The Stylish New Fashion Trend

This post has no point, and for that I apologize.  I am sitting here eating a glazed donut in lieu of doing a yoga DVD, but only because the dog hasn't figured out how to use his new dog house and it is hovering above freezing so I feel bad putting him outside after just letting him in.  And everyone knows you can't do yoga with a 130 pound lab interested in what you are doing.  So donut and blogging it is.

Pajama pants in public.  That is what I want to talk about.

Over the holidays I did a little shopping around town and noticed this trend.  At the time, I thought maybe these kids were college students home on break and all of their decent pants were being washed at their parents house and so pyjama pants had to do in a pinch.  Ok, fine. At least you are somewhat covered, but I reserve the right to side-eye you for trying to tuck your polka dot flannel pants into your Uggs.

Then last night, I was picking up dinner for B and I at a local grill/burger joint.  As I walk out, in walks 3 high school age girls.  One wearing jeans and a big coat.  One wearing a short skirt, bright colored tights and a long sleeve shirt.  She looked cold, but also looked as though she put some thought into her outfit.  Kind of as if she wanted to look cute in case she ran into some boy she had a crush on.  I mean, why else would a 15 yr old brave 30 degree temps in little more than a flimsy layer of rayon?
The third girl?  Pajama pants. And a long-sleeved t-shirt.  Not even a hoodie.  The other two looked like they could have just come from a library, while this one looked like she was woken from a deep sleep.  Bad hair and all.  Hopefully her teeth had been brushed within the last 12 hours, but I wouldn't have put money on that.
At the time I wondered if her friends were embarrassed by their hobo-esque tag along.  The I had the chilling thought that maybe this was a "look" and then I silently prayed I was incubating a male and would only need to worry about the inevitable "I don't care if it is considered 'cool' but you will not have that Bieber hair cut and no son of mine will have hair reminiscent of a Beatle, ever!" Girls can be hard, I was one.

Anyway, tonight I stopped into the grocery store on the way home for my short list of things the house was in need of (re: milk and dog food) and in the process of forgetting the dog food, but picking up a 6 pack of glazed donuts (seriously $1.99 for 6 totally beat out the $0.39 each in the case), I saw another unfortunate soul dressed for slumber.  And this one was post high school age.  I think.  She was wearing something which looked an awful lot like a letterman's jacket, but without the patches, so I couldn't really tell.  Anyway, girl was in too tight t-shirt, ragged grey pajama pants, and flip flops.  Oh, and the pleather jacket missing the school identification. 

Seriously, WTF?  Pajama pants as acceptable outerwear? 
I get the yoga pants thing.  For one, if you are wearing something equally as casual on top, it can never be discounted that you are on your way to or from the gym.  Yay you.  Second, yoga pants are generally figure friendly.  Pajama pants?  Even the girls in VS look a little bit frumpy in the magazine.  *Sidenote - the girls in VS are like 6 feet tall, yes?  Why then when I order pajamas from VS, the pants are ankle height, if not higher, and I am only 5'6?*
Maybe yoga pants were the precursor to pajama pants.  Kind of like the shiny metallic windsuits from the early 90's were the precursor to tracksuits?  No?

And now there are pajama jeans?  Woah.  "The stylish new fashion trend!"  Oh goodness.  I almost want to buy a pair to make fun of them, but I don't want to waste $39.95... even with the promise of the free t-shirt.

I am lazy by nature, so I get the throw on the closest thing way of life, but generally that means you still change clothes after you get out of bed.  At some point, at least, before you leave the house.  Right?  Am I just crazy?

A list of absolutely nothing

Hi-ho!  We have been busy doing things that would only bore you to tears to recap in detail.  So I will spare you, mostly. 
When recalling the events of last week, all I could come up with was this:

• Melatonin doesn't work.  Period
• OTC sleeping pills are better.
• Restless Leg Syndrome will counteract OTC sleeping pills.
• The only plausible explanation for having RLS at 29 is that my body ages in dog years.
• In that case, it is a miracle I am even alive.
• You can tell when people were praying for you to get a hair cut by the sheer enthusiasm at seeing your new do.
• You can tell when people do not like your new haircut because they look at you, smile, and ask politely "do YOU like it?"
• I now actually have to style my hair.  Like a real life grown up. And it kind of sucks.
• The flu/sinus infection thing I have going on is the complete opposite of sexy.
• The couple on the Tempurpedic Mattress commercial are entirely too excited to learn how a DVD works.
• Also, who sleeps on a mattress without sheets other than college age boys?
• My dog can disconnect the hose from the spout.  He is Houdini reincarnated.
• With LiLo in the looney bin, TMZ has absolutely nothing to write about.  Which?  Makes me more productive... so yay?

See?  Nothing of any importance going on here. 

Are you a cat?

So last night I unknowingly participated in the dentist-given-hallucinatory drugs. 

Let me back up...

I spent all weekend in and out of consciousness on the couch. The third time I fell asleep mid-sentence was apparently B's first clue that these weren't just naps.  I love a good nap, but rarely ever *need* a nap.  I needed 5 over Saturday and Sunday apparently.

Monday at work, I started to feel my day go straight into slow motion.  Complete with voices lowering a few octaves.  I remember working until about 7, heading home, and then? Nothing.

Tuesday I call B from work and tell him I just want to catch up because we didn't get to talk last night.  He corrects me.  Apparently we *talked* for quite a while, and I continued to *talk* all night.  According to B, I witnessed a helicopter crash, the dog needed to go to the vet, and something about the car selling cupcakes.  I must be busy in my alternate universe.  I blame it on the potentially fatal flu I am convinced I am coming down with.

