How Am I Doin'?

Carly's Making Me Look Bad By Writing Fancy Birthday Posts to My Husband

2007-09-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Neil's birthday. It's hard to plan a really good birthday for someone when you'll be traveling that day. So Neil, I apologize that you didn't have a cake, or a steak, and that I gave you some Tater Mitts that don't work and wrote you a song I sang off key.

I have to say we did do a lot of fun things on our trip though. We made a list on the back of the airplane barf bag of the things we want to do in our life. Neil wants to write a book and travel to Turkey. I want to ride a bike somewhere cool and milk a cow.

And by "ride a bike somewhere cool and milk a cow" I don't mean ride a bike to somewhere cool and when I get there milk a cow, but ride a bike AROUND/ON/IN somewhere cool--i.e. ON Abbey Road but not TO Abbey Road (that would be against my exercising policy)--and also milk a cow at some point in my life, somewhere cool or not cool, I don't care.

We also bought a framed tile that says "Neil's Kitchen" and stood in line for a photo-op with a Budweiser Clydesdale. Unfortunately, certain parts of the Clydesdale were too exposed for us to get a decent (literally) picture.

So if you haven't been to San Diego, you really should go. And take me with you, but not on your birthday--unless you are happy with mediocre celebrations like some understanding husbands who I won't name specifically.

Labor Day Weekend by the Numbers

2007-09-04T08:59:00.000-07:00

# of times I said "I wish we had our camera so we could blog this" as the Oscar Meyer weiner truck pulled into church ahead of us on Sunday: 1

# of peeps from my ward who blogged pictures of it in the parking lot: 2

# of times ate out: 5 (California Pizza Kitchen, Popeye's, Toto's Pizza, McDonald's, Subway)

# of episodes of Oprah watched on TiVo: 4

# of times said "I hate Oprah so much": 37

# of times felt guilty for dragging Neil to a 1940's-film-noir-style rendition of Macbeth we saw at a theater in the woods: 7

# of jars of homemade raspberry jam Neil canned: 9 while I took naps: 2

# of dreams that came true: 2 (mine of cutting Neil's hair and Neil's of buying a rug doctor)

# of 70-year-old men who stopped Neil in Target to ask where he buys his clothes: 1

Rock the Vote: WWYRK?

2007-08-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

Sadly, my last poll drew so few votes that I actually know who each vote belonged to.

Heineken: Neil, Carly, Erika.

Corona: me, Alice.

I know it was about beer...but IT WAS A JOKE, PEOPLE! I was sad to have my (pretend) choice of beer lose to Neil's (pretend) choice. But I guess it's all about image and preference.

But I'm not giving up just because you didn't vote before. I've just decided to introduce my new and ongoing Who Would You Rather Kiss polls since they have been so popular in the past.

So don't let me down--Vote Early.Vote Often.

Terms of Endearment (or Neil wants me to call him Steed)

2007-08-15T19:43:00.000-07:00

There's a road you go down in a relationship and once you get to a certain point, it's hard to go back. Early on Neil started using terms of endearment, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it no matter how hard I tried. And I was really worried about it because I thought he wanted me to. I couldn't even bring myself to refer to him as my boyfriend in his presence. I talked to everyone about my concern. I spent a lot of time looking for ideas on the internet. I even asked advice from my mom who told me I was "just going to have to do it."

Once while visiting Carly, she asked if I had just called Neil "Dear" and remarked on how cute and/or sweet it was and I had to let her down by telling her that no, I'd said Dude. "Dude" was my term of endearment for Neil until we were married and then it became "Husband" and now just "Husb" with an occasional "Mufasa" thrown in.

I don't know what my problem is. Why is it so hard? Maybe it's because I can't recall hearing a lot of terms of endearment used when I was growing up except on TV or by girlfriends who called each other "Hon"--and that's just not something I can get behind/pull off. No offense if that's you (Carrie), but I never did it and I don't think I ever could. However, I believe I mentioned to a friend (Hoss, was this you? I can't remember, but please see comment below re: my memory) that I hated when girls posed for those up close pictures with their cheeks smashed together---and then it wasn't too long before some photos of me in that exact same pose turned up, shattering my outspoken aversion to the cheek-touching-photo. So perhaps I've called you "Hon" and I just don't remember it. I have been told more than once that my "memory is a$$."

So please have some sympathy for Neil and give me some advice on how I can turn my ship around. Thanks in advance.

Cowboy Up

2007-08-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

This is our family motto, as of yesterday. Neil was thinking we needed one after pondering Carly's post re: "Pauls Don't Quit." I'm not sure if Carly was being serious or not about their motto. But that's okay because I don't know if we were either. I'll have to check with Neil on that.

I mean it is a good motto. But I would like to say I had nothing to do with coming up with it. It is totally unrelated to my watching 8 Seconds with my Freshman roommates about 50 times. Nor does it have anything to do with the fact that at the end of that year, I did a choreographed dance--part of which was a scene taken from the wedding in 8 Seconds-- in front of my ward with 3 of my roommates, one of whom thought she could "live the 8 Seconds dream," another who decorated her half of our room with all things Mickey Mouse, and lastly, the roommate we called "Ratgirl" behind her back.

I've really come a long way since then. I would never dream of doing such an immature thing now. My current daydreams consist of doing surprise lip sync performances at a ward talent show. I'm usually lip syncing the lead to "I Hear a Symphony" with friends doing back up, and we are all in our sequined Supremes-style dresses. It's either that or "Never Say Die" by the Dixie Chicks. Usually I'm lip syncing but sometimes I'm really singing because in my daydreams I have a much better singing voice than in real life. And usually I haven't told Neil that I'm going to be performing and he looks up at me with love (because of course I am singing to him) and pride and shock at what an awes voice I have.

I mean I wouldn't really do something like that. It's just my standby daydream. And it's way better than really doing the 8 Seconds wedding dance in front of 300 Freshmen.

"Marcy's Comeback" - Take 7

2007-08-03T12:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to try and catch you up on of what's been going on since my last post 192 days ago, because it would probably be nothing but long and lackluster. It's enough to say that in the last 6 months, I flew across the country for John Wayne's 100th birthday celebration, rolled 3 Yahtzees, and made a tablecloth that was too small for our table, while Neil purchased 4 handy adders, 3 timers, and beat me in all 3 rounds of Dance Dance Revolution at the movie theater arcade.

I mention the Yahtzee thing because I am really into Yahtzee now. Probably because I have the best chance of beating Neil at a game that involves chance. But that's what I get for marrying such a smarty. And he's always really nice about winning...at least since my "Don't be a butt!" tantrum of 2006.

Do you like my new template? I thought if I gave my blog a haircut, so to speak, it might breathe new life into my blogivation. Well, it's time for me to head to lunch where I will eat my sandwich (which better not be mortadella) and my peach, and call my grandmother for my weekly update on Paris Hilton and CourtTV.

Shame on Me

2007-01-23T18:50:00.000-08:00

Neil was nice enough to make me a tracking chart for my New Year's Resolutions so I can check them off when I do them. We're over 3 weeks into January and I still have zero checkmarks on my chart.

I recently sat in my living room floor and pounded down half a pizza, 1.5 donuts, and a Big Gulp of coke. Later I found some donut glaze down my shirt.

I'm considering joining Curves and when I went in tonight for a consultation the lady wrote down the side of my profile paper: Not exercising at all. "Not" and "at all" both underlined 3x.

I refuse to throw away a Krispy Kreme buy one dozen donuts, get one dozen free coupon even though are only 2 of us.

Pizza! Pizza!

2007-01-18T15:10:00.000-08:00

I really want a pizza. I've already secured the address of the closest Little Caesars to my house so I can stop on my way home from work. I haven't had a pizza from Little Caesars in about 15 years and I'm curious whether I'll be disappointed or pleasantly surprised. And will they really only charge me $5? Even in San Francisco? I'm going to find out tonight, my friends.

There is a delish little pizza joint here called Toto's. Yum, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. And if Neil were going to be home for dinner tonight, I might say something like, "Do you think we'll go to Toto's for dinner?" which he has learned means "I want Toto's for dinner." It only took him a year to figure out how I operate. The light bulb came on for him last weekend in Mexico when I repeatedly said, "Do you think we'll go kayaking today?" or "I wonder if we'll go kayaking today."

Anyway, Toto's is too delicious and too expensive for me to rationalize getting alone. I mean, pizza is just not that good reheated so you need to be able to eat the entire pizza in one sitting--plus I like to eat at the restaurant. So tonight, Little Caesars it is.

I know this is a boring post, but I'm trying to get back in the swing of things and not put so much pressure on myself to write only really good posts so much so that I never write anything which is what is happening now. Then every post is like, "Glad you're back!" but of course, I'm not really back. I've been thinking a lot about blogging and eating pizza lately. And I want to keep doing both. So just work with me here.

You Never Know What You're Gonna Get

2007-01-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

So far I have only eaten 19 of the 75 dark chocolate covered cherries that Neil gave me for Christmas. Good thing I haven’t gotten around to making my annual weight loss resolution yet. One of Neil’s resolutions is to go on a walk everyday. Last year he also had the same plan for us. We went twice. This year I can tell he is serious because he has excluded the main obstacle from keeping any exercise resolution: me.

Our holidays were non-stop fun. On New Year’s Eve we ate some steaks and watched videos. We decided we would watch 2 movies and we would each get to pick out whatever he/she wanted regardless of whether or not the other person would like it--then we would watch both. We met up in the checkout line and headed home to watch Little Man and The Devil Wears Prada.

Are you surprised that Neil, who is reading a 1,000 page bio of LBJ and wears cashmere sweaters, wanted to get Little Man? Well, maybe you wouldn't be if you knew of his love for dance movies....but only movies where street dance meets classical dance i.e. Take the Lead or Save the Last Dance. But in the end, Neil chose Little Man (the loaded with extra crap edition) over the new dance release Step Up.

Other highlights of the season included seeing It’s a Wonderful Life and The Wizard of Oz on the big screen, the Nutcracker, prime rib for Christmas dinner and of course, opening awesome presents like an iPod nano and my new swimsuit designed by Esther Williams:

And I thought it was cute that Neil wrapped everything he put in my stocking--even the package of mini travel garbage bags and the roll of quarters. I was less original and just threw the When in Rome CD in his stocking uncovered.

In conclusion, Christmas was fun and Beauty and the Geek starts tonight.

Our House

2006-11-02T18:57:00.000-08:00

After spending an hour online with Carly looking at pictures of her house and helping her rearrange it via instant message, I decided it was time to take some pictures of our little apartment.

Actually I decided this in the middle of changing clothes and got right down to it, which is why in this first picture on the tour I had to hide and you can only see my arms in the mirror.

This is where Neil works. And by works, I mean shuts the door and watches The Wire. And yes, that is a poster of a semi-truck signed by Richard Petty on our bulletin board.

This is where Neil beats me EVERY single Sunday at Boggle.

See the missing patch of paint above the magnetic knife rack? Before I came along there was a hook there where Neil hung his squeegee. He said I could take it down as long as I put it somewhere he wouldn’t have to bend over to get it.

This is where I go with my blanket to watch Gilmore Girls

while Neil cooks me up some supper here.

Someone (Hoss, Skewed), please come visit us.

Maximum Capacity

2006-08-28T21:36:00.000-07:00

You would think if you were getting on a water slide and the all the signs showing the correct sitting position for the 2-person raft showed an adult and a child, you might have second thoughts about hopping in with another adult. But since the lifeguard didn’t stop us, Neil and I figured we’d be fine. Check out the greenish slide in the background of the picture. This is where we almost died at my company picnic.

The ride on the slide is a short one that starts with a steep descent (sort of hidden behind the yellow tube slide), continues up an almost vertical wall where, after you slow down, you then descend down the wall backwards in your raft, over the remaining small bump, and down the ramp. As we waited for a long time on the tall, scary platform, we watched as the sliders in front of us flew up the vertical wall, reaching about 3/4 of the way to the top before the raft stopped and slid down backwards. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited to try out this great and different idea for a water slide!

