Cookie dough is like a pregnancy test

When I was trying to get pregnant (and by trying I mean, decided to have a baby, took a trip to Italy, lit a bunch of candles and came home pregnant) I bought a three pack of pregnancy tests. When I got home from Italy I knew- knew I was pg, and yet when I took that first test it came up negative.

I was devastated.
The next day and the next test provided the same result.

But that third test, it was just sitting in the bathroom cabinet, just sitting there. Taunting me with it's non-taken-ness and I just had to take it and be done with it so I could move on and be not pregnant for another month.
But then...so faint it was barely visible to the naked eye was a second line. A line. I rushed out and bought three more tests, and then three more and finally one of those overpriced 1 in 5 women can misread a pregnancy test (say whaaa?) tests. You know the one...the one that says in big letters PREGNANT.

It was glorious.

This past week I made The Boss some of Auntie Keek's (Keek. Boss speak combo for Kelly and CAKE) awesomelicious egg free cookie dough. It's my PMS fav and the little dude had a rough week so a treat was in order.
It goes a little something like this:

Blend together:
1/2 cup butter
1 cup flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tbsp water
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt

Stir in 1/2 cup chocolate chips.

You're welcome.

(typing that out I realize I used a tablespoon and a half of vanilla. Oops! My bad. It was delish though!)

The Boss and I had a lovely snack of it. And the next day we did as well. Then...then he went off to dream land. But that cookie dough was just sitting there in the refigerator. Just sitting there. Taunting me with it's non-eaten-ness. I just had to eat it and be done with it so I could move on and not eat it for another month until I caved and made it again.
But then...so quietly no one in the house knew,  I ate a bite. And then three more bites. And then three more. And then I finished it all off.

It was glorious.

So you see, cookie dough is just like a pregnancy test. It will taunt you until you give in. Resistance is futile.
Plus both a baby and the cookie dough will give you a belly. And both will make you really happy.

Newsies! Get your papes! And also the Parade de Douche heads back into town!

If I eat it [the rose] I can take it into my soul and no one else can ever have it ~ Kyle, The Bachelorette.

It's Bachelorette time! Squee! I can't decide if I love the Bachelor better or Bachelorette. It's like Sophie's choice up in this joint! I mean, on one show there is a bevvy of buxom totally insane chics and maybe one or two normal ones who will never get picked *cough* Melissa *cough*, but on the other show there's utterly idiotic doucheberg's having the most bizarre pissing contest evah.

I love it. And last night the Parade de Douches came into town in a line of loonies worthy of mardi gras. It's gonna be a good season. They got all Lord of the Flies on the introductory episode, so I'm pretty sure that soon it's about to become a Survivor/Bachelorette blend. Or maybe Running Man. Whatever, this season is headed to a dark place. Suicides, stalking, and girlfriends! I can't wait!!! If you want to snark and giggle, join me and TOTT  on Twitter during the show!

Change of subject:

I was approached by NVIDIA about my netbook and how much I love it, which I do, and they made this little video of me! Check it out! (also, file in narcisissm)

 Things we can mock:
1.my voice. what the heck? I am so squeeky. I guess that's why I book a lot of character cartoony- voice overs.
2. My outfit at the park. It was laundry day. Also, horrible posture and excellent muffin top. Tossing that sweater out as soon as I find it.
3. TOTT in his shorts. Awesome tan. But how cute is he?
It was a blast to shoot! And since I do love my netbook, it was no lie.

One last bit of biz:
Hopefully you've all noticed my little message at the top of this blog! Look up...go on. Yup! We are mooooooovin on up. (to the East Side). You know how you can do your own mani/pedi and dye your hair, maybe give yourself a facial and you look in the mirror and think "dang! Well done me, I look pretty good!" but then like, for your birthday or Mother's day you get to go to the salon and someone who really knows what's going on fancies you up and you look in the mirror and think "dang! what was I thinking that I could do this to myself! This is so much better!"

I've done my best to give this blog it's home grown mani/pedi and touch up it's roots (lamest analogy ever.) but dialmforminky.com is working it's way through salon de NapWarden. Bless her heart she has worked her magic and very soon we will be unveiling the new look and also making the big leap! The URL will remain the same, but I don't want to lose a one of you! So I hope you'll help me move by coming along for the ride. No heavy lifting required!

That my friends, is what a random recap blog post looks like. Lamesauce, but it had to be done! Back to the funny on the morrow!

I laughed till I peed.

Mr. M just pointed to this and said "mommy's juice!" Indeed.

In the immortal words of Clairee Belcher my dream last night was "too twisted for color t.v."

I mean, Borat and I took our jobs on that jury very seriously and we did a good job, but our subsequent Running Man (not a euphemism) left a lot to be desired. Still, "It's Getting Kind of Hectic" is a song that has stood the test of time, at least in my dreams, it's a jamming tune. Disappointingly, neither Borat nor myself made the Barnes and Noble Songleader squad.

Maybe next time.

My Southern Grandmother used to say that we suffer from a delicate constitution. She ran completely on Valium and narcissism so I'm a believer. Her thesis was supported by the very large fact that in her living room there was a separate fridge for the meds. The Valium had it's own fridge, people. True story. No wonder I suffer from a case of 'the nerves' (btw, you have to say 'the nerves' with a Southern dialect). I come by the crazy honestly, at least! 

Maybe I should get a fridge for the Zoloft. And the Puppy Bear's Prozac. Maybe the little light will help me read the label so as not to take the D-O-G's medicine again.  I don't need a big huge fridge like the Grandmother had...just a teeny mini fridge. Does Anthropologie make one? Cause I want it pretty. I should invent that. There's money in that, y'all.

It's such a bummer I can't have the gooooooooooooooood drugs with this dang cyst. Due to the fact that I am a bad weaner, I am relegated to Tylenol only. Although with dreams like these on the 'nol, I would fear to see what I'd come up with on the Vic. 

And now, (for a non-sequitor) I'd like to introduce a new feature here at the Minkster - Texts from Dub. The first month we moved away Dub and I texted 1, 478 times. This was both tremendously unfortunate as I did not have an unlimited texting plan then; and also totally impressive because at the time I had a baby pink Katana. Ah, the Katana...it wanted to be a Razor when it grew up. How did I ever live without a smart phone? Anyhoo, Dub is the funny. She makes me laugh till I pee. Those of you who have had a baby know what I'm speaking of. 

And so, I leave you with this...why I love Dub.

Only a sister would share that with you. And then let you share it with the world.