The other night we were in bed by eleven. That is early by our standards. My mom called at 12:30, I was so deep in R.E.M sleep I never heard the phone ring. She called again at 1:00 AM. Didn't hear that either.
At a reasonable hour in the morning I saw that I missed two phone calls from her that late at night; I worried and was nervous to hear the messages. Turns out it was a drunk dial. Yes, my mom drunk dials me and vice versa.
"OHMYGAWDOHMYGAWDOHMYGAWD! WAKEUP! WAKEUP! I MET DANMAJERLE! DAN! MAJERLE! WANTS TO TALK TO YOU"*
Huh? Now, back in the day I used to think Dan Majerle was the hottest ball player after B.J. Armstrong disappeared (where did he go? Anyone know?). Phoenix Suns became my favorite team after the Bulls Dynasty fell. Majerle was hot. Then again, I was in high school and he was younger.
How cool that my mom remembered in her drunken state, right? Well, that was the first message...
"(DAUGHTER) YOU JUST MISSED DANMAJERLE...DAN! (DAUGHTER) DAN MAJERLE WAS IN MY CAR. OHMYGAWD CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? IN MY CAR! YOU MISSED HIM!"
Huh? My first thought was how did Dan Majerle get in her car and why? Then I checked the timing on the calls; they are half an hour apart. Why would Dan Majerle hang out that long with my mom? Why?
Then my mind went to that dark place that puts two and two together. My mom is drunk. It is past midnight. She is with a ball player. Player. They were both in her car at night. They were together for at least half an hour. What if she hooked up....NO, that couldn't be...could it? He is married with kids, but still, ew. That doesn't even worry me that much because if you knew my mother you'd know how crazy she is and there are no boundaries. A hook up didn't even need to happen for me to be embarrassed.
The question still remains: Why was he in her car?
I'm so scared to call her back and get the scoop.
*All CAPS because my mom likes to yell when she is drunk, wait--she likes to yell all the time.
Thursday, March 31
Wednesday, March 30
?: They Call it a Question Mark
Who knew that organizing four people to help organize a party would be so stressful? Wait let's back this truck up. Who knew getting 4 people to reply to a question on email would be so stressful?
It's email. The quickest form of communication today. You read it and reply. It's that easy, right? You especially reply if there is a ? at the end of the email.
Maybe I am crazy.
I sent an email to 4 people and none of them have replied to the question---none. I went back several times and re-read the email myself to make sure there was a ?. There is a ? so why no reply? Was my email rude? No. The email was about organizing a shower for a friend who picked them to be in her wedding. Shouldn't they be excited to reply.
Here is the crazy deal: a couple have replied, couple here does mean two, but they both chose to ignore the question.
A copy of e-etiquette definitely needs to be sent to them ASAP.
Yes, No, or a I don't care would suffice as an answer, just answer me!
It's email. The quickest form of communication today. You read it and reply. It's that easy, right? You especially reply if there is a ? at the end of the email.
Maybe I am crazy.
I sent an email to 4 people and none of them have replied to the question---none. I went back several times and re-read the email myself to make sure there was a ?. There is a ? so why no reply? Was my email rude? No. The email was about organizing a shower for a friend who picked them to be in her wedding. Shouldn't they be excited to reply.
Here is the crazy deal: a couple have replied, couple here does mean two, but they both chose to ignore the question.
A copy of e-etiquette definitely needs to be sent to them ASAP.
Yes, No, or a I don't care would suffice as an answer, just answer me!
Things That Make You Go Hmm...
Is it just me or is Eric Roberts the new creepy guy in videos? First; he is seen stalking Mariah Carey in her new video (which I love, still hate her, but love the song). Then he is seen in The Killers video as jealous; all the while still creepy.
Just a thought.
Just a thought.
1 Mojito, 2 Mojito...
Yesterday afternoon, I received a highly known award at my company. Whoo hoo! Yeah talk about ironic. Just when I am trying to get out, they reel me back in. How can I leave when I am at the number one spot at my current job? Don't worry, right job and I will leave...I think. I was very shocked and honored to get the award. You know we had to go celebrate. Me and my work buddy and friends went out to Republic. Republic is well known for making the best frozen mojito in town. No Lucky mentions. Plus the drinks are $4 during happy hour. I wasn't paying the bill last night; so I drank on and on. Then we went to Jake's, where the best burgers in town are. That's just my own opinion. They also have the best bloody mary's---again, that's just me. So there I went, eating and drinking like it was my last day on Earth. I knew there would be consequences this morning; so my drunk self put a green bottle of our new fave BORBA in the freezer. Perfect opportunity to test out the Sephora sales girl's theory. It is ten times better as a slush. No hangover, headache, or nausea. I'm at work bright and chipper as if nothing happened. This is my last time; go get you some, it works. Word.
Brush with Celeb
Me and Jannie Nails got a weird thing going on. I love the cheap price of a mani/pedi combo ($27). I love the fact that they scrub your feet till they are smooth as the day you were born. I love the huge massaging chairs. I love that they have up to date current magazines. This may be enough for your nail salon.
I hate the walls.
The walls are bare and white. Nothing is pleasing to the eye. Plus, they need a fresh coat of paint, like yesterday. Usually this would not bother me and I would care less. That's if they didn't have two items on their wall. Next to the nail polish tree cabinet deal are two framed articles from Lucky. Each one claims that Jannie's is the best in town. Uhm--okay. If I were Jannie and a national magazine toted me as the best; you better believe I put some decor up on and give the place a Trading Places like makeover. If I were new and walked in, I'd walk right back out, no matter how wonderful Lucky said it is. I keep going for the scrub downs and I am cheap.
I went on Good Friday. Let me add this, first, I went and scouted out two other places to get a pedicure and they were overpriced and busy; in that order, so I went to Jannie's.
Please read this and let me know if I am a crazy nail snob or something. Something may be wrong with me to expect nail salons to obtain a nice decor because guess who walked in?
Angie Harmon.
I didn't pee my pants because she is not Jennifer Lopez. I could rant on about how she showed up to the Republican National Convention, but I won't.
If it's good enough for a non-high profile celeb should it be good enough for me?
I hate the walls.
The walls are bare and white. Nothing is pleasing to the eye. Plus, they need a fresh coat of paint, like yesterday. Usually this would not bother me and I would care less. That's if they didn't have two items on their wall. Next to the nail polish tree cabinet deal are two framed articles from Lucky. Each one claims that Jannie's is the best in town. Uhm--okay. If I were Jannie and a national magazine toted me as the best; you better believe I put some decor up on and give the place a Trading Places like makeover. If I were new and walked in, I'd walk right back out, no matter how wonderful Lucky said it is. I keep going for the scrub downs and I am cheap.
I went on Good Friday. Let me add this, first, I went and scouted out two other places to get a pedicure and they were overpriced and busy; in that order, so I went to Jannie's.
Please read this and let me know if I am a crazy nail snob or something. Something may be wrong with me to expect nail salons to obtain a nice decor because guess who walked in?
Angie Harmon.
I didn't pee my pants because she is not Jennifer Lopez. I could rant on about how she showed up to the Republican National Convention, but I won't.
If it's good enough for a non-high profile celeb should it be good enough for me?
Tuesday, March 29
Teeny Pebbles Get Me High
I have so much to say and fill you in on; but let's start with BORBA water:
I didn't believe all the magazine hype-ola about this new product months back. These flavored waters contain vitamins and such that re-hydrate, detoxify, and replenish you. Supposedly each bottle contains the daily amount of vitamin you are supposed to intake each day. I don't take vitamins. I have a huge gag reflex when it comes to big pills in my mouth. I was even more skeptical when the Sephora sales girl was selling me Borba. She gave me a taste. It was good. Then she told me a story of how she was hungover and had to work. She took the green water and poof! hangover gone. I bought a couple of bottles. Now you'd think that $2.50 for some juice is expensive, but there are vitamins contained and I justified it with the fact that I pay the overprice for FIJI water and that is so worth it. Once you go FIJI it's so hard to go back to Ozarka. I like Ozarka but I love FIJI. I am not Jessica Simpson and my fridge isn't packed with FIJI; but when it's on a sale I go to town. Back to Borba. I can sum it up by saying; if they sold it for $10 a bottle; I'd buy it. It's that good. They say it's packed with vitamins and I may have to protest, I think there may be some crack in it. I got high on the pink juice. It took me four hours to drink an 8 ounce bottle. The water was pomengrante flavored but you have to shake the bottle up real good before drinking. Vitamin debris and all sorts of good for your body elements can be seen floating in the bottle and they are quite a surprise when you find them in your mouth and are about to swallow what you think is just water. Once you get past all that shaking and drinking; there is the last few gulps left in the bottle. The only thing I can compare this to is Pepto because it gets thicker towards the bottom. Of course, if you are a good shaker you don't need to worry. I wasn't and the last gulps were met with what I could describe as teeny pebbles of sand.
So, yeah if I had such a hard time getting it down, why am I in love with it?
It is all about the high afterwards that lasted all day. Call me crazy but I feel as if my body is more cleansed. Probably because I've had to pee every half hour as a side effect.
Go get you some; supposedly it's healthy for you.
