Yes. I get it. My last twenty-five posts have somehow centered back to food. I clearly have a problem. I should be on Maury or Montel or The View discussing my awful obsession with frosting and dinners and celebrations that center around both.

Or maybe just the sick obsession with frosting.

I realize the food posts need to stop. However, today something happened that I simply had to share. I found myself hovering over the sink thinking, “Wow. I really don’t want to tell anyone about the shame I just experienced.”

And then five minutes later I was in the car laughing thinking, “Ahaha, I have to tell someone about this.”

So here we are.

Tomorrow is Will’s birthday. Yesterday we drove down to Will’s parent’s house to celebrate his birthday. We went to eat and afterwards Will’s mom sent us home with a dirty cake.

Heh heh. Dirty cake.

Doesn’t it just sound sleazy? Like you need to be listening to Keith Sweat or R. Kelly while you take the lid off? Or like you should be slathering it in some sort of edible oil?

Sorry for the visual. Let’s get back on track.

Anyway- dirty cake. Us. Taking it home.

We brought the cake home but didn’t have any last night. Which meant there was untouched cake in my house for more than 12 hours, which is pretty much a miracle.

In fact you may want to check page 22A of your local newspaper. I bet I’m in there.

So today for lunch I had to run to the post office to mail off my transcripts for my school application. I had already brought my lunch to work with me, so there was really no need for me to go home for lunch yet somehow I found myself getting into the car, as if on autopilot, and driving home. You know, to let Boz and Lucy out. Wink.

So I get there, let them out, and am standing around the kitchen thinking, “What am I doing here?” Knowing full well what was really going on in my mind. The cake.

So, I play with a little fire and open the fridge- and there it is.

In fact, as I opened the fridge I’m pretty sure I heard some Marvin Gaye playing in the back of the Crisper area- and as soon as I shut the fridge the music went away.

I peeked it open again, to be greeted with the same sound. Only this time I exercised some degree of willpower and got a nectarine.

Because, as we all know, nectarines are just as satisfying as chocolatey cake, yes?

I finished the nectarine and really realize I need to go back to work.

I mean that is Will’s cake! His mom made it for him! It’s meant for us to share it together in honor of his special day. What sort of sick, awful, hormonal person eats their husband’s birthday ca…

And before I could finish the word, there I was. Standing over the sink trying to slyly carve out a tiny piece of dirty cake so that Will would never know someone sampled it before he did. Only the tiny sliver soon became about half a cup.

Wow.

An all time low, I thought to myself.

So what was I to do!? I couldn’t let Will know I was such a selfish awful wife!

Think, Brittny, Think!

Ahaha!

If you’ve ever had dirty cake, you know that it’s topped with whip cream.

So, in my genius, I went to the freezer and pulled out our gigantic tub of Cool Whip.

Because, as you know, every two person household has a costco size bucket of Cool Whip in their house.

I went to work, almost artist-like, filling in the “tiny” hole I had created, and spreading the oreos overtop.

Brilliant.Before I knew it- Tada! Good as new. Like I never ate a giant hole through Will’s birthday cake.

So now I don’t feel so much like a heel. Now I simply feel like I need to spend all week at the gym.

I made myself laugh, so I figured I’d share the moment with you all.

Happy Monday!

Before we get started I just have to laugh and share. So I just wrote this post and reread it and see that on this same page, just a few posts down, I posted about cake in April. Nice. Does this mean I have a problem? Actually… don’t answer that.

Will turns the big 3-0 next week.

The big one.

Well, one of the big ones. A major milestone for sure.

We decided in honor of the big event we would take a trip. However, with a trip to Branson for his dad’s 60th right around the corner, Theresa’s wedding, oh and a small insignificant nuissance called OU football season, we decided it was best to put the trip off a few months.

Plus, I think I’m way more into this birthday than he is. Likely because it’s not me who is turning 30. It’s him.

So we’re doing a trip later this year or early next but I still obviously need to acknowledge the day of his birth right?

I mean, in my mind sure a belated birthday trip is great and all but to me it’s just a great trip at that point. You’ve been 30 for 5 months. In fact, let’s just celebrate your 30th and a half birthday while we’re here, yes? So to quell the craziness in my mind I have been pestering Will nearly to death about making plans for this weekend.

