Randumb

Celia Who?

2010-03-21T16:10:00.003-05:00

I decided to research a gluten free lifestyle in the modern way. I sat at Barnes & Noble, skimmed the book, and left without buying it. I think they'd sell a lot more magazines and books if they weren't so lenient. But then they wouldn't sell as much over priced Starbucks, I'm sure.

I sat at my table, speed reading (Yadda yadda yadda. Blah blah blah. Ooo! This looks informative.) and tried not to gag as the Indie suede boot, patchouli wearing college student employee glided past me. With every turn of the page, my dear sweet gut wrenched a little more. (I'm going to assume the whole wheat English Muffin wasn't a great breakfast choice.) The final pierce to my side was when the under tipped cafe worker viciously cried out, "ASIAGO CHEESE PRETZEL!" I almost instinctively raised my hand.

Only a doctor can tell me if I have Celiac's Disease for sure. But "Gluten Free Lifestyle for Dummies!" made me want to cut gluten and wheat out of my diet. Mostly out of my diet. I don't do well with restrictions. But that could just be the denial talking. From now on, I will blame all of my ailments on gluten. Appearing in alphabetical order: Acid Reflux, Acne, Achy joints, ADD, Bloating, Borborygmi (stomach rumbling), Constipation, Coughing, Depression, Dairy Intolerance, Fatigue, Mental fogginess, Migraines, Muscle cramps, Possible Cystic Fibrosis when I was a child, Sinus issues, and Sneezing. I'm also going to go with Keratosis Pilaris. Those red bumby things on my arms and legs.

If I don't lose 20 pounds, feel 10 years younger, and look 5 years younger after doing this, I WILL drink a case of beer. Just sayin'.

It's a Cosmo World After All

2010-03-20T23:00:00.002-05:00

I've been in the dregs of Cosmetology School for six months now. Estheticianoloy or something, to be specific. I spend my nights and every other Saturday trying not to let "Cosmo" students see me roll my eyes, or mouth "OH MY GAWD". (I don't try all that hard. Let's be honest.)

There are three specific situations of eye rolling and "oh my gawding" that I'd like to share with you. Two happened today. Blogger Gold.

We had a group of sisters getting facials simultaneously, and the curtain partitions were open between the treatment areas. The Cosmo to my right was giving a hand massage to her guest.
GUEST: (to her sister, my guest) Oooh, I bet your husband would give you a hand massage. Well, he'd probably think it would lead to something else. (giggles)
COSMO: Well, that's not a bad trade off, really.
ME: Eye roll, inwardly screaming, "OHMYGAWD!"
First off, INAPPROPRIATE. Second, UNBALANCED TRADE OFF. She then one-upped herself. God bless her.
COSMO: I'm having a hard time with turning 25. It's like...a quarter of my life is over.
ME: Eye roll, inwardly screaming, "OHMYGAWD!" I leaned down and whispered to my guest, "Sometimes it's really hard working with 19 and 20 year olds."
GUEST: I'll bet!

We then applied make up to all four sisters. Can you guess which ONE sister out of four didn't look like Mary Kay on steroids when they were all finished? HMMMM???? 25% ain't bad, I guess.

Now let's discuss "Creepy-skeezy-body wrap-guy". My male guest was in for the Mud Therapy Body Wrap. He said, "a girl I kinda know, I guess", suggested he do the treatment for his dry skin. I recommended something else, but he wanted to stay on the good side of his "friend"...I guess. I told him to remove his shirt and pants, and leave his shorts on. While (on my knees) applying the mud, he asked me three times if he should remove his (white) boxer shorts. Each time I screamed (in my head) "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, NO!" He just really really did not want them to get dirty. I couldn't give a shit at that point.
GUEST: Will this be relaxing?
ME: (duh) Yeah, I'll dim the lights, and you can take nap. Hopefully no one will come back here. Those 19-20 year old girls can get giggly.
GUEST: (Beavis and Butthead laugh) Really?
ME: (uuuugh) OK, give me a holler if you need anything.
GUEST: Like a drink or something?
ME: Yeah, I'll bring you a straw, or sippy cup. (OR GAG)

I had to end the treatment with applying lotion. COLD lotion. I guess I forgot to warm it up. At the end of our I-so-feel-like-taking-a-shower-now time together, he asked how much a bikini wax was. I have nothing against "Manscaping". I think he'd refuse the cold towels, however. While he was at the counter paying, and not tipping me, a Cosmo walked up and said her boyfriend was canceling his appointment and wouldn't be in that night. He pointed at her and said, "I want her to cut my hair." She's on my list of "Non-Favorites" so I wasn't all that sad for her.

There are three more months of excitement left. Pray for me.

Valentine's Massacre

2010-02-09T23:12:00.005-06:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I haven't blogged in forever. Get over it. Or, better yet...how about you do something embarassing so I can write about it and make fun of you?! OK..moving on.

After a very full glass of wine, and many Dove chocolates later, I decided to make fun of Martha Stewart. Martha has written up some tips on how to make your Valentine's Day special for that special someone, and she wrapped up delicious chocolates with these tips. I can't help but to read every single one of them. Everytime. And everytime I can't help but to think, "Really? Really, Martha? Is that the best your underpaid minions can come up with?" I'm pretty sure Dove recycles these tips every year. A few sound familiar.

#1) Dry your Valentine roses and make a sachet or potpurri. This little tidbit reminds me of the time I came home on a Valentine's Day and the Ex-Mr. Sarah K had a dozen red roses waiting for me. I laughed. Then I felt bad. Then I instructed him to never, ever spend money on roses during Valentine's week. The prices are jacked up, and the flowers die faster than normal. I wanted to know how much he spent, but I didn't want to know. "A LOT" was the answer. OK, so really, Martha? A sachet? Cuz everyone isn't as crafty as me. And I'm pretty freakin crafty.

#2) Pipe messages with chocolate and a plastic bag with a hole. Where?? On what?? That frozen pizza I just made? A sticky note? The bathroom mirror? My cats can't read, anyway. I'll skip that one.

#3) A wreath form cut like a heart is a V-day decoration in the making. Yes, but who is going to finish it for me?

#4) Insert a toothpick into the base of a tiny rose for garnish. Of what?? That frozen pizza I just made?

#5) Dry strawberries thoroughly before dipping in chocolate. This tip is better for the summer months. When strawberries are ripe and don't cost as much as 3 gallons of gas.

#6) Serve a sugar cube on a rose petal. Cha-right! Who has ROSE PETALS lying around?? I served tea to the Queen last week, and she takes it with 2 lumps, and I was so embarassed to not have rose petals to serve them on. For cryin out loud, Martha. Were you that desperate for one more tip?

In case you are anti-Valentine's Day, feel free to celebrate my half birthday. That's right. Exactly 6 months from February 14th, I will be 29. Again.

Crackhead in the Kitchen

2009-12-27T12:35:00.002-06:00

For easy, comfort food recipes, please visit Angel in the Kitchen. For randumb recipes made in a messy kitchen the size of a matchbox, please read on.

Due to high levels of caffeine this snowy morning, I decided to cook "real" food. As with all momentous occasions in my life, I decided to blog about it. Here is my recipe for "Grown up Grilled Cheese":

You will need:

Leftover Bruschetta from another wild hair moment
Frenchish type bread or something
Sharp chedder cheese leftover from a cheese/summer sausage/cracker platter
Optional:
Pepper Jack cheese leftover from above mentioned platter
Bacon would be really really good to, but I didn't have any
Crappy blizzard like weather

The mall opened at 11AM, and in this town that means the weather wasn't totally life threatening. Marcy and I tied rope around our waists and tethered ourselves to my Escape in case we couldn't find the door.

Butter up your bread, layer cheese to your liking, top it with the Bruschetta, and fry to a golden brown.

Fake spray butter and leftover wine optional*

The Bruschetta was something I had been craving for a couple of days, so I whipped that up last night. I used ripe Roma tomatoes, but I think Grape tomatoes might have tasted better. Whichever you choose, don't use tomatoes that are too soft. The texture of a firm tomato is much better.

Some chopped tomatoes
Some light olive oil
Some balsamic vinegar
Some garlic
Some basil

Let it sit a while to let the flavors mingle. I fried the French bread in some olive oil. I got the craving for Bruschetta after watching the movie "Julia and Julie". As with all trips to the grocery store, don't watch that movie on an empty stomach. I refuse to read the book. The weight gain would depend on how long it would take me to read it.

Because waxing your own armpits isn't all that funny

2009-12-20T16:39:00.003-06:00

OK, OK, it's a little funny. After you clean up the wax and your skin grows back in two weeks.

Yes, I've been neglecting you all. I've been absorbed in my own little academia world of hair removal and zit zapping, and making important life decisions, such as "is it Cabernet that I like best, or a Merlot? Why do I not write myself a note before I drink the entire bottle and forget if I actually liked it or not?"

I'm a hair removal fanatic. It's such a sense of satisfaction. Unless you have some bimbo with small, yet fleshy pits telling you how she wants it done. She wanted it done the wrong way. That was an hour of my life I'll never get back. I bought myself my own waxing kit. I don't know why. We have plenty of downtime at school, and we can wax ourselves whenever we want.

I eagerly set up my wax pot, and attempted to pull off the lid. They fill the pots to the top, and the wax stuck to the lid, and pulled like taffy. So I did the dumbest thing, and used my fingers to separate the wax from the lid. It was all over my hands! My kit came with 7 bottles of pre and post waxing lotions, tinted concealer, surface cleaner, yet NO wax remover. I know this, because I checked each bottle 3 times. Covering them all with more and more wax. I panicked and tried the surface cleaner and nail polish remover, swearing up a storm the entire time. My classmate lives 8 blocks from me, and I thought of calling her because I knew she would have wax remover. Then I imagined covering my phone in wax. I knew the cats would be of no help. There was a young man who lost his arms in a farming accident and dialed 911 with a pencil in his mouth. That was plan C. Then I remembered that our wax remover at school is oil. Pam Olive Oil cooking spray worked like magic!!!

Once my hands were clean, I was ready to wax away. I was told you could re-wax over the same spot twice with the brand of wax I bought. You can...if you want to rip more skin off your armpits than that top layer that you "exfoliated" the first time you waxed it. It only takes 2 weeks to heal.

I was bored today, so I thought I'd wax my legs and underarms. I needed something to prop my foot onto, so I used a short cat perch.

I keep the wax pot on the back of the toilet. Probably a mistake.

I switched from one type of wax to another, so I put the one I was no longer going to use in the bathtub to cool off.
I think the only mistake I made was not keeping the bathroom door closed.

I'm not going to even go into how I've tried to wax my own "downstairs" more than once. It involves a lot of sweating, swearing, and deep breaths. And yet I'm dumb enough to try it again. Right now. Gotta go....

Adventures in Brazil

2009-11-15T16:51:00.003-06:00

It's been a long time, friends. I have been busy with work, school, and booz-uh-socializing on the weekends. Then my Firefox wasn't working, and that's where all my bookmarks are saved (can't remember all my passwords, even though I'm sure they're pet names or something) and so I lost track of blogs. Not that I have any energy to read much more than facebook updates after I get home. Anyhoo....on to the one actual funny thing that has happened to me in months....

A couple weeks ago we jumped into the Brazillian waxing in my psuedo beauty school. Cosmetology students are a different breed. We call it "The 13th Grade". Imagine a "Legally Blonde" slumber party with lots of hair cutting and eyebrow waxing and hijinx. But I digress.

There we were, me and my one classmate, an educator, the person who was teaching us the waxing, and Ron, the one guy from the day class. Oh, yeah. RON. The girls from the day class refused to let Ron in on their waxing tutorial. He's in his 50's, and a nurse. My classmate and I figured since we have such little shame left, what's the harm in letting him watch something that he will probably never practice? Hmmm? Besides, when you're lying there with all your business on display awaiting an unknown pain to be forced upon you, you tend to not pay attention to who is in the room. If you ever have to go through a Brazillian waxing tutorial, here's a tip: while you are on display, waiting for the wax to harden, having a light chat with the spectators at your feet, try not to make eye contact. When there is a lull in the conversation, their eyes migrate to the wax. And I'm not talking about the wax that's on the cart in the wax pot next to you.

My classmate had waxed one of my eyebrows the day before. When you rip the strip off, it's best to apply some pressure to the skin. It lessens the pains. She kept forgetting to do that, so afterward I told her to try to remember that when waxing someone. And that was just my eyebrow. Could you imagine if she forgot that important step on a larger, more sensitive area?

So there I am, half of me waxed by the pro, the other half being practiced on by the non-pro. She started on the peripheral first. I told her a few times to apply pressure with her hand. And then we got down to business. I'm so glad there were no actual clients there that night. We don't have individual rooms. It's one large room with hospital curtains and beds that we close off when working on a client. I would've been really embarrassed and felt even worse after she ripped that stip of wax off of me and I sat up and pointed at my classmate and yelled (out of pain) "YOU AND THAT FRICKIN' HAND!" I think that rush of adrenaline covered up the pain immediately. It wasn't so bad after I laid back down and apologized profusely for scaring her and for being psychotic.

Sadly, she still forgets to apply pressure when she waxes other areas of me. I think going out for beers after waxing each other's hoo-ha's made her forget all about me screaming at her and my silly helpful hand tip.

(ignore the picture I used. never once did we have to raise our legs or get on all fours. i used it for theatrical purposes, of course)

Back to School

2009-09-07T18:35:00.005-05:00

OK, I'll back up for those that don't know the back story. I got a call last week from the cosmetology school telling me that I could start school this September, and not have to wait until March. I basically freaked out on the Admissions gal, telling her that she never called me at "the end of the week" like she said she was going to. And that was a month ago. How do you call someone out of the blue and tell them they are starting school in one week? I weighed the Pro's and Con's (freaked out and told everyone that would listen that I was confused and they all told me to go for it), and decided to go. I didn't want to miss the opportunity. Tomorrow is my first day. I'm not sure what to expect or if I'm supposed to wear my black scrubs on the first day. What to wear on my first day of school? This isn't the first time I've asked this question.

I was super excited for my first day of school. First grade, was it? I carefully selected the perfect outfit. I'm a bit obsessive, so I laid the clothing on my bed. I'm a bit obsessive, so I decided to put the underwear inside the pants, the socks in the legs, and the shoes on the floor. "It's like an outfit!" I said. So proud of that outfit.

My sister and I got ready for school, and headed off on foot with Mom. We got around the block when I started to feel something odd in my pants. We kept walking, but that feeling didn't go away. I finally shook the stored underwear that was tucked inside my pants from the night before out of my pant leg. I had completely forgotten that I had put them inside my pants, and had put on another pair. I told my mom what had happened. We turned around to see them about 5 feet on the sidewalk behind us. Also behind us, were two women, walking toward the school. My mom did what she does best. Delegates. She basically forced my sister to go back and get my underwear, and the two women behind us saw the whole thing. Mary Jane was mortified and mad. Of course my mom did what any mom would do in this situation. She put them in her purse and acted like nothing had happened.

I haven't been in school since 1996. I think I'm going to vomit. Everyone is really excited for me to practice facials on them. But don't worry. I'll let you all know when Bikini Waxing 101 starts. One at time, please....one at a time.

And then there were none

2009-08-19T17:40:00.002-05:00

Today marked the end of an era. The end of a battle. Our dear, weary mother shipped off child #3 of 3 to college. Her most challenging prodigy to date. Granted, he's only about 5 miles away, but it's still a big deal for those involved. Not for my sister and I. We could care less. But I think someone else is feeling unsure of herself:

"The Eagle has left the nest!" I repeat, "The Eagle has left the nest!" Thus the battle cry went as I drove away from the college this afternoon with mixed emotions. Proud, scared, excited, you name it - I can only imagine how G-man feels. We went to WalMart - thank you SK for directions - only to be shot down by every suggestion I made to him of what he might like to have in his arsenal of goodies to make it through the first 3 days. He did come around as I tempted him with Beef Jerky and Mt. Dew. By the time we made it through the check out, I was $65 poorer - again. I was driving home, about 1/2 down the road when I heard the familiar ring-tone "Hello Motto". It's so nice to know I'm still needed, if only to run over the phone charger and a water bottle. Well, Ron's at work so for now it's just me, the dog and the cat - I think I'll have a little cheese with my whine -

I don't remember her moving my sister into the dorms. She went to school in Missouri, about 5 states away. I'm sure it was tough sending off the first daughter. She was intelligent and self sufficient, and we all knew she'd be OK on her own.

The second daughter had her car packed to roof, eager to go, and really couldn't care less if she said good bye or not. I was too excited to be on my own to have all the pomp and circumstance of hugs and good byes. I was only going to be an hour and a half away. I had a glorious trailer manufactured in the '70's waiting for me. Complete with shag carpet, fake wood paneling, and vinyl flooring on the kitchen countertops and shower walls. I was intelligent, self sufficient, and did most things my way. They hoped for the best. Mom and G-man brought me home 3 days later after I started crying over the washing machine that you hooked up to the kitchen sink started leaking onto the floor. But I have some fond memories of that shitty trailer, now. Over the course of 10 years, I moved back home 3 times. I'm surprised they didn't change the locks.

