Hence, the dust bunnies on El Bloggo.
But since many of my recent communications with my family follow along the lines of, "Dude, are you dead, or did you just forget you have a blog?" I decided maybe it's time to check into my little space in the blogosphere.
So what follows is a mash up of some recent (okay, maybe kinda old) pictures that I have frankly been too spankin' lazy to post.
a. How small we humans are when compared to the massive world and ocean.
b. How lucky I am to be married to my man.
c. How on earth I plan to organize all those grill pans, fry pans, tupperware, dishes, flatware, and vases we received in out tiny apartment.
d. How to get my bowels to open up after a 9-hour flight.
Malasados. Known to us mortals as a big donut-like puff covered in sugar and served hotly fried. As my husband says, "They're stick-your-dick-in-it-good." I apparently preferred to just give myself a facial with them instead.
Guess the stress of leisure reading was simply too much for my mind to handle. Thus, I must rest. And tan.
Hands off ladies. He's a married man.
"How come I can't see any fish? What? Oh, my face has to go IN the water."
Me in my Donna Reed/Mad Men 60s-style dress at dinner.
Oh, and my husband was there, too.
I had to burn off my two plates of luau pork somehow, and what better way of doing it than dancing on stage in front of hundreds of people we don't know, and having the moment captured by forcing the strange, old British man who has the misfortune of being seated next to me during a buffet take our picture.
As any bride will tell you, I didn't eat and barely had a drink for the entire duration of the wedding. So when it came cake time, you know I knocked over the flower girl and lept over tables to get to my slice - white cake with THICK layers of fudge and Bailey's Irish Cream, then smothered in buttercream.
I know, right?!?!
I'll pause while you go take an insulin shot.
So imagine my horror when I stood to talk to Cheese's sister and friend for a split second (for a conversation the revolved soley around the shape and quantity of my boobies/cleavage), and my cake was stripped out from underneath my nose. Needless to say, this Cake Whore complained about all the way until we got home from the honeymoon the following Monday.
But leave it to my honey to welcome me home from work on Tuesday with a mini-wedding cake, and a card that read, "Every bride should have her cake and eat it too."
From Cake Binge to Fitness - About two weeks later, I went on the Pumpkin Ride with my sister Devin and friend Mark. Look closely and you can see the remenents of the Second Wedding Cake stuck right there to my hips. Yeah, right...over...there.... Sure was nice of Devin to help me hide the plump with her bike.
Heck, I'm laughing even now as I look at this.
It's okay to admit you just want to eat up his face.
Even when he gets caught red-handed making poopies.
And if her hair wasn't enough to give myself whiplash with my eye-rolling, we now have Ms. Suri in her heels.
Yeah, because that's what make sense in this world.
A 3-year-old in heels.
Nuthin' weird about that at aaaaaaall......