thank you nfl

You might be aware of a little NFL schedule change this year that landed Monday Night Football on ESPN. Since we don't have cable, that leaves us SOL. I'm one of the cable holdouts that refuses to pay $50-60 per month for that which I consider an inalienable right.

Matt forced me to change my mind. When learning of the many lonely Monday nights he would spend without football, he demanded cable. "Damn it. I am a salaried professional. I can afford cable TV."

So, we dished out the cash for cable. Not regular old cable, however. I'm talking digital cable with the fancy remote (I want to mention here that the remote is used, like a hotel remote, and you know what you can find on those...I promptly Mr. Cleaned it) and receiver. I have never had so many channels, so many options to sit on my butt and load on the cellulite. Tonight, I watched the end of The Breakfast Club; saw Alton Brown cook up scallops three different ways; witnessed a light fixture being made out of contact paper; and am currently watching a tied Twins' game. I know I will regret this decision sometime soon, but for now, I'm going to focus on figuring out just what the hell is the appeal of Laguna Beach.

birthday cake ban

Damn birthday cake. It got me again. I devoured this one in five days flat. Pretty impressive, huh? Cake might as well be crack to me because I seriously can't stop. I don't even cut a piece and put it on a plate. I open the box and slowly cut off sliver after sliver, eating right off the knife, until an entire row is gone. It's quite pathetic. Because I lack all self-control, I have decided to ban my favorite food from the house altogether. Cupcakes are still allowed however. How can something so little be bad for me?

Don't answer that.

wifely advice

Never buy your husband a recliner...he will soon forget how to get out of it.

massive head cold maureen

Do any of you remember that sketch on SNL, Massive Head Wound Harry? Dana Carvey played this guy who went over to his friends’ house with this huge gash in his head. His friends are like, “Hey, Harry. How are ya?” Harry’s like, “Well, fine, other than the, you know, massive head wound I have.” And then, as if Harry’s life just could not get worse, his friends’ dog starts chewing on his wound. It doesn’t just nibble either--it really goes for it. It’s a super gross sketch, but since I saw it 15-ish years ago, I have never forgotten it. How does it relate to my cold you ask? It doesn’t. But doesn’t “Massive Head Cold Maureen” sound funny? I thought so too.

it's matt's 26th birthday..."and that's sexual"

Oh, Mr. Breitzmann has turned the corner to 30. To avoid sounding old, he repeated continuously, "I'm still mid twenties." To avoid feeling old, he went up to Soup for a little golf and liquor.

the fam

matt hitting his amazingly long drive on 4

sarah getting her crane machine fix

amy & scott

after a few vodka red bull's, matt does a mean "buffalo soldier"

vegas the love machine

I realized yesterday that Vegas has special powers. I suspected it a while back when she somehow convinced my dad, the dog hater, to pet her and give her a steak bone. Yesterday, she fully convinced me. We (as in Vegas and me) were chatting with Dee, our next door neighbor. Vegas jumped on the fence and clawed at her arms, leaving long, dirty streaks. When that was not effective at gaining more love, she pawed at her chest and glasses. Dee laughed. Vegas then chewed on Dee’s arms. Dee laughed and moved away for a second before petting her again. Dee then determined that Vegas was thirsty and proceeded to let Vegas drink water from her glass. Dee is sick and older, mind you. The potential for puncture wounds and butt falls was enormous. I was kind of glad when it was over and Dee left still hole-free and walking.

look ma--we match

After eleven long months of having an almost-cool bedroom, I finally dished out $20 for a comforter at Target. Yup, it happens to have the NYC skyline on it and perfectly match the rest of our room. Pretty cool, huh? Who cares that it's marketed for college freshman.

the great minnesota get-together (summer is ova)

Summer would just not be summer without a generous helping of batter dipped, deep fried, food on a stick. Enter the Minnesota State Fair. I took my niece Schyler this year and taught her all kinds of good things...like how to eat a deep fried candybar like a lady.

fergie ferg's in the house

So, I'm being mean here and might get a dreadfully catchy and somewhat bad song in your head. I have had Fergie's damn "London Bridge" song careening through my brain for days. I don't hate it or anything--I happen to kind of enjoy dirty songs about architecture, but come on. Every few minutes, I catch myself humming, "How come every time you come around, my London, London bridge wanna go down like..." I can't be singing this song at work! At this point, I would welcome "Tom's Diner" or "Jenny From the Block."

be still my heart...