I didn't believe all the magazine hype-ola about this new product months back. These flavored waters contain vitamins and such that re-hydrate, detoxify, and replenish you. Supposedly each bottle contains the daily amount of vitamin you are supposed to intake each day. I don't take vitamins. I have a huge gag reflex when it comes to big pills in my mouth. I was even more skeptical when the Sephora sales girl was selling me Borba. She gave me a taste. It was good. Then she told me a story of how she was hungover and had to work. She took the green water and poof! hangover gone. I bought a couple of bottles. Now you'd think that $2.50 for some juice is expensive, but there are vitamins contained and I justified it with the fact that I pay the overprice for FIJI water and that is so worth it. Once you go FIJI it's so hard to go back to Ozarka. I like Ozarka but I love FIJI. I am not Jessica Simpson and my fridge isn't packed with FIJI; but when it's on a sale I go to town. Back to Borba. I can sum it up by saying; if they sold it for $10 a bottle; I'd buy it. It's that good. They say it's packed with vitamins and I may have to protest, I think there may be some crack in it. I got high on the pink juice. It took me four hours to drink an 8 ounce bottle. The water was pomengrante flavored but you have to shake the bottle up real good before drinking. Vitamin debris and all sorts of good for your body elements can be seen floating in the bottle and they are quite a surprise when you find them in your mouth and are about to swallow what you think is just water. Once you get past all that shaking and drinking; there is the last few gulps left in the bottle. The only thing I can compare this to is Pepto because it gets thicker towards the bottom. Of course, if you are a good shaker you don't need to worry. I wasn't and the last gulps were met with what I could describe as teeny pebbles of sand.
So, yeah if I had such a hard time getting it down, why am I in love with it?
It is all about the high afterwards that lasted all day. Call me crazy but I feel as if my body is more cleansed. Probably because I've had to pee every half hour as a side effect.
Go get you some; supposedly it's healthy for you.
Monday, March 28
Huh? (Interview Update)
I met with the owner of the PR agency that is hiring. She was this tiny thing of a woman; I could take her down if it came to it. When would that happen? Huh.
I waited for what seemed like half an hour but was really ten minutes in the conference room. While waiting the woman who interviewed me on Friday came in and gave me a hug. Oh, yeah I love it here. Downtown views, office with walls, and hugs. Too bad she is not the final decision because I have a feeling I would be there now filling out human resource paperwork. She left me to wait some more. The room I was waiting in has glass doors and I could see the next interviewee arrive. She was tall and a bit underdressed if you ask me, but no one did. Then teeny tiny PR agency Owner walked in. She had no emotion; she spoke to me like I was a cardboard box. It was mildly tough and I made it through it. Now, I am unsure where I stand. If it weren't for that hug, I'd be expecting one of those letters in the mail. Now, I'll keep my fingers crossed for one of those offers that come by telephone.
I waited for what seemed like half an hour but was really ten minutes in the conference room. While waiting the woman who interviewed me on Friday came in and gave me a hug. Oh, yeah I love it here. Downtown views, office with walls, and hugs. Too bad she is not the final decision because I have a feeling I would be there now filling out human resource paperwork. She left me to wait some more. The room I was waiting in has glass doors and I could see the next interviewee arrive. She was tall and a bit underdressed if you ask me, but no one did. Then teeny tiny PR agency Owner walked in. She had no emotion; she spoke to me like I was a cardboard box. It was mildly tough and I made it through it. Now, I am unsure where I stand. If it weren't for that hug, I'd be expecting one of those letters in the mail. Now, I'll keep my fingers crossed for one of those offers that come by telephone.
I'm Going for That Number One Spot
Why is it the moment you start looking for another job your current job immediately sucks? I love my manager and I really like my job and now all of a sudden, just turning on my computer at my desk sucks. Going to the bathroom in this office sucks. Answering the phone, helping a client, listening to my co-workers recant of his weekend---all of it sucks.
Why would I leave if I love my manager and like my job---hmm? I have been here a year and a half and told myself that by year 2; I need to be promoted or out. The problem is that there is no room for upward mobility in my field here in our Dallas office. I would need to move to our NYC headquarters. That is not happening: long story and I am not good at making those shorter. So, I have been on the hunt and since the hunt has started, the more my current situation sucks. As much as I think it sucks; part of me thinks, could I really leave this place? Then a really good interview happened. Really good. A second one is lined up for today. Inside my nerves are a wreck. Everyone's wishing me luck. Somehow, I still have that awkward feeling.
Smitten sums it up nicely.
Why would I leave if I love my manager and like my job---hmm? I have been here a year and a half and told myself that by year 2; I need to be promoted or out. The problem is that there is no room for upward mobility in my field here in our Dallas office. I would need to move to our NYC headquarters. That is not happening: long story and I am not good at making those shorter. So, I have been on the hunt and since the hunt has started, the more my current situation sucks. As much as I think it sucks; part of me thinks, could I really leave this place? Then a really good interview happened. Really good. A second one is lined up for today. Inside my nerves are a wreck. Everyone's wishing me luck. Somehow, I still have that awkward feeling.
Smitten sums it up nicely.
Wednesday, March 23
G-U-Nit, G-U-Nit, G-U-Nit
Everywhere I look, there is he is, Fifty Cent. Or as well know him as: Fiffy. How many singles is one artist allowed at one time on the radio waves?
Is there a law? There should be. He's taking us to the Candy Shop--which I think it's just Magic Stick with new words and a Lil' Kim replacement. We all know there is no real replacing of Lil' Kim. He and Lloyd Banks are tearing up with Disco Inferno telling us to shake, shake, shake that ass. So original. Then he had to get all sentimental and devote a ballad-rap to his mama...aww, fiffy you too kind. But not so kind that you are everywhere over-exposing yourself making me want to throw my radio out the car window and smash my MTV.
Please, back it up, a little.
Is there a law? There should be. He's taking us to the Candy Shop--which I think it's just Magic Stick with new words and a Lil' Kim replacement. We all know there is no real replacing of Lil' Kim. He and Lloyd Banks are tearing up with Disco Inferno telling us to shake, shake, shake that ass. So original. Then he had to get all sentimental and devote a ballad-rap to his mama...aww, fiffy you too kind. But not so kind that you are everywhere over-exposing yourself making me want to throw my radio out the car window and smash my MTV.
Please, back it up, a little.
Tar Baby
After church we went to the lake and I got my first ever Black person sun burn. Did you know that could happen? I get darker in the Summer, yes. I didn't know I could get red in the Spring. I was just as red as my white boyfriend---now you know something is wrong with that! I think I made fun of too many people with sun burns before, but never again. Never, again. I will also invest in SPF 45 and a big, huge beach hat because that's what you are supposed to do when you are sitting on a boat in the middle of a lake at 85 degrees outside. This hurts and the peeling is gross. I don't know how people do this?
mumble mumble..Amen.
I went to church on Sunday.
and that is what we call a moment of silence. I made it out alive and un-burned, is that a word? My devoted Catholic boyfriend attends mass regularly, by that, I mean twice a month. Plus, he goes to Confession during the week, when needed. Note, I am not dating a religious freak, he just keeps the tradition that his parents installed in him. I love him, so. He has never asked for me to accompany him and I prefer it that way. But it was Palm Sunday and we had a whole day planned for afterwards--which didn't include house shopping--thanks to my previous night's indiscretion. He asked if I would go and I said, the wrong answer of, yes. I'm Catholic. I gave up fast food for Lent this year. I have not been to Church in ages which led to me mumbling through a lot of prayers and looking like a Catholic groupie. Since I used to be a Jewish groupie, I can only assume that Catholic groupies exist as well?!?!? I was so embarrassed, I looked cute, but still was so shamed. I don't know how I pulled it off. Thank goodness there is prayer in unison. All I had to do was mumble in tune with everyone else. I knew when it was time for communion probably because it's eating and drinking wine. Who doesn't know when it's time to eat and drink? The only prayer I knew was the Lord's Prayer, partly because back in the day when my family went every Sunday, I knew that Lord's Prayer time meant it was almost quitting time. Closer to the family brunch time. See, I if it has to do with food, I'll remember.
and that is what we call a moment of silence. I made it out alive and un-burned, is that a word? My devoted Catholic boyfriend attends mass regularly, by that, I mean twice a month. Plus, he goes to Confession during the week, when needed. Note, I am not dating a religious freak, he just keeps the tradition that his parents installed in him. I love him, so. He has never asked for me to accompany him and I prefer it that way. But it was Palm Sunday and we had a whole day planned for afterwards--which didn't include house shopping--thanks to my previous night's indiscretion. He asked if I would go and I said, the wrong answer of, yes. I'm Catholic. I gave up fast food for Lent this year. I have not been to Church in ages which led to me mumbling through a lot of prayers and looking like a Catholic groupie. Since I used to be a Jewish groupie, I can only assume that Catholic groupies exist as well?!?!? I was so embarrassed, I looked cute, but still was so shamed. I don't know how I pulled it off. Thank goodness there is prayer in unison. All I had to do was mumble in tune with everyone else. I knew when it was time for communion probably because it's eating and drinking wine. Who doesn't know when it's time to eat and drink? The only prayer I knew was the Lord's Prayer, partly because back in the day when my family went every Sunday, I knew that Lord's Prayer time meant it was almost quitting time. Closer to the family brunch time. See, I if it has to do with food, I'll remember.
Friday, March 18
A Hat Dance, if you will
Last night I had a very interesting dinner. I don't want to bore you with the details but just one of the few highlights. Our mediocre waitress approached the table mid-way through dinner. She told us she had a note from the guy at the next table. She dangled the folded napkin in front of us. I quickly grabbed it. 1. This has never happened to me before and it's been a restaurant fantasy for a long time. If you cannot make your own fantasies come true, who will? 2. The note's author was wearing a fun hat. Anyone with a fun hat is bound to be fun.
