I Was Hiding Under Your Porch Because I Love You

Prepare to gag on the cuteness which I will now put before you. Up - I know you weeped into your popcorn. If you didn't, you obviously hate your parents. And the elderly. And adorably plump children. You hate your parents, the elderly, and adorably plump children if you have yet to see and/or found nothing touching about Up. And the theme song! Did it win an Oscar? You bet your happy ass it did. Da doo doo dooo - da doo doo doooo... Which reminds me that I have been meaning to download it for months. Another nod to how good I am at following through with things. *Cough*LikethisblogIhardlyeverwritein*cough* Case in point, I am pissed that the couple pictured above (kind of) thought up the idea to base their engagement photos on this movie because a) I am not engaged and b) Never would have thought to do this even if I were. Seriously, RUDE. Everyone should make a point of studying the things I like and then never coming up with great ideas that involve any of those things unless previously approved by me. Kthaaanx. In all seriousness, these pictures make me want to just sit on my bed and weep for four hours. I know nothing of this couple other than that their names are Lynnette and James, their favourite movie is Up (WHAT?) and James wrote this little love diddy to his real life Ellie:

Lynnette… I have a confession, I am in love with you. It is not the ‘usual’ love, but the love that makes me remember the little things, the ‘boring’ things. It is the boring things in life that I will remember the most. The memories of jumping over sidewalk cracks to how the clouds talk to us. You make me remember the moments. It is that love that makes me believe. Belief that I was there when you were a toothless kid. Dancing through life, only stopping to hold my hand. Letting me know that anything is possible. I am in love with you, ‘my greatest adventure’.

It's just ALL TOO MUCH, isn't it? There's obviously no point in anyone else ever getting married now. Well played, Lynette and James. Here are the rest of my personal faves (read: all of them) for you to get all fucking sappy over:

THEY EVEN RE-CREATED THE GRAPE SODA PIN. Son of a bitch. & There are actually more pictures to be found at Wildflowers Photography if you're that emotionally starved for love and affection.

You better get a dog and name it Dug and name your first born Russell, Lynnette and James. And rescue a snipe named Kevin and throw a crazy man from his own blimp full of talking dogs. Yeaaah. Yeah, MAYBE THIS WASN'T SUCH A GREAT IDEA AFTERALL, HMMMM?

Photos via WeddingChicks

Why Dontcha Do Suh'in?

Severe thunderstorm watch in effect. Oooh, looks ominous. Granted, it hasn't progressed to 'warning' yet, so I'll let this gross inaccuracy slide. I do hope it storms tonight, though. Best sleeps.

So, I will acknowledge the fact that I had previously promised to never allow real life to distract me from blogging duties for more than five days at a time but unless you want to continuously read posts such as, "Stubbed my toe today. Upsetting." then it's for the best that I hold out until I have at least a paaaaragraph's worth of useless shit to share with you. My useless life (oh, time for my meds), however, has allowed me ample (who else pictures a bosom when they hear that word?) time to write about the lives of others in my cousin Lisa's celeb gossip blog, Starcastic Beeotch. I've got a few posts under my belt over there so go, have a gander, follow it, read it, laugh, cry, rejoice. We'll refer to it as the cream filling between the chocolate cookie crusts that are my own personal posts. Delicious. Also delicious is my post about Christina Aguilera's new vid for Not Myself Tonight, which you will find there. Can't very well profess my love for her and post the song without following up with video news, now can I? Consistency, chaps. I'm made of it. Sticking to the blonde poptart (is there any other kind?) theme, I would like to share with you my discovery of 'Radio Britney.' You find this rare gemstone under Radio --> Top 40/Pop in your iTunes and then you proceed to listen to every Britney song/remix/live performance ever made of all time, forever, in history. Run, children. Run to it.

It doesn't even feel like the weekend, as I had to bring work home with me. My current employment is quickly transforming me into the most bitter of Bettys. And I do not look like a Betty, so it's lose/lose to have to be a bitter one. This transcript is due Wednesday and the only way to have it done in time is work on it over the weekend. Do I get paid an increased wage? Nope. Did my wage go up when minimum wage went up? Nope. Did I just run the entire office by myself for a week and not burn it to the ground? Sure did. (And if it had burned to the ground, it would have been nooo accident, I tell you what.) I'm praying to the baby Jesus of Winebagos that this cross-country dysfunctional family road trip of 2010 is actually going to take place. An entire summer in this town is daunting, to say the least, and if I'm to make it to Toronto (eeeee! Just peed a little bit) in one piece, I will need an out. Even if that out comes in the form of being trapped within Beula's confinements for a month+ with my family. Talk about blogging material.

I wanted to get up early and go for a walk, possibly even jog (HAHAHAHA), this morning and instead rolled out of bed at noon and didn't leave the house all day. I wonder what tomorrow will bring? Hold yer breaths.