Last night, still feeling flu-ish, and also having just welcomed in my monthly *original sin*, (B's term, not mine), I crawl into bed and turn on the DVRed Raising Hope.  B missed the premier last week, but finds the show hilarious, which I think causes him to forget to confiscate the remote when the show ends.  He gets up for a second to get water and I see my chance to start Glee.
I ask nicely when he returns if I can watch a few minutes until I fall asleep.  He agrees.  I think at this point he realized my psychotic dreams were sure to be entertaining enough he could suffer through a few minutes of Glee.
Here is where the hallucinating begins again:
Just after Britney finishes singing Britney and Asks Uncle Jesse "Are you a cat?" I hear a faint man giggle. 
I avoid looking at him, because I don't want to spoil the moment.  And I also realize I am probably just hearing things through my medicine induced lethargy.
Then, as I start to fade into dreamworld (sorry Glee, but the meds were STRONG), I hear Finn say to Rachel, "Are you asking me to choose between you and football?" After she responds, I distinctly hear B mumble, "Well that isn't fair.  How could she ask him that?"
Oh Em Gee my husband is involved in Glee.  How strong are these drugs?
When the show ended, I took a chance to find out whether or not this fake version of my husband was a figment of my intoxication or if he was real.

Thanks for letting me watch all of Glee.  That was very nice of you, I know it isn't your favorite show.

I don't mind.  It is actually a good show once you get past the strangeness of guys breaking into song in football pads. 

Oh, well good then.

Clearly there was a chemical spill near my office on Monday that unleashed gallons of dentist happy juice into the air. 

I sure hope it doesn't wear off soon.

Everything I never wanted to know I learned on Facebook

I am not perfect.  This I know and readily admit.  I have many faults, one being my penchant for gossip and unquenchable desire to know the story behind everything.

 

I have been trying to keep my thoughts and judgments out of other people's business.  I have tried to not bring up any gossip unless it is good news about someone that can be construed as sharing in their excitement.

 

Facebook is killing me.

 

• I know that an acquaintance of mine is due to have her 2nd child any day now, and I also know what he son had for dinner tonight.
• I know that another acquaintance's newborn son is sick, and I feel awful about knowing that.  But I wish her and the baby nothing but the best.
• I know when the latest engagement occurs.
• I see pictures from weddings that I wasn't able to attend.
• I know what my ex is doing on any given day.
• I know that two former classmates hooked up at our class reunion last year while one of the two was still in a relationship.
• I know that entirely too many people in this world do not understand the correct usage of there, they're, and their.
• I know people log a lot of hours on farmville when they should probably be working.

 

These are things that I can live with and not feel the great urge to gossip about.

 

What I can't live with and simultaneously try to be a good person? The Oversharers.

 

The guy who has an affair on MY friend.  Who, on the very day the divorce is finalized changes his formerly hidden relationship status to "in a serious relationship" with the other woman.  The guy who boasted of his 1 year anniversary with this same woman when his marriage failed only 10 months before.  The guy who has now proposed to this woman.  The woman who leaves messages on his status decrying her luck at finding such a classy and wonderful man. 

 

The girl, who I can't place from my past but who befriended me.  The girl who over the late summer months went on a status update frenzy posting about how it is never okay to hit someone, and how it is a strong woman who walks away from a bad relationship.  Her status changed from in a relationship to single in between these posts.  Daily posts were pro-female voicing how she was better off without that loser.  Then today she reveals she is engaged.  And none of her other friends seem surprised in their posts?!?

 

It is my *friends* like the above who make daily posts that send my brain off to crazy land while I try and figure out how their lives play out.  It takes emails from Gina to remind me that it is not appropriate to email these people and ask, why in the name of monkeys are you airing out your life decisions.  But, while you are airing out these happenings, could you pretty please explain more because, seriously, you are giving my overactive imagination just enough rope...

 

It makes me very happy that I was not apprised of such social networks while I was dating.  The *official* relationship status on Facebook has me utterly confused.  In my life, we had the DTR (determine the relationship) talk prior to using the term boyfriend or girlfriend.  Do you now ask the other person if you are facebook official, or do you wait for them to change their status first?  And how do you deal with the friend status after a breakup?  Do you stay friends?  Do you block your ex?  How many days do you leave pictures up?  Oh the insanity.

 

I am not complaining as without facebook I would feel completely out of the touch with the world.  Also, I would miss such gems as the *like* button of which my favorite use was when a friend's status was *liked* when he went from being in a relationship to being single.  Nothing says, "Dude that girl was a lifesuck" more than liking a breakup. 

 

What I need?  Is a way to subtly convince these people to write a blog so I can get to the bottom of this madness.  Without them knowing I care of course.

 

Is that too much to ask?

 

I am the only one that feels this way?

Quick. How many phone numbers do YOU know by heart?

Do you remember when the sole source of telephone communication was the home phone? 
I remember being so very very excited that my parents gave me my own phone line in high school.  That same phone line is now the fax line for my Dad's business.  (Justin R. Timberlake faxes important shit daily.)
I can easily remember when my friends in high school had pagers because cell phones were like iPads... the cool new thing that you wanted but your parents told you were too expensive for a child your age.  And yes, I am looking through my cheap ass rose colored glasses and am pretending that 80% of students at my old high school do not actually own iPads, humor me, I am old and cheap.
Now?  I can barely function without the use of my cell phone.  My husband told me in the nicest way possible that he could that I may have a slight problem with technology rage and that normal people do not react to slow internet uploads with such fury.  Personally, I feel that he is overreacting to my overreacting, but that is a post for another time.
My beloved loved trusty Blackberry was murdered over Labor Day weekend.  Actually the judge ruled it involuntary phoneslaughter, but added on depraived indifference to appease me.  Regardless, I was awarded little for the pain and suffering caused by hours of emailing and adding lost phone numbers into my new phone. 
I honestly know 5 numbers by heart.  3 of those belong to my parents and 1 to my husband.  Sad. (Justin R Timberlake's number is NOT the 5th, but hopefully soon.)
So, here it is about 3 weeks later and I am about to go through this misery AGAIN. 
I bought a Garminfone because I figured getting a phone and a Gramin map direction thing all in one was a sweet deal and for once in my life I might have some cool tech gadget that none of my friends had.
Joke's on me.  This phone sucks ass.
The phone has, in it's lifetime dropped 20+ calls, most of which were to my mother and I could look past that, but really?  Also, rings when it wants to.  Randomly locks itself and wont let me back in. 
I HATE YOU PHONE.

