Tag Archives: pajamas

Happy Anniversary!


To me. Not you. WordPress helpfully reminded me I’ve had this blog for 2 years. Which helpfully reminded me I haven’t posted in more than 2 weeks. Which then gave me guilt, which is now making me feel sad.

Theoretically, I really am going to post more things. I mean, I’ve been drawing. But I took a few days off for my birthday, but then it turns out that the universe hates it when you act 7 instead of 34 and so it punishes you with Honk Donkey Flumoniantery Ebola Pox. And then, once you’re finally over that, you’ll have a fantastic migraine because screw you for not being an adult for 3 days, apparently.

Then WP will tell you you’ve been blogging here for 2 years and you’ll wind up with the aforementioned guilt and depression and find yourself typing up an entry so that the universe doesn’t decide to dump another plague on your head.

Can I quit now? I wrote, um, several words. That’s totally enough, right? Several?

I have no idea how many I’ve written because while you’re not seeing this till mid-day, I actually wrote it at butt:30 because that’s just how I roll.  Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, it’s butt:35 now and might be a different time by the point I actually click all of the settings. So I’m writing all of this in the far distant past.

Turns out time travel isn’t nearly as cool as we hoped.  :/

P. S. After looking at past tags I’ve used, I now want ice cream. I blame all of you.


5 Things We Should Legislate That Are Not Vaginas


It seems like the government — and especially the state governments — are running out of things to legislate so for some reason they feel the need to tighten or renew restrictions on my anatomy.  This is bothersome, especially when you consider there are SO MANY OTHER things they could be legislating.  Since I couldn’t think of anything better to do, I made this handy list.  I hope it’ll help Rick Perry and other lawmakers who can’t find things to make rules about that don’t involve my body:

1. Make Pajama Day Official.  Seriously, our nation NEEDS this.  Free us from the unforgiving regime of grownup clothes by instituting a once weekly (at least) mandatory pajama day.  Yoga pants, lounge pants, etc., will be seen as perfectly acceptable and in fact REQUIRED attire in order to be considered grownup that day.  It’s only fair. Most days, people only believe you’re grownup if your clothes involve a waist band.  I find this needlessly limited. Free the mumus!

2. Require media to sign up as either tabloid or news source — and then make them stick to it.  That way if I want to know which celebrity just punched which baby seal, I can go for the tabloids.  If I want to know why we’re blowing up certain countries, I can watch news.  (Related:  make them tell the truth. Lies are just mean, guys.) And if you run out of legitimate news for the day, you have to shut up. The end. I expect that’ll lead to some half-days and less of the 24-hour style “news” networks, but… I’m okay with that, actually.

3. Make Twitter lift the limit that sends you to Twitter jail.  Well, not you.  Honestly, I probably don’t know what you tweet about and I might not be interested.  Mostly, I mean me.  Because in the last 2.5 weeks, I got jailed about 7 billion times (conservative estimate) and that’s wrong. I’m legitimately awesome and should get to tweet all the things.

4. If people insist on making public policy based on religion, make them let public policy determine their religion.  This means that if this week we’re feeling Hindu, we can vote your Jesus out of office.  Or the other way around.  Polity Faith Policy.  It even has a catchy name. AND if deities had to run for re-election, you’d probably see more in the way of miracles just to keep the constituents happy.  Breadmakers, fishmongers and winemakers might be unhappy, but your average religious potluck would benefit greatly.

5. Legislate the number of ridiculous things a legislature can legislate in a given period of time.  If they’ve already made 3 dumbass decisions, they don’t get to make any more that year.  They have to make good decisions that benefit the people they represent or they have to fight bears while naked and covered in salmon sauce. And there’s no “get out of bear fight free” card by vacating a dumbass decision you already made.  No.  You have to be willing to die for your decision.  Literally.  So:  legislate my anatomy?  You fight bears while naked.  Seems fair to me.

Also, this was going to be a 10 item list, but I got bored.  Still, I think the bear fights make up for it.

Adventures in Absence (Or: How I spent a month in my pajamas)


Yes, I realized I’ve been gone just over 3 months. I have an excellent reason for it — I just haven’t, you know, thought of it yet. I know that for at least 1/3 of the time, though, I’ve been in my pajamas and that’s not much of an adventure. Plus, if I wrote an entry called “Adventures in Flannel” we’d have to go back to that whole “Why My Mom Sometimes Thinks I’m A Lesbian” post and I’m far too lazy to link things.

