Tag Archives: #leahwouldramble

Last night, I had a really strange, very real feeling dream. There were a bunch of parts to it, like I was watching a movie, but the last bit felt like the longest storyline.

I had moved to a small town—it reminded me of Weston, MO—charming, full of history, haunting, lovely…but it wasn’t Weston. I think it was actually someplace in Alaska, perhaps. Maybe even Longyearbyen on Svalbard. (I watch too many of Sejsejlija’s videos on TikTok about that place!) It was the type of small town where everyone was familiar with all who lived there—their residences, frequent hangout spots, etc.

Moving on, though…I was at the small grocery store, waiting in line to check out with a few items, when I heard a man speaking English with some sort of accent (Russian?). He was beginning to raise his voice at an employee, because he was upset they were out of stock of eggplants. I believe I briefly met this man earlier in my dream, and he had come across as a tough guy who was generally unhappy.

I left the line and walked towards the small commotion, because it occurred to me that I had had an eggplant in my cart earlier, then had set it somewhere it didn’t belong, when I had decided I didn’t want the vegetable.

On the way over to the man and employee, I grabbed the misplaced eggplant. When I arrived to the growing argument, I interrupted and explained how there was indeed still an eggplant in stock, and that I was very sorry I had misplaced it earlier.

That is when I handed it to the man. He seemed more relieved than anything, and proceeded to tell me that he had recently lost his grandmother and wanted to cook the eggplant how she used to, in homage of her.

Then, in a strange turn, as dreams like to do, he asked if I would help him out and cook it for him, as he was not adept in the kitchen.

To sort of make up for the havoc my earlier actions inevitably contributed to, I agreed to cook the eggplant. We exchanged numbers, so he could take his other groceries home, and I could also head to my home to prepare his Grandmother’s recipe.

Next thing I know, I’m in my kitchen, talking to this man on the phone, following cooking instructions his grandmother had left him. The eggplant definitely did NOT cook like a real eggplant! When I was done, it looked more like fried “chicken of the woods” (a mushroom, Laetiporus sulphureus—-yes, I had to Google that mushroom’s name)

As it was finishing, the man walks through my front door without even knocking! I made a mental note to start keeping that door locked. He had known where I lived, because earlier in the dream, my odd residence was a huge discussion. And as I mentioned, this was the type of town where everyone knew who lived where.

I divvied up the cooked eggplant between us, and we had dinner while standing in my living room, discussing memories of the departed and other topics I can’t quite recall.

This is where the dream became really odd…

While eating, an ex boyfriend of mine (who I haven’t seen since I was 19) walked through the door and asked to join us. We finished eating, and then the man (no, I never remembered his name) left and the ex and I discussed all the repairs my apartment needed.

An aside—from what I can gather, I lived in a very small, partly renovated loft atop an old building on the Main Street. The main, HUGE window had some stretchy canvas instead of glass, and the floor wasn’t finished, so I could only walk on certain spots in my living room/bedroom—sort of like an unfinished attic.

That’s pretty much it—that’s my dream. My cat woke me, so she could be fed breakfast, before the dream’s plot could go any further.

Random Brain Stuff

Sometimes, my brain wanders to places throughout the day. It isn’t normal…..

I could definitely take a nap right now. But just because I can, doesn’t mean I will. Unfortunately, a hard desk doesn’t really make the best pillow. Not only that, but if I end up drooling in my sleep, it’d form a pool on my desk, and I would probably not notice it at first. Then, I’d end up sliding a paper across my desk, no doubt something of extreme importance, and it would soak up all of the spit. The document would be ruined, and I would have to explain why I needed a duplicate.
“Sorry, Boss…I drooled all over this one by accident. Could you please give me another one so I can try again?”

I have unopened, plastic utensils at my desk. There is a fork and a knife. I’m trying to remember where they came from. Most of the time, these things are packaged together. Spoon, Fork, and Knife are a family with little salt and pepper packet babies, all nestled in their plastic wrapping, alongside the soft side of a napkin.
But these utensils…the ones on my desk…they are different. They were each packaged separately. Did the plastic-ware family get a divorce? The salt and pepper packets either ran away or grew up and moved out of the home….or got eaten. Now THAT would suck….but then again, they would have died while serving their whole life’s purpose. It is just too bad they were so young….so innocent……so salty. And where the hell is the spoon?? Probably off, forking around all over town! Slutty spoon…


1. Ever have one of those days where it doesn’t matter how much coffee you drink, how much cold air blasts in your face, how many showers you take or how many jumping jacks you do, you just can’t seem to wake up? This is today.

