Allover the Map, Part Two

I rarely regret any decision I've made. The only ones I can think of are work related. I have regretted not taking the position with the event planner because my job now, is just not really up my alley. When I was let go from the law firm, I regretted taking it so personally.

I didn't think visiting New York would affect me and that decision made months ago. And last Tuesday, if I could turn back time, I would. I never think of what could have been if I did move to NYC. Why would I? It's far away and that time has since been tucked away in the corner of my mind.

Driving into town from LaGuardia was a real bitch.

That's the problem with that decision that was made: We weren't allowed to come up and visit the city, see the offices for a "test drive" before making the decision. Plus, they wanted answers in a couple of days. That was really my problem - it takes me a lot longer than that to make up my mind. But I did and then the opportunity was taken away from me because I wasn't 100% sure. Who really is?

But when you get to see what you are missing and its exactly how you dreamt it to be. Well, I had a breakdown. I'm not going to sugar coat it or make myself look cool.

I was in the cab and as soon as we entered Manhattan, boom, tears. I had to pull down my sunglasses really quickly. It just hit me, hard. The bustle, the people, the street vendors. All of it.

I haven't been in over 10 years. 10 years! Everything was pretty much new to me and I was like a first time visitor to a place that practically every young PR/Marketing/Advertising hopeful dreamt of starting out. In college, I sent out over 100's of resumes to the top agencies in New York. Resumes were also sent to the top business companies. Apartments were drooled over. Budgets were made. I was going to make it there, after all.

Then, I started dating people seriously and somehow NYC was not part of their dreams, so it fell to the wayside. At the moment, I so thought those relationships were lasting ever after.

Then, I moved to my affordable New York, Dallas. This was my big city dream coming true. Its why I chose to live downtown and why I choose to run in the city, walk around uptown and turn a nose to suburbia. I'm a city girl.

And then there is this past year and its irony. Big, fat chance to move to New York and fulfill that young girl in me's dream. Except we're not young anymore and a truer love is at my side. Yes, there was an uncertainty of making it in New York.
And that, got me in trouble.

Last Tuesday, I cried it out. I mourned the young girl's dream, rightfully so. It took me a couple of hours to buck up, leave my hotel room and enjoy the city. I took a stroll and enjoyed the best $27 crab cake salad & fries ever. I even treated myself and had a coke. I don't drink soda pop. But that young girl did.

Next: The NBA Draft took place in my hotel!!

Allover the Map, Part One

That's me and my badass Paris Casino Eiffel Tower of Daiquiri. It was the bomb!

There is no way I could jam pack the past two weeks of jet setting into one post. I'm just going to break it down, part by part. First up: Vegas!

For someone who doesn’t do math I sure can add up all my upcoming bills, subtract debits and balance my checkbook in as short amount of time that it takes for the roulette ball to land on a number. Vegas brings out the mathematician in me. I only play roulette – it requires no real thought or strategy. It’s easy, simple and fun.

Some would say that I do have a strategy that I pick my family and Cowboy’s birthday dates for my numbers. When it comes to betting outside the numbers, it’s random as can be for me. The birth dates usually do me good; but it’s the winning that gets me to the poorhouse. I can be up $200 and then down $200. I always try to get out of the game when my winnings are down to what I started with in the game. Great strategy, no?

The problem is once you win, its in your blood and ATM machines are readily accessible (ooh, next time I should try my pin code numbers) – can we talk about that for a second?

I think banks should install some kind of big brother watchdog system on your bank accounts. When it detects unusual activity or a destination ATM withdrawal, such as Vegas, I think it should double check and ask you: Are you really sure? Let me tell you, if I had someone there to ask me that question, the answer would have been no, all the time. I’m not sure. Especially when I’m jetting off to NYC afterwards. I wish I put some shopping logic into the gambling equation because my New York hotel borders the fashion district and my view was of the DKNY studio – no bueno.

I admire those that can go to Vegas and leave with their bank accounts intact. They are usually the beginners. They are usually the ones who win four times what they put in. They know when to stop. Me? Not so much. It sure was hella fun in the meantime.

We discovered the Bellagio Buffet and why it’s not really a good idea to host your wedding reception dinner in a buffet dining room of a casino in Vegas. We discovered the new Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino – where there was some mad karaoke. Locals came out for their shining star moment, American Idol style.