He's in slight denial about what he'll need or want while living in the dorm. He's also in slight denial about his schedule, location of classes, and generally everything involved with his new college life. When he was about 3, he got his hand stuck in something and started freaking out. I just laughed and said, "Live and learn, live and learn". And that's pretty much all I can say about this new experience as well.

How NOT to spend your birthday

2009-08-14T15:06:00.003-05:00

It's that time of year, again. Time to get older. Time to look back on the past year and reflect. Time to look forward to the year ahead. I'm only 34. Not much of a milestone. Next year, however, if I don't accomplish something and feel like I'm living like a real adult, I will be very bummed. People think I look around 27. I think I act like I'm 21 and feel like I'm 54.

I thought I'd treat myself to a nice present. I was going to run around town and change my married last name to my maiden name. It took us 2 years to get divorced, so who cares if it's taken over 6 months to change my last name? Pain in the ass to change your name. It started and ended at a long DMV line. I saw a woman walk into the building, and immediately walk out. A lot of people do that when they see the line. She however, had forgotten her sleeping toddler in her car. I'm sure if it wasn't 90 degrees with 85% humidity, the kid would've survived.

A man eventually came around to ask us why we were in line, to make sure we were in the right line, or to put the lucky ones in a shorter line. "I'm changing my last name." "Did you get married?" he asked. *sigh* Do I tell him "No, the sex change was a success" or "No, I want to make my stripper name legal"? "Divorce" I replied. He asked if I had the stamped paperwork. Paperwork, yes. Stamped? Notarized? Huh? A little while later another woman came around to ask why we were in line. She however was smart enough NOT to ask any questions. I showed her my paperwork, and indeed it was not correct. But I could stay in line and they would help me figure out what I need. Awesome.

The sleeping toddler ahead of me was now awake, and generously expressing everyone's distaste and impatience for the DMV. A girl walked in, and said "I just want to change my name. I have to stand in this line?" The guy behind me was nice enough to answer. "Yep! They've already come around twice to make sure we were in the right line." And in my head I screamed, "YOU'RE WELCOME." So the answer was: "This is just like a receipt. Saying you did it." Yeeaah....so take it!! Nope. Not good enough. So why the hell did the state of Illinois not just give us the notarized paperwork after it was finalized? As if on cue, the toddler acted out my disdain for this man and his bad news.

So, then I did what I always do when the going gets tough: shopping. Mistake #2. I ate a lot a lot of take out Chinese Sunday and Monday due to my school disappointment, and I'm pretty sure the junk I've eaten since then has gone straight to my gut. I needed a sassy new birthday shirt for tonight! One that hasn't been seen and photographed and published on facebook! No go.

Mistake #3: go to WalMart on a Friday afternoon. Apparently half the town took the day off for my birthday. I had just waited in another long line at DQ for a slushie, and realized I couldn't leave it in the car. I was on the phone with Marcy (who also stayed home for today's holiday) and told her "I'm bringing in this slushie. I swear to God, if the elderly greeter tells me I can't bring it into the store, I WILL bodycheck them." Turns out, God was listening. The greeter was in a wheelchair, and even though it was motorized, I was still able to outrun the old bag. It's freakin' HOT today! I wanted my slushie, a new fan, and my old last name back! Is that too much to ask?

Anyway....you all know what I'll be doing tonight and tomorrow:

Walking on Broken Glass

2009-08-10T22:52:00.003-05:00

"Sometimes, certain of God's blessings arrive by shattering all the windows" (Brida, Paulo Coehlo)

First off, let's give props to Alex for recommending that I read "Brida". It was really good, and I thank her.

OK, back to me.....I hate listening to my voicemails. "Blah blah blah..call me...." I got an unknown call on Friday at work, and couldn't answer my cellphone. I finally listened to the message on Sunday. It was my cosmetology school telling me I was the only person signed up for night Esthetician classes that were starting on September 8. So my options are to go days, full time, or wait until March when the next classes will start. I sobbed and sobbed. All day. I had just bought school supplies. This is something I have been looking forward to, something to make my meaningless job less annoying, something to accomplish, something new that would give me a happier future. Pulled out from under me. I have been in a funk for 3 weeks, and this was the icing on the 3rd week.

"It's probably a good thing," I told myself an hour later, while in the drive thru, waiting for my Chinese comfort food. I would have had simultaneous car payments and school payments for a few months, and I haven't been so great at saving money. Do I want to hear other people say that? No. No one likes sage advice when they feel like crap. But thanks anyway, Mom. No, we want empathy, and have our feelings acknowledged. We want you to listen, say you feel bad for us, and leave it at that. (Or if you are Nicole, get really angry, and plot revenge. I thank you for that.) Not ignore what we say, or go on about how great your day is going. Selfish of me? Maybe. But when someone is hurting, they should be allowed such feelings for a time. Some people aren't equipped to deal with other people's emotions, though. Selfish of them? Maybe.

I don't really know what to do at this point. I guess I have to wait until March, and hope for the best. Right now it really stings.

Desperate Housewife

2009-08-03T17:52:00.004-05:00

My sister has yet to start blogging, despite my encouragements. I think blogging is a great way to share your thoughts and feelings with complete strangers (ie venting)! She chooses to slowly peck away at us with facebook updates, tweets, and emails. Her blog would swing between fresh topics such as: health care reform, stupid husband antics, the benefits of breast feeding for not only women, but also children and society, the frustrations of shopping, creating delicious and nutritious organic meals, how to resist the urge to runaway from pre-hormonal tweener girl and moody young son, current political events, insane mother inlaws, how to be thrifty because your husband is a complete tightwad, and cat poop. Her life is my reminder of why I enjoy being footloose and fancy free (her words, not mine). Here are excerpts from two emails. If I never post again, it's because she has killed me over this. Enjoy! (one of 2 annoying mother in laws gave her a "break" from the kids today)

EMAIL #1: This little girl kitty is a dumb ass. She won't drink water out of the dog's water dish so I set one out for her. She won't drink out of that so she's been drinking out of the fish bowl (because really isn't water full of fish poo tastier than plain tap water?). And then for whatever reason she decided that the cup of water one of the kids had left out was even better. But she got her head stuck in it. TWICE. Ta-da! She may be retarded.

So there I was at Kohl's on the interstate there on the way out of town and it was open for 1 more hour so I stopped to look for a dress for a wedding in a couple weeks and I called you (as you would know if you ever answered your phone ahem). Apparently I am too much of a dumb ass to shop in Kohl's because I couldn't find the dresses. I finally figured out they didn't have one section with just dresses. They were spread all out between chunky, skanky, granny, petite (no dresses there), and too damn young. It blew.

Have to go save the fish from the evil devil cat who is soaking his toes in the water as I type this. I guess that was my break.

EMAIL #2, un-edited: Why did I get these dumb cats?! So the stoopid boy is in the litter box this AM scratching and scratching and scratching and the little airhead is sitting outside waiting for her turn (hellooooo crossing my legs out here) so I pull off the lid of the litter box figuring if I scoop it out maybe he'll just go away so the girl can pee.

Despite about 5 min of scratching, there was a huge turd in there without a single grain of litter on it. I go to try and scoop it so he'll just get the heck out of the box... aaaaaand he steps right on it. Then he shakes off his foot and sprays shit all over the bathroom walls. Just shoot me.

My dumb ass husband (sensing a theme here?) moved the fish bowl last night so it is sitting wedged between the wall of the buffet and a box I have sitting on the buffet. I say to him, "you know the cats can climb that little box and sit on top of it and still get to the fish?" He says, "Oh yeah, I just figure it will slow them down a little. Of course that airhead kitten will probably fall in and drown herself." Which is probably true the way things are going w/these dingbats. So glad I'm "getting a break". Right! I need a break from my house, not my kids! Sheesh!

And my supportive, sisterly response on her facebook wall:

every time you email or call me, you just confirm that your life sucks. imagine how bored you'll be when the kids move out and all the animals are dead.

Things I learned

2009-07-26T14:46:00.006-05:00

while schlepping pizza to "a bazillion" Boy Scouts and their parents and siblings at a mini-baseball daycamp with the FM RedHawks and then watching a free baseball game:

1) It hurts to turn down last minute tickets to see Dave Matthews Band
2) Boys under the age of 10 can be quite rambunctious
3) The choice between cheese or pepperoni can be quite difficult
4) Some Boy Scouts have really hot dads
5) Schlepping pizza and checking out hot dads and trying to figure out if they are married are hard to do at the same time
6) 250 people can walk past my stepdad in the pizza line and not tell him his fly is open
7) If a dad comes through the line, and he looks like Richie Sambora from Bon Jovi, chances are he's not really Richie.
8) I am a pizza line nazi, as well as a sandbagging nazi "KEEP IT MOVING, PEOPLE"

9) Having your mother stand on the 3rd baseline dugout and guessing 3 ringtones at the top of the 5th inning in front of 4,059 fans can be somewhat embarrassing (she got 3 out of 3 with some help from a spectator, and we were sitting behind the 1st baseline dugout)
10) Having your mother tell you that you can drink at the game, but you have to take your shirt off can be unsettling, also (boyscout shirt)
11) PBR is actually really good beer. Especially when it's on special for $2 for a 16oz can
11) PBR is actually really good beer for pairing with an over priced caramel apple
12) PBR is actually really good beer for giving you gas
13) Semi-pro baseball players are hot
14) Seeing the bat boy for the opposing team pose for a picture for his proud dad, and waving to his family in the stands who drove 10 hours to see him in action is really sweet
15) The bat boy for the opposing team ran like a girl

Yeah, I'm still here

2009-07-21T21:40:00.003-05:00

Going along, minding my own business....working out, cleaning the apartment, eating right, making Marcy do stupid antics cuz I hem her shirts for free, feeling groovy, and then....not so much. It seems like ever since I had my back adjusted and was in pain for two weeks, I've just lost my zeal and my focus. Then I realized this time of year I tend to re-evaluate my life. I think it's the impending birthday next month.

It started out as wanting some down time. I like being alone and recharging my batteries. Being hilarious and entertaining takes some effort, you know. I have perfected one of my crafts, so that was fun for the week. Shopping is so exciting when you actually have a reason to buy a bunch of useless crap! Then it turned into Firefox not working, so I had to use Internet Explorer, which I hate, and had to remember passwords and blah blah blah. So the blog following got off schedule. And I then I no longer cared what people were saying on Twitter. Eating out was too enticing to pass up. The job is...not to be bitched about on the internet. ($#@&*^!) And the gym? Let's not talk about it. *sniff*

I have been trying to practice an attitude of gratitude everyday. I'm trying to remember that what I think about, I bring about. However.....I'm sure even Ghandi got constipation. To sum it up, I shall use my facebook status update for tonight:

thank YOU for the tension headache. (i can practice an attitude of gratitude however i f*cking want)

There is a reason to live, though. NKOTB announced they will do another cruise in May 2010, and the NKOTB Concert Committee just might go this time!!! There's a reason to save money, sell my new little crafty item (yes, i'll blog them), and hit the gym!

Randumb Outtakes

2009-07-05T21:04:00.003-05:00

What a busy holiday weekend I had.

Put away some laundry. (The shirt says "I live in Fargo. Really")

Laundry makes me tired, so I had to take a nap ASAP when it was all over.

Met the most high maintenance customer at Pier 1. (Her photographer was also very bossy)

Then I took another nap. That's a good way to spend a Sunday.

Happy Birthday, America

2009-07-01T18:51:00.005-05:00

It's Weigh in Wednesday, and you know what that means! CUPCAKES! And maybe something else that i just couldn't walk away from....

Last night I went to to Bed Bath and Bullshit, I mean Blood Bath and Beyond, I mean Bed! Bath! and BEYOND! to try out some bathroom scales. And when I say "try out" I mean I selected one that gave me the lowest weight, and that's the weight I reported to my team. (A .2 difference is a lot!) Only down .5 this week. Oh well. I'll eat some Cookie Brownie Bars and blow something up this weekend. That always makes me feel better.

Cleansing Thoughts: Ghetto-fied

2009-06-30T20:26:00.004-05:00

Clearly, I have too much time on my hands. Bilby gave me the idea. Blame him. Why buy those little Cleansing Thoughts cards when you can make them yourself?! I'm crafty! And if you make them yourself, you can tailor your messages to your own needs. Such a good idea. All I used was some cute sticky notes, black marker, sandwich bag, inspiration and duct tape.

Soap gets in your eyes

2009-06-29T19:59:00.003-05:00

I got an email notifying me that Kris Jones is now following me on Twitter. Who? Well, it turns out she is a an entrepreneur, and she created "Cleansing Thoughts". They are affirmation cards that are water resistant, and you attach them to your shower wall with the removable holder. Or something. Your mind is more open in the morning, and it's the best time to send positive thoughts into the universe, so you "create" a good day for yourself. I don't know about you, but I have my morning routine timed down to the millisecond. And I wear glasses, so I can't see anything. So it's rush rush rush, and half the time is spent with my eyes closed because I don't like water in my eyes. (this is the point where my sister will be inspired to leave a long story in the comments about me and my hate of water in my eyes. it burns!) All kidding aside, these are pretty cool. They could make a cool gift. All seriousness aside, here are some other shower items that could be cool gifts, as well:

(INSERT CREEPY SOUND AFFECT HERE)

NOT SURE IF THEY COME IN A VARIETY OF SIZES, OR JUST DD?

PICK YOUR PRODUCT: SOAP, SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER?

MY WORST FEAR:

Awe-suuuum?

2009-06-25T18:07:00.003-05:00

Aw, thanks, Queen Bee! She was tagged as awe-summmm, and counted me in, too! So now I have to blog a third day in a row. You people will be so sick of me soon.....

I have to:

1. List 7 things that make me awe-summm!
2. Pass the award onto 7 bloggers that I love
3. Tag those bloggers to let them know they are now Queens too (and link back to the Queen who tagged you)

7 Things That Make Me Awe-Summm!

1. I'm just so darn funny
2. I've lost about 10 pounds in 2 months
3. I no longer feel bashful about sharing my weight
4. I try hard to be a better person at least 5 days a week
5. If you're feeling bad, I'm quick to try to make you feel better
6. I hem Marcy's shirts for free (I sit on them for 4 months, but whatev)
7. I put people at ease and make them feel comfortable. Total strangers love chatting me up

OK- I will tag these next 7 Queen bloggers, but if they don't choose to participate, that's OK:

Kelley @ Pass the Xanax cuz she's one of my oldest friends who needs to keep blogging
Becky @ The Courteous Chihuahua cuz she is so funny and needs to keep blogging
Alex @ Don't Put Up a Fuss cuz we've gotten each other through some tough retail times
Sass @ Are You Sassified? cuz I think she may be going through some of her own tough times?
Alix @ Casa Hice cuz that was one of the best bikini waxing stories I've ever read
Braja @ LOST and FOUND in India cuz no one but her can strike such a balance of writing that is one day beautiful and spiritual, and the next: tawdry
Bilby @ The Universe of Bilby cuz he taught me Australians don't really say G'day. I think he's a great writer (when he focuses!). Um...sorry it's a queen award, dude.

I think all the bloggers I follow are Awe-suuuum! Ivy and Haley, The Constant Chill, Leslie that saucy wench, Queen Bee, Martini Mom, Lissa, and Team Silver bloggers. Go to my profile to find everyone's links and read them all!

Do what now? Wednesday

2009-06-24T19:07:00.002-05:00

Who doesn't love a good weight loss blog? This will be a blog filled with emotional highs and lows, intrigue, delusion, betrayal, and failed mechanics.

Dear Diary: I stepped on the scale today, and I'm down to 148.5 pounds. I almost cried! Hard work pays off, and I can lose more than a pound a week!! I'm hungry. Weigh In Wednesday will be great!

Dear Diary: OMG. Today I stepped on the scale, and I weigh 146.5 pounds! Holy crap! Life is amazing! I feel thin. My ass is totally smaller. I feel like my thighs are melting away. This weigh in will totally help out my team! I'm sore. Vegetables and soy patty again? Bleh.

Dear @$#&*!! Diary: WTF?? It's Wednesday. I step on the scale, and guess what? Hellooo...no I DO NOT weigh 120 pounds! Well, maybe, it's possib- NO, Sarah, NO. That scale is not working. Ok, no biggie....calmly go to the ghetto bathroom scale. Step on, exhale to lose all possible ounces...uh...crap, I can't read the little lines. I'm not on the big line, so that's good. Is it one or two little lines left of the big line? Do I ask the chick working? "Hi, uh, I have a weigh in tonight, and I'm getting old, and I can't see that far down, can you read the scale for me? And after that, will you please fix that other scale? Oh, and uh, sorry about that hole in the wall...behind the scale....that's a piece of crap."

Slow and steady wins the race. 149. The End.

Everything you didn't want to know about me A-Z

2009-06-23T14:36:00.005-05:00

I picked this meme up from Sassy B, who picked it up from someone else, who got it from someone else, and blah blah blah. The internet is one big virus, don't you think? This A-Z of me is very facebook, but it's fun to be randumb and post random blogs. Feel free to do this on your own blogs, or share some of yourself in the comments section.

A - Age: 33 (or 29 for the 5th time)

B - Bed size: Full (lame use for B, but oh well. at least it wasn't BRA SIZE. B)

C - Chore you hate: Washing dishes (I used to have a husband for that. *sigh*)

D - Dog's name: It was Jake. You all remember THAT blog, don't you?