2. I fail at eye-drops. Since I don’t feel like walking all the way to the bathroom to use the mirror, I re-wet my eyes/contacts at my desk. Unfortunately, my aim in general (with anything) is not the most stellar in the world. The first two drops generally end up rolling down my cheek, missing my eyes completely. The third drop might hit my lashes, giving me a very nice streak of mascara down my face. Finally, drops four and five are a bull’s-eye.

Then I repeat on the other side. SAME EXACT THING HAPPENS.

And there you have it; now I sit at my desk looking as if I just lost my dog and am an emotional mess, when truth be told….I just need better hand to eye coordination.

3. Stomach aches are stupid.

Liquid In Transit

It was a place I had never been before, and now that I had arrived, there was no turning back. The small door opened inward, and the first thing I noticed as I entered was the size. I imagined that if there was a closet underneath a small shelf inside of a loft apartment, that’s the amount of space that was permitted to me to do my business. I would not have messed with it, honestly, but since there were still 45 minutes until we landed at the airport in Ft. Lauderdale, and I had rapidly consumed three alcohol-beverages, no more waiting could happen.

THIS……this is what had to happen.

I was about to use the restroom in an airplane. My pee was to be scattered in the wind, high above the earth, raining down upon the unsuspecting joggers and dog-walkers!! It’s almost poetic.

(I know this isn’t really what happens, but this is how I imagine it happens, so let me have my dreams!)

As I turned around to shut and lock the door, I impassively noticed the “No Smoking” sign directly above the ash tray. A quick thought of “Oh, this plane must be old” crossed my mind, and shortly after “I wonder if older planes crash more easily than newer ones…” This thought came to me completely out of nowhere, and I banished it away as I dropped the trousers and sat to pee.

I’m not afraid of flying—I’ve never had a reason to be. The only thing I don’t like about traveling in an airplane is the lack of foot-room and the fact that the seats are difficult to fall asleep in. Turbulence had never been an issue, since I had never really experienced it…..

Until that very moment….

As soon as I sat down on the pot, the seatbelt light turned on and the pilot’s voice rang out saying that we needed to be seated and brace ourselves for a fuckin’ whirlwind of flight. (I may be paraphrasing a little bit on that.)

“What the hell do I hold onto!??”

Suddenly, I was taking a piss on a roller coaster!! I held onto the wall and searched for the toilet paper so I could escape this crazy, shaky box-room! When I glanced to my left, all I saw were Kleenex! They had to do! I pulled a couple out, wondering how they could NOT provide TP……

But then I saw it….it was BELOW me and to the left…..two glorious rolls of it!!


As I reached, more turbulence made me lurch forward. My hand hit the toilet paper as my head hit the door, and both of the rolls both came flying off from their holder!


As my entire body was still being flung up and down then side to side, I chased after the rolls along the floor, while still keeping my butt planted on the seat, because I was in no mood to have leftover pee-dribbles creep down my leg. I finally was able to procure one roll and fasten it back to its home. The other became a rogue wanderer of the bathroom floor.

After difficulty (an understatement), I finished THAT business.

Pulling up my pants was a challenge, too….since we were still being jostled about, I kept being slammed into the door while ATTEMPTING to pull up my jeans.

Let’s just say, I ended up half-way falling a couple times before I was able to wash my hands at the world’s tiniest sink! I also fell a couple times while washing my hands.

Airplane Crew, I’m sorry, I ended up flinging water spots all over the mirror…and the walls…and the door…and my FACE.

As soon as I finished and exited the restroom, the plane leveled out and the ride was completely smooth.


I stood there, puzzled, for just a couple seconds and wondered if that whole thing was the pilot’s version of a joke.

I’m assuming, “YES”.

Saturday’s Dreaded Lists #leahwouldblog

It has been a rough day for many people today, and in particular, two of my friends.  I debated on whether or not I should post a blog, because I thought that, perhaps, it could be deemed inappropriate.  I mean, how dare I find something to laugh about on a day full of sadness??  But then, it occurred to me—-wouldn’t a day that has so much gloom in it be the MOST IMPORTANT time to find a little laughter?  I say, YES.  And I hope that this elicits at least a small smile, even if today has been horrible.


