Too Much Perfection?

Last month, while on vacation, I made my way to the mainland to Apalachicola. I love the little town, with its quaint clothing shoppes, amazing restaurants, and neat little stores that stock some of the craziest things you've ever seen. If you've never been, then I highly recommend you pay the town a visit.


But I digress. While there, I meandered into a little bookshop that carried next-to-nothing. I was in search of an easy beach read because I'd already sped through all five of the currently available House of Night novels. In five days.


Instead of finding a read for myself, a children's book caught my eye. It was the cover (as is always the case with children's books) that caught my eye. On the cover was the spitting image of Harley, the newest addition to our family.






Even though the wutz was eyeballing a book with a cool dump truck emblazoned on the cover, I managed in my oh-so-persuasive manner to convince him that he absolutely had to have the book I clutched excitedly in my hand.



And so we both brought home our first introduction to SkippyJon Jones, the Siamese cat that thinks he is a Chihuahua.




The next few evenings at our beach house ended with repeated readings of SkippyJon Jones and I confess I loved every word. But I didn't realize how much until our exhausted drive home as I clutched my phone and occupied myself with Twitter, as I'm oft to do.

For whatever reason I went to tickity-type in the exclamation "Holy Fuck" over something I'd seen, but instead it came out, "Holy Fuckitos" and since that day the phrase has seemed to spread like wildfire. Okay, okay, a small brush fire. Very small.

But still.

It is a phrase that has slowly creeped into my real life vocabulary. Much to the chagrin of those in my company. I just can't help but smile and laugh every time the phrase chirps across my twitter feed, as I imagine a masked Siamese cat exclaming, "Holy Frijoles" and I realize that "Holy Fuckitos" is so much more amusing and satisfying, even if I can't read it to my three year old.

Last night, my DH and I went to Pockets in Tallahassee at the invitation of @LesleeHorner to meet her and listen to her husband's band, Spatial K. We arrived at 9:30 and took a seat as we noticed that the band was already playing. The next thing I noticed was that they were really good. Which, I have to admit, was a fucking relief. How do you tell someone you are meeting that her husband's band sucks? Well, okay, I know the answer to that: You don't. But the GREAT thing was, I didn't have to. They were awesome. One of the best cover bands I've ever had the pleasure of listening to. And I've seen a lot of cover bands in my time. Yeah, yeah, okay, it was a long time ago, but whatever. They were good. Trust me. And go check them out.

A bit after 10pm, Leslee and her friend arrived. DH spotted her before I did. It was very nice to finally meet someone I met via twitter and have been tweeting with for months. I'm also very happy to announce that she (and her great friend) were very cool and it made for a quite enjoyable evening. Meeting up in a bar with a band playing really doesn't lend to fluid conversation, but that didn't matter. I still had a blast. And the bar even served Yuengling, which you, my dear reader, already know is enough to make me a very happy woman.

The one terrible thing about meeting an internet friend in real life is that I am stone cold aware of the fact that I am definitely not as cool in real life as I seem to come across online. Okay, I don't even think I'm that cool online, but at least here I can self-edit. In real life I am missing that feature. Totally. So, the realization is that I know I am totally disappointing the person I am meeting. I'm so uncool it is painful. I often feel socially inept. So, I am sorry, dear Leslee, but I know that my secret is out. I hope you had fun anyways, though! I know I did.

I have to confess though, not only am i totally uncool, I'm also old. We finally got home well after 3am and I have to be honest, the last time I saw 3am it was only for a bleary eyed breastfeeding session with a hungry infant. I'd completely forgotten what 3am feels like. And likewise, I'd forgotten what the morning after a 3am felt like. And let me tell you, in case you've forgotten, too: It fucking sucks.

However, it was a small price to pay for such a fun evening. It made me miss my club-hopping days, that's for certain. And the resilience of my youth that allowed for those days!

Ahhh to be young again...

My eyes are open wide, by the way
I made it through the day.
I watch the world outside, by the way
I'm leaving out today.
I just saw Hailey's Comet she waved
Said, "why are you always running in place?
Even the man in the moon disappeared
somewhere in the stratosphere."

Tell my mother, tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life
I hope they understand.
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.

Please don't cry one tear for me
I'm not afraid of what I have to say.
This is my one and only voice
so listen close, it's only for today.
I just saw Hailey's Comet she waved,
Said, "why are you always running in place?
Even the man in the moon disappeared
somewhere in the stratosphere."

Tell my mother, tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life
I hope they understand.
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.

Here is my chance
This is my chance!

Tell my mother, tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life
I hope they understand.
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance,
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance,
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.

Here are a few photos of the wutz from the beach trip last week. Once I recover I'll post more and go into further detail, but I'm going to be a lazy ass until I feel I'm back to normal, which could be... uhhhh... never.