E - Essential start your day item: Bar soap. Not a body wash girl.

F - Favorite color: Rainbow!

G - Gold or Silver: Silver

H - Height: 5'3" and maybe a little extra?

I - Instruments you play(ed): violin.

J - Job title: Workflow Coordinator (whipping girl)

K - Kid(s): Tend to turn my biological clock backwards

L – Lick or bite: I prefer to smell my food first

M - Mom's name: HAPPY 60TH BIRTHDAY, NORMA!! (how the 3 of us haven't put you in the looney bin, we'll never know)

N - Nicknames: Snavely, Sarah K

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Nope

P - Pet Peeve: When people have food on their face. It's called "using a napkin in regular intervals"!

Q - Quote from a movie: "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving!" Auntie Mame

R - Right or left handed: Right

S - Siblings: 30 something sister (she's OLDER, hehehe) and 18 year old brother

T - Time you wake up: Depends on Tigger. 4am, 5:15am, 6:32am, whenever the fancy strikes the little bastard.

U- Underwear: I prefer my drawers to cover my ass, not go in between it

V - Vegetable you dislike: I've tried beets once. DIRT

W - Ways you drink your coffee: Black, not too hot, the stronger the better

X - X-rays you've had: teeth, chest, finger. And whatever else in the airport.

Y - Yummy food you make: Oh, I just love cooking from scratch! (Scratch my way into the box)

Z - Zoo favorite : I hate zoos. They make me sad. So that leaves the gift shop? "I came, I saw, I did a little shopping." My vacation motto.

And they're off!!

2009-06-18T18:06:00.003-05:00

(I didn't obtain reproduction rights for this cartoon)

After reading this blog, I was reminded of a morning last spring. It went something like this.....

I had been living in this apartment for almost a year. It's near downtown, but still a good neighborhood. (I haven't seen any transients for a while, but the nice weather just started) I can't control my heat (radiators) so I have my windows open pretty much everyday, year round. I was lying in bed, not quite ready to get up for the Saturday. I started to hear someone's voice, faraway, and it sounded as though it was on a speaker, or bullhorn. The person was very emphatic, and I was thinking "Hitler? Protest? Hitler??" Well, the abortion clinic is downtown, but it's located next to a wonderful deli that makes everything from scratch (I found a hair in my ginormous meatball, it's that homemade), and sells cute stuff, and is full of older women lunching, so nothing bad really happens down there. Then I heard a gun shot. Then I heard yelling and shouting. I don't really remember when I figured out that it was the start of the annual Scheel's Marathon (a big deal around here), but it was pretty freaky for awhile. Thank God I didn't call the police. That would've been embarrassing.

Flea Bags

2009-06-14T17:05:00.003-05:00

my cats think everything in my hands is potentially delicious

I love going out with Marcy. She's a celebrity. So often people say hi to her, and after they walk away, I ask, "Who was that?" She usually answers, "I have no idea." It happened twice this weekend. The first time, Marcy asked the girl how she knew her. They had worked together, apparently. That wasn't the first time she ran into an old coworker she had blocked out. We were having ice cream one night, and this woman was almost heart broken that Marcy didn't remember ever working with her. Even though they sat a few desks away from each other. She needs to start scrapbooking these people, and write down their annoying qualities so she can look back and remember them the next time they say hi to her.

Anyway.....we went to the flea market today. The most beautiful day ever! Mother Nature has been a total beotch lately, but she finally took a Pamprin and gave us some perfect weather. I love looking at all the pretty things, and being spiteful because I wish I had the time, energy, and money to keep up my crafting. I would love to sell my wares, but I don't have any motivation. I'm considering an Etsy shop. But my crafts are another blog, for another time...Here are the two items I picked up today (sunburn and headache not pictured).

This is a little glass that reminds me of an ice cream parfait glass, nested inside a rusty spring. $6 I love all things rusty. MOM: "Why can't you ever buy anything new?" I just love distressed. I identify with it. The vase will sit on my desk at work, to help me forget I'm in hell.

No idea what this was from or for. There were four of them, and this is the only one that wasn't soiled. I think maybe they were to be pockets on an apron. I also collect aprons, but held back today. I don't wear them. I just like the idea of them. I think I'll sew this onto a flour sack towel. $1

To dye for

2009-06-11T18:06:00.011-05:00

I had to teach the peeps at work a new skill, and you'd think I was teaching them quantum physics. More than one person mentioned needing a drink after work. I really felt bad for the girl who quit smoking on Monday. Bad timing. What happens when you smoke with the "patch"? I don't want to know....So I told them I'd bring them treats on Friday to make them feel better.

I've been looking for a reason to make these cupcakes for a while. It's only overdraft fee reversals, but still a good reason to self medicate! I also love anything "rainbow". I'd put a rainbow sticker on my car, but that would be counterproductive to my hopes of dating a man in the near future. Anyhoo, I think I first saw these on The Courteous Chihuahua blog, but if not, oh, well. Shout out! Check out her Face in Hole blog. FUNNY!

I used a vanilla cake mix and just four colors of regular food coloring. I was tempted to buy the neon, though.

Separate the batter into as many colors as you want, I guess? Blue is the least appetizing color, by the way. But in cupcakes? Who gives a sh*t? I went a little heavy on the dye. "You can always add, but you can't take away" is my mantra. I was feeling frisky, though.

(you can set your bowls right side up, but sideways works for me)

YUM! Finger paints!! I started with using the "2 spoon method". Don't cross your streams!!! You don't want to taint the bowls of colors. If you drop the colors in one by one, quickly, that works almost better, and faster. The batter is thick enough that it doesn't really spread too fast.

I frosted them with lemon flavored frosting, just for added punch. I just took one bite, then threw the rest away. {hahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!! *wipes tears from eyes*} Gotta go lie down now...the sugar rush is killing me!

Let's get crackin

2009-06-10T09:00:00.000-05:00

Worst.dieting.week.EVAH! I'd like to thank my brother for having a birthday, graduating high school, my mom for having taken time off work and cooking and taking us out to eat (multiple times), Aunt Mabel for putting on a great spread with plenty of sweets on hand, and Bobby for also having a birthday. All in the span of a week. You all suck. (No, not really.)

I never thought I'd say this, "I can't wait to go back to work!" Actually, if I never went back, I'd be quite content. But normalcy, and routine is what we all need. Except the part about having to clean my apartment. I do need to crack the whip on myself and get back business, however.

The past few days I can smell something similar to rubber cement in the hallway of my apartment complex. Then, when I walk into my apartment, it's stronger. The cats aren't dead, or more spastic than normal, so I guess it's all OK.

Almost Famous

2009-06-08T21:58:00.003-05:00

I have no idea why people want to get mentioned in my blogs. Don't they read all the Marcy posts? I don't hold back, people. I do tell them they need to embarrass themselves in order to be written about. What I don't tell them is it's still not a guarantee. Muwahahaha!

Had a busy four days. Baby bro had his 18th birthday on Friday, graduated high school on Saturday, and our sister came up from IL with her kids, so we spent some quality family time together (eating naughty food). Isn't that a sweet pic of Jordan and Brenda aka I wanna be mentioned in your blog? Notice how Jordan is too preoccupied with looking at herself in the camera screen, and not into the lens. Dork.

I'm off work Monday and Tuesday, and so far it's been quite lovely. Except the part where my bro and sis were calling me and stalking me because they wanted me to bring them Mt Dew, this morning. I'm thinking an intervention is in order. Mom cleaned out boxes from the rafters of the garage for about four hours, and tried to pawn stuff off on my sister, the victim, who also expected to be blogged about. MOM: "These are your baby clothes! Don't you want them?" MJ: "They all have garage sale stickers on them! Apparently you didn't want them, either!" I guess we bond differently than normal families.

I'll leave you with a parting shot of our poor brother's birthday/graduation cakewreck my sister and I designed. All we had was pink frosting. That just added to the wreck mystique, though.

Oh, for the love of jeans!

2009-06-03T19:44:00.004-05:00

Snap. I joined this seven week weight loss team challenge, and come to find out I have to blog my weight?? Can't we just email it?? It's all for the love of Team Silver (foxes). Ok, I added the foxes part. Maybe if I just sneak in the fact that I'm currently one hundred fifty one pounds no one will notice?

When I tell people I want to lose 25-30 pounds (sorry, bilby, i don't convert to kilos) they're surprised. It's distributed well. (no, it's not in my boobs) So well in fact, that when I was getting measured for my dress for Sarah D's wedding, the Korean seamstress slapped my thigh and said "OH, you got big thighs! You don't look it!" I just about slapped her. She didn't charge me for the measurements or verbal abuse. And that was when I was about 15 pounds lighter!

So here's a linkback or whatever to the sista hood website. I have to do this every Wednesday. I need to make weight loss a helluva lot funnier, or I'm gonna start losing readers AND pounds! You can join in on the fun Marcy and not be on a team and lose weight and get support and whateva. FREE! Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans

Oh, snap...

2009-06-01T20:25:00.003-05:00

My friend Nicole, aka June Clever, has taken on "oh, snap" as her new favorite saying. She says it in the whitest girl way possible, and I laugh every time. She says it whenever something bad happens. Which fortunately tends to be often.

Remember my last post? "I give life decisions about an hour. Sometimes thirty minutes" Yeah, I gave the next one all of five minutes. I have a very short attention span, so the thought rolled around in there about 3 times, while I was busy looking at shiny objects. I've joined a 7 week weight loss team challenge over at Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans. There's a dude, too. Maybe they'll change the name to "Dieters in the Hood"?

I'm a month and five pounds into my weight loss journey, and starting to loosen the death grip on my diet. Which means it's time to find more ways to stay focused! I'm on Team Silver, and Lissa has informed me we're goin down. Yeah, IN POUNDS, girlfriend! After I joined I thought "Oh, snap. What did I get myself into?" And then I thought "I hope I don't have slackers on my team. I hope I'M not the slacker on my team." I'm sure they're all quite lovely.

If you want to have that same thought....feel free to head on over to their website! They WILL shred you, my friend. (Marcy)

Me and My Big Ideas.....

2009-05-31T15:43:00.003-05:00

Yeah, I've been layin low. It's all going to the gym, eating mostly vegetarian, drinking only water, keeping the digs clean. That doesn't leave much time for looking for trouble. Unless you count deciding to go back to school as trouble.

As Mama Alex said, "All those trips to the spa paid off!" (Well, as of post time, facebook doesn't say her baby has come yet..waiting, waiting, waiting) I signed up for The Salon Professional Academy's Esthetician course. I gave it a few weeks thought. Usually I give my life decisions about an hour, sometimes 30 minutes. As I was signing my life away, and getting the financials, I thought I was going to throw up. I have to be confident that I can pay for it. It'll be a lifestyle change, but for the better. Starting September, I'll be going 3 nights a week, and every other Saturday. And after 43 long weeks, on July 3rd, 2010, I'll get my license. Who wants to be the first victim of my bikini waxing services??

I'm very thankful for all the support I've been getting for this decision. I'm being told I'll be great at it, and it's perfect for me. I'll keep doing my microderm/chemical peels to minimize my acne scarring on my face. That's what's really bothering me, but also why I decided to do this. I'm worried it won't go away as much as I hope it will, and people won't think I'm good advertising. When I go to the skin and laser clinic now, I just stare at everyone's pore-less faces, wishing that I had that perfect, smooth skin. I've been told my skin will get better. It'll just take time. I'm also doing this because for some reason, anytime I see an advertisement for a spa, or just see the word, I perk up like a cat that hears the can opener. I think I'll finally have a career I enjoy.

I'm excited to start this new adventure, and trying not to think about finding a job! I'm not too keen on moving right now. North Dakotans aren't all that metropolitan and frivolous. I hate to break it to you. I guess I'll have to change that...

JESUS, I need some coffee

2009-05-25T20:25:00.004-05:00

I got a new neighbor. I hate getting new neighbors. It's all "why is her shit in my garage? this isn't self serve storage, honey" and then I get notes on my car "don't park here anymore, it's now taken". And then I have to train the newbies not to leave their crap in the one washer and one dryer shared by 8 units. Put it in, set a timer, and take it out. Or else some creepy dude is going to pin your thong to the clothes line. Thank God my granny panties are safe from that fate.

So the new girl was moving in last night when I got home around midnight. Today I passed her unit and saw something I was not expecting. (I'm not going to take a picture of what I saw. These two images I lifted from the net are funnier.) I saw a small end table with a coffee maker on it. OK...maybe it's just there for the time being, these are small units....Then I saw the flier advertising some mission ministry music fest. In Chicago. OK....At first, I just saw the "mission" statement, and fled to DQ. (The diet is going fine. I deserved it) The whole drive I'm thinking "What the fuck? Is she running a mission out of her apartment? I realize we are walking distance from downtown, and there are a lot of sketchy characters, but I prefer it when they are NOT in my building. Are they going to sing? Worship? DETOX? It's bad enough running into a neighbor while in my robe, or ratty lounge wear while running down 3 flights of stairs to the laundry room only to be pissed off. Now I have to prepare to run into the homeless??

"Or maybe.....she'll have coffee for us neighbors in the AM...there are no coffee condiments or cups, or those little stirrer stix thingies...well, maybe she's green and is only making the organic coffee in her reusable filter and expects us to provide the rest." Damn. I just gave up coffee this week, too. Too hard on my system. Maybe this is Jesus' way of testing me.

**i was left a dollar in quarters once and a nice note apologizing for the wait for the washer. but what i really appreciated was the half a can of old milwaukee he left me on the dryer. it was still cold. that was sweet.

Training Wheels

2009-05-09T13:55:00.003-05:00

I've found this term applies to a lot of situations going on in my life right now. "Why did you bring your camera?" ME: "It's Marcy, why not?"

My Blog Muse is holding what I dubbed "training wheels for chop sticks". Very cool plastic piece that holds your chop sticks so you can actually pick up your food and look like a pro, even if you are not.

I've been using the treadmill for a few weeks now, and today I was actually able to jog for 8 minutes without feeling like I was going to need a lung transplant. I didn't want to push myself, so after I realized it was 8 minutes, I slowed my pace. I'm an idiot, I know. This slow climb to increase my stamina and watching my calories and carbs as actually paid off. My 3 pairs of jeans are loose around my phat ass. Go me!

One of my self help books is by Deepak Chopra. DChop says in his book that if you seek, you shall not find. So I asked, internally, "Why the fuck have you written like...12 books, done countless interviews, programs, as seen on Oprah, etc etc, then?? Why am I reading this??" It's like the witch told Dorothy "The magic was always inside you." You can't go on a quest to find yourself. You just have to be open to seeing your faults and open to changing them. And if you stumble upon happiness, you have to enjoy it for what it is. No matter how small. I've been trying to remember this for the past 10 years. I realized that it's an ongoing process because we change every day, every year. You don't "find" yourself. You learn to live your true self. "To thine own self be true".

And that brings us to my other book. I tell Gatsby it's my "devotional". (yes, I talk to my cats) Everyday I read the short entry, and try to remember it and live it. This week's lesson was remembering your true values, and living with integrity. I have a few friends that are struggling internally with themselves and people that are dissapointing them. This quote hits home: "When we can't control anything or anyone around us, we can gain a sense of control by living with integrity. Figure out what you need to do to take care of yourself. Don't judge others too harshly for not living up to your values, and give yourself a break for being imperfect." (It ends with "let God handle the rest". You can take that or leave that part.) So if your boss, coworkers, friends, family, kids, etc are making your life hell...remember to take care of yourself, and live for yourself, too.

Please say a quick prayer for our Uncle Larry. He's undergoing major surgery on Tuesday to remove his pancreas, spleen, gallbladder, part of his liver, and possibly part of or all of his stomach. Cancer sucks.

Should I be this angry?

2009-05-03T11:31:00.004-05:00

A couple of years ago, I really wanted a dog, and the ex-Mr. Sarah K did not. So I did what I always do. Made a spontaneous decision while he was out of town. I went to the Humane Society and adopted a lovely Keeshound. I didn't realize at the time he had slight psychological issues, but I'm attracted to that type, so whatever. The ex wasn't happy at first, but he grew to love him. When we separated, the ex got Jake, the dog. Last night I received a disturbing email. The evidence is as follows. Before and after pictures.

I can't tell you how upset I am. I like fluffy things as well. That is probably another reason I adopted the little nut case. Should I be this upset? He's not mine anymore, but COME ON!!!

Randumb

2009-04-30T19:45:00.002-05:00

I really have nothing to say. Just feel as though I need to end the month with a blog. It seems that a lot of people are in a weird funk. Co-workers, facebook friends, bloggie friends. Not sure about my family. My sister keeps trying to get a hold of me (baby bro is graduating in June!), and I haven't been in the mood to talk. I have about 25 voicemails on my cellphone. I don't listen to messages. Most people who call me know this. But there are some die hards out there.

I've gone to the gym twice this week. I realized the guilt of not going was worse than the actual work out. Tonight I tried to read a magazine while on the treadmill. It isn't easy to jog and read. It isn't easy to jog. The worst part? The reading voice in my head was all out of breath!