...for I am living with my very own Weekend Warrior. Matt, still a softball rookie, had a run-in with second base on Sunday. When I asked him if it hurt, he modestly said, "Well, I guess I have this little tingle that could be called pain..." Man, what a tough guy.

we partied like it was 1999

There's nothing like a wedding to bring back that lovin' feeling. We shook it like polaroid picture and poured some sugar on me. I could keep going. We also rode the train...a choo choo ride it up. Congrats Kristina & Ben!

thirsty thursday

So, it was 4:30 on a Thursday, and I was drinking a gin & tonic. Yes, I was alone, and yes, I know that drinking alone is pathetic, but I wasn’t really drinking. I was doing three things: shopping online, breaking in the loveseat, and watching Seinfeld and the local weather. I just happened to be thirsty at the time. Anyway, it was a field day for the local weathermen and women—tornados here, baseball-sized hail there. Boy, were they excited. All of a sudden, I hear this scratching. This desperate, strange scratching. Vegas was outside, but she never scratched at the door. She would much rather launch herself full-speed into it and make a big thud. After a few minutes of listening to this unpleasant noise (recall here that my slow response time is likely due to the generous shot of Beefeater I gave myself), I decided to investigate. As I got to the kitchen, I heard this violent drumming. It was raining, might I say, cats and dogs. I opened the door, and a sopping wet Vegas shot past my leg, stopped, and shook. What a bad dog parent I am, eh? What's worse is that I did it again a few hours later.

new duds

We finally broke down and decided to buy furniture. Now it looks like someone actually lives here.

the new deal

So, after six years of living together, I have finally accepted that Matt is just plain bad at doing the dishes. I know that I’ve griped before, but this time we have found a solution: I do them instead. The mood in our house has since gone from confrontational to blissful.

The old way:

Me: “Matt, I swear, if you don't do the dishes tonight, I will dump them in the backseat of your car.”

Matt: “Go ahead.”

Me: Undecipherable growling followed by stomping and chocolate eating.

Now, the counter is miraculously clear every night. Matt spends his newfound free time sitting in his new recliner watching old episodes of Friends and real estate infomercials. I’m not sure that the new deal is really fair for me, but I figure I’ll make up for it by spending some quality time with my Visa card.

electricity, electricity

A few songs have been playing on repeat in my mind lately-namely when I'm blowdrying my hair and blow a fuse. See, the charms of an old house are many, but the drawbacks are a real pain in the ass. Like not having enough power to blowdry my hair in the living room when the air and fan are on in the bedroom. Geez. What were those 1940's builders thinking? One song is "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" by The Flaming Lips. You can hear it at www.flaminglips.com (it's on the "At War With the Mystics" album). It poses an interesting question for my underpowered self: "With all your power, what would you do?" Well, if I had power, I would first become less familiar with the dripping wet trek down to the breaker box.

summertime slacka

So, yeah. It's been a while. What can I say? It has been a beautiful summer, and Vegas kept us busy rolling in dead stuff left and right. If any of you are still out there, I make you a steadfast promise not to fall off the face of the earth for months again. Until, perhaps, next summer.
This week, I present...the guts of our summer vacation.

1. We went swimming at grandma's house.

2. We did lots of homework.

3. I ran my first marathon.

4. I learned that partially eaten shoes can, in fact, be comfortable.

veg, i think it's dead

I think I liked it better when Vegas just ate ants. Yesterday, I spotted a tiny mouse in our yard (I guess you can figure out what happened next). Vegas found it eventually and spent the next twenty minutes terrorizing it. She chased it , shook it in her mouth, flung it a few feet, and trotted around the yard with it I don't think she ate it, but she did play with it to death. Literally.

quote of the day

Matt: "If we have a daughter, I hope she's as pretty as Vegas."

view from the bay

To help further our quest for a more beautiful outdoor landscape, the power company decided to dig up our sidewalk and boulevard. Thanks, guys, but next time just send cash.

a moment of silence please

Never ever trust a dog around shoes. I mean this in all seriousness. Even if he or she has never touched a shoe, if you leave them out, you're asking for it. I admit that I've been lax in the area of shoe security lately. I just toss them by the door and leave them. Vegas usually pulls on the laces a bit and leaves them be. No problem, right? I should have known better. The first sign of trouble: she chewed through a shoelace on Thursday morning. Rather than take the hint, I ignored it. Tsk tsk tsk. Now look what my poor judgement has led to...

the victims

the suspect