I remember, as a small child, thinking to myself, “I can’t wait to grow up, because then I won’t have so many chores!”  Ha! 

When I was around  7-8 years old, my mother began giving lists of chores to me and my siblings every Saturday morning (which had to be completed by noon, when she arrived back home from work), plus we had our regular weekly chores.  As an adult, I would probably look at these same lists and chuckle, because I would now know that the WHOLE array of tasks could probably be completed thoroughly in just an hour or so…at MOST. But as a child……..

I can somewhat recall some thoughts that went through my head as soon I read the dreaded list that had been posted on the refrigerator…and the continuing thoughts throughout those mornings……

-“What the Fudge???  How did I get put on LAUNDRY duty again!!!?? I HATE LAUNDRY!!!  I’ll skip it for now.”

-“I’m pretty sure my bathroom doesn’t really need to be cleaned.  Look at it!! I would definitely be willing to eat off that floor!  I mean…I would surely eat off a plate on a placemat on top of a table on that floor!  That orange stuff? Pffsh…I think my tile is just the color-changing kind.  It is FINE.  Here…if I shut the door, NO ONE will even know that I skipped that chore.”  (I would shut the door..stand there thinking about it for five minutes..re-open the door…..and then spray some old perfume in the air and re-shut the door.) ” THERE!  Now, I’m done.”  (Sorry, Mom.  I think I actually did that a few times.)

-“Clean my room?  I thought it WAS clean.”  (There would be some books on the floor…and stuffed animals…and probably a few My Little Pony horses…and at least 10-15 MORE stuffed animals.)  “Oh THAT stuff??  No problem!!”  (As I shoved them all into the corner of my room.)  “There’s the floor!! Perfect!!” (‘The floor’ when you’re a kid is merely a 5×5 foot square that is clear of debris.)

I’d pull a few toys back out…they would have an adventure for 20 minutes….or an hour, depending on which of them needed rescued…and whether or not the stuffed puppies were granted powers to fly.

Then, I’d see that a favorite Saturday cartoon was on, and I’d spend the entire 30 minutes watching the cartoon while “dusting” the family room.

-“Wait…Can I just use this wood polish on the glass parts of the table, too?  Well sure I can!!! Those streaks will blend out when enough people have put their hands on the table….right?…oh look! My favorite commercial!” (Dust rag is left on the table.)

Another hour has passed.

-“Dishes are stupid!  Why are we out of paper plates?  WHO ATE ALL OF MY FAVORITE CEREAL?? I wanted a third bowl of it!  Ewwwwwwwww DISHES are GROSS!!!”

-“Why can’t we have a normal vacuum?” (We had a Rainbow, which worked REALLY well, but consisted of two parts: The head on the hose that you pushed around the floor, and the motor with the tank of water that you dragged behind yourself.)  To vacuum the stairs required the skills of an acrobat.  “I hope this thing works on Legos……Aaaahhhh!! I dropped the vacuum’s motor and tank down the stairs!!!  Stop it! Someone stop it!!! LOOK OUT!!!!!”

When it came to laundry, a load consisted of ALL clothing that could be STUFFED into the washer. With a family of six, one can imagine how much the dirty hamper accrued in a week.  There were two types of loads.  The “white load” and the “everything else” loads.

-“Why the hell are there so many socks?? Who decided a ‘white load’ was legal!  There ARE NO MATCHES!!”  (I would stand and stare at the offensive load of laundry for 10 minutes before folding one item, and then I’d begin staring again, completely overwhelmed and deciding that it was more important that I find what “shapes” could be seen in the different, haphazardly placed clothing, as if it was a giant Rorschach test.) “Oh look!  A white elephant!  It’s holding a sock!”

After about 4-5 hours of working ‘diligently’, it would be time for my mother to return home from work.   I would hear the garage door opening, and at that moment, it was like I was injected with adrenaline! Suddenly, I was folding everything at lightning speed!!  Matching or not, those socks were being stuck together!  And by the time Mom walked through the door, I was “done” with my chores.

Today…Just Today… #leahwouldblog

Today technically began at midnight, and so did my day….sort of. 

