Made in Richmond

I have a tendency to go insane. In fact, there is an entire category on this blog called “insanity.” There is also one called “sell crazy someplace else” but that one doesn’t get used as much because it implies a departure from said insanity, which, let’s be honest, doesn’t happen very often.

Luckily, my husband is very good at coaxing me out of these irrational furies. Not that he would ever call them irrational because the sure-fire way to make an irrational woman more irrational is to tell her she’s being irrational. I refer to these coaxing moments as “talking me down off the ledge.” I had one of those moments today. Actually it was several of those moments, all bunched together and spanning approximately three hours and could be identified as an existential crisis. It was not good.

The worst part is, it is during these ledge talkings that I have an irresistible urge to pick fights with him. I get really, really mean. You don’t even want to know.

But luckily, he doesn’t hold it against me. He just talks me through it until the fit is done and tells me he loves me when it’s all over.

Ross is constantly asking people to go with him to Sonic. It never works because 1) Who wants to go to Sonic? and 2) The closest one is on Hull Street across from our high school which is 15 miles away. Anyway, the main reason Ross wants to go to Sonic (other than his penchant for heart attack-inducing cuisine) is their commercials. He told me he loves their commercials because they remind him of the conversations that we have.
Like this:

And this:

And especially this:

Love on Main Street.

T-Rex Valerie!!!

He can’t sass me.

So happy but so tired. I think this was after the nap.

I’m so proud I can’t stand it.

I was so over the brown so I asked Ross to change it. And unfortunately for him, I now work with people who code all day long and I know such changes do not take that long at all. In fact, I think I specifically said, “Oh c’mon, I know it won’t take that long. YOU CAN’T FOOL ME ANYMORE.”

I’m such a treat.

Do you want to know why I love my husband? I mean you know about this and this, but really, it’s things like this that seal the deal. I mean, come on! There’s a whole section on isms! And be sure to check out the Compendium of Lost Words - or I will deartuate you.

On Monday August 13 and 10:00 I will be doing one thing: watching the premiere of Season 3 of The Hills. I would call this show documenting LC (”famous” for being on Laguna Beach) and her friends as they bump around L.A. a guilty pleasure, but I don’t feel guilty about loving it. I don’t feel guilty in any way whatsoever. I used to think I liked these shows because they made me feel better about myself and what I do with my life, but that’s not it at all. I love these shows (The Hills, specifically) because they represent a life so completely foreign to me that I find it incredibly fascinating. That, and they wear really cute clothes.

This is why I love my husband:

Gone are the Game Cube, Xbox, NES, and other evidence of a college guy’s apartment. I am so happy.

I loved Michael J. Fox when I was little. Well, specifically the Marty McFly version, NOT Alex P. Keaton. The suspenders. The skateboard. The rolled up sleeves. They all sent me into a prepubescent swoon. And a pubescent swoon. And an adolescent swoon. And ok, currently an adult swoon.

When I was little, I planned to marry him. Not wanted. Planned. Our first dance at the wedding would naturally be to “The Power of Love” and I would wear the dress that Leah Thompson wore at the end of the movie when they went to Echantment Under the Sea Dance. We would take the car and go up to the lake for our honeymoon. Then, we would move into his parents house- the one they live in at the end of the movie, not the beginning - and have a baby named Emmett and a puppy named Einstein, Jr. Ahh the dreams of the young.

Stat.