My mom was also there for her birthday weekend, so we were able to meet up with her for awhile and she let us have her hotel key so we could lounge at her hotel pool. We worked the strip, rode the monorail, saw the world’s largest chocolate fountain and ate a cute Italian restaurant, Battista’s. The one thing we didn’t do was see Bette. Her show premiered the day we left. Boo hoo boo.

I had the best girl weekend in Vegas. Seriously, two of the funniest girls I know were with me and it was so fun. Even when we were recharging in the hotel room, I had a blast, well minus the minor stomach pains I was experiencing.

The only disappoint I had was the shuttle back to the airport the day I left. The shuttle service made the time of pick up three hours before my flight departed. It's not that long of a drive to the airport and what a bore of an airport it is. Yes, there are slot machines and that's it. It's the drabbest airport I know and yet the most expensive: $7 for a Burger King meal. Uh-huh! I started craving it really bad once I started smelling those burgers, but my will won out, as I'm not eating any fast food while Cowboy is away.

Next up: My breakdown in NYC.

Say Hello to My Shoe*

So I thought I could dance. I'll have to preface there was not a drop of alcohol in me. With that said...did you watch this week's So You Think You Can Dance? If no, uhm hmm, I don't know what to tell you. If you did - you saw the Argentina Tango. So did I, unfortunately. I watched in such awe and jealousy. When the routine was over, I was convinced I could do the same. I hit rewind and watched real slow. Do I sound like a nerd, yet? It gets better. The kicks and flounces were amazing, I'm sure I could do it. Heck, I took a semester of ballet. Seven years ago. But, I dance all the time. In my apartment. And I have never attempted a tango - much more an Argentina Tango. Here, we go. One, you need a partner to tango. The phrase, two to tango, didn't come out of thin air.

Normally this partner would be a person, preferably a man, I used my barstool. Wait. I wasn't doing the tango across my living room while dragging my barstool around. The barstool was a reference for my foot movements and kicks. The back of my barstool, which faced me, is at the least 5 feet high - maybe more, I'm sure it's more, now. I'm doing foot movements that are kick ass, I'm flaunting it and delicately flounces my way around the barstool. At this point, I am so awesome. I'm not lying - Nigel would love me. Then I think, I can do a kick above my partner's head. A beautiful swoop of the leg...first the right and it was awesome, graceful and flouncy - just as a tango kick should be. I was pretty amazed I could kick this and swoop my leg this high, so of course we had to do it again, with the left leg.

There is nothing graceful about the left side of my body. I'm right handed - we do better with the right. The left, not so much. I did hesitate and thought for a second before I high kicked my left leg over the barstool - honestly I did. The answer was, I'm awesome, I can do this. With all my force, left leg muscle, grace (ugh) and energy, I swooped with my leg over the stool. With all that force, muscle, grace and energy - my leg came down too soon, way too soon on top of the barstool. MotherF*cker! How I thought I could raise my left leg over five feet and across a couple of feet is beyond me, well I blame the right leg for showing off. There should be a disclaimer on the show: do not try at home with a wooden barstool or above bruising may occur.

And things have settled back again with Cowboy. After the longest g-chat conversation ever, he admitted that it was wrong for him to bring up the ex-marriage and that it had nothing to do with our futures or our wants. Word. The guy is awesome, I heart him but sheesh I never want to go through that again, ever. I hate sending out unedited emails to people. Really, I do. We both were honest and said what we had to say. That’s the thing with us, I never really have to guess at what he is really trying to tell me because he just says it - no hidden agenda or secret messages. We just need to work on his timing and tact.



The dinner the other night for all my hard working out skills I've been doing lately, minus the one to tango move, was this cupcake. Isn't she pretty? And she was so yum, too. My Central Market sells cupcakes on the cheap and they are the best tasting I've ever had. And that book is going to entertain me on the flight to Las Vegas tomorrow. Viva Las Vegas! I'm so excited, I can barely sit here at work. 3 days of gambling, eating, clubbing and shopping with two of the funniest girls I know. When I come back from that, did I tell y'all I'm going to NYC? YES, that New York City. I cannot effing wait. A week after that is my friend's bachelorette weekend up at Lake Tahoe.




*I heart these shoes.


CD Project: None, I car-pooled to work today. Nothing is wrong with my car except it takes the equivalent of a new blouse to fill it up. My friend suggested car pooling and I said, why not? I'm green at home, may as well be green in the HOV lane. We took her car, so I didn' think she'd be down with listening to old as heck jams on the way to work.

