It's Shark Week, y'all.

Seriously.  It's Shark Week.  The one time every year that I'm thankful I have cable.  I just lay back, pop my feet up on the coffee table (sharks might get my toes if they're not off the floor), and turn on the Discovery Channel.

Wait, what's that?  I don't have cable anymore?

Shit.

Anyone want to lend me a cable subscription for the next week?

You know, Shark Week is THE REASON I named this blog what I named this blog, in case you didn't know.  Have you ever seen the show "Air Jaws"?  No?  What about "Air Jaws 2" (Electric Boogaloo - as the hubs would add)?  No?  Well, last night "Ultimate Air Jaws" aired as the opener to Shark Week, and you know what?  Sharks can jump, people.  Like, they can fucking jump.  Whoever said white sharks can't jump was crazy.  I've seen them do it.  Unfortunately, I've only seen them do it on the first and second "Air Jaws."  I need to see the ULTIMATE, people.

This is the time when I wish I actually had friends.  Only if they had cable.  And only if they'd let me watch Shark Week without trying to talk to me through all the best parts.  And only if they wouldn't try to be my friend after Shark Week.  Look, imaginary friends, I just don't have time for you, okay?  All I need is a Shark Week fix, and that's it.  I don't want to be your go-to person when you're having a bad day.  Honestly, I probably won't pick up the phone.  I have about 4 people I pick up the phone for, and my Shark Week dealer will not be added to that list.  I'm sorry.

Any takers??

Fireworks

The Hubs and I enjoyed our first July 4th in our new city. I brought my fancy shmancy camera and set up a tripod with a remote. Here's a few pics from the night. It was a blast.

Mother Puncher

“Somebody betta' come get this baby.” Then I punched her. Not the baby. I punched the woman that had been holding the baby before somebody came and got it. I punched her good. Then she was on the ground, and I hit her again. It was in slow-motion but I definitely made contact.

This was only part of my dream. Usually when I dream-beat-the-crap-outta-people I’m in super slo-mo and I can’t actually hurt them. Unfortunately for the lady last night, this was not the case.

Why am I beating up unsuspecting mothers, you ask? Well, she was judging me. Throughout the entire dream, this woman was in the background making tsk-tsks, scoffing, and commenting under her breath. I couldn’t take it anymore. Obviously, like in any dream, this woman represented a few different people in my life. Over the weekend I had a few intense encounters with some of the judgmental superstars in my life. Then I went to sleep and took care of it. I love dreams for that reason.

Does dreaming about resolving the problem help me to deal better? (And yes, I’m saying that punching a mother is a resolution.) I don’t know. It feels like an outlet of sorts. However, I’m not dealing with the problem in real life. The judgmental superstars have no idea I’m dreaming about beating them to a pulp. I have yet to confront them. And I struggle often with the idea of confronting these people or trying to let go of their control over my feelings. If I didn’t let them affect me so much, it wouldn’t matter that they judge me.

All I truly know is, “Somebody betta' come get this baby.”