In fact, I’ve been annoying him so much he may die and never make it to 30.

“29 year-old man dies just short of his 30th birthday due to wife’s constant nagging for a ‘plan.’”

I can read the headlines now.

Will’s mom always makes a cake, which is so great and thoughtful and delicious and great. But I want to make one too. Which is wonderful in my mind, right? One cannot have too much cake. There is no such thing, and I’m sure it’s written in some sort of statute somewhere confirming I am correct.

Will doesn’t want me to make another one- “One is plenty,” but we all agree above that the statute will not allow me to just settle for one. I have to produce one as well. I don’t make up the rules. I mean, I don’t even like cake all that much.

(lying. totally lying through my teeth)

So I found out today that Will is going to spend most of the weekend running back and forth from his parents town getting our cars detailed, which is what he really wanted for his birthday.

With all of this time on my hands (when I’m not scouring the house, volunteering at the senior center, and working on my secret patent) I figured I’d make something delicious.

Only, I have this awful feeling I’m going to make it and then as I sit there waiting for Will all day I will find myself in a goey frosting stupor, wearing chocolate and crumbs all over my face.

It is a definite possibility.

Hey, I figure 30 is a big enough celebration to be shared.

Bring on the cake.

Disclaimer: The decision to eat an entire cake all by myself for Will’s 30th birthday in no way hinders my decision to shed a few pounds for Theresa’s wedding. Actually I’m lying. It does. It really does. Please disregard this post. I would delete it but, well, I’m lazy.

I think there’s something about getting older that seems to squeeze the fun spontaneity and creativity out of a person. I was convinced that would never be me. Ha! Let a mortgage and responsibilities turn me into a boring old tool? Never! Well- here I am at home on a Friday night blogging. I might as well be drinking Metamucil and reading an AARP magazine. Perhaps the lack of creativity and the pain I experience trying to squeeze some amount of pithiness on this screen has kept me from blogging- oh, you know, for like a YEAR now.

Did you guys know that when I started blogging, way back in 2005, when my posts were actually pretty funny (and annoying. I went back and read some the other day and wow- I found a way to add a smiley face to freaking EVERYTHING. It really annoyed me. A lot. In fact I contemplated going in and removing the thousands-yes thousands- of smileys that occurred from 2005 to about 2007 but I refrained) that it was mostly right after I moved to Kuwait and wasn’t working? Translation- I had hours upon hours of time on my hands to create brilliant works of art (okay- I’m kidding, but you get the point). I would spend a ridiculous amount of time phrasing each post. Putting a lot of thought and love into every smiley face I placed (haha).

Then I started working. I use that term loosely. My boss once told me to shop online for work. Yes. No lie. Your tax dollars hard at work. Which meant once again I had plenty of time to blog and pontificate and create smiley works of art (again- kidding with the works of art stuff).

And then I changed jobs. And was actually busy. However, I still had access to my blog at work which meant I could type a few sentences (with smileys of course ) here and there and by the end of the day have a full fledge post ready to go.

And then we moved to America. Where I had tons of time on my hands all of a sudden. What a weird feeling. I should have been a blogging machine! Yet I wasn’t. When I look back at the decline of my posting it all started when we moved back, which is sort of weird. I’ve contemplated it before and there are a lot of reasons. Don’t worry. We won’t explore them. I guess I thought being back here would make me more consistent and it did the total opposite.

So lately I’ve wondered if I actually still like blogging anymore. And I haven’t come up with an answer. I hope it’s okay to be this honest with you. I really don’t know if I like posting anymore. I used to love it. It was my “passion.” My “thing.” Wow! Getting a little crazy with the quotations. They may be the new smileys.

That’s me being honest. I don’t know how I feel about blogging anymore and honestly it sort of makes me feel sad. It makes me feel sad that something so important to me could possibly not be important to me anymore. I know it sounds silly to feel sadness when I think about it, but I do. How is it that you can feel so strongly and so resolved about something at some point in time only to change your mind? I mean, I know that sometimes circumstances change the way you feel about something, but my blog didn’t change. I didn’t really change… I just sort of stopped caring. Why do you think that happens? I mean, I still enjoy writing. In fact I’m willingly freaking enrolling myself in school to pursue my masters- where I will be writing and writing and writing until I might want to die. Yet, again, I enjoy writing. It’s something I like. So why the blog lapse? I know that’s what you’re thinking.