However as we squeezed into this 2-person raft and descended the first hill, we picked up some serious momentum and flying up that wall was definitely a scary experience. As we came within two feet of the top edge and saw that all there was to protect us from flying off and descending to our death was a wire, Neil yelled "OH MY GOSH!"

Fortunately, by then we were stopping. We descended the wall backwards, hauled butt out of that water park, changed out of our swimsuits behind a towel, and headed off to ride the Grizzly, which did have a sign warning: "people with large proportions might not be able to ride."

Luckily we fit. But that was before we stopped for pizza.

Tasty Like a Raindrop, She's Got the Look

2006-08-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I went through a phase of doing notecard therapy. Notecard therapy is my own invention resulting from my self-appointed therapist status. I feel like I am a perceptive person and if you are having a problem, I can help you get to the bottom of it!

What happens is:

You tell me your problem
I ask you related questions
I get to the root cause of your problem
We talk about it more
I write a notecard with steps to help you and give you a theme song or mantra.

A couple of weeks ago, I realized I had a problem that wasn’t getting solved: my clothes are too tight. I know we are supposed to get rid of stuff that doesn’t fit–not hold on to clothes in the hopes that someday we will lose weight and be able to wear them. I understand the philosophy behind that. However, I got married 7 months ago and have been eating a LOT of delicious food since then. I have been in an adjustment period and things will normalize again.......right? Going up one size isn’t the end of the world and I should just be patient because I can get back down......right? So I came to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be too hasty and rid myself of a lot of possessions I love, I just need a little more time.

Then I came up with the brilliant idea to do notecard therapy on myself. My fruitless search for an index card resulted in a homemade 3x5 manilla folder cut-out entitled "Operation Get Dressed," which is composed of the following steps:

1. Drink 2-3 water bottles (24 oz) full of water during work hours.
2. No more cokes until denim skirt fits again.
3. 1 treat every other day.
4. Smaller portions/no seconds.
5. No food after dinner.
6. 15 sit-ups daily (add 5 per week), 2 walks per week, 1 tennis session per week
7. Sit up straight/better posture (for the illusion).
Theme song: "The Look" by Roxette (It’s good! Not as good as "Joyride" but more applicable).

Operation Get Dressed got started 15 days ago. "How’s it going?" you ask. Well, I’ll tell you.

Water consumption: Not too shabby...not perfect but definitely respectable: B
Coke Drought: Have had 5: D
Treat Schedule: Not perfect, but improved from pre-OGD: B
# & Sz of Portions: A good improvement: B+
No food after dinner: Good job: A-
Exercise: Sit-ups: 3 days, Walks: 1, Tennis: 0: F
Posture: When I think about it, I sit up straighter for 5 minutes or so: D
Overall average: C- (based on a 100 point system)

Frankly, this isn’t very promising considering my morale and conviction lessen with each passing day. Oh well, maybe it is a losing battle. At least this does seem like the most reasonable weight loss method I’ve ever implemented. Other plans I’ve tried in the past include, but are not limited to:

Wrapping torso tightly in saran wrap for a few hours in order to fit into a certain outfit.
Getting a "body wrap" ($75). I was wrapped from head to toe like a mummy, doused with minerals and then forced to exercise for 15 minutes while wearing tight bandages, as the liquid minerals and body toxins leaving my pores dripped into plastic bags that were secured around my feet and hands.
The 3-day diet for obese people needing to drop weight fast to have emergency surgery. This includes following a very strict meal plan with no variation and bringing to work lunches like: 2 hot dogs (no bread), 1 cup cauliflower and 1 saltine cracker.
Drinking 1 oz. of straight vinegar every afternoon and 1 grapefruit a day.
Body for Life
Cleansing my system by eating only vegetables (none white or yellow), fruits (none white or yellow) and meat for 3 weeks and taking at least 12 different herbs/vitamins/enzymes per day.
Work-out videos such as Bellydancing, Paula Abdul’s Get Up and Dance, The 10-Minute Solution, 8 Minute Abs, Yoga & Pilates, Thin Thighs, and Darren’s Dance Grooves.
Discovery Health Channel's national health drive which included being weighed in a public forum and receiving a free trial membership to a gym. I went to the gym twice and wandered around for awhile.

And I feel I should mention unimplemented but revolutionary diet theories such as:

Chewing up delicious but unhealthy foods and spitting them out, and then satiating hunger with something healthy (mine).
Weight loss by body cast (Carly’s).

Hmmmm. Maybe this is a never-ending thing. But I guess for now I’ll just keep on keepin’ on with Operation Get Dressed as I go Na na na na na....

I'm Allergic to My Job

2006-08-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

I don't think it's a coincidence that the day I started working was the day I got allergies. I'm obviously allergic to my job (or I have a Pavlovian sick response to work). In an effort to ward off Neil's attempts to get me to a doctor, I decided to first try an over-the-counter remedy. All I can say is--Thank Heavens for Wal-itin!! Walgreens brand of Claritin has changed my life. My number of sneezes per day is down to two from about 40.

I think I better put some Wal-itin in our 72-hour kit. Now I can't live without it and have it on hand at work and home and just automatically take one with my breakfast. Our stake is really into emergency preparedness right now and so is our home teacher who looked with disdain on our pre-packaged 72 hour kit and suggested that we improve it. oh and get a motorcycle for easy transportation out of the state if necessary. I'm not holding out any hopes for getting a motorcycle, but I did make a lot of jokes about it when it came time to make a list of things we still need. Neil gave me a moment to change my attitude and get serious about the task, during which he came up with the brilliant idea of getting some t-shirts made for our kit that say: "(Our Last Name): Making the Best of It" because then we could totally be on the news.

Top Ten Signs I Got an Awes. Husband

2006-05-31T17:40:00.000-07:00

10. He doesn’t get mad when we are late to church every Sunday because I have to try on 15 different outfits. He just goes in the kitchen and prepares a tiny snack for my purse.

9. He watches old movies with me.

8. He cooks delicious food for me all the time and still doesn’t get mad when I request Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (only when I request No Bake Cookies.)

7. He doesn’t care that all I do is talk about myself and Bogart all of the conversation.

6. He’s obsessed with tiny cameras and has an unbelievable number of cords.

5. He puts delicious treats in my lunch (Cow Tales for example).

4. He gets up at 5:30 in the morning every day with me even though he doesn’t have to.

3. He tolerates Britney songs and let’s me listen to the same Postal Service lineup every single day on the way to work.

2. He refers to himself as Daddy.*

1. His main goal in life is to never have to bend over.

*This is in no way any sort of announcement or anything closely related to one.

A Bald Streetwalker Swims In Our Pool

2006-05-21T16:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, maybe she's not really a streetwalker, but she does wear a wig very similar to Julia Robert's in Pretty Woman. She also gets dressed right when she gets out of the pool, not at her apartment like the rest of us. Obviously, she probably doesn't live in our apartments and that's fine--Who am I to judge? I have been sneaking into pools for the past 5 years, but at least I tried to look like a resident by showing up and leaving in my swimsuit and cover-up. Not the bald streetwalker. She gets out of the pool, puts on her heels, walks over to her chair, gets her wig out of her bag, lays it out on the chair, takes off her swimsuit, and puts on a black bustier. She then stands there lacing it up while we all watch. After she gets the bustier on, she goes into the locker room and emerges 10 minutes later fully clothed and wigged with lots of makeup and big sunglasses on. It's weird!

It's also weird that the really, really old, hunched-over Chinese man whose balcony faces our front door is often standing outside poking a tree with a long stick.

It's nice to know that everyone here is not weird though. There are some kindred spirits. Like the girl Neil and I saw at In 'n' Out, who, after placing her order, walked over to Krispy Kreme, bought and stuffed an entire box of a dozen donuts in her purse, and then walked back over to In 'n' Out to pick up her burger order. I could probably be friends with her--especially since my legs are TOTALLY sore from bowling for one hour yesterday. I know. It's pathetic. I don't even deserve to fit into those pants under my bed. But at least after losing to Neil time and time again at every sport or game we've ever played, I finally beat him yesterday at air hockey.

I Can't Think of a Good Title But I Have to Go Now Because It's Burger Night Which I'm Really Excited About. Read This Post and You'll Understand.

2006-05-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

I wonder if there is anyone out there who will read this or if everyone who ever read my blog has just stopped checking it. I wouldn't blame them. Well, here I am-- partly because of Skewedview's challenge and partly because I feel a little bit of guilt at not having written in so long. After all, this blog did get me a job and a husband.

So I guess I'll just dive in and tell you some of what I have been up to in the last, oh, 3 months or so. As I said, I got a job and I'm working with Alice. Too bad peeps get fired for blogging about their jobs because there is a lot I could tell you. So I'll just divulge this small piece of info: When I started working, I found a card with a phone number under F in the rolodex on my desk for a contact merely listed as "Fat Lady."

I've also been spending a lot of time thinking about, talking about, and eating food. But mostly just eating. And as evidence, I give you the bag under my bed containing 10 pair of pants that I can almost fit in. My mom did tell me if I wanted to be thin, I shouldn't have married Neil who is fixing me 3 delicious meals a day. Although the problem is really not in the number of meals I'm eating, but the quantity I consume for each meal. Mine is not a humble portion. Perhaps last weekend's large burrito, double cheeseburger, fries, cokes, Krispy Kremes, deep dish pizza and ribs were a little much. After all that, I couldn't even make it through Fast Sunday. Around 2:30 in the afternoon, I climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen and scarfed down some leftover chicken salad 2 hours prior to dinner. I guess you could say I lost it.

I've also been doing a lot of reading. My most recent books have been Peace Like A River, Mrs. Dalloway, Atonement, The Wonder Spot, Freakonomics, Home Alone America, The Power of One and The Alchemist. Have you read any of these? Let's talk.

Besides the "my life is comprised by an obsession with food" guilt, I've also been feeling a little guilty about all the piano playing Neil has been asked to do lately. It all started when he was asked if I play by a man who was looking for a pianist at an upcoming baptism. Since we were going to be away, Neil distracted them by saying, "Actually I play, but we're going to be away that weekend." Lucky for me, I have a husband who protects me. Unfortunately for him, that dude remembered and then after asking Neil to play in the joint Priesthood/Relief Society meeting 2 weeks ago, people were literally lined up with pianist requests immediately following that meeting. My light is still under a bushel, and luckily with Neil on my side, it looks like it's going to stay that way.

I've also been doing a lot of learning about marriage and what it takes to be a good wife. The first thing I've learned is: It's a good idea to try and dress like your husband. What you do is just wait until he gets dressed then put on a matching outfit. It's fun and not annoying at all! The second thing I've learned is: When your husband is in the shower... hide! When he gets out, he will eventually start wondering where you went and start looking for you. And it's even better if, when he finds you, you are wearing his clothes. This is not annoying either and never gets old. And if anyone were ever to think this was annoying, then you just threaten to stab him with a letter opener.

I also got a haircut last week. I decided not to return to Jesus/Maggie who, after showing her this photo:

made my hair look like:

So this time I got smart and went to Fifi, who, when I showed her this pic (yes, I will only have hair like Mandy Moore now):

made me look like this:

Just kidding. I really like my haircut now and I only look like Rod when I wake up in the morning.

Anyway, that's it for now. I hope you're all still out there. I plan on sticking around because living in San Francisco and being married to a national-award-winning husband is really supplying me with a lot of material.

Blogging. It's on my calendar. Remind me to tell you how, thanks to my adequately meaty wrists and Neil's freakishly strong lats, we are hoping that someday we'll *have a professional bowler.

*This is just a thought/prediction/hope and in no way any sort of announcement or anything closely related to one.