Cry Me, Cry Me, Cry Me a River.

Yesterday I was stressed out. Every time I had a free moment, my mind went wild. Who did he think he was? Yes, it was unfair for him to judge our future on his past. And what I left out was in his dumb excuse of a reply, he said and I quote: I don’t want to be a place holder at a wedding. What the?

I don’t know what that means. You know what – all that is okay. I could be the one who can say, its only been a year what’s the rush. I tend to come from the camp of, when you know it’s right, you know.

I also come from Cowboy’s long conversations of naming our future children; long detailed speeches about details of a wedding and a debate on whether or not we should baptize children. Oh and let’s not forget – the financial saving plan he spoke of months ago. See, that’s just it. He talks the talk. He limps the walk.

But when it came to me going to him and saying what I wanted: I got the big fat, sorry ass excuse of ‘I’ve been married blah de blah’. Can you tell I’m so over that excuse? That excuse is down there with the “I’m tired” excuse. Can I tell you how much I despise hearing, “I’m tired”. Seriously, take a nap. I don’t want to hear it.

So, he’s been married. He was married for less than a year. I’ve had crappy boyfriends in dumb relationships longer than that. Shoot, I think I’ve had hook up relationships longer than that – oops, yes, I have. Married for less than a year? Come again, boyfriend because I’m not buying that.

I didn’t ask him to marry me and I didn’t ask to have his child. What I said was, “Now, that I’m nearing 31, I think I want to closely and seriously consider what kind of timeline for having a child/family”.

That was it. His response – yeah, you guessed it, ‘‘I’ve been married blah de blah and it was horrible”. I almost don’t care.

Now, I almost understand why women break up with their men while they are over there serving because let me tell you. I can count the hours and know the time over there and when I sent him not one, but three replies back to his dumb as shit excuse email, I waited for the reply from him. And nothing. Yes, I know what times he checks email. Maybe its just me but if I saw those emails coming my way, you better believe I’d reply back pronto.

Instead this is what he did – he started calling me at 4:00am this morning. I didn’t pick up because I didn’t want to have this discussion over the phone while half asleep in only the 20 minutes he’s allowed. I’m sorry if that sounds mean, but its true. He kept calling and calling and calling. I’m sorry I wasn't in a position where I could have just picked up the phone and called him; I had to use email to get my feelings across, yes, it sucks and tone is not really delivered but that’s how it was done. So, get to typing Cowboy.

CD Project: Jennifer Lopez’s The Reel Me. It’s super duper two in one. One disc is a dvd of all her videos and a behind the scenes interview for each video. It is pure awesomeness, if you are down with J.Lo. The other disc contains a few remixes of songs that can be found on her “This Is Me Then” cd. My favorite is Baby, I Love You; Jenny From the Block and the Baby, I Love You remix featuring R. Kelley. He may be a slime ball but the man sure is talented musically.

Tick Tock

My clock is ticking badly.

I don’t know what in the world set off this alarm. Sometime, yesterday, I decided I’m having a baby. More specifically, Cowboy’s baby. But if he weren’t around – a baby.

I was sitting in a meeting – oh lord – yesterday I was in meetings all day, I had no choice but to daydream about crap and doodle ideas instead of listening to whatever market research blah de blah was happening in our industry. With that and I think it was meeting numero tres, I decided I’m having a baby.

There, I’ve said it to you. I also wrote it in a split email to Cowboy. I decided to write the email, not edit it and hit send. Done.

Last night, we met Jeremy out at his viewing party and of course, I’m seated next to the cutest pregnant girl ever. And of course, she’s having a baby with her boyfriend of 6 years because she woke up one day and decided she wanted one. They don’t want to be married. There like a different version of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Of course, I have her life story and didn’t pay much attention to anything else in the room. Of course, I was such a good listener that I let her talk and talk while I drank and drank.

Being drunk on a given Monday night, not so bad. Being drunk when you decided you want a baby – eeek, not so good. I called my mom and that was a huge mistake. She got all excited. Too excited. Then went into her great parenting speech about how she never thought that I needed to be married to have a child and how she’d like to be a part of a grandbaby’s life and how Russert’s passing has her thinking that life is too short. Oh, and how she just doesn’t get why I’m shelling out $30 a month for birth control. My mom is that cool. Who else would tell their daughter that? My mom’s been telling me that since I was 25. Uh huh. She had me when she was 23 and doesn’t regret one pre-marital sex moment. Yes, I’m a wedlock child.