The note read: Are you a lawyer? Checkboxes for yes, no, and Hell no.
Hmmm....this is bound to get interesting. I checked "yes", duh. It was time to bring on my alter ego, too bad Aerin was with us because that is my alias. Spelled exactly like that---A-E-R-I-N. Note, my friend Aerin does not spell her name like that; she spells is "Erin" but I decided she needed some flair when I first met her; so it is always Aerin when she is around me and when I need to give an easier name to restaurant hostesses. My name is too complicated. When I'm at the local eatery waiting for a table, it's Aerin not Erin. There is a difference.
I checked yes because if I wasn't so lazy when it comes to education, I'd be a first year or second year lawyer or a picketing lobbyist in D.C.
Of course there was a fun hat involved.
Fun Hatter laughed and said he won the bet. Do we look like lawyers? Apparently, yes. Aerin who is no fun when it comes to ad libbing opted out and said she wasn't one. Ugh. Whatev.
He then looked at AP and she said "no" as well, to which Fun Hatter responded "But you are married to one, right?" WHOA. A fun hat and he apparently has ESP because she is married to a lawyer. Fun Hatter took his premonition one step further and asked her if her husband worked at Thomson and Knight.
I'm freaked out; is Fun Hatter a stalker? or is he, too a lawyer?
Not even close---he is an insurance salesman that cold calls on lawyers. Great. His table buddies were embarrassed and looked like they were in pain when he explained his job to us. I had the feeling that he was used to this. Does he restaurant hop each night sending innocent looking women notes on paper napkins? Is that a new sales tactic?
I hope he can do better than that, seriously he was wearing a fun hat for goodness sake BUT we were at Chuy's.
The note read: Are you a lawyer? Checkboxes for yes, no, and Hell no.
Hmmm....this is bound to get interesting. I checked "yes", duh. It was time to bring on my alter ego, too bad Aerin was with us because that is my alias. Spelled exactly like that---A-E-R-I-N. Note, my friend Aerin does not spell her name like that; she spells is "Erin" but I decided she needed some flair when I first met her; so it is always Aerin when she is around me and when I need to give an easier name to restaurant hostesses. My name is too complicated. When I'm at the local eatery waiting for a table, it's Aerin not Erin. There is a difference.
I checked yes because if I wasn't so lazy when it comes to education, I'd be a first year or second year lawyer or a picketing lobbyist in D.C.
Of course there was a fun hat involved.
Fun Hatter laughed and said he won the bet. Do we look like lawyers? Apparently, yes. Aerin who is no fun when it comes to ad libbing opted out and said she wasn't one. Ugh. Whatev.
He then looked at AP and she said "no" as well, to which Fun Hatter responded "But you are married to one, right?" WHOA. A fun hat and he apparently has ESP because she is married to a lawyer. Fun Hatter took his premonition one step further and asked her if her husband worked at Thomson and Knight.
I'm freaked out; is Fun Hatter a stalker? or is he, too a lawyer?
Not even close---he is an insurance salesman that cold calls on lawyers. Great. His table buddies were embarrassed and looked like they were in pain when he explained his job to us. I had the feeling that he was used to this. Does he restaurant hop each night sending innocent looking women notes on paper napkins? Is that a new sales tactic?
I hope he can do better than that, seriously he was wearing a fun hat for goodness sake BUT we were at Chuy's.
Thursday, March 17
Sugar & Spice
Our office is all women right now. The men are off for bracket-angst viewership. So this is what its like to work in an all female office. I like it. So far, we've had breakfast--which was really brunch with the traditional breakfast food and freshly squeezed orange juice. I want everything freshly squeezed from now on. It arrived at noon; the delivery man was late. It was supposed to be breakfast and he got to meet an angry hungry editor who told him how to use a cell phone when you are lost. I'd pay to see that again. From that mistake the bakery sent over dessert trays. Free brunch and dessert. You can hear giggles. My (office) twin came to my desk three times with websites that carried long white skirts for my shopping pleasure. Yeah, I'm still on that. I have an (office) twin. We are the same. Everyone says so, so I thought I'd join in and stop fighting the majority. Except, she is white and pregnant with her second child in under a year of the first born's birth. We do both share a love for salacious celeb gossip, girl crushes on Leah Remini--even though she met Remini while interning at ET: Entertainment Tonight (uhm hmm), she's catholic and her husband is Jewish--Ok Incredible is Catholic but once upon a time I only had Jew Fever, we have the same style and sport the exact same clothes some days, and we are the funniest/wittiest people in the office. I agree but that whole ET stint makes her my arch nemesis. With the men gone (office) twin also bought some fresh flowers for the office today. All our TVs are set on soap operas, guess we'll huddle around to watch Oprah later. Read the sarcasm: Oprah. Tomorrow (office) twin is bringing her baby in for the day. Yah! Our top boss is a man so she'll get away with it. Especially since all the other women here have such baby envy. You just need to mention uterus and they all go "aww" in unison. No men is kind of nice. Maybe tomorrow we'll knit and braid each other's hair. Someone mentioned having an afternoon snack brought in...maybe a high English tea so we can do this women bonding properly.
Things That Make You Go "hmm...?"
Ty Pennington and I go way back. I was there stalking his butt in 2002 when they did a Trading Spaces in the 'hood. I was also there when he did an autograph signing at a Home Expo. Home Expo, me? Ha. So I feel that I can be honest with this latest rant. He made all the girls giddy on Trading Spaces and now he makes them cry on Extreme Home Makeover. He makes me gag with his Sears commercials. He is now the official spokesman for the chain; he'd better be careful because he could wind up like Thom Filicia. I know, different store but same trendy carpenter/designer scenario. Retailers are scooping up the latest and trendiest of who is happening to represent. That is nothing new. For me, they are scooping the peeps that are just well known enough and have not hit overexposed, yet. Case being: Thom of the Fab 5. They were everywhere and then Pier 1 grabbed him and fired Kirstie Alley--what the hell was she doing?!? Now, Thom is fired and the Fab 5 seem to be a Bravo mystery. I'd hate to see that happen to Ty, but I can so see it. Here's why. I can see him as the spokesman for the Auto, Lawncare, and possibly Furniture departments of Sears.
When I am watching television and the commercial break consists of Ty running around with a mother/daughters team looking for new clothes and questioning the color blue, a question pops into my head. WHY?
Now, he is running allover Sears amongst Easter colored clothing telling the audience Sears is where it is at and I think: his star may be dwindling because this just looks odd to me. Shouldn't Kirstie Alley be the one peddling for Sears? Think about it.
When I am watching television and the commercial break consists of Ty running around with a mother/daughters team looking for new clothes and questioning the color blue, a question pops into my head. WHY?
Now, he is running allover Sears amongst Easter colored clothing telling the audience Sears is where it is at and I think: his star may be dwindling because this just looks odd to me. Shouldn't Kirstie Alley be the one peddling for Sears? Think about it.
Lesbians and Fainters, Oh My!
You know what America's Next Top Model needs? More Nigel Barker. Not a bisexual model or a fainter. Such dramatics; give me the simple back in the day entertainment of oggling a hot man. Correction: Hot, tall, British man. We need more of it.
Michelle/Michael came out the closet after freaking out over the fear of getting locked in Stuart Weitzman's closet. I'd gladly be locked up in that hole. She came out and her fear was that none of the girls would accept her (it is 2005) and it has been freaking her out over the smallest stuff. They did accept her and to prove it, Brandy and Noelle engaged in some sister love hair twirling and some questionable petting while Michelle/Michael explains while Tiffany holds her close. Lesbian love everywhere! Then it was time for the cutest photo shoot all around: 1-800-FLOWERS, ten dogs, and one hot half dressed flower vendor of a man. They all did great; but I'm not Tyra, and then it was off to the most dramatic elimination ceremony, ever. The girls had to wear potato sacks and pass them off as couture gowns on the catwalk. No matter what strut they did; all I saw was potato sack. Then it was time...Rebecca's eyes literally rolled to the back of her head and she fainted. Uhm hmm Tyra that is what you get for getting rid of the one model who looked like she ate. BAM! She hit the floor hard. I'm a bit skeptical as to why she wasn't bleeding or needing stitches for a cracked skull. We heard that BAM twice and it was LOUD and that floor looks like wood to me, so...hmmm. She scared the shit out of everyone including Tyra. She was fine and made it back for deliberations, seems she has the condition which was not fully explained or I just missed. Rebecca made it to the next round out of sheer pity because once again, for reasons unknown to me, they got rid of the next pretty model, after Brita, which was Sarah and kept the porn star wannabe Brittany; who time and time again was told to de-sexify her look throughout the show.
