From time to time, my brain ceases to function. It’s not really anything that’s predictable or fixable. It really just stops being creative.

I’m not a monkey. I can’t bring the funny just by putting my finger up my ass then smelling it.
bee tee dub: if you have a video of that, please send.

For me, being creative is work. I’m no artiste or magical wizard with a pen or crafty son-of-a-bitch. That work of being creative with my keyboard ebbs and flows like the waves of my gushing menses.

You never know when it’s gonna happen.
if patrick didn’t have the snip, i’d think i was pregnant every single month with the way my menstrual cycle calendars.

Aren’t you glad you know so much about me?

“Hi, my name is Angie, and I like warm fudge brownies, endless hours of TV-watching, the beach, and my period is unpredictable.”

I also write way too many blog posts about how my brain doesn’t work. You’d think I’d get the hint that I should just write and quit complaining, but now I’m 181 words into this post, it’s 8:10 on a Tuesday night, and this is the first productive thing I’ve done today.

Unless you count ordering my cheeseburger with gouda instead of the standard American. THAT took some thought and experience in knowing my cheeses.

Today was a #couchtozeroK day with #bumknee and really, my knee hasn’t felt better in over a week. That should tell me that “hey, dumbshit, you should do more “lazy” and do less “doing” cause your #bumknee actually feels good when you do nothing.”

I got out yesterday to the beach and stayed on the deck at the bar (mmmm… margarita on the beach) while my mom took my girls to the shoreline so they could play at my beach in my Gulf. I was able to get some amazing shots of the water and the sand and the whole beach from my pedestal.

(no, that’s not oil in the water – it’s June Grass seaweed. still gross, but safe for human touch.)

Tomorrow, Tara is picking me up for an early-morning date to the beach then breakfast at The Donut Hole. Any restaurant with the words “donut” and “hole” in the name was made just for me. I hope to be inspired by the morning light (note: not SUNRISE light) and the donuts (PLURAL) in my belly.

What inspires you to create magic in my pants? Can you lend me your inspiration? Or do I just need to suck it up that’swhatshesaid and quit my whining?

My left knee is still messed up. I have an MRI scheduled for June 21. Happy early birthday, Patrick!

When I take anti-inflammatories and darvoset, it feels a bit better, but only a bit. It still hurts like a mo’fo when I pick it up off the ground. You know, like when I do ANYTHING.

My girls were already going to my parent’s house for the week because I was going to Anissa’s (*sob*), so now I’m going up there with them so my mom can take care of all three of us. I’ll be the one on the couch being served sammiches and pie.

You think I’m joking.

She’s a good mom like that.

My mom can beat up your mom in a World’s Best Mom pageant. She’d kill you with her passive-aggressive statements and near-to-tears smile.

They live just across the inter-coastal from Destin, FL where tar balls and oil sheen has been spotted, but for now, it’s 99% clear on the beach. That is MY beach.

And of course, with my bum knee, I can’t hobble my way out to the sand without possibly tweaking my knee even more.

But I must go there. I MUST see it before it’s gone. As much as I’d like to think it wouldn’t and couldn’t happen, there’s an extremely likely possibility that MY beach will be ruined for years.

I must go and see it, photograph it, smell it, feel it.

Be there.

I will find a good place to go and be there without walking too far on my bum* knee.

That or I’ll tell myself, “It will be worth it to completely wreck my knee for getting to spend time on my beach with my girls.”

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

*Why is it that I keep wanting to add a “b” or another “m” to the end of bum? Stupid English language and its weird sometimes rules.

The fabulousness combined of Maria Melee, Caroline Morningside Mom, and Deb on the Rox have put together a link-up of all people who love the Gulf of Mexico. Having lived across the intercoastal from the Gulf until I was 18 and visit several times a year, I can profess my love for the greatest beaches in the world.

Totally award-winning. Like, for serious. Actual awards.

I wrote a post yesterday for one of my other gigs about the oil spill and its affect on tourism and how hotels and beaches are safe and welcoming visitors. Just thinking about the beach being covered in sludge made me tear up and miss it even more.

THIS, is MY beach:

Don’t fruck with my beach. Kids eat that sand.