I know that some of you have been twittering for quite some time and some of you have just been recently introduced to the obsession. It doesn’t matter WHEN you started though because the fact is, if you are twittering, you are hooked. You might send a tweet once a day or multiple times an hour, it doesn’t really matter because YOU HAVE BEEN SUCKED IN. MUAHAHAHA. I admit, my obsession has died down some since that first phone bill arrived with all 2,356 text messages listed and Ben was like, “THINK OF THE TREES!”.

I’ve tried to see if I can have just a select few tweets sent to my phone. Like, I don’t need every single one of Scoble’s tweets (even though I secretly wish I could follow him around from one techy junket to the next) but I would like to get Steen’s. And Jenn’s. And Sewwy’s. (PROPER SEO, Julie! Who, by the way, doesn’t Tweet which makes me sad.) So I think I’ll try when I get home to finally get that all lined up and working properly.

Ben has never really gotten into the whole twittering thing. When he’s seen me send a tweet from the phone or I’ve told him that YOU SO NEED TO TWEET he’s given me his standard “I love you dearly you hot ball of sexyness, but hell to the fuck no” look.

So I have to admit I was a little surprised yesterday the other day when he emailed me a link to a setup that sends you a tweet when your house plant needs to be watered. Surprised because maybe he was suddenly interested in twitter?! NO! Surprised because WE DON’T HAVE ANY HOUSE PLANTS! Well, we do have the one bamboo plant but you pretty much can’t kill those. I mean, you have to TRY and fail them. Maybe Ben would be more interested if there was a way to twitter you when your wife is premenstrual! Dude, somebody should get on that. As long as it doesn’t mean sticking electrodes to my ovaries and stuff. Because, no.

Man, I should really stop blogging when hopped up on Flu medicine.

So um, BLOG GIRLS! Are any of you thinking of attending BlogHer this year in San Francisco? Because it’s SO CLOSE to me. It’s like, right there *points North* and I promised myself last year that I’d attend this year and not be sorry I missed out on all the fun. But the thing is, I’d like to KNOW somebody going. I mean I know OF plenty of people going but I can’t exactly walk up to Heather Amrstong and be all, “HI! I totally stalk, I MEAN READ, your blog and think you are just the bee’s knees and can I sit next to you at the Cool Kid’s table?! Because that would be swell! And you said once that your shampoo smells really good can I just smell your head?! Wait! Where are you going? WHY ARE YOU SPRAYING ME WITH PEPPER SPRAY?!”

Or something.

And all of you who read my blog already know in advance that I’m crazy so it wouldn’t be QUITE as shocking to you. And I’ll probably go regardless but it would be nice to have somebody to hold my hair back after the cocktail parties.

MARRIED!

It’s still sinking in a little. And you have NO IDEA, dear Internet, how hard it was to keep all this a secret from you! Like, the time I almost passed out while trying on my wedding dress, totally bloggable! Seriously, David’s Bridal, when you have a girl in a knee length body cincher and a dress with 7 layers of fabric, it’d be nice to RUN THE AIR CONDITIONER. I have to admit for just a few seconds as my vision blurred and the wave of nausea hit me and the hot flash started, I thought that maybe if I DID pass out I’d get a discount on my dress but the fear of a black eye on my wedding day didn’t seem too appealing.

The secret was so worth keeping though. My step-mom said she almost called at 12:05 Friday morning because IT WAS FRIDAY AND SHE WANTED TO KNOW THE SECRET ALREADY but they waited and she and my dad are both so happy for us. And my mom cried when I walked into Bella Vista in my wedding dress and hugged us both and gushed and gushed. And the outpouring of well wishes from you guys was just… awesome. Ben and I both appreciate the comments, the email, the IM’s SO much. Every single one of them was read and appreciated and fantastic. Especially the ones that reminded Ben how hot he is because maybe it will coax him into letting me catch him in front of the shutter more!

We booked tickets and condo reservations for eight days in Maui in early April which will be our official honeymoon. We’re taking Cassidy this time though because we both want her to get to experience snorkeling in Molokini, Haleakala on horseback, The Road to Hana and so much more. Plus, the condo has an awesome day camp that teaches kids to Hula, play the Ukulele, make sand art, and lei’s and swimming and she won’t have a chance to be bored at all for the entire eight days.

And finally!

About a week ago I scored four free tickets to see Owen Benjamin at the San Jose Improv (YAY for mailing lists!) so Ben, Lisa and Hans and I went last night and after the opening act, SURPRISE, Jimmy Fallon made a guest appearance. He sang Car Wash for Peace (download it on iTunes, the proceeds go to a great cause) then made fun of himself and had me ROLLING ON THE FLOOR with his stand up. We had up front seats to watch my second favorite SNL star ever! SCORE!

And now I’m going to go upstairs and cuddle with my husband and pretend that my throat isn’t raw, my belly isn’t upset and my uterus isn’t pissed. They can’t ALL be good days.

So, I’m dying for a Diet Pepsi. DYING. One of the girls that sits by me tells me ALL THE TIME to just have one of her Pepsi’s that she keeps in a cabinet. But this same girl gives me attitude all the time when Ceece and I go to lunch because we don’t ask her if she wants something from where we are going. Now, this girl has NEVER organized a group lunch (I have done more than my fair share), or leaves to get lunch and ask ME what I want, she just expects to be included if anybody else is eating and it bugs the crap out of me. Like, CONTRIBUTE! ONCE! I have no problem picking up something while I’m out if I feel that the favor will EVER be returned.

I always make an excuse and thank her for the offer but tell her no because I don’t want to “owe her one” and that is absolutely how she will take it.

So.