Michelle/Michael came out the closet after freaking out over the fear of getting locked in Stuart Weitzman's closet. I'd gladly be locked up in that hole. She came out and her fear was that none of the girls would accept her (it is 2005) and it has been freaking her out over the smallest stuff. They did accept her and to prove it, Brandy and Noelle engaged in some sister love hair twirling and some questionable petting while Michelle/Michael explains while Tiffany holds her close. Lesbian love everywhere! Then it was time for the cutest photo shoot all around: 1-800-FLOWERS, ten dogs, and one hot half dressed flower vendor of a man. They all did great; but I'm not Tyra, and then it was off to the most dramatic elimination ceremony, ever. The girls had to wear potato sacks and pass them off as couture gowns on the catwalk. No matter what strut they did; all I saw was potato sack. Then it was time...Rebecca's eyes literally rolled to the back of her head and she fainted. Uhm hmm Tyra that is what you get for getting rid of the one model who looked like she ate. BAM! She hit the floor hard. I'm a bit skeptical as to why she wasn't bleeding or needing stitches for a cracked skull. We heard that BAM twice and it was LOUD and that floor looks like wood to me, so...hmmm. She scared the shit out of everyone including Tyra. She was fine and made it back for deliberations, seems she has the condition which was not fully explained or I just missed. Rebecca made it to the next round out of sheer pity because once again, for reasons unknown to me, they got rid of the next pretty model, after Brita, which was Sarah and kept the porn star wannabe Brittany; who time and time again was told to de-sexify her look throughout the show.
Wednesday, March 16
Eating My Words
I hate cartoons. This needs an all caps sentence: I HATE CARTOONS. Bring on the hater comments. I do and I am not ashamed. I especially hate Disney cartoons of late. Everything made after "The Lion King"...grrr, gets on my last nerve. I cannot explain it. I just think it is dumb. Don't get me started on "Shrek". Everyone loved it. I didn't. I won't even waste the time to give the sequel a chance because that chance was the first and original and I hated it. "Finding Nemo"...hmm, I don't want to piss anyone off, so let's just say it lasted ten minutes.
When I was a child and all my other friends woke up early to catch weekend cartoons, I was watching "Annie" for the 100th time. I never watched cartoons.
I know they are funny and most entertain the adult who is watching along with their child. It's not that. Since the age of five, I just prefer real-live action entertainment.
At the Oscar party I attended, a couple really insisted that I rent "The Incredibles" when it comes on DVD. Huh? I gave them my argument and told them my story of animationism. They counteracted with the same views and thoughts of cartoons--they, too hated them. Yahoo--I was not alone. Then "The Incredibles" went and won an Oscar. They cheered and turned to me and said; "You must rent it. It is hilarious".
Okay, but didn't "Finding Nemo" win last year? They told me to put it all behind and just rent the darn thing.
You can only imagine that I am also dating a man with the same views but his is more: Why watch cartoons when we don't have kids? Exactly! We don't watch SpongeBob.
Last night was cold and I planned a grilled cheese and tomato soup dinner. Incredible went to Blockbuster. He called me; "Hey, there is one 'Incredibles' left...what do you think?" (there is some irony in here somewhere)
Uh...uh...eh...
I gave in. Five minutes in, brain racking guessing Holly Hunter's voice, and I was in. HILARIOUS. That was the most genius cartoon I have seen to date. Thank goodness for no late fees, I plan on watching that puppy one more time.
When I was a child and all my other friends woke up early to catch weekend cartoons, I was watching "Annie" for the 100th time. I never watched cartoons.
I know they are funny and most entertain the adult who is watching along with their child. It's not that. Since the age of five, I just prefer real-live action entertainment.
At the Oscar party I attended, a couple really insisted that I rent "The Incredibles" when it comes on DVD. Huh? I gave them my argument and told them my story of animationism. They counteracted with the same views and thoughts of cartoons--they, too hated them. Yahoo--I was not alone. Then "The Incredibles" went and won an Oscar. They cheered and turned to me and said; "You must rent it. It is hilarious".
Okay, but didn't "Finding Nemo" win last year? They told me to put it all behind and just rent the darn thing.
You can only imagine that I am also dating a man with the same views but his is more: Why watch cartoons when we don't have kids? Exactly! We don't watch SpongeBob.
Last night was cold and I planned a grilled cheese and tomato soup dinner. Incredible went to Blockbuster. He called me; "Hey, there is one 'Incredibles' left...what do you think?" (there is some irony in here somewhere)
Uh...uh...eh...
I gave in. Five minutes in, brain racking guessing Holly Hunter's voice, and I was in. HILARIOUS. That was the most genius cartoon I have seen to date. Thank goodness for no late fees, I plan on watching that puppy one more time.
LOL
The Ex-the one who has found God recently hates my laugh. Whenever I laughed in private or publicly; he'd give me this scorn look. One day he told me that I sounded like a hyena on crack. Props for his sense of humor. I learned to tone down my laugh to a chuckle or a simple "hee hee". It was more lady-like. The things you do for "love". We know now that was not "love". You may think you have heard my genuine original laugh and if you knew me way before he did, you have heard it. Sometimes it creeps out every now and again; but I quickly shut it down, thinking straight back to it's ugliness as I was told. Talk about Pavlov's dog syndrome. A week ago, it was accidentally let out while watching Amazing Race; I don't remember what was so funny. Incredible turned to me and asked; "What was that?" I was so embarrassed. "Do it again" he said. It's not a stupid human trick. Then while we were house hunting, the laugh was let out again. If I were white; I would've been red. That laugh came out in front of realtors and another couple...Incredible laughed. When we were in the car; he asked to hear it again. Dude, seriously. Since then he has done a lot to get me to laugh out loud like that. I'm talking dumb stuff; in public and privately. Last night he took hold and tickled the crap out of me; "Do the laugh! Do the laugh!" he demanded. Not only did I do it but I was laughing like a little girl with no worries; pure, excited laughter that can come only from deep in the belly. My sides hurt. My abdomen is sore; I'll be thankful later. After he cooled down, he told me; "I love your laugh".
Tuesday, March 15
Candy-Cam
Thank goodness I didn't give up chocolate for Lent. I love Cadbury Eggs. They make my slow day at the office a little more bearable (besides email paranoia). At Walgreen's they are 2 for $1. Nice.
I have an entire basket at my desk. I bought this basket to work last Tuesday. It is not to be confused with the community candy tray that sits about 5 feet away from my desk. Every month or more like each week when the bowl is empty, candy lasts a week around here, someone buys more candy and fills the bowl up. There is another bowl in a different department. The cheap department. Their bowl is never full of candy treats. Since everyone has to walk by my department to leave the office; that other department always puts their hand in our bowl. No one minds. That was the case until today when I realized that my personal candy bowl is being mistaken for the communal candy bowl. Not that I was counting, well I was eye-balling it---these are Cadbury Eggs for goodness sake! They only come once a year. Anyway, I was eye-balling my bowl and there was about 10 eggs in there this morning. I had one before lunch. There are now 2 eggs in my bowl. Two! WTF?!?!
I'm not selfish, really I'm not. This means that someone is taking eggs whenever I'm away from my desk. Sly. If they did so while I was here; it'd be fine. Since they are making it a Special-Ops event, I am mad. There is a candy jar three steps away from here and it has a diverse selection of candy to choose from...why mess with my eggs?
WHY?
I have an entire basket at my desk. I bought this basket to work last Tuesday. It is not to be confused with the community candy tray that sits about 5 feet away from my desk. Every month or more like each week when the bowl is empty, candy lasts a week around here, someone buys more candy and fills the bowl up. There is another bowl in a different department. The cheap department. Their bowl is never full of candy treats. Since everyone has to walk by my department to leave the office; that other department always puts their hand in our bowl. No one minds. That was the case until today when I realized that my personal candy bowl is being mistaken for the communal candy bowl. Not that I was counting, well I was eye-balling it---these are Cadbury Eggs for goodness sake! They only come once a year. Anyway, I was eye-balling my bowl and there was about 10 eggs in there this morning. I had one before lunch. There are now 2 eggs in my bowl. Two! WTF?!?!
I'm not selfish, really I'm not. This means that someone is taking eggs whenever I'm away from my desk. Sly. If they did so while I was here; it'd be fine. Since they are making it a Special-Ops event, I am mad. There is a candy jar three steps away from here and it has a diverse selection of candy to choose from...why mess with my eggs?
WHY?
Guilty
Uh-oh. Well the spinning worked and she is still speaking to me...thank goodness, but we have a hiccup.
See, when I was gossiping about her over email it was about her eating habits. I think she has a serious food/weight problem meaning she doesn't eat and yesterday she told me her best weight was 99 lbs.
HELLO?!? You can see why it was necessary to talk about that over email, right? She is 5'4" and is built like a 5th grader who never eats. Now I am not the expert on eating disorders and I realize it was wrong to talk about her like that because it could be a serious issue. But I'm at work, the office majority are women, and I don't know what kind of gossip goes around your office but here, we are catty, materialistic, and straight up conniving at times. I try not to fall prey to the gossip hounds but once you start you are in.
Today it seems like all is forgiven, she is speaking to me but she didn't eat lunch.
Uh-oh
See, when I was gossiping about her over email it was about her eating habits. I think she has a serious food/weight problem meaning she doesn't eat and yesterday she told me her best weight was 99 lbs.
HELLO?!? You can see why it was necessary to talk about that over email, right? She is 5'4" and is built like a 5th grader who never eats. Now I am not the expert on eating disorders and I realize it was wrong to talk about her like that because it could be a serious issue. But I'm at work, the office majority are women, and I don't know what kind of gossip goes around your office but here, we are catty, materialistic, and straight up conniving at times. I try not to fall prey to the gossip hounds but once you start you are in.
Today it seems like all is forgiven, she is speaking to me but she didn't eat lunch.
