Anyone Got a Time Machine? A Deloreon Will Do.

I am one lazy little blogging biooootch lately, huh? Blame appointments, blame deadlines, blame it on Rio (as in the movie, not as in Jason - hi, we need to get lunch together soon!). Hell, blame it on the RAIN.

I blame part of it on trips to DC, where I spent a portion of last weekend hanging out with Maggie Simpson:

Yeah, I shot Mr. Burns...what?

I'm sorry, but isn't she the cutest? And let's not forget her sisters. We've got six-year-old Anna crawling in bed with me at 6:45am - on a SUNDAY (devil child!) - and after a spell of complete silence, suddenly asking me, "Saaaarah.... what do you do at Discovery?" Oh Anna...am SO not going to have a career talk with you right now. Auntie is way too tie tie. I told her to give me thirty and come back. She went to the door and counted to thirty. Oh boy. Note to self: teach Anna the difference between minutes and seconds.

Next up, we have four-year-old Ella, who just farts without reservation, a la Amber from "Saturday Night Live" - "Yeah, I farted, SO?" That's her. So one night during my trip, in my attempt to get her to come upstairs to go to bed, and immediately following one of her toots, I said "Come on little farter!" to which she replied without missing a beat, "COME ON LITTLE CUPCAKE EATER!" Touche, Ella. Touche.

Ballet is delicate... just like my gas.

I would also like to note that it's 12:25am, which technically makes it Saturday, and I have just NOW taken my Friday shower. Also, I'm finally watching the final five episodes of last season's "Rescue Me," which have been sitting on my Tivo since August 2007 (um, which one of you A-holes neglected to tell me Amy Sedaris had a guest spot?). So between those two little fun facts, that should give you a good sense of how far behind I am, on short and long term life. Whee!