So, question is now... what kind of phone should I get?
*Hint, if you answer iPhone I will come through the computer and strangle you... my company won't use iPhones for work email, blah blah blah.
Help... anyone?  I would really like something with cool applications, but honestly if I can keep a call connected 100% of time I won't complain.
Also, Glee?  How I have missed you.
And you too Justin R Timberlake.

Stabby rant disguised as Throwback Thursday

You remember when you were young and used to pull stupid pranks on unsuspecting people?
No?
Liar...
OK, remember when you were young and used to toilet paper people's houses? 
Ya, someone out there remembers this.
You know how you purposely determined which one of your friend's parents would be the least likely to flip the F out and call the cops prior to your selection of target houses to which, ahem, damage property with quilted double-ply softness? 
Or which house you could call after 10pm and ask for someone whose name sounded *almost exactly* like a venereal disease?
You know how you pulled these pranks on people YOUR OWN AGE????

...breathe in, breathe out, count to ten...

What the shit is wrong with teenagers today?  Can't play with people your own size, eh?  Have to bring in total strangers into your world of no responsibility, adderall sustaining, no PE class required lives, do you now?

On my way back from a lovely lunch with Gina and some other friends, about a mile from my office I turned onto a residential side street, in the ghetto where I work.  A narrow street with parked cars on both sides, as I was about half way to the stop sign a truck turned onto the same street going in the opposite direction.  He pulled behind a parked car to let me pass, and as I passed I showed my gratitude the Texas way... I raised my fingers (all, not the middle one only) off the steering wheel in a *waving* manner and nodded my head.  About half a second later as I passed this car... WAPOW.  I jumped and then looked to my left and saw slimy grossness on my window.  The POS had an even more childish/worthless POS in the backseat who EGGED my car.
I am twenty f*ing nine years old and my car was egged. 
I feel certain there are better ways to protest the eggs will put you in the hospital thanks to bad food regulation movement.  But apparently donating spoiled eggs to your children is the route parents have taken in my town.  Awesome.
In the 2 minutes it took me to get to the office parking lot from the moment of impact, the egg had baked to a hard boiled state on the side of my car.  Thanks Texas weather.  I drove the entire way home after work with the window down because, FYI, when you try and remove almost dry egg white and yolk from a car window, it smears and becomes cloudy and completely opaque.
I wanted to turn the car around and go pull them out of the truck one by one by their ears, but then I remembered that A) I am a 29 year old woman, not my Grandfather and B) I work in the ghetto... these people probably had other *weapons* in the car besides eggs.  I also considered suing, but you know, I have no idea who these punks are and I am busy and shit. 
Then I called B who went bat shit crazy telling me how the paint would come off my car if the egg dried and I had to do something about it right.this.second.  Way to calm me down there bud.  I knew I married you for a reason.
So the moral of the story is... I guess.. teenagers should be chained to their basements/desks/kitchen tables until they are forced off the parent's payroll.
Bonus moral?  Two crazies in one marriage causes unnecessary stress.Most of the egg came off in the car wash by the way, but I was a nervous wreck all afternoon anyway.

Happy long weekend you guys.  And stay away from eggs.

The day the internet news sites died

Are there really no more trustworthy news sources out there?

I gave up on CNN a few months back when I read 3 articles in one day with the exact same story only with different titles. 

Fow News?  I don't remember when I gave that up.

Huffington Post?  There were no less than 2 stories on Elizabeth Hurley that didn't involve her significant other with a hooker.  Relevancy?  Also, a recent article mentioned a photo of Bethenney Frankel was the first such shot since Bryn's birth.  Um, no, she was on the cover of a magazine 3 weeks post baby.  C'mon Huff Post.

But today is the day the internet news died for me. (and no spell check, I will NOT capitalize "internet")

People Magazine, oh how I will miss you.  But seriously.  I read this this morning on your website.

Hair cascading over her shoulders... WTF?  Are we practicing for the Emmy recaps?  It was a MUG SHOT you douchenugget.  Do NOT ruin my Sunday morning reading with your delusional grandeur of romance novel fiction writing.

Ugh. 

Does no one take the news seriously anymore?

The one where I am rendered worthless by yoga

At 6:20 this evening I looked at the clock on my work computer and started to close down the open applications.  I grabbed my pink bag and headed to the restroom to change into my yoga gear.  I was meeting Gina at Bikram and due to the class rules, the ones that were shouted at Mr. Bikram from a burning bush somewhere on a mountain, I had to be flat on my back in class at exactly 6:59.  I don't want to rock the yoga boat you know.

I realize left my flip flops at home.

So... I put my heels back on and headed towards my car.  Wearing inappropriately short shorts, a workout top, and heels.  Did I mention that I had to walk across one parking lot and through the loading dock, past 3 waiting semis with large burly men who probably haven't showered in 2 days?  The security guard gave me the once over, but not the "damn girl, where you goin?" look, the "damn girl, what are you thinking?" look. 
Really short shorts.  Shorts that highlight the abundant pasty flesh of my legs that I make me want to apologize to anyone and everyone who has the misfortune of seeing me in.  But Bikram is hot y'all.  Like summer day in hell hot with the humidity of say, Houston.  H.O.T.  So the shorts are the next best thing to a bathing suit, and I have a tad bit more respect for those in my yoga class than to subject anyone to me bending in ridiculous poses in a bikini.  For now at least.