Uh-oh
Rumplestiltskin
Thanks to all those PR classes I took in college I was able to spin that email debacle into gold. Believe me, I was spinning fast. It did come with a con---the girl seems to not be speaking to me. Can we blame her? My problem is that she takes her lunch at my lunchtime and we are one of the few that bring in our own lunch and sit and chat in the breakroom. Guess I can kiss that goodbye. We'll see today if my spindoctor tactics work. If not, I want a full refund Ms. Menger!
Monday, March 14
Kiss Me, I'm Drunk
When I drink, I tend to forget plans that I made prior to the drinking and it gets me and in this case, others in big trouble. I was thisclose to breaking up with Incredible Saturday.
Uh huh. My Saturday started out like no other; I was drunk by noon. I am not a lush. I went to pre-St. Patrick's Day Parade party at 9AM. I had my usual Bloody Marys but not the usual breakfast. Mistake number one. At 10 AM we walked about half a mile to get to the parade, in the hot sun. While walking, we drank beer. Mistake number two. Oh. I forgot to tell you that I am not with Incredible, I am with Aerin and her raunchy wine selling friends. We watch the parade and then head to a house party, I had more beer. I think I can stop numbering the mistakes from here on out because it is all down hill from here. Also, note this is all from a shaky memory. After the party, we go to a block party hosted by a lot of bars. A lot of bars within ten steps of each other. A lot of bars. I think I may have yelled at the hot dog vendor because I was that hungry and that drunk. Somehow, we stumble into a restaurant and I get fed. My friend Kellie joined us and asked me where Incredible was...hmmm? In my drunken stupor that was the best question ever: Where the fuck was my boyfriend? Trying to solve that mystery, I drank some more. It is now 1PM. I'm drunk. The last time I was this drunk, this early in the day was the last day of finals my senior year in college and at Chuy's, much less. If you know my history with Chuy's--that's just funny all round. Then we run into Incredible's co-worker. I could stop this story right now and save myself the embarrassment to what comes next, but I think it's funny...so here we go: You know I was mad-mouthing my boyfriend to anyone who would listen at this point. Seriously I almost hooked up with Kellie, it was that bad and there would have been nothing wrong with that. Except I am very straight. Well, this co-worker's fiance is also the GM of Chuy's---ha ha ha ha ha---oh I may need to retell the Chuy's story for a refresher, someday, not now. The co-worker is solo. I ask him where his better half is; he replied with he didn't know where Incredible was--huh? NO--I meant that woman that whores it out for Chuy's that you are marrying in 2 months; not my dead beat "Fuck him" boyfriend. I'd like to thank Miller Lite for all the crap that came out of my mouth. He must've felt bad for me because he escorted me out the block party and made sure that I had some water and another hot dog. We sat on the curb and I mouthed off all my theories on while men are pigs and how some could eat shit and die...or something like that.
I made it home, safely and at 8PM was hungover. I woke up the next day with 10 voicemails from Incredible. Turns out my phone didn't work in the middle of a parade and I was supposed to meet him at 10 AM on the corner of something and something; so it was a worried mess trying to locate me and to sum it up I have the best boyfriend because then we went cruising on Sunday and today I received an embarrassing email from him. Apparently they gossip too at his job and co-worker spoke to him. As Incredible as he is, he only found the humor in the story. Gotta love him.
Uh huh. My Saturday started out like no other; I was drunk by noon. I am not a lush. I went to pre-St. Patrick's Day Parade party at 9AM. I had my usual Bloody Marys but not the usual breakfast. Mistake number one. At 10 AM we walked about half a mile to get to the parade, in the hot sun. While walking, we drank beer. Mistake number two. Oh. I forgot to tell you that I am not with Incredible, I am with Aerin and her raunchy wine selling friends. We watch the parade and then head to a house party, I had more beer. I think I can stop numbering the mistakes from here on out because it is all down hill from here. Also, note this is all from a shaky memory. After the party, we go to a block party hosted by a lot of bars. A lot of bars within ten steps of each other. A lot of bars. I think I may have yelled at the hot dog vendor because I was that hungry and that drunk. Somehow, we stumble into a restaurant and I get fed. My friend Kellie joined us and asked me where Incredible was...hmmm? In my drunken stupor that was the best question ever: Where the fuck was my boyfriend? Trying to solve that mystery, I drank some more. It is now 1PM. I'm drunk. The last time I was this drunk, this early in the day was the last day of finals my senior year in college and at Chuy's, much less. If you know my history with Chuy's--that's just funny all round. Then we run into Incredible's co-worker. I could stop this story right now and save myself the embarrassment to what comes next, but I think it's funny...so here we go: You know I was mad-mouthing my boyfriend to anyone who would listen at this point. Seriously I almost hooked up with Kellie, it was that bad and there would have been nothing wrong with that. Except I am very straight. Well, this co-worker's fiance is also the GM of Chuy's---ha ha ha ha ha---oh I may need to retell the Chuy's story for a refresher, someday, not now. The co-worker is solo. I ask him where his better half is; he replied with he didn't know where Incredible was--huh? NO--I meant that woman that whores it out for Chuy's that you are marrying in 2 months; not my dead beat "Fuck him" boyfriend. I'd like to thank Miller Lite for all the crap that came out of my mouth. He must've felt bad for me because he escorted me out the block party and made sure that I had some water and another hot dog. We sat on the curb and I mouthed off all my theories on while men are pigs and how some could eat shit and die...or something like that.
I made it home, safely and at 8PM was hungover. I woke up the next day with 10 voicemails from Incredible. Turns out my phone didn't work in the middle of a parade and I was supposed to meet him at 10 AM on the corner of something and something; so it was a worried mess trying to locate me and to sum it up I have the best boyfriend because then we went cruising on Sunday and today I received an embarrassing email from him. Apparently they gossip too at his job and co-worker spoke to him. As Incredible as he is, he only found the humor in the story. Gotta love him.
Back-peddling
OMG! Damn the work email and the automatic pop up address book. I was gossiping about a co-worker and sent it to the very co-worker I was gossiping about....ARGH! My worst email nightmare has come true.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
HELP!
What to do? What to do? What to do?
HELP!
Cruising
I may need to retract that post about house buying. Incredible tricked me into a Sunday drive around south Dallas which quickly turned into an open houses tour. Yep. We went and looked at open houses in Kessler Park and the nice historic end of Oak Cliff. I have to say 'nice, historic end' because when I say Oak Cliff, pictures of gang banging and crime come up. I would assume this house hunt was just for him, but when he started asking realtors questions like "Is this neighborhood cool for young newly married couples?" and "What cross street is that elementary school on?" I had to do a double take. Then we drove by the so called 'great' elementary school that the 'hood had to offer. I'm not jumping the gun on this, but if anyone would like to convince him that we would need to be married first before I commit to a house, let me know. I have particular specifics when it comes to engagements. VERY specific and I am scared that a ring may pop out from somewhere and I will crush him by saying "Do over"
Friday, March 11
Divorce is an Ugly Word
It's even uglier when it's non-family member you are divorcing. Yep, we're talking about getting rid of toxic friends today. I'm not going to mention names, but a certain someone didn't feel it necessary to answer any of my S.O.S. text messages or voicemails last night. You know who you are; but I'm going to gamble and think that since you don't reply to URGENT messages that you don't read my blog either, so, here we go.
I've only successfully divorced one friend out of my life. It was such a long time ago. The gist is we were great friends in high school, roomies in college for a summer, and then she turned psycho thus leading to her demise as my friend. Some other friends and I have been on trial separations. Oh, you may not have known it at the time, but I think its safe to say that if you had not heard from me in over 3 months, yup, we were on a trial separation. Luckily, we survived but I don't think Brad and Jen will.
Contemplating divorcing a friend is so much harder than witnessing my parents divorce. Sure, that was sad and we had to choose which parent to spend what holiday eating dinner with but with friends it's a whole other ballgame. I choose these people to be part of my life, I didn't have that much say when I got stuck with my parents. We have memories of prank calls, drunken nights, secrets. Oy, the secrets! What becomes of those secrets when we are divorced? Do you go run off and tell them to anyone who will listen? Come to think of it, there should be a trashy Divorce Court version for friends getting rid of friends. I'd call in sick to see that. The Plaintiff would call out their friend for being un-friendly in the relationship and tell all their business, ooh I could see it now. Sharon Osbourne could be the residing judge. She needs something to do and I have not seen anyone tell off someone like Sharon can.
Sometimes divorce is for the better, maybe the friendship has curdled. I got what I needed (even though I cannot think of what that is) and you definitely got what you needed: someone who listens, cares, is there for you any time you needed someone, and a bridesmaid to even out your wedding party. I think it's been unfair long enough. Hopefully we will survive the 'talk' and you will mend your ways so we won't be the pilot episode for Divorce Court: Friends.
I've only successfully divorced one friend out of my life. It was such a long time ago. The gist is we were great friends in high school, roomies in college for a summer, and then she turned psycho thus leading to her demise as my friend. Some other friends and I have been on trial separations. Oh, you may not have known it at the time, but I think its safe to say that if you had not heard from me in over 3 months, yup, we were on a trial separation. Luckily, we survived but I don't think Brad and Jen will.
Contemplating divorcing a friend is so much harder than witnessing my parents divorce. Sure, that was sad and we had to choose which parent to spend what holiday eating dinner with but with friends it's a whole other ballgame. I choose these people to be part of my life, I didn't have that much say when I got stuck with my parents. We have memories of prank calls, drunken nights, secrets. Oy, the secrets! What becomes of those secrets when we are divorced? Do you go run off and tell them to anyone who will listen? Come to think of it, there should be a trashy Divorce Court version for friends getting rid of friends. I'd call in sick to see that. The Plaintiff would call out their friend for being un-friendly in the relationship and tell all their business, ooh I could see it now. Sharon Osbourne could be the residing judge. She needs something to do and I have not seen anyone tell off someone like Sharon can.
