Monthly Archives: February 2013

well that was embarrassing.

awkward[ this photo has no real relevance to the story below, it just proves that at any given moment you can rely on me to bring the awkward to any situation.  case in point, TP stuck to both shoes. nailed it. ]

Ever since watching the Oscars on Sunday night I’ve had the “we saw your boobs” song stuck in my head.  Seriously, for a full 64 hours it’s been on a loop in my brain.  Which is annoying but up until yesterday had caused me no emotional or psychological harm.  But oh yes, yesterday that little ditty sneakily crept its way out of my brain via my mouth as I unconsciously began singing it under my breath while waiting for my latte at a coffee shop.  I honestly didn’t realize I was doing anything until I looked over to see the (cute) coffee shop boy, holding my drink and looking at me in that inquisitive, head-tilted, squinty-eyed kinda way.  So I was caught completely off guard when he asked what the song was that I had been singing. That’s when I realized what I had just happened.

And then things got weird.

To be honest, I’m not really sure whether he was just fulfilling his friendly coffee shop worker duties or if he had actually heard me singing about breasts, but for whatever reason I was stumped for an answer to his question.  Like couldn’t speak.  I think there was a solid 7 seconds of pure silence… which is a really long time to just not answer someone.  And the whole time I’m all, use your words ohmygod just use ANY words holy hell this is embarrassing, in my head.  Of course around 6.3 seconds, (not as cute) coffee shop boy #2 came in to join the fun of what will forever be known as the Most Amazing Conversation in the World (MACW, for short).  So I now have two dudes staring at me, probably wondering why I’m making squeaky noises at them and now my right eye is twitching and my shoulder is involuntarily jerking towards my face and I’m fairly certain I smell burnt toast which can only mean I’m in the early stages of having a heart attack. (I’m sure most of this only happened in my head but it’s absolutely what I envision they’re seeing as they watch me verbally deteriorate in front of their eyes.)

Ordinarily funny/weird things are my jam… but for some reason, the thought of telling these (cute) strangers that I was singing a song about boobs made me so uncomfortable that I turned 50 Shades of Red* and after probably a solid minute of pure tortuous silence, I finally mumbled something about Josh Groban (yah, what? nice save), grabbed my latte and with the highest degree of awkwardness, walked away.  But of course that wasn’t enough.  MACW had left me so so flustered that my legs had turned to jelly and as I was walking away I caught the toe of my shoe on  the floor and spilled a bunch of my drink.  But I just kept going.  And to torture myself just a little bit more, I turned around at the door to see one of the dudes still staring at me, likely wondering what kind of crack I had smoked that morning, while the other one was reaching for a paper towel to clean up my spillage.  There was no way I could bring myself to go back and help though, for fear that I would most certainly light myself on fire or get a nose bleed if I attempted one more second of human interaction.

So, yah… That happened.  It’s safe to say I won’t be going back there anytime soon/ever.

Apparently it’s just not the Thompson’s week for having socially acceptable behavior.  First Gus, now me.  Casey is on a work trip so I think he’s in the clear, although if he’s anything like me then he’s probably just one mouth-fart-noise away from making someone uncomfortable.

Welp, on that note, see ya!  PFFFFT.

* 50 Shades of Red will likely be the name of my personal memoir.  No relation to 50 Shades of Grey except that it will inevitably include the F word, perhaps just in a different context.


hey neighbors, sorry for all the barking.

[ Bear + Gus : animals in distress, clearly. ]

Dear neighbors in the apartment below us,

We’re really sorry about Saturday.

As you most definitely know, we have a dog.  I’m sure you also know that his name is Gus, since we yell it every 10 minutes when he starts eating something he’s not supposed to.  In fact, just this morning he chewed a hole through the side of a shoe, a shoe that he’d previously chewed the lining out of.  Apparently he likes to chew through things in stages so I can only assume he’ll be attacking the laces next.  But you never know, Gus can surprise you.

Anyways, where was I?  Oh yes, Saturday.  I should tell you that there were actually two dogs in attendance at our apartment this weekend.  Gus of course, and a horse-sized pup named Bear that we were dog sitting.  You probably heard us yell Bear’s name a few times but this could have been confusing since my husband and I also call each other “Bear” quite often. Regardless, after attempting to wear Bear and Gus out at the dog park (twice), we thought we could trust them to chill at home for a couple of hours while we attempted to have a social life.  Little did we know, we should not have.  We’re very sorry that as soon as we left they started barking like the wild animals that they’re not.  We’re sorry that the barking was to such an extent that you had to call the management office and tell them that “there is an animal in distress” in our apartment.  We’re sorry you could hear it “from your living room and your bathroom”. (PS that’s because we had put one dog in the living room and one dog in the bathroom so kudos on the sound detection skillz.) We’re also sorry that you had to walk down a whole flight of stairs “to see if the dogs could be heard from not just one but two stories down and in fact, they could”.  We’re sorry those two mongrels interrupted your Saturday, which I can only assume was super boring though, considering you had all this time on your hands to run around our building and call people.  But seriously, we are sorry.  It had to be annoying and I’m sure you wanted to punch us in the face a little for making you put up with it for the full 40 minutes that we were gone.

