I won’t be posting over here anymore, so please update your readers or bookmarks to…

www.thebarnmouse.com

Awesome.

I’m still changing a few things around, but it’s mostly done.  Also, all my posts and stuff have been transferred, so it’s all good.  Hee.

I may have mentioned (twelve times or so) that I’m going to a baby shower later in the month.  I realized a few days ago that uh oh, the sweater I was planning to wear doesn’t go with black pants.  Crap.  So I ventured out to Old Navy today because I’m addicted to their store I needed to look presentable without looking like I’m 45.  I only wish I had found our Old Navy store years ago before I built up the large collection of clothes that just aren’t me.

Anyway, I went to Old Navy for a sweater.  I walked out with 2 t-shirts that were on clearance (y’all, I can’t pass up a clearance on soft t-shirts), a pretty little short sleeve top for spring or summer (I have no comment on this other than it was on sale and it’s pretty), a pair of pants (also on sale! and yes, I was planning on wearing black pants, hence the need to go to the store in the first damn place, and no, these pants are not black, but they are neat and well….so there.), a nightgown (do I have to say it?  on sale!  Also, pretty pink!  And not all weird and old like my other ones!), and a top to go with the pants to wear to the baby shower (not on sale! omg).  The top, I love.  It’s this pretty kind of burgundy color with a big scoop neck but a ribbon-tie thing on the back.  I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve seen them before and have always liked them. 

So I get home, and something happened that has absolutely never happened before.  Everything FIT and I actually LOVED everything!  The burgundy top was the last thing I tried on (with the pants) and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  Turns out, I didn’t pay attention to the actual shirt I bought, I just looked for my size and grabbed the hanger and off I went.  The damn ribbon/tie thingy was tied together and hanging off one side.  Crap.

I had the absolute worst time getting out of that damn shopping center.  I think it was “old person who found the keys to their kid’s car” day, because I’m pretty sure at least all most several of those people were NOT supposed to be behind the wheel of a car.

So I didn’t go back.  I mean, I’m going to.  But I didn’t.  I do not sew.  I mean, we have a needle and some thread, but other than that, I’m pretty much clueless as to what to do with them.  I probably won’t go back tomorrow either.  These two shopping centers that we have here (one a mall, the other a huge “strip mall” of sorts, but it’s actually got three sides) are about a mile away from each other so that section of town gets incredibly busy on the weekends.  We try to avoid it at all costs.  I’m not sure what happened to me today, but I just decided that I’d go brave the crowds and the stupid people  That won’t be happening again for a long time.

I told you I didn’t do anything today.

Same Slippers, Different Day.

Blah.

So this week’s Things on the Road Thursday is your favorite part of your car.  “My car?” I hear you ask.  “I thought this was Things on the ROAD.” I hear you ask again.  Well what’s on the road?  Your car, of course!

My very favorite part of my Jeep Liberty is:

My door handle. Yes.  I know.  I know!  It’s a silly thing to love so much.  But it’s great!  And even better, every time I drive my mom around she can’t find the door handle to get out.  It’s hilarious. 

I’ve seen pictures of the interior on the new Liberties (OMG SO MUCH AWESUM!) and they have done away with my precious door handles.  The bastards.

So what’s your favorite part of your car?  Did you play?

And also, since I am sick and whiney and there’s no one else here to complain to…

My kitty slippers, let me show you them:

Kitty slippers say “Please, make her stop talking to us!”

To the 50-ish guy with the comb-over and the Notre Dame sweatshirt talking on a cell phone while on the treadmill beside me,

Either get off the phone, or talk louder so that I can hear you and can stop straining.  I am blonde and therefore can only concentrate on one thing at a time.  At the moment, that one thing is not flying off the back of the treadmill.

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To the asshat in the Carolina t-shirt on the eliptical behind me,

There is a whole wall of glass in front of me and it’s dark outside.  I CAN SEE YOU.  Please wipe that creepy, toothy grin off your face or stop staring at me.  Again.  I CAN SEE YOU.  I am fully aware of my bra’s shortcomings and will absolutely never wear it to work out in again.  By the way, Duke is gonna kick Carolina’s ass tonight.  (I seriously felt like telling him that when he walked behind me, but I was gasping for air at the time and it probably wouldn’t have come out right.)  Oh, and piss off!

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Which brings me….

To my bra,

Stop it!  I hate you.  Enjoy your new life inside my trash can.

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Say, are there any website designers out there looking to do some pro bono work?  Or how about some pro “bone” o work?  I can pay you in dog treats!   Or cookies.  I make a mean Chicken Kiev.  I just can’t look at any more stuff I don’t understand.  Which at this point, is just about everything.

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Oh!  I nearly forgot to mention!  I jogged 20 minutes today!  TWENTY MINUTES!!!  YAY!!!  I’d like to give a special shout out to Beyonce and ‘the gals’ for their song Survivor which had the absolute perfect rhythm for the speed at which I was jogging.  And it’s a pretty damn good song as well.  I didn’t even mind listening to it four times as I tried to “survive” 20 minutes of jogging.