mr bubble = my friend. also dangerous.

you guys remember farm school? heh. of course you do. homicidal chickens and all. anyway, i'm still good friends with exactly one person from my farm school class, a delightful gal named arielle. she's participating in the Relay for Life, which is a cool little cancer-fundraising event doohickey that you can read all about here. if you don't feel like going to the link, here's the deal: she and a small team of her friends are going to circle a track for 24 hours straight in order to raise money for cancer research. i think this is nifty and commendable, and i am very annoyed that my foot (in its highly fashionable black velcro shoe, thankyouverymuch amber) will not be up for something as strenuous as "walking," and i therefore can't join her team and help with the track circulating. i can, however, post the link to her donations page on these here interwebs! go here if you'd like to donate and make yourself feel warm and fuzzy. :-)

so this past weekend, matt moved into a new place. it can be neatly summed up in one word: ginormous. it can be better summed up in three words, though: ridiculously awesomely ginormous. he has the master bedroom suite of one of those huge airy lofty suburban sprawl homes, the kind where you walk through the front door into a 2-story sunny foyer, with the staircase right in front of you and eleventyhundred windows in every room. the master bedroom suite includes the bedroom itself, which is roughly the size of the entire downstairs of the house i currently share with 3 other girls; a den, which matt has converted into a highly sweet entertainment room complete with surround sound and squishy couch; and the master bathroom, which includes 2 sinks, a shower, and... wait for it.... a jacuzzi.

awwwww yeeeeeah.

we unfortunately were unable to work said jacuzzi for the first several nights, as pushing on the obvious "on" button accomplished absolutely nothing, and we ran out of ideas after pushing on the button really hard, pushing it softly, pushing it really hard and holding it down while cursing, turning on every possible light switch in the vicinity to see if it was hooked up to one of those, etc. turns out the secret is not the pressure exerted on the button; it's the violence used while pushing. for example, using your forefinger and pressing hard will get you nowhere; viciously punching the button with a compact little judo-chop motion works wonders. neat-o! working jacuzzi!

incidentally, in case anyone had any doubts? jacuzzis = AWESOME. LOVE. THE. JACUZZI. one thing we learned is that you have to be very frugal with your Mr. Bubble usage in jacuzzis, as the bubble action from the jets combined with the bubble action from the mr. bubble quickly reaches danger-panic bubble levels. like, in the span of about a minute, the tub went from "layer of bubbles on top of the water" to "oh my god we're going to die because the entire bathroom is going to be filled from floor to ceiling with bubbles and can you suffocate from that?!?!" we had to keep the jet levels on "low" to avoid a tragic bubble-death. so, lesson for the rest of you: take it easy on the mr. bubble when you've got a totally awesome jacuzzi bathtub.

i never got bubble baths when i was little, so they're still pretty exciting to me, and the deadly-bubbles, while nearly deadly, were EXTREMELY awesome. i commented how they were movie-level bubbles, like you see when people take baths in Hollywood.

me: it's like in the movies! like you know in pretty woman, when they take that bath?

matt: yeah... so do you feel like the pretty woman now?

me: yup, totally.

matt: the only difference is that you kiss on the lips.

me: also, i'm not a hooker.