So I walk as swiftly as I can to my car and head out. 

I call my husband to make sure he remembers I wont be home to make dinner.  Mid conversation I get a really awful feeling and as if the last five minutes haven't been humiliating enough, I start my period.
Ugh, I inform my husband because, well I was on the phone with him and wanted him to share in my misery.  I also inform him, I have no feminine products with me, and OMG what the hell am I going to do for 90 minutes bending and stretching in the heat without a tampon?
Husband says I should stop by the gas station.  He clearly doesn't understand the cardinal rule of Thou Shalt Not Be Late To Class This Is A DISCIPLINE YOU ASSHAT!!! 
I don't bother explaining just mention that I should get off the phone and call Gina to see if she has a spare tampon.
She does.  Thank God.

So Bikram starts.  I sweat.  A lot.  And I spend the next 75 minutes wondering why this bending hurts so damn much and how many days in a row I have to do this until I look like the instructor.  Serious body envy.  I am pretty certain it will take more than my next 6 free classes to look like her.  Oh well.

And then somewhere in between the rabbit pose and the roadkill pose, pose #205 of 26, my uterus decides to fight back.  And it hurt like hell.  And I started to focus on praying to be relieved of this pain either through a well-timed fire alarm or death.  My death or the instructor's death, it didn't matter.

The class finally ends and I escape to the outdoors.  A quick drive home and one lime coconut water later, I thought I was feeling better.  And then I buckled over in pain. 

Husband brought me 3 Tylenol and a cookie and I took my dinner of champions outside because I was cold in the air conditioning, and proceeded to promptly puke.  Seriously.  Bikram will f*ck with your system.  I think this is where the weight loss comes in.  The inability to consume anything for 12 hours after class.

And then I did the most logical thing I could think of.  I dyed my hair. And showered.

So now I am going to call it a night and pray to sweet baby Jesus and possibly Mr. Bikram to please please let this entire day have been a dream.  Or at the very least to remind me to pack my flip flops tomorrow.

How I found out my dog was smarter than me

Or at least more frugally-minded.  Is that right?  Or Frugal minded.  Or cheap.  Whatev.

Our lack of Shoesday posts can be chalked up to one of two things. 
1. We have had it up to HERE with the shoe cults, or
2. We are lazy.

I will take 1 AND 2 for the win Alex. 

I haven't quit shoe clandom yet, but if I don't drink the kool-aid soon, I imagine they will off me sooner rather than later. 

I bought a pair of shoes in July because I didn't follow the rules.  Because the rules were so super clear shoe selling people!   Which rule? The 5 days no takesies backsies even if you ask for a new selection pay up now bull crap.  That rule.  CoughNigerianScamCough.  What, wrong country?

I thought I actually liked them.  They went with outfits I didn't already have a designated shoe for.
I wore them to work twice and both times I came home with unfortunately putrid smelling wet feet nurturing blisters that resembled oil coated dead jelly fish in the Gulf.  But I wanted to like them.  I really did.  So much that when I cleaned out my closet, (well let's just say I picked up the crap on the floor), I refrained from tossing them in the Give Away pile. 

Then one evening as I recovered from a terribly hard day of playing on the interwebs and emailing Gina, as I stalked people through Facebook and watched a rerun of Bones for the 4th time, I heard this weird scraping sound.  Scraping like fingernails on rubber.  Cause you know, clearly you are annoyed daily by that sound...

And there was Blue chowing down on the heel of my shoe.  I would take a picture, but I left my camera at my in-laws.  Likely story, I know.

And that was the last pair of shoes I have bought from the Bieber Lover and the Other Shoe Gang.  And the last one I intend to buy. 
I know, I know, the cost of gas driving to the shoe store plus the shoe prices and often sparse selection of non rubbery, non-velcro including shoes surely will cause me to eat my words.  And you might be right.  But I am officially on sabbatical from online shoe buying. 

And also in the market for a rubber based toy for the dog.  We are now down 1 pair of shoes and 2 garden hoses.  Also a rug and 5 rubber balls.  And a partridge in a pear tree.

Suggestions?

Bad Dates

This post is inspired by Mommy Needs A Nap.

I was not a big date person, but I went on a few.  Bad dates seemed to abound in college.
In fact, I had a string of bad dates one year in college.  All of which were *set-up* dates for a sorority/fraternity event.

Date 1 ~
My sorority held an annual paint/water fight party.  If memory serves, the paint portion was food coloring and solely included to get the party idea past the alumni who were drunk enough to believe that we wanted to have a party to express our artistic sides, not that we were really looking to wear bikinis and wet t-shirts and get it sponsored by our annual dues.  We had water guns and college bodies.  Guys were lining up to attend this party, so when a friend told me her BF's roommate wanted to go, I said I would take him. 
Our friend invited me to her apartment for poker night so I could meet the guy before the event.  I was, as expected, a few drinks over the sober limit, and all I remembered was that he was about my height and skinny. 
Date night arrives and I showed up to his house.  A guy with spiky blonde hair and glasses answered the door.  I said, "Hi I am here to pick up *Eric*, is he around?"
Guy at door says, "Ya, I am Eric.  We met last night."
I say, "Oh, I am sorry, I was drunk.  I thought you were taller."  That was all that came to mind.  He didn't like me much after that.  I wonder why.

