In lieu of the customary traditional Sunday night wrap up post I’m going to offer up a strange mish mash of unrelated events that took place during this weekend and attempt to string them together without sounding as if I’ve come unglued.
Footie the sock with real emotions.
If you own a pair of socks in my house chances are that I’m wearing them right now. I have a terrible habit of grabbing my husbands work socks before he can catch me so I can run into the bathroom undetected to quickly put them on.
When his run out I go rummage through the kids clean laundry.
So imagine my surprise as I pulled on a pair of what appeared to be perfectly normal foot coverings only to see this staring back at me.
Apparently Footie, as I like to call him, is capable of changing moods depending on the time of day and how long he is worn. For the first couple of hours he appeared to be in absolute agony, but then I took off my boots later on and I think I discerned a bit of a smile.
I know you might be asking why someone would keep this sock on their foot instead of just throwing it out and finding a new one. I’m really not sure how to answer that question except to say that I found him endearing in a bizarre foot fetish kind of way. Not sure if he is the result of a botched attempt at a hand puppet or a subtle threat from my family members but I love him anyway.
Stewart Copeland has been on my mind quite a bit lately and I’m not sure why.
One of these days someone is going to look back at this guys life and declare that he would have made a great world leader. I know that I’d be a fervent advocate of his candidacy as would many like-minded folks.
If you are not yet convinced of the viability of my plan consider this – Miles Copeland could be the Secretary of State.
Consider me in.
My new moisturizer makes my eyes water but my skin glow.
This week I took the battle against dry winter skin to a new level when I broke out the thick greasy hemp moisturizer and slathered it all over my body. The smell coming from me was enough to get the whole family talking about how bizarre the combination of stale musty body odor mixed with motor oil is and how they shouldn’t be subjected to it when giving me a hug.
When I pointed out how fresh and new my glowing skin looked, they didn’t seem to care much and asked if I could go back to the product that smelled like a creamsicle . For the record that would be the combo of the French Vanilla and mandarin orange creams I usually use.
Few people are able to appreciate my struggle to get my skin to look like new baby’s ass.
So again, a series of random thoughts that were so utterly predictable they ended up being a waste of time. Who here seriously thought I would be able to connect these weekend happenings in a rare moment of lucidity?
Certainly not me.
**As a late addition to this post I’d like to reveal a bit of information I came across when doing research. Turns out my body cream is in fact heavy-duty FOOT CREAM for problem dry cracked tootsies. I’m an idiot but my skin is still glowing**