Saturday, November 27, 2010

Words of Wisdom #467...

If one attempts to outrun a pomeranian that has been unleashed in an open field for the first time in said pomeranian's life, one will lose. Badly.

It is written.


Wednesday, November 24, 2010

3 Years....


3 years ago today, you had to leave us.  Too soon, we were left without your smile, your humor, your friendship, and your love.  Not a day goes by that you are not remembered and missed terribly.

Love you whoadie.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Simple Mind, Simple Pleasures...

Oh good gravy, people, do you have as much stuff as I have?  I mean it's like a Belongings Party all up in my homestead.  My lovely parents were kind enough to load all of my belongings that were still behind in the Texas and haul it all down here when they came for a visit. (Ed. note:  My parents RULE parentdom.  Fact.)

When I first moved back to my home sweet home state in March, it was after having been out of work via layoff for almost a year and a half.  I was a little bit broke, and due to circumstances, couldn't afford to transport anything.  But, I had an unbelievable living situation fall in my lap that I could not pass up.  So I loaded my tiny little Mazda 3 down with whatever pomeranians and clothing and miscellaneouses could fit and drove on home. No furniture. No bed.  No nothing.  My dear, darling friends, Shara, Amanda, and TJ, met me at my new townhouse to help me clean and get settled.  I sat in an overwhelmed heap in the middle of a room FULL of trashbags while my little busy bees buzzed all around me, cleaning and organizing and mother henning.  I owe those girls. Huge.  Were it not for them, I would undoubtedly STILL be sitting amongst those trash bags in a fetal position, trying to figure out just where to put everything considering the whole "no furniture" thing. Amanda and TJ loaned me an air mattress and sheets that I would end up sleeping on for a good 4 months.  Some would call them friends.  I call them angels. (OMG, can you believe I said that?!?! hahahahaha. My cheese-o-meter REFUSED to budge unless I typed it! Ha!Sorry! Live, laugh, love, and all that.)

Point:  After living so sparse for a good block of time, it kind of frees the mind a bit. I've been unpacking and unpacking all of the stuff my parents brought me, and while there is a good bit of it that I intend to keep for want/need purposes, I realize how much of the stuff I "needed" is really just stuff.  Something about the sentimental reasons I keep things goes by the wayside when I've lived without it for a significant amount of time. Or maybe it's just in the grand scheme of life, when you've been through the fire, it all of a sudden seems so trivial.  The sentimentality behind it can remain, but the material thing is just that: material. Just because I'm getting rid of that glass dolphin (yes, I have a glass dolphin. Shut up, you know you do too.) that I've been hanging onto all this time, because ohmygosh, I got that from so-and-so that one time at that thing with those people, doesn't mean I'm garage sale-ing the memory, you know? 

Wouldn't life be so much easier if I could just apply this thinking to all areas of life?  I don't want that shirt anymore because it no longer fits or serves a purpose in my life.  Can't I say the same thing for an unhappy memory or an unresolved hurt?   I've been hurt. BAD.  So have you.  So what good does it do us to let ourselves feel that ache everytime a certain song comes on or a reminder pops up?  There needs to come a point when the scar has formed just enough that I can choose to not wince when something hits it.  How much of it is actual pain, and how much of it is just a habit?  How much of it is the fact that I want to hold onto it because admitting it doesn't hurt as much means admitting that I'm letting go?  Nobody likes to let go.  Nobody wants to get rid of their crap that's buried deep in the recesses of home and heart.  Because it becomes comfort.  It becomes what we know.  But what if we cleaned out our hearts/minds like we cleaned out a cluttered closet?  What if we vacuumed and swept and Febrezed the heck out of our spirits so that anytime we open that door, we're bombarded with the scent of fresh and clean and airy?

Whew.  That went down a totally different thought path than I was expecting.  I planned to tell you all about my Electric Youth perfume (with the hot pink lighting bolt inside the bottle!)(!!!!), but instead we had therapy.  What do you guys think?  Do you have cluttered lives? Cluttered emotions? 

Let's share a group hug!

Words of Wisdom #145...

One never knows how flexible one is until one attempts to bathe a dog that does not wish to be bathed.

Go forth young grasshoppper.


Saturday, November 20, 2010

Whole Living...

Ten Tenets of Whole Living
 
1. Happiness is a choice. Make that choice today and every day.

2. Good health isn't a gift; it's a habit you cultivate.

3. A healthy, fit body is not enough -- true fitness engages the spirit.

4. Think more about what you should eat than what you shouldn't.

5. Laugh at yourself. You're funny.

6. Nurture your spirit. It's your source of strength.

7. Stay connected to the natural world. It will feed your soul.

8. Believe in yourself. Your intuition is rarely wrong.

9. It's never too late to take the first step toward your aspirations.

10. What you pay attention to will thrive.


Read more at Wholeliving.com: About Body+Soul Magazine

Monday, November 8, 2010

And the title goes here...

Ohhhh how I'm looooving this weather!  Is it beautiful where you are?  Fall has fallen, and I am in low-humidity heaven.  The past month has been a whirlwind of activity, involving visits from out-of-towners and dancing and football games and bumblebee stingers that just left me completely spent. Having fun with people you adore really takes it out of ya. Life is hard when you're having the time of your life, wouldn't you say?  So this was the first weekend of nothing-to-do-ness that I have had in a quite awhile, and I had BIG plans for me and myself. 

First, there was the doing nothing.  Gracie helped me out with that on Friday night, which was greatly appreciated.  It can be a big task to take on by yourself, but thankfully, my pupster was right by me, helping me carry that burden. I don't even remember Saturday morning.  It was a blur of lazy and nap until about 1 or so.  Doesn't that sound like the most fantastic day ever so far?  I even had on my favorite sweatshirt!

We spent a couple of hours at the dog park that afternoon and made some really wonderful doggy/people friends.  This gorgeous yellow lab showed up and her people brought her into the small dog park which had me all kinds of irritated and ready to offended because hello?! SMALL dog?!  Well, the universe checked me right quick because this was the sweetest, most harmless giant dog I'd ever met.  Gracie pranced her sassy self right into the middle of the park and bark bark barked her head off, desperately trying to get this lab's attention, and that polite girl did not even look Gracie's way.  Gracie is terrified of any and all dogs so this act of bravery was new to me, but I suspect she was showing off for Ernest the Pomhuahua because really, wouldn't you do the same?  By the end of our visit, Gracie and Lady the lab were BFF, bonded by their mutual fear of each other and everything else. 