Date 2 ~
I was asked as a date to fraternity event.  By a friend.  I couldn't screw this up, right?  Well, I did.  It wasn't all my fault though.  I had a semi-crush on this friend and decided that maybe tonight was the night to make a move.  To gain enough courage, I drank a few beers on the bus on the way there.  (It was a party bus, I wasn't arriving via public transportation.)  I thought it would be best to make my move near the end of the night, so I didn't look desperate during the party.  I spent some time mingling with friends and hanging by the bar in an attempt to not be clingy.  It worked.  I failed to notice that my date was spending the party hanging around a cute brunette that lived 3 doors down my freshman year.  When it came time to head back, he asked if I wouldn't mind sitting with his friend on the bus.  I must have looked confused, so he whispered to me "I am hoping to hook up with *Kendra* tonight, and so I was planning on sitting with her.  I knew you would be ok with it.  Thanks for coming tonight!"  Whoops, didn't see that one coming.  At least I didn't try to make a move.

Date 3 ~ 
A few weeks later, we had another sorority party.  I needed a date.  Again.  So I asked my roommate if her new guy had any friends that might want to come along.  She asked, and came skipping into my room later that day and told me she had found me a date.  Steve. 
All week long, people would ask if I had a date yet, and who it was.   I always replied, "yes, I am taking Steve."  This was met by confused looks.  I then would always say "I don't know him either.  He is a random." 
We had a pre-party at my apartment.  My date and roomie's date were late to arrive.  By the time they got there, everyone was referring to him as "Random Steve."  To.his.face.  He was a little dense though and got over it fast.
At the party, he started to kind of get on my nerves, and he was definitely not someone I wanted to repeat date, but I was being nice.  He brought me a drink and put his hand on the small of my back.  I didn't think anything of it until he says "Are you wearing a girdle?" Whoops, I forgot I was wearing the generic version of Spanx Thongs with a waist band that came to my rib cage.  I probably turned beet red.
On the bus, (always a bus) on the way home, I was definitely not feeling it.  I was trying to be nice, but he was getting too close.  Luckily for me, my friend in the seat in front of us was having a hard night and was turned around talking to me in tears.  Her BF was arrested at the party for serving alcohol to minors (me and her, probably).  While I was consoling her, Steve leans in and says, "I really want to makeout with you right now, but I feel like it is bad timing.  What do you think about later?"  Ugh.  "Um, I don't think it is going to happen tonight buddy.  Sorry."

And those are my stories.  And having re-read them, I realize now, the bad part was mainly my fault and alcohol induced... I wonder why that never occurred to me before?

I've Got the Fever

... Not of the Bieber strain. 

Worse. 
Maybe.

The baby fever.  It is awful.  I really need some prescription strength Excedrin No Babies, but the stupid HEB monopoly here doesn't seem to carry it.

I don't know where this is coming from.  Seriously.  I have a few friends with bambinos, and toddling poopypants, but it is not like I am surrounded by upchucking mini humans all day.  Husband and I decided last year that we would start trying to have a baby around June of this year, but that was before I got a new job that I actually like.  We decided when I ripped up my contract with the devil (read: quit my last job) that I did not want to have a baby during the first year I worked at the new place.  Pregnant during part of that year, sure, baby, no.  But here I am 3 months into the job and I am starting to dream babies.

Being the rational person I think I am, I have made a list of baby vs. no baby

No Baby:
Ugly babies - Don't say all babies are cute.  You know damn well there are some ugly babies out there.  I don't want anyone's pity when I birth ET's long lost cousin
Ovulation charts  - My graph drawing stage came and went with Advanced Economics in college
Weight gain - The most successful I have ever been at weight loss was 8 pounds.  Something tells me I will gain more than that with a baby
Diapers - gag me
Delivery - I've read Breaking Dawn...just because Husband isn't immortal doesn't mean I will have better luck. 
Infertility - My husband claims to have suffered from Blunt Testicular Trauma as a child.
The Obvious - Pregnancy and child raising is just plain scary

Baby -
Maternity Clothes/Eating A Lot - so excited about this
Baby - *most* are so dang cute!
Maternity leave - 3 months to hang with a kid and still have a job to go back to.

As you can see, I am really trying not to want a baby right now.  But just like dieting, my efforts amount to a massive fail. 

Advice?

It's Hurricane Season Again

Sorry about our extended absence.  I would like nothing more than to tell you we have been busy doing important things, but that isn't the entire truth.  Gina has been busy self medicating from the wedding planning crazies, and I have spent the last 2 nights cleaning up the house after the natural disaster.

The weathermen get very excited every year during hurricane season.  If a hurricane appears to be destined for any part of the Texas coast, we are doomed and will surely be cursed with flood level rains.  Never mind that the Texas coast is like huge, and at best my hometown received an inch of rain during each of the last few hurricanes.  We are nothing here in Texas if not dramatic.

So naturally, I wasn't expecting to be cleaning up after a natural disaster yesterday evening.

My house was toilet papered.  Interiorly, which is totally a word.  It was obviously an inside job. And for the record, this was only equivalent to 1/4 of the total toilet paper I cleaned up.  I was a little too angry to reach for the camera until after it was nearly cleaned. 

But the *bastard* wasn't done.

We had to glue the metal *life saving device* back on so the treadmill would work.  Which means I am totally screwed if I ever fall while running.  It is almost inevitable that I will be scalped by treadmill. Exercise really is going to kill me.

I worked my deductive reasoning skills honed by years of crime drama TV and came to the conclusion that the bite marks resemble the dog more than the husband.  To be sure though, I called his office and confirmed with his secretary that he was in the office all morning. 

But how can I be mad at this face?

He's just too damned cute. 
And also he is currently humping his bed.  Fantastic.

I promise we will be back in full force during July.  With a wedding on the horizon, I foresee tons of blog worthy material. 

