Wedding Expos give out free swag. Go to them.

Today was the day of a big wedding expo that I just HAD to go to, despite the fact that my Mom ended up not coming and Fiance was like "I want my bed" and stayed home. After dropping off a movie that I'd borrowed from a friend, I went to the hotel two hours early, to wait in line for this expo. The line, by the time I got there, was in the basement. It was here I learned that the Omni does not heat their basements.

Apparently, this Expo was giving out free 8-Day Honeymoons to Mexico and free wedding band sets to the first 300 people. And I'd be damned if I didn't get within the first three hundred. (And I did, aha!) Pearl necklaces and earrings were also distributed (sweet) and then there were various other raffles throughout the day. There was food, and booze and cake. There was even cake with booze in it! It was glorious.

However, despite the fact that I wanted to spend the entire four hours there, I didn't. I ran into Maid of Honor/Fellow Bride and ended up completing my rounds around the room (why are there no florists at wedding expos? Don't most brides want flowers?) and then we left to go to a hookah bar, which was closed. At that point, I just went home. After getting gas and pizza, which Fiance had ordered in the hopes that I would pick it up.

I had bribed the Little Miss this morning with gummy sharks. I gave her one before I left and told her "There's more where that came from if you behave!" She behaved. She received a gummy shark when I got home, and I made her day.

But then again, yesterday she decided that she wanted to eat a ton of gummy sharks, which I told her she couldn't have. So when I asked for a kiss later, she told me. "No gummies, no lovin'. No sharks no love." Repeatedly.

But I did get her to pose for several pictures, because she dressed herself yesterday (after pulling out half the clothes in her dresser) and it was cute.

At least she didn't do too bad on the matching front. Though my office was kind of destroyed by the time I found out where she was, as you can tell by the papers on the floor.

Seriously, if you ever have kids, throw all hope of ever being organized ever again out of the window. It isn't going to happen.

Hyper Me is Hyper

So, apparently it is impossible for me to go to sleep before 4 a.m. This is something that Fiance is not fond of, especially because for some reason tonight, he's made it his mission to stay up with me, despite the fact that we're driving two hours away tomorrow to see my mom at 10 a.m. and one of us should be responsible and go to sleep.

Of course, they're calling for a high of 23 degrees tomorrow, so I'm all excited to go out anyway. (By the way, if it's this cold, there should be some snow here. There's no reason for it to be this cold and there's nothing to show for it.

But all this has led to is me finding the bag of gummy sharks that I bought the other day at a local Mennonite store, and devouring a couple while loudly singing the "Jaws" theme and throwing them at Fiance and giggling. He retaliated by going "Huuuuungry....huuuuuuuungry.....hungry hippos, hungry hippos..." set to the theme of  "Jaws" and now it's stuck in my head.

See? Gummy sharks exist, though the pictures are blurry, like when people take pictures of the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot or aliens. But they're real, and they taste like blue raspberry.

I don't know why I needed to validate the fact that gummy sharks exist. I'm sure that you either 1) didn't care or 2) believed me, and if that's the case, you're sweet.

I think I'm disturbing Fiance, while he's watching The Fifth Element, seeing as I'm blaring music and random youtube videos two rooms in the way. I apologized for the loud music, and blamed it on his little brother, who decided to put a lot of random stuff on my iPod saying that I need to listen to 'the good stuff'. Yes, I do like screaming death metal whatever. But at 4 in the morning, I do not need to be listening to something soft and then have someone sounding like they're going to come through my laptop speakers and eat me.

Though any song called "Bondage Goat Zombie" is a win in my book.

I'm so glad that Fiance can cook.

So, it was previously established a long time ago that I can not cook. Maybe it was from when I was 12 and I set my aunt's microwave on fire because no one ever told me that aluminum foil doesn't go in the microwave, or maybe it's because I can burn water. Macaroni and cheese, tater tots, chicken nuggets, and porcupine meatballs are about the only things I can cook, not including things I can just toss in the microwave (without aluminum foil). I can bake like no one's business, but cooking? Not so much.

Thankfully, Fiance is skilled at cooking. I mean, he makes AWESOME food, seriously. This is good, because that means Little Miss and I won't starve and bad, because he 1) cooks almost everything with gravy, and 2) I feel like I've gained five pounds after eating.