Last night, I went to bed around 11:00pm with full intentions of awaking at 4:30, going to the fitness room to jog intervals with Heather, and then to yoga.  Unfortunately, I awoke at about midnight.  Why? No clue. 

Then again around 1:30am.  AND AGAIN, I have no idea why. 

Then at 3:00am, I awoke to find the clock and see that I still had an hour and a half left to “sleep”. 

When 4:30 finally rolled around, I elected to just remain in bed, and it was THEN that I finally fell into deep sleep. 


Needless to say (and yah, I’m saying it anyways), my brain is not at its optimal potential today.  I’m assuming this is why I tried to leave the house without shoes this morning. 

I began walking down the stairs to the garage, purse/lunch/backpack in tow, and just then did I realize that my feet were touching carpet, and I was not as tall as usual. (I wear heels every day.) 

Then, for a brief moment, I actually considered leaving, with that quick thought of, “Do I really NEED shoes at work anyways?”.  Of course, I can’t go to work barefoot, but my slow-for-the-day brain wanted to just walk out the door, because it didn’t want to admit that it forgot something so simple! 


Luckily….I have coffee at work.  :)

A Lesson in Lunch #leahwouldblog

On a normal workday, my lunch-break is spent in the fitness room.  Today, however, it was spent alone at Minsky’s, wolfing down a cheeseburger and chugging iced tea.  I suppose that’s a perk of having a foot that hurts too much to try to do cardio class.

Regrettable?  Maybe…

But it DID spur on a CHERISHED memory–the first time I ate alone during a lunch-break…

It was in the beginning of my entrance into the delightful necessary world of working full-time; I was 16 years old, and the second semester of the school year had ended.  I had been working as a teller at the Bank of Lee’s Summit since that previous December. 

Most days, I packed my lunch and ate it in the security of the bank’s kitchen.  The day finally came, however, that I decided I would be more “like an adult” and venture out to a restaurant for my lunch.  Since I hadn’t been driving very long, you see, I was not the most adventurous person when it came to driving unfamiliar places.  Plus, it was hot out that day, and my car at the time had no air conditioning.  But now I’m just making excuses for my past self…

So, I clocked out for lunch and strolled my on-a-mission butt to my hot-as-an-oven Honda, and set off to find a glorious plate of sustenance.  Of the many choices in the restaurant world, you KNOW I was going to only pick the most classy place in existence!!

FAZOLI’S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, I was 16…..LIKE I KNEW what CLASS was in the restaurant world!!!  I thought fast-food Italian was GENIUS…….  Plus, they offered unlimited buttery breadsticks!!!  And this was back in the day where they had people walking around with BASKETS FULL of those little salty treasures!!!  YOU COULD EAT TEN OF THEM WITHOUT JUDGEMENT!!!! 

I ordered a plate that included three of the restaurant’s specialties, a portion of this food being lasagna.  I triumphantly picked up my plastic fork, and immediately dug in to the saucy, meaty goodness.  As my fork carried the first bite to my famished mouth, gravity decided to play a joke on me, and PULLED the food off the fork, then thwarted it DIRECTLY at MY BOOBS!!! 

But pffffshhh……. did I panic?  …..



FUCK YES, I DID!!!!!  I was NOT ready for this adult situation!!!!!  To make matters worse, I was wearing a white dress!!  I immediately grabbed ALL the napkins on the table, and begin dipping them into my glass of ice-water, and then frantically patting away the red sauce that then adorned my breasticles.  The mark of the SCARLET SAUCE must be removed!!!!!!!

After a frantic five minutes, I didn’t see any trace of the sauce on my dress.  I breathed a sigh of relief…I had done it.  I won.  Gravity had NOTHIN’ on me!!  I finished my meal with no more haphazard bites, and with a smile on my face that said, “I have conquered my lunch…ALL of you people SHOULD be FULL of AWE and WONDER!”  (Okay, so no one even noticed my debacle, to my knowledge, but in the first moments of sauce-falling, I felt as if ALL eyes were on me.)

I returned to the bank for the remainder of my full-time, barely-above-minimum-wage job, continuing to grin like an idiot.  Victory was glittering in my eyes as I helped all my lobby customers with the utmost confidence!!!  For those next couple hours, all was right with the world…

until I went to the bathroom.