I'm Learning A Lot

2006-02-24T15:33:00.000-08:00

I have been doing a lot of really important thinking and stuff while I have been hanging around the house lately. Besides thinking about getting a job, I have also been pondering the following...

Tagalongs are the best girl scout cookies. And they are best eaten with the peanut butter side down (facing your tongue). The crappy thing about them is that you think you have a whole box full but really you just have one of those clear trays that pull out containing about 1/4 of the amount of cookies that should be in that box--making one box equivalent to one serving. Maybe you don't think a box equals one serving, but then again you probably don't think one box of macaroni and cheese equals one serving like I do either. Other honorable cookie mentions are the Do-si-dos, thin mints (best frozen) and of course samoas. But frankly, I think samoas have been given too much hype for their quality--and again, enough with the clear plastic tray thing already.

Secondly, I have a love/hate relationship with Oprah. "Hate the person, love the show" are my sentiments actually. While she drives me bonks, she actually has good show topics (sometimes) and has the power to get big name guests. This week was focused a lot on Hurricane Katrina (yawn) so I have been holding on for today which is going to be Part II of "America's Debt Diet"--Oprah's push to get Americans out of debt. I'll be honest and say that the show has done little to inspire me to get out of debt and a lot to make me feel good that I am not as ridiculous as the woman on the show who throws away her bills, owns 5 cars and spends $7,000 a year on her hair. I AM frugal! Other important stuff I have learned from Oprah is that Matthew McConahey, while handsome, is a fool. I was upset by his wardrobe choice, his constant face touching, his love of pickles, his arrogance about how he is so "real" and "earthy," as well as his personal life motto: "Just keep livin'."

I've decided my favorite drawer is my sweater drawer. In the past I have kept my sweaters folded on a shelf in the closet, but now they are in a dresser drawer. There are 3 stacks of sweaters side by side consisting of approximately 4 sweaters per stack. But I have the sweaters slightly terraced so that part of each is showing. It looks just like something you would see in a store, except all the sweaters are ugly and I hate them.

Is purple eye shadow cool or even just acceptable? I have been thinking a lot about this actually. It seems 80's but IT JUST LOOKS SO GOOD! Because I am loving Bobbi Brown's gel eyeliner in Violet Ink, I decided recently to jazz it up with some purple eyeshadow. I know I don't look cool or sleek like the bright-eyed ladies at the MAC counter or anything--I probably look more like I should be hanging out with Molly Ringwald. I wonder if she would approve of my blue's clues shoes.

Once I looked through a book called Are You Smarter Than You Think You Are? But what I need is a book called You are Smarter Than Other People Think You Are. That might have given me the self-confidence I needed when I had to sit between a physicist and a neurosurgeon at a dinner party recently. When talking to Roxy the next day and telling her I had felt a little out of my league, she encouraged me by saying, "You should have told those people, 'You think you're so smart, but do you have The Parent Trap memorized?? I don't think so.'" And that's probably true. So there.

So that's what I've been up to. Just doing a lot of important thinking about a lot of life's important issues. I better get going now though. There are only 30 minutes 'til Oprah and I still have to put on my Jimmie Johnson NASCAR light pink fleece pantsuit and sit around and think about a few more things.

It's Back: Name That Song

2006-02-17T14:07:00.000-08:00

The Rules:

1. Please DO NOT guess in the comment section! E-mail me (see my profile page for my e-mail address).
2. Please do not look up the answer...I really send a prize, so be honest and fair.
3. Previous winners may still play.
4. Be the FIRST to e-mail me with the correct song title & artist and win.
Good Luck!

This month's lyric is:

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself

2006-02-17T13:26:00.000-08:00

and by "do with myself," I mean "wear to church." Perhaps I have surprised Neil with the way I start asking "what will I wear to church?" every Saturday and staring in the closet for long periods of time. But he didn't see me the time I skipped class in college because I felt ugly in all of my clothes and sat in a pile of them on the floor all afternoon. Or when my mom and I would ditch school because we needed to "call in fat."

Here's the problem. I haven't come to terms with my new fashion rules yet. I'm not used to the weather/lack of seasons here. If it's warm all day but chilly at night, can I wear wool pants because it's February? Or should I not because it was 70 degrees that day? Is it okay to not wear pantyhose if it is warm? Even though it IS February? And my legs are really white? I tried observing other women at church, but that didn't help me a whole lot. I mean there were girls without nylons, but they were also girls wearing them.

Since I never know what to wear and my hair was starting to look like Bo Duke's, I decided I needed a haircut to make me feel better. I unpacked my Mandy Moore pics and got out the phone book. I found a lot of strangely named salons ("Hotheads" and "Total Concern for the Bride"), so I decided to get out of the house and do some drive-bys of these places. I ended up getting my hair cut in Regis at the mall by a woman named Jesus (she went by Maggie) who told me she had washed my hair twice so I wouldn't have to wash it the next day.

I also have some blue Nike casual tennis shoes that I have taken to wearing daily. They are comfortable and cute and have a small pattern of clusters of three flowers. It turns out though that the clusters of three flowers look like paw prints and peeps think I'm running around in "Blue's Clues" shoes. Not exactly chic, I know. But it hasn't stopped me from wearing them everyday no matter what color or style of top I have on.

I never said "top" until I married Neil who always says it when I ask him what I will wear. "What will I wear today, husband?" "Jeans and a top" is his standard, very helpful reply. I think it's because he doesn't know whether he should say shirt or blouse or better yet, something specific. But it's still cute and I'm going to stick with it. It's the least I can do now that he is trying to sport a southern accent.

I'm Married Now, Suckahs

2006-02-10T10:35:00.000-08:00

Evabody told me that married life would be an adjustment. But as I sit here at 1 o'clock in the afternoon in my bathrobe with my orange juice, all I know is, my adjustment just hasn't been that bad. I mean, would you have to adjust to being asleep at 10:30 in the morning when your husband brings you a bowl of homemade cake frosting to eat? or when you are instant messaging in your pajamas at 3 p.m. while downing some little smokies? I don't think so. And what if you had your own bedside table with a drawer containing 4 lbs. of Snickers Minis and a bottle of Tums? I don't think I'd hear you complaining either.

Plus, it's not like we're one of these gag-me cheesey couples with matching hiking pants and water bottles who can never be apart. Neil is perfectly happy to wear his hiking pants while cooking up some supper in the kitchen while I wear mine in the other room to watch Beauty and the Geek 2.

Now that all the wedding stuff is over, this seems like cake. I mean, it wasn't really ideal to be ralphing in front of my fiance on the trip from Tennessee to Utah before our wedding. Or when our sheepherder sealer consistently mispronounced my name. Or when he mispronounced pornography (as phonography) for that matter. But is mentioning pornography during a marriage ceremony really a good idea anyway?

And maybe the officiator at our ring ceremony did use my mother's first name instead of mine. And maybe I did nail my 14-year-old sister in the face when I tossed my bouquet. But these were all just trivial bumps on the road to a fabulous life with a man who is just happy when I address him as "husband" because it's a step in the right direction from "dude."

Delayed Due to Technical Difficulties: Name That Song

2005-12-19T14:22:00.000-08:00

That's Mrs. Dibbleblotts to You

2005-11-30T07:44:00.000-08:00

I'm just sayin' that on Friday, my 27th birthday, what began here and here went to a whole new level. Aaaahhhhhh (to be sung like heavenly choir).

A Few Kooks

2005-11-22T09:15:00.000-08:00

My birthday cards from my grandmother and mom, respectively.

My mom's tradition is to get a card with people or animals she can label as us. It just cracks me that she circled her stomach, too.

I met another kooky lady last week. I was at a luncheon for work where I was seated at the senior citizen table. A woman wearing an orange sweater, an orange jacket and a large orange crocheted hat approached me and said, "I wanted to give you a copy of the Constitution. Actually, it's a citizen's handbook. There is an error at the bottom of page 15. Would you please turn there?" So I did. But then instead of telling me what the mistake was, she asked me to find it. Luckily I happened to know that Patrick Henry's "Give me liberty or give me death" speech was in a church in Richmond and not in the House of Burgesses in Williamsburg.

Edith then went back to her side of the table where she said something I couldn't hear to her husband. He then said, "If you tell me to bring a teabag when I'm in the shower, I won't hear you." She then asked him, "If you didn't hear me, why are you looking in your pockets??" He just shook his head and said he didn't know. Edith then picked up her trunklike purse and started removing the contents and putting them on the table as we all ate and watched. After she had made a large pile which included a really big, gold belt and 3 pairs of eyeglasses, she declared, "Well, no teabags in here!"

And I talked to some real kooks last night who were camping out in the rain at Target for the new XBox today. And I thought I was crazy.

Just Pretend I'm a Celebrity

2005-11-21T13:05:00.000-08:00

Then maybe you will be fascinated by what I would listen to.

After my eyes glazed over from reading so many different celebrities' playlists on iTunes, I decided to make my own. Now this isn't a "these are my all time favorite songs" playlist--far from it. That would be an impossible task. But here's what I would put on my playlist for today:

I Drove All Night – Cyndi Lauper
Thing Called Love – Bonnie Raitt
Green Eyes – Coldplay
Up All Night – Counting Crows
Good Morning Little Schoolgirl – Jonny Lang
I Just Wanted to See You So Bad – Lucinda Williams
How Can You Mend a Broken Heart? – Al Green
The Bitch is Back – Elton John
You Keep Me Hangin’ On – The Supremes
Heartbreaker – Dionne Warwick
Gypsy – Fleetwood Mac
Crazy Love – Van Morrison
Eleanor – Low Millions
Bang and Blame – R.E.M.
The Chemicals Between Us – Bush
The Loop – Morrissey
I’m So Happy I Can’t Stop Crying – Sting

Name That Song

2005-11-17T08:34:00.000-08:00

Who Are You Most Compatible With?

2005-11-16T10:44:00.000-08:00

Check out this link to see your biorhythm charts. The best part is testing your compatibility with others, including celebrities. I'm glad I found out about this site because I might never have known I am 97% intellectually compatible with Ice-T.

And who knew that you could tell so much just from your birthday? I mean besides Dave the nutritionist whose prognosis and treatment of me was based solely on the time of my birth and birthday.

Speaking of birthdays, I got a birthday card from my grandmother last week. I thought it was a little odd that it was a card for a little girl with a cartoon mermaid on the front. And a mermaid with long blonde locks, no less! I knew it must be some sort of message to me about my hair which she is always talking about--how I need to keep it long or grow it out because it is my "crowning glory." But then as I started to read the poem inside I came across the line "and the mermaid wishes her special granddaughter a very happy birthday." I see I had misjudged. SHE is the mermaid, not me.

Anyway, a few days later when I thanked her, she asked if I liked the card and told me how she knew it was just the card for me when she saw it. And after all the talk about how much she loved the card, she said, "You know, if you haven't thrown it away yet, would you mind sending it back to me?" So even though my birthday is still 9 days away, I have already received and returned her birthday card. But she just might want to do a painting of her mermaid self. Who knows? She IS an artist.

Top 10 Reasons You Could Call Me a Chic Sophisticate

2005-11-14T09:15:00.000-08:00

10. Recently I ate half of a stale donut that I had dropped, frosting-side down, on the floor of my office, all the while telling my co-workers I had thrown it away.

And that was only a few days after I:

9. Ate 2 brownies I had dropped on the street.

8. Once when I was a teenager and out to dinner with my family, the waiter brought a carafe of coke for our refills, which I thought I was supposed to drink out of.

7. Before I had a car, I spent a significant amount of time online researching where I could get some metro-accessible fried chicken.
7a. I have eaten chicken livers from KFC.

6. My work wardrobe frequently consists of items such as:

5. Roxy asked if I remembered our "Gross Oreo Day"--we didn't shower and laid on the couches all day eating oreos. Of course I do. And actually, that's not the only time I have done that.

4. After cutting my own hair for over a year, I recently returned to the salon world. And to a really nice salon where I had to fill out a questionnaire as a new client. Although tempted to lie on it, I was honest and put down that the hair care products I use are made for livestock.