So what have I been doing other than being in my pajamas? Well, I’m glad all three of you asked. I last wrote in mid-September, right after the nephling went back to school and I came down with martian death flu. (I once said “Venusian mumps” and someone said, “Oh, I’ve heard that’s awful!” She was totally serious, so I went back to Martian death flu because as far as I know, no one really takes me seriously when I say that….)

So I kind of spent like 2 weeks being mostly dead. But then I got past that. I hoped that when I recovered, it’d be all like Sleeping Beauty or something, but turns out if you spend 2 weeks being dead of Martian death flu? You wind up more like “Ew, please get a shower; you’re 80% lint and fever residue.”  So I got a shower. I even saved a glamour shot just for you people!

Glamour Shot!

See? All kissy face. (It gets better, I promise!)

See? Not much of an improvement, you think, but I’m doing you the courtesy of not including BEFORE pictures. Those are pretty sad and I only took them to text to my mom to illicit sympathy and invoke special favours like “Can I have cherry 7up, please? So I won’t die?” [Insert pathetic photo of me, looking dead]. (I’m not above emotional blackmail when it’s warranted — as in the case of cherry 7up and Bold Ten Dr. Pepper — I love that stuff!)

Anyway, lest you fear that this is as good as it gets, I promise, I did clean up better.  I refuse to admit whether I am currently, at noon:02, wearing my pajamas at the moment — okay, well, I am, but there’s a reason!  I’m watching my nephew today as part of his Christmas break and his stipulation was “Can we have a relaxed day?” What’s more relaxed, I ask you, than pajamas?  Nothing. Unless you have pajamas and xanax, at least, but that’s a little far afield for our conversation at the moment. SO: we are having a pajama day. Even the dog is being lazy.

But just to prove that there are indeed times when I am not in my pajamas, I’m going to include this photo, too, as additional proof that I don’t always look like a pop art exercise in absurdity.

Me, looking less dead

See? Not so bad, right? Right. (If you think this is no better, then, um, HUSH.)

I clean up better, I promise! In this picture, I am upright, driving (well, not at the point of taking the picture. I hadn’t even started the car at that point.), wearing makeup, have combed and washed hair, and I’m even kinda smiling. There are no pajama pants in sight — not even the fuzzy blue snowman pants, and those are like fluffy fleece security!  Nope, I’m wearing colour coordinated big girl clothes! It was a really grey day, though, and for some reason, the only logical shade to counter grey with is bright green and lots of it. So I’m wearing quite a lot of green in that picture. Including my Kiva t-shirt. I’m a fan of Kiva. You should be, too. GO EXPLORE KIVA OPTIONS!

I got a little off track there. What else was I going to say? Come on; you were meant to be paying attention so you could chime in when I forgot where my brain was going! I’m considering this a failure on your part, personally.

Anyway, except for the fact that I am indeed wearing my pajamas currently, the pajama days are over for the foreseeable future. I think I’m good with that. The pajama nights, however, will continue, because that’s why God made pajamas anyway.

I have exciting news I can’t tell you yet, by the way. So you’ll all just have to wait to find out what that is.  But to distract you from the thing I’m not telling you, I’ll tell you something else!

Last month, somewhere near the end of November, we celebrated Thanksgiving, which was awesome. It’s not usually my favourite time of year, but it was good. This year was so much more laid back than the years before. In the past, seriously, Thanksgiving prep started a month ahead of time and by the time the holiday rolled around everyone was exhausted and cranky and it just wasn’t much fun. This year, we kind of scrapped all that. So my holiday was pretty good. I spent it with people I genuinely liked doing things we all genuinely enjoyed and it was pretty relaxed for the most part.


The day after the “official” day of Thanksgiving, I stalked the Sparks clan to their super secret hideout in Pocahontas, AR.

Pocahontas, AR


Don’t be fooled by the presence of Smiths and Brookses; this is a Sparks hideout.  For those of you not yet familiar withPocahontas, though, let me give you an idea of the sort of metropolis we’re dealing with (though how you could be ignorant of such an important port of commerce and culture, I have no idea; I blame your parents).

This is Pocahontas, Arkansas. All of it — right there.  And it’s exactly that big. My only guess as to how they manage to have a population of non-microbial persuasion is possibly TimeLord physics and I think city hall might be a TARDIS.

And later, when I’ve recovered from the exceptional amount of work this simple entry has become, I’ll tell you what I found there.  Stay tuned; it’s possibly fascinating. (But probably not.)