Here’s the thing about wiping off your boobs at a restaurant table instead of in the bathroom….from the vantage point of my face, I can’t see directly under my boob.  And THAT, my friends, is the EXACT place that some lasagna meat sauce had decided to hibernate.

Don’t wear white to work.  IF you do, DON’T eat Italian food from a plastic fork.  Lesson learned.

Fill up MY Boot-mug!! #leahwouldblog

I am writing about cool, crisp H2O, and don’t like the first two sentences.  Immediately after writing them, and then holding down the backspace button, I find that I am SO THIRSTY for ice water. 

**Walks to kitchen for water**

**Attempts to pour water from Brita pitcher….lid falls off.**

**Cleans water off floor with paper towels, shoos away cat, slips on remaining water, lies there thinking about how thirst still clings to roof of mouth.**

(These things may or may not have occurred only in my imagination.)


On a normal week-day at work, when sitting at my desk, I am a mere 20 steps or so away from the break room.  Within that room lies the source of happiness for my water bottle–the water cooler/dispenser.  Let’s call it Norma Jean.  A typical trip to the break-room for water goes as follows:

Stand up from chair in heels without falling.

Take two steps left, then two steps forward, then do the hokey poky….(Not really, but now I’m considering doing this tomorrow, just to see who will join me.)

Walk the aforementioned 20 or so steps to the break-room.

Turn myself around to walk back to desk and grab water bottle that was forgotten the first time. (a-HA! I KNEW the hokey poky was truly involved in this process somewhere!)

Walk the 20 or so steps to the break-room….again.

At this point, someone else has made their way to Norma Jean….with a mug that could probably hold your grandmother’s head in it(only if it was disconnected from the body…but that’s morbid…let’s say it’s just a giant boot capacity cup instead).

So someone is standing at the water-cooler with their giant head/boot-sized mug, and holding the button for the ice-cold water.  (Side note:  There IS a button for room temperature water, but who the hell actually WANTS to drink water that is room-temp??  Pretty sure I’ve NEVER heard someone say, “Oh MAN, I am SO parched!! I could TRULY go for a less-than-satisfying glass of tepidness!!”)  But I digress…

Stand there for at least 5 minutes.

Boot-mug is half full.

The person with the offending cup smiles sweetly at me and shrugs.

What can I do but shrug back and then stare at Norma Jean….WILLING IT TO MOVE THE WATER FASTER OUT OF ITS STUPID, SNEERING SPOUT!!!?

At this point, patience wears thin, and I look at the beverage refrigerator, where there is offered a thirst-quenching alternative: bottled water.  A quick glance up to the gargantuan mug still sucking water into itself confirms that I WILL be standing there awhile longer.

Take two steps to the left, open fridge, and peer at the contents…or lack thereof.  EVERY other day, there is bottled water in the refrigerator, but today, this is not the case.

As the door of the fridge swings slowly shut, the puzzled look on my face changes to a look of momentary glee when I see that the boot-mug is gone!!  My heart leaps for joy…but Is quickly thrown back down past my throat and into my gut as someone from the other entrance of the break-room, the doorway closer to the water dispenser, has entered and taken their place in front of it.

Discouraged, down-trodden, and above all, thirsty, I meander back to my desk. 


This week, something happened to the dispenser.  It’s lines perhaps were re-routed…or maybe just the amount of water pressure was increased.  But NOW, when filling something with water, IT STREAMS OUT LIKE A ROCKET!!!!!  It takes everything in mE not to jump up and down with laughter while filling my water bottle IN FIVE SECONDS FLAT!

I’m pretty sure that EVERYONE else in the office also does this happy jig in their heads now when pressing down that cold-water button.


Click Click Click #LeahWouldBlog

Last night, I went out to dinner and drinks with Heather.  As usual, it was a fabulous time!  At some point in our random conversations, however, it came out that I have never seen the movie Predator.  Apparently this is considered tragic, and it was decided that I should watch it for our next “girls’ night”.  Something I did learn about the movie through our limited discussion of it was that the Predator makes some sort of clicky sound.  Heather ASSURED me that it was freaky, but to me, it just sounded funny.

“Clickly click click, look at me! I’m a mean, badass predator. Doopy doopy doooo. Ladeeedah!!!! Clicky clickly click!!!”  (This is the part where I imagine the Predator skipping through a field of daisies, singing to itself, and twirling around amongst the flowers.)