I'm reading 2 self help books. One has short daily entries of things to ponder, broken down into 52 weeks. I'm using the receipt as a bookmark, so maybe I can look back in a year and see if I learned anything, or if the receipt is stuck between pages 12-13. I'm just looking for some focus.

I'd really like it if the Ex-Mr. Sarah K would send the papers that say I can legally change my last name...or get married again. You never know...Speaking of the ex and my last name...he messed up our taxes for the second year in a row. He put my legal last name down wrong. I specifically did not want to change my last name when we married. He pouted, I hyphenated. So the fact that he can't put my correct, legal last name down just irritates me. It's just one last thing to let go of, to be finally back to being me. Singular. Break ups suck.

Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of my cousin's death by motorcycle. He was 29. That sucked.

I'm writing this blog to avoid doing dishes.

I told my friend that I would think about joining Roller Derby. I hope she was too sauced to remember me saying that. I don't care if they train you. I'm delicate. But knocking down chicks after a long work week? Could be theraputic.

Went to a Mary Kay party last night. A co-worker started schlepping it, so we did the nice thing and supported her. Six bottles of cheap, sweet "wines" and 4 hours of laughing non-stop later, I gave her too much of my money. I better be pretty, dammit.

One last thought to leave you with: I got a lovely note from one of my oldest friends today. "Thanks for being you, even when I'm not being me." I know what that's like. Been there....I have my own zip code and everything.

Tears of Joy

2009-04-21T21:37:00.003-05:00

I went to my favorite place on earth tonight, the facial spa. As soon as you walk into the building, you can smell the lemongrass aromatherapy. The ND Congressman has his office on the first level, and I always feel as though I should bless myself as I pass the State seal on the way upstairs. Odd, I know.

Tonight's appointment was lash tinting. I got to lie down on the comfy table/bed thing, inhale the various soothing scents they pipe in, and listen to the relaxing music. Too bad I'm always tense and wondering about what the tech thinks of my socks.

She slathered petroleum jelly under my eyes, then placed cotton strips on top of the that. Then she smeared on the tint. Kinda felt like a twelve year old slathering on liquid eyeliner. She waited a few minutes for it to dry, then wiped off the petroleum, and then the water works started. HOLY SHIT. An acid peel I can handle. But my eyes? Holy crap. She handed me a mirror so I could see the results, but I could barely open my eyes. "Well, I can tell you they look great! And you won't go blind!" Um...thanks....I had to sit in the lobby for a few minutes to let the tears clean out the poison.

Then I went to the grocery store even though I looked like, well, I had been crying. Hard. I bought a new room spray. No, nothing remotely close to lemongrass....but it makes the litter box smell nice.

The results?? Well, my lashes were dark to begin with. So now they just look darker. Maybe I should've opted for the sample laser hair removal on my big toes?

photo: deborah anderson photography

Letters from the Front: Saturday, Sunday

2009-04-20T17:43:00.004-05:00

THE INFAMOUS "STUFFED ANIMALS IN THE TRUNK"

Well, after a few near death/driving related experiences, we are home safe, alive, but exhausted, from Marcy's Little People District 9 convention. Who knew Iowa would make Marcy forget to honor Stop signs and red arrows?? Or make her go temporarily deaf at the very moment I start yelling "STOP STOP STOP." MARCY: "I didn't even see that Stop sign!" ME: "Which one? The one on the left, or the one on the right? There are only two at this intersection."

DO THESE GLASSES MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?

Clear Lake, Iowa is famous for one thing: The Day the Music Died, February 3, 1959. Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valenz, and The Big Bopper were on their way to Moorhead, Minnesota (across the flooding river from Fargo) when their plane went down in a corn field. We drove out the sight, but you have to walk a half mile in the field to reach the marker. It was nice that people had left poems and devotions from the era. What sucked was the random trash people left, also.

I had a good time at the convention, and maybe Marcy will bring me back to more. (Probably not after reading this blog) I met a lot of nice people. No one was selling mini-collapsible stools at this one, so that leaves us with 2 options for my Ford Escape: I'll either have to look into installing running boards for her, or I'll get one of those fire escape rope ladders for her to climb up into my car. Or I could keep pulling her up into it. It really wears me out, but what are friends for? (she's so gonna kill me...)

"HEY, MARCY! GO SEE IF THAT FENCE IS ELECTRIC"

ANTHONY (I NEVER ASKED ABOUT THE VOO DOO)

We went to the Harley store, and there was this trashy looking bum who could've used a shower like, 3 weeks ago, sitting on his bike in the parking lot. He saw Marcy's North Dakota plates and informed us that there are so many Norwegians in ND, they are thinking of changing the name to "Norske Dakota". Hahahahahhhh....yeah.

Letters from the Front: Friday

2009-04-18T09:14:00.003-05:00

You all love Marcy, right? I'm with her all weekend at her LPA district conference, in another armpit town, Clear Lake, IA. (Iowa is boring, dude.) I was too tired to blog last night (her driving wears me out, and it was about 6 hours of it), so I'm writing now while she's at her meeting. Learning about....stuff. And planning where next fall's meeting will be.

Marcy was very excited about this conference. I called her yesterday morning to tell her I was leaving work and would be at her apartment soon. "OK, I'm in my car in the parking lot, waiting." Um..ok....let's hope I hit all green lights...

I start loading my stuff into her trunk, and see about 5 stuffed animals in there. (I'd insert the pic here, but my camera is officially MIA. Karma's a beotch) ME: "What are these?" MARCY: "Thooose aaare....stuffed animals." ME: "Yes.....but why are they in your TRUNK?" MARCY: "I can't bear to part with them, but I don't want them in my apartment." ME: "OOOOhhh...we've just found blog material #1!! PHOTO OPP!!" (and that's where it all gets hazy. not sure where I put the camera after I took my exploitation opportunity)

The drive down was OK. She has a tendency to look at me while I'm talking to her, while she's driving. I have a tendency to look at the road while she's looking at me. And then I freak out when the car veers to the left. It's always to the left. *shudder*

We met up with the other district members for dinner. I was surprised to see the variety of people here. Children, adults, lots of different types of dwarfism. I guess I thought they'd all look like Marcy, and her friend Anthony.

Anthony offended me within 10 seconds of meeting him. ANTHONY: "You're from FARGO?" ME: "Yes." ANTHONY: "You SOUND like you're from Fargo!" ME: (what the..??) ANTHONY: "Were you in the movie?" ME: "Yes, I had a bit part." (Why I didn't come back with "Do you know the Roloffs from TLC's Little People, Big World??" Little People loooove it when you ask them that question. *sarcism*)

Anthony told us about his mission trip to Haiti. He totally lit up while talking about the good they did for the community, building a church, impromptu services, etc. He said the people practice Catholicism , Voo Doo, and Witchcraft. I didn't know if it was acceptable to ask a hard core Christian about Voo Doo and Witchcraft, but I really really wanted to!! "Like with chickens, and stuff??"

And that brings us to this morning. Marcy is notorious for sleeping until noon on the weekends, so I was planning on waking her up for her morning meeting. At some point, her sleepy breathing stopped, and the room was really quiet. She actually got up on her own, and I was happy I didn't have to poke the bear. MARCY: "Yeah, I've been awake for awhile." ME: "Well, I figured when I didn't hear you breathing, you were either dead or awake." MARCY: "Thanks a lot!! That's going on my facebook...."

"Yes, I'm from Fargo.....

2009-04-15T17:00:00.001-05:00

……yeah, like the movie.” I didn’t always answer that way. I was living in Chicago when it started. The first few times I heard the questions: “You’re from Fargo? Like the movie?” I was offended, taken aback. No! Not like the movie!! It’s a movie filmed in Minneapolis. People don’t really talk like that! OK, they do. That’s not the point. At first I would try to explain the differences. After feeling bad from seeing the disappointment on their faces, I started to answer, “Yeah, like the movie.” People seemed to like that answer better. I became a novelty in their eyes. The way a Fargoan would look at a person from exotic California. I knew they would go out into the world and tell their friends and family that they had met a real person from Fargo, like the movie.

I don’t mind Fargo so much. It’s normal, almost wholesome. People are simple and friendly for the most part. Not everyone talks with long O’s. I get irritated when I watch the news and the only people they interview have the worst North Dakota accents. Where do they find these people? Wait. I was interviewed on the local news. Oh, crap. If anyone reading this saw me, please let me know if I talked like a local, OK?

Something else that entertained my Chicago neighbors was when I would unknowingly say “Uff Da”. I always figured out quickly that I had said it when the person next to me would give me a confused, quizzical look. I can’t help it, it just comes out. I once explained it’s definition to someone as the Norwegian “Oy Vey”. They readily accepted it, and I was off the hook. I met a man who had lived in Norway for a few years. I asked him if Norwegians said Uff Da. “No, not really. Not the younger people anyway. You might hear someone older say ‘Uff‘”. Great. So I’m uncool on two continents. I could never live down the way I said “hamm-ock”, though. I still don’t know the proper way to pronounce it. Do you say it fast? “Hammick”? I know it isn’t two words. I just don’t know how to sound normal when I say it. You can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the hamm-ock out when it’s -32 below……

Run for the border

2009-04-11T20:17:00.007-05:00

What do you get when you pile 6 giggly overgrown teenage women in a mini-van with a stack of birth certificates, one passport, lots of perfumes, and even more alcohol? A very annoyed Border Patrol Officer that asks too many questions. "Where are you going? What will you be doing there? How do you know each other? How much alcohol do you have? When was the last time you visited Canada?" Why Denise felt the need to elaborate and tell the young officer we were going to see The New Kids on the Block in concert, is beyond me. She told the officer on the way back, too. Seriously!

Yes, we saw NKOTB in concert. AGAIN. But the last time was in 2008 in St. Paul, MN. This is 2009, and we went to Winnipeg, Manitoba. CANADA. It doesn't count if it's a different year and country and currency, right?

One of the highlights from the last concert was when Bobby and I ordered Gin and Tonics. Kelley: "Is there vodka in that?" This time around, they had hard liquor at the concert. Kelley brought me a drink, and after I finished it, (ten minutes later) I told her it was the worst Gin and Tonic I had ever tasted. "It was a Vodka Tonic", she replied. Of course it was....We had GREAT seats this time! Two rows up from the floor. The boys came down to a secondary stage in the middle of the venue, and sang a few songs. And then, as they walked up the aisle to go back to the main stage, we reached our hands out, and Kelley and Cori were touched by Jordan and Jonathan! Yes. You'd think the hand of God reached out and anointed them. Our hotel was next door to the convention centre (Canadian), and a few doors down from the hotel was an odd book store of sorts. Kelley and I swear Jonathan was standing in front of that bookstore having a smoke. No one believes us. We think they sold gay publications, and well....he's totally gay. But I digress.

Cori and Bobby didn't bring jackets. Apparently they thought the farther north you go in North America, the warmer it gets. Or Canadian springs are more mild than in North Dakota? One degree celcius translates to cold. (If Bilby actually gets this far in the blog, and I didn't lose him at NKOTB, he'll know.)

Hm...other Canadian observations...If you've never had Poutine, french fries with gravy and cheese (melted or curds), you have not lived my friend! Holy crap. Speaking of, almost everything shuts down on Good Friday. (Holy day, everything shuts down, total crap that you can't drink without ordering a full meal) We drove all around, looking for something to do. Ended up at Shoppers Drug Mart.

Winnipeg was an armpit, to me. They have wonderful festivals and cultural events during the summer, however. I want to visit again and at least experience that. (Passports are required as of June 2nd.) But I wasn't impressed with the city itself. I expected everyone to speak with heavy Canadian accents. Nope. One of our waiters was from Duluth, MN. People seemed more European, however. Dark haired, dark clothing. I want to visit Montreal. Apparently there is a store dedicated to Poutine in Montreal!

The fields were extremely flooded! Normally when you are driving on the highway, it's flat farmland as far as the eye can see. It looked like a lake on either side of us. The water was on the shoulder in one area. (That's what this photo is showing. That and Bobby's chest. We stopped in the middle of the road to take pics) The flat lands continued across the border, also. I don't know what I was expecting. It was all so Amercian. Except for Poutine. God bless Poutine.

Apartment Therapy

2009-04-08T19:58:00.001-05:00

Yes, I have a degree in Interior Design. Yes, I work at a service center for a bank. Let's not get into it. The extent of my design work is my digs, and spending friends' and family money while shopping. "OH, that would look perfect in your bathroom! No, not that. That's ugly. The other thing." I follow a few design blogs (decor porn, to me), and got some inspiration to photoshop pics of my place. It looks much better photoshopped. (The cat hair has been airbrushed out.) My apartment was built in 1935, original Linoleum, hardwoods, original toilet, cast iron sink, metal kitchen cabinets in near mint condition, light fixtures, etc, etc.

LIVING ROOM: Blogging central and "studio"

KITCHEN: Drippy faucet and lots of empty wine bottles

Metal cabinets: Once a flour bin and fridge

BATHROOM: Mostly soap scum and cat litter

BOUDOIR: Mostly cat hair

Reasons for cat hair:

I'M IN LOVE WITH :::HOMEBODIES::: (Voyeurism, I'm sure) Great concept, Liz!
{LUPHIA LOVES....} She is just too cute
The Paris Apartment (Need I say more?)
Laissezfaire Interesting, quirky, inspirational photos and blogs
A Field Journal Pretty photos for inspiration. Her blog is like...cupcakes!
Poetic Home Cool name, cool stuff
Apartment Therapy 'cuz I borrowed their name
Picnik Free and fun photo editing

You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing

2009-04-03T19:13:00.003-05:00

Who doesn't love a good facebook quiz?? Of course I succumbed and took the "Which Crazy Bitch are You?" quiz. The answer was Sylvia Plath. I don't know anything about her, other than the oven mystique. I have not read up on her bio on Wikipedia (a.k.a. the dummy's cliff notes to just about everything). I guess she spent her honeymoon sketching. I spent mine plotting my divorce, and finding my first grey hairs. *sigh* Anyhoo..here are the results:

You are one intense bitch. You are almost abnormally introspective but this is where your abundant creativity flows from. You love handsome, brilliant, creative genius types but you pay the price when their egos and lustful ways cause them to betray you. You are a very intelligent, classy lady with a black streak and can be very emotional at times. You do have a bit of a morbid side but your words often lead you to be misunderstood as a dark figure but that is just how you protect your soft mushy insides.

Feel free to share your results in the "Whatchu Talkin' Bout, Willis?" comments. Oh, and I took the "How Sarcastic are You?" quiz. I think my polite midwestern ways got the best of me. Only "slightly above average" was the result. You can't always be a crazy bitch......

Flizzard

2009-03-28T18:35:00.006-05:00

Who else has 8 inches of snow on top of a flood? NORTH DAKOTA. Because what doesn't kill us makes us go insane, slowly. Here are some things I've learned while sandbagging (3 million bags in 7 days) to save the world:

Sand is a great exfoliator. Just not for the inside of your nose, mouth or eyes
Sand dust and diesel fumes can make you giddy if you inhale them long enough. But so can a hot NYC man from the Wall Street Journal.com when he interviews you. (Blogger note: no matter what the disaster is, you should always look your best. The national news always shows up. The day you wear a hat and look like shit is the day you are on camera)
Speaking of hot...The National Guard boys and the Fargo Fire Dept. boys were a nice diversion. Mother: "You should go talk to him. Or him. Me: "Umm....I think they have other priorities right now." Mother: "Now is the perfect time! This is your in! You have something to talk about!" (I need a flood as a conversation starter? I don't think she reads my blog)
Midwesterners are very concerned about feeding you. I think I gained five pounds from all the free food at the dome. Shoveling sand and lugging sandbags for five days did nothing to help me lose weight
I have no patience for stupid people. Nicole: "I wonder where (in the dome) Sarah is?" Bobby: "I don't know...just listen for her yelling at sandbaggers."
Midwesterners are very concerned about feeding you. "The Red Cross announced they have the situation under control, and do not need any donations." Some guy called the local AM radio station to tell us he had 1,5000 sandwiches made and needed someone to come pick them up. LOL
Every sandbag I filled or threw at some stupid giggly college girl who's make up was perfect, made me feel as though I was helping prevent someone's home from flooding
Every sandbag I tied, I thought, "What if this is the bag that leaks and floods someone's home?"
We're all in this together. (But if someone comes to sandbag your home, get your ass out there and offer them food, a bathroom, heat, gratitude, etc. Don't stand around and watch)
Style and disasters are cyclical. All week I wore my souvenir t-shirt from the flood of '97. "Fargo: Where the beach comes in a bag!"
My family and I are supposed to go to Orlando in June. I hope I don't have a "flood of memories" while at the beach

There is a street and the river behind that dike. The water came about 12 inches from the sidewalk about a block to the right from here, where a bridge to Minnesota starts, that I drove on, and took pictures, while driving...blog research is dangerous, people!

I think the green galoshes gave me more street cred. And what post is complete without Gatsby?

It was just announced at 7PM that sandbagging will resume tomorrow at the dome, at 8AM. Shoulders all over the area just dropped, and sighs and groans could be heard in Canada. We filled 3/4 of the Fargo Dome with pallets. It was like an ant farm in there. We're so tired. But there will be free food....

Withering Heights

2009-03-17T12:14:00.000-05:00

Yeah, yeah...the title is obvious. Deal with it.

