holly tried to run away saturday but she came back

mmm-hmm that’s what i said. and when she found out i was writing this entry she told me, “i want to check the facts before you post that!” no need, honey. here are the facts, everybody:

we had a nice, relaxing weekend planned. the first weekend in ages, it felt like, where we didn’t have overnight company or were traveling or had tons of household errands to do. apparently, i “ruined the weekend” by “acting like a bitch,” which is, as you know, distinctly different from actually being a bitch. and yada yada yada, all the sudden holly was like “that’s it! i don’t have to stick around for this crap. i’m going home to pee-ay!”

i’m like, fine! go home to pee-ay! and how convenient for you, since the friggin farm show’s this weekend! a few years ago, i would have been like, noooooooooo don’t goooooooo. but hell, we’ve been together over eight years, we’re married. we’re not breaking up anytime soon (read: ever). i’m thinking, heck, if you want to go home, if that’s what’s going to make you feel better, then go, b/c i’m not apologizing.

so she came downstairs w/a packed dufflebag and she left. and then i felt very sad. she called me from the road and was like, WELL? and i was like well! and we hung up. then a little while later i missed her too damn much and called her and said honey, come home. so she turned around and came home.

the rest of the weekend was good, but i kept laughing just thinking about the bag she packed.

when she came back home and i noticed it plopped on the floor near the steps, i was like, “oh, is that your little runaway bag?”

and she was like, “uh-huh.”

and i was like, “oh yeah? whad’ja pack? candy?”

and she was like, “no, flip-flops. and my bathing suit.”

ha.

here’s the bag:

holly's runaway bag, apparently packed full of flip-flops and swimsuits. i'm sure there's some candy tucked in there, too, but i haven't found it yet.

ha.

saturday and sunday night we watched movies on our rooftop deck (holly and her cousin built it. it’s huuuuuge). she is so crafty and designed, all in her head, this projector screen frame out of pvc piping. she went out to home depot friday and built it before my book club (shoutout to bookclubbers: HOLLA!) came over to watch “pride & prejudice” (the ’05 version; stop laughing) friday night. the party ended early after the screen fell over in the wind. but we bought some reinforcement pieces saturday afternoon and holly fixed it.

here she is:

holly's motto: "if you can't buy it, build it!" she cooks, too! i am totally spoiled.

we watched “i love you, man” (omG *so funny* you all must see it) and then “new in town” w/renee z. and harry connick jr. (not bad, actually! surprised myself by liking that one plus it had lots of snow it in which kind of made me feel less hot) then sunday night it was “mr. woodcock,” which was funny but really annoyed me b/c billybobjoe whatever the hell his  name is…his character (and by default, him; the whole time i kept thinking, wait, did angelina jolie really marry that guy b/c he seems like such an ass! or maybe he’s just a really good actor?? aw hell, he’s probably an ass in real life, too!) really pissed me off. i wonder what everyone else thought?

wait, who’s everyone else, you ask? well the hookers, pimps and dealers, of course! plus jerry and janet, the neighborhood drunks, bless their hearts, they’re sweet and i hope they don’t topple over into traffic one of these days, i wish i was kidding! they were like “turn it up!” (holly hooked up these old surround sound speakers we’ve had in the basement, don’t even ask me how they still work but they do) it was up pretty loud, so if they couldn’t hear it from the street then, i don’t think they’ll ever be able to. (plus i think jerry’s a little hard of hearing. we give him beers sometimes. wait, is that bad?) anyway, i think the neighborhood enjoyed the show.

ok, now i’m thinking about that bag again and i’m laughing. i keep hearing bon jovi’s very first single in my head, oooooooooooooooh she’s a little runaway. man i loved that song!

i love you, honey. i’m glad you came back home 😉

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does anyone really splash cold water on their face in public bathrooms when they’re upset?

like they do in the movies? ijs and ijw (wondering).

srsly. while i can’t name more than a couple movies that feature this at this very moment (and truly there are far too many to even name), i see it all the time.

i thought of this last night as we watched the crudely funny “my best friend’s girl” [which i recommend if you don’t get offended easily, and yes, it’s funny. and no, i would’ve never seen it if holly hadn’t grabbed it off the blockbuster shelf sat. night w/all the force of a thousand five-year-olds (“yesssss! this is the one i was telling you about!” oh she’s so cute. love you, hunny!)] and the main guy, whassis name…dane cook (who i can’t help but like after this movie even tho he made me mad in “dan in real life“) gets upset about something or other and then all the sudden, lo and behold! there he is in a restroom, splashing cold water on his face trying to knock some sense back into himself.

i don’t know about you, but when i get upset, it takes a whole lot more than a little cold water on my face to make me feel better. (sadly, i don’t drink. but coffee helps sometimes, as does fresh air or venting to poor holly until she tells me, “honey, you’re making me anxious. can you pls stop?” haha.) and hell, anyway, if you’re a woman (or a man; hey, ijs) who typically wears make-up, then you’ll be with me on the following: hell-to-the-no if i’m gonna ruin my bare escentuals with some random splash of water! and then you haveta wipe off with some crinkly, weird-smelling paper towels that leave lint and red spots–and yes, a weird odor–on your face.

i know: the movies aren’t reality. but with so many ppl in ’em splashin cold water on their faces, you’d think everyone did it. maybe they do. do you? in any case, ijn (i just noticed) and iwjtaw (i was just thinking and wondering). apu (as per usual).

[and no. we haven’t caught any mice. yet. remind me one day to tell you a real-life story i like to call “The Night of a Thousand Mice.” all true. (well, not a thousand. but a lot.) pinky swear.]