just hogging an entire chair for your towel all day when hundreds of people are wandering around like tired zombies looking for somewhere to sit down now aren'tcha?

Oh, I have more, but I think I will stop. Needless to say, by early in the day of day 2, this was me and that was NOT Diet Mountain Dew:



Moving on. This entire weekend was also overshadowed with some major Peyton Manning stress. I mean, major. First of all, I am a VOL. I bleed orange. That automatically makes me a Peyton fan. Secondly, I actually went to school WITH him, which makes me even more attached to him. Thirdly, I'm a Tennessee Titans fan. SO, all this hoopla about him possibly coming back to Tennessee to play for the Titans, in a nutshell, had me in a frenzy. I knew he was going to come back to us. I JUST KNEW IT. OMFG how could he not? We all LOVE him! It would be like the prodigal son returning home to his land and his people will surround him with love and fandom forever and ever and ever AMEN! Yeah sure the other teams can probably offer him much more money and a better team and blah blah blah but who cares? He's PEYTON and this is TENNESSEE and there is no freaking way he can disappoint us after all the love we have given him!

And then I started to get nervous, my thought process started to change.  He should have made his decision by now. If it was Tennessee just tell us! Say to hell with everyone else I wanna go home!! Hmm. They offered him what? Their QB is talking to who? Oh no. Say it ain't so, Peyton. Come on. Just get it over with! If you're going to destroy my hopes and dreams please just do it now. It became like that relationship you're in where you know the other person is going to break up with you, but you really don't want them to so you just wait and hope you're wrong and all the while you're waiting for the bomb to drop and your heart to get stomped on. Yeah, it was like that.

Well. Anyway. It didn't happen. Money talks and 96 million dollars is kind of a lot of money and I guess the chance to knock Tim Tebow off his unworthy throne was too much to pass up. Even for the love of millions of Tennessee fans. I will never be over this. NEVER!

In other news I just made a 30-mile round trip to the liquor store to get wine because Hubs is out of town and I have to take these kids to soccer practice tonight AND a scrimmage game and one good thing about me is that I think ahead in times of need.

Well, this was just the tip of the iceberg and stuff that's over and done with anyway- I will not go into other factors that have me extremely stressed right now (Ok, I'll just mention one- my kid's birthday party which is turning out to be a disaster at every turn and it's on Saturday and I waited til the last minute to do everything and I have no help) but the good news is that I have wine now. Cheers!

Sorry but this is just a boring recipe post. I made something awesome last night and I don't want to forget how I made it. Plus, if you want to make something awesome then you should make this too. Sadly there are no pictures because a) I didn't think it would be blog-worthy while making it and b) once I realized it was, it was all gone because we're pigs. Pigs eating pigs. The kids even ate this one. Miracles abound.

Herb Crusted Pork Tenderloin Medallions in an Apple, Shallot & White Wine Sauce with Roasted Rosemary Baby Potatoes & BACON

2 plain pork tenderloins (usually comes 2 in a package, don't buy that pre-marinated crap)
2 small tart red apples, I used Jonathan, diced (or one large one)
A couple shallots, (or 1/4 red onion) diced
Fresh rosemary
Thyme
Sage
Kosher salt & pepper
Olive oil
1-2 Tablespoons butter
1-2 Tablespoons flour
1 cup white wine- Real wine, people. Always real wine. Cooking wine should be illegal in all states.
Baby potatoes- I used gold but red are good too. The smaller the better. If they're big, cut them up.
2-3 slices crispy bacon, crumbled

For pork:

In a small bowl mix several stalks of chopped fresh rosemary- should equal about 2 tablespoons- with a tablespoon of dried thyme, a teaspoon of dried sage, half a teaspoon of kosher salt and 1/4 tsp of black pepper. (All measurements are guesstimates because I don't measure anything almost ever, sorry.) Trim off excess fat and cut tenderloins into large medallions, about 2 inches thick and then drizzle with a little olive oil. Rub herb mixture on all sides of the pork medallions.

Heat a large saute/frying pan (try to avoid non-stick) on medium high heat. Once pan is VERY hot add a couple tablespoons of olive oil into the pan. Brown the medallions on all sides, but don't cook all the way through. This should only take a minute or two on each side if your pan is hot enough, which it should be. You want to get as much color as possible as fast as possible on the meat, without burning it, of course. You will probably need to do this in two batches, otherwise you'll crowd the pan and they won't get brown enough. If you have finished browning your pork and your pan looks filthy, disgusting, very dark (but not black)-you did it right. This is what you want. THIS is what will flavor your gravy. (and this is why I don't use non-stick pans for dishes like this- no sticky, no flavor!)

