I love how I sit all day in front of my computer completely uninspired and then when I finally have some ridiculously important things to tell you like how badly I want to own Kelly Ripa’s wardrobe and I am seriously hoping that the tooth fairy is going to bring it to me and put it under my pillow even though I likely won’t have my wisdom teeth to put under there for her to collect, and how laughable Nic Cage is to look at and how The People’s Choice awards are possibly the world’s largest waste of time because only the winners show up…so all it takes is a quick pan through the audience at the start of the show to know who is walking away with awards – – – Jane Lynch, Zac Efron, Neil Patrick Harris, Conan O’Brian, Taylor Swift – – because, interestingly, no one else nominated in their categories are there…and I REALLY needed to tell you about how we play Rockband all the time and my son Joshua clearly gets his vocal adrenaline from his mama (and not from his papa) because dude can’t sing..like even a little bit, and the sound of him butchering The Beatles? Well…there’s nothing on earth quite like it. Well, maybe his rendition of Space Oddity ohmygodyouhavetohearit.

Yes, so I have these super important things I need to tell you but then my stupid internet goes down.

My life is FULL of real problems.

Hrm. What else can I tell you?

OOH! I am a parenting genius. GENIUS. Remember I told you how my kids are kind of assholes to each other and legitimately just don’t like each other and can’t figure out how to treat each other with any kind of respect? Well, well, well, guess what MamaAli instituted for our morning drive to school? Oh, it’s good, you guys. First, Emily needs to say something she likes about Josh and Isabella. Then, Josh needs to say something he likes about Emily and Isabella. And finally, Isabella needs to say something she likes about Emily and Josh. It has only been three days and I have been fascinated by what gets said…I mean, sometimes, it’s like… “Emily, I like your boots.” BUT occasionally, I get me a gem. Mama – 1, assholey kids – 0.

Sometimes I mix up Leighton Meester and Minka Kelly. And then I get creeped out when I see them standing side-by-side. I’m all…GAH IT’S LIKE THE OLSEN TWINS and I have to remember that one of them is actually cuter than the other. (In case you were wondering. Minka is the cuter one. and Ashley is the cuter one.)

I also can’t figure out how to use LinkedIn. I am less creeped out by this.

Also, I haven’t had any sugar or desserts since December 27^th and I have lost exactly one pound. Clearly it’s a sign that I need to have more desserts in my life. Clearly. Who wants pie?

Okay. Seriously. What in the Sam Hell is up with all the dead birds???!?! I mean, it’s bad enough that my nightmares typically look like scenes straight out of The Birds with some scary clowns and evil children thrown into the mix, but now there’s like a bird phenomenon happening around the world? I honestly feel like I’m getting punk’d every time I see anyone tweeting about these damn birds, but then I remember that Ashton Kutcher is way too busy twitpic’ing ridiculous vacation photos of him and Demi Moore to prove to the internets that he dresses weirdly and isn’t having marital problems to be punking people.

Thanks to the stripper I met in Vegas, I can’t stop calling my special lady place (TM Metalia) MY COOKIE which pretty much send me into hysterics every time I say it. It also makes me feel weird about eating cookies, which really is upsetting actually since Girl Scout Cookie season is upon us and I am being super nice to my friends who live in the states who have access to these little heaven nuggets.

(Aren’t you glad my internet is back up and running?)

(I may or may not be under the influence of some extra xanax due to a wee bit of severe anxiety about my wisdom tooth removal at 10:45 on Friday morning. I have opted against my better judgement, to go under GENERAL instead of LOCAL anesthesia and I am terrified of THE VOMIT, but I was also terrified of listening to my teeth crumble and what the room might smell like and of maybe, possibly having a full-on panic attack while someone is doing important dental work in my mouth. So…general it is. Unfortunately. to have a combination of local and laughing gas. So please, please, please to everyone who keeps telling me that general is the way to go…PLEASE STOP. )

(Aren’t you SUPER excited for the post-surgical post when I’m all drugged up? You better be. I’ll probably be funny.)