3. Once I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet and used it anyway. Just kidding, I'm not THAT sophisticated.

2. Carly's son Holden mistook a blonde bikini-clad model on top of a jeep for me.

1. I have been ridiculed (and challenged to a bra-putting-on-speed contest) because apparently I don't put on my bra like a real woman.

TVLand

2005-11-10T09:42:00.000-08:00

From October 27th through November 6th, we had houseguests who were sick. So I wasn't really surprised when 2 days ago I started getting a sore throat. Around lunchtime when I started going downhill and feeling feverish, I headed home. After I had been on the couch for 30 minutes, my roommate walked in. She was sick, too. We took our places on our couches and turned on the TV. There really isn't a lot on TV these days and I figure when you are sick and on the couch for 1.5 days, you are willing to watch about anything...Sort of like how it is exciting to watch any video in school because it's not class. Case in point: Stand and Deliver.

Here's a list of what I have been doing for the last day and a half while at home:

Tuesday:
1:00pm: In America
3:00-5:00pm: nap
5:00pm: While You Were Out
6:00pm: Martha
7:30pm: Jeopardy!
8:00pm: Gilmore Girls
9:00pm: Commander-in-Chief
10:00pm: Whose Wedding is it Anyway? (where we watched an entire episode of planning a wedding that we never got to see because they called it off...why did they air this episode?)
11:00pm: Will and Grace
11:30pm: flipped between 2 episodes of Will and Grace on different channels
12:00pm: Will and Grace
12:30pm: Will and Grace

Wednesday (after being woken up by a call from the office at 12:15pm):

1:30pm: Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
3:30pm: What Dreams May Come
5:45pm: nap
6:45pm: last 15 mins of Martha
7:00pm: Friends
7:30pm: Jeopardy!
8:00pm: Silence of the Lambs

Carly loves Martha because she is a go-getter. I hate her because she is rude. At least we love/hate her for different reasons. Here's what I got out of my Martha sick time:

After waiting 45 minutes to learn Martha's secret to making perfect rice that doesn't break or stick together...she told us to put the rice in a rice cooker and add water. Or if you just have to use the old fashioned way, then bring water to a boil, add rice & salt, cover. Thanks for the big secret, Martha.

Martha was rude to Joan Cusack and wouldn't let her talk. She talked over all her comments and told Joan that she obviously wasn't getting her kids involved in her cooking properly. She also made comments to her like, "Kids LOVE it when the chicken is a nice color like this" and "Just make sure your kid who is a picky eater is only allowed to eat squid in Sicily. He will LOVE it." What?

And Martha's advice to her studio audience:

When asked by a man who was about to purchase a horse whether she recommended a mare, a stallion or a gelding: "A mare or a stallion or a gelding would be great."

When asked what to do about cookies that kept burning on the bottom: "Turn the oven down."

When asked how to press fall leaves without them getting brittle: "Put them in a book."

She also laughed when a man said his kitchen had burned down. She simply explained that she laughs during tragedy...when her daughter broke her arm, she laughed. When someone else broke his leg, she laughed. she can't help it!

At least it was worth the fever to be able to catch up on all this useful information from Martha!

I'll Have to Say I Love You In a Song

2005-11-02T08:07:00.000-08:00

I listen to music a lot and pretty much every song I know conjures up some sort of memory. Whether it's a person, an event, a movie, a certain time in my life or even just a previous time I heard that song, something comes to mind. In fact, there are some songs I like for purely sentimental reasons. Here are some songs that remind me of you.

K.D. Lang, Shadowland: Not only is this album GREAT, it also reminds me of the countless times I listened to it in the car or at the pool with my family. I still remember which songs were everyone's favorites. (Skewedview's: "Tears Don't Care Who Cries Them," Charlotte's: "I Wish I Didn't Love You So," Justine's: "Sugar Moon," and mine: "Too Busy Being Blue.") Also I used to dance every night when I lived with Carly to "Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes" from this album.

Linda Rondstadt, Cry Like a Rainstorm: There is no way I would own or love this CD like I do without Skewedview's influence.

"The Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks: Chuckie

Sarah McLachlan and "Cherish" by Madonna: Cathy.

"The Macarena": This reminds me of my family high school graduation party and especially Patty doing the macarena in the driveway.

Mariah Carey's remake of "I'll Be There," Kelly Clarkson: Terri

"Hello, Goodbye" by the Beatles: Christmas shopping with the girls in the family and all singing our different parts in British accents.

"Stacy's Mom" by Fountains of Wayne: Wayne

All other Fountains of Wayne, Lucinda Williams, HEM, "The Promise" by When in Rome and Bruce Springsteen: Neil

"Brass in Pocket" by the Pretenders, U2, Bob Dylan, Garbage, Andrea Boccelli and NEK: Carly.

"Breakdown" by Tom Petty: Carly, Neil.

All R.E.M.: Kacy.

Belinda Carlisle, Steve Winwood, Van Morrison, and all Motown: my mom.

Perry Como: my grandpa.

Tina Turner, Lionel Ritchie: Schatze.

Bon Jovi, Joe: Camelio Estevez.

"Good Night, Elizabeth" by the Counting Crows and "9 to 5" by Dolly: Roxy. We listened to "9 to 5" on repeat until we knew all the words just before we had a pineapple explosion. zing!

John Mayer: Lizer

"3 A.M." by Matchbox 20 and "How Will I Know?" by Whitney Houston: my cousin Lee because a. he sort of looks like Rob Thomas and b. I used to force him to make up routines when we were little and Lee was the "he" in "How will I know if he really loves me?"

Deana Carter, Did I Shave My Legs for This?: my Freshmen roommates. We even wrote Deana some fanmail about this CD.

Any Britney Spears, "Stuck on You" by Lionel Ritchie. "Gone" and "Up Against the Wall" by 'NSync: Carrie. Disco ball. Disco ball. Disco ball.

Well, I'm sure there are more that will come to me later, but right now I think I'll settle into my workday with a little "Sister Golden Hair"-- which I will dedicate to myself.

Trick or Treat

2005-10-31T10:08:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm shakin' my booty to KC and the Sunshine Band's "Shake Your Booty" while wearing this shirt. It's sort of like in The Hours when Virginia Woolf is writing Mrs. Dalloway, Laura is reading it and Clarissa is living it. Only I won't feel like I want to kill myself after I'm done.

So, Happy Halloween! I haven't really felt like it's Halloween yet because I have done nothing to make me think otherwise. Wearing my Halloween t-shirt I bought at Target last year has been the extent of it. I didn't carve a pumpkin. I didn't put spiderwebs on the front porch. I didn't put out my Halloween tablecloth or Frankenstein candleabra. I didn't go to the ward Halloween party where, last year, I bobbed for apples in a giant rubbermaid bin then walked around the rest of the night looking like a wet dog. I didn't drive for over an hour to the regional church barn dance which is always advertised as having a hayride but never does. I did see The Legend of Zorro which could qualify as scary. So maybe that counts.

Despite my less than festive weekend I did have a good time, with the exception of the time I spent crying over a box of chicken in the Popeye's parking lot. But we all have our moments, right?

I saw Elizabethtown and it was different, but I liked it. Actually, maybe I was just in a euphoric state from the popcorn I was eating. Now I am nowhere near the movie popcorn connossieur that Carly, who has gone into a theater, explained to the ticket taker that she is just there to get some popcorn, bought some and then left without ever seeing a movie, is. But I did finally live out our mutual dream since our discovery of the self service butter dispensers and that is: I took a separate bag so I could dump my popcorn into it, then pour it back into the real popcorn bag a little at a time while dispensing the butter allowing equal delicious distribution throughout. Sure I made a mess, but I have some ideas for how to do it better next time. And sure I got laughed at, but I think those peeps were just jealous of my ingenuity and yummy buttery popcorn.

What I will say about Elizabethtown is 1) it was odd but pleasing, 2) I really don't know what all the Orlando hype is about, and 3) it had great music including "Big Love" by Fleetwood Mac, which is one of my favorites and is, I think, far too unappreciated.

So after this weekend, my advice for you would be:

1. The Legend of Zorro: don't see it.
2. Elizabethtown: see it or don't. I don't really care. I liked it but can appreciate the fact that a lot of people probably wouldn't.
3. If sugar starts to smell like it's burning, even though it's not boiling and the recipe says wait until it boils, just go ahead and start over and don't keep adding ingredients you will eventually have to throw out.
4. If you need a snack during church, don't bring a whole green apple to chomp on.
5. Personal journals with juicy info: Don't bring them to stake conference, sit on the row in front of me, then place them on the empty chair directly in front of me where I might accidentally read something you don't want shared.

I Said Some Good Stuff Yesterday

2005-10-27T08:07:00.000-07:00

I'm signed up for e-rewards because sometimes when I need a break from blogging at work, I like to take surveys to build up my account to get free stuff. Yesterday I received an offer to take a survey worth $4! Score. The time estimation on the survey was 20 minutes. But in the past I've never spent more than 3-4 minutes on one of their surveys, no matter how long it says these surveys will take. I thought this time would be the same. It was not.

The survey asked me a lot of demographic questions, including a lot of questions about my political affiliation and leanings. I kept getting the same charts to fill out over and over and I was beginning to suspect that they were testing me to see if I was being honest and would continue to give the same answers. Then I was provided with a commercial to watch for a candidate in our state's upcoming gubernatorial race. I watched the very short commercial which was pretty much void of any information except to show the candidate standing with the current governor, Mark Warner, and to say they had worked together.

Then I was asked a lot of hard questions about the commercial. I was beginning to feel like I was back in high school taking a reading comprehension test. Plus there were tons of questions that I didn't really know how to answer because of the brevity and lack of content in the commercial. There wasn't really anything about the commercial that caused any sort of emotional stir in me--love, hate, nothing. But I tried to answer the questions to the best of my ability. After all, these peeps were going to fork over $4 and I know how it feels to send a legit prize to a cheating Name That Song winner.

So about 10 minutes into the survey, I read that I was now being transferred into a live chat with an interviewer who had more questions for me. I panicked. This had NEVER happened in an e-rewards survey. Still, I answered Marnie's questions honestly and to the best of my ability despite the fact that the entire time we were conversing, I was wondering if she could see all my previous answers on the survey, especially for the question: What did you like least about this commercial? My answer: "Mark Warner's face."

I also referred to someone as "a butt" yesterday. This was immediately after I was walking in my front door repeating a somewhat crude story to my mom over the phone, only to find myself walking in on the middle of a visiting teaching lesson. And that was immediately after I had been downtown and found myself alone with Senator John McCain. But luckily, I ended the awkward silence after he winked at me with: "You sure are dressed up!"

What You Want, Baby, I Got

2005-10-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

In case you hadn't figured it out yet, I'm really cool. Peeps are always giving me props and shout-outs and respect and raisin' the roof and all that kind of stuff you do for cool peeps.

I hope you, too, will join the ranks of these folks who totally respect me:

The North Carolina Girls: Friday night I went to Katie Blue's for a little Cranium. This is how much my team respected me: they gave an answer that I MADE UP to a question about the name of a game. Both wanted to go with it even after I reminded them, "I made up that game. You do know that, right?" And this was not 5 minutes after we incorrectly answered a True/False question that I had adamantly convinced everyone I knew without a doubt.

Mike: Because I thought it was going to be Carly when he called me from her cell phone at the hospital and I answered the phone with a loud, pretty song: "How Ya Doooooiiiinnn'?"

My boss and everyone he had meetings with today: They each paused to stop and stare at my pink moccassins.

All the people in the Discovery Channel Store who saw me reading "Are You Smarter Than You Think You Are?"

Anyone at church yesterday who saw me: A) sleeping during Sacrament meeting B) Laughing with my eyes open during the closing prayer or C) Knocking down people to get to the refreshment table after the show and then stopping to scratch the bronze-painted-pumpkin vases to see if they were real.