Anyway, I’ve thought about a few options if I’m going to keep this thing active. I think I will try them and see how it works. Don’t worry, I will not now go into some long drawn out vow to post. Scouts honor.

Wow. You guys got like this whole long blog history. Definitely more than you wanted or bargained for. I will say, though, I have this feeling few people are reading my blog these days and the crazy thing about that is that it makes me SO HAPPY. I know I said I wouldn’t get into the reasons why I went “dark” (Ahh! Again with the quotations!), but I will say that very issue is definitely one of the reasons. I went from being a blog attention sleaze- pay attention to me! Read my blog!- to really resenting the fact that people I knew personally were reading my blog and judging me and that the potential for running into them at Walmart was all of a sudden a real possibility. That is one thing that I really hate. Which can be remedied I suppose…

Okay. Enough of the blogging talk. I’m annoying myself which means you- assuming you’re still reading- are VERY annoyed. Oh, sorry, I mean “very annoyed.”

So there’s actually been some things going on in my life. Where should I start?

Let’s not waste time elaborating on crap. I’ll just give you the high points.

I got a promotion this year! I now how a fancy, shiny “Sr.” in my title. Something about being a senior- a S-R-period- is so exciting to me. I was pretty excited about it.

I decided to get my Masters. Mainly because I’m a glutton for punishment and obviously don’t like myself very much. I’m going to study Organizational Communication. I tried, really tried to make myself get my MBA- because really, isn’t every other Masters a waste?- but the more I looked at everything and considered the whole package I wanted to drive a stake in my left eye, so I decided if I was going to willingly go back I should study something I would like- hence the degree choice.

Will and I are the same. Actually, we’re pretty darn good. We went through a rough patch over the last few months, which was the first one we’ve had in our 6 years of marriage, which I guess is pretty good? I don’t know. I guess it’s normal, which is what I had to realize. For so long I was used to us having this picture perfect life and marriage and then to go through a period where I was frustrated all the time was sort of like a reality check- like “Hello!! You’re freaking NORMAL. It happens sometimes.” You know? Anyway, it was sort of like- “Ahh, okay- so this is what that whole for better for worse stuff means.” (Wow. Again with the quotations. Sorry! I will now supplement with a smiley. Because we all agree they’re so darn great, right? )

I turned 27 this April. Which isn’t old, yet in some ways it seems as though it sort of is. My 20s are starting to come to a close and I’m a big fat grownup. I have been for quite some time now, but turning 27 really hit me. Not necessarily in a bad way.

Will turns 30 on the 27th. Which may hit me harder than it hits him. We shall see. Will’s dad turns 60 this year and we’re going to do a weekend a Branson (a quick whirlwind weekend full of lots of driving there and back) to celebrate. Will and I hope to take a trip for his big day but it will be postponed.

Still no babies. Which makes our families sad. But it’s just not something we’re talking about yet.

Speaking of families, I did mention to you that my parents are moving two doors down from me, right? If THAT’S not enough to thrust me back into the blog world quite honestly, I don’t know what is.

I still eat like crap most of the time. I don’t think there’s any need to elaborate on that. Besides, there’s like a daily story about it.

I got a personal trainer for a month and it was so freaking great and I loved every painful, sweaty, drippy, yell-y minute of it. I only wish I could afford him all the time. Plus I’m pretty sure it would allow me to justify a calorie increase. Bummer I can’t really justify it now.

We have a wedding tomorrow and Will gets to dress up again which is exciting since I never see him in a tux. In fact that’s one of the reasons that I’m still awake.  I couldn’t take off work today, so he went to the rehearsal by himself and I stayed here. He’s on his way home (it’s a 2 hour drive) but I figure by the time I get to sleep he’ll come in and wake me up so I might as well just stay awake. And possibly eat something terrible. I rarely stay up past 10 but I’ve been told that people that stay up late snack. I believe it’s called a “midnight snack?” (AHH! Attack of the quotations). Yes… a midnight snack sounds great.

So I think that’s the recent highlights since my last post. I guess in a sense, the highlights were of themselves a bit of a snack. Tiny pieces of information totally unhealthy for you yet necessary at midnight.

Help me to remember to tell you guys the life group story. It’s pretty funny and worth telling but I think I’ve written enough for tonight.