Something about lazy days at the dog park make me want to go to the grocery store to get food for dinner.  Or maybe it's the whole not grocery shopping for like 2 weeks so there's nothing in the pantry except for a jar of salsa and a can of butter beans that makes me want to go to the store, I don't know.  I was totally gross, of course, after spending hours in the wind and dirt and grass, hugging on dogs of different shapes and sizes and political backgrounds, and really, I just had no business being seen by the public eye.  But man, Whole Foods has some reeeeally good egg salad that sounds perfect right about now.  So I hopped in the car with the dirty, grassy workout clothes, and the eyebrows that hadn't been tended to in 2 5 days because I was just going to run in and run out right? Right.

Ladies.  Here is what I need you to help me understand:  Where is it written in the laws of the cosmos, that when you are wearing a FLUORESCENT PURPLE scrunchy from when you were 15 AND rocking some 5 7 day old eybrows, you are guaranteed to see the most beautiful man that has ever crossed your dirty dog park covered path?  This dude could only be described as smokin' yo, and all I wanted to do was yell "WHY ARE YOU HERE TODAY OF ALL DAYS?!?!"  Because you just know that when you are looking all kinds of  "wow, my hair is so shiny today", and "oh my gosh, have you ever even seen a backside look so fantastic in a pair of jeans?" and "no, of course I don't smell like Ajax.  Nothing but vanilla over here!", you will not see a single soul other than a 90 year old who can't see anyway, gay men, or your brother.  I mean, this is just a fact right? Sigh.

Stupid egg salad.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

No Main Idea...

So.

Today has been ridiculously dumb.  Beyond dumb really. How is that for a topic sentence? I set myself a nice little goal last night of really getting back into this whole blogging thing.  Like maybe if I just make myself type something, anything, everyday, then maybe, eventually, I'll have something to say.  Or feel funny again.  Or something.  I don't know. It's hard to really know what point one is trying to make when there is a furry beast breathing chicken and rice kibble breath in your face insisting with a furry beast paw that you just scratch a little right here.  No, not there...here.  Anyway, now that you're ready to crack a window open at the thought of all that chicken and rice kibble breath, the point I was trying to make, I think, is that I'm trying to get back to writing.  Did I say that already? 

Did I also mention that today is dumb?  Because it is.  It's painfully and ridiculously and marvelously gorgeous outside what with all the Fall in the South business, so really, I cannot gripe too very much.  Because let me tell you someting about seasons in the South:  if the humidity drops anywhere below 110%, well, you pretty much better hush your mouth about any complaining at all because for once you can go inside with the same hair you came outside with.  When I was a kid and I asked my dad how the weather would be, he would always give me the forecase as it pertained to hair. 

Me: "Dad, what's the weather going to be like this weekend?" 
Him:  "Great hair weather!"  Which, of course, meant low humidity. Or "terrible hair weather!" meant any day of the year that wasn't October, or that one day in April. 

Anyway, today is dumb mostly for mood reasons, as in, I am in a bad one.  Nothing you really need to hear about, nor do you want to, because really, it's nothing worth putting out into the universe at all. 

Whatever, let's not talk about me anymore, deal?

Tell me about you.  Are you dressing up for Halloween, if you're into that sort of thing? 



Friday, September 3, 2010

Some things....

What the heck is up with this blogging brain of mine, is what I want to know?  I'll be walking along all day with random thoughts and thinkings popping into my head followed by thoughts of, "I'm going to blog that!"  Then when it comes time to sit here and tell you all about it, my brain gets all stage frighty and runs and hides behind it's mom's skirt.  So, maybe if you guys all look away for a minute and pretend you're not really listening, brain will come around...

Anyway, some things for us to go over:

Numero Uno:

I witnessed a hit and run accident a few days ago.  It literally happened one car up and to the left of me.  Craziest thing ever.  I was in the loooong line of traffic that happens on this particular street after work, and this jackass speeds out of a gas station parking lot 2 cars ahead of me on the right, and PLOWS into this white car that was oncoming from the other direction. The jerk looked over his shoulder, then just drove on.  I tried to see his license plate, but my windows were all foggy and gross (Louisiana humidity. Barf.), so I did exactly what any red-blooded American who watches Jack Bauer would do.  I went after him. (Disclaimer:  I have never actually watched Jack Bauer, but if you live anywhere in the US and know anybody who does watch him, it's really like you know him personally.  Am I right?)  So in this completely undramatic and responsible move, I executed what could quite possibly be the world's most awkward U-turn and sped after the perp at the legal speed limit.  Are you intimidated by my crime fighting ways yet?  He made a left-hand turn into a neighborhood, and he was gone. Sigh. I went back to the scene of the crime and waited with the girl in the white car (she was not hurt thankfully) and some other witnesses so that I could give my statement to the police. (Is it me or are most law enforcers REALLY short? I dated one so I'm allowed to say that.) The end.

Numero Dos:

There is something untoward going on in the botanicals in front of my townhouse.  The walkway between the townhouses is lined with beautiful crepe myrtles and azalea bushes, and there are a few dove gangs that live in the trees. But y'all, as sweet as doves are, can I just tell you, they are DUMB.  I mean straight up stupid. I thought it was just the one because I would go outside and he refused to fly and would just walk about all weird, and really, it just looked like a dodo bird from a cartoon. Feathers all askew on his head and whatnot.  One day, it got startled by Gracie, and he and a friend took of flying and, don't you know he flew right into the overhang of someone's porch. He was fine, but really?  It's not like it was an invisible house. I just assumed he was a special dove, if you follow, and I love him just as he is. 

Well, (here comes the point) a couple of weeks ago, I noticed several feathers floating around the area.  Nothing noteworthy but I always notice feathers because as some of you might remember, I am part bird.  Then, I noticed sad, little broken eggs almost daily.  At that point, I figured there was a snake or something frequenting the nests of the Dodoves for some protein snacks.  I get that.  I am one with nature and whatever so as sad as the broken little eggs were, circle of life and all that.  Well, then the feathers were coming in greater numbers, and I realized, oh snap, someone is now after the Dodoves themselves!  (I suspect the cats.) On one such day, there was clearly signs of a struggle.  Like a feather pillow exploded.  It was tragic, and I had to alter Gracie's usual business route for fear of finding the bird body. (barf!) But now, NOW, it seems whoever is responsible, is getting more and more bold.  Yesterday, there were feather tufts almost ON MY FRONT WALK.  Not entirely, but close enough, and they were tufty enough that I managed to convince myself that it was the actual bird's head (I'm sorry. Barf with me will you.), and that, my friends, is a dark place to be.  It really was just feathers, but let me just make one thing clear to you all now:  If I, ever in this lifetime, walk out my front door, and there is a bird head/body (barf!) on my front walk....well, I just don't even know how to finish that sentence.  I know it will somehow involved Jack Bauer.

The end.


Sunday, August 29, 2010

5 years later....

Here we are, one year later....


So I have been doing my best to avoid anything Katrina related today. I refuse to read any of the articles or watch any of it on tv. Still too raw for me. It amazes me how one year later, I still feel the exact same way I did watching the news that morning. That fear of wondering whether or not my brother was okay is still there even though I know he's fine. I remember the exact moment when my mom told me she didn't think she and my dad were going to go back. There aren't words to explain the way it felt driving through the town I grew up in and seeing people who traveled miles just to give out food to the people who had none. Or seeing familiar landmarks destroyed. Or hearing that you're closest friends lost everything they had.



My family was blessed. Our house and all of our belongings were fine. We all lost our jobs but those should be replaceable right? In the grand scheme of things, we did pretty darn good. But the lack of work would mean we would have to move. 25 years of my life yanked right out from under me and would never ever be the same. Imagine having to pack up and leave everything you've ever known in a matter of days. It amazes me that in this horrible tragedy where I didn't lose a thing, I lost everything.



Just goes to show you how every single person was affected in some way. To all those who lost their homes or a family member or a pet, my heart truly goes out to you. To those whose belongings and loved ones were fine but you lost the only life you knew, you are not alone.


Old school: Being deaf sucks...

My mom is staying south tonight at my aunt's house so my dad and I decide to go to a movie. He was telling me he hasn't been to a movie in the theater in years because he always feels cheated. I can totally understand because nothing sucks more than forking over $20 for movie and popcorn and all that and then the movie sucks yes? So anyways, he's all excited cuz we're going to see Bee Movie and this is his first time in a stadium theater. We get the popcorn and drinks and let me tell you...this is the smallest "stadium" theater I've ever seen. I am not exaggerating when I tell you it was 6 rows. SIX. Whatever, shake it off right? So you know how when you're eating popcorn and all the butter and salt and stuff is at the top and then you finally get down to that part of the popcorn that is butterless? Sad moment right? Most theaters the popcorn is good enough to move past this sad time, but new Cinemark??? Noooooooo. NAS-TEE!!!! Couldn't even eat it. (I should probably mention that both my dad and I are the biggest popcorn whores ever to walk this Earth. Truly. Call us names, fine. Bad popcorn, you have a 5 second head start). Deep breath. The movie starts and I can't hear any of it. I know if I can't hear it, no way can my Dad hear it. I go to nicely tell the manager that my dad is hard of hearing (thought I'd get more sympathy than being hard of hearing myself) and could she please have the volume bumped up some. Manager lady gets on her little radio and apparently fake calls somebody cuz guess what volume was NOT turned up at all? Did you guess Bee Movie? I am starting to feel SOOO Italian at this point. My sweet dad being the cool older guy that he is keeps "whispering" "CAN YOU HEAR ANY OF IT? THEY DIDN'T TURN IT UP DID THEY? WANT ME TO GO?" all loud and stuff. LOVE him! So he goes out and tells manager lady that his daughter can't hear the movie (which is SO freaking hilarious to me. Why must we put the deaf blame on each other?). Again, she fake radios cuz nada. So we gave up. We decided our money back is way better than working (which is totally what is is when you are attempting to hear) through this movie. We had to ask manager lady for our refund. She didn't question a thing about it. Guess it was pretty clear when hard of hearing Dad and daughter who can't hear were asking for it. So we came home and sang Gordon Lightfoot songs while Daddy played the guitar. Life is good. :)

Retro: Snap, Crackle, Pop...

So my last blog was on locker room etiquette and I didn't really want to do etiquette again because I do love to keep you all on your toes with my subject choices, but due to the head-shaking experience of this past weekend, I've decided to venture into what I believe to be proper grocery store etiquette.


It started with shampoo. I should've known exactly how this shopping excursion was going to go simply by the challenge shampoo proved to be. So I'm trying to get to the Garnier Fructiste shampoo (based on a recommendation from a friend because she said her hair broke off less but in my personal and professional review, it made my hair big and not soft – both not good things to be) and this lady is studying every bottle on the aisle. I understand completely this action because I do it too. Problem is: her basket. It's empty and sitting in the middle of the aisle. I say excuse me because my mama raised me right and, barely glancing my way, moves it closer to the shampoo. Um, thanks? For effect (because I'm a little irritated and possibly invisible?) I stand on the bottom edge of her cart and reach way over to grab the shampoo and conditioner I need. Apparently, only then did my invisible cape fall off, because she tries to move the cart. No, it's fine, thank you, I got what I need. Jenny: 1 Grocery store: 0



Next up are the families who shop together. First off let me point out that I FULLY support doing things together as a family. I cannot stress this enough. However, when your family count is in the double digits such as 17 or so members and you are all congregating in the middle of aisle to discuss the 37 different kinds of Chex Mix and which one best suits your family's needs, it becomes more of a roadblock than quality time. Might I suggest taking turns going down the aisles? Send kids 1, 7, and 9 for the chips, then maybe kids 3-5 over there to get the milk. Hey, it's just a suggestion. I understand that it's probably hard to find stuff to do under the $500 mark when you're that numerous, but please let's work something out. I really need those Pringles you are blocking. Jenny: 1 Grocery Store: 1



And finally we have Macaroni Joe. I give Joe 100 cool points for effort here though. He tried to stay out of the way while he researched macaroni. He really, really tried. BUT…parking your cart on one side of the aisle as close to the shelf as he could get it, and then standing on the other side of the aisle with his face 2 inches from the mac boxes kind of defeated the purpose. Poor guy. Here he is thinking he's doing a world of good by keeping the aisles clear, but now nobody can get pasta OR mac 'n' cheese. And don't you know my egg noodles were behind his cart. *sigh* I fold. Well played, grocery store. Well played.

Vintage: Locker Room Etiquette...

I, as are many of you, am a member of a health club. I work out regularly and while I have not had a need to use the locker/shower aspect of the locker room yet, I have been in there to use the facilities. For those of you who have never been in a locker room, it is not entirely unusual to see some flesh. I understand that after a workout or swim in the pool many people need to shower and change and go on with their days. Now let me take this moment to point out locker room nudity is fine with me, as long as said nudity is respectful of the other people in the room. However, when nudity sits its BARE ASS on the community bench, that's when I black out and try to find my happy place. Excuse me ma'am, but there is nothing between that bench and all of your business!!! Lay a towel down for goodness sake! Some poor unsuspecting woman is going to walk in here in 15 minutes and put her bag and workout gear on that same bench, completely clueless as to what violations have occurred. So please people, think. Be aware of what you're doing. Spare those of us who just happened to look up at the wrong time. And please bring a towel.

29 + 1...

Well. Looks like I lied didn't I?  I looked you right in the reading comprehension and lied.  *shame*  Are you still talking to me?  I know I said I'd post stuff and tell stories and all that, but then I didn't.  And honestly, I just didn't want to, and I don't really even feel all that bad about it, so we're just going to have to suck it up and move.  So we're good here? Good.

So what should we talk about?  I guess I'll tell you about my birthday party since I know that's what you are most interested in. 

I turned 30.  Hooray?  Actually, I'm really okay with it because from what I hear, the 30's are the place to be.  No therapy needed.  And because I have some of the most fantastic friends ever made in the universe, they threw me a birthday party.  It was a Phantom of the Opera themed masquerade ball.  Dude, are you jealous?  Because seriously, how awesome is that? 

We all dressed up in formal gowns and fancy masks and whirled and twirled around my friend Amanda's huge living room to the soundtrack to Phantom.  And then of course when that got old, we whirled and twirled to some Flo Rida because we are nothing, if not classy. 




These ladies did such a fantastic job decorating that it still blows my mind.  The entire dining room was covered in black tablecloths and all lights were replaced with those flickering votive fake candles.  Red carnations and handmade artwork were around too, so that it had that air of old, creepy mansion or whatever.  Bottom line:  it kicked heinie.  (Unrelated question:  How exactly is heinie spelled?  Because I always feel wrong no matter how I do it?  Is it heinie?  Heiny? Heinee? Hi-Knee? Help me internet.)



So there you have it in a wee, little nutshell.  To review:  I'm 30, my friends are amazing, and I can't spell slang words for buttocks. 

The end.

Friday, July 9, 2010

I used to be a blogger once....

Dude.  I know.  It's been 100 years and you were all getting horribly concerned that I might have fallen off the edge of the planet.  But no worries.  I am still here.  I just haven't been here here ya know?  And really, it's not because I don't have anything to say.  It's pretty much that I just have TOO MUCH to say which causes a system overload and leaves me with nothing to say.  Are you following this?  Me neither.

Anyway, I hope you all are rocking your lives like the awesome peeps you are.  I will do my best to update more often, especially now that I'm a little afraid of Kathryn.  She sent me an intense poke comment which left a righteous bruise, man.  Soooo many stories to tell you.  I mean, really, did you all know that I have moved?  You did know that actually because I told you, but did you know I moved to a whole new STATE? No, you did not.  And did you also know that I FINALLY got a job?  Bet ya didn't.  And how about the fact that I am now officially and legally and sassily 30 years old?  And there was a birthday party?  That involved ball gowns?  And masquerade masks? Yowza right?  Here is the edge of your seat, welcome to it.

So yeah, I'll try to fill you in on the scoop as soon as my brain cooperates.  It's been far too preoccupied with things like 2 story inflatable water slides and vampires and werewolves to even try to form complete sentences.  Stay tuned ok....?

Thanks for sticking around. :)

xoxo,

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Rest of the Story...


So here it is.  The reason behind the cryptic message requesting your awesome.  I needed this dress.  On the cheap, no less.  And don't you know it only took me two Goodwills to find it.  And it was only $5!  Holler!

So to ease your troubled minds, here is The REST of the STORY: (you said that all Paul Harvey-like right? Good.) 

(*Plus 10 cool points for those of you who made my day and tried to guess the answers.  I heart you.)

Alright, so I'm looking for a dress that is required for a 50's party that is coming up in the next couple of weeks. As long as it fits the theme and doesn't have a poodle on it (because I HATE POODLES! DISLIKE!), then it'll work. Oh, and it can't cost more than $20. Follow?

My BFF's parents' 30th wedding anniversary was this month, so their wonderful children threw them a fantastic surprise 50's themed sock hop.  And because my BFF is a bit theme party obsessed and would likely fight me in the parking lot if I even dared consider not dressing up, I began the hunt for The Outfit.  And you guys?  Costumes are expensive, yo!  My initial plan was to go sort of 50's housewife a la Stepford, but don't you know that's impossible to do without spending $150 on a Vintage Frock or whatever.  BFF was all on the whole poodle skirt bandwagon, and, just...no.  I couldn't do it.  On principle!  I cannot have a poodle on my person!  I cannot! (My sincerest apologies to those of you who have poodles that you love and cherish and who provide you with the companionship you so deserve.  I am very happy for you and your poodle because although I DISLIKE! them, I do not want any harm to befall them and am happy that you are providing them with love and care.  But please, keep it over there away from me and don't make me look at it.  But still, happy for you.)

So yeah, poodle skirt is not an option, and I found several that had other appliques like records or music note which is fine, however, they all cost like 30 bucks.  Which I know is not outrageous or anything, but y'all, I still don't have a j-o-b and 50's costume was never in the "Food, Clothing, Shelter" list of needs my Dad raised us with.  So sorry non-poodle skirt.  You will not be coming home with me.  On my second Goodwill trip, I found the above dress. WOO HOO!  It was a couple of sizes too small so I had to cut the seam all the way to the waist in the back to allow for all the breathing stuff that the medical community insists is so important.  But I'd say it worked quite well.  Except that it smelled like a Goodwill and I forgot to wash it until the day of the party and it's made of really high quality classy rayon so it was all DRY CLEAN ONLY and yeah right so I threw it in the sink with lingerie soap to do some handwashing.  And then I was in such a hurry to not be handwashing this dress that I didn't exactly rinse it all the way so instead of smelling like a Goodwill, I smelled dinstinctly like a 90 year old woman IN a Goodwill.  So there's that.

My lovely friend, Amanda, loaned me her cute little white shrug, and I got the ribbon for my hair and the waistband for like $3 or something at a fabric shop. Then there were the shoes. The adorable, pinching, suffocating, blister making shoes I had to borrow.  See, the party was an hour and a half away from where I live so I was getting ready at a friend's house nearby. I bought some faux Keds at Wal-Mart to wear with these little white bobby socks.  Don't you know I was all ready to go before I realized I left my shoes at home.  An hour and a half away.  I yelled a few words I think.  I can't be sure.  But my darling friend had these cute pair of Steve Madden pumps with a kitten heel, and because I didn't see myself strutting into this party with my Asics on, I figured I'd have to make them work.  Here's the thing:  I wear a 9 1/2 shoe.  Except in Steve Madden's, which I have to wear a 10, and even then there is zero wiggle room.  The shoes she loaned me?  Were a 9.  Sometimes, you just have to commit to the character.  I wore them and danced and twirled and laughed all night about how agonizingly tight they were because apparently my Self thinks that kind of thing is funny.

And then we went home and drank orange juice while reading the news and making sarcastic comments.  Because that's what they did in the 50's.





Thursday, April 8, 2010

Welcome Wagon...

I thought y'all might like to see what I see when I pull into my carport....



It's the highlight of my day. :)


Friday, April 2, 2010

It is well with my soul...


Or more specifically:



Know what I mean?










Sunday, March 28, 2010

I was never here....

So this is a post about a secret that I can't really talk about because it is a surprise and in no way do the people/persons involved EVER read this blog or even know about it, but you know the one time I post something of a surprisey nature will be the ONE time people/persons will stumble across this little page right?  However, I desperately need your collective good thoughts for a mission I am on so I am going to be explain it with lots of blanks so as not to ruin the surprise for the people/persons who aren't reading this k?

Alright, so I'm looking for a _____ that is required for a ______ that is coming up in the next ______.  As long as it fits the ______  and doesn't have a ______ on it (because I HATE ____! DISLIKE!), then it'll work.  Oh, and it can't _____ more than _____. Follow?

Now, you're mission, should you choose to accept it, is to muster up all the prayers, positive thinking, and good vibrations that you can, and send them out into this giant world, particularly concentrating them towards the Goodwill down the street, if you don't mind.  And hopefully, with our combined powers of AWESOME, I will find the necessary _____ for the _____.

Thank you for your time.

**This blog will self-destruct in 30 seconds.**

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Titled Two Days Later...

Okay, well you know how trying to think of how to start these darned blog things off can sometimes be just a big pain in the rump?  Like, you're driving around and have this idea for what you're going to write about but somehow it's so random and not really as elaborate as you need it to be or whatever so a kick off sentence is nowhere to be found?  And so next thing you know you're lying in your bed with your laptop staring you in the face and you're so tired that the monitor is kind of making you blink your eyes too much because it's so bright?  And then you're sort of lecturing your brain for being so INCAPABLE OF LEARNING and not remembering to just blog during the day already instead of trying to tell a story after cerebral closing time? You know?

I have some dog park stories to tell you about, but we're going to cover that another time because of the tired (see above).  But for now, I do need to tell you guys about Walgreens and how we are no longer on speaking terms. I'm sorry to bring all my relationship troubles to the table, but some things just need to be said. I'm not sure how many of you are aware of a little thing called Easter candy.  Have you heard of it?  In some cultures it is known as "a reason for living."  Sound familiar?  Well, as I'm sure you know, there are certain yummy things that come out ONLY for the Easter season. Which, by the way, might awaken an undeniable sense of urgency in some people (me) and cause them to almost knock over an old lady in the grocery line because she was blocking the last mini bag of candy (also me). 

The past few days I've been feeling kind of crummy.  I didn't really know exactly what was causing it until this morning when I noticed my car was completely coated in the familiar yellow dust of the pollen.  Ugh.  Allergies anyone?  So after a few errands and ALOT of time at the dog park amidst some nice polleny trees and dirty, polleny dogs, I was not in fighting shape.

After doing a few things around the casa, I was sprawled out watching Tuesday night Office reruns (3 hours of The Office on TBS! I love Tuesday Office night!). At about 8 p.m., my self decided that nothing sounded better than Cadbury Mini Eggs at that moment.  Now just to be clear I'm not talking Cadbury Creme Eggs, which are the ones with the chocolate outside and creme stuff in the middle that divides families.  I'm talking the tiny little solid cadbury chocolate eggs with the delightful candy shell (not unlike m&m's, except totally unlike m&m's).

So yeah, self is all CADBURY MINI EGGS!

But I'm still polleny and dog park dusty and horizontal and I still need a shower so I told self NO! 

Then self says Oooooh ice cream! 

Me: Polleny! Dusty! Horizontal!

Self:  What if...you put the Cadbury Mini Eggs...IN the ice cream?

Me: .......  I'll get my keys.

Right?!  How smart is my self sometimes?! (And I would like to just say, that I think we - society, as a whole - do mix enough things with ice cream.  Think about that today when your mind wanders.)

My plan was just to drive down the street to Walgreens, get the ice cream/mini eggs, and get right back home before the cranky part of me realized what just happened.  But don't you know Walgreens and it's rude ways had other plans?  Not a single Mini Egg. Anywhere. At all.  There was, however, a little sale sign that said Cadbury 2/$4.  WHAT the WHAT?  Why you gotta be all in my face like that Walgreens?  Can't you see that I'm here all heartbroken in your Reason For Living aisle, and you're going to just throw it in my face that not only is the candy gone, but it's gone because of a SALE that I missed.  That's just cold.

Now normally, I would've just gone to another store (yeah, take THAT Walgreens!), but there was only an hour and half of Tuesday Office night left, and missing any more than I had already was just not an option.  So I settled for a small pint of Mint Chocolate Chip (YUM!) and a couple of Gold Brick Eggs.  And, I mean, Gold Brick Eggs are nice and all, but I think we all know that Mini Eggs are made of hugs from baby angels, and really, how can you compare the two?  Apples to oranges.  Bricks to baby angels.  It just doesn't compute.  Sigh.

So whatever, the point is Gold Brick Eggs, when eaten in an agitated state, will make you feel like death, but Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream is always, always there for you.  That, and Walgreens is a dodo-head.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

For the Inquiring Minds....

The Mac 'n Cheese pizza is literal keeping it real mac n cheese.  Cheddar and all.  Make it just like you'd make it at home (not the Kraft stuff though...sorry) and throw it on a regular pizza crust apparently.  Life = changed.  You're welcome.

Also, it can be found in it's natural habitat for viewing/tasting parties at CiCi's Pizza. 

Go forth and be merry my friends.


Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Geez Louise...

It seems every time I want to tell you guys about something and work up draft #1 in my head, the next thing I know, I'm all tired and fussy and I just don't wanna go through all the typing and posting and stuff. I mean, it's hard work getting my thoughts all filed in an organized fashion and then lined up just so in the disembark area and then loosing them while trying to eloquently throw them out here for you to make sense of.  Who has that kind of energy when the whole day is said and done and all that and so on and so forth?  And on occasion when I'm just so blinky tired but my systems are not entirely ready to power down, I'll decide to read some of your lovely stories instead.  But here's what happens when I try to execute that plan of action.  You are all too lovely and funny and I find myself relaxing more and more and more as I read, and then don't you know I'm too tired to comment.  Isn't that just the saddest thing you've ever heard?  It really is, isn't it. 

Did any of that make sense?  Does it matter?  If you want the truth, the only reason I am writing this is because I really wanted to tell you about the Mac 'n' Cheese Pizza I had the other day.  Mac 'n' Cheese!  On a pizza!  Have you ever heard such nonsense in your whole life?  And I tell you this:  Best. Pizza. Ever.  I don't know why I've never thought of this before?  Why haven't you?  Why hasn't America?  I mean, you guys, this kind of awesome was beyond my scope of comprehension. I ate four whole pieces.  FOUR!  

It wasn't regular elbow macaroni though.  (Thank you to Google for helping me figure out that it was Cellentani pasta.) So cheesy cellentani pizza thrown on a pizza crust.  No sauce. No other bells or whistles.  Mac. Cheese. Pizza crust.  Amen.

And it was all pizza buffet and stuff and don't you know while we were sitting there with piece #2, this whole busload of high schoolers walk in the door.  Panic!  I ran up to the buffet and grabbed the last 2 pieces. There is no way the appetite of a high school dude is going to be able to resist the magic of the PizzaMac.  But don't worry.  I took care of it and polished off every bite of it. 

So.  There you have it.  PizzaMac = life changing.  Bet your glad I stayed awake long enough to tell you about it.  You're welcome.

Goodnight.


Thursday, March 11, 2010

Zen....

Imagine with me, if you will, your happy place.  Where your mind goes when it wants to be relieved of all the stresses of the day.  Now close your eyes for a moment.  Imagine yourself in a warm, comfortable bed.  All by yourself so no covers are being stolen.  No snoring is disrupting your slumber. No alarm clock to go off in just a few hours.  The night is yours to sleep until you're finished. Your head has found that perfect spot on the pillow which is now cradling your neck in full support of your relaxation.  The temperature in the room has found that delicate balance between hot and cold allowing you to sink into that cozy place of wonderful, restful sleep. Now, take a deep breath, and surrender yourself to this healing cocoon of serenity.

And when you think it is impossible for yourself to be sleeping any more soundly...

BANG! BANG! BANG! THUD! THUD! BANG! THUD! BANG! BANG! THUD! BANG! BANG!

Guess whose stupid neighbors got a new roof today?  Guess who lives in a townhouse that is in the unit directly next door and connected to the new roof neighbors?  Guess who was so close to the roofing action that she literally could have reached out her bedroom window and stolen the stupid ladder?  Guess where early morning banging roofers falls on my Are You Freaking Kidding Me?! pet peeve list?

Y'all need to understand something very critical here.  I am not, nor will I ever be, a morning person.  It's just a biological (physiological?) fact of my life, one which I have made peace with. Add to that the fact that I am no stranger to insomnia, and, well, you've just got yourself one grumpy little chicken, mister.

Ugh, this morning was this fantastic blend of cotton and temperature and relaxation and soundness of sleep, then BAM!  The Bangers Boys report to work.  I woke up groggily thinking someone was banging on my door, but as the fog wore off, I recognized the sound.  The awful, cranky-inducing sound.  Without even picking my head off the pillow, I reached to the window and flipped one of the slats on the blinds.  There it was.  The Ladder. Noooooooooooooooooo!  And then I saw two men climbing the ladder with all kinds of supplies, and all I could think was, "Poor guys had no idea they were going to die at the hands of an unrested woman today."

Gracie even poked her little head up and looked at me all blinky-eyed like "What the....?"

I know, kiddo.  I know.

And there's not a darn thing we could do, but lay there and listen to the banging.  And the thudding.  And the nailing.  And the Spanish.  As I laid there, I thought of all the ways I could get back at the neighbors for being so rude.  But I mean, seriously, they have to get their new roof right?  It's not their fault roofing just happens to be annoying and stupid and LOUD.  And I can't get mad at the roofer dudes because they're just trying to get a paycheck.  Sigh. 

HOWEVER, that was their volume card for the year.  No more!  If at any point in the next year, I am woken up by loud noises from neighbor on the left, I am stealing their ladder.

The end.












Sunday, March 7, 2010

Quote...

"We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves."

-Henri Frederic Amiel

Saturday, March 6, 2010

500 Days of HOT....

Alright, movie star sighting.  Here we go...

(Before I begin, I would like to say that I am aware that it has been like 100 years since I first mentioned this, meaning it has pretty much lost all it's glitz and glamour and mystery and all that, so I have already prepared myself for your disappointment. The end.)

So, last week, I met up with 3 of my cousins for a girls' night of Mexican and Margaritas at my all-time fave Mexican restaurant downtown.  For reals, they have the BEST fish tacos you could ever even imagine eating. 

Fact: Cousin Val was seriously debating whether to get the Special of the Day - Flautas or go on my recommendation and get the fish tacos.  She decided on the flautas because "they're special for a reason."  Once the fish tacos showed up, I gave her a bite of them, and her eyes got huge and she said "Don't you hate that moment when you realize you ordered the wrong thing!" Mmm hmm, sure do. Those poor flautas were special no more. Moral:  Respect the fish taco.

We're waiting for our table buzzer thing to go off, and all of a sudden, Cousins Chelsea and Austin start whispering frantically and looking towards the door.  I tried to turn around to see what was so whisper worthy, and they both shriek/whisper "NO, DON'T LOOK!"  You know, because we're in high school and stuff.  Then Chelsea says "You know that guy from 500 Days of Summer?  He just walked in."  Then I said "SHUT UP OMG I LOVE HIM HE IS SO CUTE OMG YOU ARE LYING THAT WAS LIKE THE BEST MOVIE EVER ARE YOU SERIOUS CAN I TURN AROUND NOW OMG."

Do you know who I'm talking about?  Joseph Gordon-Levitt!  I've seen a bunch of his past stuff and sure, he's cute and all, but man, 500 Days of Summer?  He was so stinking cute in that movie that it effectively created a mega crush causing me to regress at least 15 years at the sight of him.  And I will tell you this:  homeboy is even better looking in person. (Also, how stinking cute was Zooey Deschanel in that movie?  Don't you just want to be BFF with her?)

So yeah, I turne around and there he was with two other dudes talking to the hostess.  Here, I took the liberty of creating an artistic re-enactment to better help you grasp what was happening.  But really,  I just wanted to cut and paste some things.

Look how close he was to us!  I mean, we're practically holding hands!  I guess the table wait was too long for them because they went right back outside.  Which coincidentally I had to do also to "take a call" on my cellphone.  (What did we do before cellphones really?  How did people successfully follow famous people without a cell phone to pretend talk on?) 

He and the two dudes with him were standing not far off (discussing topics such as how hot that girl on the cell phone is), and I realized he is kind of standing right in front of my car!  Right when I'm working out The Plan in my head about how I have to go get something out of my car or whatever and I will just casually be like "oh hey, I loved your last movie" and then he was going to be like "wow you're hair looks really amazing short like that, can I get your number, and do you have a dress to wear to the Oscars", Aussie came out to tell me our table was ready.  Darn it all to heck!  So because I am a good friend and didn't want to keep these girls waiting any longer for dinner than they already had plus I have a raging case of Chickenitis, I aborted The Plan and went in for fish tacos.

(Which were WAY better than those flautas.)

Friday, March 5, 2010

I must not understand time....

**Note:  I know you are all on pins and needles waiting to hear about the movie star that I saw across a crowded restaurant who subsequently fell head over heels in love with me and now I will be moving to Hollywood to live happily ever after until we split up in 10 months due to irreconcilable differences.  However, to effectively tell that story, artistic renderings are needed, and I have not completed them.  So just chill.  End note.**

So I get these emails from some beauty thing.  TotalBeauty or something to that effect.  I don't know, I signed up because they promised me free samples, and I am all about samples particularly of the free variety.  (Which I have gotten by the way.)

Anyway, the most recent one I got says "How to Look Gorgeous in Five Minutes.  It IS Possible."  Ladies, I think we can all agree that this is an intriguing statement.  Because I, for one, am a lazy busy girl, and the less time I can spend on the whole "gorgeous" process, the better.  Based on the information I am given in this title, I am thinking I'm about to get some awesome tips on how to simplify right?  Like warm a spoon in the microwave while you are brushing your hair and then spin 3 times to the right and voila!  Gorgeous!

Let me just share with you their FIVE MINUTES TO GORGEOUS! steps and then we will discuss:
  1. Apply foundation.
  2. Dot on concealer (if needed).
  3. Sweep on blush.
  4. Apply shadow and liner.
  5. Swipe on mascara.
  6. Tame your brows.
  7. Apply lipstick or gloss.
  8. Carry essential touch-up items.
....

Right?!  I'm counting 8 steps.  EIGHT!  In under 5 minutes.  That's like 35 seconds per step.  I need to know something very important here from you, dear friends.  If you can get your foundation on - smooth and even with no lines - in under 35 seconds, I am going to need you to please please share the secret.  Because that is Olympic level qualifying action happening there.

Is it just me or isn't this a full face of makeup?  Like complete with TAME YOUR BROWS.  Seriously, what the heck are you doing to your face that will take you 10-15 minutes when you can do the whole shebang in five minutes or less? 

I think we should all try it.  In the morning, set your timer for five minutes and see how far you can get using the steps above.  Let me know how it works out.  Thanks.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Getting better....

I just got the word that Grandma is doing better.  She did have a minor stroke but is now back to being awake and alert, so thank you Lord for that.  My dad said that she should be released in a couple of days so she can get back to home to her babies (the kitty cats).  Whew! 

I have some other stuff to tell you guys, like how I accidentally ate a bad potato (what is UP with potatoes these days, man?) and something else that I can't exactly remember at the time being but will inevitably pop back into my head while I'm driving and nowhere near a computer (it totally happens to you too right?).  But it'll have to wait a bit, because I can't talk right now because I have to finish packing up this destruction of a room I'm in.  Why am I packing?  Because I'm moving tomorrow.  Did I not tell you that?  Wow, okay yeah, we definitely have some stuff to talk about.  For now, I'm going to go down a handful of ibuprofen (cuz this headache is RAGING yo) and then it's pack city.  But we'll talk later.  Promise.

Jenny out.

***OH WAIT!!!! I remember what the other thing was!  But I'm not telling you now because I am all about anticipation and suspense and DRAMA!  Do you want a hint though?  I'll give you a hint.  It's about a movie star.  And that I saw him.  Up close and personal.  From about 15 feet away.  Chew on THAT for a bit why don't ya?  (Also, it wasn't Brad Pitt so you can calm down. Nor was it Clooney so we can just ahead and make our peace with that disappointment now.)  Ugh, ok, my head is pissed.  Gotta got get that ibuprofen now.  Later.***

EDIT: I am fully aware that Brad Pitt is looking especially goat-like these days, and honestly he's never really rocked my world anyway, even in the Thelma & Louise days, but it was the first name that popped in my head.  I just though we should clear that up.  Thank you for your time.

Not good....


My grandma on my dad's side has been in and out of the hospital lately, most recently from a rough bout of pneumonia I believe.  I'm not sure all of the details, but she was released on Monday.  Apparently, she was staying at a friend's house for whatever reason, and as of this evening, she was rushed back to the hospital because she became unresponsive.  She was getting a brain scan tonight I think so as of now it's just a waiting game to hear what's going on.

She lives in Ohio while I grew up in the South.  And although we don't see each other often, we are extremely close.  I know she's been sick, but to hear it be this serious pretty much freaks me out.  If you don't mind, would you say some prayers for my Grandma tonight?  I'm not ready to bear with the thought that she might not be with us much longer, so I'm praying hard for her to come out of this one ok.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Soooo.  Guess what I got to do yesterday?

Want a hint?


And that, my friends, would be SNOW!!!  Holla!

As of Monday night, the local weather guys were preaching snow for Tuesday, while all the non-weather guy people, who are familiar with their track record, were all "mmm hmm, sure dude, whatever you say."  And don't you know my sweet mom came in to wake me up at 8 am to tell me to go look out the window. 



Whaaaat?!  Y'all, this is central Texas I'm talking about here.  This?  Does not happen.  Or at least I've never seen it.  I grew up in southeast Louisiana where any "snow" that happened to fall usually melted before it hit the ground.  Since I've been in Texas, I've seen nothing but a couple of major ice storms, but none of this real snow.  This stuff was sticking yo.

Apparently, at the sight of snow, I immediately turn into a 5 year old.  This is fact.  Although I am at least a very mature 5 year old who knows the importance of dressing sensibly before running out in the backyard yelling SNOW! SNOW! SNOW!  I just thought that would be worth mentioning.  You guys, the flakes that were coming down were enormous!  I had no idea snowflakes honestly got that big.  It was like little snow hamsters falling out of the sky or something.  I'll let that visual sink in for a minute.

Related:  So it has pretty much always (for like a year) been my dream to get a white puffer jacket with a (faux) fur lined hood so I could pretend I was a snow princess while feeding an apple to a deer in the snowy mountains. Well, guess what I found at Ross for like $20?  Oh yes I did.  So of course, it was a snow princess day, although technically, I was supposed to have long hair , but I figured since I didn't have the deer, apple, or mountains, I could let the hair thing go. (Unrelated:  Also, I forgot to tell you last week, that I just cut all my hair off.  Seriously, like 6 inches or something.  It's madness down here I tell you!) Anyway, moving on...

This was the first time Gracie girl has seen real snow too.  Her first impression?:



She's a lady.  And was completely freaked out by all the cold stuff landing on her head.  Though with all that fur, I don't really think she knew it was cold.  All she knew was it was on here and please to make it stop.  Once she realized that whatever this stuff was got us all out in the yard (PLAY!), then she was just fine.  Oh man, and once the ball came outside too...forget it.  She was golden.



None of this winter wonderland business lasted of course.  It was back up to the upper 40's toady, so driving through the neighborhood today was like witnessing the March of the Dying Snowmen.  Seemed every yard had a melty, uneven, sad little man fading back into the mildness of a southern winter.  Hey, it happens.

So until the next snow day that I get to witness, enjoy some pics....




Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Whoa....

You guys.  I'm telling you this much:  You know how to make a girl's day.

I would like to offer a heartfelt welcome and thank you to all the new friends who have made their way over here in the past few days!  Mucho thanks to Kathryn over at From the Inside...Out and JD over at I Do Things So You Don't Have To for working some major P.R. for this little blog.  And secret P.R. at that.  You ladies are like blogging ninjas.  You could probably kill me with one keystroke with both hands tied behind your back right?

Man, this is exciting!  I feel so validated.  I mean, I'm not the only one who hates Coldplay?!  Who knew?!  It makes me happy to know that I've made you smile, so I hope you'll stick around for a bit.  I'll do my best to keep you entertained.

Here.  Have a cupcake as my thank you!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Annoyance #2398

Can someone PLEASE tell me why the cable channels think it's a good idea to play the same movie back to back, especially when said movie is not something awesome like Bring It On?  I really need to know.

Thanks.

Big Pimpin'....

Attention Internet!  Your vote is needed! 

Yes, I'm totally pimping my dog child out. :) Gracie's up for cutest pet ever in the whole world. It would mean alot to her if you'd vote for her. I think it'll be really good for her self-esteem if she wins, since she's really self-conscious abou the extra 30 lbs of fur she's put on since she's been groomed last. She's really starting to resemble a swiffer duster. But don't tell her I said that. :)


Feel free to send it out to everybody you know who will agree that she is a TEN! I guess that would be a 70 in dog years right?

To vote, click here.  No email address or registration or anything is needed.  Just a vote. :)
Thanks mucho!

"You're talking about my furnkles aren't you? It is not my fault my legs have disappeared entirely into the fur.  Hmph."

Klassy with a capital K....

I love music. LOVE it. LUV it. LUB it. LURVE it.  However, you want to LOLspeak, bottom line: Me + Music = Everlasting Happiness, forever and ever, till death do us part, amen.  Though I will pretty much listen to whatever music you put on (except Coldplay!  I hate Coldplay! Turn it off!), if I'm picking the tunes, I rarely listen to what I guess would be considered "grown up" music.  You know, stuff like the "classics," such as...well....um....okay honestly I can't even think of who I'm talking about, because that's just not usually the preset that I stop on while I'm scanning in the car.

No, I prefer the really deep profound stuff that makes you think.  The lyrics that really touch that part of your soul that felt all alone and now somehow comes to life with the realization that someone, somewhere, undertsands or something. Stuff like Miley Cyrus: "Cause all I see are stilettos, I guess I didn't get the memo."  Wow right?  Because I did not get the memo either and, it is, in fact, a party in the USA.

But I'm not here to talk about Miley.  I want to talk about new girl on the scene who is tearing it up or breaking it down or moving to the left, to the left, or whatever.  You know I'm talking about Kesha Ke$ha.  I have questions regarding Ke$ha and her songwriting team.  Let's discuss shall we?

Disclaimer:  I do not expect you to watch this video in its entirety.  In fact, I suggest you don't.  Because it is 3 minutes seconds of your life that you will never get back and honestly, I just don't think I can carry that on my conscience.  I can summarize it really quick for you:  She wakes up in a bathtub with one shoe on and then parties alot and then falls asleep in another tub with a different shoe on.  Klassy. The End. I only include the video in case you weren't entirely sure what song I was talking about and needed a listen.  And then you would be like OMG I LOVE THIS SONG and then we'd become BFF immediately because I KNOW RIGHT?!

Observe:



So what I want to know first is was there some sort of artistic statement being made about the bathtubs?  Such that she spends an awful lot of time in the bathtub, yet it is never for the tub's intended purpose?  Because clearly girlfriend is no stranger to odor.  It appears that she is, however, a stranger to soap.  Irony perhaps?  See how Ke$ha has us thinking?

And what about the whole typefont rebellion?  Using a $ instead of an S in her name!  Have you ever heard such madness?! No one can conform you to society, Ke$ha!  You will NOT be boxed in!  Also, please note that going forward, I will be known as Jenn!fer, as I, too, am a rebel.

Like her predecessor, Miley, Ke$ha is a lyrical trailblazer.  They are so advanced and beyond the scope of my limited reasonings, that I don't even know what the heck the girl is talking about.  For example:  "The dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger, but we kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger."

Mick Jagger?  Really?


So what you're saying to me is that when this dude rolls up:



And is all "'Sup boo?"  You're going to be like "Kick him to the curb!"  Whereas, I'm all "Call me!"

Let me make sure I'm understanding this correctly:


         Yes.                                                                              No.

See how she boggles the mind?