Sometimes divorce is for the better, maybe the friendship has curdled. I got what I needed (even though I cannot think of what that is) and you definitely got what you needed: someone who listens, cares, is there for you any time you needed someone, and a bridesmaid to even out your wedding party. I think it's been unfair long enough. Hopefully we will survive the 'talk' and you will mend your ways so we won't be the pilot episode for Divorce Court: Friends.
Thank You
OU won, 83 to 79. I don't know who I am thanking for that, but now because of them my weekend will be a lot better.
Now, I just need to hide that damn Pac-Man joystick.
Now, I just need to hide that damn Pac-Man joystick.
Thursday, March 10
I Don't Want to Grow Up
I feel as if I have to address this issue: House buying at the age of twenty-something. If you want a house; you go ahead and buy one. I'm happy for you, really, I am. Please, I beg of you please don't bring your propaganda over here telling me of tales of equity, ownership, and all the money you are saving. It's not going to get me out of my apartment any sooner, I guarantee you that. Funny how all my friends that have left apartment living for a more permanent situation are trying to get the rest of us to convert. They say you no longer have to dump money into the empty investment of apartment dwelling. They say that once they decide to sell they have all this equity. They say its so relieving to have a place that they can call their own to come home to at night.
Uhm---is this mic, on? I am about to preach it.
Call me old fashioned, really, and this is specifically for all the single female friends I have buying homes, but I don't agree with owning a 3 bedroom house when you are single. There, I said it. Bring on your feminists comments but I guarantee you if that one hurt, I got some more. I just feel that nothing distracts a single male, our age (note, I said "our age") like a woman with a house. One, if he is our age, he is most likely renting and may see an imbalance of power and financial security. Two, you most likely live in a neighborhood with families aka suburbia---'nuff said. I'm kind of 1950 like that. I don't want a house, this young and single---no ma'am.
How is renting a waste of money? Explain this to me like a 5 year old because I just don't get it. I have a roof over my head; how is that a waste?
Equity, schmiquity. I'm sorry I know this investment will have a great turn over for you in the future but you know what I got...clothes. Uhm hmm. I'd rather be wearing my $96 skirt than save up for a mortgage. Why? I live in the now. Now, I don't have a husband, a child, or a house so I can splurge like that on me.
What I am really trying to say is just because you have now left communal living for suburbia; please don't give me tales of how much better it is. If my sink is broken, I call a number and someone fixes it within the day. I don't have to worry about getting quotes from plumbers and taking the day off just to do so. If it's broke; the apartment peeps worry about it and its no cost to me because it's included in my 'wasted' rent money.
Please don't turn your nose down at me because I love it in apartments. Don't worry I won't spend the rest of my life here, just my single fabulous twenties and maybe thirties.
Uhm---is this mic, on? I am about to preach it.
Call me old fashioned, really, and this is specifically for all the single female friends I have buying homes, but I don't agree with owning a 3 bedroom house when you are single. There, I said it. Bring on your feminists comments but I guarantee you if that one hurt, I got some more. I just feel that nothing distracts a single male, our age (note, I said "our age") like a woman with a house. One, if he is our age, he is most likely renting and may see an imbalance of power and financial security. Two, you most likely live in a neighborhood with families aka suburbia---'nuff said. I'm kind of 1950 like that. I don't want a house, this young and single---no ma'am.
How is renting a waste of money? Explain this to me like a 5 year old because I just don't get it. I have a roof over my head; how is that a waste?
Equity, schmiquity. I'm sorry I know this investment will have a great turn over for you in the future but you know what I got...clothes. Uhm hmm. I'd rather be wearing my $96 skirt than save up for a mortgage. Why? I live in the now. Now, I don't have a husband, a child, or a house so I can splurge like that on me.
What I am really trying to say is just because you have now left communal living for suburbia; please don't give me tales of how much better it is. If my sink is broken, I call a number and someone fixes it within the day. I don't have to worry about getting quotes from plumbers and taking the day off just to do so. If it's broke; the apartment peeps worry about it and its no cost to me because it's included in my 'wasted' rent money.
Please don't turn your nose down at me because I love it in apartments. Don't worry I won't spend the rest of my life here, just my single fabulous twenties and maybe thirties.
America's Next Top Model Presents: "Bitchy v. Fatty". Who Do You Think Won?
OK, Tyra, we need to talk. You cannot fool us and tell us that Brita was kicked off because her photograph was not happening. Just tell us the truth you kicked her off because she weighs 138 lbs.
How is it that the two worst attitudes that "pissed you off" during the makeover made it through last night's elimination? Huh?!?! Afro-Puff Brandy told my boyfriend Nigel (Remind me that we so need to talk about how FINE he is) that she was too tired and that he took too long--No, she didn't, who the hell did she think she was, Naomi Campbell? I love the makeover episodes because you get to see what hair dye can really do to a person. In this case Michelle/Michael endured the pain of becoming a bleach blonde. Brandy gave us more attitude when they announced they wanted to do nothing to her because she was already "FIERCE" and then more when they gave in and cut her Afro-Puff. Then Tyra announces that two people have pissed her off and it will be considered during the elimination buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut just kidding because she cut out Brita. WTF? Purified-Brita was the cutest. So what, her FIRST photo was not so great--that's why it's the first photo shoot! She was the only girl there that is not shaped like a Q-tip and weighs more than a 5th grader. Come on! Don't fool me with your 'blah, blah, judges don't want to see here, blah blah, your photo sucks', Tyra, just tell us the truth: y'all thought she was fat and that you'd take a skinny wannabe Naomi with too much attitude over Brita.
How is it that the two worst attitudes that "pissed you off" during the makeover made it through last night's elimination? Huh?!?! Afro-Puff Brandy told my boyfriend Nigel (Remind me that we so need to talk about how FINE he is) that she was too tired and that he took too long--No, she didn't, who the hell did she think she was, Naomi Campbell? I love the makeover episodes because you get to see what hair dye can really do to a person. In this case Michelle/Michael endured the pain of becoming a bleach blonde. Brandy gave us more attitude when they announced they wanted to do nothing to her because she was already "FIERCE" and then more when they gave in and cut her Afro-Puff. Then Tyra announces that two people have pissed her off and it will be considered during the elimination buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut just kidding because she cut out Brita. WTF? Purified-Brita was the cutest. So what, her FIRST photo was not so great--that's why it's the first photo shoot! She was the only girl there that is not shaped like a Q-tip and weighs more than a 5th grader. Come on! Don't fool me with your 'blah, blah, judges don't want to see here, blah blah, your photo sucks', Tyra, just tell us the truth: y'all thought she was fat and that you'd take a skinny wannabe Naomi with too much attitude over Brita.
Wednesday, March 9
Fore!
After Target I met up with I Incredible at the golfing range. You can close your mouth because I didn't hit any balls; balls hit on me.
Note to all my single girl peeps: run to the golfing range right now. The woman to man ratio is so in your favor. A woman at the range is like honey to a bee.
I had to walk by all the hitters last night to get to Incredible because (Thank you) he was at the last hitting post. Black, Asian, White, Young, Middle Age, Old, Frat boy, Business man, and Wannabe Pro golfer were all there in attendance. If I am ever single, again, I am investing in some clubs and hitting up on the range. Amen! All I did was sit at a bench a few posts away from Incredible. The benches close to him were occupied (I swear). I was sitting for half a second before Mr. Oh-So-Cute in Khaki Cargos sat down. He asked me if I was waiting on his post. No. He asked if I was there with someone. Eh, yeah, the guy down there with the OU golf bag. He smirked. I raised my brow. Then he asked if I played. No. He told me I should learn. Amen, I should. Then he got back to hitting his balls. After about 5 minutes checking out his butt (he was in cargo shorts, need I say more?) I went down to where my man was hitting. He was hitting next to a Business man with a UT golf bag. Oh, the humor! Business man asked me if I was cold. I was freezing, but I did look cute in those Editor pants. He offered his windbreaker. Uhm hmm...two hits in the span of 10 minutes...where am I? Do other girls know this place exists? I told him I was okay---wait, I lie...Incredible walked over and handed me a kiss. For the rest of the night Business man and I traded OU jokes while Incredible hit the balls and we had great laughs...all three of us.
If you are single, it is Spring and there are men out there...you don't even need clubs, just show up.
Note to all my single girl peeps: run to the golfing range right now. The woman to man ratio is so in your favor. A woman at the range is like honey to a bee.
I had to walk by all the hitters last night to get to Incredible because (Thank you) he was at the last hitting post. Black, Asian, White, Young, Middle Age, Old, Frat boy, Business man, and Wannabe Pro golfer were all there in attendance. If I am ever single, again, I am investing in some clubs and hitting up on the range. Amen! All I did was sit at a bench a few posts away from Incredible. The benches close to him were occupied (I swear). I was sitting for half a second before Mr. Oh-So-Cute in Khaki Cargos sat down. He asked me if I was waiting on his post. No. He asked if I was there with someone. Eh, yeah, the guy down there with the OU golf bag. He smirked. I raised my brow. Then he asked if I played. No. He told me I should learn. Amen, I should. Then he got back to hitting his balls. After about 5 minutes checking out his butt (he was in cargo shorts, need I say more?) I went down to where my man was hitting. He was hitting next to a Business man with a UT golf bag. Oh, the humor! Business man asked me if I was cold. I was freezing, but I did look cute in those Editor pants. He offered his windbreaker. Uhm hmm...two hits in the span of 10 minutes...where am I? Do other girls know this place exists? I told him I was okay---wait, I lie...Incredible walked over and handed me a kiss. For the rest of the night Business man and I traded OU jokes while Incredible hit the balls and we had great laughs...all three of us.