I go downstairs to the vending machine which the guy was filling up this morning… no Diet Pepsi. NO DIET PEPSI! In a building of 300 women! What the hell, Mr Vending Machine Guy!?

So I make Ceece get up and walk half way across the building with me to get one from one of the other Pepsi vending machines. NO DIET PEPSI! @&*##$&!

Ceece mentions another Pepsi machine downstairs in the Children’s Hospital wing and YAY! DIET PEPSI! I put in my 5 quarters, the machine roars to life, I actually do a little dance of joy… then it STOPS, spits out my 5 quarters and PUNCHES ME IN THE GUT. I stand there open jawed and wide eyed for a few seconds while Ceece backs quietly away and says a little prayer. Then I might have dropped a few f-bombs and flipped the machine off. And kicked it. Twice.

I just want a GODDAMN DIET PEPSI. And Diet Coke is not an option. NOT. An. OPTION.

The roach coach is outside but to get a Diet Pepsi from them I will have to run through POURING RAIN and dig through the ice with my HAND and that’s just not an option because I’m not sure that being wet and cold is REALLY worth it. Of course, this is where I made a completely wrong judgement call.

So I cave. I ask for a Pepsi from Needy Girl and stick it in the freezer and set the timer on the iPhone for 20 minutes to check on it so it doesn’t blow up and make a huge mess. Before the timer goes off, she asked me where Ceece and I are going to lunch today.

I feel like I just sold my soul… For a Diet Pepsi.

*squeel* Friday I will be announcing BIG NEWS and while I’d love to spill the beans RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, I’m not going to. And you have no idea how much it’s killing me not to tell the internet my BIG NEWS because I suck at keeping secrets. Not, like, secrets my friends tell me, but surprises. Seriously, when I have a surprise for Ben I’m like, “I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU! Do you want a hint?! Well, I’m going to give you one anyway, IT’S A NEW CAR!” Not that I’ve ever bought him a new car, but if I DID, that’s totally how it would go over.

Instead I’m going to tell you about our dinner at Outback the other night because every time I talk about it I have to stop half way through to keep from laughing and if I can’t tell the internet my BIG NEWS, the very least I can do is make you laugh.

So, the waiters at Outback have always done this thing where they sit in the booth while taking your order. I guess it’s supposed to make it feel like they’re a friend there to help you and make you feel comfortable and, whatever, just get my food and drinks to me. However you need to get that done, I’m cool.

Our waiter sits down and takes our order… and then moved in with us. Before we even had our DRINKS we knew that his girlfriend, Cassy, was a dance teacher and worked at two different dance studios, that he had recently applied to the Police Academy but then blew out his knee and tore his meniscus and some other important knee parts and was going to have surgery and he was really nervous and he loves kids and plans to have a huge family one day and…

Me: I’d like a Shark Bite with the 151 Rum floater. ASAP please.

Then he told us all about how he’d had a few too many Shark Bites in Cancun once and like, WHOAH, what a time he had.

I’m totally not joking. I’d had a REALLY rough day at work and GOOD LORD JUST BRING ME MY DRINK ALREADY! So our drinks come, my Shark Bite, a Long Island for Ben and milk for Cassidy. And shortly before our meal came he reached down to check on Cassidy’s milk and the next 10 seconds happened in slow motion:

He reaches for the drink, shakes it, goes to set it back down, misses the table, the milk hits the booth, he jumps to grab for it, pushes his thumb through the styrofoam cup and the milk proceeds to turn into a MILK EXPLOSION. At which point he starts to run around like he’s being attacked by a swarm of fire ants.

He apologized, PROFUSELY, and to make up for it brings Cassidy a big glass of chocolate milk. THANKS! Because what I totally wanted was to sugar her up at 8:00PM! Whatever. My Shark Bite is starting to kick in and I’m caring less and less. Did I mention where he sets the milk down? Directly in front of Cassidy’s left hand, two inches from the edge of the table.

I bet you can see where this is going can’t you?

Yep, that glass of milk lasted about 10 minutes before IT turned into a milk explosion. Only a CHOCOLATE milk explosion.

Me: Dude, we’re on some hidden camera show? I’m being punked, right? Where’s the camera?

The best part of the night though came straight from Cassidy herself. At one point I was telling Ben that the alcohol was making me feel warm and relaxed and…

Cassidy: If you get drunk, don’t poke holes in me.
Me: Um… Oooookay?

Back story, at one of the many parties we had at our house, Ben was “feelin’ good” and took the Henckel to the ice that I had in our favorite metal mixing bowl and now you can’t mix anything in the bowl. On the plus side, it can efficiently strain MASSIVE amounts of spaghetti.

The other gem came when I leaned over to smell Ben’s freshly clean sweatshirt for about the 30th time (I have a Downy obsession) and said again how OMG GOOD it smelled and…

Cassidy: Is it his BowChikaBowWow?
Me: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
*deep breath*
Me: What?!
Cassidy: You know the BowChikaWowWow I got him for Christmas?

*dies*

You had to HEAR her say it with that perfect nasal inflection. It was probably the funniest thing she’s EVER said. I start laughing, Ben starts laughing, she’s laughing at us laughing. I’m laughing now just reliving it! Hopefully you laughed too because that’s the end of the story.

It seems like this is how all our outings go. I have two of my own personal comedians to keep me constantly entertained and when that isn’t enough and I’ve had a particularly rough day, they enlist the help of outsiders to make it THAT MUCH BETTER.

Anyway, I need to get my 365 up and get myself into bed. I hope you all have a fantastic week! I’ll be busy, busy, busy and probably won’t be back to post till Friday when the BIG NEWS is announced.