I just remembered that I have a contest going here. I should have announced the winner on Sunday and then I could have done a whole Oscars tie-in and said "the envelope please." Except that I can't stand the Oscars, or really any sort of mindless celebrity worship because really, what do these people do that is so admirable? Nothing. I feel about celebrity the same way I feel about fashion and football, which is that we really should all go read a book instead. (Except Clive of course, but that's different. We have a relationship.) Although I admit that when I am on the treadmill at the gym I watch E!. I am nothing if not a hypocrite.
Oops, sorry. That was not at all what I was talking about. So anyway, the winner if the First Annual "Why is Chris in the Doghouse?" Contest.
First, I was amused by the number of people who guessed something that involved me cooking Chris a big fancy dinner. Are you people on crack? He is lucky if I throw him a cold hot dog and a jar of Cheeze Whiz for dinner, and he knows that he had better like it or he won't even get that. (See, here's where that whole "lying" thing I told you about comes into play. The truth is that I cook healthy and nutritious meals largely from scratch more often that not. In fact, tonight's dinner required one pan, two strainers, three pots and hauling the big mixer out of the cupboard. But see, that just isn't funny. Cold hotdogs and Cheeze Whiz though? Comedy gold.)
Second, let's have some honorable mentions.
Mad props to tiffaneyc for throwing in the Hammer pants.
However, sometimes simple is best, and it is without hesitation that I award the grand prize of a mix cd which I will force Chris to make as part of his penance to the wonderful and always entertaining Jen for her fabulous entry: "Did he eat all your chapstick?" Clearly Jen has been paying attention and understands how touchy I am about my chapstick and that I get angry if he even uses it because he does not put it back in exactly the right location. Jen, let me know what sort of music you like and I will ask him to take it under advisement.
The rest of you are not going away empty handed, however. As a reward for playing (or just sitting there and letting someone else do all the hard work of trying to be funny, slacker) I present a picture of the tulips which I received to make up for the morning of terror and woe that Chris caused me. And by "received" I mean "bought for myself."
Thanks for playing. (And if you didn't click all the links, you really missed out.)
UPDATED: What? You want to know what it is he really did? Ok, picture this:
Mia and I are lying in bed. Mia has just finished nursing and because I must have done something very good in another life is drifting back to sleep and it is looking like I might get to stay in bed past 6 AM. And then, the burglar alarm goes off.
I panic. Clearly someone is breaking into my house to steal my baby and is brazen enough to do it in front of the line of 20 elementary school children waiting for the bus in front of my house. I do the only reasonable thing. I strap Mia into her bouncy seat and hide her in the bathtub, because who is going to look for a baby in a bathtub? (And, as Chris pointed out, babies never make any noise that might blow their cover.) I then run downstairs to do battle with the intruder and protect my child, armed only with a mother's fury and a bottle of saline nasal spray, which I intend to use like mace. I check all the doors. I check all the windows. I check all the heating vents. All clear.
Turns out, Chris hit the wrong button when he set the alarm, and one of the cats dared to stroll through the living room and set it off. They are just lucky I didn't mace them with my nasal spray, because, you know, cats hate to get wet.