sick days, good husbands and the line-ups at Disneyland

I have been getting sick, unwittingly sick, sick and in denial, painfully sick, and now just sick and tired of being sick for the last week. As you can see, it’s also done a number on my attitude, so as a diversion, I decided to do what many young adult North Americans with access to Internet would do: blog. Also, my husband has been so good to put up with – and even occasionally cater to – my pathetic and no doubt annoying whining for the last few days so I am letting him play Madden without shooting him dirty looks or passive-aggressive comments about how I’m missing Gossip Girl. Which brings me to topic # 1:

good husbands
I’ve only been married for less than 3 years (wait, has it been more than 3 years?! It has. Obviously you can see who is the better half in this union. Don’t judge me, I am on cold and flu medication and super groggy, even though the Zicam box says it’s non-drowsy). Still, I feel like I know a thing or two about what makes a good husband because I am married to one. So far, here’s what I know about the criteria for a “keeper”:
– must know how to do dishes. Because if I cook already, I shouldn’t have to do dishes.
– must eat what I cook. It’s not always great, but if this ship is going down, the very definition of marriage is that he comes down with me. And then does dishes after.
– must smell nice, but not too nice. This is not Abercrombie and Fitch, and anyone who wears that much cologne is hiding something.
– must know that when I call to ask if he can pick up some Kleenex on his way home, to pick the Puffs kind that has lotion in it, so as not to be too abrasive on my dainty button nose.
– must push me to be fit, so that I can live many years and enjoy the final seasons of the TV shows I love, like Fringe, which is obviously going to go on forever. But if this fails…
– must know to keep an upbeat attitude when I have been sick for days and had to spend Friday night in urgent care to get antibiotics.

Disneyland
Speaking of antibiotics, I was recently in Disneyland. Those two topics are not related, but who cares. It was an awesome time. We got a lot of mileage out of our shoes (by the way, awards go to my Reeboks Realflex, since they had neon orange laces and did not give me ankle blisters, unlike the deceptive Nike Lunarglides). There weren’t very many people, except when they filmed the Christmas parade and Mario Lopez and the Backstreet Boys came. Seriously, they announced that BSB was going to be filming and girls literally ran. I had no idea they were still cool. Sorry. I was the kind of nerd who preferred listening to the Mulan soundtrack rather than boy bands.

The best thing to do at Disneyland while waiting in line is to observe the people waiting with you. It’s like living in a reality show. Here are some of our fondest characters from our last trip:
– girl who talks loudly on her phone about her personal life
– girl who talks loudly to her friends, who are clearly embarrassed of her
– overdressed couple on a date
– couple arguing. Haha. It’s funny because we’ve been there and are now realizing how ridiculous we looked.
– little kids who are crying because it’s 1pm, 100 degrees and they want a churro but really need a nap
– 12-year-old boys who whine, fake cry, then get their hair pulled by their mom in front of everyone
– babies who poop in their diapers, stink up the train at Main Street station, and then deny it when mom asks them if they made poopy
– kids who climb walls while their parents watch with a vague look of mixed fatigue, exasperation, and defeat
– young couples who make out openly (Where are your parents?! Why are you out on a weeknight?!)
– awkward teenage boys who keep trying to make out with their girlfriends, who clearly don’t want to make out in public, a.k.a. Take a hint, buddy
– Vikings fans who talk a lot of football and swear like sailors in front of families with young children
– my husband, shaking his head at the Vikings fans because they are not talking about how the Seahawks beat them that day
– young kids who eat pickles like they were deep-fried Snickers bars. We were looking at them like they were aliens, which was ironic because we were waiting in line for Space Mountain.

Anyhoodles, that’s my random report for the day. Thanks for letting me distract myself from the misery that is this year’s cold and flu bug. If you’re fighting one yourself, I hope this has been a good diversion. But if you’re in any similar state to mine, I’m pretty sure you are only half-awake…and this post is only half-coherent…so I guess it’s perfect.

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