I passed out and came into work…totally forgot about that email to Cowboy until I saw his response waiting for me like a present. A black coal present. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I got his “I’ve been married before, I love you, I want you to have my babies but there’s no rush because I’ve been in bad marriage before and there is no way I’m doing that again, so when I’m ready, then”

I hate to say this, really, I do. We need to reevaluate Cowboy and I. For serious. This is his darn excuse for everything. If I hear “I’ve been married before blah blah” one more time, I’m going to have to question it. Is it a valid reason or just a get out of jail free card? I’m so sick of hearing it.

Everything I want and that’s the reason I’m not getting it. I’m so over it. I’m over that marriage and that wife and the hard times he had in it and with her. Dunzo. I wrote him back and again I didn’t edit it. Its about time he got my raw take on this subject. And yeah too bad he has to read it while in Iraq but I’m not putting my life on hold because of it.

I’m 30. I know that’s young but I refuse to be 50 at my kid’s graduation. Even though, that’s the way its looking now. I want to be a young mom; I want to be able to still enjoy life when that child is out of the house. I want to be fun, like my mom is with me. I should’ve just gotten pregnant in high school. Gee, that’s not looking so bad right now.

Back to Cowboy…I don’t know where this will take us or what but I’m glad I got it off my shoulders. He knows where I stand. If he still chooses to stand in the “I’ve been married before blah blah” side of the room, we need a new house. Word.

I Ran that Bitch.

You will probably never hear me announce that I’m running a marathon. While I admire those that take on the challenge and I’m proud of those that finish - it’s just not, me. I have no desire to run a marathon.

I wish people would stop asking me if I will. That’s the thing when you run everyday, people expect more. It’s like when I finished college, people kept asking me if I was going to further it with grad school. Hell to the not. I have no desire to pick up a book for educational purposes ever again.

I spent 17 years of my life educating myself, six of those years were voluntary. I like to read, don’t get me wrong but reading to retain the information, no way, Jose. It’s just not me. And again, I can appreciate those that do and I’m really proud of them as well. But seriously, you need to stop asking me.

Back to running…I run about 2 miles every morning. The only reason I’m not 100 pounds in weight is because apparently it’s all about the 80% nutrition if you want to lose weight. My reasoning for running has nothing to do with weight loss. It’s about weight management. I love food and I want to eat it, all the time. I want desserts and burger and ooh – bread. I want it all. I’ve got a short life – too short for diets.

I diet when my waist can no longer fit into jeans but that usually means that I’ve gone at least 2 weeks in a row without working out or running. I run because I hate the gym. Last month I was in the gym ten minutes every day. Why do you think I found a ten minute work out plan to lose the extra weight? I hate being in the gym – all that working out and you are still in the same spot? That’s not me, either.

You may be shocked but I kind of like nature and the city sounds. Both, together and we have a winner. Hence, the Katy Trail. I ran that bitch yesterday. And it hurts. The Katy Trail was and is my marathon. All 7 miles of her. Normally, I run city blocks in the morning. On the weekends, I switch it up and run the trail.

The Katy Trail, for those non-Dallasites, is a walking, running, biking, dog perusing trail that runs midtown. I really do not like the trail for a number of reasons: mosquitoes, birds letting go of droppings from the overhanging trees above you, dogs wanting to chase you down and the cruiser.
There is always a cruiser. This is a man who is obviously on the trail in search of his next date. One day, a cruiser waited for me near the end with bottled water. It was so tempting but I knew if I took it, I’d be opening Pandora’s Box.

It’s also very intimidating. You have the runner who is sprinting the entire trail. You have the group of girls who make this their social/gossip walking hour. You have the pregnant woman who can speed walk faster than your jog. There’s the senior citizens whizzing by you. The dogs, as I mentioned and their poop that you are constantly on the look out to avoid stepping in. And there is the sports bra joggers. Ugh, I despise them.

I must see at least three girls jogging sans top, in their sports bra. They must go hand in hand with the cruiser. Do you work out in only a sports bra? I thought the word bra would automatically categorize it as an undergarment? There they are every time, no tops just sports bras. And can I tell you, for some of them, they need a top. I have a better body than them and if I ran in only my sports bra as a top…one, Cowboy would have none of it and two, I’d have cruisers chasing me down constantly. I have 34DDs*, there is no way I’d subject them to it. I’d feel like I was putting them out there on display. It’s also a fact that those same girls are the ones running with more makeup on than I consider for a Saturday night at the bar. It’s humid and we’re running. Come on.