The photo you see is a plant hanging in my kitchen, over the microwave, near a window. I have a brown thumb and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

I know what you're thinking. "Doesn't she go into her kitchen or use her microwave?" Helloooo....that's where I stock the gin! Besides, this is the 21st century. You can't make popcorn without a microwave. I have no excuse. This is the second plant to wither and die in this pot in this location. I think something is cursed or diseased or slowly being radiated by my microwave.

Sometimes, no matter how much love and kindness and sunshine and CPR we pump into things, it's just not be meant to be. Some fights just aren't worth fighting any longer. You can put a new plant in the same old soil, but if the soil isn't healthy enough to keep something else alive, you will be disappointed eventually. The soil that should be nurturing the roots of the plant just isn't strong enough at the moment, and it needs something extra to bring it back to it's healthy state. Or maybe the plant is a life sucking parasite that needs to find some other soil to use up. Yeah, that's probably it.

Considering my ability to kill plants, I'm surprised my cats have survived their incarceration with me. (Their terminology, not mine.) Maybe this plant needs a vacation? A warm, sunny destination, perhaps? I should call the airlines. See if a pot of dirt is considered a threat this month.

LOL Speak

2009-03-13T20:39:00.004-05:00

Bobby and I came up with new computer/text speak for the older generations. (29+ we'll say) The older you get, the more your body changes. A little bigger around the middle....bladder a little weaker...She said she LOL'd at my RAIN blog, and she even jiggled a little bit. Well, that made me laugh, and I realized I jiggled a little bit! (She could've been referring to her boobs, IDK.) So, instead of LOL, ROFL, etc, etc..here's the new ones:

JAL: jiggled a little

PAL: peed a little

PMP: peed my pants (only if you totally LOL'd!)

Sadness

2009-03-13T19:28:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure if anyone noticed a woman named Braja leaving a comment on my blog...She's a blogger that I've recently discovered when she "guest blogged" for a very funny woman, Vodka Mom, and she was hilarious! Her blog goes back and forth between funny and spiritual and enlightening and sarcastic. Mostly honest. Her writing is so beautiful, I envy her talent. She's living in India, and often writes about the magic that is India. Did I mention I'm jealous?

Her last post was about how she was off to Bangkok. I was looking forward to pictures and stories of her travels. Sadly, Vodka Mom posted an update. On the way to the airport, she and her husband and the taxi driver were in a very serious car accident. Her husband has not regained consciousness yet. She is also in serious condition. I don't know her, but I'm so sad over this.

I hold onto the fact that she is a woman of strong faith, and she will be determined to see herself and her husband through this. But it also makes me take stock of what I have, and I'm thankful for all of it. Even PMS Man. I will visualize a healthy recovery for all three of them. Say a quick prayer, please.

RAIN: A BEATLES TRIBUTE

2009-03-11T22:24:00.003-05:00

DISCLAIMER: This blog is merely a 33 year old's observation, and not to be confused with an actual review.

I won tickets to RAIN, a Beatles tribute band, from work. I asked my mom to go, and we had a pretty good time. Here are some observations from the show:

The audience was mostly 50+. They were pretty low key. This could be due to a number of reasons.....Age. Scandanavians are pretty reserved. We were all tired from digging out from under yesterday's blizzard. The show was scheduled for yesterday, and the poor bastards had to stay in miserable lock down Fargo for an extra night for tonight's show.
They sang and played the instruments live. Complete with British accents, mop top wigs, and costume changes to go along with the progressive eras.
"Rain" is the B-side to the single "Paperback Writer".
They did not sing the theme song to the show "Life Goes On". Yeah, remember Corky? I love that song.
When they sang "When I'm 64" (or whatever it's called) I turned to my mom and said, "He turned 64, this year, or last...?" She kept saying "Sixty....Sixty". She thought I was referring to her soon to be age. She's apparently going deaf in her old age.
There were screens on either side of the stage, and one on stage. They played vintage footage of the Beatles, and scenes from the era. The screaming, fainting girls reminded me of the New Kids on the Block concert we went to in September. After that concert, I said, "OK, now I understand Beatle Mania". That's why we're going again in April. (squeal)
They were good, but no NKOTB. I didn't lose my voice after this concert.
When it seemed like the show was nearly over, they walked off the stage, the lights were dim, and people were clapping and yelling. The old woman next to me started stomping her foot. Before I knew it, people all around us were stomping their feet, wanting more.
Alcohol was only $5.
Tshirts were $30.
Fake John Lennon sang "Imagine". It was a great moment. The old lady next to me pulled out her cellphone and was waving it in the air. The new millennium's version of holding up a lighter.
I nearly peed my pants at the NKOTB concert, as well as this one. This time it was due to too much beer and waiting for intermission.
The old lady next me...yeah...my mom.

I do love the music of the Beatles. I took a few things away from the show: There were lots of teenagers there, and I realized their music transcends time and speaks to all generations. You can want to be loved, but it might be better to want someone to love. I get by with a little help from my friends. And all we're saying?...yeah...give peace a chance. Oh, and my mom may be nearly 60, but she can still rock. Unfortunately.

Holy Blizzard, Batman

2009-03-10T10:36:00.005-05:00

They're not kidding this time. Usually, I tell people not to believe what they hear on the news. "No, we're not buried in 20 inches of snow...no, it's not -90 below....I don't know why they said that...Probably have the wrong zip code locked into their radar. Yeah, I think they have the North Pole, not North DAKOTA...yeah, a TYPO." But this time...it's for reals...until it changes, of course. Because as we say here up north, "Don't like the weather? Wait 15 minutes."

Today of all days, I turned in my "Crunch Mobile" to have it fixed. (Got rear ended a week ago, because do to the economic crisis, Fargo apparently can't afford gravel on the ice rink we call streets.) I was given a "Toy Car" (Kia Spectra) to drive for the rest of the week. Of all the days to trade in four wheel drive....Got a call from Marcy on my way to the collision center. The spoiled brat who has underground parking had been stuck in her driveway for an HOUR, and she was slowly running out of gas. In a monotone voice she said, "This isn't how I was meant to die. I know it." We made it to work, but the conditions were getting worse by the half hour. Then, tragedy struck. What is the ONE thing that means the weather is BAD? The mall closed.

I called Kelley on the way home, to tell her not to come in. I was greeted with, "You woke me up out of a lovely dream. I had stolen someone's credit card." As I headed home in my clown car, white knuckled in near white out conditions, I thought of all the wrong things: I wonder if the pizza/chinese places are delivering? Maybe I should stop at the grocery store? No, I'd feel bad for the people trapped there. But they have food, at least...I wonder if the liquor stores are open? I'm out of wine...crap.

Don't just stand there, looking pretty...Get shoveling!

"Death Wish Kitty" starring: Gatsby

2009-03-09T20:00:00.000-05:00

My cat, Gatsby, apparently has 9 lives. If the Humane Society had known at the time of his adoption that while in my care, this cat would “jail break” countless times in our various neighborhoods, unknowingly get locked in numerous closets and cabinets, almost suffocate under a plastic tarp (Jill found him with his little faced pressed against the plastic, eyes wide with fear, gasping his last dying breath….), and set himself on fire three times, they never would’ve let me take him home.

I adopted Gatsby from the Chicago Humane Society. I went there hoping to find a purse-breed dog…you know the kind….fits in your purse? More accessory than animal? Jill, my roomie, and I were perusing the cat department, oohing and aahhing over the friendly cats that were rubbing up against their cages, meowing, begging us to take them home, when I saw him. On the top shelf, of course. He was sitting in his cage, glaring at everyone with disdain. I’m a sucker for the mysterious, brooding, pouty types. He was black and fluffy and beautiful, so I asked if I could hold him. As soon as he was in my lap, he became a loving, rubbing, purring machine. There was a gay couple off to the side, mindlessly stroking a domestic short hair, but they had their eyes on Gatsby. Another couple walked over to his cage, and I heard the girl say, “He was up there. I don’t know where he went.” I suddenly went into “garage sale mode”. You know when you’re holding some random object that’s for sale, and you’re not sure if you want it or not? As soon as you see someone eyeballing you, waiting for you to put it down, you realize you’re probably holding on to the next best thing to the Holy Grail and dammit all to hell if someone else is gonna get it! Yeah. It was like that. A volunteer for the shelter walked by and I heard someone say “Excuse me, I’d like to take him.” Crap. Crap, crap, crap! That voice I heard was my own! I even had my hand in the air, just so he would know it was me claiming my prize, and not one of the gay guys! So my fluffy baby got neutered and named Gatsby, and came home a few days later. Instant parenthood. Crap.

The first (and third) time he set himself on fire we didn’t see it happen. There was a funky smell in the air, and a candle burning on the coffee table. Gatsby often enjoyed parading himself around on the coffee table for our benefit. He jumped up on table, next to the candle, and I freaked. “You’ll set yourself on fire!” I said. Then I realized he had already done that, about an hour earlier. The funky smell was burnt fur, and he had the singed tail hair to prove it. We didn’t learn, obviously. I thought I was being smart by putting a lit candle on the end table, one day. He never jumped on the end table. Unless of course there happened to be an open flame. Damn cat. His tail went up in flames in a second. Had this been a cartoon, “POOF!” would’ve flashed across the screen. I screamed, grabbed a toss pillow off the sofa, and starting running down the hall after him. With two flicks of his tail, the fire was out. His fluffy marabou boa of a tail was thinned and patchy, but at least he survived.

I was given two votive candle holders as a Christmas gift a few years ago. The giver included two battery operated tea light “candles”. Your cat sets himself on fire three times, and suddenly you’re not trusted with real candles?! I know it was three times because the signs were all there that day. #1: open flame #2: funky smell #3: Gatsby was M.I.A

(the picture above is him next to a HOT iron. damn cat)

Princess Writer

2009-03-07T21:34:00.003-06:00

Hellooo, sassy readers! It is I, Gatsby! I couldn't let my red headed step brother, Tigger, get all the fame of ghost writing! Mommy is passed out after drinking a bottle of wine (apparently there was a big sale at Empire Liquors cuz the girl stocked up), so I've taken over for the night. This will be short. I have some grooming and a nap to attend to. Did I mention how fluffy I am?

Anyhoo...the bitch left me this afternoon to have lunch with Kelley. I think she got tired of me climbing on top of her, and head butting her from the back of the couch. It was my way of trying to get her off her phat ass and find the hairballs I've hidden throughout. They went to the Olive Garden, and it was craaaazy busy! They waited for 30 minutes for a table, and when they walked to their table, Mommy Dearest had survivor's guilt. The antsy patrons watched them with hunger in their eyes. Mixed with jealousy. Hmmm...Survivor's guilt. Like when your co-worker gets the ax from the nation's 6th largest bank, and you didn't. Yeah, like that. But Mommy had a martini and dessert, and said something about "if you're going down, you might as well go down in flames". I love flames! Not only am I psuedo gay, but I've been set on fire multiple times. Stay tuned for my biography!!

Then Mommy picked up Crazy Marcy for a shopping trip to Tarjay Boutique. I loooove Marcy. She knows how to pet a sassy boy like me. Marcy likes to give Mommy material for her blogs. Last week, on their way to IHELL (IHOP, worst experience EVER), Marcy said, "A guy would be lucky to date me. I'm a cheap date. I chose cheap meals." Or something to that effect. She can correct me later. I think Marcy is with PMS Man tonight. He's another blog entirely.

When Mommy Dearest came home with kibble, wet food (loooooove the wet stuff!), and a new toy, she was shown our appreciation with two vomit patches on her rugs! Mommy swears when she finds kitty vomit. It's quite amusing. Tigger and I prefer the carpet to tile when we puke.

OK, readers...I'm bored with you. I hear the girl across the hall coming home. I need to go look pretty and strut my stuff in front of our door. It's what I do well. She can't see me, but I act sexy and rub against the door and throw myself on the floor and show my belly in case she has Xray vision and comes to rescue me anyway.

Ghost Writer

2009-03-05T21:28:00.004-06:00

Mommy is taking some time out this week due to "mass firings" on Wednesday at that place she calls "work". She took a generic sleepy time ibuprofen, and let me, Tigger, write this blog.

Mommy has had a headache since Wednesday at noon when something about shit hitting a fan? She said me and my brother may or may not have to eat something called Ramen Noodles the last two weeks of every month. I don't know what that means. But it's ok if tastes like the spaghetti she made tonight! I LOVED it. She left her plate on the end table, so I helped myself as soon as she turned her head. Then, due to her weakened condition, she put the plate on the floor so I could lick the tomato sauce that was left! Such a nice mommy. I didn't even throw it up on the overpriced wool rugs! Maybe tomorrow I'll let her sleep past 6AM?? I don't want her to be fired, so I'll make sure I wake her up around 5:30AM. Yeah, that sounds good. Anyway, here's a picture of my stoopid brother, Gatsby, taking a nap in the most ridiculous and randumb spot in the house.

CrackHead in the Kitchen

2009-03-01T09:56:00.025-06:00

A blog I shamelessly cyberstalk is "Angel in the Kitchen". Her recipes are like food porn to me. I consider almost all of them to be comfort foods, simple to make, and all look delicious. Every time she posts a new recipe, I want to make it! Veruca Salt decided she wanted me to make the Oatmeal Chip Bars. You don't argue with Veruca. (Plan ahead if you want to make these: You need 2 sticks of artery clogging softened butter, and 2 eggs at room temp.) OK- I think I'm done with the hyperlinks now. If you made it back to this blog, thank you, and congratulations.

Step 1: Clean the kitchen. "^*&%$$#@^!!"

Step 2: Tell the kids to stay back at least 4 feet. (I can never get them to pose together and both look at the camera. Brats.)

Step 3: Make it, bake it, shake it. I use an Easy Bake Oven, but a full size oven works, also.

Step 4: Repeat Step 1, Clean the kitchen. "^*&%$$#@^!!" (The maid has the weekends off, and she's been harassing me to buy the Easy Clean Dishwasher)

Step 5: Try not to eat the entire pan yourself. Pack some extra in the kids' lunchboxes to share!

**Blogger Research Note: I used a combination of semi-sweet choc chips, and milk choc/peanut butter swirl chips. I don't know if you could add peanut butter to the recipe? That would be awesome! The bars will be gooey, so don't over bake them, thinking they aren't cooked. Like I did. And use fresh butter. Mine wasn't so fresh. But the co-workers will eat anything, so it's all good.

For me??

2009-02-28T17:30:00.005-06:00

Someone wrote a song for me and PMS Man! No one called to interview me or anything! There it was, on the radio one day. That pop(tart) star Katy Perry was singin' it, and I think she captured the essence of my resentment. The song pretty much sums up the situation. The first two lines are dedicated to me, but the rest is all him.

"Hot N Cold"

You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
Yeah you, PMS
Like a bitch
I would know

And you always think
Always speak
Cryptically

I should know
That you're no good for me

Cause you're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in then you're out
You're up then you're down
You're wrong when it's right
It's black and it's white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up
(you) You don't really want to stay, no
(but you) But you don't really want to go-o
You're hot then you're cold
You're yes then you're no
You're in and you're out
You're up and you're down

We used to be
Just like twins
So in sync
The same energy
Now's a dead battery
Used to laugh bout nothing
Now your plain boring

I should know that
You're not gonna change

Someone call the doctor
Got a case of a love bi-polar
Stuck on a roller coaster
Can't get off this ride

"Heeey, Bay-bee"

2009-02-27T10:37:00.005-06:00

My cat, Gatsby, is a shameless attention whore. I often have to share my lap with the laptop and him. He'll sit on the coffee table and stare at me, sending silent messages of "pet me, bitch". He usually just crawls onto my lap, purring all sexy like, trying to get me in the mood. It's like your mate trying to get you in the mood and you are just not interested. I push him off, "Noooo, Gatsby! I don't want to snuggle!" He nudges my typing hands...I pet him...it only encourages the brat. The purring continues, the sexy eyes burn into me. He steps on my belly. With the extra padding, you'd think it wouldn't hurt as much as it can. I almost always give in. Sometimes it helps to put the "Barry White Station" on Pandora. So I give him his lovin, he purrs, and when he's satisfied, he rolls off me. He usually then strolls into the kitchen for a snack of kibble. Just like a man.

(At least he only leaves hair in that spot)

Is it just me?

2009-02-26T23:00:00.005-06:00

I don't get most people's blogs. I try to read them, I really do. They bore me quickly. I then skim down further to see if the blogs get any better. Usually they don't. I often worry that I bore my blog followers. This one is starting to drone already, and I'm writing it!

I tried reading Queen Martha Stewart's blog. They read like a history lesson on whatever the hell she's blogging about. I imagine some slave of her's Googling info, emailing it to her, she cuts and pastes, adds her own flourish (the first and last sentences) and viola! Instant blog!

Martha gave a run down on one of her fave seafood joints and went into crabs or whatever (I quit reading when the Google regurgitation started). Oh, yeah, Martha? Well, Marcy and I had our own little seafood adventure. She tried sushi for the first time, and I didn't even tell her the orange stuff on the sushi was masago: fish eggs!! (This is a test, to see if she actually finds this blog and reads it.)

Of course I read my friend's blogs, and the food blogs are great. (Pictures to hold my interest) If only everyone could put something shiny in the paragraphs every so often, I'd be more likely to read them.