Remove pork from pan and add the butter, shallots (or onions) and apples and a little salt and pepper. Saute for a couple minutes until they have picked up a lot of the brown color from the pan drippings. Add flour and stir for another minute or so, then add the wine to create a sauce. Drop the pork back into the pan and cook for 10 minutes or so until the sauce thickens and the pork is cooked all the way through.

For potatoes:

Preheat oven to 425. Coat potatoes with olive oil, salt, pepper and chopped rosemary. Roast for about 30 minutes or until they're nice and brown. Garnish with chopped crispy bacon.

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down, and I liked to take a minute just sit right there and tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.

Ok that's not really the story I am going to tell, but this one is almost as good.

This is the story about how I almost divorced my husband of barely three months. See, this happened 12 years ago, so it's funny now and I can write about it and laugh, but at the time nobody was laughing. Well, that's a lie, a lot of people were laughing, but I wasn't one of them and neither was he.

We had just got married, you see. We were living in an ugly little apartment and I had just started my brand-new office job. He had just started working for the restaurant-that-shall-remain-nameless. That means I was working Monday-Friday 8-5 like a good little Administrative Assistant, and he was working bizarro hours that were nothing like mine. Valentine's Day fell on a Monday that year, if I recall.

He was still asleep from working the night before when I when I left for work that morning. And like a hopelessly doe-eyed girl I anticipated a lovely first Valentine's Day with my new husband. (Give me a break, ok? I was barely out of the womb when I got married and I had a lot of expectations about love and relationships and Prince Charmings and all that bullshit.)

Here, I think it will be more effective and less wordy if I just do a little timeline for y'all.

7:15am: Kiss sleeping hubby on the cheek and wish him a Happy Valentine's Day, leaving a card on the kitchen table, anticipating a sweet surprise at some point in the day.

8am-5pm: Watch every woman in the office get called up to reception and bring back gorgeous deliveries from husbands and boyfriends that aren't idiots.

5-5:45pm: Drive home, thinking he must have been BUSY all day preparing something breathtaking. I mean, why else would he not have called or sent me anything? Oh damn, this is going to be GOOD. Those girls at the office only wish their husband's were doing something as thoughtful as mine must have been doing. Something that kept him busy all damn day! I bet I will walk into an apartment filled with rose petals in every color. You just wait and see.

5:45pm: Arrive home to an empty apartment, an empty messy apartment at that. No note. Unmade bed. No gourmet dinner. No flowers. No husband. No nothing.

(You have to remember that this was before the days when everyone had cell phones.)

6pm: Hmm. This is odd. Oh, I bet he's out getting dinner. Or picking up my gift. That has to be it.

6:30pm: Ok, this is getting ridiculous.

7pm: Seriously? Now is about the time I started to panic a little. I have visions of us ending up on Unsolved Mysteries. "Newlywed husband disappears without a trace on Valentine's Day. Grief stricken bride is beside herself with worry." I start making calls. To his work, my mom, etc. Where could he be? This isn't like him. What am I going to wear to his funeral? Something horrible happened. I just know it.

8pm: THAT SON OF A BITCH BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR DOING THIS TO ME. That or he better be dead. If he's not dead I'm going to kill him.

9pm: Phone rings. I answer in seconds. Conversation goes like this:
Me: HELLO?!?!?
Hubs: You're going to kill me.
Me: OH MY GOD WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU I AM WORRIED SICK WHAT IS GOING ON?
Hubs: Um. Please. Please don't kill me. Honey. You're going to kill me but I need you to come pick me up.
Me: Pick you up? What? Where? What has happened? WHERE ARE YOU?
Hubs: Um. Like. On Mt. Moriah...um...near American Way.
Me: What are you doing out th (THEN RECOGNITION HITS) ...silence..
Me: PLATINUM PLUS? YOU'RE AT PLATINUM PLUS? ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME???
 
In case you haven't figured it out- that's a strip club.

Me: <Lots of incoherent screaming and curse words>
Hubs: Honey. Please calm down. Please listen to me. I'm so sorry. It's not my fault. I know you're going to kill me but it's not my fault. Please just come get me and I'll explain. I am stuck here with no ride.
Me: What? Where is your car? I DON'T EVEN CARE. YOU CAN WALK HOME FOR ALL I CARE. I HATE YOU AND I'M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN. (grabbing car keys, of course)
Hubs: Honey. Please? It's SCARY out here. Get in the car and come get me.
Me: FINE. But I am NOT going in that parking lot you can walk somewhere else. Walk across the street to the car dealership, I'll pick you up there!

9:10-9:40pm: Drive to seedy, scary part of town to retrieve my dogassdipshitstupidassmoron husband. Whom I hate. And will never speak to again.

9:40: Arrive at destination. He looks like he's about to cry. I am crying. I got in the passenger seat.