Then this morning, I come into work and begin my day as usual.  I am checking emails, when I see that Heather has sent me something.  The Subject says “Click click click”, and it being morning, it does not even DAWN on me what this is in regards to!  So, I open it.  And there it was!! A gigantic picture of the predator, and yes, it made me jump a little!!  Then laugh!  I still haven’t decided if that click will be freaky when I DO watch the movie, but the clicks did make me jump this morning. Ha ha!

Just Plain Weird #leahwouldramble

Last night, I had the oddest dream.  I realize I probably say that about my dreams every time I write about them, but they do seem stranger with each one.   Now before you read this, keep in mind that it makes almost NO sense, and it’s pretty creepy.  Obviously, it seemed a lot scarier to me while having it, compared to after, and writing it down now will probably make it seem pretty disjointed. 

It begins with me taking a walk down a neighborhood road.   I was on my way to visit a friend at his house.  It was a friend from school (because, apparently I was in high school or something in this dream), and I have no idea who this person is in real life.  It’s not someone who exists that I know of, and I cannot even remember his name in the dream.  Everything seemed normal at this point.

 When I walk in to the small home, I notice that the place is a mess.  There is a baby in a high chair, eating something mushy that I can’t recognize, clothes all over the living room and kitchen, plus it’s extremely dark and dusty.  There is a woman sitting on the arm of the couch, in front of the baby, and she just looks at me, but says nothing.  I am assuming this was my “friend”’s mother.  Suddenly, HE is gone—the friend vanished while I wasn’t paying attention!  I am left with only this woman in front of the baby, and some other family members sitting on the couch amongst the garbage, staring straight ahead and not acknowledging me whatsoever.  I can already tell by her distant eyes that the mother was a TOTAL nut job, and I am talking PSYCHOTIC. 

I turn to leave, but the door won’t open.  Somehow, I have become locked in this house.  I glance around the small room, and that is when the real eeriness begins.  I begin to HEAR a crunching sound, when before everything had been COMPLETELY SILENT.  (I always find it odd that I can hear, smell, taste, and see colors in my dreams.  I’m not sure if that happens with everyone, but these are the dreams that feel so real!!)

I follow the sound, and it leads my eyes to the woman.  She is chewing on something hard, and it takes me a moment to realize that she has broken her own jaw with her bare hands, and is somehow chewing and eating it.  YES…eating herself—her own mouth!!!  I am FREAKED out now, and begin searching the house for a phone.  I have no cell phone!!  SOMEONE needs to call the police!  The rest of the house is small and just as dark and dirty as the living room I first walked into.  I find a phone, but it has no signal.  I feel an urgency to save the baby…it is the only part of the family that MIGHT be normal. 

When I sneak back through the living room timidly, even though I have been seemingly invisible this entire time, I see that the woman has a jaw intact again, BUT she has somehow stabbed her head with pencils, and isn’t even bleeding!!  She looks like “The Hellraiser”, but with No 2 pencils!!  (Now THIS visual, talking about it afterwards, could actually be deemed somewhat comical…but only AFTER the fact!  During dream mode, my heart was pounding.) 

 Scared senseless, I find my way out of the back door and onto the porch, where the neighborhood that USED to be there has transformed into a giant ravine with a bunch of bluffs.  There are no stairs off the porch, and the distance when I look straight down seems to be endless!  Not only THAT, but there’s a war raging…a battle that wasn’t happening when I walked into the house, but looked like it’d been going on for days!


Not just any battle…it was a fight between FOODS!  And these foods were not of normal size…they were as big as me!!  Giant potato peels were battling a bunch of almonds and soybeans!! They were shelling them, and coiling around them like snakes, dragging them off to who-knows-where!  Screams surrounded me, and I began to get dizzy….and then I FALL!!!!!!!

At that point, I awoke….and felt BEYOND confused.

I’m not crazy—I swear………..but my dreams ARE.

A Win Against Evil #leahwouldramble

I CONQUERED!!!  (kinda)

Last night, my husband was giving me the “puppy dog eyes” for SOME sort of dessert.  Of course, since I’m attempting a clean eating challenge at the moment, my grocery lists have not included the delicious delicacies of the excess-sugar goodness that is treats.  In other words, there are no easily accessible cookies or ice cream or anything for him to munch on, should the desire arise.  HOWEVER, I found a cookie mix in the pantry that I’d bought a couple months ago.  So, I decided to appease Shannon, because, of course, I love to keep him happy!