I don’t know how long it is from beginning to end BUT one Saturday I ran into a friend on the trail. He was running, non-pant. I was panting like a dog. He lives way further down on the trail than I do and he ran a half marathon, awhile back. Yeah, I have no desire to do that either. I asked him how many miles it was from his house and back. 7 miles. WTF! Seriously? That means when I struggle run it, I’m at least running half that? Three and a half miles and I’m struggling with it? That makes no sense. That means I couldn’t even run a 5K comfortably. And something is wrong with that, especially when you run every morning.

I, at least thought I could knock down 5 miles, easy.

From that day on, I trained my butt. And I did it. Yesterday, we had off site meetings that started at 9am; so I had plenty of time to do my own marathon. I got on the trail, started at his house and ran it, to and fro. For serious. Without stopping. Take that, Katy Trail. I ran that bitch.

It felt so good, I won’t lie as soon as I finished, I felt like I could just have died right there on the spot. After the heaving and breath counts, I felt amazing. I feel a hundred pounds lighter but I’m still not even attempting a marathon. Don’t ask.


*In January I bought a new bra and it fits like a dream, it's an IPEX bra from Victoria's Secret. Between January and now, I forgot what size it was. I always thought I was a 34D and most of my bras are just that. They don't fit like the IPEX does. It's like booby heavenly spa for breasts, at least it is for my breasts. I jump around more when I'm in the IPEX. I wear tighter shirts in the IPEX too. The IPEX makes me want to cleavage it all around town. Yesterday, I was going to buy a swimsuit online, from Victoria's Secret and decided upon a bra like bikini top to keep the breasts in control while in Vegas. I had to check what size the IPEX was - how the F did I buy a DD? I never. I was shocked and a little ashamed so I didn't dare buy a suit that big. No way.

The Daily Eat

Design Crush is one of my favorite daily reads. Not only is it pretty inspiration in the form of great off the path products and pictures, but each day there is a Daily Eat.

Daily Eat is a beautiful image of a featured recipe. It makes for the most appetite inducing moment. I can never read the blog before lunch, it causes hunger pains and a troubled trip to the snack vendor machine – I could be found taking in the blog with a bag of animal crackers. More often than not, I must have whatever the Daily Eat is. Now, the blog has taken the posts to a new level – each week a featured ingredient will be key for all the Daily Eats.

I’ve been reading her for about three months and had yet to taste, until this morning. My breakfast this morning was the bomb. I’ve never had balsamic strawberries before now and oooh, I love them. I’ve always wanted to try a recipe I found a very long time ago for balsamic strawberries on top of panna cotta. That recipe laughs at me from inside our junk drawer.

When I saw this and knew there were fresh strawberries in the fridge – it was on like Donkey Kong. Last night, I got the berries drunk with balsamic and sugar. This morning while I ran I placed the Pillsbury Perfect Portions Biscuits in the oven (I swear, best invention ever, especially for moments like this when you just need to have biscuits at hand). When I was finished working out, (yeah I shortened it to only a ten minute run this morning, warm biscuits awaited me) I indulged. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. What greatness.

I think I may take on the project of attempting one daily eat a week. This looks like heaven for dinner.

CD Project: Today’s CD is another mixed one. I’m beginning to think that I once categorized my collection. I find all my singles were grouped together and now we’re on a mixed CD roll. Today was The Best of Tina Turner (I think that’s the album’s name) and my favorite is of course, the all time classic, “What’s Love Got to Do With It” and “Proud Mary” – nothing like some Proud Mary to get you in a booty shaking mood.

Keeping it Real.

A few things about me...

I cannot help but check out my butt every time I walk by a reflective surface. Narcissistic much? Maybe. I hate my butt so I am constantly checking out its status – does it look odd in these pants, should I walk differently or stand a certain way to make it appear less hateable in my eyes. Yeah I just made that word up. It doesn’t matter the source – I’m talking glass walls, bathroom mirrors, reflective windows of buildings – any reflection and I’m checking my butt out.

Sunday while putting together outfits for the week, I started hearing moaning noises and quickly determined it was coming from my neighbor. I ran into the kitchen grabbed a glass, stuck it to the wall and totally listened for over an hour. An hour plus of baby making was happening over there and I was pulled in. I miss Cowboy.