9:40-10:05pm: Listen to his story in between cursing fits. His story went something like this, paraphrased: "Dick* (*names of the not-so-innocent have been changed. Dick* was his brand new boss at brand new job.) called me and said he was taking me to lunch. I met him at work and we took his car. He didn't even tell me we were going there! I swear it! I tried to laugh it off and he promised we were going to be there for less than an hour! Then he wouldn't leave! Before I knew it he went off to the back room with a stripper and left me there and I haven't seen him since! He disappeared for hours. I think he left with her. I didn't know what to do! Finally I knew I had no choice but to call you. I'm an idiot."

10:05pm: Arrive home to a message on the answering machine from Dick*. "Uhhh hey Chip, this is Dick*. Um. I'm real sorry we got separated at um...Red Lobster (or some other benign place, I don't even remember). I looked for you but I couldn't find you. Anyway, I'm home now. I hope you're ok. Um...call me later."

Epilogue:
1. Dick's* wife was 8 months pregnant at the time and I hated him ever since, he was fired shortly thereafter.
2. The next day, he brought me a dozen dead roses from the grocery store because that's all he could find in the city. I threw them at him and cried.
3. It was a long time before I didn't hate him.
4. For the decade+ he worked for this company we couldn't go to any work-function without hearing this story being told. It became a legend. And thus, HE became a legend. The legend of the most stupid thing any husband has ever done on Valentine's Day. Ever.
5. I asked his permission before I told this story to the world.
6. I find it hysterical now, 12 years later.
7. I think I have hated Valentine's Day ever since.

I'm here! I'm here! I know, I suck. How many times have I begun an entry this way? Anyway- I'm here, that's all that matters. Right? RIGHT.

I'm still looking into a new place to house my blog but I'm kind of apprehensive to leave here because a) I don't want to lose the few LJ'ers I have left that still bother to read my sporadic posts and b) I don't want to lose (not that they will be gone, but they won't be *with* me anymore) the years worth of stuff I already have here. Le sigh.

A few random things on a Friday:

1. I was just having an E-conversation with a friend regarding two things- 1. I have really sucked at keeping my non-resolution of blogging every day and 2. The difference between people on Facebook and Twitter. It's true. I can't lie. I am leading double lives via social network sites. On Facebook I try to keep my bad language at bay and am as least offensive as possible. All my family is on there, friends that I know barely or are just mere acquaintances with, people who would generally not appreciate the sewer that is my mouth sometimes. So, you know, I am kinda tame there. However- follow me on Twitter at your own risk. I'm not screaming the F word all the time by any means, but I'm much more likely to say what's really on my mind there...whether you like it or not. Plus, the beauty of Twitter is that sure- you can reply to a Tweet, but that pesky "comment" option is not there- generally keeping the peanut gallery's disapproval at bay. I guess my blog here is somewhere in between. I'd actually like to not censor it as much as I do, but I come from a long line of people pleasers and try as I might, I still have it bred in me to not upset anyone and so I've *somewhat* kept this place approved for all audiences. Hmm...maybe I'd write more if I let go of that?

2. VACATION!! Time to plan one. Where should we go? It probably won't be until a year from now but I don't care. I got the go-ahead to plan it, and plan it I shall. I want to go somewhere like

this:



But I'll probably be lucky to end up at a Super 8 in Tampa. Oh well. I can dream. Watch this space for future vacation plan developments. Oh. I'd also like for this one to be a kidless vacation so I'm accepting volunteers for a week-long Whitehousemom's spawn watching adventure. Apply within.

3. My bird is weird. That's him hanging out in a dish of sunflower seeds. Ok then, Pablo. (Note how I said "My bird" MY bird. "Mom. Mom. I want a bird. Let's get a bird. I want to spend my Christmas money on my very own bird. I will love it forever and he will be my best friend. I'm going to name him Captain Bird and he'll sit on my shoulder and I'll feed him raisins." Yeah. That was the day we got the bird. I don't think he's looked at him since. It's ok, Pablo, Mommy loves you.)



and so is my kid's hair. Poor thing.



I tweeted this pic to Chef Anne Burrell saying he won her look-alike contest, but she didn't reply. I guess she wasn't amused.

But seriously. He'd win.