And it feels good to just get on here and unload. Really good.

Thank you blog, for putting up with my crap and just being here.

Thank you friends, for reading and understanding.

All is well in the world of Norman. Bradford is back. No seriously- I think I saw a grown man cry yesterday when it was announced.

Weird.

Will is going to freak when he finds out I decided to crank out a post at 10:30. We’re supposed to leave in five minutes. Eh- timeliness is overrated. Plus, it’s my duty to drive my husband crazy, right?

So last night we had a bowling party at work. Oh guys I am the world’s worst bowler. Perhaps it’s honestly because I don’t really care, or maybe I truly do suck. Whatever the case- I suck. Nonetheless I still had a really good time. In fact- I was the worst bowler in the office- which typically isn’t a crown you would want to wear- except for the fact that the loser got the cutest pink bowling pin with black polka dots. I love it. We’ll forget about the fact that it says “pin head” on it. That can easily be turned to face the wall, yes?

Today is game day! We’re headed to Ted’s and then the game. I think today is the first day in a week in which the sun will be out all day! I love cool sunny fall days. They’re the best.

So remind me to tell you guys about my embarrassing moment this week. Why is it that when I get embarrassed instead of keeping it to myself I tell the whole world? Who knows.

Anyway, Will is beckoning. I suppose I won’t keep him waiting.

This time.

Have a great day!

More to come…

Year One: Roses, a Card, and Chocolate

Year Two: Roses and a Card

Year Three: Roses

Year Four: Card

Year Five and Seven Months: A Gigantic Box of Dunkin Donuts Chocolate Cake Donut Holes

And the clothes come off as if you had been sent a tennis bracelet.  I mean- what beats Dunkin Donuts?

It’s all about romanticism really.

<3

So there’s like a slew of things-

very important things I might add-

that we need to discuss.

Only

I’m lying and there’s really not much worth sharing.

Actually…

I could share some pretty freaking HILARIOUS text messages back and forth between myself and sister involving all sorts of random topics.

But for the sake of sparing our pride it’s best I do not share.

Then there’s the fact that we have a mouse in our garage that we’ve been trying to catch for um

like two weeks now

but that sneaky bastard keeps outsmarting us.

It’s a genius mouse.

A genius mouse!

Like the freaking Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice.

I hate that guy!

So we’ve tried everything

and yet he’s somehow managed to escape from everything we’ve planted.

Except…

this week he was no where to be found,

and the cheese we left out remained untouched.

Which freaks me the crap out because:

A. It’s inevitable some awful smell is going to start permeating the garage because by some freak chance we actually managed to kill the guy with who knows what.(And don’t you love how I just assume it’s a guy? I mean we all know it has to be! He eats and leaves without cleaning up after himself! Enough said.)

B. There’s a bigger more skilled Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice that ate the late Einstein Bill Gates Macgyver of all mice and is now going to way, way, way outsmart us.

Like we’re going to walk out to our cars one day and he’s going to be smoking a pipe reading a Sherlock Holmes novel and asking for me to bring him his slippers.

Nice.

Anyway, it’s been eerily quiet this week and I’m not sure I like that. I mean, unless of course he is in fact dead and there’s no second mouse lurking around the corner.

Then we’re good.

Then of course there’s the fact that it’s GAME DAY.

Okay

Like in one hour it’s GAME DAY.

Yes.

I still say it with excitement in my voice. Who cares if we blow this year (okay I’m totally lying. I most definitely care if we blow this year… this is simply a psychological tactic to prepare myself for any potential future disappointment), I’m excited about game day.

I’m also excited about Olive Garden’s Never Ending Pasta Bowl.

We’ll be indulging after the game tomorrow. Hello fatness! Who am I kidding? I’ll get one bowl and be done (um… I hope anyway), but it’s still more economical to do it that way.

Sure Brittny… keep telling yourself that’s why you need pasta soaked in alfredo sauce.

Ramble Ramble…

I guess I need to get off so I make sure I’m up early enough to work off a small fraction of my lunch at the gym tomorrow morning. Hope you guys had a great Friday!

I <3 Chicago.

I already knew that because I've been there before, however this past weekend reaffirmed it once again.