I’ve used the oddest objects to clean my teeth. Oh the shame. Anything from a pin, an earring, business card to tweezers have been in my mouth. Sometimes a toothpick isn’t always around.

I play photoshoot in front of the bathroom mirror. Sometimes! I don’t know what it is but I’ll sit there and make different mood faces and poses as if I was getting that direction from a photographer. You can always be fierce, no matter how crazy.

I have Real Simple’s Wedding Guide. No ring on my finger BUT have I told you my undying love for Real Simple? I love love love that publication to death. Don’t mess with me and my Real Simples. Its my best day of the month when its sitting in my mailbox. I take it in, hug it, unplug everything, ignore the phone, make a comfy spot, sit and enjoy every page of it. So when they came out with a wedding guide, well, you know it was no question for me to go buy it. And it is the bestest. No worries, it will safely be hidden in a drawer when Cowboy returns.

I smell markers. I cannot help it. Markers, Sharpies, dry erase markers and highlighters – I smell them before I use them. Each time I uncap it to write I must take a sniff. I don’t know what that’s all about. I’ve added animal crackers to my list of childhood eats. Maybe that’s the reason I’m not liking my ass.

CD Project: Oh what greatness today, I hope Twisted Panties pops in today. Today, ooooh I have a goody. When we were in college, Twisted Panties and I were in the same Campaigns class together. At the end of the semester we all had to get in groups and create a campaign for the GAP. Twisted Panties’ group handed out favors at the end of their presentation – a mixed CD chock full of the moment pop songs. I fell in love. This was my post workout daily dance CD for about 3 years. I could not get enough. It contains Destiny Child, Britney Spears, Christina Aguillera, Mya, Shakira and a couple others. My favorite track is Stronger by Britney Spears. But I love the entire CD.

I Really Like Office Birthday Cake

I have an intern. And it makes no sense.

For starters, I had nothing to do with hiring him. He was interviewed and hired by a different department. For some odd one, my boss suggested he come over with us – me. Because do you know how she never comes to work? Never. Plus, she told me straight up – he’s yours, use him as you will.

All the women around our department just about died. He is very close to seven feel tall. Uh huh. And apparently he is the hottest thing around here. I just don’t see it, at all. To me, he looks like a cartoon character, which one, I don’t know and he has a bad case of acne. And he is super tall.

I’ve never been the one to swoon over height nor was I the girl that made height a prerequisite to date me. Every time a female coworker finds out he is the intern, she tells me something along the lines of, “lucky you” and implies that if he was a few years older or she some years younger, yada, yada, yada. What? The intern? Ewwww.

Am I the only one? Just because you are tall doesn’t make you a hot commodity, does it?

The other reason it makes no sense that he is my intern is that he is a computer science major. We’re in the marketing department. I just found out his mom works two departments over from ours, so I’m guessing that’s it. With that comes a lot of annoying things that he does: 1. corny computer geek style jokes. 2. asking me every other minute of the day what he is doing because (hello!) he has no idea what marketing entails. This kid is like a child crying out for mommy every other 5 minutes. Oh it is annoying.

More annoying is the height. Since he is so tall, all he has to do is stand up in his cube, next to mine, and chit chat. Boy does he chit chat. Each time he hangs his head over, I get a little nervous – can he see down my shirt? He must, right? Seriously. And then I never get a warning to drop the blog reading window that I always have open on my desktop. So he must think that I never work.

Did I mention the corny computer jokes, yet? They are so bad I seriously considered calling in sick and working from home. But there was an office birthday party and that meant cake and well, you know. This company orders the best party cakes. So, I’ve got a giant dork tagged onto me for the summer. Yippee.

And word must’ve spread because a coworker called me yesterday asking if I wouldn’t mind speaking to her brother who is also interning here over the summer. What am I? The intern fairy? Seriously. I agreed and this morning, I met him for a chat. Turns out this intern is a PR major. WTF. And this is where it really makes no sense: our intern is a computer science major working in our marketing department. Their intern is a public relations major working in product technology. Things that make you go hmmm, right? Plus, their intern I can get down with, he is about two inches taller than me, so I’m guessing five foot seven or eight AND he could talk to me about real things that are happening in the world around us and not about the thingybob awesomeness of some formula to make a computer go zing or zang.

CD Project: Crap, I totally forgot this morning, so I was stuck listening to the radio – which was not bad because they were talking about the awesomeness of the NKOTB reunion tour! Holla.

