The secret's OUT!

A couple of years ago a friend and I were commenting about how some blogs were SO BORING and that people would write about ANYTHING. So for fun, we made up our own little secret blog, with the intent of making it as boring as possible. We obviously bored ourselves to tears, because it sure didn't last long.

I was Elaine, he was Jeff. Our characters were next door neighbors.

Some of my favorite things that made me laugh are in the comments.

Someone's grumpy.

Things Boys Cannot Do:

Put their breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Sometimes they'll make it in the sink, but it's quite the strain to take that extra 30-seconds to rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher.

Change out rolls of toilet paper. Or dispense of empty cardboard holders.

Pick up the 5200 subscription cards from magazines that drop out all over the bathroom, er excuse me, "library" floor.

Make it all the way in the hamper with their clothes. One inch away? You bet!

Acknowledge the beep of the timer on the oven, even though you're not the one who set it. More with the beeeeeeeeeeeeps.

Accept your answer to the question "Where would you like to eat?". When you respond it's always, "REALLY? THERE?" THEN DON'T FUCKING ASK ME!

Hand over the remote and ask, "What would YOU like to watch?"

See dirt. Apparently it's invisible.

Call you when they say they're going to.

Things Boys Can Do:

Ask what's for dinner at 7:30 a.m. as you pour your first cup of coffee of the day.

Fill your home with the constant sound of video violence in the form of games and movies. "Good morning!" - GUNSHOTS! SCREAMING! BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP GUNSHOTS GUNSHOT GUNSHOTS! BLOOD GORE BLOOD!

Collect enough fucking lightbulbs, cables, socks, batteries (I won't lie, I don't really complain about that one - AH HA!), that you could start your own weird ass store.

Exclaim, "Wow, you sure bought a lot there," as you struggle to drag four bags of groceries to the kitchen, without getting up.

Give you a pinched up, irritated face and mimed "Keep it down" while you're on the phone, even though the room is full of GUNSHOTS! SCREAMING! BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP GUNSHOTS GUNSHOT GUNSHOTS! BLOOD GORE BLOOD!

Act extremely put-out if they finally have to get up and do the task you've asked politely (that they freaking originally offered to do!) to be done for the last two weeks. "OOOOOOKAYYYYYYY, SHIT!!!!!" Maybe if I didn't have to ask 14 times, you wouldn't have to have a little tantrum.

I need a damn holiday from my holiday.

CHALEE, YOU'RE GONNA DIE! And we're all like NOOO!!! ;_;

You have to watch the show to appreciate this.

And how I laughed.

"And then some weird chick fell out of the sky and was all like HOLA BONJOUR SHALOM 'ELLO GUVNAH!"

Twitter.

I actually joined something early on, instead of being the last human to ever jump on the bandwagon!

It's Twitter, baby. And I likes it because I can just write teeny tiny short sentences and fill you in on my incredibly exciting life. JUST LIKE THAT.

Another venue for me to write and sound like a 16-year old Valley Girl, when in actuality I am in my LATE THIRTIES, what the fuck. I roll my eyes at my OWN SHIT.

At least I can still share the embarrassing shit. Because that flows like water, baby.

Does the internet have caller id?

Today at my mother's house, she asked me a question I didn't know the answer to. I suggested she look it up on the internet.

A few minutes later she calls out from her den, "Okay, I'm calling up the internet now!"