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Lots of run-on sentences about pudding:

About Lindsey

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email me: lindseysmo (at) gmail (dot) com


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A person of pervasive landscapes. I have an unnatural relationship with Kellog's Frosted MiniWheats. I'm addicted to coffee. Nice people turn me on. I always wet my toothbrush before using it. I paint, take pictures and love anything art related. I don't know how it happened, but I woke up one morning and fell in love with blogging. I'm a bad-ass until I see a cockroach. I love all things water sports. I'd rather die than live without music, books or Rhonda. TiVo is my homeboy. I have Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome. I like to paint naked. There aren't many things greater than sliding into home plate. I have a dog named, "Sugar;" and Mondays are all about her. I am desperately trying to keep the one plant in our house alive. My brother doesn't know how to spell my name. I twitch when people use the contraction "there's" followed by a plural noun. I reserve the right to type as many run-on sentences as I damn, well please. I'm a sucker for a good panoramic view. Snow is pretty but I'd rather be at the beach. I want to meet Hugh Hefner. I love travel. I hate the mundane. I live a kick-ass life. I dance in public. I have a mole under my right boob. I have a great memory but I'm bad with names. I am obsessed with organizing. The Container Store is my Disney World. JPG Magazine is my porn. I love to vacuum. I hate doing my hair. Being a grown-up is totally overrated. Making out is the best thing in the world... better than sliding into home plate.

Lots of run-on sentences about pudding:

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Last week I mentioned something about an anniversary, for which I pulled out all the stops and set the bar rather high for any future celebrations.  Rhonda wrote an incredibly sweet post about the event; but unfortunately for most of you, she set the post as "friends only," as Rhonda does not want her mother to read that her only daughter wrestled scantily clad with her daughter-in-law in 26 gallons of chocolate pudding.  Blink-Blink.  Yes, we wrestled in chocolate pudding... in a baby pool... in our dining room.  Which was covered in plastic because, hello?  Chocolate pudding on the walls?  I don't think so!

I purchased the pudding at Sam's Club.  Which, turned out to be fairly entertaining, actually.  See, because in order to have enough pudding in which to wrestle, one would have to fill every possible amount of space in/on the shopping cart with enormous cans of pudding.  And when you do this, people will stare.  When you do this late in the afternoon on Good Friday when EVERYONE is shopping for their Easter Sunday celebrations, you will have to take periodic breaks from loading your cart to let someone pass, or to avoid elbowing a perfectly lovely woman in the ovaries who only wanted to grab a little, 50 gallon can of fruit medley and be on her merry way.  I was prepared for the curious glances.  I was not prepared, however, for the somewhat dirty, older man to look at my cart and say, "Hey there, you got a hankerin' for chocolate puddin', little lady?"  To which I very boldly replied, "Oh, uh, it's for a carnival."  It was the first thing that spewed into my brain other than the dirty images of two women rolling in liquid dessert.  I'm sure he would have loved to hear all about what it was truly intended for, but I was not in any mood to deal with the possible responses (or any "undressing with the eyes" stares for that matter).  I just wanted to get out of the madness with my 30, 112oz cans of pudding and dignity still intact.  I would have made it, too, if it hadn't been for the cashier asking if my purchase was tax exempt (meaning, for the business).  And when I very softly said, "no," she shot her eyes up at me and exclaimed, "PERSONAL?!"  Everyone in line behind me heard that "PERSONAL?!"  as if she had just announced that I have genital herpes and then patted me on the shoulder as she wrote down the address for a local support group and told me to ask for "Gail."  "Gail is a miracle worker, don't you know."  I guarantee that every, single one of those people in line behind me went home to tell their families about the girl who bought 26 gallons of chocolate pudding NOT FOR RESALE, BUT GET THIS, FOR PERSONAL USE like I might be at home rolling in it that very moment.  Which, I totally was, of course.  I just can't run for president now, because there are witnesses

On Saturday afternoon I dumped Rhonda at The Compound with a bag of clothes and a note; and I brought Tom home with me to help me set up Chocolate Pudding WWE.  It took us two hours, carpal tunnel, and lower back pain to complete the job.  For which I am very grateful to have had Tom lending a helping hand.  I owe him big time.  Once everything was ready, all I had to do was tell Becky that Rhonda could read the note and change into the clothes I had left for her.  The rest was... well... let's just say that it was some of the most fun I have ever experienced in my entire life.  Rhonda was blown away.  She couldn't believe that her OCD wife allowed something so messy to grace the inside of our home.  Besides, what kind of lunatic has pudding wrestling in their dining room?  This kind of lunatic, thankyouverymuch.  Sadly, there are no pictures.  However, I have about half-an-hour of video footage.  Once I get it all cleaned up and rated PG (hi, mom!) I'll show you the made for TV final.  Also (this is very important ladies, so pay attention).  [Boys!  stop reading now... really, you want to listen to me on this one.]  If you ever plan to wrestle in pudding?  Wear a tampon.  Apparently wrestling in chocolate pudding can cause some infections.  Infections that will cost you a twenty dollar trip to the drugstore and an embarrassing story.  What was that miracle worker woman's name again?  "Gail," was it?         
  • What was that miracle worker woman's name again? "Gail," was it?

    It should be Gwen. Which will make NO sense to you unless you're Tim or you're a Margaret Cho fan.
    • HI, My name is Gwen... and I am here to WAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHH your Vagina!"
    • Exactly. =)
    • HaHaHa, every time I watch that I nearly pee my pants. She cracks me up.
      • The time I was in the hospital a couple of years ago, a woman came in with a wheelchair to take me downstairs for my MRI and said, "I'm Gwen--" and I never heard the rest of what she said because all I could hear was Margaret Cho.
  • (no subject) - _jandy_
  • The presidential bar used to be set quite high, but it's since fallen to the ground and was recycled quite a while ago. I think it's now part of a set of monkey-bars on a playground in Sheboygan.
    • Heh Heh, Sheboygan...
      ...Very true my friend.

      Hey, what in bloody hell were you doing operating a motor vehicle at 7:30 this morning??
    • Haaaaa! And people wonder why I often speak of TimStalkers...
      • I was on my way to Einsteins for my bagel/coffee fix, and I found myself behind your car. So I pulled around to the side and hit the horn, only to find that it was Tim! And I waved frantically without thinking to roll down the window to ask what the hell he was doing out in the daylight... doesn't he know that he'll melt??
      • I only heard a honk as I rode up Waugh. Since I was on the bike, naturally I thought someone was honking at me. It was Lindsey. "Did you hear me honk? I honked at Tim. Wait. What's he doing awake at this time of day, much less out?"
    • Dentist. This time, I didn't want to post about it until it was over.
  • careful b/c she can get to it in your journal! :)
    • Rhonda assured me that her mother was not reading my blog, nor did she know where to find it... whatever... I got permission to post about it. ;)
  • [forehead resting in her both hands, melancholy eyes slowly tearing up]
    My life is sooooo boring.
    • It so isn't. Hello! You get to build crazy-ass snow people! We can't do that here.
  • How is one supposed to stop reading....Now, I am going to have nightmares
    • Nightmares about my vagina?? It's like we're back in high school again...
  • Snickers78 is right. No better way to get me to read further than to warn me not to. Which kind of rocked. I'm going to try that, sometime.
    • HaHa. That one is on me... next time you're gonna have to earn it. ;)
    • No better way to get me to read further than to warn me not to.

      And this is exactly why I didn't post my entry publicly with a note telling my mom not to read further. She's a nice, Jewish mom, of course she'll read the whole thing!
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