No really. I can’t. I have a weak sense of melody and he’s, um, musically impaired. He can barely even play the radio: it ends up on talk shows.
In other news, Modern Family is hilarious. I’m married to Phil Dunphy. Without being as cute as Claire. There are very few shows Jim and I can watch together. Imagine my surprise when we sat through a few episodes AT THE SAME TIME, multiple nights in a row. Which has a chance to happen recently since Jim’s hotel hours are less consuming. We might even be able to get reacquainted. All that having kids really immediately, and there being a whole frakking lot of them almost the same age takes a toll on a relationship, let alone friendship, not to mention marriage. It’s a wonder he’s still with me. There are plenty of less crazy, cuter chicks in the sea. But they’re mermaids and he wouldn’t understand them either. And he’s not really into scales.
I’m not either. They tell me things that I want to hear, but don’t like to see. After that fast I did, the scale made me happy. Dressing did not. Maybe if I do some Pilates my middle will get smaller. And less like a horizontal Frisbee on stilts. Not kidding, readers. Suffice it to say that cabooses aren’t supposed to be invisible and drink ware should hold more ounces. My elliptical, fortunately, has cup holders. I need those bad boys. To hold up my laptop. My laptop gives me Battlestar Galactica. Which helps me work out.
So my husband won’t leave me for undersea folk.
Wait, I take that back: I’m Ursula enough for him.
I dyed my hair red just in case…