'Twas Five Days Before Christmas

Hi there! Here's a round-up of *interesting things in my life.

*These things are not actually interesting.

1. Everywhere we go, Ian and I see Winnie dogs: small, white, fluffy dogs with bright eyes and wagging tails. We always exclaim, "Hey, it looks like Winnie!"

We see them everywhere, striking fear in the heart of New Daddy. I almost swore that Winnie dogs were taking over the world. Or at least the United States. But I scoffed it off as silliness. Then I saw this:

 
You guys better start trying to win Winnie's favor now, because she's in the running to become America's next great empress-dictator, a title first held by Cher. 

With that kind of power, she may require all U.S. citizens eat dog food while she feasts on steak, beef patties, cheese cake, and cheese wheels. Get ready guys...

2. Ian and I snapped Christmas photos with the pets, using the timer on my camera. We literally herded cats for it, and the results were so-so.

Ian raced around trying to snatch up both cats while the camera's timer beeped frantically. Spottswood and Harvey insisted on slapping each other while in such close proximity and yowling mournfully. And that made the dog go nuts.

At any rate, here are our holiday photos for 2011:

3. Our Buddhist Christmas tree has become ridiculous. Ian's friend gave us a pretty teal christmas tree ornament that matches our teal floor, and my parents gave us Yellow Submarine Beatles ornaments:

John wishes you a happy Christmas and reminds you that war is over.

Ringo's easily startled.

Paul's simply having a wonderful Christmas time and is ashamed that John wrote way better Christmas songs.

George is pondering the meaning of life and is totally tripping balls.

Ian insists on displaying this Santa doll by the tree. Santa the doll creeps me out to an absurd level so I keep tossing him in the spare bedroom, in the hopes Ian will forget him. 

But, just like Chucky, he keeps reappearing.

Someone hold me.

Ian Graduates and Laura Makes a Speech

Ian attended his very last class of college on Tuesday. On this momentous night, I was called in to make a speech on infant mortality to his class.

Not because I wanted to, mind you, but because his professor required the students to bring in speakers for a symposium.

Ultimately, this is why Ian spent his last class of his college career hearing his girlfriend yell at his fellow classmates TO WEAR A CONDOM. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WEAR A CONDOM.

Here's the play-by-play of this momentous occasion:

The week before the symposium- Request the day off. After 6 years of higher education and 1.5 years of the corporate world, I have yet to conquer procrastination. We all know I'm going to throw this shit together two hours before it happens, so I need the day off for checking Facebook and playing with the dog.

7:00 am- Wake at normal time. Consider getting up and composing speech early, giving myself the rest of the day off. The dog is up. The cats are waiting expectantly. My adulthood beckons... ah, fuck it.

8:00 am- Wake up again. Debate more sleep. Decide to act like an adult, or at the very least, an adolescent grasping at adulthood.

8:30 am- Eat breakfast. Watch the dog and the cat play together.

9:00 am- Realize I have the whole day before me. I can clean the bathroom! I can do laundry! I can go to the bank! I can get my flu shot!

9:10 am- But the dog looks awfully excited that I'm home. She wants a walk. She needs a walk.

10:30 am- Finish extra long walk with the dog.

11:00 am- Decide I should go to my parent's house and use their printer for my speech. Clean nothing. Wash nothing. Run away from adult responsibilities. Fear bank. Try to forget flu shot. 

11:10 am- Drive to parents' house. Worry about catching the flu.

11:30 am- Print articles about infant mortality. Consider speech prepared. Congratulate myself on a job half-assed.

11:45 am- Wash the dog's butt because of an unfortunate doo doo incident.

Noon - Drive home and greet Ian who has come home early from work. Go to Panera for lunch.

12:30 pm- "Have you prepared your speech? You have, right?"

12:31 pm- "Umm. Sorta. Like maybe kinda read... stuff...articles with the printer. Kinda speech."

12:31 pm- "So, you're ready?"

12:32 pm- "Yes."

1:00 pm- Arrive home.

1:10 pm- "I'm ready to dig into this speech now! I am focused! I am pumped!"

1:15 pm- Watch an hour's worth of old Saturday Night Live clips on Youtube.

2:15 pm- "Hey Laura? I'm going to walk Winnie so you'll have some quiet time to focus on your speech."

2:16 pm- "Oh...yeah. My speech."

2:30 pm- Dog goes walking, taking multiple craps. Inside the house: Peace. Silence. Zen.

2:32 pm- "I should watch old Barbara Walters interviews! Or Youtube clips of Captain Planet! Anything's better than this."