I smell funny

2009-02-25T10:31:00.002-06:00

I just had my first real facial at a fancy pants spa. Soooo nice! I recommend it to anyone! Pay extra for a longer one, too. I'm sure it will be worth it.

My mom bought me a package deal at a facial/laser skin clinic for Christmas. We all know my skin has seen better days (pre-puberty), so I was really excited for my first appointment today. Of course my mind is over active, so the whole time I was taking notes for this damn blog. So here's the low-down on my experience:

Drug myself out of bed around 8am, groggy from soaking myself in beer and second hand smoke from last night. (Two things that are bad for the skin. But I wanted to give her more of a challenge.) Stumbled into the mod-ern suite, and practically hugged the girl when she offered me freshly brewed coffee. (Also bad for the skin, those hypocrites.) It smelled delicious in there! Aromatherapy just might catch on....Enya was playing, and the coffee was struggling to keep up. My skin care specialist came out, and gave me soft hand shake. I don't like those, but neccessary to share that tidbit. I went into a darkened room that also smelled great, and had to remove my shirt (Yes, Kelley and Marcy-I was given a towel as a cover-up) and removed my shoes. I laid back on a comfy table, but my head was lower than my legs, so the blood was going to eventually pool into my brain. She put the sheet around me to keep warm, and I internally cursed my choice in the sock with a hole in the big toe area. She started slathering on luscious creams that alternated smelled fruity, and earthy and naturual. It's possible I was getting the left over breakfast from the Country Kitchen from across the street put on my face, but I didn't care. Then she started with the shoulder and back massage. Miss Soft Handshake was such a tease in the lobby! That petite girl has some strength! She used a minty/warming lotion for that. (Tigger loves mint, and is molesting my sweatshirt as I type this.) I was trying to stay relaxed, but it seems like a natural reaction for your muscles to tense as they are being pushed by a stranger. She started kneading my neck, and it wasn't great, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She did massage my face, but it wasn't long enough. I could've used a sinus draining massage. Gross, I know.

I know why they do the facial before the skin analysis. You're all blissed out, and can handle seeing your pores and flaws magnified 200% much easier. She took a picture of my skin, and then went over the bumps, flaws, wrinkles, pores, damages, etc. That sucked. But it's easier for them to sell a package of 6 microderm/laser treatments for $700 when they show you the ugly truth, up close and personal. I really did pay attention to everything she said....but I was also paying attention to her face. Her pores weren't so small, even though she had just given herself a peel the day before. Her lips were full, but not too fake looking (injections, I'm sure). But her eyebrows moved, so no Botox recently. When you work in retail, you tend to buy things often. I couldn't imagine working in a spa, or plastic surgery office. I'd have no skin left from the peels, and would always look surprised from Botox and surgeries. Anyway....I only had one little wrinkle by my eye. Yay for small victories. I did want to cry when she told me all the sun damage I was seeing would eventually come to the surface. I'll stock up on the make up. I almost asked her to email me a screen shot of my analysis so I could share it with all of you, but I didn't think she'd understand my "blog research" reasoning.

I went back out to the lobby to reschedule my future appointments, AKA future blog research (wish I could write them off), and a client walked in. There I was, no make up, face red and inflamed, hair possibly gooey from yesterday's oatmeal, feeling exposed. Then another client and her fake skin doctor came out and stood behind me, and then another client, a man (!) came in. OOOhh...that was uncomfortable. I was supposed to get a complimentary "Mineral Glo Make Up Touch Up" as a part of the package, but I didn't. I would like to suggest they do that in the skin analyisis/crying room. I was going to ask for it, but I all I really wanted to do was go home and shower again. My face feels thick from the Early Bird special, and I smell like the Ben-Gay wearing patrons from the Country Kitchen.

One of my future appointments was to be either lash tinting, or trial laser hair removal. I opted for the lash tinting. I thought I'd get more out of that than a tease of hair removal. I'd just want my uni-brow zapped, anyway. I figured I'll be investing a lot in the microderm/peels over the next few months, and didn't need to get sucked into hair removal. Even though "Fun with lasers" would've been an interesting blog.

re juv skin & laser clinic 701-356-skin Tell them I sent you... or call a Cosmetology school and get a cheap facial. I know I will!

Totally Randumb

2009-02-22T21:57:00.003-06:00

It's been a slow weekend for blog material. You can all blame Marcy. I took her for her first sushi experience, and it was completely NORMAL. She totally let me down. She didn't use chop stix, unfortunately. She did enjoy the sushi, so that was good. We were getting ready to leave, and she smiled at waived at someone behind me, and I thought she saw someone she knew. Nope. The chef was smiling and waiving excitedly at her. She's a celeb. What can I say?

Even my parents didn't give me any good material. We went out to dinner and then drinks with friends. They're usually good for some embarrassment. (The parents, not Kelley and Bobbi.) They did play pool at TGIFriday's, and the waiter was kind enough to mention it.

What I have been doing is following Twitter all weekend. I'm fascinated by it! I'm following Neil Patrick Harris, Martha Stewart, Britney Spears, and Paula Poundstone, to name a few. (It's not really stalking if they supply the info, right?) NPH was apparently hangin with Phelps. Woke up in a back alley in Shang Hai. Those crazy kids! I can't understand MC Hammer's tweets. Now I'm getting real time Oscar updates thanks to Variety Magazine. I have nine followers, thank you very much. I feel as though Hammer, and Jorge, and Yashar, and Obama and I are finally connecting and sharing on a whole new level...I never knew what I was missing until now. Yes, the president is following ME. I should tell him my ideas on how to solve the AIDS epidemic in Africa. (Whatever Bono says) Now I feel pressure to not only come up with blog material, but news to share on Twitter! Life is rough.

Enquiring Minds

2009-02-21T01:24:00.008-06:00

I don't get it. I finally Googled Twitter, and figured out what it was. So I joined tonight. I do it all for blog research, people! I don't get it! I guess I've been "assigned" to follow MC Hammer, NY Times, and some chick named Justine, just to name a few. Just so you know, Justine is having some bittersweet feelings about eating a delicious cheeseburger, and Hammer was in a plane three hours ago, and was looking forward to "Nap Time". Whaaa?? It's like an endless stream of facebook updates. Of people I don't know! I scraped my email address book. Besides Bobbi, my peeps ain't on there. (She likes to network.)

MySpace, facebook, twitter, etc etc. Phone calls, email and texting wasn't good enough? Now we need to be adverts and publish our lives on the internet? I'm no better. I freakin blog, people. The thing is, no one cares that it's 1:40AM, I'm drinking beer, watching "The Dark Knight" and planning on eating a bowl of all natural cinnamon crunchy cereal when I feel this blog is complete.

Heath Ledger is unbelievably good in the movie, I must say.

Barbie

2009-02-16T22:29:00.007-06:00

That bitch has everything. *sigh* And now she has a fashion show dedicated to her! 50 designers created Barbie inspired fashions for a show this Valentine's Day. (Barbie turns 50 this year.) And she's never looked sluttier. I like to think of the progression of Barbie. The originals were so wholesome. Then they got a little more sophisticated. Now they are just outrageous. But at least there are more ethnicities to chose from. And more career minded Barbies. Who says you can't look like a hussy and be a doctor? If you're going to be a feminist, you can't discriminate. I learned that from Bobbi.

I love and hate talking to women about their memories of their Barbies. It seems as though everyone had all the cool stuff, and I didn't. I always wanted the dream house. My first Barbie was Skipper. Of course my older sister got the real Barbie. They came in swimsuits and had tan lines. Cool. Then one Christmas I got the horse from Santa. The brush set came in a little plastic bag marked "Made in China". I was very confused. "This should say 'Made by Elves!'" Mary Jane just smirked. I found out the Santa truth very soon, sadly. Then there was the Corvette. Our hamsters fit in there perfectly. Got some good photos of that. It was during the height of Miami Vice. And the hair salon! Forgot about that.

I loved the make believe world of Barbies. The clothes, the glamour, playing house with Ken and the blow up furniture I bought from a White Elephant sale at school. I had a lot of homemade furniture, too. I guess having no money spurred my creativity. Yay for being broke! I liked playing with cousin Brenda's retro Barbies. She had groovy ones with groovy styles. I was amazed at the vintage-like appeal.

I used to think little girls wouldn't be influenced by Barbies. They're just toys, make believe. But the more I think about it, the more I realize playing with Barbies probably did shape my personality a little. Not that I want a Corvette, or a horse. Damn, her! She is bad!

I hope this little blog makes you think of all the fun times you had playing Barbies.

Bodice Buster

2009-02-12T10:37:00.005-06:00

OOOhhh....I'm going to get SOOOO much crap for sharing this....but I do it all for good blog material! (At least that's what I tell Marcy. We're hanging out on Valentine's Day, so stay tuned for that blog...hehehe....)

I was cyberstalking Suburban Kamikaze's blog, and she was talking about some goofy romance novel about her and Mr. Suburban Kamikaze. So clicked on the link, and ooohh...guess what IIII fooouuund?? (that's sing-song, ok??) I, well, anyone, can make themselves a character in their own romance novel!! Which sounds cheesy at first, but then...I found Vampire Kisses! If you know me well, (or have walked past my padded cell-cubicle-at work) you know I have developed a crush on Edward Cullen. Yes, the hunky, brooding vampire from Twilight. I've only seen the movie twice, but that's because the DVD will be out in a month, and I can wait for that. But I am a part of a cult at work. I even bought someone a $10 magazine all about Twilight. (I'll take that off my HuHot tab, by the way) But I'm getting random.

So Vampire Kisses is a romance novel that I can customize with my own name, and Edward's of course, and my BFF (let the bidding start now), and even my pet!! Gatsby was so made to be a heroine in a romance novel. There are 26 characteristics to personalize it with to make it truly unique and sentimental! And I get to personalize the cover, "which will make it look stunning on a book shelf or coffee table." Or on the floor next to my bed with the other trashy bodice buster romance novels. Because as they say on the website "Why read between the lines when you can read between the sheets?" And I think I have the perfect book cover......

Dear, Joaquin

2009-02-10T23:07:00.004-06:00

Dear, dear, Joaquin Phoenix. Let us gaze gratuitously on this smokey photo of you. There's something to be said about tall, dark and handsome. You have an edge, a mystery, and are devoted to your craft, and completely become that character. Whatever the hell that craft or character is at the moment, apparently. I think I've seen only a few of your movies. I thought you were HOT in all of them. I could be really really shallow and put all of your movies into my Netflix queue, but I won't. Instead, I will be shallow and devote a blog to how scary your appearance has become. It pains me to post this photo of you. But I, too am devoted to my craft du jour. Children, if you see this man, do not be afraid. And do not offer him money. He apparently has enough to build himself an elaborate recording studio for his new....er..career.

I KNOW! WTF?? He doesn't know if he has a look, or if he's going for a look. He just thinks of himself as "having a beard". Such a guy thing to say. "What? What's wrong with my hair? Why would I cut it? Hey, I LIKE the beard! Yeah, I found these sunglasses at a garage sale...cool, huh? (Arches back, scratches round belly) The old lady said her dead husband owned them, along with this read shirt (burp) oooh..man, nachos...sorry...anyway, she said I could have them both for like, two dollars! Sweet, huh?"

OK, I got distracted. Back to the story. If you haven't heard, he's ditching acting for good. His new focus is rapping. He's always loved rap and music. He loves the story telling aspect of rap, the rhyming, and the raw emotion of it. Yeah, but.....you think rap, and you see Tupac (hot!) or Eminem. I'm all confused! He did a little show in Vegas. He fell off the stage at the end. I guess you couldn't really hear him at first, but the little you could hear, he wasn't that bad? What is he going to rap about?? I'm taking this way to hard. It's because I was in love with River Phoenix when I was young. And now we're losing Joaquin! Well, we're not losing an actor, we're gaining a rapper. I'll leave you with a photo of the man underneath the Rick Rubin wanna be look.

Women love jerks

2009-02-08T21:18:00.003-06:00

Bobbi and I went to see the movie "He's Just Not That Into You" today. Saw the matinee cuz we're econo-wise. Six bucks for a movie these days! And don't get me started on the price of the soda and popcorn. My date shared her popcorn, because she's sweet.

When the book came out, I was already onto men and their tricks and was shacking up with someone, so I didn't feel it was necessary to read it. It should've been published 10 years ago. That's when I really needed it. Not that I would've paid any attention had I read it. As Alanis would say "I used to be attracted to boys who would lie to me, and you were plenty self-destructive for my taste at the time...I used to say 'the more tragic the better'."

Of course I saw myself in one of the characters more than the others. I was the guy who had feelings for the girl that only wanted him when she was in need of feeling better. That girl was played by Scarlett Johansen. All I could think when I watched her was "She's so hot. I want her curves. And lips. And hair. I wonder what size she is? Not as thin as Jennifer Aniston. Are Jennifer and John Mayer really together, and possibly engaged? They broke up, dude. He's odd. What are the odds of couples lasting when they get back together after a break up? Jennifer always plays herself in her film roles. Always the same character. As Alex said once, "I know. That's why I like her. She'd be a great friend." I wonder if Scarlett met Ryan Reynolds (her husband) while he was engaged to Alanis Morrisette?" Yes, I was having this conversation while watching the movie. It IS scary inside my head. I KNOW.

The storyline was true to life. We justify things to make ourselves and friends feel better. We read into things and analyze them and relive the tiniest details just so we can keep the feelings and adrenline alive. We crave the drama. Isn't drama better than sitting at home, in your pj's, ill from ice cream and bbq pork ribs, blogging on your laptop? With cats??

buddabuddabudda

2009-02-06T00:00:00.001-06:00

I love buddas. All buddas. Every time I see one, I want to buy it. Thank God (or Budda) I don’t buy them all. I hate dusting. I don’t know when or how or why the obsession started. I just don’t want it to end.

There are typically two types of buddas. The fat jolly one, and the serene faced one. I prefer the latter. I wonder if Christian’s used the idea of the fat jolly one as a muse for Santa Claus? I have nothing against fat jolly bald men. I just like serenity. Or the illusion of it, anyhow.

I also love Ganesha, a Hindu God. Ganesha is the remover of obstacles and is very generous. He is symbolized as an elephant. I also really like elephants, for no apparent reason. I once had a Ganesha car air freshener. I thought it would be practical and serve two purposes. #1) keep my car smelling funky fresh #2) remove traffic obstacles from my path. I was living in Chicago at the time, and needed all the divine intervention on traffic I could get. Neither happened. So I added a plastic disco ball to round out the ensemble, just for flair, and because I love shiny.

On the subject of Gods….I was meditating one day, minding my own visions, imagining myself walking down a set of stairs, wondering what I would find, when I was greeted by another Hindu god, Shiva. It was trippy, to say the least. What was she doing here? Why would I conjure up this image of a blue woman with lots of arms? She was very happy to see me, and was clapping two of her hands. Just to round out the ensemble, I imagined Budda and Ganesha there, too. I did research on Shiva, and found out she represents death and destruction. Death of something. Sometimes you have to close a door so another can open. Tear something down so you can rebuild something better. So I knew my roller coaster ride of a relationship with someone special was nearing it’s end. I was sad. I still am. Still waiting for the other door to open. Maybe windows keep opening, but I don’t notice them because I’m too busy tugging at the door knob, with my foot on the jamb?

*this blog was written exactly a month ago. since then, my "hindu god of the week" gadget has had a form of Shiva for 3 weeks in a row. so i figured i should post it already. still fighting with my roller coaster relationship. i'm tired of hurting. i've gotten off the ride mulitiple times, but somehow find myself on it again and again. it's just not worth it. friends don't treat you that way.

Soul City

2009-02-04T00:21:00.003-06:00

I was looking at A Fuss's (Alex) facebook wall, and it showed that she had taken a "Soul City" quiz. A quiz to find out where you were meant to live. OOOOhhh...exciting! I always wonder where I'd feel most at home. So I took the quiz. And here is my result: Amsterdam!? My first thought was: "Isn't pot legal there?" You can smoke it, not buy it? Or something.....Here's the quiz result: Anything goes! Your laid back and cool dude attitude goes well with the free spirited capital of the Netherlands. You have a hidden, risqué side that unsurfaces when the mood takes you. (when i'm drunk) A cheeky glint in your eye, a certain sex appeal that is extremely captivating. (oh, go on!) You very much believe in working to live, not living to work, (selling my crafts) so I don't expect to see you in the boardroom with Sir Alan on The Apprentice (uh...Donald Trump)- rather sitting outside a nice bar or cafe watching the world go by...(I do that from my padded cell without a door...er..cubical...now)

So true! Especially the last line. I was on my honeymoon in St. Maarten (or St. Thomas, I forget. It was really the divorce cruise, so forgive me), at the highest peak of the island, sipping an overpriced drink, thinking "If I were 25, I would ditch it all, and move here." It still seems like a good idea. But it gets harder and harder to pick up and leave as I get older.

The bulk of the facebook quizzes are written by non-Americans. That's ok. It gives an interesting twist. Except for the grammatical and spelling errors. Those bother me. I shouldn't judge!!