I had the most amazing weekend with my mom and sister, and it's something I'll treasure for a long time to come. Especially since I have no idea when all three of us will be together again all as once.

I flew to Chicago Thursday night and was greeted by my parents and sister. We had a late dinner at Gino's Pizza- which was amazing. Nothing welcomes you to Chicago quite like a deep dish pizza blanketed in layers of cheese at 9:00 at night.

Friday morning my dad took off for a short trip with his brother for a guys weekend in Indianapolis, so it was just us girls left on our own to shop and have a wonderful time.

Saturday morning we started off at Panera Bread followed by shopping, shopping, and more shopping. I haven't been shopping in AGES. Will and I are on the Dave Ramsey plan and we've got that "gazelle intensity" to get out of debt and make sacrifices other places. Anyway, it was so.much.fun. to buy new clothes. My mom is the best. So we did that all day Saturday- followed by The Cheesecake Factory for dinner. It was a great day- and I was actually a tiny bit sore from all that walking. I don't think that's good! What does that say about my gym workout?! Perhaps I need to change up my routine?

Sunday was a lot of fun. My sister stayed the night in her apartment the night before so my mom and I got an early start on all the Labor Day sales followed by a trip to the Shed's Aquarium.

Along with the entire state of Illinois.

It was insane.

A zoo.

An insane zoo aquarium.

It was still fun. This was my second time to go. I went with my dad the first time so it's cool that I got to go with my mom this time. After Shed's my sister met up with us and we had some coffee and had a relaxing afternoon followed by-

The Blue Man Group that night!

It was such a fun show and I'm so glad we went. Guys, my mom was freaking cracking us up so much. I don't think I've heard her cackle or laugh so hard she cried as much as I did that night. It was classic and I simply can't do it justice in this blog post. The funniest part was at the end. There's this whole "thing" with strobe lights and loud music and toilet paper being pulled from holders all over the auditorium. My mom kept yelling at me and P to "Pull! Pull! Pull!" while she was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face and while the strobes were going and the music was pumping. P just looked at me and yelled, "I feel like we're at a rave with our mom!" Too funny.

Anyway, that was lots of fun.

After the show we went for a late steak- which is where I caught the end of the OU game.

And saw all I really needed to see.

I called Will immediately after (who was down in Dallas to watch the loss) and told him that perhaps this was good. Perhaps it's good that we are disappointed at the start of the season instead of the end like always.

He didn't agree.

Yesterday was spent doing more shopping. This time for P's room. Groceries, stuff for school, etc. It was fun. I love her place and I can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that she's all grown up and in this giant city living this adult life. It makes me look at myself and realize how old I've gotten as well and how surreal it seems. I still remember being in 5th grade and having her barf on my hair while we were visiting my grandparents in Iowa. Good times.

She's come a long way from those days. She's a woman in the city. Remember this post? Its sort of the same, only with her now. She’s back in America, all grown up, and experiencing this whole new life for the first time and I’m glad I get to be a small part of it.

So that was Sunday. Oh- and we also had a ridiculous amount of food. We at at the Five Guys burger joint, followed by dessert at the Ghiradelli place (um or however you spell it) and, well, I think the list goes on from there.

It was around the time I finished my dessert that afternoon that I started to feel a little bummed.

Which is what I promised Will I wouldn’t do. He knows me so well. He made me promise not to get bummed out early and to enjoy every minute of my time with my mom and sister until the end. So- I tried to do that.

P and I walked around and she took me to “The Bean” (not the official name, but the one I’m pretty sure most people know it by). It was a nice walk, perfect weather, and really nice. Definitely a walk I appreciated and will tuck away in my little pocket of memories I want to keep forever (whatever that means...).

We had a quiet night in and watched TV and just hung out, which was nice. It’s those little things of doing “nothing” that you can sometimes miss the most when you’re away from your family.

Today came early and it was sad to say goodbye. I hope we’re all able to see each other soon, and I hate that we’re all so far away now. I guess that’s normal though, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it, right?

So here I am, back in Oklahoma (um, which is a far cry from Chicago, right?). It’s been a typical evening, followed by a typical (thankfully short) week, followed by a typical weekend.

It was nice to step out of the mundaneness for a while. I’m thankful for my trip.

And I’m also thankful for the Chicago pizza which will be arriving to my door Wednesday afternoon.

