March into April

Well, hello there, blog land! Long time no writey. In fact, it looks to my highly skilled eyeballs like I only wrote one blog post in the month of March. But here I am, writing for the second time in April. That is a DOUBLE STUFF INCREASE, my friends. So impressive. Right? So hey- let’s talk about stuff.

My life: here are some of the things.

My work life is a little bit cuckoo bananas right now. I have some new duties (DOODIES, ha ha) just for the next few months and it always takes a little short bit to catch on so I’m all what now? Where do I? Who does the thing? How is that? Delightful to my coworkers, as per usual.

Nordic Boy and I had our 5 millionth meetiversary, where we commemorated the day that I looked at him across a crowded backstage theater area and said HOMINA HOMINA and he looked at me and was all AH-OOGA. I am happy to report that our relationship is much unchanged in this regard.

To celebrate the umpteenth anniversary, we hightailed it to Portlandia. It rained a blue streak in Seattle while we traipsed around Portland without precipitation. We went to this place called the Pittock Mansion, which is kind of a Downton Abbey era place and we marveled at the fancy wallpaper and decided that people from that era really didn’t want anything to do with each other because the architecture seems to be based on a premise that no one should ever be able to interact. We spent a bunch of time at the Portland Art Museum, and then the rest of the time stuffing our faces. Eating, walking, buildings, art. Ugh, so freaking predictable.

We went to a fun dance party where I proceeded to dance for about 4 hours straight. Note to friends: ever wonder what would happen if I was given a choice between talking to you or getting my dance on? WONDER NO LONGER. I kind of didn’t talk to anyone that night, but my booty was throughly shaken. Priorities?

In other news we did our taxes. Or we got kicked in the gonads. One of those. It was hard to tell.

Did I ever tell you about my friend’s father-in-law who would pronounce things wrong all the time? Like, he would say “wiffles” instead of “waffles?” My favorite wrong thing he would sometimes say is that instead of getting the gist of things, he would say “get the jizz of it.” No one had the heart to correct him.

The month of March and the first part of April were really quite eventful. So eventful that I didn’t have time to write about any of it, so this is all you get. The jizz of it.

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