(Out of thin) Air Quotes

While we all patiently await Gina's return with real blog worthy material, I thought I would send the weekend off in style with a post inspired by my lunchtime internet surfing.  Friday I ran across a post about favorite movie quotes that you have inadvertently incorporated into your everyday verbage. 
I really couldn't think of too many, but I did think of some quotes I only wish I had the opportunity to say. 
You will notice that my favorite movies below are not necessarily what the *cool* kids have in their movie repetoire, but I love them just the same.  As in, I own the VHS and DVD of these movies even though I can quote almost the entire movie from memory.  And once the new movie format comes out, the one where you scroll through your movie library on the palm of you hand, I will purchase that version of these movies too.  I haven't bought into Blue Ray yet, so I think I am skipping it all together.

Here goes.  Let me know if you know the movie.  Some are way more obvious than others.

We have weak trees
Monkeys brains, though popular in Cantonese cuisine are not often found in Washington DC
If the hardware store had been open next door I would have bought a knife and killed myself
I'd like the chipper chicken.
Would you say I have a plethora of pinatas?
One plus one plus two plus one.  No, it was one plus two plus one plus one.
You keep saying that word.  I don't think it means what you think it does
If you care to join me, we are sleeping from left to right tonight
Have fun storming the castle
You don't just dig into a black salad, you got to play with it first
I was thinking later you could kiss me on the veranda.  The lips would be fine.
Anyone want a peanut?
Pretty soon, a woobie isn't enough.  Then you are out on the street trying to score an electric blanket
It was a life and death situation.  After he died, I had a life.
Here lies Walter Fielding.  He bought a house and it killed him
If I had known the people on the third floor, I would have gone to visit them
Repent... Recoil...Reverse
My teeth feel soft.  I can't make a fist.


There was some decent television on this weekend, so my head was full of my favorite movie quotes.  Any additional ones I should add?

Also, GO FROGS!!!!

I can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone compose a themed post, so I figured that today we would play "Fun with online news reports."

But first, since we have been failing in our frequency of Shoesday posts, I thought I would do a brief shoe update.  I am no longer drinking the ShoeFab ShoeDazzle kool aid.  Actually, I am more like binge drinking the kool-aid, so consider June (so far) as a non-imbibing Tuesday.  I got crap. 

My replacement ShoeFab gave me

of which I am considering, however the website says these are red, but my eyes say these are an atomic shade of fashion suicide, so I am on the fence. Naturally.

I did perform an experiment with ShoeDazzle though.  In my "response/comment" section of my replacement email, I decided to only write "conservative." My theory is that our nice little friend from Shoe Dazzle spends his time reading blogs rather than reading comments and therefore a computer program looks for key words only.  So when I said "NO CORK!!!" the computer read "cork" and ignored the "no" like a acne ridden 8th grader selling hair extensions at a mall kiosk. 

I will let you know what happens.

Anywho, back to the news stories gripping Americans... or just me.

2 Year old Indonesian smoker.

Ya, you heard that right.  A fat nugget baby in Indonesia is addicted to cancer sticks and smokes upward of 40 per day.  Let's discuss, shall we.  Here are my votes for the most *disturbing* aspects of the story:

1. How the F did this kid learn to blow smoke rings?  I was an honors high school graduate who couldn't figure out how to inhale properly (granted, I give up on things easily, so I tried like twice) and this baby who can't even tie a shoe or write his name can blow rings?  That is kind of awesome in a seriously sick and perveted way.

2. The kid is HEFTY.  Like 10 year old weight range fat at the age of 2.  What kind of cigarettes is he smoking?  I thought smokes caused appetite suppression.  Clearly he only smokes when he nurses, and he needs to consider hitting the bottle like no more than 4 times a day.

3. The article says he is a product of his environment.  And that environment is what exactly?  The 5th ring of hell?  This is why you don't bring babies to bars. 

4. The Mother doesn't know how to handle his cravings because he goes into a complete shit-fit when she denies him his after-boob smoke.  He is going to be a holy terror as a teenager.

Supreme Court on Miranda Rights

I usually abstain from discussing politics, generally because I think most people are stupid and I hate to argue with stupid people.  But as I don't have much else to say today, here are my thoughts on this ruling.

My understanding is that after being read Miranda rights, you must verbally state that you wish to remain silent and/or ask for an attorney.

1. Law and Order just went off the air after 20 seasons and has been televised on like 10 channels in the last 10 years.  If you haven't seen an episode I don't know what to think of you, but anyone who has watched an hour or so of some of the best television ever knows that you have to ASK for an attorney.  Like, use your big convict words and ASK.

2. The cops can question you all they want about whatever crime you are being accused of UNLESS you ask for an attorney *I am like 70% certain of this* so by keeping your mouth shut and not saying anything means they can keep going.  If you ASK for an attorney, they shut the hell up.  Or get really mad and slam the table while a skinny psychologist gives you the once over from the other side of the two-way mirror.

3. You can remain silent in 2 ways.  By actually not saying anything, or by saying you invoke your right to not say anything.  Meaning, not say anything more than you are invoking your right. 

This is not rocket science people.  It shouldn't take the Supreme Court to tell you how to NOT admit to a crime you did or *didn't* do.  What is really strange is that I was fairly certain that Adam Schiff and Co. proved this like 4 years ago.  Keep up America. 

Bethenny Frankel and her unnatural post-baby body

I am not pregnant, nor have I ever been, but I want to stab her for this.  Seriously?  She looked better at 8 months preggo than I do today. 

Speidi separation

Can we say publicity stunt?  Yes, it has been 20 minutes since we last heard Tweedle Dumbshit and Post-Op Barbie tried to have one of the 3 people who care arrested for, well, caring, so it comes as no surprise that a press release was written to announce their separation.  Oh, and Queen of Plastic has a new reality show filming involving her and a roommate that is not her husband, so it was only a matter of time.  Oh oh and she mentioned the Bearded One's propensity to create bad press, so it is only natural to create more press of your own to discuss your bad press.  I feel a migraine coming on...