If you are single, it is Spring and there are men out there...you don't even need clubs, just show up.
Flat Footed
Hooray for Spring and the fashions that are blooming. I gave in and bought a pair of ballet flats. I swore I wouldn't. I love heels and people had no clue how short I really am. The secret has been revealed, thanks to my new ballet shoes. Pink ones. They are on sale at Target for $9.99. I was at Target last night for the sole reason to buy batteries. I left with a black tee shirt, Cadbury eggs, lipgloss, and pink ballet flats; no batteries. I'm wearing the flats today and my feet are thanking me. After years of being taller in heels, my toes are happy to be in a comfy shoe flat on the ground.
Tuesday, March 8
Two and Half Weeks Notice
I am doing so well with Lent this year. No fast food in sight. Well, there was that one time that we went to Taco Cabana at 2 AM---but, I don't think that counts. SK does and we got into a cute little debate whether it did or not. Like a true Catholic, I get to define what counts as fast food and what doesn't. Works out well, don't you think? You know you want to convert, come on in; the holy water is warm. Fast food is anything McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, Sonic, KFC, Taco Bell, Taco Bueno--anywhere where it's ordered and the food comes out to you quickly. Taco Cabana does not count. It takes awhile and my number one reason it doesn't count: They serve alcohol*. If there are margaritas; it cannot be a fast food joint, can it?
*How wonderful would McD's be, if we could order martinis with those Big Macs?
*How wonderful would McD's be, if we could order martinis with those Big Macs?
I Only Have Myself to Blame
For Valentine's Day I fore went the common romantic gift and gave Incredible this.
Clearly, I was out of my mind. He did proclaim it is the best gift ever and it took him a week to open it. I know now that that week was my last week of Heaven. We are so alike, it is unreal. I still have not opened the DVD final season of Sex and the City that he gave me for Christmas. There are alternate endings still sitting neatly wrapped up in store cellophane. Incredible started playing with his VD gift Oscar Sunday and has not stopped. This would not be a problem if he would take it home and play there. Noooo. Why would he do that when he can play at my place (where he apparently lives). ALL THE TIME. Each night during the commercial breaks of my favorite shows, I get to witness the 10 year old Incredible while he masters the joystick. Last Saturday night at 3 AM, when I was in loving tears because our bar tabs were twins; he pushed me in the car and said, "Okay, we got to get home. I was up to 5500 points on Bosconian yesterday." Supposedly at 7000 points you get some extra long laser something or the other. At 3:15 AM I tried to sleep, but the sounds of attacking aliens are not the same unless they are on surround sound. Then at 7 AM when the alarm went off; I mistakenly thought it was for his 9 AM tee time. No, it was Pac-Man time. Thank goodness it wasn't sex time. I love the fact that my gift makes him act like a giddy boy in the year 1980; but I hate the fact that I sit at work humming the theme song to Rally X.
Clearly, I was out of my mind. He did proclaim it is the best gift ever and it took him a week to open it. I know now that that week was my last week of Heaven. We are so alike, it is unreal. I still have not opened the DVD final season of Sex and the City that he gave me for Christmas. There are alternate endings still sitting neatly wrapped up in store cellophane. Incredible started playing with his VD gift Oscar Sunday and has not stopped. This would not be a problem if he would take it home and play there. Noooo. Why would he do that when he can play at my place (where he apparently lives). ALL THE TIME. Each night during the commercial breaks of my favorite shows, I get to witness the 10 year old Incredible while he masters the joystick. Last Saturday night at 3 AM, when I was in loving tears because our bar tabs were twins; he pushed me in the car and said, "Okay, we got to get home. I was up to 5500 points on Bosconian yesterday." Supposedly at 7000 points you get some extra long laser something or the other. At 3:15 AM I tried to sleep, but the sounds of attacking aliens are not the same unless they are on surround sound. Then at 7 AM when the alarm went off; I mistakenly thought it was for his 9 AM tee time. No, it was Pac-Man time. Thank goodness it wasn't sex time. I love the fact that my gift makes him act like a giddy boy in the year 1980; but I hate the fact that I sit at work humming the theme song to Rally X.
$43.50
You know it may be meant to be when you and your boyfriend are in two completely different areas of the bar doing your own thing but had separate tabs that looked like this:
1 order Chicken Tenders w/ Honey Mustard sauce
-extra BBQ sauce
4 orders Bloody Mary
1 order Miller Lite
1 order cheesecake
I came thisclose to proposing marriage when we hooked back up at the end of the night and saw that his tab was my tab.
1 order Chicken Tenders w/ Honey Mustard sauce
-extra BBQ sauce
4 orders Bloody Mary
1 order Miller Lite
1 order cheesecake
I came thisclose to proposing marriage when we hooked back up at the end of the night and saw that his tab was my tab.
O Who?
My coworker invited my boyfriend to watch the OU/Tech game at a Tech alumni bar. Incredible was hesitant. One; it was a Tech bar and two; it also was a blind date for my co-worker. You know I had to go witness this. The kind of girl that I have seen my co-worker date are quiet, conservative, laid back women and each of the three that I have met graduated from A&M. I joke with him that he has a problem. The girl he was with Saturday night was complete opposite. Oh, how to describe her? Pamela Anderson's drunk younger sister; who also graduated from OU. No joking. Her breasts were huge (I'm talking watermelon huge), her halter top was small (Baby GAP small), her voice was stadium level loud, and she was wearing her special red Oklahoma heels which she proudly displayed on Incredible's lap. Yes. I let it go because as scary for a blind date as she was; she was pure entertainment for us. Incredible loved her and kept egging her on. She was a firecracker, this one. Out of control. I learned a couple of things I needed to know on the how to not impress a blind date:
1. Don't bet your date that you can kiss him without touching his lips and then have everyone at the bar witness it.
2. You cannot call your own heels: Come Fuck Me Heels.
I don't know what could be more embarrassing than my co-worker's walk of shame Monday morning, knowing that I know what and who he did this weekend.
1. Don't bet your date that you can kiss him without touching his lips and then have everyone at the bar witness it.
2. You cannot call your own heels: Come Fuck Me Heels.
I don't know what could be more embarrassing than my co-worker's walk of shame Monday morning, knowing that I know what and who he did this weekend.
Do These Pants Make Me Look Like an Editor?
This weekend's shopping trip was good and it was bad. I did not find a long, white skirt but while in BCBG talking about the skirt, a sales person overheard and told me that he saw one on JLo and it was 'da bomb. No shit, because that is the exact skirt that I am looking for and need. Would you believe my luck that he directed to the very same website that is selling it for $96. UGH. Problem is; the only article of clothing in my closet that costs more than $96 is last year's bridesmaid dress that I wore to AP's wedding. What to do? What to do? I may just have to suck it up and buy it, then wear it everyday for the rest of the year.
I kept on shopping and finally found a pair of jeans that fit in a size 4 (ha ha, take that, GAP) from Express...well, they are the denim Editor pants but that counts. Does anyone know why they are called Editor pants? Is Express the fashion mecca for journalist? Do editors only wear pants? I must get to the bottom of this and I must say that I do feel a tad bit more journalistic today.
I kept on shopping and finally found a pair of jeans that fit in a size 4 (ha ha, take that, GAP) from Express...well, they are the denim Editor pants but that counts. Does anyone know why they are called Editor pants? Is Express the fashion mecca for journalist? Do editors only wear pants? I must get to the bottom of this and I must say that I do feel a tad bit more journalistic today.
Friday, March 4
It takes a Whole Lot to Shock Me, so I Thought
We went to the Tulsa University vs. SMU basketball game last night. It was a lot of fun until Tulsa lost in overtime.
The real entertainment was supplied during the half time show. It was a dance group of various aged girls. They each danced in different age groups to different songs.
The first group was the youngest of the girls, I'd say that they looked like 3rd grade or lesser. They dressed like they were in on the high school drill team. They danced to the artist formerly known as Marky Mark and his "Good Vibrations". They danced like Vegas style showgirls. Not the kind at a show; but the kind in that Elizabeth Berkley movie. My mouth was open the entire time.
The real entertainment was supplied during the half time show. It was a dance group of various aged girls. They each danced in different age groups to different songs.
The first group was the youngest of the girls, I'd say that they looked like 3rd grade or lesser. They dressed like they were in on the high school drill team. They danced to the artist formerly known as Marky Mark and his "Good Vibrations". They danced like Vegas style showgirls. Not the kind at a show; but the kind in that Elizabeth Berkley movie. My mouth was open the entire time.
TGIF and Then Some
Holy F--has this been the longest week, ever or what? Maybe it's just me and all my stress. I was on such an overload that I just busted out in tears yesterday afternoon. Seemed too much was definitely too much. With all our managers out at conference this week, my co-worker seems to be taking a vacation at his desk leaving me most of the work load, I can not find a pair of jeans to fit me well, the IRS, my friend who invited everyone in her address book to her ski trip (in front of me) and didn't bother to ask me (guess I am not in the book), no electricity, no answers back on the NYC job questions, bridal shower planning, and then to top it all off I made myself feel like the un-popular kid eating alone in the cafeteria staring at the cool kids having fun which lead to the crying.