It's Time to Know the Truth

I got tagged from Jennifer over at She Weds. Here are four things about Cowboy – some you may already know.
1. He taught himself how to play guitar. I think this is one of his greatest accomplishments. Not only did he teach himself, he also wrote a song – a super long song. He hates to sing it because he thinks he cannot sing. He sounds way better than me and a few thousand American Idol hopefuls that is for sure. It really saddened him that he would be without the guitar during his Iraq tour and that made me sad. Because listening to him play guitar and sing along = so very freaking HOT.

2. He makes a mean Mexican casserole dish. He is a great cook of many recipes but this casserole will knock your socks off. It’s beef, olives, salsa, enchilada sauce, I think sour cream and a whole bunch of cheese. It is so worth the 1000 calories.

3. He is in the middle of building his own computer. Obviously right now he is on break from that project, but still. How the F does one build their own computer? I’m in such awe and shock. He works in IT so I guess its not that difficult for him to do. When he starts talking about it and all the parts and how badass the computer will be because it can do such and such on the who and the what, I am completely blown away. This is coming from a guy who didn’t go to high school. From the perspective of a girl who is okay with knowing that the gadgets come on and work for us and I don’t need to know how or why.

4. This is my fave and its hard to explain, I’ll do my best. He says yes to everything and then figures out a way to make it happen later. And he means it; he is not the type that regrets saying yes to anyone and he doesn’t want to learn how to say no. Me, on the other hand…hmm. Ask him a favor and he is more than glad to help. I think its in part that he likes the feeling of being wanted or needed. Will he go out of his way? Yes. And its never with any hidden agenda or any mood. I think its awesome.

CD Project: Toni Braxton’s single, He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me. I bought this single at a drugstore in Chicago for $5. It was my first trip to Chicago, it was snowing and it was awesome. I remember my mom telling me that I looked like a kid on Christmas morning just being there. And I was. It was my first time at a Cheesecake Factory – and it’s true the Cheesecake Factory in Chicago kicks all other Factory’s asses. It was my very first time in a Tiffany’s store – right at the height of my Breakfast at Tiffany’s obsession. I ran into the drugstore to find a postcard. Bought three of them, a chapstick and this single. The song is awesome and filled with some great one liners, such as, ‘Don’t you know he begged to stay me? He wasn’t man enough for me.’
Uhm hmm.

$31.42

(That's this month's electric bill. Uh huh. And that's a complete month; no move in days to subtract, nothing. And it's been hot as heck here in Texas. Setting the thermostat to 78 degrees is the best tip ever - next to unplugging everything. I'm not kidding, the fact that there is no electricity running through our apartment right now, makes my day.)

Cream of wheat, fruit loops, fruit roll-ups, fruit gushers, hot dogs, hot dogs with mash potatoes and ice cream sandwiches. Ever since Cowboy went away, I've been eating like I'm ten years old. I find myself eating all the food I loved when I was a young little drama queen. My mom asked if I was pregnant. No. And can I add taking birth control when your boyfriend is on the other side of the planet - yeah, makes no sense, but I was advised to keep on it to keep the cycle in check. Anyways.

Me eating like I was a child or with child. When I was small my favorite dinner meal was mash potatoes with cut up hot dogs in it. Oh, yum. It brings me such comfort now. A lunch box was not complete without fruit roll-ups or fruit gushers. Now, it's a pain to suck the stuck fruit gumminess off my teeth. But the taste takes me way back. And they are only 50 calories each, so they make the perfect snack.

Even when young, breakfast was my all time favorite meal of the day. Nothing could stop cream of wheat. Nothing. A big bowl of the steaming stuff topped with a big pat of butter. Oh, mommy! It is so good. No one can make it as good as my mom can. During the summers, my parents would send us to the city (New York, that is) to spend it with my grandparents. They always made sure a box of cream of wheat was packed with us. I love my grandparents, but they couldn't and probably still
cannot even get near my mom's cream of wheat skills. It was so horrible. And we were forced to eat it. I think it had to do with the fact that they used milk and not water and they used the microwave instead of the stove.

I'll let you know right now, the secret to cream of wheat is to follow the stove-top directions verbatim. Its all about the measurement and the ratio of water or milk to cream of wheat grains. For serious. Summers killed me.