5 boyz from the hood at the mall on Saturday: I think they must have respected me after they heard me respond with "Hey, Ho" to my mom's usual "Hey Tramp" greeting on the phone. Immediately after I said this to her, they came and sat at my table with me. One man on each side and 3 across from me. I ate the rest of my pizza in silence...I mean, let's face it, I couldn't really get up and move, now could I?

Blogger Dad

2005-10-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Pops!
And though your view may be skewed,
here are 10 reasons you're one awesome dude:

10. you have a supercrack.

9. you were caught dancing in your undies while painting your bedroom this summer (pre-supercrack).

8. you painted the game room like a baseball field including one wall partially papered with baseball cards.

7. you have watched Independence Day and Armageddon more times than everyone else who has ever seen them combined.

6. you make a mean sausage gravy.

5. you are a great artist.

4. you painted your kitchen purple.

3. your main dream is to lounge in the pool while projecting movies onto the back of the house to watch (this is my main dream, too).

2. you must be stopped from putting controversial "hatin'" boxes in you blog sidebar.

1. you are the best dad evah.

On My Blogiversary

2005-10-19T10:44:00.000-07:00

Ode to My Blog

I love you, "How Am I Doin'?"
I'll love you 'til the end.
You taught me of obsession
and how to make a friend:
Just roam from blog to blog
and be a comment whore,
And soon there will be blog friends
knocking down your door.

Dear blog, I can't repay you
for all you've given me.
Please accept these simple words
from this girl from Tennessee.

You gave me a date with a stranger.
It didn't go too far,
But at least I got to ride
in Heidi's former car.

And then you gave me music
in the form of mp3s
from new blog friends and relatives
and one of Kelly Clarkson's new cds.

You brought out my obsession
with a thing called blogpatrol.
I had to stop my tracking spreadsheet
because I was getting out of control.
Recording IP addresses,
tallying times and cities and states...
This became unhealthy,
constantly checking for new updates.

You fired up former friendships
And brought me closer to Clete,
who turned me on to blogging
in her blog group of the elite.
There are so many names I could mention
of those for whom friendship I now feel,
but I'll just mention the best thing I got from you,
and that is definitely Neil.

So on my blogiversary
of my first year with you,
"How Am I Doin'?", you've given me so much,
I just hope you love me, too.

Name That Song

2005-10-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

Clean Sweep

2005-10-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

I had a traumatic Saturday. While doing my summer clothes/winter clothes closet switchout, I had my bi-annual "I'm a materialistic sinner" feelings. This time I decided that I needed to rid of some things (which Carly has really been pushing me to do for awhile).

Normally I like to get things weeded out and trimmed down, but with my clothes it is a different story. I feel like I need a lot of options and what if, for example, I were to buy a skirt later and I'd already gotten rid of a shirt that would have gone perfectly with it, just because I didn't have anything to go with it at the time?? These hypothetical outfits rule my emotions when it comes to getting rid of my clothes. Anyway, I was all worked up and having a hard time, but still making some serious headway through the Rubbermaid bins piled high in my room. I started a Goodwill pile and an Undecided pile. If I hadn't worn something in a long time, I tried it on. This proved to be even more upsetting...all the trying on and staring at yourself all day in the mirror.

Ultimately, the deciding factor became: tears welling up in my eyes while trying on an item = Goodwill pile.

At least 6 hours into this process of moving bins from the basement to the second floor, going through all of them, folding, hanging, trying on, crying, re-organizing closet, etc...I was proud of myself for moving the entire "Undecided" pile into the Goodwill pile with the exception of one pair of shoes I decided to keep (but I did buy them in London, even if they do look like grandma shoes).

I'm sure you will be truly amazed, and warranted in your judgment of me, when I tell you that my closet is still busting at the seams even after donating the following EIGHTY-ONE ITEMS to Goodwill:

1 apron
1 hat
1 dress
1 fleece pullover
1 dress coat
1 leather jacket
1 pair of shorts
1 pair of Grandma pajamas
2 skirts
3 pairs of jeans
3 fleece vests
5 sweaters
7 pairs of capris
8 pairs of slacks
8 pairs of shoes
37 shirts/blouses.

I hoped that after a good night's rest, the whole thing would pass and I would feel great that I had gotten rid of so much stuff. And I did!

And I hoped that Sunday being Fast Sunday would help me to feel a little thinner and better about myself after the disturbing hours of trying on clothes and staring at myself in the mirror on Saturday. And it did!

Well, at least until I didn't care about how I looked anymore when I was totally humiliated in Sunday School. It was 5:00p.m. (yes, I have church from 3-6) and my stomach growled SO LOUDLY that everyone within a 3 person/row radius turned around to look at me. People were laughing. Shoulders were shaking. But the worst was when a stranger across the aisle and a few rows forward turned back to look at me while tapping his ear and mouthed the words, "I heard that. WOW!"

Shining, Gleaming, Streaming, Flaxen, Waxen

2005-10-08T08:25:00.000-07:00

Roses are red
I love my new hairdo.
At my stylist's hair station,
Open beer bottles: 2

Roses are red
My grandma will flip
She only likes long hair
even though my new style is hip.

Roses are red
Need a saltine for your wine?
Check out this new blog
by a good boss of mine.

Technology is Going to Make Me Fat

2005-10-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

At 8 o'clock yesterday morning on instant message, Carly said of Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream, "I think this is the best ice cream I have ever had in my life." So I bought some on my lunch break even though (1) she said the same thing about Chunky Monkey the day before, (2) they were giving away free ice cream in our lobby during lunch and (3) I have consumed 14 brownies in the last 48 hours.

The other day as I was walking to the mailbox across the street, I overheard a conversation between 2 strangers. One woman said to the other, "I thought he would have at least said 'thank you' for the cookies." Suddenly I was so excited and thought "mmmmmmm....Cookies!" I walked straight past the mailbox and on down the street to the grocery store where I ended up buying chocolate donuts instead because I had just read about them on Kacy's blog.

Plant a seed in my mind and I can't resist! There's no telling how many times I have eaten something for lunch just because Neil mentioned it in passing in an instant message conversation and the thought/desire for it started brewing around in my head.

I'm going to try to work off all these calories playing basketball tonight. I haven't played in months because the only people who are going to the pick-up games now are the really good, competitive girls who played basketball in college. It is a lot of pressure. But Tuesday night, when confronted by the Stake Women's Athletic Director about where I've been, I found the following words flying out of my mouth with unbelievable conviction: "I'll be there this Thursday. I'm committing right here and now that I will be there." I don't know what I was thinking, obviously not about the punishment that will be mine tonight.

At least tonight is the start of the first of two 4-day weekends in a row I have coming up, even if it does have to start with a basketball game that I will probably be feeling for the remainder of that time. I'm off Monday for Columbus Day which hasn't always been the case. The first three years I worked here, we were not off but last year we had a trial run and I didn't have to work, but was on call. That will be funny only to those of you who know all about my job. This year we have the day off. Score. (Camelio, if you were here, we could go to the Native American Museum without worry of interruption. And I'm almost done with your homework. I'll be faxing it soon.)

Do you really think I should be doing Camelio's math homework while dating a professor? It doesn't seem right. I guess I've got some food for thought. mmmmmmmm....FOOD!

All in a Day's Work

2005-09-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

Today I came to an upsetting realization. Despite the fact that I joke about the place I work and the ridiculous things that go on there all the time, I think I am just as crazy as everyone else. I came to this conclusion when I was thinking about the fact that when I'm alone in the elevator and the doors are about to open, I stick a key in between the two doors as if I were opening them myself.

The second piece of evidence came when I remembered that I often press a piece of Scotch tape onto the back of my left hand. I leave it there for awhile, then remove it and examine my skin pattern on the sticky side and then throw it away. I don't know why I do this and it took awhile before I even realized I was doing it that frequently.

And finally, you know how---sometimes when people are bowing after a performance and they do that flitty hand circle thing while they lower their arm?---well sometimes I do that when I answer my phone at work. And I did do that today when I took the following call from a stranger.

The stranger talked for awhile then asked if I am a lawyer or just a paralegal. When I told him I am neither, he asked, "Why? Didn't you finish school?" I told him I did indeed go to school, but not law school and, in fact, have never had a desire to be a lawyer. "What is your name then?" he asked. I told him my first name (which is of Greek origin) and he said, "Are you Latina?" I told him I am not, to which he replied, "Well, I think you should go to medical school." "OK" was all I could come up with.

After a little more chatting on his part, he gave me his address. Now, I don't really need his address and I couldn't really understand everything he said, so I knew I was in trouble when he asked me to repeat his address back to him. Luckily I had gotten everything down except the city, so I just asked, "What city did you say again?" to which he said something I, again, could not understand. "Rabbledabble?" I asked. "NO! RABBLEDABBLE!" he exclaimed. By which, I later found out, he meant Riverdale. And that was that. I think it may be time for this gentleman to seize the title of Very Good Question Asker.

My Top 10 Childhood Heroines (Or Sheilas Who Taught Me a Thing or Two)

2005-09-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

When you're a nerd like me
Raised on AMC
these are the ladies
You want to grow up to be...

10. Sandra Dee

9. Natalie Wood

8. Maureen O'Hara

7. Grace Kelly

6. Betty Grable

5. Lucille Ball

4. Marilyn Monroe

3. Hayley Mills

2. Rita Hayworth

1. Esther Williams

Honorable Mentions: Lauren Bacall, Katherine Hepburn, Annette Funicello

More Numbers

2005-09-23T08:43:00.000-07:00

# of minutes spent in conversation about Church Hymns on Wednesday: 80

# of minutes spent deciding whether "Forever Your Girl" or "Cold Hearted Snake" is better: 13

# of times did robot to violin part of "Cold Hearted Snake" while deciding: 1

# of cell phone minutes used in the last 30 days: over 3300

# of people have accosted at church activities this week to discuss my hair: 3

# of those people who were total strangers that I freaked out: 1

# of pics of Mandy Moore's hair saved to computer today: 7

# of tears shed when realized am freak annoying everyone with hair talk: 35

# of dollars fined by library for overdue book: "Clouds Without Rain: An Ohio Amish Mystery" (hmmm, that's not really ringing a bell): 3

# of phonecalls received from mother yesterday: 5

# of voicemails left yesterday by mother using disguised voice: 1

# of minutes before the end of the workday yesterday my boss called and told me "just do these things and then head out early!": 90

# of minutes after the end of the workday still at work doing what he asked: 47

# of times said "OH. MY. GOSH!" during The Apprentice last night: 19

# of dreams had about having Omaha Steaks in a chinese airport: 1

# of dreams had about meeting Brad Pitt, asking for his autograph and receiving not only his autograph, but also a catalog he had gone through and circled things I might like, as well as a portable stereo: 1

# of days I have to return Jury Duty questionnaire: 10

# of matinees will see today: 2

# of those matiness that will star Lil Bow Wow: 1

And I'm off to have a mad crunk time on my free day! Latah suckahs!

I'm Hungry (But Not as Hungry as Renee)

2005-09-19T10:26:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Reese Witherspoon's hair in Just Like Heaven (the only inspiring thing in that movie), I used a curling iron yesterday for the first time in about 6 years. Unfortunately, my hair didn't turn out like hers, AND I was told by 3 different people at church that my dress looked like a Barbie doll. Frankly, I didn't know how to take that. It doesn't seem like anyone meant it as an insult, but it really wasn't what I was going for either.

At church, the Very Good Question Asker approached me to compliment my lipstick. I like her. I mean I don't really know her, but she seems quirky and nice. And when she was talking to me, I thought, "I bet she would be fun to be friends with, but now I have gone and ruined my chances."