4. Speaking of Ol'CrazyHair up there, he's been a pill lately. And by "pill" I mean "total asshole". I mean. Nothing can please this child. And then all of a sudden he'll be as happy as a lark. Bipolar? Maybe. Or maybe just 2. But he's also had a cold lately so I'm *trying* to give him the benefit of the doubt and blame this attitude on not feeling well, so I've been coddling him, I admit it. Today has been something like this, in his own words:

I refuse to wear pajamas
I refuse to wear a diaper (non-negotiable- I win)
I refuse to wear anything BUT a diaper
I want to ride around the house on my Batman Big Wheel laughing maniacally
This Batman Big Wheel has become tiresome. Get it away from me.
Fine. I agree to wear a shirt
I refuse to wear pants
I refuse to wear *THAT* shirt
And that one
I HATE THIS SHIRT
Fine. I will settle for this slightly less repulsive shirt. But I still don't like it.
I want a snack
Not that snack
Or that one
Or that one
Or that one
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU LADY I SAID I DID NOT WANT SUN CHIPS
I want Sun Chips
I want popcorn
No you may not have the Sun Chips back, I want them both
I want to throw this popcorn at the dog
I want to watch Peppa Pig
I want to watch Peppa Pig
I want to watch Peppa Pig
I want to watch a DIFFERENT Peppa Pig
"snort snort snort"
I want lunch
I don't want lunch
I hate your lunch, I want to throw it across the table
I want my lunch back
I don't want to take a nap
I refuse to take a nap
Can I take a nap now?

The end.

5. I'm going out with my friend tonight and I'm going to have a drink or 4 and I'm going to enjoy it.

Yeah I skipped another day. Whatever. I never said I was good at non-resolutions. Sigh. MUST. MAKE. SELF. WRITE.

I have a problem. Well, I have a lot of them, but I have one in particular that is bugging the crap out of me. See, one of the downsides of being a stay-at-home-mom is the whole one income thing. I'm used to it, never having much spare cash, much planning involved in vacations, etc. It really only bothers me at times when I'll be out at a store usually buying something necessary and boring like boys jeans size 2T or a filter for a humidifier and I'll see approximately eighty million things I wish I could buy if only I had some extra money. Keep on walking. Keep on walking. Keep on walking. Eventually the temptation passes and life goes on. (Imagine that?)

But then...THEN! Something amazing like Christmas or a birthday comes along and I get a magical money card aka gift cards! Sweeeeeet! Right up my ally! The poor, poor mama who never buys herself anything (ok that's a lie, I do buy myself stuff now and then. Like a shirt from Old Navy or something crazy like that. No holding me back, people)...anyway, oh yeah, poor, poor mama gets some free shit! Woot! And that's when it happens. Shoppers block. I have this money and I can't decide what to do with it. There's a million things I *wanted* before, but then all of a sudden when faced with the actual option to buy some of them I talk myself out of every single thing thinking there must be something BETTER! Something I need more than that. Something PERFECT!

So anyway my little guy is sick today so we spent the better part of the day cuddling which meant I got the laptop out and did some online shopping at Kohl's with my gift card. (Got internet back. Praise be.) I was determined to get something fun. Whimsical. Something I'd never ordinarily buy myself.

And of course I can't come up with jack crap. Then I just force myself to get *something* because that's the whole point of this little exercise and then I end up with a shopping cart with the following:

1 full-length terry cloth robe on sale for $15 (I really do need that)
3 pair of underwear
2 cardigans, but the cute flippy open kind, not a stuffy librarian one (because I already have 400 of those)
1 twill blazer

I still haven't even checked out yet! I can't bring myself to do it. I feel like I've missed the boat somewhere, like I'm totally screwing up spending this free money. (and plus I have $100 to spend and believe it or not with my bargain skills and a 30% of coupon and free shipping I still haven't even hit that yet...SO WHAT ELSE DO I BUY???? STOP THE INSANITY!) OH! And inevitably, by the time I decide what else to get and am ready to marry the "SUBMIT ORDER", half the shit I wanted will be unavailable or double in price. Then I have to start over and take a bottle of valium.

The moral of the story seems to be I needed to re-stock on basics. And I'm really boring. Meh. Maybe someone will invite me to an insurance convention or something and I can wear my new stuff.

I came dangerously close to breaking my MUST BLOG EVERY DAY not-a-resolution. I got nothin', folks. So, I'll leave you with the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, besides having kids and all that crap. It came to me on New Year's Eve, as I was sitting on the couch having the absolute most boring NYE I think I've ever had in all my years. I'm sharing my little gift with you because quite frankly it shouldn't be kept a secret. Behold:








Oh yeah, people, that's a Tweet from NEIL FREAKIN' DIAMOND. TO. ME. MEEEE!!

I know, I know, some of y'all have already seen this three hundred times and I'm sorry for the repeat, but I had to share it here in my place of memories and for those of you that didn't have it crammed down your throats on Facebook and Twitter. I'm retiring after this. I promise.

But here's the thing...I can do whatever I want. For the rest of my life. Neil Diamond said I am "so, so right". I am thinking I can print this off, laminate it, and carry it around with me as a free pass for anything and everything I want to do or say until the day I die. Right?