3:00 pm- Find focus. Use highlighter. Write things down. Feel academic.

5:30 pm- Drive to Ian's campus. Feel mildly sick.

8:10 pm- After listening to two guest speakers, stand to give speech.

8:11 pm- "Hello class. My name is Laura, and I'm going to talk about infant mortality..."

8:30 pm- "...AND THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WEAR CONDOMS. NOTHING ELSE PREVENTS STDS. DO YOU WANT STDS?"

8:45 pm- "Ms. Laura, isn't it difficult for women to breastfeed in our society?"

8:46 pm- "Yes, Timmy, it is. Our culture views BREASTS as SEXUAL objects, where BREASTS are only meant for SEX."

8:55 pm- "I'd like to thank Ms. Laura for speaking on behalf of our group to the class. In appreciation, we offer her this Victoria's Secret bag."

8:56 pm- <Snickering boys in the class> "Ha ha! The sex teacher's present is from Victoria's Secret! Ha ha! Sex! Booger! Sex!"

9:00 pm- Ian and I leave, rejoicing the end of class.

9:30 pm- Ian eats an enormous hot dog.

The End.

Congratulations, Ian! You have your horticulture degree!

Blog-A-Fred

Ian and I are cooking up some special posts for the blog. They require a certain amount of leg work so look for those in the coming weeks and months. For now, here's an update on the Winiferd family:

1. Only a year and half ago, Spottswood lived in terror of Winnie.

When they began living together, we watched the two develop a tepid relationship. Tepid on Spottswood's end, at least. Winnie has always shown an exuberant appreciation for the cat with the glamorous poses and dainty meow.

The two slowly developed a playful relationship.

Last night, Ian and I watched in amazement as Winnie and Spottswood curled up in the same position on the couch.

Then Winnie yawned and Spottswood patted her on the head. I kid you not.

Then they started spooning.

Ian and I stared breathlessly. It was like watching Mutual of Omaha's Mild Kingdom.

2. I feel obligated to post an update on Harvey. He remains anti-social, appearing for only twenty minutes per night before stalking off to enjoy quality alone time. He also barfed on my bed.

Why must you encroach on my alone time?

New Mommy says I'm beautiful, no matter what they say.

This is the bed I barfed in. 

3. I have inexplicably been roped into making a speech for Ian's speech class. For Ian's speech class. Hey professor, I passed my speech class.

The professor has decided the class must host a symposium and each group must bring a speaker.

You know what kind of people want to spend their free time writing a biography, preparing a powerpoint, writing a speech, and spending an evening talking to a class of disinterested college kids? NO ONE.

Which is why I have to speak to Ian's class about infant mortality: no one else would do it. And Ian was desperate. And I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS. But, alas, I kinda like Ian so I'm going to do it.

I'm wondering how much he'll ultimately regret this because you better believe the entire class will receive flyers advertising Winiferd in the Burbs at the end of my speech.

Ian: "But your blog has nothing to do with infant mortality."

Laura: "The hell it doesn't."  

I'l let you know how it goes.

Are You There God? It's Me, Ian.

I wanted to read Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret aloud to Ian.

He fell asleep before I finished the first chapter. Since he wouldn't listen to me read, I wrote this instead:

Are You There God? It's Me, Ian

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. I'm really nervous about meeting my friend's new cat. Her name is Blythe. Isn't that a beautiful name? I'm going to wear my Yankees t-shirt. It makes my chest look more muscular. I hope Blythe likes it. 

I wanted to buy a new t-shirt, but Laura wouldn't let me. Laura's my girlfriend. She doesn't understand these things. She doesn't even like cats. She tells me she does, but she always kicks them when they get close to her. Isn't that mean?  

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Blythe loved my t-shirt! I could tell when she wanted to lie on my stomach. She was so warm and fuzzy. I wish my chest was bigger. 

I know a couple of guys who go to the gym every morning and do exercises. I wonder if I could do that without Laura noticing. She'd think it was dumb. 

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Today, Laura and I ate lunch with our friends, and Blythe was there! She sat in Sam's lap the whole time. I was sooooo jealous. 

I heard her purring. I wanted to smack Sam and kick her in the shins. Blythe should be with me. I bet if I had a nicer chest, she would sit next to me. Or even sit in my lap. 

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. I'm taking this speech class. I can't tell if the teacher likes me or not. Her name is Ms. Fink.

There's this guy named Trip in my class. He has the biggest chest in the whole class. Everyone noticed. Even Ms. Fink noticed. 

We all had to introduce ourselves, and when Trip stood up to speak, Ms. Fink's eyes bugged out of her head. Trip was wearing a sweater, but my chest never looks like that in a sweater.