**

While Google-ing Spencer Pratt to find the link to this article, I came across this. 

Someone get that girl some Beano.  She is doing asshole yoga in public.

The Bombshell is as dumb as she looks

Cheating puts food on the table. 

Also, you say racist, I say tomato...

I must have missed the explanation of why she is called a Bombshell.  Anyone?

And on a serious note, there is the oil rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico which is leaking a truly horrific amount of oil into the Gulf.  Born and raised in Texas, I spent weeks every summer at the beach, and granted we have always been on the wrong side of the Mississippi to be blessed with white beaches, but our golden brown beaches were just as wonderful.  I am truly heartbroken over these events and am horrified of what this leak may do to my beloved Gulf.  As the daughter of an oilman, I can say nothing more than I wish peace for the families of those who died in the explosion, a speedy recovery to the fishing industry essentially shuttered by this disaster, and pray that my beach will heal and be cherished by my kids and their kids for years and years.  Also, I hope there is a special place in Hades for the asshat who made the call to continue operations rather than follow procedure and cease drilling when the problem was first found.  You sir (or ma'am)... there are no words.

Am I missing any other *breaking news* items that deserve comment? 

Oops, almost forgot:

This guy is a douche, and possibly a criminal. Again.

It's my birthday and I will stay home and watch Lost if I want to

Sunday is my birthday.  My last birthday in my 20s.  For some reason, I think turning 30 will be better than turning 29, but I have no rational thinking to back that up. 
About 3 months ago I went semi-vegetarian.  I gave up meat for Lent, and have since rarely eaten any meat (chicken, beef, pork) and found that I am pretty ok with my new diet.  I have my reasons and I wont bore any of you with them.  No worries.  So my Husband scheduled a birthday dinner Friday night with friends.  At Fogo de Chao.  A churrascaria (all you can eat meat on carved from a stick).  He has been dying to go.  I had the $20 salad bar.  It was a fantastic salad bar, but $20?  A little steep.  I think it is subtle payback for setting our wedding date and subsequently our wedding anniversaries 3 days prior to his birthday. 
Also, I have felt teterribly guilty all week long.  I can't for the life of me come up with something to ask my husband for as a birthday gift.  He has a stellar reputation as a great gift giver, and he is really tormented by my lack of participation in continuing his streak.  Any other given month I could probably think of at least 5 things I wanted to go splurge on, but this month?  I can think of nothing.  I hate to waste a good opportunity, but I am truly stuck.  How can I convince him the best birthday gift ever was given by ABC in scheduling the Lost series finale on my birthday? 
I do actually have a wish list in mind,  but I don't think he will be rushing out the door to purchase:
Liposuction
A semi-permanent housekeeper
An all you can eat mac and cheese buffet that appears nightly and cleans itself up
A gnome to drive my car to the washtub once a week
A baby to hold and squish and love (but not actually my child, preferably a child I can hand off to someone that owns it when they cry)
Chips, queso, and a margarita... actually, he may be able to come through on this one.

ps... I may have cheated on ShoeDazzle and ShoeFab, but KK cheated first... to be updated tomorrow with pictures!
Happy weekend everyone!

C

Open Letter To My DVR

Dear DVR,


I am sorry for whatever I did to make you treat me this way. When you didn’t record Glee on Tuesday, I was only slightly upset. And even though Doogie Howser was guest starring and the next day everyone was saying how this episode made them cry, I thought to myself, It’s okay, anyone can have a minor slip up. I love my DVR unconditionally even through all its faults.

But last night, DVR. Last night was experienced a serious setback in our relationship. When I take my boyfriend out to celebrate his work accomplishments on the same night as the 2-hour season finale of Grey’s Anatomy, I expect you to be there for me. I trust you. When I sneakily check my FB on my phone during dinner while N is in the bathroom and everyone’s status reads “OMG THIS IS THE BEST GREY’S EVER!” I put faith in you that soon I will be watching this epic episode. Sure, maybe I was the first to break the trust when I checked to make sure you would be recording said episode before I left the house, but I never expected you to tell me such a boldfaced lie. I can still hear you mocking me “Oh, you want me to record this show right here? The one highlighted in red? Well joke’s on you!”

I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you have not been planning this sabotage for months and purposely skipped the biggest episode of the season. I am hoping this is just your time of the month and next week we will back on good terms. I still love you, but I don’t like you very much right now.

~Gina

P.S. Yes, I realize I can watch it online but sitting at my computer for 2 hours sounds miz.

P.P.S. I will stab anyone who writes any spoilers in the comments. Thanks!

Deep Dark Confessions by C

I have a confession. 

I have a massive crush. 
An obsession, really. 

You know the feeling you got as a 5th grader when the first boy you thought was cute smiled at you? 

Or, as my new favorite nemesis Ke$ha would say, makes my heart beat like an 808 drum?  If I had a basement, I would be all over slumber parties with it.

What is this wanderlust I speak of, you ask?




Office Supply Stores.

Seriously.

It is my candy store and I am an unrestrained kid.  With a credit card and an endless supply of crack staples.

It is something about the smell, and the shiny plastic report covers that make me, well, ahem, happy.

And mutli-colored gel pens, and bright super sticky post-its and I could go on and on. 

The worst part?  I am the least organized, messiest accountant known to man.  Ask Gina.  I subscribe to the more papers makes it look like I am busy theory.  Part method to my madness, part where the F did I just put my pen chaos reigns supreme in my world. 

Gasping for air under the leaning tower of various SEC filing drafts on my desk are shiny, metallic paperclips and my coveted white-gum eraser.