And so the battle began, as I mixed the ingredients in a bowl, and its heavenly scent wafted into my nostrils.  If I could survive, or at least find contentment, by eating air, I would have eaten ALL of the cookie dough fragrance!  The temptation of one of my favorite sorts of sweets was SO GREAT! 

But, I told myself as I pulled the mix out of the cabinet that I would NOT give in to it!  For a moment, I WAS weak.  As I spooned the dough into small heaps on the cookie sheet, an automatic reflex to bite the remaining dough from the spoon took over!!!  It’s like my arm, along with the spoon, had a mind of its own, and the utensil was the evil center of its brain! It lunged forward without warning, and went RIGHT into my mouth!!  The first swing of the sword had been swung!!  The evil side of the battle STARTED this fight! 

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, I screamed (inside my head).

As SOON as the dough hit my tongue, I knew I was in trouble!  But instead of admitting defeat, I ran to the sink and SPIT THE OFFENDER OUT! 

I realize that sugar starts to digest the moment it hits your saliva (This is definitely true—it’s science!), but I’m hoping a mere second in my mouth won’t have counted for too much!  I still count it a win! A victory!  A TRIUMPH OVER COOKIE DOUGH!!!!

And to continue my winning spree, I chose NOT to indulge in any of the baked cookies either, no matter how GOOD they smelled!  They are the ENEMY.

(Insert overly-dramatic music here.)

An Unlikely Pet #leahwouldramble


My attempt at being girly has been thwarted.  You see, at approximately 7:56am this morning, I applied glittery, plumping gloss to my lips.  I knew that I would, soon after, be consuming a Zero Ultra Monster energy beverage.  There was no way I was going to miss out on THAT deliciousness!  To detour my glittery gloss from ending up on my energy-filled can, I grabbed a straw from the kitchen to use. 

Keep in mind that the only straws that can be found in the office kitchen are of the coffee-stir variety.  I am not even completely sure they would be considered straws in a community of straws.  In fact, I assume that if straws had their own world, these would be considered pets, therefore not necessarily doing the job of a straw, but serving a smaller, albeit meaningful, purpose (stirring the beverage that a REAL straw might be used for).  At this point, you have my apologies for my small digress.

So then I am drinking my Monster with a stir/straw, and am so proud of my wily effort of being girly that I set my can down for a moment and email Heather to tell her of my victorious feelings!  Due to the height of the can, and the lack of major carbonation, the straw sinks into the mouth-hole without me immediately noticing.  I reach for the drink to take another lovely sip, and Alas!  There is no straw!! “What happened?  Did I inadvertently take it out and set its sticky little body on my desk??  Why would I do that???”  I have a total of 5-10 seconds of searching around before it dawns on me where the straw REALLY is.  So now, with each gulp, I hold the risk of being choked and/or stabbed in the throat by a wannabe straw aka straw-pet.

“Girly” turned to “Dangerous”, and I’m completely fine with it.

Wonka Fat Rolls! #leahwouldramble

This morning, I think I would equate how I feel physically to the girl named Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, after she eats that gum that turns her into the giant blueberry, minus the blue hue, of course.  Also, I did not chew on a Roast Beef and Mashed Potatoes and blueberry pie-flavored gum, but rather, a large portion of Chinese food.  This was my indulgence last night, and it basically meant that I gave the food permission to impregnate me with a salt-baby.  Awaking at 4am and literally drinking 20 ounces of water in one sitting did not even sway the bloating powers of the sodium ocean inside me!  I am sure the fact that this morning was the first workout I have had in six days didn’t help with my feelings of fatness!