I could just delete every mention of her on my blog, but then the anonymous commenter and friend of VGQA would always know about it and I would be living a lie. Maybe I could confess to her and ask her forgiveness and tell her that I think she gave a great lesson in Relief Society a couple of weeks ago and that I think she is quirky and nice and want to be friends with her...that I really meant no harm but was just looking for some funny blodder. She seems forgiving, especially after she made a comment in Relief Society yesterday about a courageous confession she had to make in the 8th grade. She could read my blog and we could be friends who link arms and hold our heads back and laugh together. It just seems like the kind of person she is.

So, in summary:

1. Saw Just Like Heaven which I thought was going to be ridiculous. And was even more ridiculous than I expected. Liked Reese's hair (when she was alive and not spirit), tried to copy, but instead ended up looking like girl with hair from 80's wearing dress made for doll.
2. Realized have ruined chances of friendship through blogging.

AND:

3. Washed car myself in driveway. Did such terrible job on windexing front window that can barely see out of it now.
4. Had dinner of 1 box Kraft Mac & Cheese combined with 1 can chili. It was good, despite what some food snobs (Neil) think.
5. Felt my "Name that Song" contest was so important that, when internet failed at home, went to library (unshowered in shorts, t-shirt, flip flops and pony tail) and waited in line to use the internet.
6. Was surprisingly excited to hear Sara Evans cover of Bruce Hornsby's "Every Little Kiss" on album checked out at library.
7. Took 3 naps Saturday.
8. Ate 3 donuts Sunday. (FYI: THIS is the first pic that comes up when you search google images for "Krispy Kreme.")
9. Heard about Renee and Kenny's breakup. Was anyone surprised after she got married in that dress with a giant buckle on the bottom?
10. Carly and I reminisced about the first time we studied together...during which I ate a chili dog and she me told that she was an expert at browning hamburger meat. We immediately made plans to move in together.

The End.

Name That Song

2005-09-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

O Mi'Amica Cara!

2005-09-15T07:26:00.000-07:00

Tanti auguri a te!

Spero che ricevi tutti dei tuoi desideri oggi. Spero che tu incontri Bono oggi, questa e il mio desiderio per te. Se l'averai visto, dici a lui "Ti Amo" molte volte e forsi lui indossa overalls rosso (come il tuo sogno). (Anche spero che nessuno che potere parlare italiano molto bene legge questa perche non ricordo molto.)

Sei non e vecchia ma sarai giovane tutti tuoi giorni.

Se saro in Tucson, bacchi tu dalla testa. Solo Mike puo baciare la tua bella bocca (anche non voglio baciati come questa).

Mi dispiace che il tuo regalo e piu tardi. Spero che l'arriva in breve tempo.

Ti voglio benissimo. Tanti Auguri, Tanti Auguri, Tanti Auguri!

Business in the Front, Party in the Back

2005-09-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

This morning I got in the elevator and there was a really tall woman with a really serious mullet in there with me. I tried not to stare but her hair was like this in the front:

and SUPERLONG in the back..which I know is the definition of a mullet--but hers was unusually short AND unusually long.

She had on some cute sandals and when I told her I liked them, she scooted over to me and whispered, "Payless, Girl!" But I have learned my lesson about Payless sandals. They may be cheap but because they are cheap they are prone to stinkiness. I have had many an instant message conversation with Carrie that went something like:
M: "Hyd?" C: "G, but I'm wearing my MBC's (Montego Bay Club Collection) today, so watch out."

The thing is, the mullet lady probably wasn't too impressed with my hair either. Monday I came back to a house with no air conditioning and it was HOT in there. We are getting a new unit today, but for the last 2 nights I have showered at night and slept with wet hair. So my hair has been really soft because I have no product in it, but that also means it's pretty flat. Luckily I can give it a little poof by sporting my sunglasses as a headband all day at work.

And even after all my blog talk (and non-blog talk) about my hair, I STILL haven't had a haircut. I really should just do something about it since I was even tempted by an email that came out over my ward listserve today from a girl who will cut your hair for $5. (And I think I probably look like I NEED a haircut since I was asked recently, "Is it because of money? Because I can give you some money.")

Lastly, speaking of party in the back, I would like to welcome back to blogging from his 2 month hiatus, the one and only Skewedview (who had a ponytail for years).

Happy Birthday, Boss.

2005-09-10T06:36:00.000-07:00

There once was a man named Neil.
For him, today's a big deal.
His birthday has come.
Now give him some rum
To go with his home-cooked meal.

Stuck on you like a bad tattoo,
The Trailer Park Gourmet

Do You Think I'm Crazy?

2005-09-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

-Today I got an email from Jesus and all it said was "I know you are ready." I don't know exactly what He meant, but it made me feel good.

-Also today I saw a man in the grocery store with a T-shirt on that said "My Tax Lady Loves Me" with a Glamour Shot of his Tax Lady on it.

-Last night, before I realized what I was saying, I told a friend of mine her chest looked good in the shirt she was wearing.

-I got a lot of reading done during my 10 hours at the pool over Labor Day Weekend. It was sort of hard to concentrate yesterday though with the 10-year-old, earring-wearing, male Asian twins next to me who were sharing an iPod and singing along with "Hit Me Baby One More Time" over and over as they gradually scooted their lounge chairs closer to me.

-I was almost late to church on Sunday because I couldn't tear myself away from the mixed CD I was listening to in the car.

-This weekend I rented "What the Bleep Do We Know?" from Blockbuster.

-I LOVE Milky Way Midnight candy bars, but I prefer just to call them Milky Way Darks. Even though Milky Way Darks are my favorite, I have a Bite Size Snickers every night before I go to sleep. Did you know you can talk for an hour and a half about only candy bars without running out of things to say?

-I regularly get static interference on my computer speakers. But for the last couple of weeks, I only get get static noise that sounds like the tune of "The William Tell Overture."

-My boss considers it unacceptable when he calls in and I tell him he has no messages.

-I have made a blogpatrol tracking spreadsheet in Excel which occupies a lot of my time.

Vote for my Ringtone

2005-09-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

After getting a new cell phone, I lost my old ringtone-- the theme from "I Dream of Jeannie." Now I have a new phone and am currently using the "Shanghai" ring which is nothing to be proud of.

Help me! I have so many choices, I can't decide on a new ringtone. I need to spend my $2.49 wisely so take a minute and imagine my phone bursting out into one of the following (and you know some would be funny) and then vote for your choice (or if you have any suggestions I will check if they are available) from those I've narrowed it down to:

1. Baby Hold On - Eddie Money
2. Baby One More Time - Britney
3. Celebration - Kool & the Gang
4. Crazy in Love - Beyonce
5. Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car - Billy Ocean
6. Heart of Glass - Blondie
7. Hey Ya - Outkast
8. Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen
9. I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers
10. Raise Up - Petey Pablo
11. Rock Your Body - Justin Timberlake
12. She Works Hard for the Money - Donna Summer
13. Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson
14. This is Such a Pity - Weezer

And All the Sunshine Banishes the Dark

2005-08-31T09:24:00.000-07:00

Have you seen So You Think You Can Dance? Somehow a couple of weeks ago I watched it because I was bored and lazy and there wasn't anything else on. Well, I developed some really strong feelings about one of the dancers: Snow. I wanted her eliminated. First I was telling anyone who would listen about how much I hated Snow..then the following week I found myself voting to keep her on. Go Snow!

Yes, I watched it again. And yes, I even voted the second time.

The show is comical at best and I've got a lot of bones to pick with it. I mean, I hate all the judges, the host, most of the dancers, and the format and length of the show. What do I like about it? Well, I like seeing them pair up a break dancer and a tap dancer and make them do the Mambo. And I get a good laugh over the elimination segment when everyone is crying...those eliminated, those not eliminated but who will miss them, as well as the crackpot judges.

It's one of those shows that's so bad it's good. Like Summerland. And I think I'll ride them both out, at least for the summer.

I'm sad to see the summer go. It's hard for me to say goodbye to the long days, the pool, the tan, the summer clothes...And so I've declared this week "All White All Week" so I can get one last use out of the things I won't be wearing after Labor Day. Actually, no one at work has said a word about my wardrobe choices this week. Maybe they think I'm just going to nursing school at night.

Why You Should Want to Be Friends with Roxy Porthole

2005-08-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

She once thought she had a butt concussion.

She is no respecter of candies. When I told her this (because she loves all candy equally), she replied, "Hey! I respect candy a lot!"

I call her Momma and she calls me Baby. She also calls me Sally and Sammy Davis, Jr.

She is the perfect height to give a little kiss on the top of her head.

Whenever she gives you a book, she autographs it as if she were the author.

Her run-in with Omar.

Roxy knows how to have a good time. Every once in awhile we would have "Free Weekend" together--where we could only spend $10 max all weekend. After I won some free tickets to the Legg Mason Tennis Classic by writing some Roses are Red poems, we went and shared a bottle of water that we continued filling up in the bathroom sink. (Hey! that water was expensive!) After cheering for our "boyfriend" tennis players, discussing our feelings about 1/2 mesh shirts and getting REALLY REALLY hot, we headed home via the metro on which we almost got separated. We stood there staring at each other, each on the opposite side of a closed train door. And when the door re-opened for a second, I hopped on and there was a huge embarrassing scene of rejoicing...until we realized we were on the wrong train.

We had a pineapple explosion in her car at Virginia Beach that scared the living daylights out of us.

She calls Shotzy and me "Hot Patrol" because we like to comment when people are wearing clothes that are too warm to be worn in the Summer, like their coats in August at church for example. This is totally unrelated to the fact that every Sunday at church I used to startle her by pretending to lift up her skirt in front of everyone.

She will watch anything on TV. Anything.

I used to highlight her hair, which eventually led to me highlighting her co-worker's hair. But once on a dye job gone awry--Roxy's hair ended up a lovely shade of plum.

We made a huge Easter feast that could have fed about 15 people. We ate it all alone in our Easter dresses in the Living Room at a card table so we could watch "The Ten Commandments" on TV. Roxy had never seen it, and I will say she has now seen all of it except for the last 10 minutes...but that's not my fault.

After Roxy moved away, she mailed me her "mummy shirt" because she knew I loved it.

In the mornings, we now commonly have IM conversations in which we try to outdo each other concerning who looks more ridiculous that day, analyzing our outfits, makeup and hair. Yesterday when I told Roxy that as I had looked in the mirror that morning I thought, "Maybe I don't like being tan and blonde anymore because I'm starting to look like one of those buxom blonde porn stars who I think are so ugly," Roxy immediately typed in the IM window "NO NO." I expected her to follow with "NO NO. You don't look like that" but instead I got "NO NO. They are pretty."

Roxy, IMY. Love, Punkmonkey

Memories are Made of This

2005-08-25T10:35:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I have occasionally been called Sammy Davis, Jr. by Roxy, the Rat Pack member I adore is Dean Martin. This may explain why one Saturday night a couple of months ago I came extrememly close to ordering the entire series of "The Dean Martin Variety Show." Having thoroughly enjoyed an hour long informercial from 1:00-2:00am showing clips that made me laugh outloud, I hurried to the computer to log on and check it out. You see, I had learned the hard way back in college about ordering things over the phone.

I don't remember all the events leading up to my making a phonecall to order the video "Thin Thighs." But I do remember that I was not thwarted from my eagerness in ordering nor giving my credit card number to a woman on the other end of the phone who kept asking, "Thin what? You saw this on TV? And how much did you say the commercial said it was?" I'll just end that story by telling you that the "Thin Thighs" video I ordered ended up being TWO "Thin Thighs" videos, TWO "Tight Buns" videos, TWO "Rock Hard Abs" videos, as well as TWO bottles of vitamins sent monthly. All were later taken care of through my credit card claims department. Anyway, I blame the boyfriend I had when I was 16 who told the missionaries at church that I had big thighs (he later claimed this was a compliment) for this whole debacle anyway.

So there I was at 2:15am: Sitting at the computer and contemplating a membership wherein I would periodically receive 3 episodes of Dean Martin's variety show for something like $19.99 a month---probably for the rest of my life. Luckily I came to my senses, decided to sleep on it and never placed that order.

