there's an app for that

this morning's gchat from friend:

started my period today

just like iPeriod said i would

i keep up w/ it on my phone

there really is an app for everything.

kinda makes my stack (stack! success!) of nfp charts seem lame.

up next: something completely unrelated!

so, the law student and i are still reading (though woefully behind) the bible all the way through. last night, he tricked me into reading the family lineage of esau (we take turns reading). all was going well until i got to the name oholibamah. the bible has never made me laugh until last night. can you imagine if she got lost? ohoooooooooolibamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! where aaaaaaaaaaaaaare yooooooooooooooooooou? so every time i read that name (and it was a lot), i said it like that. and laughed like it was the funniest thing i'd ever said.

note: genesis is long and repetitive. can't wait until we get to leviticus, numbers and deuteronomy, which is bound to be full of names i can't pronounce, printed over and over again in differently-arranged-but-still-same-ole-thing sentences.

hello, gigglebox

it's been a while since you've been turned upside down.

meet new blog stalkee allie.

wiping tears from my eyes now. all productivity at work is shot. quarterly reports be damned.

open letter to jessica simpson

dear jessica,

or can i call you jess? with all of your "candidness," i feel like i can.

speaking of candid, let's get to the point of my letter. i'm tired of reading another celebrity gossip article tidbit about your farts. seriously.

yes, you're pretty. kind of gorgeous, actually. you have bigger boobs than me.

and yes, everyone toots, just like you. yes, it sounds funny and usually smells, just like when you do it. i can make the law student leave the room with one pffft, and i often silently celebrate my obvious victory. or giggle. in fact, i'm pretty sure i know a lot of people who could out-toot you. i'm directly related to some of them. we even had a club. booyah.

i am a firm believer in austin power's mantra of "better out than in." but i don't tweet about it. or talk about it when i'm interviewed by national magazines. or do it at work or in business meetings. or walking around in wal-mart (like some man i know). personally, i get excited about a different bodily function (well, a couple, really) but that's another story for another time. surely you're no longer surprised by this ability, which in no way distinguishes you from the rest of the world. it's kinda funny when people do it on accident. but letting one rip just because you can - congratulations, you're on par with babies, 9th graders and drunk frat boys! awesome. who needs a grammy?

so, to conclude - yes, you toot. yes, we do too. yes, we know you toot and you think it's cute, because you tell us enough. but not all exposure is good exposure. trust me on this. public gas-blasting can only get you so far in life. stop tooting about your pooting. it can only go up from here.

sincerely,

kissey, founding member of the rootin'-tootin'-pootin' club.

new blog!

i want to move to dallas to be friends with these people.

aren't they fun? i may start living vicariously through them.
like taking perfect artsy pictures of us being goofy and being more candid
and witty than i thought possible.

it could work.

note to self: become a picture-taking person.
2nd note to self: get a new camera. snap with abandon.
3rd note to self: convince the law student to go along with it.

perk: being able to see my sissy as well.

that's her.

those are her dogs.
her boyfriend loves them.
like his own children.

plus, dallas would be waaaaay cool.

speaking of, the law student (yes, i'm reverting back to the original name. for now.),
he did get some substantial job leads yesterday.

yay!

by substantial, i mean job leads that did not include such phrases as:

"we're not hiring, but please send us your resume."
"i don't know if he's looking for anyone right now, but email your resume."
"i may know someone. email me your resume."

yay!

sadly, they are not in dallas.
or ashville.
or nashville.
or anywhere really happenin'.

poot.

but more yay than poot.

monday night heartbreak

dear dolphins,

your special teams - woof.

you were the first to score. the golden mullet didn't score a touchdown. you held the patriots to 2 field goals in the first half. you walked back onto the field leading 7-6.

and then you let them score in the first 14 seconds of the second half. your quarterback threw 2 interceptions that resulted in 14 points, and a pick-6 to round out the game. not to mention i had to hear the name benjarvus green-ellis over and over again, which is not only a mouthful but also a player of my alma mater's rival. salt in the wound.

but nothing compares to the special teams. wow. y'all really showed out. after last game's blocked punt, surely you practiced this. you must have, because you are a professional football team and you get paid to do a job. how many blocked punts did you have last night? three? i lost count. i'm pretty sure your total lack of ability to simply execute a play that for any regular team is a given directly contributed to that bigger number on the scoreboard. your number one fan, my husband, stopped watching. he even stopped screaming. he probably won't even whistle all day today. if you don't know, it's a bad sign. in fact, my home life is directly related to your win-loss record.

i married into this loyalty, but i now support you as a true fan (even though jason taylor left). so, in the name of happy households and husbands everywhere,

get. it. together.

sincerely,

kissey, dolphin fan

what's in a name?

i'm so so so happy and proud that ben graduated law school (with honors!), passed the bar exam and got sworn in to the mississippi courts. but i really don't like the name "the esquire." it just hasn't grown on me like "the law student" did. i guess it partly makes sense--he was the law student for much longer than he's been "the law graduate" or "the esquire." but aren't you technically always a student of the law? i mean, you never really stop learning--there are always new cases to read and new things to learn, so maybe i could still refer to him as "the law student." i don't know. nevertheless, i'm still ambivalent about his current title here on the blog.

so, any thoughts? what say ye, blog readers, followers and creepers?

monday morning confession

i can't remember the last time i shopped for groceries. or vacuumed. or washed a sink full of dirty dishes after preparing a nutritious, locally-grown homemade meal. or even wanted to. i'm regressing as a housewife. something about this summer and this fall schedule and new football season have conspired against my good intentions and sapped my energy. i've let all this bar exam stuff go to my head. all my years of housewifery, all my standards, are slowly spiraling down.

and let me just tell you, the newly-sworn-in-and-able-to-argue-in-mississippi-courts-but-currently-still-open-to-employment-opportunities esquire does not make it any easier for me. how in the world am i supposed to polish my skills and stay on task when he so willingly washes last night's dishes for me every morning? or dusts and vacuums on sunday afternoons so i don't come home to a dirty house? i left him saturday morning painting bleach on a stain on his shirt, and when i returned home i found he had folded the clean towels and put them in their proper place in our bathroom. this means he pulled them out of the dryer. he doesn't even fuss when i send him a grocery list, at least not so i can hear him. and as a result, i never really remember what we have in the pantry, even though i made the list and the menu, which i can no longer find.

i think back to our first days together. i was often more than annoyed to see cereal bowls with spoons stuck to them on the side table, or half full glasses from the night before in random spots around the house, and i hated stepping on forgotten underwear in the bathroom. but he caught on and began to share in the work of wifely domain. it was such a welcomed help! but i fear i've created a monster. i've made myself totally expendable. i now know just how efficient my little househusband is. he's running circles around me with the vacuum, while i just lay on the couch with a glazed look on my face. i have got to get it together, pull myself up by my apron strings. because i know he's going to get a job soon, and then where will we be? looking at each other over a sink full of dirty dishes while i try to remember how to fold a shirt.

i'm not complaining. really. i know how good i've got it. and i know he enjoys making and keeping me happy more than he actually likes cleaning. and by no means do i want him to stop. i loooooooove basking in the faint glow of a really clean home, and doubly so when i didn't do the cleaning. i could really get used to this. stay away, ladies. this one's mine.