Take tonight for instance.

He'd been bugging me to let him make turkey burgers for the past week, and tonight, after Little Miss was put to bathed and put to bed, I told him to go ahead and make them. So, at 10:22 PM, he finally starts to make the turkey burgers. He keeps coming in and asking me questions about spices ("What do you think about rosemary? Should I grind it up?") and cheese ("I'm putting the cheese inside the burger, is that all right?") And I give him my opinion and go back to chatting on Facebook.

Then, I notice moaning coming from the kitchen, and I'm curious, and slightly worried. Just what the hell is he doing in there that requires "Oh God....yes....Mmmm....so good...." So I get up and go into the kitchen, and I find this in the frying pan.

                                                    I had just cleaned the stove top too....

"What do you think? This one's yours!" He beamed. 

That's a one-pound turkey burger filled with cheese and spices. It smelled so good. But it was huge. (This was the smaller one. He ate the bigger one himself). A few minutes later, more moaning comes from the kitchen and I expect to see yet another gargantuan burger, but instead, I see this:

That was my turkey burger smothered in a gravy filled with cilantro and red peppers. We settled down and he waited until I took the first bite, apparently anxious that I would be like "This shit sucks!" and flip the table over or something.

I took a bite. It was good. I took another bite. He smiled like a child who's come home from school with an ashtray made out of their hand print and proceeded to eat. Man vs. Food was on the television in the other room, and apparently that convinced us that we had to eat our entire burger. We were in a competition now, and one that I lost. He finished his burger while I stared at the plate, wanting to eat more but having my stomach go "Please don't." My desire to prove to him that I can eat the burger overwhelmed my desire to not eat, and I finished it, pushing my empty plate at him as if to say, "Yeah, what else you got. I can do it!"

He then pulled out ice cream. I hung my head in shame and admitted defeat. He grinned triumphantly.

I think his whole plan is going to backfire tonight when we go to bed and he wants to do "stuff."

Fiance: "Hey honey..."
Me: *snoring as a result of food coma*
Fiance: "Damn."

Why I would lose a fight with a two year old.

I realized yesterday that if I were to ever enter a boxing ring and fight against my two year old, I would probably lose.

"Why?" You might ask. "She's two? Are you that weak and pathetic that you would lose against a two year old?"

Let me let you in on a little secret: I'm convinced this child is not just a normal two year old. 

For starters, she's over half as tall as I am. I'm 5'0". She comes up over my waist. This can be explained through her father, who is also freakishly tall at 6'5". (I actually had a lady ask if I have to stand up on a step stool to kiss him. The answer is no, I don't. He has to bend down and I have to stand on my tiptoes. However, if a step stool is around, I sometimes will use it to even the playing field, so to speak.)

Another reason, is that she's vicious. A little kid came up at the playground and hit her in the back. She retaliated by whipping around and kicking him in the testicles. The cat got in her way while she was on her quest to get into the cat food while I was trying to fix the TV, and she sodomized him with a fork. That cat didn't come inside for days.

She also has this habit of grabbing onto your nipples, and will not let go no matter what to do. I don't care if you're Danny Trejo - if there are thirty pounds of laughing, amused toddler swinging back and forth and holding onto your nipples, you'd fall to the ground in pain too. 

                                                       See? He doesn't like the sound of that.

Little Miss finds your weak spots, and she uses them for her own enjoyment. Does she need to mercilessly grab onto your nipples with a Death Grip that will frighten Chuck Norris away? No. But she does it anyway. Why?

Because while you're screaming and doing everything in your power besides bashing her over the head with a $145 psychology textbook, she's having the time of her life. She will fall down, pulling on your sensitive ta-tas even more, and swing back and forth, laughing at your tears.

Of course, I discipline her for it. Does that ruin the amusement factor for her? Of course not. She thinks it's funny, Daddy thinks it's funny....hell, even my own parents think it's funny. I apparently, do not get the joke.

In conclusion, my freakishly tall, vicious two year old can totally take me down in a boxing match if she ever uses the Toddler Nipple Death Grip again.