Setsubun

2009-02-03T01:24:00.003-06:00

Setsubun, or "seasonal division", is a festival celebrated in Japan on February 3rd or 4th. For many centuries, the people of Japan have been performing rituals with the purpose of chasing away evil spirits at the start of spring. Around the 13th century, it became a custom to drive away evil spirits by the strong smell of burning dried sardine heads. This isn't popular anymore, but a few people may still decorate their house entrances with fish heads and holy tree leaves to deter evil spirits from entering. Now people throw roasted beans around their houses and temples and shrines. They shout "Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!" This means "Devils out, happiness in!"

Why the fuku am I telling you this?? Because I promised Kelley that I would schedule an exorcism at her house last Sunday, and I never got around to it. Do you think it's coincidence that she's got all this fuku'd stuff going on and on, and today and tomorrow just happen to be Setsbun? This girl needs some serious sage smudging and bean tossing right now! She's got drama going on around her, and it's getting to the point of comical. To me. Not to her. So I'm telling the energy around her, "Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!" "Back off, bad mojo! And let the Caribou White Chocolate Mocha goodness in!"

*side note...i totally plagiarized that first paragraph. i'm on like my 6th beer, bored, and stumbled across this holiday on my "reason to drink" gadget on my blog. (not that i need a reason to drink, but it comes in handy) who knew that gadget would become educational?? so i googled it, and had a blog inspiration. so say a prayer for kelley...the girl who said honestly, "Gin and tonic? Is there vodka in that?" we heart you, kel.

Alter Ego

2009-02-01T19:51:00.001-06:00

I sarcastically refer to my period as "The Crimson Tide". I affectionately refer to my attitude during this time as "Veruca Salt". It wasn't me having that outburst. It was Veruca.

All bets are off that week. No diet, no budget, no filter. It's a free for all. Crying, eating, drinking, buying something pretty. I usually find myself digging through drawers and cabinets suddenly needing chocolate. Babies. I love babies. Need more babies! I could just eat them, they are so delectable. Don't forget the pants with no waistband. These are very important when feeling bloated and uncomfortable. Note to self: buy more pants with no waistband.

I don't enjoy being an emotional, craving all things sinful, bitch. I do admit it's nice to have an excuse for one week out of every month. The problem is, I tend to be wacko a week prior, the week of, and sometimes the week after. That leaves me with one full week of some semblance of sanity. It's rough being me! Now, where did I put that ice cream....

Meeting Minutes

2009-01-31T13:30:00.003-06:00

I'm pleased to announce that the New Kids on the Block Concert Committee had a very productive meeting today!! But first, I need to give some background. Then, I can share the exciting news.

Last summer, someone mentioned the New Kids were getting back together. Then it was mentioned how the concert would be fun. Albeit shyly. The idea snowballed. One by one, we came out of our boy band closets and admitted we'd like to go to the concert. October seemed like a year away, but we made the commitment. We started to get together after work to hash out the details over drinks. I dubbed these sessions "concert committee meetings".
After the concert, the committee got together for lunch one payday weekend at a steakhouse to drool over slabs of hunky beef. Both bovine and human. Kelley doled out the copies of pics from the concert and we tittered and giggled all over again and relived the details.

Early this month, Cori suggested that the committee should meet up again at our favorite steakhouse, on the 31st (we got paid). Something magical happened. Fate happened. The planets aligned, and the heavens parted and angels sang. NKOTB announced it's 3rd leg of their tour!! The murmurings began, rumors spread, and hopes were lifted. After numerous emails and IM's, the committee unanimously agreed! We are all going to Winnipeg, Candada on April 9th to see them again! And this time nose bleed tickets are NOT an option! I think it's fate that the tickets went on sale the same day as our meeting. The boy band Gods wanted this to happen.
You can't really call us fanatical for seeing them twice. It's a different year, and a different country, so it's totally justified and not crazy at all.

Pregnant women crave (blogs about) ice cream

2009-01-29T22:30:00.009-06:00

This one goes out to preggo A Fuss, who demands another blog from me. And because I need to justify buying 2 types of ice cream, I will use "blog research" as my justification.

In the photo, you will see the two types of ice cream I purchased. Along with a random porcelain flamingo. Who doesn't keep mid-century porcelain flamingos in their kitchen? And those wine bottles are future craft projects. And that kitchen timer was supposed to be cool and retro, because I don't have a timer on my stove. There's nothing cool about it not always ringing when the time is up. *&^%$$#@*!!! But I digress.....onto the research.

Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie: tasted just like that. Very chocolatey, fudgey, and the brownies were awesome! A very rich flavor, and smooth ice cream. Full bodied, if you will. It's perfect for those "give me chocolate and no one gets hurt" days. I don't remember how much it cost. Over priced, I'm assuming. Side note, Tigger goes crazy when I break it open.

Kemp's Peanut Butter Cup Brownie: Smooth flavor, not over powering. The small peanut butter cups were just the right size, and there is peanut butter swirled throughout the ice cream. YUM. The brownies seemed unnecessary. They didn't taste very good, were small pieces, and just seemed "redundant"? That word comes to mind because while I was eating it, I was watching the British show "The Office" and the first episode is about redundancies, and people possibly being fired, and it's really a good show. I love British comedies. For some reason, they seem much funnier than us. I'm sure if Tigger were in the room, he'd go crazy when I open the carton. He goes crazy when I open a wine bottle. I don't remember how much it cost, either. Probably almost as much as the smaller Ben & Jerry's.

So, there you have it. A big mess of ramblings, and now you know why this blog is titled "Randumb". "Stream of conscience thoughts by Sarah that do not connect" was too long.

Ben & Jerry Defense

2009-01-26T22:13:00.004-06:00

Tonight I went to the store to buy ice cream. I was going to go to DQ, but it was f-f-f-f-reeeezing out, and I thought I should go straight home. The call of the craving was too strong, so I stopped at the store. I grabbed Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Brownie Fudge, and decided to check out the other options. I found Peanut Butter Cup Brownie in another brand. I grabbed that. I started to reach for the B&J's to put it back....and then a little voice inside said, "Nah...keep both!" So....how do I justify this???

1) PMS is coming
2) Blog research. I need to try both and write reviews and judge them

The cats were all over me when I cracked the B&J's. I about had A Fuss sized hissy fit when they were closing in on me. (sorry, inside joke) Don't mess with a girl and her ice cream!

"and then the lobsta sez.....

2009-01-25T23:11:00.007-06:00

...Bless ya, kid!" (cue laugh track) NO!! A four year old sneezing on the lobster tank at Red Lobster is NOT funny!! But that is where our story begins, sadly.

Have you ever noticed how subdued the lobby of Red Lobster is? Is it the soothing sound of the running water in the lobster tank, or is it the impending doom of those sad, sad lobsters that makes everyone respectfully quiet? In the Olive Garden it's loud, and happy, and "Mangia!!" and people are excited to eat their fake Italian. Not so much at the land of fake seafood. Can you tell I'm a snob? I've tasted fresh Italian, fresh seafood, good steak. Red Lobster and Olive Garden? Psht. Bitch, please. (Sorry to my friend who LOVES Red Lobster. You can leave a nasty comment.)

We were seated and informed that our server with a first name that sounded more like a last name would be our "Seafood Expert." I stifled a scoff. An expert within the scope of the 4 types of seafood they offered at Red Lobster, I reminded myself. He served us with much flair and panache. Finally, somone who can pretend to love his job!! So refreshing.

The conversation in the booth behind us was lively, also. Heard all about someone's credit card fraud and police reporting issues, a near miss accident and situations like it (and the proper way to act when your life flashes before your eyes, apparently), and a stand off between a sherrif and an angry gun weilding shop owner. The owner had a permit to carry, and that's why he had the gun. Not sure if that was a justification??? Then they moved on to Vegas. I was hoping to hear mob stories, but no. Not sure what business or circles these people were in, but MUCH more exciting than my family.

Yes. I'm a mooch. I endure fake food and bad decor and mixed company for a free meal. If the parental units are going to pay, I won't push it. I did give them the $25 gift card to Red Lobster, so I kinda set myself up. Set myself up for nightmares about sad lobsters covered in mucus.

THIS IS IN THE BATHROOM STALL. WTF IS THAT LITLE INDENTATION ON THE RIGHT OF THE TRAY? FOR YOUR CIGARETTES? CAR KEYS? TAMPON? LOBSTER THAT YOU SNUCK OUT OF THE TANK BECAUSE YOU FELT BAD? (I HAD TO CONCENTRATE VERY HARD WHILE TAKING THIS PHOTO WITH MY CELL PHONE. I COULD SEE MYSELF DROPPING IT INTO THE TOILET WHILE TRYING TO HAVE SOMETHING ODD FOR MY BLOG)

A Hairballing Experience

2009-01-24T01:05:00.005-06:00

Kelley was right. Friday night was a night begging to be blogged about. When you start blogging, you see life as yes or no. Yes, this would be a good blog, or no, this would not make it into a blog. Driving with Marcy to and from WalMart, and she slips and slides, almost rear ends a car, clips a snow bank, makes me carry her basket full of Dinty Moore stew and pot pies, and we end up yelling at each other? "YOU ARE A BLOG WAITING TO HAPPEN" was what I finally told her. So tonight was one of those nights.

A month ago, I coordinated a night out with a co-worker. There was an 80's coverband, "Hairball" playing at a large club. (The photo is their actual logo) So I sent a mass email inviting many people inside and outside of work to join us. On Monday I sent another email reminding them. A few backed out, a few couldn't make it, but a few actually dressed the 80's part! I saw a few of them, briefly. Most of my night was spent in the coat check line 3 times for 10-15 minutes per time. Or waiting for a waitress, or putting up with drunk girls in the bathroom. There was also the drunk girl that my sweater got caught on. She tried to rip my sweater thread from her. I gave her the finger and yelled at her. I thought I was disconnected from her. Oops..still stuck to her! Luckily she was drunk and didn't want to kick my ass. I'm all talk, anyway. I had visions of my loose knitted sweater having a huge hole in the sleeve, or a long run up my arm. I wore this sweater to my wedding dinner/reception, people!! It has sentimental value!! Whatev. Not a sweater to wear in a crowd. If only she had been a hot, single man......We lost the rest of the group right away.

The band was pretty good. Costumes, sounded like Van Halen, or Prince, or Poison. Bobbi was upset when the singer got "Talk Dirty to Me" wrong. We weren't drunk enough. That was the problem. The night was one big "I'm too old for this shit/I'm too sober for this shit". I just didn't feel like standing on the edge of the crowd, getting jostled, listening to songs I don't remember.

How you know you're too old (or sober) for this clubbing shit:
-You wear your winter coat into the bar. (When we were 21, we just ran quickly, and were too drunk to feel it)
-You don't think it makes sense to wait in line to get into the bar. (I guess when you're younger, it has some sort of elitist appeal. The longer the line, the better the time inside??)
-You wonder how those girls can stand in those shoes?!
-You wonder how those girls can be so thin??!!
-You'd rather pee outside than endure drunk girls in the bathroom.
-You wonder why the fucking music has to be so fucking loud. Doesn't anyone talk anymore??

The highlight of the night was the girl at the ATM who kept saying "This isn't working! Why isn't this working?" Not sure if she thought the machine was broken or if her card was broken. But the screen clearly said "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS". A lot of those kids in that bar should've had that tattooed across their foreheads in reference to their intelligence.

BlogWho?

2009-01-22T08:00:00.000-06:00

I don't like to categorize myself. Not that I'm trying to be all "Indie" and cool. I'm just equal opportunity. If someone were to ask what my style of dress was, or what music I listen to, or what food I like to eat, the answer is always the same: "A little of everything". Not even sure what group of friends in High School I belonged to. I'm afraid to ask at the next reunion.

I went to the BlogHer website the other morning, just to see what the fuss was about, and started to wonder what category this blog would fall under. (Sarahism: for the longest time, due to the color and font of BlogHer, I thought it was "Blocher". Made nooo sense. I feel somewhat better now that I know the real word.) I clicked on the drop down menu, and read the categories of blogs. I started to get "worried". There were so many that my blogs fall under. There was one easy one that I could cross off the list quickly, however. News and Politics is not my schtick. I tuned in to the inaguration just in the nick of time to see the big guy get sentanced. Just like American Idol. I tune in at the last minute to see the winner. BeautyHack: future blog about my hair experiments. Business and Career: I do have a lot of crafts waiting to be sold and complained about. Entertainment and Culture: Moi. Food and Drink: Wine, wine, a dry roast. Health and Wellness: See "Phat Ass" blog. Mommy and Life: Cats. Money and Personal Finance: I get paid, I spend it. Sex and Relationships: Love to complain about the absence and the dyfunction. Technology and Internet: Again, dysfunctional. See "&^%$##@#!!" blog.

There is one topic that I fall under if I were to pick from their list. "Life". Because "Random" isn't available.

How to waste a Sunday

2009-01-18T14:48:00.025-06:00

Step 1: Sleep in until after 11am. (This step is necessary if you went to a party the night before, and then stayed up until 2:30am playing on Photofunia.com)
Step 2: Take roast out of freezer. You will need to run hot water on it to remove the pad thingy. Place roast in crockpot. Don't worry if roast doesn't fit. Shove the lid on top anyway. VERY IMPORTANT: TELL CAT TO STAY AWAY FROM ROAST. You may need to occasionally yell things like "What are you doing in there?! Here, kitty, kitty!"
Step 3: Play Mini-golf on facebook, curse Alex for introducing it to you, yell at laptop to scare cats and neighbors, keep playing so you win money to buy pink golf clubs for $500. Repeat Step 3 as needed.
Step 4: Call numerous stores looking for Wii Fit for mother, call mother back repeatedly, tell her all the stores are out of Wii Fit, and she should've called around before leaving the house, and freak out on her.
Step 5: After an hour of playing Mini-golf, multiple phone calls, trying to email a friend in between phone calls, and fighting cat off lap, check roast.
Step 6: TURN ON CROCKPOT. (%$#@*^!!!!)
Step 7: Do steps 1-6 to avoid mountain of laundry(and vacuuming, apparently).
Step 8: Blog about it.

Horrorscopes

2009-01-17T13:48:00.004-06:00

It's freaky how "accurate" my horoscope via facebook has been lately. Kelley and I had a good laugh at "you've been a good friend, but maybe it's time to suggest professional help."

After fighting with my computer this morning, and the past three days, I finally got the plug-ins installed. What does my "horrorscope" say today? "Leo: You've got a big problem to solve today! It'll take a couple tries, but you'll get it right." I did get worried when two separate horoscopes in the same week suggested I mind my oral health. I'm hoping it's the same crackpot freelance horocsope writer that wrote those. I can just see some woman sitting in her kitchen, henna dyed hair, coffee mug with "First, God created Man. Then She laughed", ash tray full of butts, a worn out deck of Tarot cards, and 12 cats. The scary thing is that I think I've had bad breath this week.

A quick over view of Leo's: The most vital sign of the zodiac, Leos exude confidence. Stubborn yet impulsive. Showy, dramatic and sometimes vain. Sunny demeanor and love to be the center of attention. Like to be worshipped, though this may be unrealistic. Leos have a natural knack for improvising, but watch out: they can also be fantastic con artists. Damn. We're shallow. Madonna and Marcy are also Leo's. Need I say more?

&$#@^%%!!!!

2009-01-16T00:30:00.007-06:00

I don't know a lot about computers. Very little. Your mom knows more than I do. So when I had to strip my laptop to factory settings and start fresh, it turned into a meltdown. I'm still in meltdown mode. I've had a rough night. Had a long day, and dealt with a man who apparently is having a PMS episode.

The other morning, I couldn't use my mouse pad on my laptop. I called the Ex, and he suggested support tech. Support tech determined it was not a part that needed to be replaced, so it must be a virus, and let's erase everything on my laptop and get it back to factory settings. OH, HAPPY DAY. Not an issue for someone who can reset everything. I am stupid about these things. The Ex bought the laptop, set up the laptop, and then mailed the laptop to me. All I had to do was turn it on, and start surfing. I lost all my pics, and documents that were saved. I also had all my future blogs saved. I thought I was lucky that I had saved the blogs on the blogspot.com website. Mixed blessing. I posted the Phat Ass blog, but it posted as the day it was written, not the day it was posted. And I've fucked around with the Adobe reader for a long time. So I can't read my fortune on my fortune cookie gadget or play Scrabble on facebook. After pushing numerous keys, shaking laptop, and swearing, I thought I had finally downloaded it. Nope. Guess not. I'm livid. Oh, and so I tried to cut and paste the Phat Ass text into Word.....it says Word is not working, and I should click the button, diagnose the problem, and close. Nothing happens when I do that, other than closing the window. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. I hate this. If I call the Ex, I'll just end up yelling at him.

My apartment is about 80 degrees, or warmer, so I'm hot and bothered in a bad way. I have radiators, and am on the second floor. If this were Chicago, I'd be freezing to death. I decided to crack a bottle of the infamous Wine of the Month, and saw that the cork was almost pushed all the way out. I guess that bottle froze. If I was a true wine snob, I would not drink it. It's not tasting horrible, so I'm drinking it anyway. Alcohol and heat could be part of my anger issues.

I realize this is not a funny blog, but it is a bitching blog. If you know me well, you know you get the sweet with the sour, and the funny with the dour. I will do nothing about the man with PMS. I did nothing wrong. I will try to stay strong and accept the fact that you can't always help the way people interpret what you say or how you act. I'm not responsible for his perceptions this time, and I will not explain myself and try to make him feel better.

