Selena's puppy ate some rocks.

The hottest breaking news this week? Selena Gomez's puppy ate some rocks, y'all.

Whomp, whomp.

I'm one of the biggest animal lovers you'll ever meet and I hope the little guy pulls through his rock-removal surgery, but I just have to ask--WHY is this top news? This is kinda like the time J-Biebs got a haircut and it made front page news.

Guess I should get a more reliable news source than Perez Hilton.

What the hell is an 'awl?'

I am one proud lady today, kids. I successfully hung shelves and towel rods in our bathroom.

The house is solely K's (he owned it before we met), so since I moved in I've treaded lightly in my redecorating. I didn't want to move in and tear everything apart. (I already had one Pougar and 4 giant carebears with me--that's enough to drive anyone crazy.)

This week, I ordered shelves for our bathroom all on my own. They got here, I assembled them myself and I was SUPER fucking excited to put them up. Then I freaked. I panicked and decided to wait until K got home. I was afraid of putting holes in the walls, and I didn't want to hang things crookedly, because if anyone would notice--it's him.

After staring at the assembled shelves on the floor for two days, I got BRAVE. I said fuck it, marched upstairs with my tools and stood in the middle of the bathroom with my hands on my hips. The shelves came with these little plastic anchor thingys which I had no idea how to put in the wall. So I googled that shit. Thanks, naturalhandyman.com.

Once I figured out what the hell an 'awl' is, I took a deep breath and pounded the first nail into the wall. Two hours (and two cramped hamstrings) later, we have SHELVES!

Look at me, using tools and shit.  I'll be building houses in NO TIME.

Hold the fucking door, please.

I was raised in the midwest. With manners. Napkin-in-your-lap, please-and-thank-you, the whole nine. I even attended a Miss Manners seminar when I was 12. It was the longest and most horrific day of my life. The only thing I remember from it is the rhyme to remember how to eat soup: "little ships go out to sea, only to return to me." Good thing I've carried THAT with me and don't eat like a tyrranosaurus.

But I digress.

This may be why, when a lady failed to hold the door open for me the other day, I screamed after her: "THANKS FOR HOLDING THE DOOR!" And exhaled a silent "BITCH" under my breath. I might have been angry, but I wasn't about to get into a Jerry Springer brawl at a rest stop.

But seriously?? I hold the door open for EVERYONE. Even if it's an awkward couple of steps before they even REACH the door. Men, women, children, monkeys. Doesn't matter. I hold the door.

This particular day I was exiting the rest stop with two full drinks in both hands, a purse on one shoulder, and keys draped over my arm. This lady went through TWO sets of doors, slamming BOTH in my face. I had to kick them open like Chuck Norris after her selfish ass made it through scot-free.

I wanted to punch her square in the shnoz.

What the hell is wrong with people? Didn't your mother teach you ANYTHING?

Ya'll lookin like SNACKS.

"Giiiiirls, ya'll lookin GOOD. Ya'll lookin like SNACKS."

I've been out of the dating game awhile, it seems. Because it appears that this is the line young gentlemen use to woo potential female suitors these days.

I was walking down the street with my girlfriends when a group of guys yelled this out at us.

Snacks? Like Twinkies? Pringles? Cheetos?

The cheese that goes CRUNCH?

I'm not sure whether it was meant as a compliment or an insult. So thanks? I think?

What the hell happened to the dating scene since I've been outtie? Or has it ALWAYS been this way, and I was too drunk to notice? I'll tell you what--I'd rather be at home watching Lifetime Original Movies ALONE than catering to someone's primal vending machine desires.

The Proposition

A guy at the bar on Saturday leaned over suggestively and whispered that if I ever wanted to leave my boyfriend, he'd be next in line. I pulled away from him quizzically, wondering if he was serious and took careful inventory of my life.

K drives me crazy sometimes. He really does. Xbox, dirty socks lying all over the house, and saying the word 'retard'... makes me want to chase him down and beat him over the head with a nerf bat.

But when I got home from our girls night yesterday and saw him standing in the driveway, I looked into his eyes and had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to full-on sprint across the driveway, jump into his arms and hug him. It's this feeling I can't describe--like a candle lit from the inside that tips over at the sight of him and warms my entire soul. It makes me glow.

After all of the heartache in my life, I never thought I'd ever feel this way about someone, and it brings tears to my eyes when I realize how incredibly lucky I am. Some days, I want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible and just breathe him in.

This man is my world. We share a home, a life. He made me believe in love again, made me trust again. He gets my jokes, he balances me out. He knows how to calm me down when I'm flipping out. And he dressed up as a giant carebear for me. He's more than my boyfriend, he's my family.

So my answer to the random stranger who propositioned me was a knowing smile and a shake of my head. He just didn't get it. And maybe he never could. There's just no room in my heart for anyone else.

Slow Motion Tango

There are moments in your life that emblazon themselves in your memory. A painful one of mine popped up unexpectedly this morning on my way to the gym, to a Taylor Swift song. I remember it so vividly: the moment I saw my ex with the other girl. My entire life came to a standstill and crumbled into pieces in front of me.

My girlfriends and I were home on Christmas break; we went out to a Canadian bar where we could legally drink. We were laughing, dancing, doing shots... I remember being intoxicatedly happy. My roommate, Kirst, spun me around the dance floor in a sloppy tango, prancing me from one end to the other. I threw my head back in laughter, and people parted ways for us to charge through.

She went to dip me, and that's when I saw them. The crowded bar seemed to dissipate, and everything began to move in slow motion. I stood frozen, still holding Kirst's hand, the look on her face revealing that she had spotted them before I had. Her eyes dropped, she clenched my hand. They were standing at the bar, he was buying her a drink. I watched him laughing and smiling at her as my heart shattered into a million, billion pieces on the floor.

For a moment, I considered charging them and throwing the drinks they had just bought, punching him and slapping her. But I couldn't bring myself to move; I was cemented in this spectatorial position.

I couldn't feel my heart; my arms were numb. I felt as if I was sinking into quicksand, watching my life crumble in front of my very eyes. And as I grabbed my coat and walked out of the bar, supported on each arm by my very best girlfriends, I took one last glance at the two of them and didn't shed one tear. He never even knew I was there.

This shit just writes itself.

Seriously people, this shit just writes itself. Saturday, before Carebear-Palooza, K and I were having a leisurely breakfast downtown. We returned home to finish decorating the front yard, when an elderly lady walked past us on the street and said "did you hear that someone robbed the bank?" We nodded; it was local news and everyone in Stars Hollow knew about it. "No," she said, "They robbed it AGAIN. Just now!"

My mouth dropped in disbelief: we were JUST having breakfast next to the bank! But more importantly... who robs the same bank TWICE? In ONE WEEK?

K: "How stupid do you have to be to rob the same bank AGAIN? These people must have serious problems."
Me: "...Or they're incredibly SMART. Because they have successfully robbed a bank 2 times without getting caught, and I have successfully robbed a bank no times. Who's the winner there?" (Granted, I'm not wanted for armed robbery, but it must have been a hell of an adventure.)

I cannot fucking WAIT to read about this in the police blotter. We are bound to be in morons in the news, AND I'm willing to bet there will be an overhaul of the Stars Hollow Police Dept, too. You can't make this shit up if you tried.