Best Christmas Present Ever

So, my loving, generous and thoughtful husband gave me a Christmas gift a little early this year. It was cheap(free,really), only something he could give and will likely last for a long time. I am sure you are just itching to know (so you can immediately go tell your husbands to get on the ball). He gave me....
A DEMON COLD FROM HADES.
That's right. He gets this little cold. He stays home from work 1 day and is peachy keen. In the meantime, his disgusting little cold germs decide they like my lungs and sinuses better and take up (seemingly permanent) residence in my nose and chest. Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. Or, maybe not.
Why is it that when he gets sick (doesn't matter with what), it is the most mild form of sickness ever, but when I get sick it's like every germ in the country found it's way to me?
There is no justice in this world. None, I tell you.

Dear Arizona Drivers,

That stuff falling from the sky is RAIN. It is NOT the apocalypse. The sky is NOT falling down. I promise. There is no need to slow down to 15 mph on the freeway. Please, trust me. You can still drive the speed limit. Or close to it. I'd settle for 50mph, but 15mph is an invitation for me to get out of my car and beat you a little bit with sticks. I am pretty sure I could catch you if I walk at a brisk pace.

On a related note: to the driver of the black Audi who thought he was 'too cool' to follow the flow of traffic. You got what you deserved. I wanted to go faster too, but I am not stupid enough to think that wanting to go fast was the same as having the power to part the traffic like Moses parted the Red Sea. If you think that you can drive 90 mph whilst weaving in and out of traffic, you deserve to spin out and hit the median when you are forced to slam on your brakes because every lane of traffic comes to a complete stop (please see memo above). I laughed at you a little bit. What an idiot.

Sincerly,
Erin

Wanted: Personal Shopper

Anyone who knows me at all knows that clothes shopping+Erin=disaster of epic proportions. I really,really dislike shopping for clothes. Several of you, dear readers, have probably been shopping with me and have discovered that I turn into Ogre Erin when I am forced to shop for clothes. So, I just don't do it. Which means I rely on others to shop for me. I'll wear pretty much anything that fits, so gifts of clothes have basically made up my wardrobe for years. Tragically, clothes wear out, and so, occassionally, I am forced to suck it up and shop. When this dreaded event happens, it follows a very clear pattern:
1. Enter store
2. Search out a display of solid color, button down shirts
3. Select 2 or 3 in the appropriate size, but different colors
4. Purchase

If I need something other than a shirt, I am basically paralyzed. Really. Example: I have 2 pairs of pants, one was a gift from my mother and one I've had for 5 years. I don't know what I'll do if one is ruined. I've tried to buy more pants, but about 5 minutes into the experience I give up. I don't even know where to start.

So, you can see why I have been in the market for a professional shopper for most of my adult life. Tragically, I have found that personal shoppers are EXPENSIVE and I don't have any money. So, the personal shopper dream had to go on the shelf, along with being a size 6 and 5'11'. Until today. Today the dream came true.

As, I have mentioned before, I work with the nicest people in the world. Funny and nice. One, the same one who thought I was a polygamist, noticed my 'uniform' of solid shirt and jeans the other day. Being something of a fashionista, she just couldn't understand my aversion to shopping. She is convinced that she can teach me how to shop and, this is the kicker, ACTUALLY ENJOY IT. She is going to take me shopping; my warnings about Ogre Erin have not swayed her. Not even in the slightest. Here are the rules for our shopping expedition, as set by Co-worker/Personal Shopper:

1. I have to actually try stuff on.
2. I am not allowed to complain.
3. I must believe Co-worker/Personal Shopper friend when she says something looks good.
4 I am not allowed to complain.
5. I must buy 1 outfit.

I tried to convince her to just go to the store and buy the clothes; I'd pay her for them and a give her cookies for her time. She launched into some, "If you give a man a fish..." shpeal.

And, so, I am about to get my very own What Not to Wear experience. I hope we can still be friends afterward...

Dear Little Burger King Man,

So, work today was pretty much crap-tacular . Like, seriously. I am sure you, Little Burger King Man, don't care for the details, so I won't share. But, just know it wasn't a great day. As I pulled into the little drive-through of your kind of ghetto Burger King,(which I normally wouldn't do, but I couldn't even think, for even one second, about actually making something to eat), I was super grumpy. I think I may have, oh, how to put this...taken my grumpiness out on you a wee bit. Or, a lot bit. But you, Little Burger King Man, would not be dragged down to my level. Oh no. You were so polite. So nice. I don't think I've heard a more sincere, "Thank you, and have a nice evening" ever. Not in my whole life. And certainly not from the poor little cashier at a fast food place. And so, Little Burger King Man, I salute you. You brightened an otherwise dismal Tuesday.

Sincerely,
Erin

P.S. Isn't the new layout for the blog ridiculously cute? Seriously.
P.P.S If I ever find the cord for the camera, I'll post pictures from our weekend with Isaac's parents. It was fantastic!