I’m off to watch TV with Will.

Happy Labor Day!

An interesting phenomena has occurred at the B-Love house this past week, and every time I think about it I laugh.

I’ve found the perfect babysitter for Will so that I can play on our new iMac.

It’s called fantasy football.

Yes, I realize this is no new babysitter, and something that occupies an exorbitant amount of time of Will’s life during the fall months. However instead of being annoyed with it I’ve come to embrace it.

Well… for the most part anyway.

The funny thing is that Will thinks he’s found the perfect babysitter for me.

The iMac.

He figures he can stick me in the office to play on our new computer and iChat with my sister and I’ll be content for hours- and he’s pretty much right.

Only we all know who’s really getting one over on the other person, right?

(incase you’re wondering- it’s me).

Um and as a side note, do you guys remember The Babysitters Club books? Good times. I was so in love with those girls and used to want to have a club with my friends just like theirs… Do you think it counts if you and I start our own adult version of The Babysitters Club and use things such as NFL Sunday Ticket, Playstation 3, and pizza to occupy our husband’s time while we go shopping? Is that bad?… Don’t answer that.

The madness begins this weekend. If you’ve known me for a while you know that “the madness” refers to football season. Both pro and college. They both consume Will’s life, and for the next few months I become a football widow. Will galavants around with his mistress (football) from September to January, fully consumed with each point scored, each stat, and every matchup.

And I no longer pretend to “get it.” Because although I fully understand his passion for the sport, I’ve given up on trying to understand the obsession behind it.

I have to admit, though, I’m a little jealous of Will this weekend. He and Ross are going to the OU-BYU game at the new Texas stadium- which I think is going to be pretty amazing.

Don’t feel bad for me though, I’ll be having plenty of fun myself. I’m spending the weekend with my mom and sister and get to see my sister’s apartment, school, and everything else. See? More babysitters. I’ve got Will occupied with the game, he has me occupied with my family.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Oh and don’t worry- this doesn’t mean we’re not getting any quality time in together. We still have season tickets, remember? I’ll be alongside him for plenty o’ games this year you can count on that. Plus who could forget OU-Texas

and OU-Nebraska (!!!),

both out of town trips which I’m very excited about.

It all balances out and we’re both (much) happier for it. I’m not a nagging wife, and (in my mind at least) he’s not some crazed football fan. Who am I kidding? We know that’s a lie. Well- at least this way I’m a tiny bit removed from it.

Hey- at least he never paints his chest.

It’s the small things really.

<3

When in the world did I become so boring!?!

...

Okay. When I say it like that it implies that at some point in time I was a wild child.  A barrel of laughs. A party waiting to happen. And, well, you guys know that’s never been true. Lately, though, I feel like I’ve brought my boringness to an epic level.

Is it possible to become even more of something- to include boring?

I guess so.

I mean, I think Carrot Top has become uglier over the years. Jessica Simpson has become more annoying. Orlando Bloom has become more gorgeous. So yes, one can definitely become more boring.

Perhaps this is all part of the natural progression of life- only they just don’t tell you about it because they don’t want to bum you out. I mean, how would you feel if you really knew the truth?

“Well, Suzy, when you get grow up you’ll go to college, and graduate, and get a great job, and get married, and have babies, and have bills, and a yard to maintain, and a house to clean, and fat to fight, and wrinkles to hide, and nothing to do, and then you die!”

Yeah… it’s probably good they skip over the last part.

Okay- so I’m exaggerating. A lot. Adult life definitely has its perks, we all know that. I mean how many seven year olds can have a Miller Light and Lucky Charms for dinner and then watch MTV until 11:00 (and um who am I kidding? I can’t even remember the last time I was up at 11 on a week night. Oh well, you get my point.)?

However, it does seem as thought since we’ve moved back Will and I have become really boring. Perhaps that is what happens when you’re in your mid to late twenties and live in Oklahoma?

Oklahoma.

Quintessentially the most boring of boring places one can live.

Maybe that’s my problem? The good old Sooner State.

I suppose I can’t blame all my infirmities on my state. I suppose there’s also nothing wrong with being “ok” with a night in (all.the.freaking.time :( ). Ha ha. Being “OK.” No pun intended. I’m hilarious.