In conclusion, I will mention the strangest and most embarrassing thing I ever ordered online. Please take into consideration that I was 19 at the time, [apparently] uncouth, and what I did for fun were things like staying up all night playing Encore, feeding handicapped ducks and even burning feather boas in half. Okay that was KAREN CARPENTER burning MY feather boa...but what's done is done and I really harbor no hard feelings since we were able to tie it back together.

Anyway, somehow I came across a " remote-controlled machine" that made unpleasant sounds (and I'll leave it at that) on some sort of jokes/pranks website. I ordered it and we had a lot of laughs with it. I don't remember whose brilliant idea it was, but the next thing I knew, this machine was our makeshift doorbell. With the remote control glued to the outside of the doorframe just under the sign that said "Please Ring Bell," we were able to have a laugh riot anytime we had a visitor. Hmm, maybe not such a bad investment at all.

Just Keep Your Eyes on My Backside

2005-08-24T07:53:00.000-07:00

In the mornings, all things are trumped by the fact that I want to sleep longer---eating breakfast, allowing the proper time for getting ready, etc. And in the end, allowing the proper time for getting ready usually trumps leaving for work on time. Except for today--although I still didn't leave for work on time, I did not get ready properly either.

I strictly adhere to our casual dress policy at work. But I have learned the hard way that on Wednesdays, when my boss is stacked with regular meetings, I could be called on at a moment's notice to hop in a cab and accompany him or even go in his stead, and so I've learned to dress accordingly. Today I am thankful that I have been allowed to remain in my office because I only ironed the back of my dress this morning. I did think the back was the front when I ironed it and that the back (front) didn't look so bad and so I skipped it altogether in the interest of time. Not until the iron was unplugged and cooled and it was time for me to be at work, did I stand before the mirror and see that my dress was full of wrinkles. But on the bright side, I look great from behind.

I know I have a problem. I'm like a little kid when it comes to going to bed; I just don't want to. I don't want to miss out on any of the fun at night, or, as is more often the case, I'm postponing getting up the next day and heading back to the office. And this is a far cry from the days of yesteryear when Schatze and Roxy used to tease me because I would brush my teeth and wash my face during commercial breaks, all because I thought I needed to be asleep EXACTLY 8 hours before I had to get up. I was obsessed with this down to the minute and would start panicking when 11:03 came and I was wide awake and I knew my alarm would be going off at 7:01. I just don't know where I went wrong along the way.

Anyway, the thing about my problem that torments me the most is the fact that I just don't have time for cereal. I have confined myself to a life of on-the-go-breakfasts of cereal bars, bananas, yogurts, etc...when all I wish I had in my life was a little cereal. Yum. Now if I could just bring myself to stop getting back in my bed after my shower for a little nap, I would have plenty of time to fulfill this dream. And I might even look okay from the front every once in awhile.

What the? Part II

2005-08-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

As a follow up to my "God Bless You, Little Grace" post....check this article out.

The World is Collapsing Around Our Ears

2005-08-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

I've heard complaints about commercial radio from a couple of people lately. And believe me, I totally understand where they are coming from. Commercial radio is doing us peeps wrong, fo shizzle. However, I would like to name a few reasons why I won't throw in the towel yet.

Kelly Clarkson: The radio is really the only chance I'm going to have to hear "Since You've Been Gone" since I don't really plan on buying her CD. I know. I know. iTunes. iPod. I'm just not ready for that yet. This song came on the radio on my trip a couple of weeks ago and I tried really hard to listen to it, even though I had to ignore my grandmother who was talking to me on the phone at the time.

Radio Contests: I have radio station phone numbers programmed into my cell phone. And a radio contest inspired my trip to the Dominican Republic last year (which I bought myself after I didn't win 3x a day for 2 weeks). But I have won: an REM Monster CD (which is missing), a Billy Myers CD (who?), and Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert tickets.

The Celebrity Scoop: Since Schatze's subscription to People ended and my MSN-Entertainment-article-reading time has almost diminished, the only link I have to Brangelina, Bennifer and TomKat is what I hear on my morning drive or read in grocery store checkout line. (Did anyone see that pic of Annette Funicello on the cover of the Globe??)

Revelation: One morning as I listened to the radio while getting ready for work, I believe I had a moment of inspired revelation which came to me through Roxette and the lyrics of "Listen to Your Heart."

Glen Hollis: After learning that Delilah wasn't broadcast around here, I turned to the local soft rock radio host who does love song dedications in the evenings. His show's motto: "Everything he touches turns to love."

And I ask you: how could it not?

Last week on his show, I heard not one, but two different dedications of "Everything I Do, I Do It For You" by Bryan Adams. When I heard the first one, I was alone in my car and said outloud, "Awesome." And on Wednesday, I sat in the grocery store parking lot, risking running out of gas, just so I could listen to "Lady" by Kenny Rogers. I mean, it doesn't really get better than that.

Name That Song...Continued

2005-08-22T05:28:00.000-07:00

Okay peeps...here are more lyrics from the Name That Song that no one has been able to solve.

Hopefully this will bring someone across the finish line....

"Come back again
I want you to stay next time"

Name This Song

2005-08-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

Here are the same rules as last time:
Alright, everyone, it's time for Name That Song again. I would like to mention that previous winners can win again. No one has won twice so I thought I would make that clear. And anonymous readers out there, feel free to play too!

I really do mail the winner a prize, so please be honest and fair and don't ruin the fun by looking up the answer. (Terri, sorry you haven't gotten your prize yet. I did buy it before I left on my trip, but never made it to the post office...going today!!)

The first person to email me (my e-mail can be found through my profile page) with the correct song title and artist wins. Good luck.

This month's lyric is:

A home's the most excellent place of all
And I'll be right here if you should call me

The Good Times Are Killing Me

2005-08-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

When you drive across the country, music is going to be an important factor. So it's a good thing Neil has an iPod. And because he downloaded the music from my computer onto it the night before we left, it makes me smile to think that someday when he's listening to it in his car and he has it on random select, "The Right Stuff" by New Kids on the Block might come on.

But really I only had that song downloaded back from my days in the CD making business with Camelio Estevez. And I use the term "business" loosely. At EAR (Earth Angel Recordings), we only put money INTO the business. And our logo consisted of an angel sitting in a tree in the sky looking down on the earth. VERY clever. We put out 8 CDs total: a copy of "D.C. FSOF (Frisbee Summer of Fun) 2001" for each of the 7 participants in the FSOF and one wedding CD for a friend, who probably would have been more satisfied with a Tabernacle Choir CD. I would also like to add that on 7/8 of our CDs, we misspelled our own business name: Eearth Angel Recordings.

On the coast-to-coast trip, we made a pit stop in Winnemucca, NV. This is what happened there: I walked into the restroom where a middle aged woman was bent over right by the door when you walked in wearing nothing but her bra and panties. She jumped up and I avoided eye contact as she apologized for having no clothes on because her zipper had broken. That must have been some zipper.

When I came out of the restroom, I had to duck under a large neon yellow pole that had been put in the doorway at chest level with a CLOSED sign on it so the bathroom could be cleaned by a man who looked like this:

So while I was recounting the story of my shocking bathroom encounter, a woman walked right into the huge neon yellow pole and sign. And it was funny. Very funny. Almost as funny as when Neil walked directly into a waist-high pole at San Francisco State while checking out some dude's "backpack."

And as we drove away from Winnemucca, I was given the penance of listening to 5 minutes of Christian Rock for the $5 in quarters I lost in the slots during the redneck truck stop visit.

Now I would like to mention some food highlights of the trip:

1. Sausage Dogs, the Rodmans' house, Newton Falls, OH.
2. Peanut Brittle Sundae, Hickory Park, Ames, IA.
3. Chocolate Milk & Bananas, Fareway (?), Winterset, IA.
4. Tater Tots & Cheese, Sonic, Cheyenne, WY.
5. Salad Trio, Farmington, UT
6. Burger & Fry Sauce, Atlantis Burger, Bountiful, UT.
7. Filet Mignon, Ruby River, Provo, UT.
8. Rooty Tooty Fresh 'n' Fruity, IHOP, Sandy, UT.
9. Dessert Lunch, Kacy and Christan's, Provo, UT.
10.Grilled Cheese & Coke, JC's, Bear River City, UT
11.Buttermilk Fried Chicken, Farmington, UT.
12.Sausage & Prosciutto Tortellini, Pasta Pomodoro, San Bruno, CA.
13.In and Out Cheeseburger Combo followed by 2 Krispy Kremes (but one WAS a sample), Daly City, CA.
14.Repeat of #13.
15.Sausage Dog, Farmer's Market, South San Francisco, CA.
16.BLT, Boardwalk Court, San Bruno, CA.
17.Most Delicious Breakfast Ever, Boardwalk Court, San Bruno, CA.
18.Ribeye, Roasted Okra, Tomatoes & Fruit Cobbler, Boardwalk Court, San Bruno, CA.

Yes, I gained 5 pounds on this trip. And no, I haven't done anything about my hair although it was discussed at length with Carly when she sneaked into my room at her mother's house for some chitchat at 2 a.m. after everyone had gone to bed.

Now all I need is a two-week vacation to recuperate from my two-week vacation.

Hair: An Important Topic

2005-07-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

Before my former hairdresser Lyla moved to San Diego, I went to her faithfully and she always did a great job. We even discussed my hair icon Gwyneth Paltrow together. Now, I'm in no way disillusioned into thinking that I look like her. At all. Let's face it, when you, even jokingly, have been called boyface and then later in life, manface, it's impossible to see yourself in any Gwyneth way. And I have been told I look like my dad and my maternal grandfather--who are nice-looking, but MEN. Not unlike Gwyneth in Shakespeare in Love:

Anyway, what I will say about her is that we have the same hair type. We both have a lot of thin blonde hair. And thank goodness we have a lot, since it is thin (but I AM thickening mine with Mane & Tail Shampoo--love it love it love it). By choosing Gwyneth as a hair icon, this keeps me from becoming deceived into thinking I could pull off some haircut I see on a course-haired brunette that might ultimately leave me in tears. So basically the only thing I need to resist succumbing to is thinking I will leave the hairdresser's looking LIKE Gwyneth Paltrow, which I think I have finally mastered.

It has been over a year since Lyla left town and I began cutting my own hair. It has been fine because basically I never think my hair looks that good, so I might as well do it myself for free if I can get it to look acceptable, right? Well, it's time for a cut/trim again and so hair has been on my mind a lot. I mean, there's no telling how much time in the last 7 or 8 years I have spent looking up pics online of Gwyneth's hair. Nor can I tell you how many times I've had the Sliding Doors cut:

I don't really have a picture of myself with that cut, but you saw me with shorter hair in a previous post.

But basically, right now my hair looks (a little) like Gwyneth's in this picture. (Sorry about the link, but IMDB is so stingy with their photos!) Okay, it's not exactly the same, but you get the idea.

Plus in that picture I am, I mean Gwyneth is with Michael Douglas, who coincidentally is married to Catherine Zeta Jones. I remember seeing CZJ for the first time in The Mask of Zorro and thinking how beautiful she was--and then immediately being offended by my dark-haired grandmother who was with me when she leaned over and whispered, "I just really think dark-haired women are so much prettier than blonde ones." The fact that my instant message persona/screen name/pic is now Catherine Zeta Jones probably stems from that very day.

I really don't know what my dilemma is right now, I'm not planning on heading back to the short hair department yet. Maybe someday when I get too old to be able to pull off long hair and I start debating a perm...but for now should I go a little shorter? is medium length hair ever a good idea on me (all pictures point to no)? just keep going a little longer? keep going a lot longer? do I need bangs?

I get so confused when I look at pictures like these:

Someone tell me what to do.