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Guess what!? My friend Sarah formed a special kitty club! Isn't that neat?! We had our first meeting today and tried to think up a name for the club. I suggested, "We're Only Here For the Beer." 

But Sarah thought that sounded too much like a slogan. I hope she doesn't think I'm dumb. She suggested "The Kitty Cat Sensations." We'd call ourselves the KCS for short. We took a vote and the KCS won. 

Sarah said that the first rule of the the KCS was to wear Dr. Martens without socks. I'm so glad I already have Dr. Martens. Laura wouldn't let me buy a new pair of shoes just for this. She never understands.

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. This morning when I got ready for work, Laura said wearing Dr. Martens without socks was dumb. She said I'd get huge blisters.

I wore them anyways. 

By the middle of the day, my feet were killing me. I took my Dr. Martens off as soon as I got in the car to drive home. 

I had blisters, but I didn't want Laura to know. So I put my Dr. Martens back on as soon as I pulled into our driveway. I smiled real big when she asked about my day. I showed her.

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Today, Sam told me that Blythe hates the band 'N Sync. 

Well, I love 'N Sync. Justin Timberlake's the next Michael Jackson. What if we ever talk about music? Would I lie to Blythe? I know lying's wrong, but I really like Blythe.

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Sarah told me there's going to be a dance and all the KCSs are going! And get this. Blythe is going, too! 

I told Laura I had to get a new t-shirt. She told me I was being silly, but she let me get a new green t-shirt.

It fits so snug on me. I wonder if I could stuff Kleenex in my shirt to make my chest look bigger. Do you think the other boys would notice, God?

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. The dance was tonight. I prayed that Blythe would ask me to dance. Finally, one of the moms who was chaperoning announced the last dance. 

The lights got low, and the D.J. played "God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You." I walked over to Blythe to ask her to dance. But this jerk named Gizmo beat me to her, so Blythe danced with him instead. I'm so upset. 

Are you there God? It's me, Ian. Today, Laura found me crying in the bathroom. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her about Blythe dancing with another cat. I told her it was because my chest is too small. 

Laura smiled which made me feel mad. I yelled at her. But Laura told me I was just experiencing a burst of hormones.

She said there would be other cats. And she told me lots of guys worry about the size of their chests. She told me I looked perfect just the way I am. It made me feel a lot better.

Then she told me I need intensive therapy and that she'd booked me stay at the funny farm. She used the phrase "funny farm." I hope that means there are lots of cats.

I, For One, Bow to Our Great Google Overlord, Part Two

I'm continuing my series on most Googled search terms. After my post on God, I saw viewership grow as people stumbled upon this blog by Google searching the divine creator.

Next on the list is everyone's favorite teen heartthrob, Justin Bieber. I confess, I feel conflicted posting about him. Essentially, I'm revisiting old territory:

Alas, my previous post on the Beeb didn't bring in extra traffic, but I posted about him early in the blog's life. These days, the Google machine is on my side, so I anticipate a large traffic increase after blogging about Justin Beaver.

It makes me a feel a little icky to use a child to grow my blog, but hell, his song-writers, swag coaches, auto-tune specialists, and his parents are capitalizing off his pretty boy looks and smooth Proactive skin. Why can't I?  

I don't actually know that much about Justin Bieber, and I don't want people to catch me Google searching him, so here's a round-up of all the information I've gleaned about J.B. over the years through Facebook, social media, and believe it or not, The New York Times.

1. Justin Bieber has his own perfume. For women. Because all women want to channel the odor of a pubescent boy.

2. Justin Bieber has famous hair. Remember that hairstyle all the boys wore in middle school? He has that haircut. Somehow, he made a hairstyle worn by 90% of all boys famous.

3. Some people claim Justin looks like a lesbian. In fact, there's an entire website dedicated to lesbians who look like Justin Bieber. It's truly fascinating stuff.

The above is not Justin Bieber. That's a lesbian masquerading as Justin Bieber... Mind. Blown.

4. It's really hard to remember to how to spell "Bieber." It's one of those tricky German names. Is it Bieber or Beiber? I can't really remember, but I'm going with "Bieber."

5. Justin Bieber is dating an actress named Selena Gomez. I'm going to pretend they fool around by holding hands and sending air kisses.

6. A random 20 year old girl accused Justin Bieber of impregnating her, resulting in a baby boy and paternity suit. Someone needs to alert these people that holding hands and air kissing do not result in pregnancy, so there's no way Justin is the father.