Growing older meant that you could fend for yourself in the breakfast department and I had no time to stand in front of a stove for cream of wheat; so I graduated to Fruit Loops. I need to make mental note that I always want to make breakfast for my
family; no matter how old they get. Of course this would be a just me and the kids situation if I should marry Cowboy, as he and breakfast are not great lovers, like I am with breakfasts.

A day always had to end with an ice cream sandwich back in the day. I'm talking the real kind, the kind you can find in 24 count packages at the grocery store or for
50 cents on an ice cream truck. Where are the ice cream trucks in Dallas? Cowboy and I are such a fan of the ice cream sandwich - our freezer is always stocked. As an adult, I've grown to love the 145 calorie Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich.

What started all this crazy eating habits? One, I don't see the point in cooking meals everyday like I used to when Cowboy was here. I don't know how to fourth a recipe down to be made for one and I kinda despise leftovers, depending on the
meal. Ordering food in, is not really my thing. My new old eating habit costs no more than $20 a week at the grocery store and fills up one of my canvas Go Green bags. It's a lot easier to eat like a kid again.


CD Project: Oh happy day, we've hit some Jennifer Lopez. I was wondering how much longer until we got to my good & missed stuff. Today, I pulled out a single (ha!): Love Don't Cost a Thing. Back in the day, when I bought this, I was all about dancing. It wasn't a night out if it didn't include a dance club. And this was also the song I danced to at my ballet recital - if you can call it that. Yeah. Adult ballet recitals? At the end of the 'term' we all chose what song we wanted to recite to and I chose this...odd? Yes. That's just me - why play up classical when you can funk it up with J.Lo? That's also the reason I bought the CD. I didn't want to worry about telling the deejay (our instructor) what track the song was on, so it was a lot easier to have the single and just hit play.

Let's Just Get it Over With

I loved it. I never wanted it to end. Honestly? I think the movie was ten times better than the entire last season of Sex and the City. For me, it wrapped up nicely and now I feel like its closure. I'd be okay if there was no sequel - actually, I think I prefer no sequel. I laughed, I cried and I laughed some more. I cannot wait to go see it at least once more while its in the theater and then it will be a countdown until the DVD. Seriously, best movie, ever. But with that, I did have a few problems, minor ones though.

Why didn't Samantha have any of her infamous sex scenes? Not once did we see the wild one get it on in her usual wild ways. I thought at least we'd see one with her and Smith.

And what the F was up with the duct tape on Carrie's phone? Did anyone else notice it? Her pink bedazzled phone has several strips of duct tape on it. I noticed it each time she used the phone, I had to point it out to my friend who was watching it for the second time. It annoyed the crap out of me, maybe someone else noticed it too?

And Anthony and Stanford? No. No. No. Where was Marcus? Anthony and Stannie are to hate each other. Did anyone notice that Stanford had barely two lines the entire movie? I'd just think he'd be more in it. Oh well.

I'll tell you straight up, prior to this movie if I had to rate my favorite characters favorite to least - Charlotte would have been at the bottom. No joke. But now, oh my, now. She got the best deal out of the movie. I loved her. The screaming, the finger, Mexico and her words for Big.
Seriously, if anyone should walk away with an award for anything, it should be Kristen Davis - she acted her butt off and she had me laughing with her facial expressions all the way through. I just fell back in love with her.

That's it. Loved it. Loved it.

What I wasn’t loving yesterday - you may guess, Brunch Club. And my previous concerns were not the problem at all. Brunch went great except, once again, I got crappy food. I ordered a very popular egg casserole. So popular the restaurant always runs out mid morning, I thought I'd give it a go. No go. It was so dry and tasted like egg whites with nothing else to it. Ugh. Anywho.

After we all paid the check, we took separate cars to the mall and were to meet up at 1pm in front of the theater. Movie starts at 1:30. I was already concerned. Naturally, we lost a few girls who thought they had time to shop before the showing. Shop? Are you kidding me? And they expected their seats to be saved by those that did show.

I don’t have a problem with saving a seat for anyone, but when you are saving about ten for the most popular sold out movie and women are not scared to give you the evil eye when your purse is plopped in a seat until 2 minutes before air. Aiyee. It was annoying, but I got over it as soon as the movie started. And it was like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one.

CD Project: 100% Funk by Various Artists. You know those product stands at Target that have different types of musical CDs - mostly its nature sounds? I got this one from one of them. It was $5 and so worth all its funky. Favorite track is 'Super Freak'.