* I have so many things going on this weekend, it’s kind of insane. A paper sale (yummm, paper…), a birthday party, the Mr. is going to some car race thingy, I’ve got a wedding and Mr. Bee is playing golf at some course that costs $350 just to tee off.

Fucking crazy, right?

Luckily, it’s for work and he doesn’t have to pay. But ironically, he’s the one guy out of roughly 6 friends of ours who could really give a shit about playing golf. The other dudes we know would probably give their first born to play at this golf course. Mr. Bee is all “eh?”

* Yeah, so I’m 99% sure that anxiety is becoming a huge problem in my life. And how do you decrease your anxiety? You have a procedure that requires a camera being shoved up your ass. Duh.

* When I told my mom about my anxiety theory, she responded with “Do you think Bee has flat feet? I think that’s why she took so long to walk. You should look in to that. One more thing to worry about, I guess!” Yeah, thanks for that, Mom! Because I need MORE things to obsess about…

* I’m going to this sale tomorrow morning that can only be referred to as my own personal slice of heaven. I would make sweet sweet love to paper products if I could, you know, without getting paper cuts *down there*.

* I love bagels with cream cheese and lox.

* Last night I began reading Twilight. To be fair, I only technically “started reading it”, because I only got through the first two paragraphs before Mr. Bee started acting like a two year old in need of attention.

* Between Pearl and I, we’ve decided that The Wonder Pets definitely need to get with the times and get cell phones with push-to-talk, Linney needs to tell Ming Ming to shut the fuck up, and Child Protective Services need to be called on the negligent parents that leave their children stuck in a tree/saxophone/on an iceberg/etc.

What do you wish you could say to one of your child’s shows?

Come on, spill it! You know you want to tell Barney to fuck off or out Dora with her obvious drug dependency. She’s practically the Lindsay Lohan of Sprout.

* Why, when you honk at someone in order to prevent them from hitting YOU with their car, do they feel compelled to get angry and honk back at you? Next time, I’m just gonna let one of those douchebags hit me and then just say “Meow. meow, Asshat. Hope you have insurance.” Stupid fuckers.

* I absolutely hate it when bloggers try to disguise their cursing in posts. Here’s a tip, when you write m*ther f#cker, people are still SAYING “mother fucker” in their head. It’s not like we say “m-asterick-ther f-number symbol thingy-cker” in our head.  Or when you write fcuk or use SomeHellaIrritatingTrick just in order to say “shit”. Just say it already and stop the pretense that we all can’t handle it or, gasp, that’s it just completely inappropriate. We’re all saying it our heads when we read it anyway, right? So just fucking say it already.

* The other day, I was looking through a class catalog from a local community college when I came across ballroom dance lessons. Mr. Bee and I took some salsa eons ago and for one instant I thought, “ooh, that might be kind of fun.” Then I had a realization of sorts. In my about 100 weddings, every single time I see a younger couple (or any couple, for that matter) who actually knows how to dance, I think one thing: What a couple of douche bags.

Why is it that the knowledge of dance is that kind of social situation just makes you look like a nerd or that you are showing off? For that one instant, I thought it would be such a fun thing for Mr. Bee and I to do. But then I realized that we are probably suffer from enough douchbaggery as it is…