Ooh! Look! A bumblebee!

That title has nothing to do with anything in this post. However, should you feel inspired to giggle, you can always watch Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow and on one of them, you’ll see a Welsh guy named Steven Williams. He will say “Ooh, look: A bumblebee!” I guarantee you that you will laugh. If it weren’t 10:35 pm and thus past my bedtime, I’d go watch it right now. It’s that good. You’re welcome.

I guess I just made my title refer to the content of my post. I assure you, this was not my aim. I fully intended it to be just a random quote I picked out of my memory banks. Sometimes, though, I’m too clever for my own good.

I had an idea for a blog post tonight, but I forgot to write it down and now it’s gone. Pffft. Vanished into thin air. Just like my intention to write the idea down. Perhaps I shall remember it tomorrow. Perhaps. We shall see…

Oooh, but you know what? I forgot to tell you the best part about yesterday’s hot yoga class: Bending & Boiling, Part Deux. There was a girl in front of me (who has clearly done hot yoga before, inasmuch as she, unlike me, was not wildly looking around the room as if to say, “What’s going on? How did I end up here, inside the molten core of Earth herself?”) whose nose just started bleeding. I’d noticed it for quite some time, but was too damn hot and bothered (not in the way you think, either) to mention it. Also, people don’t talk in hawt yoga and I was not wanting to break the rule, just in case they sent me to an even hotter corner to sit and think about what I’d done for punishment.

So yeah. Her nose is a-bleeding, all down her face. Seriously, you guys. There are mirrors all over the frigging place in this hotter-than-Hades room. And she’s all bending and sweating and seemingly oblivious to the bleeding, which I can only assume was occurring due to severe over-broiling of the body. Eventually, she turns to her friend and mouths: “Is my nose bleeding?”

Um, yes. Yes it surely is. Unless you sweat red, my friend, and if you do, you have a whole other set of problems. Gives a whole new meaning to the saying “Blood , Sweat and Tears,” doesn’t it?

Oh! I just remembered what I was going to write about! How very absent-minded-professor-like of me. I’m too lazy to draft more right now, but I will leave myself a cryptic hint, for tomorrow:

  1. brain-eating amoebas
  2. The Plague
  3. Bot flies

I bet you’re intrigued now, aren’t you?

I will end off with this little story for you:

In 2005, Adam and I went to Disneyland. It was the funnest. Time. EVAR! Seriously, there are many yarns I could weave about that adventure-laden expedition, which I shall mete out in small, delicious morsels, lest you be overcome by the EXCITEMENT of it all.

So, anyway, they sell all these princess costumes for the little kids to wear there. Any little girl can be her choice of princess, but alas! Not so for the more mature (you have to pronounce that “mat-ooor” for the full effect) royal wannabe, such as myself.

Oh, the humanity! So, I went to the princess section, bought a tiara and stuck it in for the remainder of the day. I mean, really: the kids’ mouse ears have elastics on ’em, so the kid can wear them about, but not the adult ones. I guess we’re meant to just sit still and watch happiness happen, to avoid any gentle breeze that might knock my last vestiges of childhood from my head. Why, yes; it bothered me—how can you tell?

But I digress. While wandering around California Adventure, a park employee dashed out in front of us from one of the movie-making buildings (I don’t know what they’re called, but you can go in and see/learn things, I think. I don’t know for sure; we didn’t go in because we were too busy having The Time of Our LIVES). He was gasping like he’d run the Boston Marathon, holding one hand up to stop us. We thought we must’ve dropped something.

And then. You guys. Then, he takes a step back, makes a massively regal-looking and graceful bow to me, and announces, “Your Majesty!” FOR ALL THE WORLD TO HEAR. Didn’t I just die (of happiness)!

Best. Moment. EVAR! Seriously. This guy wins like 9 zillion customer service points from me.

Anyway, long story made short, this picture reminded me of that moment:

Owl + Royal Treatment = Happy Place

Well, that was fun. At least it was for me. Aaaand, that’s what really matters. Adieu!