I say all this because the other night Will and I were talking about what we wanted to do this weekend. Usually we go to church on Saturday and then go out to eat. I thought it would be fun to go to Bricktown and walk around and have dinner and see where the night took us. I even hinted that maybe he could take me dancing. Will, however, thought it would be more “fun” to go to a Chinese buffet.

Again.

(we did this exact same thing two Saturdays ago. I swear my anthem lately has been NIN’s, “Everyday is Exactly the Same” only I’m wearing different clothes.)

A Chinese freaking buffet.

There’s nothing wrong with that I suppose, but I mean… it’s Saturday night and we’re young and “fun” and carefree and childless. We should save the buffet days for, well, not Saturday nights. Something about a buffet on a Saturday night just screams awful and old and sad. And fat. 

I know- you guys think I’m utterly ridiculous. I probably sound silly. I’m not saying I want night after night of late nights and toilet hugging- I’m not saying that at all- I guess I’ve just got this urge to go have a fun night out.

What do you girls think? Are you in?

Now we just have to find a way to pry our husbands off of the Cashew Chicken and get them on board.

Here’s to a bunch of regular, boring, old married couples having a wild and crazy night on the town!

Don’t worry- I’ll make sure our fun ends at 9:00 on the dot. I know how you like to be in bed early.

It never ceases to amaze me how often I watch Will and I following the patterns and behaviorism of our parents.

For instance, the other day we were talking about how it was taking someone freaking for.ev.er to order at the Taco Bueno drive-thru. I’m making all of these jokes and being goofy and then Will randomly spouts out, “Maybe she hasn’t had much experience with drive-thrus,” all serious and with great thought as if he was concerned about her social well-being.

...

I was more just complaining- but okay, if you want to get all serious on me.

“That sounds exactly like your dad!” I said, all creeped out.

Weird.

Or me.

If you irritate or annoy me you better be darn sure I’m going to let you know about it!-

under my breath and while I’m walking away of course.

Ugh! I hate passive aggressive people.

Ding Ding Ding- hello Brittny, welcome to your. life!

Sigh.

Anyway- it’s just funny to me how much we tend to resemble our parents from time to time, and I’m sure it becomes even more surreal after having kids

(Although, after today’s episode of MTV True Life: I’m Pregnant I’m pretty sure Will and I are pretty much on the same page of not having kids for a very long time.).

So I tell you all this because Will and I finally purchased a coffee table last weekend! We had to order it so it wasn’t ready until this weekend. We brought it home last night and decided around 10:30 to begin assembling it.

Oh- and I should probably mention that 10:30 is about our bedtime, so anything after that time can be equated to a drunk person trying to operate heavy machinery or a blind person giving you a perm. We’re simply not at our best after 10:30.

So we Will began working on the coffee table while I stood around offering moral support. The bottom of the table is a rich, dark, bronze-y metal so getting the screws to line up just right and fit the screws was sort of a challenge.

Oh- I guess I should probably show you the table so you know what I’m talking about. How rude of me!

Here’s our new table. Chateau Rustique. I really like it. This picture doesn’t really do it justice. I’ll have to take a picture of the living room for you guys at some point.

Anyway- it’s just so funny to me how long it took Will to put the table together. He is such a perfectionist. One of the screws… nuts?… I have no idea. Screws! Yes- screws.  Anyway, one of those were stripped so Will had a hard time getting it to fit properly into the table. It took for.ev.er. I thought it was fine and perfect but Will, the “handyman” just like his dad, thought it could be better. I thought I was going to go crazy.

So- an hour and a half later my perfect coffee table was finally assembled.

I’m very pleased with our table. I am sort of afraid that it’s too big, but it might just be the fact that we spent a year without a coffee table and now I just need to get used to having one around.

I’ve already started to notice one thing about having this coffee table.

It’s another surface.

Another surface for Will to spread all of his junk atop.

That means more room for stupid crap mail and football magazines and newspapers.

Cringe.

His dad is a big time stacker of crap on surfaces.

Will is the same.

We have this gorgeous desk we bought last year which should really be displayed, only it’s hiding behind piles of Lord knows what.

I blame Will’s dad for this, you know.

My saving grace is that my parents are visiting next week and it will give us a good opportunity to overhaul his piles and organize everything the way it should be.

Let’s just hope it remains that way. Like father, like son I suppose.

Here’s to hoping.