The downfall of Bee

Señor Marine yesterday was slightly concerned about my mental health and due to that concern, has now caused my downfall and the destruction of everything I touch. Allow me to explain.

Yesterday I spent much of my day sending texts to my long-suffering husband complaining. Complaining about the heat, about the girls who live in the dorm room next to me, about how the moving company has lost all of my belongings, about how he told me to buy these rocking blue heels to start building my shoe collection back up (and replace my poor lost blue boots) but I have nowhere to wear them to. He wisely suggested I find a friend to do something with so I can dress up in my heels. I responded I only have dude friends that go out with me, and it's a little weird to get dolled up to hang out with them. 

Not a shoe you can casually wear with shorts, in my opinion

He then suggested I find something mindless to occupy my time. Here is where it gets dangerous.

I went to the craft store. This may seem harmless enough, as the only craft I can do with any skill is knitting. Then I passed the aisle with all the puff paint in it, and thought, "I have been talking about how I need a new computer tote bag. Maybe I can decorate one."

And that's when I saw it. It was tucked in the back of a bottom shelf, but it was like a soft heavenly glow was lighting my path to finding it. I pulled the box out from behind some cheerleading patches and unicorn stickers, and gingerly dusted it off.

My bedazzler.

I went back to my room armed with a tote bag, the bedazzler, and assorted studs and rhinestones. I set it up on my bed, and proceeded to accidentally bedazzle my finger, the back of my hand, and my toe. Once I got the hang of it, I managed to intentionally bedazzle my tote bag with an anchor. The anchor because the bedazzler came with patterns and the only one that didn't involve stars, hearts or flowers was the anchor. And as I explained to Señor Marine, anchors are very in right now.

A (consolidated) text message exchange between me and Señor:

Me: "The instructions don't make any sense. I don't think I have a stud stuffing tool. Oh wait. I found it. HA! I just bedazzled my finger. I should just leave it. Now my finger is pretty. THIS IS SO MUCH FUN! I'M GONNA BEDAZZLE EVERYTHING I OWN!" 

Señor: "Wow. Take it easy."

Me: "I'm not very good at this. I'M GONNA BEDAZZLE EVERYTHING!"

Señor: "Maybe you should take a break."

And that was the start of the downfall. Although I did follow his advice and put it away before I bedazzled any clothing, or my uniforms, which I badly want to do. Maybe I'll just stick with bedazzling my new blue shoes, since my other glitter shoes sucked. Or bedazzle the rest of my hand. Or sneak into the dorm room next door and bedazzle that girl's uniform, because these studs are impossible to get out. Or maybe I should take a friend's suggestion and modify the bedazzler so it shoots rhinestones from afar, and can be used as a weapon. I need to go. I have lots to do now.

Bee out.

Listen up, Jacques Rogge

I'm surfacing from my new evening love- watching Olympic swimming and gymnastics obsessively- to share my thoughts on the Olympics. IOC, take note. (Don't worry, no spoilers here).

In no particular order:

1. Olympic swimmers should not wear nose plugs. If you're in the Olympics, thus one of the best 
     swimmers in the world, you should be able to handle a bit o' water up the old schnoz.

2.  The women swimmers are really good about congratulating their competition after a race. Hugs
      and all. I don't know if the men just find it awkward to hug in the pool while they're scantily clad
      in their little compression shorts, but I think they could pick up a good dose of Olympic spirit
       from the women's side.

 

3.   Gymnastics- will it ever end? I can't handle any more late nights.

4.    The media is fickle. I never realized just how desperately they want to shape public opinion until
       I watched their Michael Phelps coverage. ("Now we love him, now we speak with scorn of his
       lack of training, now we dredge up nasty comments from teammates, now he's winning so we
       need to respect his amazing Olympic record. And just for kicks, let's play up a little rivalry
       between Phelps and Lochte that may or may not really exist). How am I supposed to blindly
       follow whatever the media tells me now?

5. I don't think I'd make a good Olympian. I start finding myself cheering for other countries because
    hasn't the US won enough medals yet? Can't we spread the gold around? Also, I just don't like to
    work very hard.

5. Olympic commercials rock. Thanks to some commercial (that must not actually be that good
    because I've seen it a million times and still can't remember what it's advertising. Something
    related to computers) I have a new favorite song:

   

         And a new favorite commercial. I'm not going to admit to weeping. Maybe a poignant tear
         trickling down my cheek:

Sleep...I so desperately need sleep...must watch women's individual all-around...Jamaican sprinters...

--Kae--