Psssst.  Guess what?

Ya know how I joked in my last post that I was going to do some Bible study at the football game? 

Well, we were sitting there, watching the game, and guess who sits down in the aisle next to us? Go ahead...guess.  You'll totally never guess.

This man:

Anyone know who that is?   'Tis none other than Richard Roberts...the son of Oral Roberts.

Lord a'mercy!

Me : Look at that, we just drove by the local Republican headquarters!  Huh.  Hey, maybe we should send them a mail bomb.

Him : Mail bomb?  I send them a check every month!

-----------------------------------------

So yeah.  That's what I've been living with. I shore do love that man.

SO!

Hi, how are you?  My The Boyfriend's computer crashed.  Like, dead. And it was totally my fault.  I got some huge mound of viruses or spyware or something that wouldn't allow anything to work in any kind of functioning manner.  So we had to wipe out Windows totally and restart.  And now I'm back!

HI!

I just wanted to check in.  And tell you I love you.  And I miss you.  And want you in the worst way.  Now I'm off to see some arena football!  WOOHOOOOOO!!  Beer and nachos, here I come!  (For The Boyfriend, I really meant Gatorade and Bible study.  Loveyoubaby!)

Yeah.  So, I'll talk to you guys later?  *SMOOOOOCHES*

p.s. Hi to The Boyfriend's boss, who we just found out knows about and reads this here blog.  Don't worry...I'll be sure to tell some super embarassing stuff about him soon. 

I went into Victoria's Secret today to buy a couple new bras.  While I was in line to pay, the cashier was unsucessfully trying to convince the woman in front of me that she was NOT a 36C, the size of bra she was attempting to buy.

"TRUST.ME. I'm a bra specialist, I can tell by looking at any woman what size she is."

The woman paid no attention and bought her size C, but I (and the woman in line behind me) got a big kick out of giggling at this poor lady, repeatedly being told she's clearly a D, not a C, but she CAN buy a C if she feels ok about wearing a C though she's TOTALLY NOT A C.

The cashier looked at the rest of the women around and announced that something like 80% of women wear the wrong size bra.  I laughed and said, clutching my 36C bras to my side, "so what size am I?"

"You're, what, a double D?" said the bra specialist, eyeing my chest with vague interest.

I squealed and flailed my arms and gasped and spat and clutched my chest and screamed "OH DEAR SWEET JESUS NOOOOOO!!!!"

She shrugged and said, "It's funny, no one ever believes me until I measure them," as she walked away.

I turned to the woman behind me, helpless and panting and hoping to god that NO ONE HEARD HER say such evil things about my wittle boobies.  I wear 36C.  Have for years.  I can also fit just fine into a 34D, but still.  There's nothing double about it.

Thank god the woman left to help another customer, so when I set my 36C bras up on the counter, I didn't have to go through the "BUT YOU'RE CERTAINLY NOT A 36C!!!" thing.  I just snuck out of there before evil boobie-size-guesser could figure out what size I ended up buying.

I drove home, wondering if every woman on earth is just out there, squeezing their other-sized honkers into 36C bras because it just sounds like such a nice, cozy size.  I was concerned that maybe I really was a double D-size girl.  And it was making my stomach church just a little bit because, um, HELLO!?  Double D!

I got home and the first thing I did was run to the bathroom, take off my bra, and look at the size.  Victoria's Secret.  Size 36C.  Fitting just fine, thankyouverymuch.  Just like all my other 36C bras.  I sighed with relief and took out my new pink bra.  Ahhhhh.

Tried it on. 

Um.  TRIED....to try it on.

It didn't even cover half of my boob.  Wha?!  I let out a broken squeak and threw it back into the bag, snatching my new white bra instead.   It too!  WAY TOO EFFING SMALL!

WTF?

Are they changing bra sizes now like they are clothing sizes?  Where did my beloved 36C bras go?  Am I going to forever have to ask sales people for DOUBLE D bras now??  

Dear good lord, help me. 

And, um, while you're helping, lord, pleeeeeease don't let evil boobie-size-guesser be there when I go to exchange my bras tomorrow.  She's gonna point at my somehow larger-than-life boobs and laugh and tell everyone in the store that I'm clearly not a C but I bought a C anyway even though I'm TOTALLY NOT A C .

*gulp*

Look at me!  I found teh internets!

Hey, guess what?  Working during the day + hot boyfriend at night = NO CHASEY BLOGGY.  Who knew?!

Let's see...what's been going on?

I'm still in Tulsa (I think this makes week 3?  So much for moving out of state, huh?).  I've been working my ass off.  I keep getting painting job offers here (4 new big ones in the last 2 days, all of which pay about three times what the upcoming interview job in Texas would pay.  Decisions! Ack!).  Boyfriend is ready to tie me up and never let me leave again.  I'm ready to let him.

Hmmm. What else?

Oh.  The fatso beagle ate a whole brand new container of Pupperoni today.  And then proceeded to throw it all back up.  So that was fun.

Ahem.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say.  I'd better go, the boyfriend is home.  And you all know what that means.

(Ok, so it really means that it's time for him to lay down and take a nap so he can get up and go to work at 2am while it's time for me to watch Friends reruns and then go get some fast food because I don't feel like cooking...but...whatever.)