It’s a good thing that every day is a new today, and today, regardless of all my salt I need to slough away, I am feeling good!  I’m feeling better than I have in days, mentally and emotionally!  (It’s amazing what a workout can do for one’s well-being.)  So bring on the day, Tuesday!!  As long as you don’t try to offer me a Chinese-meal-flavored gum, I am IN THE CLEAR! :)

Blips #leahwouldramble 7-2-13

Random Thoughts of This Tubular Tuesday

  • “Used out of necessity,      under protest” ß      This is my favorite phrase that I’ve ever seen stamped on a five-dollar      bill.
  • I tried looking up      synonyms through a Word document to see if any existed for “Tubular”.  There were “no suggestions”.
  • I was a steady tree in      yoga this morning…most days, I am a wobbly one!  It must have been less windy in my      brain.
  • I think that having my      boob itch (My shirt is currently causing this discomfort.) is the      equivalent of when a guy’s junk needs to be rearranged.  I’m not exactly comfortable just groping      and clawing at my breast to fix the problem out in the open.  So if you see me heading to the restroom      often, it’s actually NOT to pee, but to tug at my shirt, rub on my boob      and say, “UGH” in frustration, until I can change into a new,      non-itchy-seam shirt! 

*wriggles in chair* ßNope! Didn’t work. UGH!

  • Sometimes, I wonder about      little improbable scenarios…like, what if I went to sleep, and then didn’t      wake up until I was 60?? Who would be there?  What will I have missed?? What a scary      thought!!!!  Then I revert back to      others scenarios like, what if I acquired superpowers?   Now THAT would be pretty sweet! I think…
  • Ahhhhhhh….the vicious and      delicious bread smell is back again!! DANG IT, TINA!!! Why must you cook      delicious smelling lunches?? Just to torture me!! I KNOW IT!!!!!
  • It is magnificently hot      outside!!  So hot, in fact, that at      the end of the workout, my eyes stung with a mixture of sweat, melting      mascara, and sun-block.  TOTALLY      WORTH IT.  I have to say, though,      that I’m pretty sure it’s a torture tactic for the trainer to pick a spot      to work-out in the heat…NEXT TO A POOL.       I will JUMP into that thing fully clothed next time, Sucka!!!!!!!
  • If I choke down ONE more      carrot today, I might go flippin’ crazy!!!       And I mean INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE ‘cause CRAZY CARROTS!!      AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!  (Oh Shit…it’s      already started.)


Three Things… #leahwouldramble


One of the scariest moments is that “Snap out of it/wake up; How did I get here?” moments!  Pretty sure I experienced nine or ten of them just this morning…while driving.  I snap into reality, and “OH! Curb!”…then swerve to miss it…..drift off…snap back, “Yikes! Yellow lines!”…swerve…drift…and so on and so on….nothing could wake me up while driving!!  It was awful!

  I blame Monday.



Ever notice that when you start to choke on something, you get a sudden hot flash?  I’m assuming this is some kind of defense mechanism.  I only mention it because I tried to choke on carrot pieces a few minutes ago.



As a little girl growing up, it took a little while for me to get into the habit of checking the toilet paper roll before sitting onto the porcelain throne and doing my business.  Rarely do I make this mistake at my age now, but back then, there were a few times that created enough grief to cause this habit to generate itself.  A few general instances:

The “Two-Square Dilemma”:  This is where you’re done letting the trickle out, and when you look at where the toilet paper SHOULD be, you find a mere 2-3 squares of the stuff at your disposal.  When I first experienced this, it was the first time in my life I took an interest in origami.  You can just IMAGINE the “swans” I had to fold in order to finish  my restroom experience!

The “Roll’s Demise”:    This little gem is where there are not even 2-3 squares of paper to work with! Again, after the inevitable trickle of little-girl pee, a glance at the spot for TP has now created a cause for alarm.   I will admit now that this was a desperate time for me, as a child, to have to endure.  I did what was necessary.  Yes.  I used the cardboard.  It is surprisingly more absorbent than one may assume.  (I now try to keep Kleenex at our toilet at home so that my step-daughter will not chance ever needing to experience this.)

The “Lost Not Found”: This is where you look at the toilet paper roll’s home, and find that the entire roll, paper and cardboard included, has vanished into mid-air!  Or perhaps it ran away out of protest.  (I wouldn’t blame it if it did, because honestly…would you want to stick around if you KNEW people were merely going to rub piss/shit on you?)  AT this point, if you can’t holler to anyone nearby, you’re fucked.  You might as well get used to the fact that you’re going to be bouncing on the seat to let any loose liquid fall, and then walk with your pants around your ankles, butt up in the air, to the nearest place where TP can be found. (I sincerely hope that where it can be found at this point isn’t the store!)