"And I know it aches, and how your heart breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on
You've got to leave it behind"

...and then I started crying.

2009-01-12T22:42:00.000-06:00

Last week was supposed to be my crappy week, and this week was supposed to be my start fresh week. Actually, last week was supposed to be my start fresh week, but it turned into my crappy week, so this week I'm starting over. Got all that?

"The Crimson Tide" showed up last Monday, so I decided to feel fat and sorry for myself and sleep in everyday. I now work at 1PM, so I have the luxury of doing that. I decided today was the day! I was going to get up, be productive, go to the gym, the Post Office, and the UPS station to finally get that damn wine!

OK, so I managed to sleep until 10, but was out of the house by 11. It snowed last night, and it was a balmy -11 below today, so the weather pissed me off right off the bat. The wind had been blowing hard and there were drifts and piles of snow everywhere to drive in and walk through. I hate that! I made it to the UPS station, expecting my damn wine to be frozen, and throwing a tantrum. What I didn't expect was the change in hours. That's right- they now open at 1PM. I had a sudden Tourettes outburst and literally said out loud, "Fuck, shit, damn!" (Yeah, I don't know either.) I trudged back to my car, started driving away....and then I started crying. I was listening to my "Elevation" CD by U2. Bono was singing to me that I was stuck in a moment, and this time will pass. I told him to fuck off.

I stopped by Jitters because I had a free drink (had to make my own illegal parking space), and figured if the espresso didn't cheer me up, I'd just have to stick my head in the snow. I then stopped at the Post Office (had to make yet another illegal parking space), stood in line for 5-10 minutes and tried hard not to scream. Of course the dude in front of me had to tell the crazy lady, who knew everyone in that tiny post office, that his wife was in the hospital and had been battling cancer, and something about her stem cell. I felt guilty, and wondered silently what Michael J. Fox was up to, and how the whole stem cell research battle was coming along, and why politicians have to be assholes, and if I would last another 30 seconds without having another Tourettes outburst. I then finally mailed my divorce papers.

I was able to go back to the UPS station and get the damn wine. I brought it into work, for fear of it freezing in my car. After my shift, I got into my cold car and thought, "I'm gonna have some wine when I get home!" That's when I realized I had left the damn wine back at my desk. I have a "no wine left behind" policy, so of course I had to go back upstairs for it.

Ah...the moment we've all been waiting for! I opened the box, and was happy to see three bottles there. When I signed up for the wine of the month club, I got a third bottle of my choice for free. This wouldn't be my life or a blog if something wasn't sadly, horribly, funnily wrong, right? I got the wine varietal that I had requested, all right. Three damn bottles of it!!! What is the point of joining a wine of the month club if you don't get a variety??!! I have nothing more to say.

Phat Ass

2009-01-07T00:00:00.002-06:00

That’s the goal, anyway. I’ve decided it’s time (for the umpteenth time) to lose some chubbiness. Right now I just feel like a Fat Ass. I’ve let my self go. Go wide. So once again I’m getting back on the treadmill of torture, and will attempt to infuse my diet with foods that actually come from the earth.

I blame my weight gain on simple reasons: #1) We’re not in our 20’s anymore, Toto #2) Marriage* #3) Pity Party/Cubicle Life/Self-Indulgence. #1) I enjoy being in my 30’s, but long for the metabolism of my 20’s. I see those young, skinny girls, and I think, “Live it up, you tramps! Your day will come!” Sometimes I think it out loud. #2) Dating usually involves going out to eat. When you get married, your entertainment is going out to eat. #3) When you separate, you tend to bring food to your own pity party. Then you work in a “cubicle farm” and you tend to eat to break up the monotony of the job. If your brain isn’t being stimulated, your taste buds might as well be. There seem to be a lot of potlucks, and treats, and our vending machines take credit cards now, and Chinese is ordered by a group at least once a week and I just can’t say “No” to any of it. The afore mentioned reasons have left me chubby. The heaviest I’ve ever been. I’m not saying I’m obese, but do you have to be obese before you do something about your weight? I’m not 5 months pregnant, and I’m tired of looking like it.

I’ve started all of my past diets and workout routines with full blown enthusiasm (delusion) and 95.7% commitment. The newness quickly wears off, and the routine wears thin. I eventually go back to my slothen way of life. This time I just want to make exercising a part of my life, and eat better more often, and eat crap less often. Sounds simple, right? I’m not ready to delete Papa John’s from my speed dial, however.

I’m also trying to get healthy because I’ve seen the effects of poor health on the elderly. I don’t want to be the withered, bent over hag that doesn’t know her skirt is tucked into her pantyhose, or that her wig is on backwards. I want to be the hag who wears her lipstick a little too bright, her jewelry a little too flashy, and reads the Enquirer because it’s all true.

*note to self for future relationships: more sex, less take out

Marcy

2009-01-06T23:43:00.000-06:00

Marcy, Marcy, Marcy…..be careful what you ask for…you just might get it. My dear friend, Marcy, read my first blog and asked “When will I be mentioned in one of your blogs?” Muhahahaha…..I do hope this blog does her justice. Don’t hold your breath. Where to begin, though??

Marcy is somewhat of a local celebrity, much to her chagrin. When you are a little person in a town with maybe 2 or 3 little people, you tend to be remembered. People ask you stupid questions, and say stupid things to you. She hates the question “Do you know the Roloff’s?” (The famous family on TLC’s Little People, Big World) I think she should just say “Why don’t you rolloff??” She knows of them, has never met them. She was once in a dressing room, trying on a pair of jeans. The helpful sales woman looked at her and the extra 2 feet of leg fabric and politely informed Marcy that she would have to get them shortened. Marcy replied with the obvious “I know”, and the poor woman quickly realized her stupidity, and felt embarrassed. If I had been there I would’ve said, “Oh, she’ll just roll them up”. Or, “She usually wears high heels. This length will be fine with heels.” Children love Marcy. They light up when they see her. I told her she should dress up like Santa. That would blow their minds! An old drunk dude at the VFW really loved her, too. He was also lit up, but in a different way.

Marcy tends to be on the conservative side, and doesn’t usually stray from her comfort zone. She’s traveled, and leads a full life, but hasn’t lived in a city bigger than Fargo, and is from a small Minnesota town. These traits mean she doesn’t always know what I’m talking about. I was telling her how my jeans don’t fit anymore, and then I joined a gym, and later I mentioned that the gym is next to Gloria Jean’s. “That’s funny, your gym is next to a jean store!” No, Marcy. Gloria sells coffee, not denim. “What kind of name is that? How was I supposed to know they sold coffee?!“ By the way, Starbucks is also a coffee shop. I realize the name is misleading and seemingly random. How dare they?

If you want a really good laugh, just watch me try to pull her up into my Ford Escape! We can’t get in and out of it too often in a short time period. The more times she gets in and out of it, the more tired she gets, and the harder we laugh, and it takes longer and longer to get her in. I need to look into installing a running board on the passenger side. I wonder if I can get a discount if I just buy one? She refuses to use a mini-trampoline. Can you say “buzz kill?’ (I’ll explain the definition of that later, Marcy)

A couple other “Marcy-isms”:
“I might be old, but I don’t need glasses!” Um, Marcy? You wear CONTACTS. So technically, yes, you do.
Marcy hates walking ‘all the way to the elevator’ in her apartment building, from her car. So she chooses to walk up 3 flights of stairs. Not a big deal, good exercise. A big deal when you are about three feet tall and carrying 2 bags of groceries and a gallon of milk, or a family sized portion of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream that you had to walk all over Cash Wise looking for an associate to get it off the top shelf for you.

Don’t worry, though. I do nice things for her to balance out all the making fun of her, and taking advantage of her handicap parking privileges. A couple of times I’ve taken out her garbage so she didn’t have to haul it down three flights of stairs and climb a step stool just to reach the dumpster. And I have hemmed a lot of shirts for her. But not her pants. She just rolls those up.

Wineaux

2009-01-06T11:59:00.000-06:00

“Wineaux, Wineaux? Wherefore art thou Wineaux? It is I, Sarah. A woman who’s thirst can no longer be sated by Beringer and Yellow Tail. (actor spats on ground dramatically) Bring forth your gifts from that exotic land, Napa Valley!”

At the end of November, I went to a Wine Shop at Home party. The ratio was 3 to 6. Three woman, six bottles of wine. I’m sure you can figure out how that party ended. That’s right. A New Kids on the Block DVD and I joined the Wine of the Month Club.

It’s turning out to be “Wine Whenever the Hell You Get It Club”. The first shipment should have been delivered in mid-December. It sat on the UPS truck for two days while Mother Nature laughed, and she made sure those two days were -32 below. I was told the bottles froze. I hope the driver that passed out after drinking my three bottles froze to the floor of his truck.

The re-shipment is supposed to arrive today. Here I sit, anxiously awaiting the adult female version of Santa Claus. You’ve all been there. You don’t know when it will arrive, so you don’t know how to spend your morning. Do you shower? Go to the bathroom? Does the driver care what your hair looks like? Should you have purchased that new robe on the ‘Macy’s 27 Hour After Christmas Sale’? I think the question that matters most is: “Was that loud banging sound I heard this morning my wine tumbling down the back stairwell?” Who cares if it was the driver falling. As long as my wine crate fell on top of him, safely.

Hell hath no fury like a woman waiting!

facebook

2009-01-05T23:06:00.001-06:00

This site is sucking the life out of me. That’s ironic, because it kind of archives and tracks your life, interests and friends. What did we do before it was invented? After numerous quizzes, I now know I have the brain power of a chimp, I speak with a Midwestern accent, and Edward Cullen is my Twilight guy. I have yet to find a “what’s the meaning of life?” quiz. I’m afraid all results would be “facebook”. I’m spending a lot of time with my laptop on my lap, and the modem plugged into the right side. I fear I will get cancer in my right knee. I should think about moving the modem to the left side.

You never know who you will find on facebook. Sometimes I even invite strangers to look me up. (Kelley: “What are they going to do, Sarah? Search under ‘Drunk Girl at St. Paul Hilton?‘”) Facebook has been a great way for me to keep up with friends and family. I love seeing their photos, and writing sarcastic comments on their walls. (Usually when drunk, but that’s more of an exception, not a rule.) I’m sure they enjoy keeping up with my exciting life. Just the other day, I notified all of them that I am a fan of chocolate cake, red wine, and Cadburry mini eggs. I felt redeemed when Alex also became a fan of mini eggs. I felt as though I had “paid it forward”. I love sifting through/joining the pointless, random groups. “I love the Great Gatsby, Wine Shop at Home, I love my cat but hate cleaning up it’s barf, Twilight is not real, get over it, I hate washing dishes by hand (because I do!!), Uff da! Is the shit”. None of these compare to the pride I felt when I joined “Fargo: The fifth drunkest city in the nation”. The Admins sent me a Christmas e-card this year, and mailed out my updated membership card. It was laminated and everything. I thought that was a nice touch.

Damn Bowling Buddies. I’m addicted to it. After every game I think, “The next game could beat my high score.” (A 221, you go, girl!) I was so proud when I earned $500 in bowling bucks. I could finally purchase those trendy black Converse shoes for my avatar!! To play the game, I press and hold the right mouse button to pick up the ball. I then push my middle finger over the mouse pad on my laptop, and that throws the ball down the lane. I think it’s giving me carpal tunnel, tendonitis, and removing the finger print from my middle finger. Actually, missing a finger print might come in handy one day. I’ll keep playing. There’s a curious little button marked “SUPPORT”. I believe in three possibilities. #1: If you are experiencing technical difficulties, click it. #2: If you need tips and pointers for a better score, click it. (Stupid splits!! Grrrr…) #3: If I click it, a pop up window will open, and I will be instantly connected to a live chat session with a confident, well trained counselor who will oh so subtly draw me into an intervention and try to convince me that I don’t need play this game over and over, for an hour or more at a time. “A callous on my ‘driving finger’ just isn’t sexy” is a good reason to back off. I think possibilities two and three are probably projections. I’m afraid to find out.

The scent of divinity

2009-01-03T20:20:00.000-06:00

Marcy drug me all over this afternoon. She had to run "a few errands". Such a miser, that girl. Toothpaste at Target, tomatoes at Cash Wise, Dinty Moore at WalMart....and the weather is total crap today. I think we got about 4 inches of snow?? On top of our 32. "Let it snow, let it snow....SOMEPLACE ELSE!!" That's what I think. So we're driving around in the snow, and we end up at Kmart. We soooo got hit on by the dorky/helpful associate. He went to look for her Tide that was on sale, and she had a coupon, so dammit I was determined to make this trip fruitful! He came back empty handed, and said, "Sorry...can we still be friends??" Marcy just said, "I'll think about it." I think I'm desperate, cuz I almost said, "Sure, what's your number?", but Marcy beat me to it. Whew. Dodged that bullet.

He was stocking those saint candles. I love them, they are so kitschy!! To my surprise, Kmart sells an entire line of saintly scents in various candles, scented oil, candle covers, a cross incense holder, and car air fresheners!! Do you know what the Virgin of Guadalupe smells like?? Floral. Very floral. And the "divine power"?? And the "heart of Jesus"?? I'm wondering if heaven smells like that. Like cheap incense. I was hoping it smelled like coffee beans or birthday cake.

Randomness that is Sarah

2009-01-01T14:26:00.000-06:00

I’m not entirely sure why I’m starting a blog. I don’t even like the way it sounds. Blogs seem trendy. I don’t do trendy. I do, however email my friends multiple times a day, so I guess those feel like blogs..So why not make it official and share the randomness that is Sarah?

I don’t have an exciting life, so I won’t bore you with those details. No kids, so I can’t smother you with tidbits and cute stories you’d rather not hear. I have 2 cats. Tigger and Gatsby. I won’t tell you too many stories about them, either. Someday maybe I’ll share the accounts of how Gatsby set himself on fire 3 separate times. (We were close to #4 when he decided to chill next to the hot iron) But my poor parenting skills are not for this blog. I assumed cats were like plants, only the cats are more vocal about needing nourishment. My plants just silently wither and wilt in slow agony. But with cats, the owner is the one in agony. Why can’t they just let me sleep? What do they have against me being the one who is horizontal? Jealousy. That must be it.

I’ve always enjoyed writing. So much so that my friend Kelley and I took a creative writing class in high school together. We didn’t know what to expect. We certainly weren’t expecting that brooding young man to walk through the classroom door, late, of course. He had that “I’m indie/alternative and like to write poetry and be mysterious and wear dark clothing and keep to myself” look. She and I turned to each other with raised eyebrows and smirks on our faces. We knew what the other was thinking: “This class is looking up!” I believe he talked to me one time. It was on picture day. I was wearing my U2 Achtung Baby concert t-shirt. “You like U2, Sarah?” I’m sure I beamed at him with my braced teeth and uttered some positive response, unable to keep the conversation going. I was awkward in high school. Kelley was impressed. I also had horrible perm at that time. The day after I committed this unspeakable act, Kelley came over to try to help me undo the damage. We washed my hair over and over, trying to relax the poodle curls to no avail. I do blame her for starting me on the path of hair experiments. That’s another blog for another time.

Randumb

Celia Who?

It's a Cosmo World After All

Valentine's Massacre

Crackhead in the Kitchen

Because waxing your own armpits isn't all that funny

Adventures in Brazil

Back to School

And then there were none

How NOT to spend your birthday

Walking on Broken Glass

Desperate Housewife

every time you email or call me, you just confirm that your life sucks. imagine how bored you'll be when the kids move out and all the animals are dead.

Things I learned

Yeah, I'm still here

thank YOU for the tension headache. (i can practice an attitude of gratitude however i f*cking want)

Randumb Outtakes

Happy Birthday, America

Cleansing Thoughts: Ghetto-fied

Soap gets in your eyes

Awe-suuuum?

Do what now? Wednesday

Everything you didn't want to know about me A-Z

And they're off!!

Flea Bags

To dye for

Let's get crackin

Almost Famous

Oh, for the love of jeans!

Oh, snap...

Me and My Big Ideas.....

JESUS, I need some coffee

Training Wheels

Should I be this angry?

Randumb

Tears of Joy

Letters from the Front: Saturday, Sunday

Letters from the Front: Friday

"Yes, I'm from Fargo.....

Run for the border

Apartment Therapy

You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing

Flizzard

Withering Heights

LOL Speak

Sadness

RAIN: A BEATLES TRIBUTE

Holy Blizzard, Batman

"Death Wish Kitty" starring: Gatsby

Princess Writer

Ghost Writer

CrackHead in the Kitchen

For me??

"Heeey, Bay-bee"

Is it just me?

I smell funny

Totally Randumb

Enquiring Minds

Barbie

Bodice Buster

Dear, Joaquin

Women love jerks

buddabuddabudda

Soul City

Setsubun

Alter Ego

Meeting Minutes

Pregnant women crave (blogs about) ice cream

Ben & Jerry Defense

"and then the lobsta sez.....

A Hairballing Experience

BlogWho?

How to waste a Sunday

Horrorscopes

*&$#@^%%*!!!!

...and then I started crying.

Phat Ass

Marcy

Wineaux

facebook

&$#@^%%!!!!