Because everyone knows the white erasers are far better than the pink school erasers.  Right?

Please, please tell me this happens to other people?

Where Am I?

Quick mini post here. 

Scene from my living room two minutes ago:

I just got home and am laying on the couch and have turned on the TV
Husband from doorway: Lost is on tonight
Me: I know, but there is only 5 minutes left, so I thought I would watch a little bit of Glee and see what all the fuss is about.
Husband: Oh, Glee, ya, I have been wanting to tape that.
Me: crickets...

My question is, who kidnapped my husband and replaced him with the guy who is currently in the shower?  I am not sure I am complaining, but I need to know whether I should sleep with a weapon nearby...

Why Texas Rocks

Sorry for the no-post Friday.  We couldn't be dragged away from the requisite beer drinking, fried food eating euphoria known as Fiesta. 
And...it was also my last day at my old job, so I spent the day celebrating with my two new besties, Marg and Rita.  We had some serious quality time.  It continued into the morning. 
Also, for the record, Marg & Rita have a serious out-of-no-where sucker punch that causes migraine like pain many hours later.  Don't say I didnt warn you.
Back to Fiesta.
Last week I worked the Armadilla Egg booth at NIOSA, pronounced {n-eye-o-sa}, if you say {knee-o-sa} we can no longer be friends.  NIOSA, to tourists and ticket holders is the crowd equivalent of hell, outpopulated only by the ticket booth at a Bieber concert pre-sale.  Don't believe me?

And this is only a small portion of the 4 square blocks of booths and madness.  Seriously, its a claustrophobic nightmare.  And the best thing ever. 

'Dilla Eggs come from the vag of armadillos.  See picture below:

If it is true that happy cows make good cheese, happy armadillos make some damn good eggs.  And what sombrero wearing 'dillo is anything but lovin life?

Just kidding about the eggs being pushed from the vagine of senior felicitades here.  'Dilla eggs are fried jalapeno poppers, and are quite possibly the lifeblood of most South Texans. 

 Note, it was really the Armadilla egg booth.  We Texans like to uncomplicate our words and spell phonetically.  Arm A Dill A. 

Fiesta in general has the world's best food, and NIOSA didn't disappoint.  Basically, anything you have ever wanted is battered, deep fried, and coated with powdered sugar. 

 

Or salsa

You gain like 5 pounds the moment you buy your ticket.  And you smell like beer for at least 3 days.  Like I said the.best.thing.EVER.

But, in case you are somehow not completely entranced in an alcohol induced coma, and you dare to think NIOSA is a poor man's version of Mardi Gras, you would be wrong.  Stupid wrong.   We got class, baby.  Like blinged-out class:

Cartier and Tiffany encrusted 80 pound trains and crowns and sparkly fabulousity. Beer smell included.

Seriously, if you haven't already booked your trip to Texas for the 4th week in April 2011, you are missing out. I will save you a sangria slushie... maybe.

Cholesterol laden hugs -
C

Internet stalkers are creepy, don't you think?

I went to college in the days of AOL Instant Messenger, Yahoo Mail, and Napster. My dorm room bed was lofted above my desk and my roommate and I strategically placed a mirror across the room so that we could determine who was trying to reach us via email or IM without leaving the comforts of our bed where we sat watching actual music videos on TRL. I set my Yahoo Mail up to *moo* while my roomie set hers up to *oink* when we got a new email. We were the shit. {Gina: Please tell me you are kidding and that you and your roomie did not have coordinating farm animal notifications.}

{Me - Dead serious. The Guy who yelled Yahooooo sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard and my only other option was a chime... The chime could be muffled by MTV, and then it was possible to go 20 minutes without knowing someone was emailing me. I mean, what if there was a *real* emergency and I missed it because I wasn't alerted instantaneously?}
I wasn’t in college when MySpace was a big deal. In fact, I knew nothing of My Space’s existence until 2007, and by then, it was a little late to join the club.
And when Facebook became all the rage with my friends, I abstained. I knew a girl at work who was distracted by it all day and never got any work done and I just couldn’t see the appeal. Then, one night after one or five glasses of wine with the girls, someone blurted out “Did you see so-and-so is married with a baby on the way, and he is still commenting on his ex’s wall?” First, I was all, “Whoa, he is married? And is expecting a spawn?!?” And then I was like, “commenting on her wall?” Is this some new sex thing I don’t understand? WTF is happening?
Then, one of my fav girlfriends grabbed her laptop and introduced me to the world of Facebook. I was enthralled. Obsessed. But not enough to have my own Facebook page.** See I am really scared of super creepy internet stalkers. Not just the crazy pedophile axe-murdered types, the ones who troll friends of friends on Facebook all day to see what kind of karma was bestowed upon the popular girl in high school who had all the boys and treated everyone else like crap. See, I know these people exist because I am one. Not the popular girl with boyfriends galore, the creepy internet stalker.
No worries, I am not preying on your children or your husband or your mom or whatever. I am merely trying to make sure that what my Momma said was true. “They may be popular now, but it will be a shame for them when they wake up after college and realize their best days are over.” And so far, my Momma is the smartest person on the planet. She is also on Facebook, which kind of scares me. But you know who else is on Facebook? The skinny B from the neighboring high school who got knocked up in college, hid the baby bump from her family and only admitted it while in labor at the hospital and on the phone, long distance, to her ex and baby daddy. And she friended me. Karma may be a bitch, but so am I. And I have access to all her pictures. It’s creepy.

Also, from here on out, I will be going by C. I am not creative and am getting tired of being referred to as NB2 when there is no longer anyone referred to as NB1.

Most importantly, if you don't already read www.thespohrsaremultiplying.com, you are crazy. but please head over there and give them some love. One year ago today was tragic for this family, and they could all use some internet hugs!

~C