But the truth is that I’m way too embarrassed to apologize in person because if you heard those dogs then who knows what else you’ve heard over the last 13 months?  Sometimes I scream at my husband for loading the dishwasher wrong.  (So you probably know him by name as well.)  And sometimes we sing made up songs together in the morning, loudly.  And there are the special occasions when the husband loses a bet and has to let me tickle him for 30 seconds and the noises that come out of him can only be described as Will Ferrel meets zoo animal.

So again, we’re sorry.  I guess for not only Saturday, but every day.  We’re hoping to buy a house and move out soon.  But if you happen to go first and are replaced by someone who is either hearing-impaired or someone who truly enjoys Will Ferrell, we wouldn’t be mad.

Ok, bye.

Apt 608

weekly wrap up.


It’s Friday for the win!  Even though it’s been a short week (thanks for giving us Monday off, Abe Lincoln!), it has still been tough, busy and stressful.  I couldn’t be more excited to rub my face into the weekend.

So to wrap up the week, here are few fun things I found on the interwebs when I shoulda been working….

My dog, the paradox.  I’m convinced this was written about Gus.

Why thank you, mug.

This story terrifies me.

Pipcorn! For anyone looking for an early birthday present for me.  Ahem.

Anyone in the design or advertising field, preach.

Katy Perry + Butter = Paula Deen?  Pretty creepy.

This blog post made me snort-laugh at my desk.  Good times. I definitely have gotten into some weird word-tangles in my lifetime.  Remember Talkboys?  The recording device toy from Home Alone?  Well I used to call them Playboys.  And back in the day I really wanted one for Christmas, so that was fun to see my grandparents faces when I told them what I wanted for Christmas that year.  I also once awkwardly referred to my head as my “knocker” in front of my dad and brothers.  I don’t know why and I don’t think they noticed the boob/head reference but Casey definitely did and he thought it was hilare.

I want to make these and then make bet with Casey on how fast they will disappear.

Oh, and then the screaming goats.

Happy Friday my friends!  xx

(photo by Aya Bracket)


paleness in seattle.



I love me some Seattle.  Such a cool city with so many things to see.  Although on our trip there last weekend we basically set up shop at Pike Place Market and barely went anywhere else.  What can I say?  There’s something about the smell of dead fish and moderately priced t-shirts that gets me going.


fancyfish(oh it’s FANCY octupus! well, in that case…)

And of course every time I go to Seatown I pretend that I’m Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle.  (Minus the fiance Walter, because he was a real snoozefest and what was she thinking?)  But it is one of my favorite movies.  Judge if you will, I think I could recite the entire movie for you if you wanted me to.  Or even if you didn’t want me to, I probably still would.

tomsathereThis is actually the second time in my life I’ve gone to this restaurant and sat in this exact seat.  I think I can technically say that Tom and I have touched butts at this point.  This is the stuff dreams are made of, people.

foodanddrinkAnd of course lots of drinking and eating…and eating again.

I also have a theory that Seattle literally sucks the color out of your skin, vampire-style.  That’s also probably why Twilight was filmed near there.  Case in point…


Welp, I’m off to buy some bronzer.  Until next time Seattle…

a day for LOVE.

loveloveloveHappy Valentine’s Day LOVErs and friends!

I know the Big V (day) has a bad rap with the singles crowd and the self-proclaimed non-romantics, but I for one LOVE it.  Any day that involves flowers, candy and kissing ^^this^^ little nugget more than usual is a-ok in my book.  Plus, it’s a reminder to reach out to all the people you LOVE, not just your significant other.  (So Mr. Jimmy John & Sir Papa Murphy, you can expect a call from me later.)

Anyway, Happy Valentine’s Day to all my fellow LOVE-shmucks.  Especially you husband, because you’re the best.  I love you more today than the day I married you.  And definitely more than the day I met you in eighth grade, when you were wearing cargo jeans and I was dating one of your best friends. I’m glad we solved both of those problems. You’ll always be my Valentine. I LOVE you.

*For all you sassy singles out there, reread this post and drink every time you see the word “love”.  And then send me a text.  Cuz you know, you’ll be all silly.