7. I figure a lot of people will find this blog post by searching for photos of Justin Bieber. I don't feel like finding Bieber pictures, so here are photographs of Ian posing as Justin:

Happy Thanksgiving from Winiferd in the Burbs

It's Turkey Day (and Tofurkey Day) everyone! This year, I actually got to spend Thanksgiving with this guy, who was out of town last year:

We ate tons of food with my family, and with Ian's mama who came to town. The dog sampled gravy and then this happened:

And New Daddy was thankful for this bountiful blessing. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Thanks for reading!

The Winiferd House Gets a Makeover: Part One

Remember when I said Ian and I were redecorating the house? The entire house? And I told everyone I'd post an update, resplendent with before and after pictures? Remember?

Way back in August, Ian and I got to work transforming the house, attempting to bring the 1950's ranch style home into the 21st century.

I consider myself a fairly easy-going person, apt to go with the flow, but when when it comes to home decorating, I start frothing at the mouth. I take home design waaaaaaay too seriously.

When I started dating Ian, it was with the knowledge that he was a home-owner and that his home would eventually become my home.

And, well, the house had wood paneling. Every singe surface of the enormous front room was dark brown. The cabinets were the same brown as the wood paneling. It was like cabinet camouflage. Lots of brown. Brown, brown, brown, brown. Apparently, people in the 1950s loved brown.

Let me tell you something about an entirely brown house: it's scary. Like, horse ghost scary.

On Friday nights, Ian would go to bed earlier than me, while I would stay up watching movies. And I was terrified. Lit only by lamps and enclosed in wood paneling, the house looked like a cave inhabited by witches. Also, witch ghosts.

I was terrified of being alone in the house at night.

Err, and the day.

I would take vacation days from work and stay at Ian's house the entire time. I would wake at 8:30 am, eat breakfast, take the dog for a walk, and then haul my ass out of there by 10:00 am.

I would toss the dog in the car, and we would go to my parents' house for the day. I would call Ian at about 3:00 pm to ask what time he'd arrive home from work, and then beat him home by about ten minutes. Hi, Ian! I've been here all day! Just enjoying this wood paneling!

Ian eventually caught on.

Ian: "Why do you always leave the house when I'm gone?"

Laura: "Because it's scary. Witch ghosts arrive when you leave. They love the wood paneling."

Ian: "Witch ghosts?"

Laura: "Yeah. The Paranormal Activity movies are really dumb. Demons don't haunt McMansions. They haunt little houses like this."

Ian: "That's actually quite true."

At that point, we began plotting how to redecorate the house. We decided to paint the wood paneling yellow and the floor a light shade of teal.

We traded the couches for a dining room table, and now the kitchen/ den is just a kitchen. Here are the before and after pictures:

Forgive the clutter. By this point, we had started painting and had piled most of our possessions on the counter.

This is why we painted the floor:

Again, with the clutter. We were deep into the redecorating at this point:

Ian: "This picture makes me feel anxious." As it should. This is what the house looked like when Ian underwent an emergency appendectomy:

After hours upon hours upon hours of work, here's the finished kitchen:

Laura: "Do you ever put up a Christmas tree?"

Ian: "No. I'm Buddhist."

Laura: "No...no Christmas tree? What if we called it a Buddhist tree?"

I love a decorated tree, so I bought two strings of white lights, and we strung them up on one of Ian's plants. Here's our Buddhist Christmas tree: 

Stay tuned. I'll post more about the home redecoration later.

I, For One, Bow to Our Great Google Overlord, Part One

Ian and I are still chugging along on the home decorating, which was put on hold several times due to work schedules, educational pursuits, and an appendix that threatened to burst out of Ian's stomach, a la Space Balls:

We spent much of the weekend painting. Since a post consisting of, "We painted. No, I cannot show you what we painted," would likely bore my five loyal readers (Hi, Ian's mom!), I've taken it upon myself to feature something that will mesmerize everybody.

Lately, more and more of my blog traffic has been driven by Google searches. People find this blog by Googling terms like, "how to grow sunflowers" (good luck, buddy), "alien holding its ear" (you'll fit in nicely), and "I ate pork my stomach hurts" (I know your soul).

Since obscure topics bring in so many page views, imagine what popular topics would do for my views. Why, I could pull in at least ten views a day! That's seventy views in seven days. Within a week, I could be famous!

Ladies and gentlemen, in an unabashed attempt to increase my blog traffic, I'm beginning a series of the most Googled people, places, and phrases.

Here's number one in the ongoing series:

1. God 

Lots and lots and lots of people Google search God. Since I'm trying to appeal to all people (peoples?), I thought I'd include various Gods of different religions:

And, of course, the American god: