Be Love.

31 Days of Adventure: Day 8

2011-10-19T21:35:00.000-06:00

So, there are no pictures for this day of adventure, but it did involve epic garage sale-ing which resulted in a beach lounge chair for $2.00 and not a penny more! And then there was a righteous 2 hour nap followed by chips and salsa and fish tacos. I'd say Day 8 = Heck yes.

31 Days of Adventure: Day 7

2011-10-19T21:21:00.000-06:00

My mom busts rhymes about tacos. What does your mom do?

How to save a garden.

Yeah, I know. We're cute.

Oh, the confusion of it all!

Glamour Shots. Keepin' it real.

31 Days of Adventure: Day 6

2011-10-18T21:35:00.000-06:00

Road trip!

Road warrior.

Yes.

Texas wildfire devastation.

31 Days of Adventure: Day 5

2011-10-05T22:55:00.000-06:00

Looks like Adventure got over that little shy spell from yesterday because he was all up in my face all day today. Must be feeling more comfortable now that we are getting to know each other better.

Today included a long lunch break due to Customer Service Week (!!), which allowed me enough time to go home for a bit and do some laundry and some puppy hugging. I had a mucho productiv day at work, then afterwards, I speed erranded to get myself ready for a trip to Texas tomorrow. I tell you it is not easy to get packing and cleaning and laundry and preparing done when your dog insists on doing this...

You know that tummy is just begging to be scratched.

Today was a win in adventureness! Tomorrow starts 5 days of adventure in the Lonestar State.

Standby for awesome...

31 Days of Adventure: Day 4

2011-10-04T22:09:00.000-06:00

This whole adventure thing is turning out to be quite an interesting adventure in itself. Today's adventure was feeling a bit shy for most of the day. No matter how closely I looked and stopped to ponder, it just refused to show it's bashful little face. There were events and happenings, sure, but adventures? Psssh. Not even.

And you wouldn't even believe where that little sneaker turned up today. On Twitter. Right?! Who would think to look on Twitter for an adventure? But there it was all bright and beautiful staring back at me from the Blackberry while I waited in line at the grocery store.

Care to see it?

I have no words for the feelings I get when I look at this picture. One of my very bestest is playing this adventure game with me this month, and these are her beautiful kids. She posted this as her adventure today, and I realized how much I look forward to seeing what the day brought her. I was on Twitter for the sole purpose of seeing if she posted anything. I honestly felt excitement when I saw she did, and that's when I realized someone else's adventure was my own. Not because I was physically there, but because my heart was invested in it, fully present and experiencing this moment. Seeing this picture fills me with joy in ways that probably can't fully explained. In it, I see her dreams realized in a son and daughter and know that they have the greatest Mom and Dad that God could have ever picked for them. And because she is my soulfriend, her adventure is mine.

31 Days of Adventure: Day 3

2011-10-03T21:38:00.000-06:00

Well, no pictures because no camera AND no phone on the same day. But, I can tell you with my word pictures that the adventure of today began with a fat, rainbow-colored hot air balloon floating right above my office building. It was like going to work at Oz or something. You know, like, if Oz had hot air balloons or something. I didnt' really think that all the way through, but you know what I'm saying. So, hot air balloon!

Then, after getting my FREE breakfast for FREE breakfast day due to Customer Service Week(!), I found the tiniest grape ever in my FREE fruit. Tiny! Grape! Adventure!

Onward!

31 Days of Adventure: Day 2

2011-10-02T20:22:00.000-06:00

It started with dog hair and ended with a smooshy baby. Win!

31 Days of Adventure: Day 1

2011-10-01T17:41:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning to Autumn flashing her brilliant blue sky my way and letting loose those cooler temps that she's so famous for. She obviously put a lot of thought into her appearance today, and it would be rude of me not to show her some admiration. To the lake!

Say Cheese...

2011-08-23T14:17:00.000-06:00

Can we please talk about Taco Bell? And how sometimes I wish I was a taco just so I could marry a taco and have little tacos running around the yard to ensure that the taco legacy will live on forever? Okay, I admit that sounds much weirder when committed to the written word than it did when twisting and turning through my brain on the Thought Coaster, but do you see what I’m saying? And perhaps tacos and roller coaster analogies should never belong in the same sentence. Because all of a sudden, I am intensely nauseous, and also, I seem to have lost all sense of where I was going with this.

Reboot.

Okay, so, tacos. There is a new Taco Bell commercial that is killing me, y’all. I was going to go try to find it on YouTube and link and embed and all that, but really, I don’t think you care that much, so use your imagination muscles. It’s basically something about cheese, I think, and I don’t even know any more than that, except that there is nacho cheese pouring or something and then there are nachos and then more cheese pouring, and then I black out, and, when I come to, I am sitting at the coffee table with my face in a plate of everything Taco Bell. How does this happen is what I need to know? It’s like kryptonite, that commercial. It’s not even so much that I love Taco Bell, but more that I am mad, deep love with Taco Bell’s nacho cheese.

Which brings me to this past Saturday. The day my life was Changed.

I was cruising on down to the outlet mall to take advantage of a particularly substantial Gap Outlet coupon, when I remember there is a Taco Bell a couple blocks down from the mall. Woop! Now I know you’re all thinking “Girl, I know you are not going to eat Taco Bell before you go try on pants,” and while this is exactly the same thing I would think if the situation were reversed, my response to you is “Heck yes I am!”

Side note: I would like to take a minute right here to discuss with you the logistics of a Taco Bell drive-thru. Have y’all noticed that those things are like taco lockdown once you get in line? Like, there are usually curbs or a fence or some other obstacle on either side of the single lane, requiring some serious border commitment, because once you are in, you’re in. I guess the higher-ups know the reality of Taco Bell remorse and had to get serious to keep people from bailing after ordering when they realize what they’ve just done. I know you are relating to this.

The order I placed was (1) cheesy fiesta potatoes, (1) Mexican pizza, and (1) order of regular nachos with an extra side of cheese, please. The order I received was (1) cheesy fiest potatoes, (1) Mexican pizza, (3) regular tacos, (0) nacho chips, and (2) nacho cheeses. (Question: Does anybody else ever feel like they are playing taco roulette with Taco Bell drive thru? For real, the only constants in life are death, taxes, and Taco Bell will get your order wrong. I mean, right? And I know this could be resolved by double checking before I drive away, but really, where is the fun in that? This way you never know if you’ll have 12 regular tacos or one of those chalupa/gordita/burrito steak fiesta hybrid things. I mean, this is excitement, people!)

So I’m sitting here with all of this nacho cheese and no chips. Sadness ensues! But please, do not despair for me, because you know I’m about to eat that stuff straight out of the little container. I would use the spork, but it’s not like they gave me one, so just do not even get me started on that. While eating free taco numero uno (respect that espanol, homies!), I stare at the cheese. The cheese stares at me. And I swear, like heavenly divination, an idea descends upon me!

What if…

I dipped the taco…

INTO THE CHEESE?!

Right?! 30 years and it had never once occurred to me to pursue this! OF COURSE THE CHEESE SHOULD MARRY THE TACO!!! It’s so obvious! I have to say I kind of feel like my parents failed me here. (Mom, I will need you to meet me at therapy. K, thanks.) Do you SEE what happens when you do not check your Taco Bell order?! This is deep on so many levels.

So, pretty much, the point is that nacho cheese is like the color black, in that it goes with everything.

And, also, you should never eat Taco Bell before trying on clothes, especially if it is anything even remotely form-fitting.

The end.

Thoughts While Thinking**....

2011-08-02T14:30:00.000-06:00

So sometimes my mind wanders. I know this revelation is shocking unto you, but it is truth. And so because of all the wandering, I decided to take some notes so you could join me on this wanderation. I know, I know, you're welcome.

Behold:

*Isn’t it amazing how fast your favorite shirt can become your most annoying shirt? Because for real, I am about ready to take this thing off and set it on fire.

*Why are they called crocodile tears? Do crocodiles seriously cry that much? Or is it like because of how big you’re gonna cry when you see a crocodile coming at you?

*Don't you think that the true mark of being an adult is when you can finally tell the difference between the opening music to Wild Thing and Funky Cold Medina?

*Funky Comadina, anybody? Where were YOU when you realized that comadina is not a word? Did it just rock your whole belief system or what?

*I saw a lady mopping her house today. Not mopping the floor of her house. Mopping her actual house. Like the outside of it. I don't really have anything to say about that, but I just figured it's probably not something a girl should keep to herself. So, yeah.

*Why the heck do tape measures disappear the second you put them down? I measured my dresser, set the tape measure down, and I swear it took me a good 20 minutes to find it. I found it on the shelf in the hallway. When did I go in the hallway?!

And just for general informational purposes, I did not mean that list to turn out so Seinfeld-y, as in "what is the DEAL with crocodile tears?" But you know, things happen, so I think it's best we all just move one from it. Even though I don't think he's funny one bit, and CLEARLY, I am hilarious. So. Yeah.

**Let us all take a moment to recognize that my aunt is awesome because that's where Thoughts While Thinking came from. From her mind. Because she's awesome.**

Bugging Out...

2011-04-12T23:17:00.000-06:00

What do you call it when your worst fear comes true and you rise above it and save the world?

Because that totally happened to me tonight.

You know how grasshoppers are, like, totally the most freaky little things ever and sometimes they are huge and sometimes they FLY, like a demon from hell, and sometimes they call you really terrible things that hurt your feelings?

Yes, well, here begins our story.

I grew up in southeast Louisiana. The swamps, as some would call it. And while there are many, many, MANY wonderful things about Louisiana, there are also bugs. And people, let me just make this clear to you now: NO. Bugs are the bane of my existence (not counting girl-friendly ones such as lady and/or butter, obviously, because omg, so pretty!), and I cannot tell you how many times a roach (barf!) ran up my leg or flew across the room or made me speak in tongues. But I can tell you exactly how I reacted each time I laid eyes on one: DAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDD!!!!!! And because my parents are upstanding people, they only rolled their eyes and sighed heavily some of the time before they saved my life.

So, a year ago, when I loaded up my car and moved back home to Louisiana to live On My Own, I was facing one of my biggest fears: living without anybody to kill the bugs! It's Louisiana! Of course there are bugs! My dad-my hero, my knight in shining Raid- is 400 miles away! WHO WILL KILL THE BUGS?! Well, praise the Lord, the homeowner's association of this townhouse complex I'm in has THE most rockin' pest control ever to walk this Earth because in a year of living here? Not a single bug. (And yes, I am aware that because I typed that sentence, a roach will crawl across my face tonight while I sleep. Pray for me.)
\
A couple of days ago, I noticed, right outside my front door, a green grasshopper (uuuggghhhaccckk!). Surprisingly, it was very polite and did not verbally abuse me nor did it attempt to end my life. Southern hospitality, indeed! I quietly went inside so as not to disturb this newcomer, and I certainly didn't want it to mistake any sudden moves as an act of war. Because if there is one thing I know, it is DO NOT POKE THE LION!

Day 2 morning rolls around and on my way out the front door to walk Gracie girl, it seems The Newcomer had made its way in between my front door and the storm door. Uuuuugggghhhhhh! Nooooo! Too much, too fast, sir! I wanted to shoo it, but then there was the chance that it would jump (uggghack!) in my direction and this was just an entirely unaccpetable option unto me. So I just closed the door again slooowly praying to high heavens that it didn't get smashed because holy pepto, if that doesn't make a girl's stomach turn, I don't know what will.

Here we are at Day 2 evening, out strolling with my little fur baby in the beautiful springtime air. My mind starts to wander to the awesome bowl of strawberries I'm about to make with just a bit of sugar on top, when I pull open the storm door, and that little FREAK SHOW is just chilling on the threshold between storm door and real door. Waiting for me. Uuuuuggghhhack! BAAAARF! What do you want from me?!

Gracie is almost through the door when that little sucker jumped (I blacked out.), and Gracie, who is SO not a lady, goes after it with canine teeth flying. Huuggghhhhaaack! I tried to rush her through the door because omg it's outside it's outside it's outside let's go in! That thing apparently becomes possessed with everything that is evil and unholy and FLIES INTO MY HOUSE!!!

DAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDD!!!!!

Well, my sweet little baby loves her Mama so much that she launches forward into the living room after it, and throws herself right on that live grenade. I yelled "Get it!" Chomp! (BARF!) My mind starts racing at how this is now going to play out. "Let her eat it! No, gross, you're going to have hopper parts everywhere!" As it turns out, Gracie does not know the difference between "Get it!" and "Kill it and then take it outside!" because of COURSE she let it go and I had to watch it try to figure out what the heck just happened. And omgomgomgomgomgomg if there is a leg on my floor... (BAAAAARFFFFUUGGGHACCCK!)

It is at this very moment when clarity sets in. The Felon (breaking and entering = felony) is sitting in stunned stillness. Gracie is staring at it, daring it to move. I've got to the get this thing out. It getting eaten is just...well, that's a dark place that my mind cannot go to. Dreams die there. I grabbed Gracie's leash and steered her away from her prey, then put her in the bathroom to stay out of the way. (Also, she did not bark even once while in that bathroom, which, anybody who has ever met that animal will tell you, is a miracle in itself. It's as if she knew she were witnessing something intense.) I ran to the kitchen to assemble my [secret but awesome name redacted so that you can't steal it] kit.

I put a glass over him then slowly slid a piece of mail or something underneath the cup so he was all up in there. And y'all, homeboy just walked right up into the cup and was all on the side of it and I could see it through the glass and then I aged 10 years and will now never know what my 30's would've been like. After a good bit of dry heaving and omgomgomgomg-ing, I made it out the front door. Well, dude liked the glass so much he wouldn't GET OUT OF IT, so I had to shake it and his creepy exoskeleton clanked against the inside of the glass (THUNK!) on his way out and then I died and came back as an angel to tell the story and probably haunt you some, too. because that would be funny.

All Aboard the Brain Train!...

2011-04-11T12:00:00.000-06:00

First stop...RandomTown!

Geez.

That opening sentence annoys me in ways that I'm not sure I could actually explain; however, this week has been H-E-Doublehockeysticks, and I really just don't care to think of anything better. Let me know if you come up with anything. I won't change it because of all the not caring, but I do promise to admire your cleverness in my mind. So.

Moving on.

Let's do bullets, yeah? Yeah!

How exactly is "yeah" supposed to be spelled anyway? When used in "yes" context, I mean, and pronounced "yahyuh" minus the Lil' Jon. (HUH?! WHAAT?! You know what I'm saying.) Anyway, is it "yeah" with an h, or "yea" without an h, which I would pronounce "yay!" as in "Yay!" Help me, internet.
Why isn't blogger letting me line space between my bullets?! This is making me claustrophobic. Hold please, while I work on this technical issue....
Be the bullet.
Arrggh. Fine. Single space. Whatever.

Let's just do numbers, yeah? Yea(h)!

I can't decide which makes me happier: when my dog stands in the corner and throws up on the curtains, or when she takes her fresh-out-of-the-bath-wet-dogness and lays right on top of my latest load of clean laundry. Can you see why this would cause inner conflict?
Oh dear betsy, now it's not line spacing between numbers. HTML, you are ON MY LIST!

But let me ask you this, do you also have a hard time focusing on anything work-related when you know you have a zit on your forehead? The kind you can totally feel, and seriously, how does it hurt like that, when you can't even really see it? So you get your compact mirror that you keep in your top desk drawer for emergencies such as this, but that doesn't really stand on it's own so you lay it flat on the desk? And then you sort of hang your head over it at an angle so you can see The Offender appropriately to determine how best to proceed? But then it turns out, you can't see anything at all because your head is now in between the mirror and the light source, not unlike some sort of Lunar Blemish Eclipse? Does this happen to you? No? Yeah, me neither.

*ahem*

Are we having fun here or what? The Brain Train is clearly a speeding bullet train that offers no warnings of upcoming stops and/or starts so really it's best to just stay seated and buckled in. I guess this is somewhat like the Thought Coaster, but really, have you had enough of my analogies yet?

Just one last thing before I let you go: I kind of hate it when there are toast crumbs in the tub of butter. It totally weirds me out.

The end.

Insomnia and Some Other Such Somethings. Or Whatever.

2011-03-15T02:38:00.002-06:00

So.

Insomnia.

I mean, so what if the alarm is going off in 3 hours and 9 minutes? Who needs to sleep? All I know is I've been laying waiting for Tired to show up like 7 years now, and still, nothing doing. And then I thought "Stretching!" because stretching helps a whole heck of a lot when you're feeling all cranky and creaky and insomniac-y. So I stretched. And while I had my left ankle on my right knee stretching out those glutes, I glance at my ankle and thought "Cankle!" And then I had a panic attack or 7 because hello, wouldn't you? Turns out it's not really a cankle situation, so much as it is a swollen ankle situation. Which is still kind of alarming considering there is no logical reason for it to be swollen. Well, that thought train turned into an extensive search for the bug bite that I most certainly had because hello, look at it!

Y'all, let me just tell you this: The human body is kind of rad. Because apparently when one's 30 year old body is confronted with the choice of sitting up to look for a bug bite on one's swollen cankle ankle at 3 am or remaining in a horizontal position and looking for a bug bite on one's cankle ankle, I'll be danged if one won't be able to stretch that cankle ankle all the way up to one's face to give it a looksie! Tired + cranky + possible epidermal violation = mad bending skillz, yo. Math is math, people.

Anyway, so somewhere in that whole cankle/not cankle time of my life, my thought sparkles sparked "Blog!" Because there is nothing more that people love to read than incoherent thoughts of a bendy insomniac, amiright? I know I'M clicking on that link, so, you know, there's that. Oh, but what happened was Brain said " Blog!" and then I had a rapid fire idea fest where I came up with all kinds of witty things to tell you. And clearly you can tell how that movie ended. I do know it had something to do with my laptop not working correctly, and how I can only open it to approximately a 45 degree angle before the screen goes black. Which means I can only use my laptop when I'm lying down, which, in turn, means it's hyper annoying to try to type numbers of any sorts because of that whole "lacking a 10-key" thing and then I have to crane my neck up all awkward-like to use those number keys at the top that nobody ever uses or remembers are there. So I guess whatever I thought about to tell you required numbers? Weird, right? Especially considering I did some mind-blowing numberless math not one paragraph ago.

Good gravy, people, are you even still around listening to this? What am I even going on about? This is like the Seinfeld of posts. It's a blog about NOTHING! (Please tell me you get that reference. Because otherwise a certain younger brother of mine will not rest until you get it. So.)

Note to self: When you are insomniating, you get hungry at about 3:15 a.m. And you know what else you get at 3:15 a.m.? Tired! I know, right?! Win!

Oh, and while we're on the subject, can we all please please please agree to stop saying "Just sayin'"? Because really, most of you aren't using it in proper context anyway, so it's really just kind of annoying. Especially when it's used after every single thing you "just said." We know you're "just sayin'" because you JUST SAID IT. I don't know. It just seems to me that the whole eventual breakdown of society is hinging on this phrase. Well, that phrase and rompers. And taking pictures with kissy lips and peace signs. Because really? Are we still doing that? The answer is no.

Alright dudes, I think the ride on this thought coaster is over. Disappointing, I know. There were some thrills in there with some loops you weren't expecting, and in the end, you probably feel a little nauseous, but deep down, you know you'd ride it again. Until next time, your homework assignment is to come up with a really cool name for the Thought Coaster. Make it really amusement parky!

You know you love me.
xoxo,
Gossip Girl

And P to the S:

Hollerrrrr!

All the Rage...

2011-01-17T11:22:00.001-06:00

This post is about underwear.

And garage sales.

And cold.

But mostly, it's about underwear.

Last Saturday, I hauled boxes of my ~~crap~~ stuff over to my friend Annie's house for The Great Purge Garage Sale of 2010. It was 39 degrees outside. And I know all you northern folks totally just rolled your eyes because really? 39 degrees? But, yes, 39 degrees. I am from the South, and 39 degrees is considered COLD especially during that first cold snap when our humidity sensors haven't acclimated yet. It was cold, and also, it was pretty early. I don't get nice until at least 9 am, so I was still making my grumpy faces when I pulled into Annie's driveway. And now that I've typed all that, I really don't know why that has any relevance at all except that I probably just wanted you to feel sorry for me, in my tired, cold state. Or something.

During the Belongings Exfoliation of 2010, I realize I had this whole big box of underwear that I no longer wear but that was still in really good shape (I had a shopping problem once. Darn you Victoria's Secret and your Semi-Annual Sale!)(Also, it's totally weird to say your underwear is in good shape, yes?) Now, I myself am not a secondhand underwear buyer. The thought of it FREAKS. ME. OUT. But hey, some people don't have a problem with it, and also Goodwill sells underwear so it must be ok, right? I texted Annie:

Me: Do people buy underwear at garage sales?
Annie: Idk, worth a shot if you ask me.

Settled.

One of our first few customers was a rugged looking dude, who, when I first saw him, I assumed was looking for tools. Or broken lawnmowers. Or socks. Because that's what the rugged dudes come to garage sales for, you know. He picks up a few things to buy, then spots the box 'o' underwears.

"I don't mean this to be embarrassing," he says. "But what size is the underwear?"

Me thinking: Cha-Ching!

I told him what sizes most of them were, and after a short discussion about what size jeans his lady friend wears, I told him I didn't think they'd fit her. He said ok, paid for the other stuff, and went on his way.

Important note to the fellas: Do NOT buy your lady person underwear at a garage sale. She can buy it herself at a garage sale if she chooses, but do not, under any circumstances, bring it home to her. The only exception is if you have detailed instructions where she specifically states, "If you see underwear at a garage sale, please buy it for me." This is NOT the same as "I need new underwear." PLEASE make note of this. You will thank me.

A lady showed up and sat down next to the box and looked at every single pair, like she was shopping that Semi-Annual Sale. She walked away with 11 pair by the time she was done. Another lady snagged one pair and several more asked about sizes. People, underwear sells at garage sales! I mean, can you get over this?

After we've been out there about 3 hours, Rugged Dude from earlier comes back. I see him walking up the driveway like he's on a Rugged Dude Mission. "He's coming back for the underwear," I said to Annie, laughing. He glanced over everything on the driveway that he already looked at 3 hours earlier and says, "I was on my way home and thought I'd see if y'all put anything else out."

Me: (thinking) Liar. You want panties.

About the same time, there was a lady browsing who was sorting through the boxes of clothes, which were directly next to the underwear box. Rugged Dude is all randomly picking up items and pretending he's so very interested, but his eyes keep darting to the side, waiting for the lady to step away from the unmentionables. She then starts looking through the underwear, talking about how she is going to get some for her granddaughters. (Grandmothers: The secondhand-underwear-buying-for-others rule applies to you too. As in: Don't.) Rugged Dude's face gets tense and, trying to be all nonchalant, he says, "Oh yeah, that's what I was coming back for, too."

Me: (thinking) Mmm-hmm. Told you.

We all sort of chuckled because, oh well, you can't slack when it comes to garage sale bargains, homeboy. Everybody knows that. Underwear-Buying-Lady (UBL) dumps the whole box on the table and says, "I'll just take them all." Rugged Dude gets all antsy and asks if she's sure she's buying them all, to which she replies that she is. He stomps off down the driveway, jumps in his car, and PEELS OUT while speeding off! Seriously! Reckless underwear deprivation driving in full effect y'all.

The three of us looked at each other.

Me: Uhhh....
Annie: That wasn't normal right?
UBL: Uh, no. That wasn't normal.

About 5 minutes later, as we stood chatting and I bagged the stuff she bought, RUGGED DUDE CAME BACK! He pulled his beater up in front of the house and barrels up the driveway with a wad of cash in hand.

Rugged Dude: Ma'am. Are you sure you're going to buy all of them?
UBL: (slightly dumbfounded) Yes, I am.

There is a slight air of What The Heck now floating about. Rugged Dude looks at me. I look at Rugged Dude.

RD: And that's all you have?
Me: Yes, that was it.
RD: I'll give you $10 for the whole box!

Dude. I can't make this stuff up.

Me: ......
Annie: ......
UBL: ......
Me thinking: ......
Me: I'm sorry, but I already sold them to her.

*Tension*

He wheels around and storms back down the driveway in an underwear fueld rage, and again, peels out. Now help me understand this: Does the peeling out help you cope in some way? Because it's not like I'm about to chase you down the street and change my mind because you were clearly upset enough to PEEL OUT AT A GARAGE SALE!

And y'all, it's not even over! He drove by TWO MORE TIMES glaring at us. Freak me out, why don't ya? The second time he drove by, the Underwear Buying Lady was gone, and since I'm pretty sure that's who he was looking for, that was the end of it.

Moral of the story: Let Goodwill take care of the underwear selling.

Words of Wisdom #467...

2010-11-27T18:30:00.000-06:00

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.

3 Years....

2010-11-24T20:24:00.000-06:00

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.

Simple Mind, Simple Pleasures...

2010-11-22T16:24:00.000-06:00

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...

2010-11-22T11:49:00.000-06:00

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.

Whole Living...

2010-11-20T22:29:00.002-06:00

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

And the title goes here...

2010-11-08T16:36:00.001-06:00

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.

No Main Idea...

2010-10-05T15:02:00.000-06:00

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?

Some things....

2010-09-03T09:58:00.000-06:00

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.

5 years later....

2010-08-29T23:24:00.000-06:00

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...

2010-08-29T22:48:00.001-06:00

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...

2010-08-29T22:46:00.000-06:00

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...

2010-08-29T22:44:00.000-06:00

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...

2010-08-29T22:40:00.000-06:00

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.

I used to be a blogger once....

2010-07-09T10:32:00.000-06:00

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,

The Rest of the Story...

2010-04-28T00:33:00.000-06:00

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.

Welcome Wagon...

2010-04-08T20:17:00.000-06:00

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

It's the highlight of my day. :)

It is well with my soul...

2010-04-02T22:54:00.001-06:00

Or more specifically:

Know what I mean?

I was never here....

2010-03-28T13:35:00.000-06:00

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.**

Titled Two Days Later...

2010-03-24T00:01:00.001-06:00

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.

For the Inquiring Minds....

2010-03-23T11:00:00.000-06:00

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.

Geez Louise...

2010-03-17T01:06:00.000-06:00

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.

Zen....

2010-03-11T00:12:00.000-06:00

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.

Quote...

2010-03-07T08:43:00.000-06:00

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

-Henri Frederic Amiel

500 Days of HOT....

2010-03-06T16:46:00.001-06:00

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.)

I must not understand time....

2010-03-05T17:34:00.000-06:00

**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:

Apply foundation.
Dot on concealer (if needed).
Sweep on blush.
Apply shadow and liner.
Swipe on mascara.
Tame your brows.
Apply lipstick or gloss.
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.

Getting better....

2010-02-26T16:29:00.001-06:00

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....

2010-02-26T01:16:00.000-06:00

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.

2010-02-25T00:49:00.000-06:00

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....

Whoa....

2010-02-24T00:10:00.000-06:00

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!

Annoyance #2398

2010-02-21T22:03:00.000-06:00

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'....

2010-02-21T17:32:00.000-06:00

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....

2010-02-21T14:56:00.001-06:00

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?

Back up off...

2010-02-19T00:23:00.002-06:00

Okay, I am a total chick. Which means, of course, that I don't do bugs. At all. Unless it's of the lady or roly poly variety. Or a butterfly, but I mean duh, did I really need to say that? But other than that, no, get them away from me and away from you and away from anywhere that I'm going to be ever in my life ever please and thank you.

Just because I don't like them, doesn't entirely mean I'm scared of ALL of them. I'm scared of ALOT of them, but not ALL. Like spiders for example. (Look, I'm sorry. I know half of you just started squealing and covering your ears and maybe even dry heaving. But it is important that we talk about it right now ok? I will pay for your therapy. You're fine.) Spiders don't usually bug me (ha! pun!) too much. As long as it can respect my personal bubble and it isn't over what normal standard spider size should be (1 mm), then we'll be alright.

Point: There has been a spider on my ceiling for the past several days. I don't even know how long it has been honestly because he has just been that nice of a roomguest. He has been waaaay over there along the edge on the ceiling and that's where he stays. He wanders of to this other corner that is a bit closer to me, but I forgive him because he's proven himself to be trustworthy.

Important sidenote: I know you're probably wondering why I'm just letting this spider roam around freely and all. I understand your point of view. But the thing is? He's on the ceiling. And I'm not ceiling height, which means I can't reach him. And I can't tell by looking at the little sucker that he's a jumper. He just is. I have a spidey sense (PUN!) about things like this. If I mess with him, the odds of him ending up ON ME are greatly increased, and well, that's just not something I'm willing to live with. So he's been here on probation.

Until right now, this very minute, real time, as it's happening, live.

He's almost directly over my bed. And people, please hear me when I say, NO! Not ok! Personal space VIOLATED!!! I mean check out how rude this guy is:

What. Do. I. Do?!?! I'm convinced he's moving closer to me. Like I haven't seen him move or anything, but I'm pretty sure he's crittering closer to me when I look away. Oh gag y'all. We were doing just fine when he was way over there on the wall where I never go (His name is Hank btw). Oooooooh, he moved. Okay. Oh man, and he's smart too! He's just enough behind the fan blades that I can't throw anything. Oh oh oh! I have one of those computer air duster thingys. I could shoot that air at him and maybe he'll fall (or jump! BARF!)

Okay, I gotta do something here. I will not sleep knowing he is over my bed watching me with all those eyes. EWWWW GAG OMG WHY DID I EVEN SAY THAT?! *HEAVE* I'm doing this. Hang tight...please don't go anywhere. I need you.

Hold please.....

Um.

You guys?

I hit him with the broom as a last resort. And, uh, well, now I don't know where he is. Remember that I told you he was awfully close to the bed? You don't think he's on my bed right? I mean, I shook out the sheets and pillows a bit and brushed my hair and changed my shirt. So surely he's not in my bed/hair right? Right. Wait, I'm right, right? You know, now that I think about it, the couch in the living room all the way at the other end of the house is pretty comfortable. Plus spiders are allergic to couches right? Yeah I'm pretty sure I read that in my imagination that one time. So I'm good.

Addendum:

I have good news and bad news.

The good news: I found it, him, Hank, whatever.

The bad news:

Yes, that is my cup of water.

Let's never speak of this again.

Dude, I don't even know...

2010-02-18T00:50:00.002-06:00

Thank you Google images for providing the visual aid for this presentation.

Y'all. Can we please talk about this? Have you seen it yet? No, you haven't? Well, let me just say RUN! Run as far from this movie as you can. Do not look back, even when you remember Topher Grace is in it and ohmygosh, don't you just love Topher Grace? I need you to trust me here. And more importantly YOU need you to trust me here.

I saw it tonight, and...just...wow. I have sooo many questions. First of all, what the? And also huh? And maybe some are you kidding me with this? But most of all, I need to know WHY? Can someone please enlighten me here? I just need to know. Was it just an idea thrown together over a night of one too many cocktails? Like "Oh hey, how many Big Name Actors do you think we can get into one movie?" I just cannot understand how so many actors who have done some pretty nice work previously, seem to have lost all ability to act like a character. It was painful. And loooong. Like over two hours long. (!!!) And the chemistry? What chemistry? Have these people even met each other ever before filming this scene? I just do not understand.

Now don't get me wrong. I can't discount the entire thing. Ashton Kutcher is in it, after all. And say what you want about him but you cannot deny the fact that he is one good looking dude. I could watch the guy eat cereal for two hours and be just fine. Also, Jennifer Garner. Adorable. But that's an awful lot of weight for those two pretty faces to carry around. I can't help but feel so sorry for all the boyfriends/husbands/men in the life of the girls who you KNOW were all SQUEE! It's Valentine's Day! Oooh honeykins, let's go see the movie! That's just straight up cold of those producers/directors/writers/whoevers to do that to these guys.

So. My recommendation to you is this. Avoid it at the theater Just save your $100 for the movie ticket, and wait for it on DVD. Or even better, wait until it shows up on TBS on some random Saturday afternoon when you had no intention of getting out of your stretchy pants anyway. That's the way to roll with movies like this.

Of course, you know I'll probably end up buying it when it hits the Wal-Mart $5 bin.

What?

I told you Ashton Kutcher was in it.

Shout out to Bing on this one for representin'

Quote...

2010-02-17T02:51:00.000-06:00

“That thing, that moment, when you kiss someone and everything around becomes hazy and the only thing in focus is you and this person and you realize that that person is the only person that you’re supposed to kiss for the rest of your life, and for one moment you get this amazing gift and you want to laugh and you want to cry because you feel so lucky that you found it and so scared that that it will go away all at the same time.”
--Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed

I Know Who Killed Me....

2010-02-17T02:43:00.000-06:00

It was a potato. A mean, angry, merciless red spud that did me in. I will warn you that this particular story might be a little on the EWWW side, and I am sorry to share such horrible things with you, but I can't get through this alone.

Let me just say up front, to eliminate any confusion later, I love potatoes. L-O-V-E them. Thanks to their consistent yumminess, mixed with their cheapness and ability to keep me full, they are a staple in my (often daily) diet.

So. Last night, I wanted to make some cheese potatoes. (Boil some red potatoes, drain, butter, melt cheese slices on top, yum, trust.) While choosing my potatoes from the Potato Bowl, I noticed one of them had this (GROSS ALERT!) black, clustery gross thing happening on it.

Me: EWWWWW! I think this one has eggs on it! Or is it just foaming?

Mom: I think it's foam.

Me: Touch it.

She totally touched it! Blech! And lucky for her, it was foam, because y'all, what if it had been foamy EGGS?! GAG!

Mom: It's fine. Just rinse it off.

(Ok, keep in mind that my senses were all hypersensitive from being all grossed out from the foam and all, plus mom was still in egg mode.) I rinsed the potato and grabbed a towel to make sure the foam was all gone. As soon as I put even the slightest pressure on that spot on the potato to dry it, my finger breaks right through the potato into it's mushy rotten spot and white, starchy potato guts came shooting out at me. My response? Scream like a little girl, throw that potato, and RUN! My mom's response? Scream like a grown up and RUN! She took off down the hall, and after I recovered from my near fatal laughing hysteria, I found her hiding in my bedroom afflicted with the very same hysteria.

Apparently she thought a critter of some kind jumped out at me in defense of the hypothetical eggs, while I just heard that awful popping noise of the exploding potato. Oh my gosh, it was just gross, although it's good to know where our Fight or Flight response stands. Flight all the way.

Stop Looking at Me Swan...

2010-02-10T00:36:00.000-06:00

I had to go downtown to run a few errands today. Because the weather decided to be especially beautiful today, I took Gracie girl with me so we could walk around the lake while we were out. She's a bundle of energy, but she's gotten really out of shape since her recent surgery lockdown. So Fatty Fat Fat and I set out on the 4 mile trek, and let me tell you this: COLD. C-O-L-D. What the freezing is this all about? I knew it was cool, and I came prepared with a hoodie and scarf, but dang! Not even 20 paces and my ears were frozen. Meanwhile, Fur Coat is trotting along beside me just happy as she can be sniffing the air like it's the first time she's ever smelled it.

I had my camera with me today with the intention of taking pics of this beautiful pair of swans that lives on the lake. I sat on the first rocky area we came to which led down into the water. Gracie hopped around on a few of them, then decided rocks were the scariest thing she'd ever come across and tried to go the other direction. Uh, no go kiddo, we're sitting here and you will like it. We did sit there. She did not like it. I guess this was a known feeding spot because those two swans spotted us from waaaay over there and glided right up like they had been waiting all day (I forgot to bring the bread, darnit!) Turns out swans are a bigger threat than rocks so Gracie stepped up to protect the rocks she was afraid of. My little warrior.

They gracefully swam away in terror. Or indifference. Whatever.

Once we got around to the other side of the lake, we met up with our fancy friends again, along with a huge flock of ducks. I sat on one of the big rocks and lifted Gracie down to the lower rocks for her to investigate. As I'm putting her down, I hear "Hhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." (That's a hissing noise by the way.) I turn around to see Mrs. Swan with her gaze locked on Gracie and her mouth all wide open HISSING! Okay, on one hand it was completely funny because omg, a hissing swan. But on the other hand, OMG A HISSING SWAN! (When I was 6, I tried to feed an animal cracker to a swan just by holding it in my fingers, but instead the swan totally tried to eat ME instead and bit me. It hurt!)

This man jogs by with his lab and says "Hey, those swans will attack your dog. Mine's 10 times the size of yours, and they knocked her right out of the water." Whoa. UFC swans. Who would have guessed?

Of course Gracie was completely oblivious to the fact that I was back fighting off ninja swans to keep them from eating her. She has busy trying to sniff pigeons and couldn't be bothered with all that swan drama. I mean, really. Pssshhh.

Aside from battling frostbite and scorned lady swans, we had a really nice walk, and I know it was healthy for both of us to get out and about. A 4 mile walk and a few sprints up some hills, and both of us got a really good workout. Mark this one down as a great day. :)

Help me internet....

2010-02-05T00:42:00.000-06:00

I recently bought a new bag-o-socks from Wal-Mart. Six pair for $5. Score!

Here's where I'm stuck. They were in a resealable bag. Wha? Can anyone think of any reason that a person would need their SOCKS in a bag that reseals? Because I got nothing.

I can think of reasons why a person may want to keep them in this bag, but no reason why resealability would be necessary.

Thoughts?

A quote...

2010-02-05T00:35:00.000-06:00

“The only reason I don’t let you go is because you said you would always be there.
No matter how many days pass, I wait for you to come right back through that door.

If you never meant it, you shouldn’t have said it.
You may no longer always be here but your words will never leave me.”

via Boy Meets Love

Rock it out...

2010-02-02T23:36:00.000-06:00

March 2009

So I've been in Louisiana the past few days. Long story that I'll tell you another time, but the main idea is I'm staying with my BFF, Shara, and her hubs, George, back in LA where I grew up. Some mutual friends (Amanda and TJ) of all of ours live just down the street or around the corner or something, so tonight they came over for dinner to visit before I head back to the TX. George made some rocking cheeseburgers, and Shara made yummy brownies for dessert. (win-win!)

After a dinner of magic cheeseburgers, we decided to play some Guitar Hero. Well, I use "we" as a very loose term. Technically, Shara decided we should play Guitar Hero, because Amanda and I chose to make Shara choose the game. I've only played Guitar Hero (actually, it was Rock Band) once before in my life, and truly? It changed me. Forever. (Please see pic above.) I was visiting friends in Virginia Beach and Kris (left) had just gotten it for her birthday. Needless to say, we represented. No one has every committed themselves to Rock Band the way we did that weekend. We were golden.

This is exactly why this girl is my friend for life.

So tonight when Shara mentioned Guitar Hero, I was in. Sure, I've played this before. It's just like Rock Band, and I think we can all agree that I was created to play Rock Band. Bring. It On.

First up was The Joke by The Steve Miller Band, and surprisingly, these lovely group of people suggested I sing. Me. Sing. This is amazing for 3 reasons: (1) I am not good. At all. (2) Shara regularly tells me to not sing, which I regularly IGNORE, and (3) I was not allowed to sing during above mentioned Rock Band party (see reason #1). So getting the mic this go around was the highlight of my life. And let me just tell you...I. Nailed. It. 96% my friends! 96!!! I mean, who even does that? That means I hit 96% of the notes. What that means exactly, I have no idea, but I know it's good even if my voice isn't! To all the haters, I have one thing to say: Boo. Yah.

Since there were 5 of us and only 3 instruments, after each song, we rotated right. Next up for this rock star? The drums. You guys? I LOOOOVE the drums. Love them with my whole heart and soul. It has been a lifelong dream to play. So Bon Jovi kicks on and the band plays and I kid you not, within like 4 lines of the song, the band "loses" thanks to who? The drummer. Which is me. Gah. Okay, let's try one more time. Here comes Bon Jovi. Shara is rocking the guitar. Amanda is singing her heart out. Drums kick in. Fail. TWICE! The game gave up on me (Hi Kathryn!). I slowly slid that drum set right back over to TJ who was owning it before I got my hands on it. They finished it in style.

On the Road Again by Willie Nelson. Instruments move to the right so I'm on guitar. I got this. I can do guitar. Observe:

Music kicks in. Drummer is drumming. I start what I believe is about to be one amazing performance. I'm pushing red, green, red, green, yellow...and nothing is happening. Silence from the guitar. George says "You gotta strum Jenny!" Oh right. This little bar thing over here. So I have to do one thing with my left hand, and something else entirely with my right? Not my strongest quality. So I'm strumming and hitting buttons and things are just going downhill fast, when all of a sudden - FAIL. Geez Guitar Hero, is there no learning curve here or what? When the whole game gives up because of your lacking button pushing strumming skills, it's just not good.

Dude, whatever. Where are those dessert brownies? The brownies never give up on you. And you know what? I will never give up on the brownies.

Happy 101....

2010-01-31T23:40:00.000-06:00

What a wonderful surprise! My dear bloggy friend Lise at Every Last Drop awarded me with this fantastic Happy 101 award. And get this? The acceptance directions involve list making! Lists! Is there anyone who does not LOVE a good list? I think not.

So here we go. Presenting the Jenny's Top Ten Things That Make Me Happy List:

Animals. I'm happier laying around on the floor with a stinky, dirty dog than I am all fancy hanging out with people.
Knowing I made someone smile or brightened their day in some way.
Letting the people in my life know how much I love and adore them.
Yoga pants.
Potatoes.
Dancing until all hours of the night to my favorite songs with my favorite girls.
Finding the shirt I've been shop stalking on clearance for under $5.
Singing loud in my car.
Realizing that someone really, truly gets me.
Big, noisy thunderstorms.

I think today I will spend some time cuddling with a sweet dog. And maybe make some potatoes for lunch. :)

What things make you happy?

Stupid, Annoying Bones....

2010-01-15T21:15:00.000-06:00

I would just like to say that if I see the trailer for The Lovely Bones one more time, something bad is going to happen. I mean, seriously? Is every. single. commercial break. really necessary? After a certain point, I just cannot be held accountable for my actions.

That is all.

Behold the awesome...

2010-01-08T23:49:00.000-06:00

In case I've not mentioned it before, I come from quite a musical family. I grew up to the sounds of my dad's acoustic strumming away in the background of our everyday life. My brother turned out to be a natural talent as well and has been part of a few bands. Once we moved to Austin, my dad joined a band as well and now rocks the rhythm guitar for an awesome local band. Several extended family members play guitars, drums, etc. so family functions are known to include spontaneous jam sessions. It is absolutey fantastic, and I owe my complete obsession and need for music to being surrounded by it my whole life. Now, granted, the talent apple skipped this particular branch altogether, but I can certainly appreciate other people's talent.

Anyway, I tell you all this because I thought you might like a vid of my dad and bro jamming on Christmas. I know I'm a little biased, but I think it's really great. Makes me happy every time I watch it. I don't think I need to point out who is who. :) Behold:

Quote of the Day...

2010-01-08T12:19:00.000-06:00

Did y'all see the article about the parents who were arrested for giving their kids tattoos at home? Apparently, these two tatted up parents thought it would be an okay idea to give six of their kids (all under the age of 18 mind you) tattoos from a homemade tattoo gun. I will say that again. HOMEMADE tattoo gun. Are you following me here? According to the article, they used "electrical cord, spliced wiring, and a guitar string for a needle." ACK! Guitar string?! Okay, here's the thing. I have seen a zillion guitar strings, and probably as many tattoos, but I have never (NEVER!) put the two together. Ever. How do you even get there, is what I want to know?

PARENTING AWARD WINNER #1: Baby, I been thinking. Know what our kids need?

PARENTING AWARD WINNER #2: What's that baby?

PAW#1: Tats

PAW#2: Best idea you've had since you served ham for breakfast! (ed. note: which should've been the first red flag. Ham? Is ALWAYS wrong. It just is.) Too bad we don't have a tattoo gun.

PAW#1: Aw heck, we can make one of them. Go look in that box of stuff your brother dropped off. I'm sure there's something in there we can use.

You know, every now and then, I get to thinking that maybe there should be tighter restrictions on google searches. I'm just throwing that out there. If this is not an argument for that, then I don't know what is. I want to know (or maybe I don't) what they used for ink.

Because "tattooing childen is illegal in Georgia," (I'll bet that's something you never thought you'd read) the kids were temporarily removed from their parents. At which point, Mama Tat had this to say:

"If I'm such a bad parent, then how come they brought the kids back right after I got out jail?"

Well. There you have it. Can't argue with that logic.

Bits and Pieces...

2010-01-06T21:24:00.000-06:00

Well, my immune system finally folded and the germs won the pot. But thankfully, after careful review and extensive google research, it is not The Plague as I initially suspected, but instead just the Common Cold. Although do you get a fever with a cold? Because I have one. I am rocking the temp at 101 like it's going out of style. Fussy, sweaty, fevery 101 in the house! Holla! Also, I might be delirious. You've been warned.

So this is pretty much going to be a pointless post, and I'm really only doing it because I know I have not put as much into our blogging relationship as I have taken out. Which is just plain selfish. I have been feeling completely unfunny lately, so I decided this will be a post of tying up loose ends. Specifically about things that I know you've been wondering about, so we'll wrap it all up here now, so that you will finally be able to get some sleep. Or I don't know, maybe I'll just post a bunch of pictures and ramble endlessly and pointlessly as I'm doing now. It's working well yes?

ANYWAY, remember that I was going to bake pumpkin goodies for the wonderful pumpkin givers? Well, I finally did it! And from what I was told, it all turned out pretty darn good. :)

Get a load of this empanda action:

And muffins. YUMMO!

I made dog treats too for the dawgs, but no pics because they just didn't look quite yummy enough. But Gracie girl sure loved them. So there's that.

Also, Literary Christmas. Remember me telling you about the sock puppets? We pulled off another winning performance from what I can tell of the reviews. The day of the party, Cousin Val and I met upor emergency poetry writing. We decided on a rewrite of the classic 'Twas the Night Before Christmas starting with the line 'Twas the Morning of Literary Christmas. Oh my gosh, we had to much fun. There was lots of high fiving and table dancing and bacon eating, and then the creativity just started flowing. After two hours at a table in IHOP, it was all finished up. Apparently the secret is to cram in it at the last second. Haha. Which is pretty much what the whole poem was about anyway. With a rap breakdown included of course. I believe there is video of it somewhere so I'll try to get my hands on it for you. Until then, here's a pic:

I hope you all got some closure here so we can move on. Yes? Okay, good. I'm off to watch Lifetime with my fever.

Rawr...

2009-12-27T16:59:00.001-06:00

Okay, I just want to say one thing, and then we are not going to say anything else until February when the topic at hand turns 18. Deal?

So:

I know!

Okay, that's all.

Except wait, let me just say this one more thing:

See you in February...

Merry Christmas to all...

2009-12-24T23:17:00.000-06:00

God's gifts....

2009-12-24T13:38:00.000-06:00

From The Great House of God by Max Lucado....

"Thanks be to God for his gift that is too wonderful for words." 2 Corinthians 9:15

Why did he do it? A shack would have sufficed, but he gave us a mansion. Did he have to give the birds a song and the mountains a peak?

Was he required to put stripes on the zebra and the hump on the camel?...Why wrap creation in such splendor? Why go to such trouble to give such gifts?

Why do you? You do the same. I’ve seen you searching for a gift. I’ve seen you stalking the malls and walking the aisles. I’m not talking about the obligatory gifts….

I’m talking about the extra-special person and that extra-special gift….Why do you do it?...You do it so the heart will stop. You do it so the jaw will drop.

You do it to hear those words of disbelief, “You did this for me?”

That’s why you do it. And that is why God did it. Next time a sunrise steals your breath or a meadow of flowers leaves you speechless, remain that way.

Say nothing and listen as heaven whispers, “Do you like it? I did it just for you.”

Today's Post is Brought to You by Cozy Socks...

2009-12-16T23:31:00.000-06:00

Have you ever seen such toasty piggies in all your life?! I'm telling you this: Combine these bad boys with some stretchy pants and watch the world turn rosey. You can count that as fact. They were so magical during movie watching time last night that I took myself right back to Old Navy this morning to buy a second pair. I also highly recommend getting fun stripes. It will make your feet happy.

Ugh. Embarrassing story for you. (Not super embarrassing because I was over it in as long as it took me to call my BFF and recount the story, but still...) My mission at Old Navy today was three-fold: (1) Buy the pj pants for my mom to complete our matching Christmas morning pj's, (2) buy more cozy socks (see above), and (3) use my 20% off coupon. Oh wait, no, four-fold because (4) use my gift card. Yes, four-fold. After at least an hour in the store, possibly longer, trying on every single thing that looked sort of interesting, I had a nice little selection of goods for purchase. (Dang, it's five-fold. I needed to exchange a shirt too. Brain, please engage. Thanks.)

In the checkout line, I make things slightly difficult for Cashier Girl and ask her to do the exchange and the purchase separately because one was on my mom's receipt, and the other would be mine. Halfway through it, I realized that was unnecessary and told her she could do it all on one transaction as she suggested. It didn't cause her any more work or anything; I just tell you that to prepare you for the idea that maybe my cerebrum wasn't operating with a full staff. I also ask her to do a price adjustment for a couple of the shirts Mom and I bought yesterday that I found marked down on clearance. She did whatever retaily thing, then told me that nothing was pulling up as needing to be adjusted on the receipt. So we look over the receipt together, and I point out what shirts I meant. Yeah, they were already marked down on the receipt. We got them at the clearance price yesterday. GAH! I mean it's awesome that we got the discount, but seriously Jenny, check your facts before you begin to speak. No worries, she was nice to me so I went on my merry way.

As soon as I got in the car, I realized two things: (1) I forgot to use my gift card (3rd time I've done that btw), and (2) I forgot to use my 20% off coupon. Argh! I immediately called my retail bestie who worked at Gap for like 100 years. "If I bring my coupon back in there, will they give me the discount?" She assured me they would. So I did the dork walk of shame and went back through the cashier's line. I explained to her how apparently I completely dorked out and forgot about my coupon and could I please still use it? She thankfully did not look at me insane, but called her manager to help her out with the transaction. She said she just wanted to make sure she was doing it right, but I'm pretty sure it's because she thought I was going to put a dead rabbit on the counter or something. I mean I know I was totally putting off the crazy vibe (I might have realized mid-first transaction that I had a full 20 oz Sprite in my purse that I had forgotten about. Of course I told her about it.)

Because there was holiday madness happening, I let the two ladies in line behind me go first while we waited for Manager. Once he got there, he said she would just need to void it and redo the transaction. Ok, a small pain, but nothing major. Then, when it wasn't working right, he realized there was an exchange on the receipt and because of that, she would have to return each individual item MANUALLY and then re-ring it up. Poor girl. I glanced over my shoulder to see how many people were inconvenienced by this. Seven. SEVEN! Well, sorry Old Navy shoppers, welcome to Christmas In Retail. I was so happy to get out of there, that I didn't even bring up the gift card. No way. I'll use it later, let's just roll with the coupon thing please.

It all worked out fine, I just hate having to do stuff like that. HATE it. Let me just do it all right the first time, so as not to have to make waves to fix it later. But whatever, I'm over it. But brain, please note...You are on notice.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

2009-12-14T17:03:00.000-06:00

Holy snowballs! My first blog award! Thanks mucho to Kathryn over at From the Inside...Out for bestowing this honor upon me. For real, I'm so stinking excited. It's like I'm an official blogger or something. Should we get t-shirts? I'm pretty sure we should get t-shirts.

Behold!

Now as a condition of this prestigious award, I am instructed to fill in the following blanks. It will be diffcult because I am so modest (which is why I am so awesome after all), but I vow to do my best. Here goes:

(1) My site rocks because: In addition to fascinating topics such as dog vomit and locker room nudity, I can offer you pictures of a cute dog and beautiful produce.

(2) In my next life, I want to come back as a: goat because days will be spent eating the heck out of whatever I want. Plus, I can randomly head butt people to my liking, and they can't get mad, because hey, I'm a goat. It's what I do.

(3) For me, the best part of blogging is: I like having an outlet to share thoughts and stories, and if those stories can make someone else smile, then it's all the more rewarding.

Now for my pay it forward awarding, I would like to award Lise over at Every Last Drop for her honest and encouraging writing. Go say hello!

Thank you again Kathryn. Your praise is much appreciated. :)

Pop Quiz...

2009-12-12T20:34:00.000-06:00

Question: As I vacuumed this afternoon, how far did I get before I realized the canister was not on, therefore recycling all dust and debris right back onto the floor?

(a) The hallway
(b) The hallway and the kitchen
(c) The hallway, the kitchen, and twice around the living room

If you answered C, give yourself 10 points. And then another 5 points for being pretty.

Odds and ends...

2009-12-10T00:04:00.001-06:00

'Sup dudes? I hope everybody is doing well. Have you gotten all your Christmas shopping done? I have. Yep. I was able to get everyone I know something completely on the cheap, which is a blessing because these economic times have not been kind to this girl's bank account. The solution? I am giving everyone hugs. Practical and very eco-friendly. I'm just a trailblazer that way. I don't think I used that phrase properly. But whatever, it's my blog.

So, let's see...what do I have to tell you. First off, it needs to be said that today was stupid. Like really stupid. And that's all I have to say about that. Wait, no, I have one more thing to say about that. The upside to the downside is that I got in a fantastic cry that lasted a good portion of the day. I can't tell you how exciting this was for me. Seriously, you know how things just build and build and build and it's getting all intense, but thanks to the survival instinct thing you've got going on, you haven't exactly cried yet? But then when you finally do, it's like oh sweet relief? Yeah, that's the kind of cry I got today. Totally cathartic (is that the right word? I swear my brain thesaurus/dictionary is on the fritz.). Acutally, I don't think I'm done yet either, so I'm hoping I have a few good crying days ahead of me. Fingers crossed.

I seriously need to reboot the hard drive in my brain these days. It's like a forgotten to-do item floats into my thought process at some random moment, and all synapses on duty start working on the Oh Yeah! memo to the rest of my brain. And then immediately all of those synapses clock out for the day, and the Oh Yeah! memo is just left on the desk in the dark allowing the to-do item to float right on out. So it never gets done and this just annoys me to no end. Wow, that was some analogy huh? (Why am I picturing my synapses as elves? Santa's, not Keebler. Hmmm.) Point being: I still have not cooked pumpkin yummy goods for the pumpkin givers. I know right?! How does one FORGET to bake a magic pumpkin? Especially when there's practically a keg of it in the freezer. What is that about Brain? Huh? Can you please offer me some explanation as to your completely flaky state these days? So, I'm deeply sorry, dear pumpkin friends, that you have yet to taste the satisfaction of healthy sugar-free pumpkin muffins (shut up, they are so awesome.). However, in an attempt maintain my living room picture frame status (seriously, I'm in the living room! In a frame!), I am going to throw the "My Dog Had Surgery" card. That's right. I went there.

**Quick sidenote: Just so you know, Deedra & Bel, Pumpkin Givers Extraordinaire, are the wonderful pet parents to Cooper, Lola, and Codi that I told you about a while back? Remember those kids? Just trying to give you all the pieces to this puzzle. :)**

So next up on our agenda today: Literary Christmas. Sigh. (Hang tight. This is where the banner pic gets explained.) For the past 2 or 3 years, my Aunt Terri has hosted a Literary Christmas Party at her house. The concept is for everyone in attendance to "perform" a song, reading, poem, game, whatever of a Christmas nature. It is, in a word: awesome. My family is HUGE by the way. Like Catholic family in the 50's huge. My mom has 9 brothers and sisters. Yeah. It's fantastic. So this mass of people gets together (aunts, uncles, cousins, grannies...) contributing everything from 'Twas the Night Before Christmas to Christmas Jeopardy.

Up until last year, I had been strictly a spectator. The night before last year's party, I was hanging out at my cousin, Val's, house. Somehow the conversation turns to the party and that the two of us should do something. The conversation goes as follows:

Val: We could do a skit.

Me: I love it. Of what?

Val: Beloved Christmas classics

Me: Like A Christmas Story

Val: Or It's a Wonderful Life

Me: What if we did a dramatic re-enactment of It's a Wonderful Life...as told by sock puppets.

Literary. Christmas. Gold.

The next morning, we made a quick trip to Wal-Mart for a bag o' socks, and after some Sharpie magic, we had our Bailey family. We gave the lady socks yellow yarn hair of course, and little Zu Zu even got red ribbons for her pigtails. Even puppets must maintain their feminity. There was a short outline of key scenes in the movie and maybe 1 or 2 dress rehearsals, and after a total of 15 minutes of work, we were stage ready. And let me just say...we nailed it. At one point, I was laughing so hard I couldn't even say my lines. Val had to cover for me and play George Bailey AND Mary at the same time. Luckily, she is quick on her feet (or hands), and would just shake my puppet hand while she talked so people would know which character was talking. That is professionalism at it's finest. It was so much fun, and everybody really liked it.

Here's the problem: We set the bar too high. Literary Christmas is only a week and a half away, and I got nothing. I mean, there was an encore request on Christmas Day! How do we compete with that? I know I shouldn't be too concerned really, considering last year's Tony winning show was cooked up in about 10 minutes the night before while watching Christopher Walken and drinking a couple of beers. But the questions have been coming now since the party announcement: "What are Val and Jenny gonna do?" Is this how Meryl Streep feels? I'm thinking yes.

Stay tuned...

Week One Complete

2009-12-07T23:05:00.000-06:00

Dude, has it seriously been a week already? One week into this long road to recovery, and I have to say, so far so good. There were definitely a couple REALLY bad days right up front, but that was all me and not a whole lot to do with Gracie girl here. Lesson learned here: Do not combine a week of craft show preparation with 3 days of Thanksgiving/travel with an all day craft show with major surgery on your one and only dog child during a week that is known to not be safe emotional-wise for us ladies and physical-wise for you fellas. I think you follow. Luckily, I was able to sleep in extra late one day which recharged my batteries a bit.

This dog is taking this whole thing like such a champ. Dogs, man. The resilience in these animals is amazing. From the minute she got home, she has not whined a bit about having to be in the crate. Trust me when I tell you this is a HUGE occurrence. She'll huff and snort at me a bit, if she thinks she should be up on the bed with me, like maybe I forgot, but once I tell her to lay down, she settles in. WHA??? Oh, and there was the HORRIBLE, nightmare-inducing night where she had to wear the Cone of Shame (10 points if you name the movie!) for the first time, and she literally laid there and quietly cried herself to sleep. Like not even the whining dog kind of crying. Just little whimpers to herself, and y'all, I am not lying when I tell you fat, little teardrops rolled down her cheeks. I mean, seriously, universe? Must you be this cruel? Heart. Breaking.

Since then, all is gravy. Just today she has started to bite/chew on her leg from the itching more consistenly. All week, when I tell her no, she'd quit. Not so much today. She'll latch on to that little naked leg and just gnaw the heck out of it, pretending she can't hear me of course. Smart pup that she is figured out how to time it too, that if she ignores me, I'll get up to stop her. And don't you know that little dog will bite bite bite on her itchy spot right until I put my hand out to stop her. Then, of course, she's done. Mmmm hmmm. What a coincidence. You just happen to stop itching when I get to you. I'm on to you little animal. So the bummer of it is that she now has to wear The Cone all day since she refuses to heed the wisdom of my years. She doesn't fuss at all about it, but is having a little trouble figuring out how to walk and hear and all that with it on. She clipped the walls in the hallway a few times, and tries to see over the top of it instead of turning her head left or right. It's really cute/sweet/funny to watch. She's a trooper, that one.

So, anyway, we're managing. We made it through week one, seven more to go. The stitches come out this Saturday, so that should help with some of the itching. All we can do is one day at a time right?

And just so you know what I see every night before I go to sleep:

I can't help but smile.

OH YES I DID

2009-12-06T23:10:00.000-06:00

If I'm going down, you're all going down with me....

It's The Great Pumpkin!

2009-12-05T00:41:00.000-06:00

Sigh. Isn't it the most beautiful pumpkin you ever did see?

A couple of weeks ago, I went to visit a friend (Shelley) who was housesitting for another friend(Dee & Bel). This completely perfect pumpkin was sitting next to Dee's front door when I arrived, and O.M.G. I am fairly certain I blacked out for a second due to it's sheer great pumpkin-ness. In case I've not mentioned it previously, I have an obsession with pumpkins. I LOVE them. I love to hug them and thump on them to hear their hollowness and then hug them again. They make me plain ole happy. And this one just topped them all. I had to touch it just to see if it was real. It was all fat and shiny and the perfect pumpkiny color, and I fell head over heels.

Imagine my complete and utter joy when Shelley emailed me a few days later and said, "They're giving you the pumpkin." This is how the term "Squee!!!" was coined, my friends. Are they not the most wonderful people you have ever heard of in your life?!?! These two beautiful friends of mine are willing to give up THE GREATEST PUMPKIN! in order to bring joy to my life. (Also, I kind of promised that I would bake them something pumpkiny delicious with it, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with why they gave it to me. I'm sure it's the whole joy thing. Right girls?) (Oh and I think I should point out that it was recently been noted that I have reached picture frame status in their house. PICTURE FRAME, PEOPLE! And not even hidden in the back guest bedroom. Front and center in the living room! If that doesn't just scream BFF, then I don't know what does. I'm just saying.)

After Shelley delivered The Great Pumpkin (!), it sat proudly and prominently in the place of honor next to the armchair in the living room. This way it can be seen while eating dinner or while watching tv, which is the only way to properly respect the pumpkin. After a couple of days of hugging on it, my mom says "You know, we could just buy another pumpkin and cook with that one and just let this one sit here and be pretty." (I love my mom.) We deliberated and decided that it was only fair to cook The Great Pumpkin (TGP), so that he may live out his full Harvest Destiny. I mean, this is what he was born for right? It was decided. TGP would be carved on Tuesday.

And honestly, that's pretty much the end of the story. I mean, I carved it, and it took me approximately 17 years, but you probably guessed that. Once it was all cut up into pieces ready for steaming, it was enough pumpkin to fill four large mixing bowls. FOUR! Took me almost a week to steam and strain it all. Gosh, I'm getting all tired just remembering how long it took. Sometimes you just have to suffer for baked goodies (which I totally haven't even done yet. I know! I'm sorry! But I promise to the lovely pumpkin givers, that it is still in the freezer and I will absolutely bake you some deliciousness this weekend and probably even get it to you too.)

So anyway, that's the story of The Great Pumpkin. Aren't you glad you waited around for like a week for me to tell you that. You will sleep SO good tonight now, I'm telling you. Gosh, I love pumpkins.

OH WAIT! I forgot to tell you! When I started pulling seeds out, there were like 3 that had started growing INSIDE THE PUMPKIN!!! The Great Pumpkin was preggo! (This explains the adorable roundness and lovely pumpkin glow) But for real, the seeds were sprouting leaves and had roots all growing and attaching to pumpkin walls and everything. HOW GROSS IS THAT?! So gross and so completely awesome. Wait, I think I took a pic....hang on....

(I apologize for the graphic pumpkin guts.)

Isn't that just crazy? There were 3 of them like that, and my mom planted them all so we could possibly have Great Mini-Pumpkins in the future. (!!!!) So, okay, yeah that was my pumpkin story. You're welcome. :)

B is for Bah!...and also Buzzkill...

2009-12-02T18:56:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: The following post could be a hazardous to your positive mood. Rantings and grumpy feelings are forecast. You've been warned.

Today is stupid. The past week has been just one emotional crapfest, and honestly, I would like it all to stop please. I would like to not have to concern myself with things of a financial nature, and I would like to undo all of the dumb spending mistakes I have made in the past, oh, I don't know, ten years or so. Why the heck couldn't I have learned these lessons right out of the gate? Because seriously, my first car came with the hefty note of $165.90 a month, and I spent ALOT of time thinking that was just going to break the bank. Not even close. Fortunately, I had a good friend who said "pay $20 extra a month toward principal and you'll pay it off like a year sooner." The car crapped out completely before it was ever paid off, but thankfully, that extra $20 a month I was sending lessened the blow of being in the red on a car that could not be fixed. I wish I had known then that I had more money than I realized and probably could've been doubling my payments avoiding this whole upside down situation in the first place. But whatever, I'm totally getting off topic. The point of all that rambling is basically if I had known then what I'd know now, this whole layoff would probably be a heck of a lot less agonizing.  I'm fast approaching 30, and I'm nowhere close to where I hoped I would be from a stability standpoint. That sucks.

Thanksgiving came and went with a lot more stress and anxiety than I had anticipated. There were some truly awesome aspects of it, such as my brother being able to be there rounding out "the four of us" like it should be. Or getting to spend time with my mom's sister's husband's mom (grandma-in-law?). She is one bad@ss senior is all I'm saying. And she brought some rocking good dip. That pretty much makes you a winner in my book. But for some reason, with all the things to be thankful for and all the wonderful company, I was completely unsettled. Even Gracie spent every chance she got racing for the front door. My anxiety goes through the roof when I'm at that house, and I can't entirely pinpoint why.   I suspect it has to do with the whole Katrina thing, and this is the house we evacuated to and maybe all that comes out. I don't know.

And now I'm pup nurse to my sweet lil Gracie girl. She had the knee surgery on Monday, and all went really well. She came home yesterday afternoon and has been cooped up in her cozy kennel since then. She gets bathroom breaks, and I occasionally let her out to lay next to me on the floor in my room. There was a major cone of shame issue last night when she started spending a lot of time going after those stitches. So at about 8:30 last night after I was showered and in my jammies, I had to go out and find a cone to keep her from messing up the incision. I wanted a specific comfy cone so she would be able to sleep on it. Petco fail. Petsmart fail. So I settled for the little inflatable donut thing. Have you seen those? They're pretty cool. Anyway, got it home...too small. GAH! It was too late at that point to go find another one so I took my chances that she would sleep and not chew overnight. She chewed. So now she has this huge hematoma type thing on her knee which vet says is not normal. So I have to take her back in to see him in the morning. Finally found the comfy cone I was looking for today, but when I got it home, it was too big and she pulled it right off. GRRR!!! I managed to make the inflatable one work and she looked fairly comfy in it, but she can get around it to her stitches. Oh geez, is this some joke?! So again, last minute trek out right before closing time to find a comfy cone size small. I think it fits okay, but I keep watching her making sure she's breathing and that it's not too tight. But that poor pup is MISERABLE.

I just need everything to stop. For just a bit. Until I can recharge. I need to not think about money and how I'm going to support myself. I need to not worry about getting a job. I need my dog to be happy and healthy and not have to suffer like this. I need to feel settled and in place and not have this weight of uncertainty on me every. single. second.  I need sleep.

Chick's Best Friend...

2009-11-30T23:03:00.000-06:00

So I know that you are all on the edge of your seats, waiting to hear my story of The Great Pumpkin. It's really not that exciting of a story so you can pretty much relax about it. But, it is a pretty amazing pumpkin so if the pictures of it will thrill you like they thrill me, then you can scootch back to the front of you seat. The past week has been a blur of pumpkin pies and Christmas crafts with a small appearance by some Black Friday shopping. Wow, now that I'm actually writing it, I might actually have a lot to tell you once I finally get to telling you about it. But I can't tell you now. My mind is preoccupied.

You guys, my lil Gracie girl had knee surgery today. *insert tragic heartbroken sad face here* She has had luxating patellas (moving kneecaps) since she was a puppy, and 3 different docs have recommended surgery to correct it. Well, as most of you know, pet care sure don't come cheap, so I've had to put it off over and over. It got so bad that the poor pup could hardly run after her ball. And trust this...that girl LOOOOVES her some ball.

While at the dog park (which she hates. what is that about?) one day, I noticed that her leg almost looked like it was dangling, and she refused to run on it. Okay. That was enough. We worked out the funding deal with the vet, and surgery was scheduled for this morning.

I dropped her off about 8:00 and thank God! my favorite vet tech was there. She's very calm, and very good at being pet parent understanding. She never rushes me and makes a big stink over Gracie which is what I need please. After all, she is the cutest, sweetest dog ever. Ever. (do not argue. you will lose.) And Gracie has learned the art of the drama (where she got it, I'll never know) and usually FREAKS out when I leave her somewhere. I mean FUH-REAKS out. While travelling for T-giving, my dad held her leash so I could run in to the Ladies, and the dog lost her mind. Bark bark bark cry cry cry shake shake cry shake bark. Sheesh. (sidenote: it makes me feel REALLY good about myself to be adored that much by this little animal. Seriously. Self-esteem issues? Raise a puppy.)

Anyway, today she did pretty good when Vet Tech took her. I thought I was going to get out of there without having my heart ripped out of my chest, and as I was almost out the door, I realized I forgot to ask a question. I turned to ask Vet Tech, and my sweet, little pup let out the longest, most pitiful whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine I have ever heard out of her. I almost didn't realize it was her because she didn't move a muscle. Just stared at me and whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. Um, ok, great, so I'll just leave my heart right here on the counter, and you just call me when I can come pick it up. Great, thanks. Sigh.

I talked to the office this afternoon, and Unfavorite But Still Nice Vet Tech said surgery went well, and Gracie was already up and whining. Thank you God! She has to spend the night there though, which I was totally okay with, up until about 8 pm-ish. Uh, no. No no no. I need her here. She cannot be sleeping in some strange place with her leg all bandaged and no ball and no me to rub her tummy and kiss her little head. But I know it must be done, and so all I can do at this point, is continue praying for her comfort and health and heavy medication to knock her the heck out. Actually, I think I need to pray the same thing for myself.

Get better quick little baby!

The Great Pumpkin - Teaser

2009-11-24T17:54:00.000-06:00

A Stitch in Time...

2009-11-23T23:26:00.000-06:00

So the other day I was in Dairy Queen with my dad, and there was this girl at the counter ordering, who was completely oblivious to the fact that her pants were split in the back. Like major split almost all the way to waistband, undies on display and everything.

Also, did I mention it was me?

Yeah. I flashed Dairy Queen. Sigh.

My favorite pair of capris had recently ripped in the derriere region, but because I got mad mending skillz yo, I figured I could just stitch it up and all would be good as new. As it turns out, I figured wrong. My dad and I had been out running errands before Dairy Queen, and each time I got in the car, I could tell the pants were ripping a bit. I just assumed it was my sewing coming undone, but because the initial tear really wasn’t all that noticeable in the first place, I didn’t think much of it. Again…wrong. Apparently, you cannot make the pants be something they are not. If you try to change the pants into what you believe they should be, their only response will be to act out in a much more dramatic fashion. Thus, leaving you arse out in the middle of a fast food restaurant.

So, you know, I hope we all learned something here.

So....um.....let's see....

2009-11-18T15:57:00.004-06:00

You guys. I am blank. Like blank blank. I keep telling myself that I am going to keep up with this blog and post every day and whatever. But each time I come to this little white box it's like my whole brain powers down. What is that about? Because I sure think of lots of things to say when I'm driving in my car by myself.

For example: Today, I learned the proper way to open a Wendy's salt packet. I'm pretty sure I dumped like 3 things of salt on my fries solely because I was so thrilled by this new way of opening the salt. As it turns out, you don't have to tear the packet open at the top. It is apparently pre-perforated (actual word?) and you just have to snap it in half. RIGHT ALONG THE DOTTED LINE! Um, excuse me genius salt packet maker?! Why has the world not made a bigger deal of your brilliance? Because seriously? Life changed, right here.

Sidenote: How delicious are Wendy's fries? And do you dunk them in chocolate frosty like I do? Because you should be doing just that. I dare you to find something more amazing than Wendy's fries in a frosty. Double dare you. You might have an argument if you chose to throw spa massage on the table, but then I would just counter with a $3 price tag, and you would again be wrong. So that's something to think about.
End sidenote.

Point being? I'm not sure really. But the salt thing was pretty cool.

A love story...

2009-10-29T23:10:00.002-06:00

Everyone spends their life looking for that something special. That one thing that will fill their hearts with love and their lives with meaning. Very few people are actually lucky enough to say they have found it. And of the ones who have found it, even fewer are able to say that they’ve actually been able to call it their own. This is one of life’s greatest and most elusive wonders.

I am talking, of course, about Tupperware.

Real, true, brand name Tupperware. The organizer’s dream. The baker’s heart’s desire. Never has it been so thrilling to have leftovers that need storing. We all know there is none that can compare. But Tupperware, like most things honest and pure, is not easy to come by. Tupperware can only come into your life when the stars line up and you happen to have a distributor and a full bank account at the same time. You may be lucky enough to be fixed up by a well meaning family member, who just thought you and a one touch canister would be a perfect match. Or a friend who recently purchased a FridgeSmart set and now believes it their mission to ensure everyone else is as happy as they are.

Still sadly, most will never know the joy of customized airflow. We go through life trying to pretend it doesn’t matter, and eventually, we start to believe the lies we tell ourselves: “I don’t need the real thing. That kind of freshness only happens in fairy tales. Plastic containers weren’t meant to last a lifetime.” We try to fill the void with brightly colored sets we found at Wal-Mart for $5, convincing ourselves that this set is just as good as that other stuff. Things are great for a short time, and it appears your dreams are coming true, until one morning you wake up to find that all the lids are either missing or warped from bottom rack dishwashing. Much like our hopes of containers with lifetime guarantees. We resign ourselves to the fact that it just wasn’t in our stars.

Until one morning, as we open the front door, something flutters to the ground. What is this? Gasp! A Tupperware catalog?! Can this really be happening? This is the day we’ve dreamed of since we were little girls! The Tupperware party is coming! Hope fills our hearts and we RSVP with an eager YES!

On that special day, all the guests arrive with airy hearts, ready to witness one of life’s most sacred rituals: product demonstration. As our fearless Tupperware leader demonstrates bowl after airtight bowl, the room is filled with a reverent silence (and some hysterical laughing because Heather is funny, yo). The ceremony comes to a close, and we all glance around the room, knowing we just witnessed something special. None of us will be the same. It is time to place our orders, and we all take turns vowing our eternal devotion to item x on page y. As the exchanging of payments and receipts concludes, it is official. We are the owners of Tupperware.

Till death do us part.

Post Traumatic Spider Disorder...

2009-07-03T00:17:00.002-06:00

So I'm not scared of spiders. Never have been. I think tarantulas are cool. I admit I saw this tiny bit of Arachnophobia which messed me up pretty good for a short while, but lately all has been well.

Until this morning...

I grabbed my face wash out of the shower and right by the drain, I swear to you, was the biggest spider ever created. Looked like a hubcap. Luckily, I reacted coolly and calmly, and by coolly and calmly, I mean I screamed bloody murder. Then I got that feeling. You know the one where all your blood turns to ice and you get goosebumps all over and realize you now have to move? Yeah that one.

Okay think fast! Turn on the faucet and try not to hurl in the tub. My fast thinking and not hurling triggered his spidey sense, and he ran back down into the drain. GROSS! So I kicked the faucet on high and let it run for a long time. Washed that horror right down the drain. Still completely freaked out, but, proud of my awesome mutant spider drowning skills, I went back to cleaning the living room.

Then it hit me...That thing was one of those creepy water spiders. He was much too quick to dive back in the drain. That little effer is probably just chilling under the sink plug waiting for it to quit raining. So I snuck back in there to peek in the tub.

Dude. That thing had climbed back out of the drain and was all chilling with his crazy legs on top of the drain plug drying out. Cue "that feeling." I may or not have blacked out. I cannot be sure. I cranked the faucet up again and he just sort of flinched with his omgsocreepiness. Oh no sir. This calls for more than lame shower pressure.
I filled a pitcher in the kitchen (which is totally hard to do when you're all shaking and goosebumpy and oh so nauseous from the sci fi action) to completely wash him down the drain. HOT water! Oh yeah. Dumped it in there and he just sort of gross spider wrinkled up and was not giving up his grip on the drain plug. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! (Sorry if you're reading this Shell.) OMGOMGOMG!!! More pitcher water! OMG, now he's like wedged between plug and tub. (This is EXACTLY how Xanax was developed you guys.)

OMG, okay think! Dawn! Dawn cuts the grease, and I sho nuff need somebody to do some cutting! Dawn dish soap in the pitcher water, and he finally gave it up and was washed down the drain. Now, because my short term memory is heightened in this sort of trauma, I know not to be fooled by the whole oh he's gone down the drain act. I dumped at least 7 more pitchers of water down along with the running faucet. And for good measure? I used a broom to close the drain. Yeah! Take that!

So now does anybody mind if I borrow their shower? I can't open the drain in mine.

Don't be famous this week...

2009-06-28T11:54:00.003-06:00

WOW. Rough week to be a celebrity...

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_obit_billy_mays

If somebody tries to put you on tv or give you a Grammy, RUN!

What title can suffice...

2009-06-22T00:30:00.003-06:00

I found this quote on another blog I was reading...

"P.S. I think the reason salad is healthy is that midway through you get so bored you forget to eat, whereas, no one forgets when they’re eating bacon."

Word.

Top that...

2009-03-29T22:20:00.003-06:00

So you know how you have the favorite movies and shows from when you were a kid that you thought were just so completely awesome? And now anytime someone mentions it you're all "OMG that was my fave when I was a kid! It was so great!" But technically, you haven't seen it since you were 9 so you really don't remember exactly what it was about? And then you accidentally stumble on a clip from said movie 20 years later and realize it is by far the cheesiest and most ridiculous thing you've ever seen?

I give you Teen Witch.

I'm pretty sure this is when my love of all things rap music started. Top that.

So proud...

2009-03-29T16:33:00.001-06:00

Well, it looks like my little Gracie girl is on her way out of the puppy phase for good. Being that I myself am such a complete chicken, I have tried to make sure that Gracie isn't like one of those skittish dogs who jumps at everything. I admit I have not quite succeeded. She jumps at anything she doesn't recognize and know VERY well.

As much as I've tried to train her not to bark at every little thing, she's a pretty fierce little guard dog and will bark her head off if something isn't right. She'll bark a few times if something is going on outside the front door, like somebody leaving fliers on the door or a bunch of kids in front of the house. Today though, some not so bright flier leaver thought it would be smart to slide the flier all the way through the crack in the door. Gracie was going nuts and I thought I heard paper, but just ignored it, assuming she'd stop as soon as they were gone. She kept up. I went to see what was up and sure enough, there's a big yellow piece of paper stuck in the door on the INSIDE. That's some serious effort to get it inside. Rude, but whatever. But my little Cujo was standing underneath it staring it down and barking like that yellow paper was going to kill us all. That's my girl. She knows which doors to guard, and I love her for that.

Anyway, that's not really the point of this but still it was pretty cool. Because the weather has been absolutely perfect today and the poor pup has been stuck inside with me all weekend, I figured I'd take her out for a little change of scenery. I know she probably is as sick as the usual neighborhood walk as I am, so we went to check out this new walking trail/pond down the street. Let me tell you...this little frou frou fluffy dog? Gets rugged. There was one area of the trail that wasn't paved yet and she was all jumped and crawling through the bushes and dirt like she does it everyday. Extreme pomeranian fo sho. =]

One area of the pond is paved into the water (think boat launch), and there were a few ducks swimming around. I thought for sure as soon as she felt wet paws, she'd come running back to me. Nope. Waded right out into that water chest deep. Whaaa??? Running around like part lab. She even fell into this recessed drainage thing that she couldn't tell was recessed because of the water. I thought that would freak her out and she'd be done. Nope. Proved me wrong again. So exciting for me. She's so jumpy all the time about new stuff, so I was thrilled to see her being all fearless like this.

On the happy, prancy pom walk back to the car, we passed another area where the water comes right back up. I guess her confidence was up because she walked right up to that too. Then jumped back all startled. Walk forward two steps. Jump back. She just swam in dark cloudy water with ducks that she's never seen like a champ. So what was it that had her all scared? A duck feather. A. Duck. Feather. Sigh.

Oh well. Baby steps I guess.

Soooo tired...

2009-01-23T01:05:00.003-06:00

Tonight was the Brad Paisley concert. It was absolutely one of the best shows I've seen. I was so impressed by him. I swear the man did not stop playing the guitar for 2 solid hours, and it completely exhausted me.

I bought my dad tickets for Christmas because, as many of you know, my dad is a rock star. A real one. In a band and everything. We stopped for some Burger King on the way downtown, adn I gotta say, I completely forgot how awesome Whoppers are. That's good stuff. We got to the arena about 5 minutes before Dierks Bentley started, which means we missed Darius Rucker. I don't know any of his stuff anyway, but I've heard he's good. But whatever, we missed him. Dierks Bentley comes out, and I just really don't get him. Everybody I know just thinks he is the hottest thing and loves his music, but it just doesn't click with me. I can think of only one or two songs of his that I really enjoyed. But he was alright.

Brad Paisley? IS THE MAN!!! And for real, if he wasn't married to that adorable Kimberly Williams who I just love like crazy, then Brad and I would be married. Tomorrow. He is just pure candy. I always forget how much I like his music until I hear it, and then it's just WOW to me. SUCH a fun concert. He had a really cool stage set up with lights all over the place, and not the typical cheesy textbook concert lighting. Probably 40 amps all stacked up to form a riser and all the amps lit up. That's cool stuff right there. Fantastic. He tore that guitar up. Or should I say those guitars. I'm pretty sure he switched out every song or two. Rock it out Brad.

As soon as we got to the car, I realized my entire body was aching. Like hard to walk aching. Then I got home and my hamstrings were all tight and my back hurt. I felt like I had been in the gym for hours. It was all from sitting there watching the show. He was so on the whole time and lights and loud and videos and screaming people and just complete sensory overload. It wasn't until we left that I realized that my entire body must've been just completely tensed the entire show. Hahaha. I was so into it, that I didn't even realize it. So I got to see a great show AND it feels like I got an intense workout. That's multi-tasking.

Our seats were awesome! Way up but in the front of the section and it was only one of those 3 seat rows so we didn't have people climbing over us all night. Perfect. No crazies all dancing in front of us either. And you guys, I just completely LOVE hanging out with my dad. He's so awesome. It really made me happy to be able to watch that with him and know that he was really enjoying the music too. Great show, great seats, great company. :)

Oh and this drunk guy totally fell down the stairs as he was dancing down them. How do you top that?

Good morning to me...

2009-01-20T21:29:00.004-06:00

I feel the need to warn you that the following story is pretty gross, but gosh darnit, it's funny so I have to share...

Gracie is part garbage disposal. The girl will eat just about anything you put in front of her. I'm talking dog food, people food, coasters, cigarettes, lizards, your favorite (and only) pair of work shoes... She'll eat it all. For example, as I write this she is laying on floor next to me about to chow down on my fave pj pants that I left on the floor. Surprisingly enough, as random as the things are that she eats, the only thing she really can't stomach is chicken. Don't get me wrong. The girl LOOOOVES to get a piece of chicken from the table, but her poor little tummy just cannot handle it. You can always tell when Gracie has had chicken by the disaster that happens the following morning. Because she's pomeranian this means her backside is all fur and fluff. It's really cute. Unless she's had chicken. Then the evidence stays with her on all that fur and fluff. It's SO gross, I know.

Well, apparently somebody snuck her some chicken yesterday. Normally, she sleeps in my parents' room, but because I spent the night she stayed out in the living room on the couch with me. Apparently, the chicken kicked in sometime in the middle of the night, because when mom woke up, she said it was all the way down the hall into the living room and under my dad's desk. When Gracie trotted up to her, Mom said it was ALL over her backside. An absolute mess.

This is where I tell you that Gracie's favorite place to sit when someone is laying (or sleeping) on the couch is right on top of their head. Guess who was sleeping on the couch while this happened? Yup. After all the business in the hall and living room and all in her fur, my sweet little girl hopped right back up on the couch to go back to sleep. On my head.

Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase crappy morning huh?

At last...

2009-01-20T19:56:00.003-06:00

Guess where I am?

Give up? I'm sitting on my mom's guest bed watching Biggest Loser.

But Jenny, how can you do that when the computer is in the other room?

Well, my friend, as of Sunday evening I became part of this whole technical/electronic/cyber age and got myself a sweet little laptop. Not even 48 hours later, and I am completely spoiled rotten.

I started online classes today which is really the main reason I went ahead and bought this thing, but the secret reason that I really did it? So I can sit on my couch and blog in real time about the awesomeness of tv shows. Hooray!

So Biggest Loser is on right now and I won't go into to much detail just in case some of you DVR'd it and haven't gotten a chance to see it yet. But dang. That Joelle. Whew. I would really like to kick her in the knee. She has these dead eyes, and it makes me so sad for her. She obviously has some issues she needs to work out, but her poor friend Carla is the one who is going to pay for them. Sad and completely frustrating.

Also, I would like Allison Sweeney to be my best friend please. Doesn't she just seem like the kind of person that you want to sit at a cafe and eat egg salad sandwiches with while talking about your fabulous new bag and her adorable new shoes?

Anyway, so I am going to go learn some more about the new gadget of mine. It's got the capabilities to do so many awesome things. I think I'll start with the important stuff. Like games.

My genius, let me share it...

2008-12-30T15:16:00.003-06:00

Hot baths are one of my most favorite things in the world. I take at least 2 a day on an average day, but it can creep up from there if the day is bad or if I'm feeling cold or fussy. I don't do bubble baths though. I don't really understand the point of them. They just keep foaming and that bath starts overflowing with bubbles before you ever get enough hot water to relax in. Not for me. Just hand me a good book or magazine, throw in a couple drops of some lavender essential oils, and I am golden. Yeah, I know. I'm such a girl.

The reason I tell you this is because I had a moment of enlightenment. Of all the baths I've taken in all the years of my life, this idea has never once come to me. While I was letting the water heat up, I ran into the kitchen to get a glass of water. This is when I realized how hungry I was and saw the box of Rice Squares (generic Rice Chex). Ooooh, a bowl of cereal sounds super yummy. But wait, I don't have time to eat a bowl of cereal. By the time I'm finished, the bath water will be all room temp and that's not even what bath time is about. LIGHTBULB!!! What if I eat the bowl of cereal while I'm IN the tub???

Oh yeah. I totally ate my rice squares in the tub. Best. Bath. Ever.

Profound lyrics of the day...

2008-12-29T18:42:00.002-06:00

From “Move Around” by B.G. featuring Mannie Fresh (edited version please)

“I’m from the ghetto homey
I was raised on bread and bologna.”

Word.

Gumbo...

2008-12-29T18:41:00.003-06:00

So we’ve kind of got a lot to cover. This whole no internet thing at home thing is getting old really fast. How am I supposed to share my random thoughts at the very moment they strike if I do not have immediate access to you? It’s a shame, I know.

Anyway, I’m going to number so that I stay on track. Actually, I think I’ll bullet. I say it’s to stay on track, but really it’s because I love to use bullets. Oh dang. I’m typing this on Word to post later, and I’m pretty sure Microsoft bullets do not translate to blogging codes or formats or whatever. Boo on that. So back to numbers we will go… (This entire paragraph is a perfect preview to the randomness that is to follow)

1. Did you guys see the Biggest Loser Finale like 100 weeks ago? Yeah, it was awesome, and my girl Michelle won. It never ceases to amaze me how incredibly different these people look after they lose all this weight. Completely unrecognizable. Makes me wonder what I would look like by losing 50% of my body weight. Probably a little scary and skeletal, but still…I wouldn’t mind punching out my old “before” pic and walking out. That’d be fun. And for those of you who saw it, did you notice how every one of those girls just about broke their necks trying to walk in their high heels? That was sad to me. They were so heavy before that they probably couldn’t walk in heels. If this is the case, theen 4 inch stilettos is probably not the best place to start, but hey, I admire that sort of confidence. That alone is a pretty amazing accomplishment.

2. Speaking of Biggest Loser, what the heck is up with fast food drive thrus NEVER getting your order right??? Like ever. Cheeseburger, fries, coke. I don’t understand how this is hard. And although I’ve never heard an order from the receiving end of a fast food order speaker, I am confident that LARGE and MEDIUM do not sound alike. Also, I don’t fully understand how no tomatoes translates to no cheese. As much as I try, I cannot work this out in my head.

3. I think “reputable” is the most awesome word. Say it out loud. It’s fun huh? Now say “inevitable.” Awesome right? Now say “table.” Isn’t it interesting how that one is not fun at all? Poor table. No fun without the other letters.

4. What is it about my head that is so appealing to Pomeranians at 6:00 in the morning? I am at a loss.

5. My downstairs neighbor’s got surround sound. The best part? They like to wait until 10 pm to use it. Nothing better than a shaking floor to help you relax. I’m not quite sure what proper apartment etiquette is in a situation like this. I figured the grown up thing to do would be to go downstairs, knock on their door, and ask them politely to turn it down a notch or two. Yeah, whatever. I’m totally in my pajamas and not even about to walk down a flight of stairs in 40 degree weather to tell someone they’re bothering me. So instead, I politely stomped on the floor a little. Nothing dramatic, but just enough to make them wonder “is she walking loud or is she telling us to shush?” Guess what? They turned it down.

Fan-flipping-tastic!!!

2008-12-29T18:41:00.002-06:00

My rule is never pay full price for anything. I am a champ when it comes to bargain hunting, and it thrills me so completely when I find a great deal. I LOVE to read, but because of this full price rule, I very rarely am able to buy books because it seems ridiculous to me to pay $14 for a book I will most likely only read once. Plus what if it’s stupid? Then I’m out time and money, and that’s just not worth it to me.

There is a discount bookstore near my apartment that I’ve been to a few times and gotten really, really great deals on books. Problem is, it’s only open for a few months, and then they close and move it to another location. The selection is also very random so you have to really look around to find something that interests you. I went in a couple days ago and saw that they were closing Dec 28 so everything was marked down. $4 hardbacks and $2 paperbacks. SWEEET! Walked out with 3 new books.

Today was their final day, and I went over there with my mom so she could look for some curriculum book. Every single book in the store was a DOLLAR!!!! ONE DOLLAR!!! You guys, I think I blacked out for a second. Yes, I am that nerd who gets that excited about books. I bought 8 of them. I just couldn’t quit. Every time I thought I had enough, I’d see one more. Doesn’t matter though because I only spent $8.66. Yeah baby!

Profound lyrics of the day...

2008-12-14T11:38:00.002-06:00

From the hit song "Control Myself" by LL Cool J feat. J. Lo en espanol. (That's right...Big L'y has gone international)

"She said her name Shayeeda
I could tell her mama feed her"

You're an ocean, L.

My new favorite word...

2008-12-09T16:26:00.002-06:00

Swagger.

My new least favorite word?

Leakage.

For the birds...

2008-12-08T13:17:00.002-06:00

In case I’ve never mentioned it, I LOVE animals. Prefer them to most people actually. I’ve never been able to pick a “favorite” animal, but because I had a pet cockatiel for 16 years, I tend to gravitate more towards birds. I’ve been made fun of MANY times because, when out and about, I will stop to take pictures of birds. Not because they’re doing anything particularly birdy, but because hey, here’s one that’s sleeping while standing on one foot. How cute is that? Yeah, I’m obsessed.

In Texas, they have the Grackles. These have to be the most awesome birds I’ve ever seen. They are completely scraggly and look like they do nothing but fly around and street fight (air fight?) other Grackles. And they travel in HUGE flocks. Apparently, the grocery store across the street from my apartment is their Mecca, because honestly, there are THOUSANDS. That is not an exaggeration. It’s a sight to see. Every evening, they fill the trees and sit on the roof and in the grassy areas around the store. It’s so crazy. And they’re so loud. They’re all squawking and chirping and shrieking. When the males get all irritated or matey or happy or whatever, they flip out and fluff their feathers all out and make this crazy chirpy noise:

I am so fascinated. A friend of mine’s husband works at that grocery and said they will sit outside the automatic doors at the store. When someone comes out, the bird flies in to the bakery and pecks open the bread bags for food. It flies back, sits on the big white security alarm tower next to the door, and waits for someone to open it. Then it flies back out with dinner. How flipping awesome is that???

So anyway, I had to run an errand for work today, and as I was passing one intersection, I noticed a Grackle sitting right in the middle of the lane. I thought it was weird to see one sitting like that (because they totally stalk. For real.) I looked in the rearview mirror and saw it kind of topple over then sit itself back up. OMG! There is NO WAY I can just drive away. It can’t move, and it’s going to get hit by a car. That’s just too horrible to think about. Luckily, the intersection is very low traffic at this time of day, plus there is a shopping center right on the corner so it was easy to turn around. I was praying so hard, Please God, keep the cars away. Miraculously, there was not a single car at the light so I was able to pull right up behind the poor little thing. I was sort of afraid of it because I’d seen these bad boys in action. They will totally cut you. She fell over a couple more times while I was walking up to her (it was a girl. I Googled it.) and completely broke my heart. I cupped my hands under her really slow, and she let me scoop her right up. I couldn’t tell where she was hurt, but once she was in my hands she wrapped her little claws around my fingers. You guys? I was thisclose to ending up with a pet Grackle . (Remember that episode of Friends where the monkey grabs Ross’s finger and New York Minute starts playing? Yeah, that was me.) Schlotzsky’s was right there on the corner, and there was a sort of flat, clear area in the garden. I figured that’d be the safest place so I set her down, and she wouldn’t let go. OMG. I wanted to keep her. I talked to her for a minute, and she finally let go and settled down in the garden. Thank you God, for keeping all the cars away so I could save that little birdy.

Yes, it was sad because I know if she is really hurt, then it’s likely she won’t make it. But to know that at least, she’ll go safe in a garden instead of on a busy, scary highway makes me feel better. Normally, animal welfare just completely wrecks me. If I see a hurt or stray animal or even roadkill, I just can’t stop thinking about it, wishing I could do something to help, oftentimes, beating myself up about it because I feel like I should have done something, but didn’t. However, in this case, I know I did everything I could do, and I really felt a peace about it as I left. Sure, I would’ve loved to be able to save her completely, but that’s not what was meant to happen. I know many people might think“Oh my gosh Jenny, it’s a bird. Why the big deal?” I used to say the same thing. Why am I getting so destroyed over an animal? Wild, stray, domestic, whatever. I called my mom crying about some poor animal one day and was so upset by how upset I got. She said “Everyone was given a passion about certain things for a reason. God needs people on this Earth to take care of his animals and that’s what He gave you.” So I’m embracing it. Maybe it seems silly to some, but think about what you are truly passionate about. I mean the really deep down stuff that moves you. What if somebody said “Oh that? That’s nothing. Why do you care about that?” It’s not silly to you because that’s the passion you were given by the One who made you. We need that diversity. It doesn’t matter if it kids (my mom) or cheesecake (me). If it’s important to you, then it’s important. Period.

Do what you can with the moments you’re given. Even if it seems as simple as picking up a little bird off the street, it's what you were meant to do. To the world, it was just one bird. But to that little bird, it was the world.

Too sexy for my shirt...

2008-12-04T17:25:00.002-06:00

It’s that time of year again. Yep, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Can I just say I LOVE it? Remember a few years ago, when the whole VS Angel thing came about, and it was all the rage and completely awesome?

Yeah, that was the year I became hooked. I can’t remember exact time frame, but it was like the first or second show that they started televising or something like that. The one where Heidi was modeling like 30 seconds after she had a baby and her hubby Sea Lion was singing. Girlfriend comes out in an outfit that LIGHTS UP with GIANT wings and she blows a kiss to her man and then struts off down the runway, with no jiggle to be found.

This defines badass you guys. You see, famous people? This is why you get stalkers. You cannot be completely awesome like that and expect the crazies to stay away. We cannot help it. She rocked it. Then there was one year where they were all dressed in santa-y outfits or something and my girl Alessandra comes out in all the pink and stuff. I pretended I was her for the rest of the year.

(Not that this is important, but I think you should know I have that exact bra, and yes, that is exactly what I look like in it. Just like the picture. Just saying…)

And what about the year when JT was on there, and he was singing SexyBack and Giselle was all doing her little turn on the catwalk. She totally brought it back you guys.

Anyway, I know a lot of people are all omg-how-can-you-watch-its-so-demeaning-to-women-and-so-slutty-and-omg-it-just-makes-me-feel-so-bad-about-myself-blah. My response? Get over yourself. They’re not naked or being all whorish down the runway. It’s fun and pretty and sparkly and not much different than girls walking around in bikinis. It makes me proud to be a girl. Every single one of us likes to dress up pretty and feel girly, and let me tell ya, if somebody wanted to do my hair and makeup all awesome and pay me a bazillion dollars to walk down a runway in my underwear, point me to the push up. Quit taking everything so serious.

As much as I love it, I have to admit this year was a little disappointing. It was just plain dull. They have all these new girls that act weird and honestly, several weren’t that pretty. One girl looked like a mad Clydesdale. Plus, their little outfits are getting more “fashiony” which just doesn’t work with me. Like one girl comes out in this beautiful pink set and a big, metallic (literally – a piece of metal) belt like thing around her waist. Um, ok? I guess scrapyard ladies need underwear too. Plus, some of the obvious freshman would walk out and do that whole “come on make some noise” things with their hands. Okay, now we all know that most of these models are like 13, but seriously, this is not a pep rally. And the runway didn’t go out into the crowd like it usually does with people sitting on each side. It was just a long stage that they walked back and forth on. Not fun. And they didn’t walk on sparkly diamond things that kicked up everywhere when they walked. Safe? Yes. Entertaining? No. Only highlight was Heidi rocking the sparkly red angel wings, but when you look close, they aren’t really wings. It’s a big, red Christmas bow. Okay, I’m going to need one of those in EVERY color.

Oh, and Usher performed some ridiculously unsexy song. “Girl, I’m going to deliver you like a FedEx box.” What do you say to that? Um, thank you? Sorry, Ush. Even you’re not smooth enough to pull that line off. Oh and BEST part of the whole night…the commercials. There is one where a bunch of the girls are all running around through this English manor place and across the lawns in the gardens and whatever, wearing red bras and these crazy, big, red, tulle skirts . Then while they’re in the house, they’re all throwing this pink and red gift box to each other. Oh haha, you’re tossing me the gift now! Oh, hee hee, now I’m throwing to you from the balcony! Hooray! You caught it! (Also this is all in slow mo which is supposed to make it romantic or dramatic or something?) Okay so the hilarious part? I swear to you this gift box is the same one that Mother Nature gives that girl on vacation in the Tampax commercial. Marketing must be running low on funds this holiday season.

Motivated, I am not...

2008-12-03T13:22:00.002-06:00

So I know you are all on the edge of your seats wondering how the GET MOTIVATED seminar went. I admit I’m a little curious myself.

What do you mean Jenny? Didn’t you go?

No. I did not. Wait, let me rephrase…Yes, I went , but no, I did not go to the seminar.

Here’s the recap:

Holly finally finished up her payroll/401k/HR stuff (in addition to every other project she could think of in an attempt to avoid motivation)(Ironically, just the idea of going to a motivating seminar will motivate you to get more work done. Just pointing out the irony.), and once in the car says “We need an ATM so I can get us cash for parking.” I say, “Ok, don’t let me forget.” I forgot. She let me. After a few miles, one of us says “ATM” and then we both say “Oh yeah!” Then we both forgot. Finally, at the last exit before you’re really on the way downtown, Holly comes through and says “Better find one now because there won’t be any downtown.” This is a fact I know to be true, so I exit. Turns out the only bank is on the other side of the interstate so we do a U-Turn and do a withdraw from the slooooowest ATM ever made. EVER. Plus, the sun is kicking off the screen blinding me, so after every button push I have to duck back inside the car so I could read what it says. Also, I did not pull up close enough so I had to do the “open the door and still lean through the window” maneuver to get close enough.

Back on the road, Holly is in charge of navigating. Conversation goes a little like this:

H: “Exit and turn left on 6th street. Hey, there’s the wagon.” (in reference to the police paddywagon parked)

J: “We should’ve brought a camera to document this. Let’s call TM and tell her SWAT was down here.” (TM is our crime scene OBSESSED co-worker who is also completely awesome.)

H: “Go 2 blocks and turn right on Red River.”

J: “Oh, that’s The Boiling Pot! That’s the place that….Wait, did you say go right?”

H: “Yes. Then you’re going to take a left on 5th.”

J: “Ok. Wait, this says 7th and we just came from 6th. That means 5th is the other way. It says right on Red River?”

H: “Yes, turn right on Red River. Oh wait, no, LEFT on Red River. I’m reading the wrong directions.”

Awesome. Getting lost is demotivating. Being lost with a completely hilarious friend? Completely motivating.

Now, because downtown is a series of one way streets, none of which I can figure out, we did some fancy maneuvering to try to get back to where we started so we could go left on Red River. We ended up on the street in front of the soup kitchen. On the corner, there is a sort of raised, parking lot area type thing so there is a waist-high cement ledge next to the sidewalk. There is this guy laying on the ground, shirtless, hanging over the ledge, spitting. That’s a little demotivating. I’m waiting for the light to change, and Holly says, “He’s making spit art.” Um, WHAT? “Yeah, he’s making pictures on the ground with his spit. I saw him spit and then look at it. And then spit again.” I think you all will agree when I say that’s a LOT demotivating. GROSS!!!!

On the way down one particular street, there’s a news lady out on the corner standing in front of her camera. And Holly yells, “THAT’S QUITA CULPEPPER!!!” and goes off on this whole mock teenager #1 Quita fan shrieking fit about how fabulous Quita is and oh my gosh Quita, we love you! You guys? Funniest. Thing. Ever. I am still laughing about it today. It’s a shame we didn’t realize who it was sooner because I totally would’ve stopped so we could mob her. (Holly also pointed out later that poor Quita did not even have a camera man. That must’ve been demotivating for Quita.)

Finally, we make it left on Red River and get to the 5th Street Parking Garage (which is convention center parking for the seminar). Lot Full. This was expected considering how late in the day it was, but still. There was a second garage a few streets down and over so we tried that one. We had to pass the Four Seasons Hotel on the way. HUGE sign on PVC pipes being held up by 2 guys that says “SHAME ON FOUR SEASONS. Labor Dispute.” Okay, I understand workplace frustration. Believe me, I get that. But although I’ve never stayed in a Four Seasons, in my head, they leave chocolates on your pillow and fluffy robes in the bathroom, so as much as I understand your frustrations fellas, I cannot shame the Four Seasons. I’ll bet you will not find a toilet cleaning brush left on the floor of the bathroom nor will you find someone’s soaking wet boxer shorts behind the bathroom door (that’s a true story. I’ll tell you about it later.) at the Four Seasons. The front desk guy will not interpret a request for more towels as an invitation to text stalk you at 4 am. Sorry you guys are having rough times during this economic crisis, but I gotta tell ya, I’m with Four Seasons on this one.

We pull up to parking garage #2. Lot full. Okay, now what? No parking anywhere. I’m not even exaggerating that. None. There were bouncers outside of the private parking garages in black jackets with their arms all folded turning people away. One guy was strutting (and I think he had a curly mullet if I’m remembering correctly), totally drunk with the power of guarding the parking lot. All the while, you KNOW these are the bell boys and maintenance guys they sent out there to act as security.

We drove around for a bit just to see if we could find parking, and we end up in front of the convention center. There is a line of shuttles in front of the building. Parked. Not shuttling people from the shuttling locations as promised (we considered that option). Nope. Just parked. And when someone says “shuttle” I picture one of those airport short buses. No, these were BIG greyhound like shuttle buses. Which means they aren’t going anywhere until they are full. Which means if you choose to leave, you will have to wait for at least 80 other people to make the same decision. No, thank you. Meanwhile…cops EVERYWHERE. Apparently Suze Orman requires high security. Colin Powell can take care of himself, and honestly who is really going after the chick with the big, curly hair? Had to be Suze. As we’re checking out the scene, I totally ran a stop sign. Right in front of a cop car. And technically, I didn’t run it all the way. I stopped, but the thing was like 10 feet before the corner behind a bush and I never saw it so I stopped because it seemed like the logical thing to do. Luckily, the cop in the car was taking a nap or checking his myspace or something because he didn’t seem to mind that I rolled 1,000 feet past the sign over the crosswalk and everything. APD is top notch. Protect and serve.

So no parking for these demotivated girls. Only thing left to do is eat. As we head out of downtown, we pass the Quita corner. No more Quita. We agreed on the same restaurant (Amaya’s Mexican! WOO!) and as we’re pulling into the parking lot, I realized we were in the exact same shopping center where we stopped at the blinding ATM. And BONUS! There was parking at Capital Plaza so I got my yummy cheese enchiladas. And TM (crime scene investigator/accountant) met us there which is always fun. (For real, these girls are hilarious. You all need to meet them.)

So that’s the day for you. Keep an eye on the news because you may see me cruising by behind Quita.

(Oh, and P.S. - Popo is doing better!)

Demotivation....

2008-12-02T07:47:00.003-06:00

I have spent most of the morning giggling to myself. You know how sometimes stuff happens and the irony is so intense that you just can’t help but laugh? Welcome to my day.

First, I will tell you that back in September, there was a big, dramatic blowout at work. My co-worker friend and I got blindsided by some senior employees for our “talking to one another” and were told it was both “distracting” and “demotivating.” These were employees who have been here for over 10 years each. Senior employees who could do their job in their sleep, yet our “talking” was distracting. Some in our department (the boss) spends A LOT of time punching his boy toy (another employee) and wrestling and, I kid you not, BARKING. Like a dog. This is a true story. (And for those of you who have read previous blogs, yes, I’m aware I’ve barked also, but I did it to establish my alpha dog status as pack leader, and also I was not in a professional work environment so shush). So there is barking and wrestling and punching and yelling and laughing and dancing and FINGERNAIL CLIPPING, but my talking is “demotivating.” I’m sure.

Fast forward to yesterday…the boss brings me a piece of paper that says “GET MOTIVATED!” across the top, and says “use this to get in.” Um, what? “This is for that thing tomorrow that you asked to go to.” Um, what? “That thing. You don’t know about it?” Considering you are the one responsible for making sure I have the information I need, and you have not said a word, then no, I do not know a thing about it. Turns out they signed a bunch of us up for this GET MOTIVATED seminar that has all these big name speakers. Hey, I’m cool with that. These are people I would be interested to hear speak (Zig Ziglar, Suze Orman, Colin Powell…), but I don’t think a little heads up would be too much to ask for.

Anyway, Shelley (co-worker friend who was secretly signed up too) and I planned to meet at my place this morning and ride in together. This has me somewhat excited, because not only do I have fun with her, but we were also planning on stopping on the way for breakfast tacos. Potato, egg, and cheese please! I woke up to a text from her saying she wasn’t going to make it because her grandpa was in the hospital. That’s a little demotivating. (Please pray for her grandpa. He had surgery yesterday and had to go to the ER last night for blood pressure problems. Get better fast Popo!). No way am I driving downtown by myself to a seminar with thousands of people to sit by myself for who knows how long. No thank you. So I texted for backup. Another girl in my office (Holly) was going to the seminar late after finishing up some payroll stuff and did not want to have to drive down alone either. She was planning going with another co-worker, who now can’t go because her spouse’s grandmother died. Anybody else getting the vibe that this seminar is on the unlucky side? So So Holly and I are driving down there in a little bit which is great, but it also means I actually had to come into the office today after I was totally set on not doing, so slightly demotivating. But because I don’t have to be here all day, I will leave it in the motivating column.

And for the big, fat finale of demotivators for the morning...I have a cold. A Nyquil poster child kind of cold. I can’t stop sneezing and coughing, and I just want to lie in bed and be completely pitiful (Hill, I think this explains the whiny mood yesterday. I swear I’m a 5 year old). On the plus side, I will be with Holly who is completely laid back and sarcastic so I won’t have to be “on” all day with the screaming, cheering, motivated people. AND considering the plague I’m carrying, I managed to pull off a completely put together look together. Whaaaat??? Not only is hair and makeup done, but my socks actually match my shirt. You guys, I can never fully express to you how amazing and motivating this act alone is. My socks NEVER match my outfit. Getting them to match each other is a feat of its own, but to get them to match each other AND my outfit? Well, we’re on a whole new playing field now. Wow, how about that for a tangent huh? I started with Suze Orman and ended with matching socks. Not even Oprah could do that.

So anyway, in conclusion, I actually am looking forward to going to this thing even if I sound all complainy about it. I think it’ll be a good change of pace, and I’m sure I’ll get something out of it even if it’s not the way I planned it.

Also, I totally stopped for breakfast tacos on the way to the office. Some things are non-negotiable.

Tone deaf...

2008-11-20T13:39:00.004-06:00

So do any of you out there have any idea how the author of "Some Are Born to Sweet Delight" used tone to reinforce the central idea of the story?

Also, if you could tell me what the central idea is, that'd be great too.

And one more thing, if you order a Quarter Pounder with no pickles, and the ticket stuck to the order has the words No Pickles printed on it, it does NOT mean there are no pickles on your burger. Do not be misled. I highly suggest you double check their work, otherwise you will not discover their inaccuracies until after you have taken a big bite of it. Trust me on this.

Things that affect me more than they should...

2008-11-19T11:46:00.000-06:00

Taco Bell giving me a fork instead of a spork. It makes me crazy. I don't know why.

Dollars and sense...

2008-11-18T09:36:00.001-06:00

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not big into politics. I rarely watch the news and can’t usually talk current events with anyone. However, as you may have noticed, it’s somewhat hard to miss all the economy talk. It’s everywhere. Foreclosures! Bailout! Recession! Then there’s all the finger pointing and blame. The Bush admistration! Republicans! Democrats! Britney Spears! Sure I’ve noticed things have gotten more expensive lately (dude, I found a shirt for $24.99 at Ross yesterday. Ross! Uh, NO.) and my electric bill is slowly working its way up. But it wasn’t until today that I really put some brain power into the cause of it all. Today is when I realized what is was that has caused Wall Street to come crumbling down and the economy of this great country to fall into the pit of despair. I know who is responsible for this terrible burden.

Me.

The reason? I quit shopping.

As many of you know, I ruled Retail Therapy. There was not one who could out-shop or out-bargain-hunt me. There was a day when I walked through Old Navy and honestly had every single thing in the lady clothes section (only the cute stuff of course. Old Navy can get kind of blech.). Once upon a time, I may or may not have spent $300 in one day at Victoria’s Secret (shut up. It was the semi-annual sale. You girls KNOW how much stuff I got for that amount of money.)(Plus I returned most of it later). I wore the shopaholic title proudly. It was my outlet for stress and boredom, and, although it showed my complete lack of discipline, I loved it.

Then I quit. I don’t really remember when or why (I think maybe rent had something to do with it), but I just didn’t enjoy it anymore. I got tired of “stuff” and a closet full of clothes with nothing to wear and credit card bills with no end in sight. I started giving away anything that didn’t bring me joy to anyone I could think of who would want it. It was very freeing. However, once I started doing the math, I realized that the economy started crapping out right about the time I gave up the spending. Very interesting. Who would’ve guessed that my lack of discipline and complete boredom was supporting the entire economic system? WOW!

Now because I have matured into the responsible adult that I am (ha!), I feel it is my duty to right this dire situation I’ve put us all in. I have developed what I believe to be the solution to this economic breakdown, and I fully intend on presenting this theory to the economists or congress people or whoever it is that will understand my brilliance. Are you ready? I propose that another $700 billion (or million or thousand or whatever…I’m flexible) bailout be created and given to me, and I’ll take care of it from there. You guys, can you imagine the shopping I could do with that kind of money? The economy would boom! I promise it would all be spent on you though. Or at least most of it. I have no interest in spending that kind of money on myself (although I am getting a facial and a massage. Deal with it.). Instead of giving it to these greedy CEO broker types who are spending it on company retreats at the Ritz, that bailout would be all by the people, for the people, in sickness and health, with liberty and justice for all. What do you think? Can I count on your vote?

Not warm and definitely not fuzzy...

2008-11-17T15:22:00.000-06:00

Cold has finally come to central Texas. And by cold I mean 60 degrees. I know that’s nothing, but nevertheless, I’m freezing. Because I had a much more substantial presence this time last year (i.e. 30 lbs additional insulation), none of my cold weather clothes fit. This is good and bad. Good because GO JENNY! GO JENNY! Bad because whoever decides what styles will be “in” this season apparently forgot to take their meds on “fashion” day. I spent the last 2 days trying to find something…anything…that will keep me warm, but not ugly. This something does not exist.

We have 2 options this season: Unimaginably bulky cableknits (which I have nothing against then they are of normal size, but this is Costco bulk I’m talking) or those awful cardigan/empire waist/giant button/bell sleeve/weird color things. Sorry, but I cannot support that campaign. Oh and I forgot the 3rd option: Christmas tree sweatshirts. Do you know I saw an appliquéd Christmas moose on a shirt last night? A MOOSE. I would have LOVED to sit in on the board meeting where that idea was approved.

Not even Target could help me on this. Target was already on my naughty list and has been for awhile now. I can’t tell you exactly when the relationship went sour, but one morning I just woke up and decided I wanted out. However, because I had numb fingers and goosebumpy arms, I decided to bury the hatchet. Epic. Fail. Bell sleeves and giant buttons everywhere! And in several instances, the cardigan/button/weird color now included cableknit. OMG, they’re mutating! I was sulking and just as I had given up all hope…

I’m pretty sure there was some sort of heavenly chorus happening and I swear the room got a little brighter. And yes, I am aware that it is a rainbow splatter painted rhinestone studded batman shirt and short sleeved and I’m supposed to be looking for winter stuff. But think about it…if there were ever a rainbow splatter painted rhinestone studded batman personality to walk this earth, you know it’s me. So as I’m holding my soulshirt in my hands and realizing the mother ship has finally called me home, I look at the price tag. *Insert record screech here* $30. For a tshirt. At Target. Oh mass retailer, it is so ON! Consider yourself on notice.

Things I learned this week, Part 2

2008-11-16T00:19:00.000-06:00

Apparently saying "Thank you so much" in San Antonio is the equivalent of saying "I love you and want to have your babies so please illegally look up my phone number and text stalk me at 4 in the morning" anywhere else.

Things I have learned this week...

2008-11-06T07:36:00.002-06:00

There is a Tyrannosaurus Rex running around in the middle of the Earth. Mmm hmm. It's true. Journey to the Center of the Earth said so.

There's a scene where Brendan Fraser is running from TR (as he is known by his friends), and the ground cracks open and TR falls down into the abyss. Here's my question...where is he going to land? He's already in the middle of the Earth, so if he falls through that ground is he going to end up in like China or something?

These are important things I think we all need to think about.

Heavy hearted...

2008-11-05T15:24:00.001-06:00

Heavy hearted...
I've been staring at this empty screen trying to find words that make sense. Words that express the shock and heaviness I'm feeling. I very rarely venture into politics discussions. I've witnessed very few that don't end in people angry and yelling at each other because someone does not agree with their point of view. This is why there are parties. Because not everyone believes the same things. It doesn't necessarily mean one is right and one is wrong. Just makes us each different, and we should all respect that. If I like apples, but you like oranges, are you going to rip my head off because of it? No. I respect everyone's right to have their own opinion and admire the people who got out and voted to support it. However, this election has me stunned.

The main issue in this election that was most important to me is abortion. I am 100% against any and all forms of it, and I will openly admit that to anyone who asks. I, in NO WAY, judge anyone who has had one. I know that it was not an easy decision for any woman who has chosen it, and would not dare say what I would do in a similar situation. I understand where a person can say it's not the governments role to dictate what a woman can do with her own body. Okay, I can stand behind that argument. However, we're not talking about tattoos or piercings or boob jobs. We're talking about a baby. It's a living being. Why is it not okay for a government to tell a woman what to do with her body, but it's okay for the woman to dictate what to do with a baby's body? This absolutely breaks my heart. I understand traumatic situations can happen, but to hear our new president-elect say that if a woman "makes a mistake", why should she be "punished" with a baby?!?! I'm sorry, but I thought it was pretty common knowledge that sex can equal baby. Most people know that going into it and are willing to take that risk.

It is also my understanding that this man wants to overturn a ruling that makes partial birth abortion illegal. This makes me nauseous. Does everyone understand exactly what partial birth abortion is? It means the doctor can pull the baby's entire body out feet first, but as long as the child's head is still inside the mother, the pregnancy can be terminated. Meaning this baby's beating heart is a part of this world, yet it can still be killed. I'll leave it up to Google to explain to you how exactly they terminate that little baby. I guarantee you it's disgusting. What the heck is wrong with someone who can say this is ok? Push one more time and give that baby to someone who wants it.

I understand this is not a major issue for some people. Abortion is low on the list behind economy and healthcare. That's your prerogative, and I will respect that. But that absolutely terrifies me. What has happened to this world when people are more interested in their 401(k)'s than what crimes are being committed against a newborn's beating heart? When did this world become so desensitized? Every single other issue aside, the fact that a man who supports a child who has survived such horrifc acts being denied medical help and left alone to die, can be elected to run this country? That absolutely terrifies me to my core. I don't understand how we got to this place.

I sat in a meeting this morning at work and listened to some of my co-workers hash it out about who should've done what and who said this and why didn't he do that. It was all lies. Grown men lying and conniving and blaming one another for things they did themselves just so the finger doesn't point back to them. For what reason? Be a man and say yes, I said that, here's why. Yes, I did that and here's why. What happened to honesty? What happened to integrity? I walked out of that office feeling more hopeless than I have in a long time.

It seems people focus on the "big issues" so much that they don't see how much the little things are starting to wear away at us. Listen to the song "Slow Fade" by Casting Crowns. I'm not saying I'm perfect, and that I do everything right. I have done some things that I absolutely swore I would never do, yet I allowed myself to slowly let my guard down. To slowly inch closer to disaster. Eventually, those little, baby steps will lead you right off a cliff. My heart breaks for where things are headed, and I'm scared to see where this road is leading, but I will keep my faith in the One who wrote the story. As long as we keep looking up, we'll be ok. He's the only one who'll be able to offer true "hope" and "change."