Here's hoping I find that damn skirt because it'll be the best thing this week's got.
Here's hoping I find that damn skirt because it'll be the best thing this week's got.
Shopping is a Science
Tomorrow I plan on spending the entire day shopping, rain or shine. I even made a map/diagram on an Excel spreadsheet for the occasion (even after its gone that damn bracket still rules my life). Besides looking for a pair of jeans that fit my JLo butt; I am now looking for the long white flowy skirt she wore on her MTV Runway special. I think I found it online for $96; but will attempt the "Look for Less" route and hunt for a more budget reasonable version. Then the other day I found this week's paycheck was filled with the sick days I didn't use last year goodiness and decided since it is money I wasn't expecting, might as well take it for a Spring clothing shopping spree. I should save it for a rainy day or pay the IRS; but what sense would that make when we can get clothes! Whoo hoo. I'm excited. I wish I could invite some friend along for the adventure but the two I got in Dallas are not so great when it comes to all day shopping trips. They have no store stamina. I'm lucky if they make it store number two on the map. I will admit that I do enjoy shopping alone at times; no one to hurry you out of a dressing room; no one turning their nose up at you when you are deciding on the long white skirt; and no one to question you on the rationality of buying $200 shoes. Solitary at a bliss, for sure, but then there is the down side: you are alone in a mall or store full of groups in the crowds, that look at you with that look of "No friends?".
Hmmm, maybe I should start accepting applications for a shopping stallion; someone who can endure the entire day. Anyone?
Hmmm, maybe I should start accepting applications for a shopping stallion; someone who can endure the entire day. Anyone?
Thursday, March 3
Funny thing...
I went shopping instead of eating lunch today. Can you believe, me? skip lunch? Well, you see I have been stressing like mad crazy, last week's bracket got nothing on this week's stress. I've been stressing causing me to be craving a whopper like mad. I need the Burger King mayo--which I swear has crack in it. I like the whopper for the mayo, the peeps at Burger King can just slather some of that crap on a toasted bun and I'm happy. The meat is just a side note for me. But, dumb me gave up fast food for Lent. What was I thinking? You'd think that this sacrifice would cause me to lose weight...huh!
I needed a new pair of jeans and wanted to make this adventure as painless as possible; so I headed to the well known GAP. I was so happy when I got there because they are running a special: Half off any shirt when you buy a pair of bottoms (skirt, pants, jeans) . Also, they just got in the cap sleeve blouse that I have been ogling on the Sarah Jessica Parker ad insert in every Spring issue magazine that gets delivered to my door. Happy day!
I know my sizes well and grabbed a size 4 long and a size 6 regular of the Long and Lean. Neither one fit. I refuse size 8. Not because of any issues on my end, but because I know that I am a size 4 or a 6 and the GAP God is messing with my head. Next, I try on the Bootleg cut. Size 6 didn't make it past my Beyonce size thighs. It is evident that I have to suck it up and grab the 8's.
You know there is a problem and it is not you when the size 8 does not work, in either cut of jeans. You also know its a bigger problem when you try on the cropped jeans with the cute back pocket details and the only size that will make it to your hips is a 12.
12!?!?!
Oh, heck, not!
This is not to sound rude, but if I am a size 4/6 what the heck am I doing in a size 12 jean? To make matters worse the sales associate told me that I must be wrong and that I need to check the size tag on my jeans that are at home because I swore up and down that they were a 4 and I bought them just a month ago. After I told him this for the 3rd time; he looked at me and said; "well, maybe you have gained some weight"
WHAT?!?!
ok, I'll simmer down because maybe that is true, so I backed off his grill and shamefully walked out the GAP. On the ride down the escalator, I thought about it. I'm not eating fast food and yet, I'm gaining weight, hmmm I haven't changed any other eating habits and all my other clothes are still fitting me fine, so...let's go into Banana Republic and see. There is one located right below the GAP, it's all very convenient because the Old Navy is on top of the GAP.
I walk in and grab the cutest pants ever; size 8. Potato sack. Size 6, I could pull these on without unzipping them and at this point I am cursing GAP, Inc. Size 4--ooohkay. Ricardo, my new best friend in the fitting room looked me up and down and says: "Honey, you got a great ass, why hide it in pants too big for you. Let me get you the 2"
TWO?
Yes, two, dos, deux and they fit like a charm.
You know it is a huge problem when the same company is messing with your sizes and your mind.
I needed a new pair of jeans and wanted to make this adventure as painless as possible; so I headed to the well known GAP. I was so happy when I got there because they are running a special: Half off any shirt when you buy a pair of bottoms (skirt, pants, jeans) . Also, they just got in the cap sleeve blouse that I have been ogling on the Sarah Jessica Parker ad insert in every Spring issue magazine that gets delivered to my door. Happy day!
I know my sizes well and grabbed a size 4 long and a size 6 regular of the Long and Lean. Neither one fit. I refuse size 8. Not because of any issues on my end, but because I know that I am a size 4 or a 6 and the GAP God is messing with my head. Next, I try on the Bootleg cut. Size 6 didn't make it past my Beyonce size thighs. It is evident that I have to suck it up and grab the 8's.
You know there is a problem and it is not you when the size 8 does not work, in either cut of jeans. You also know its a bigger problem when you try on the cropped jeans with the cute back pocket details and the only size that will make it to your hips is a 12.
12!?!?!
Oh, heck, not!
This is not to sound rude, but if I am a size 4/6 what the heck am I doing in a size 12 jean? To make matters worse the sales associate told me that I must be wrong and that I need to check the size tag on my jeans that are at home because I swore up and down that they were a 4 and I bought them just a month ago. After I told him this for the 3rd time; he looked at me and said; "well, maybe you have gained some weight"
WHAT?!?!
ok, I'll simmer down because maybe that is true, so I backed off his grill and shamefully walked out the GAP. On the ride down the escalator, I thought about it. I'm not eating fast food and yet, I'm gaining weight, hmmm I haven't changed any other eating habits and all my other clothes are still fitting me fine, so...let's go into Banana Republic and see. There is one located right below the GAP, it's all very convenient because the Old Navy is on top of the GAP.
I walk in and grab the cutest pants ever; size 8. Potato sack. Size 6, I could pull these on without unzipping them and at this point I am cursing GAP, Inc. Size 4--ooohkay. Ricardo, my new best friend in the fitting room looked me up and down and says: "Honey, you got a great ass, why hide it in pants too big for you. Let me get you the 2"
TWO?
Yes, two, dos, deux and they fit like a charm.
You know it is a huge problem when the same company is messing with your sizes and your mind.
Tuesday, March 1
Noo Yawk, Noo Yawk
I got the fever (especially after that freaking bracket from Hell). Incredible just came back from there so he's got the fever. Together we have the flu and it's hot.
I don't want to say too much and jinx my own luck, but if some answers to some questions come back to my favor and liking, watch out, Big Apple! It has been 25 years too long.
"Brooklyn in da house"*
*you may or may not know, but I was born in yeah you guessed it: Brooklyn
I don't want to say too much and jinx my own luck, but if some answers to some questions come back to my favor and liking, watch out, Big Apple! It has been 25 years too long.
"Brooklyn in da house"*
*you may or may not know, but I was born in yeah you guessed it: Brooklyn
I survived 1802
Last night there was no electricity in my neighborhood from the hours of 6:30 and 11:00 PM. I'll do the math, that means I missed "24" and Jen rejecting Jerry on live TV. Uhm hmm, instead I became paranoid and a teeny bit smarter.
The first thing that went to my head was sheer paranoia that I didn't pay the electric bill. There I was sitting, reading over the mail, Extra was recapping Beyonce's Concert and ZAP! It was 1802 with no electricity. Did I pay that bill? It's amazing how quickly you can find your financial memory in a time like this, but when it was time to find a budget; I had no memory of where all the money went.
I did pay my bill and it did turn out after looking out the window, that the whole neighborhood was pitch black.
It is a bitch to find your lighter and light candles in the dark.
I don't know how people wrote great classic novels, back in the day when there was no electricity, by candlelight. Props to them. I couldn't read this month's InStyle, for the 10th time, by light of three candles. The lighter was brighter. (Rhyming!) Turned out the only pieces of paper readable by candles, were the Trivial Pursuit question cards.
I learned lots, so I guess that's what they did in 1802.
The first thing that went to my head was sheer paranoia that I didn't pay the electric bill. There I was sitting, reading over the mail, Extra was recapping Beyonce's Concert and ZAP! It was 1802 with no electricity. Did I pay that bill? It's amazing how quickly you can find your financial memory in a time like this, but when it was time to find a budget; I had no memory of where all the money went.
I did pay my bill and it did turn out after looking out the window, that the whole neighborhood was pitch black.
It is a bitch to find your lighter and light candles in the dark.
I don't know how people wrote great classic novels, back in the day when there was no electricity, by candlelight. Props to them. I couldn't read this month's InStyle, for the 10th time, by light of three candles. The lighter was brighter. (Rhyming!) Turned out the only pieces of paper readable by candles, were the Trivial Pursuit question cards.
I learned lots, so I guess that's what they did in 1802.
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