Siiick: describes illness or awesomeness, depending on who you ask.

I already named a post "The Little Red Pen Vomits Again." So how do I effectively talk about my vomit to you guys this time? I'm thinking about naming this No, I'm Not Pregnant, I don't think. But I'll come up with a better one. (/Editor's note: I came up with one, obviously, but I wouldn't go right to "better."/)

Not sure if it was the Whole Foods produce I cooked up, or something contagious. But it's lasted more than the standard 24 hours that my two other recent bouts with influenza have lasted. Bastards. How am I not fired? Anyway, onto a topic that will inevitably yeild pictures. (/Editor's note: Uh, apparently pictures of my butt cheek, even./) 

(/You're welcome./)

OK so anyway, when I got divorced, I tried cheering myself up by cooing condolences to myself like:

1. I can go to Grad School!

2. I can email that Tight End guy I was in love with in college! Wonder what he's up to?

3. I can go to India

4. I can make my bedroom a GIRL ROOM.

So far...

1. Too hard!

2. Done and done (and done some more!)

3. Workin' on it.

4. Oh, my room? You mean you want to see it?

Because this weekend, aside from yacking, I finally finished the damn room. If you can call sloppy workmanship and unsatisfactory coloring finished. I know I can TOTALLY call it that. It's called renting.

I started redoing it when I was married and in need of a project. I added trim to the walls (drywall probably older than my grandmother, which isn't so bad since she's still a youngster herself)...and painted two tones above and below the picture-rail. 

Here it is in its original glory:

Then after I finished phase 1 (and Starter Husband was only a POLITE amount of impressed, even though all he did while I accomplished this feat of craftsmanship was level up a couple times on DorkCraft or something.)

Then, out with the marital bed (ew, but ha ha, cuz after losing MY HOTNESS its temperature took a total nosedive), and in with

My girly bed:

I then spent a couple months slacking before getting back to work on it:

And priming:

And realizing I hate the color for being juvenile, bubblegummish, and too much like that pink mess in that Dr. Suess book:

But finishing anyway:

And then spending the last two days laying in that bed, developing more graceful ways to barf, as my constant nausea has afforded me the good fortune of making it into an art form.

(/Editor's note: No, that is not a birth control pack on the chair. It's my skullcandy headphone container, but I could let you think it's BC, because BC was SO GLAM in high school. It meant those girls were having S-E-X! I remember sitting with my bulky instrument and bad eyebrows wondering what GLAM felt like. Anyone know?/)