Next, I would like to discuss a very personal topic with all of you out there on the internet. You see, I have a very low hairline in the back. I know. I'm not proud of it. When I got my first short haircut, I realized my low hairline wasn't going to cut it when the back of my new haircut was going to look somewhat like this:

It was at this point, that the hairdresser shaved the back of my neck (just like the man[face] that I am), moving my hairline up a little. I was horrified and shocked and embarrassed, even after learning it wasn't totally uncommon for short-haired women to do this.

And I was even more horrified and shocked and embarrassed than I am everytime I have my eyebrows waxed and the woman says, "You want a lip wax too?" No, I don't want a lip wax. Do I need one? Why is she even saying it? I think maybe she is just trying to make more money, especially since I have heard her ask the same thing of others who don't need a lip wax. But still, I did pause to consider if I really need one when she said to a woman on Friday "You want an eyebrow wax too?" and that woman really did need some eyebrow help.

But now back to the even worse topic of neck hair: Even now that I have longer hair, I haven't given up the shaving practice. It makes me feel a little better to have a higher hairline on the back of my neck, even if it is at the expense of having to maintain it and feel manly about doing it. Plus growing it out and it getting too prickly seems even worse. Anyway, it's something I think about a lot.

Gosh, there are so many questions about the length of my hair, the placing of my hairline, the amount of hair on my face and I haven't even touched the pros and cons of highlights...ahh well, another day perhaps.

Anyway, if I have upset you or grossed you out or sent you over the edge and you don't want to read my blog anymore because I'm suddenly Marcy Manly to you, I'll understand. I'll still be here alone with my hair obsessions, shaving my neck and thanking Heaven that Gwyneth is older than me so that I can follow her right into her old-age hair decisions.

Hopefully I'll see this soon.

2005-07-25T15:03:00.000-07:00

Who remembers Lance ? I do.

Bottoms Up

2005-07-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

For a long time I have been telling people that the Chinese don't drink during their meals. They eat all of their food and then have something to drink afterwards. I (thought I) learned that this aided in digestion. As a matter of fact, I was just talking about this last week, and, as usual, got the response, "I had never heard that."

Well today I was delighted when Roxy said, "I only drink after my meals. Just like the Chinese." I told her I have had recent conversations about this and no one has ever heard it, and so I was glad that she had. She then replied by telling me, "I think YOU'RE the only one who has ever heard of it." Apparently she was just teasing me because, for years, I have been telling her the Chinese did that.

Immediately I called Carly to try and back up my facts since she lived in China....no such custom that she knows of. And the closest I found on Google was an article about cultural customs that said the Chinese generally drink tea before or after their meals but not during. It just makes me wonder where I (thought I) heard this. And why do I feel inclined to tell everyone? Even now, I realize that I probably won't stop with this story. It's like a tradition for me to tell it. And I love rituals and traditions. Someday I will probably be sitting at the table as a grandmother telling anyone who will listen that the Chinese don't drink during their meals.

That story probably won't surprise you after I tell you that I have purchased the exact same present for my brother's birthday twice, and he is only 5. Not only did I go into the store and buy the same piggy bank I had already given him without even the slightest recollection of the first time, but I also called my mom and told her "I got Ethan one of those banks with the different compartments that you've always wanted him to have," which apparently is the EXACT same sentence I called and said to her the first time I got it for him.

The moral of the story: Take what I say with a grain of salt because apparently I'm making up stuff. or not remembering it. or doing it twice...

It's That Time Again

2005-07-17T09:51:00.000-07:00

Alright, everyone, it's time for Name That Song again. I would like to mention that previous winners can win again. No one has won twice so I thought I would make that clear. And anonymous readers out there, feel free to play too!

I really do mail the winner a prize, so please be honest and fair and don't ruin the fun by looking up the answer.

The first person to email me (my e-mail can be found through my profile page) with the correct song title and artist wins. Good luck.

This month's lyric is:

"And be careful of what you do ’cause the lie becomes the truth"

Edna was looking very glamorous

2005-07-14T08:52:00.000-07:00

I have loved Jeopardy for as long as I can remember.
I have hated Alex Trebek for just as long.
I try not to really swear, but everytime he reads a clue with a foreign word or phrase in an accent, I have to say "Bastard!" outloud.
Another phrase I will swear in is: "My memory is ass" which is actually a phrase coined about me by my roommates.
Back to Jeopardy.
Schatzy, Roxy and I used to watch and play along.
Roxy thinks you win if you say the answer loudest, not first.
Sometimes we would play where each of us had to answer every single question whether or not we had any clue what the question was about.
I seriously considered trying out to be a Clues Crew member.
I think the rounds should be a little longer. They don't need to leave 10 whole minutes for Final Jeopardy.
My mom told me that Alex and Pat Sajak don't get along. And that once when they passed in the hall, they stepped far away from each other. And Pat said Alex is a big egomaniac-bastard. This is all probably not true (except the egomaniac-bastard part), but I'm spreading the word anyway.
At the end of a taping of an episode where I was in the audience, the bastard made them retape him reading one of the clues with a foreign phrase so he could get his accent better. Twice.
I got those tickets to attend Jeopardy by mailing in a form found at IHOP.
Please read this.
Take it easy.

Come Away With Me

2005-07-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

If you visit me in Tennessee, there's really no tellin' what might happen. When a couple of my friends, affectionately referred to by Skewedview as the Cereal Brothers (they are not brothers, but their names ARE Krister and Crispen) visited a few years ago, we spent a fair amount of their one and a half day visit at Target looking at pajamas resembling a Twister game mat. And when Schatze and Roxy came, we took an hour detour from the 3-hour trip between my aunt's house and my dad's just so we could take a picture in front of a sign that said "Welcome to Nutbush, TN. Birthplace of Tina Turner."

I have just returned from a 10-day trip home which, again, did not disappoint. During Neil's 2-day-visit portion of the trip, the first thing we did was go straight from the airport to lunch. At a gas station. In a ghetto. We ate in the car with napkins as bibs as a man tried to sell us ankle socks.

The heat wave had ended and it wasn't too hot while he was there. Plus we had Skewedview's new pool to cool off in anyway. And I'm sure Neil wasn't alarmed or anything when my grandmother showed up to the big pool party that night with a shotgun.

Luckily, he had missed earlier escapades such as when we were at the lake and my cousin announced that the boat police were out and my aunt Diane, who had just gotten on the boat with a beer "better hide her booze" and her sister Patty misheard and started yelling "Diane, hide your boobs!" Or when we sat around for a long time playing a made up game where someone asks a question where the answer is a word that ends in O and you have to say the answer followed by "yo." For example, "What did Austin Power lose?" "His mojo, yo." Or later that night when we were setting off a lot of fireworks and Skewedview and I requested that Diane sing "God Bless America" while he and I provided backup for her. No one seemed too impressed except my uncle Tim who threw some quarters at us. And on the 4th of July, while the rest of America was cooking out, we were at home watching Danny Deckchair and having the best Banana Splits of my life for dinner.

In other food-related events, one day we went to The Old Country Store for a late lunch and ordered the buffet. When the buffet was ready, one of the cooks came out of the back and loudly rang a large triangle to let us know the chow was ready, causing a mad rush by about 15 people hidden behind the door waiting for their supper. But the best was during the NASCAR-style drive back to DC. Neil and I stopped for a country breakfast at a restaurant next door to Loretta Lynn's Kitchen called the Log Cabin. When Neil headed to the restroom, he walked in on a man who had not locked the door. As he apologized and turned to step out of the one-room restroom containing a toilet and a urinal, the man quickly spoke up in his thick country accent and told Neil to come on in, "It's a two-holer."

And that, ya'll, was nigh on one of the best trips home I've had in a month of Sundays.

We're Longfellows.

2005-06-29T09:51:00.000-07:00

When Carly and I worked together at the RB in college, one of our favorite past times was writing Roses are Red poems for each other. I really wish I could share the cream of the crop with you, however most of those are not appropriate for publishing online. Anyway...here are a few of the remaining at-least-somewhat-appropriate ones-- some by me, some by Carly. Names have sometimes been coded, changed or omitted to protect the innocent (or Carly and me).

Roses are red
I wear my overalls daily.
Roots is a novel
written by Alex Haley.

Roses are red
We like our men fat
We'll just feed 'em lots of CG's
and they'll turn out like that.

Roses are red
My face is pallid and wan.
If I need to throw up,
I'll just run to the john.

Roses are red
our work calendar sucks.
I think on The Real World
There should be many more Pucks.

Roses are red
I like lots of boys
I love 'em and leave'em
And treat 'em like toys.

Roses are red
I'd go eat some worms
but they are so slimy
and full of those germs.

Roses are red
XXX XXX's legs are so hairy.
If he doesn't hide them,
he never will marry.

Roses are red
I used to like Bill.
But that was so stupid
'cause now look how I feel.

Roses are red
I saw you kiss Opie.
And now when you see him
you feel really dopey.

Roses are red
I never read Ethan Frome
But I tell you one thing
I've got stinky-feet syndrome.

Roses are red
Bill is a pity.
'Cause he could have had you,
but he chose Salt Lake City.

Roses are red
Mike is a cutie.
He's better than Matt
despite his inferior booty.

Roses are red
Donettes are my fave
Second only to CG's
Thank Heavens for Dave.

Roses are red
Matt is definitely a hottie
'cause he has a really cute face
and a damn sexy body.

Roses are red
My favorite males here at work
are Rudy and Micah
but not Doug--he's a jerk.

Roses are red
We are so freakin' funny
but enough to do stand-up
and earn lots of money.

Roses are red
We are the queens of stalking
Sometimes we stand around
or pretend that we're walking.

Roses are red
I'm sittin' here eatin'
The first Batman movie
starred Michael Keaton.

Roses are red
Beck is a stud
When dirt gets real wet
they start calling it mud.

Roses are red
I'm going to Beck
I wonder if I'll get
to go backstage and neck?

Roses are red
Your pants are shiny not denim.
They turned XXXX XXXX's head
or is it what's in 'em?

Roses are red
I rhyme like Adam Sandler
If Jobdirect doesn't work
I'll be a panhandler.

Roses are red
I need to get in shape.
Do you think I could do it
with saran wrap and scotch tape?

Roses are red
I'm too lazy for thin thighs.
I need a personal trainer
who'll hit me when I eat pizzapies.

Roses are red
monkeyboy is old news
'cause he's against our philosophy
of sex, drugs and booze.

Roses are red
today at one-thirty
I wanted to hug you
'cause you are so perty.

Roses are red
if we sit under the stars
we will fall in love
and neck in parked cars.

Roses are red
those Hansons are cute.
they sing and they play
and are pretty to boot.

Roses are red
you love your teacher
but it could be much worse
he could be a preacher.

Roses are red
Monkeyboy sucks
I'll bet he likes barbies
rather than trucks.

Roses are red
I have a bad farmer's tan
from frying in the sun
like an egg in a pan.

Roses are red
I need thousands of dollars
but I like hard workers
with blue, not white collars.

Roses are red
I'm sick of my classes
there's a box in the JKHB
for donating eyeglasses.

Roses are red
I love Al Green.
his songs get me hot
if you know what i mean.

Roses are red
Indigo Girls: lesbian
you say you're a drama queen
but I say "master thespian."

Roses are red
like Opie's red hair
i must have been smoking
when we had our affair

Roses are red
Rudy's in the Bronx
Let's hope there are no women there
or that they live like monks.

Roses are red
I like Britney Spears
She'll be on "Teen Idols"
in just a few years.

Thursday was a BIG Day for Me

2005-06-22T08:16:00.000-07:00

This is a photo I took last week (which means that lady is not me, just in case any of you think it might be).

Following his speech, the President came down from the stand, and since I was in the center of the front row, I got to meet him. As my boss introduced me and told the President I worked for him, I shook Bush's hand and touched his arm twice. He said "Thank you" to me...possibly for working for my boss? But I like to think it was for the arm touches.

Skewedview and Me

2005-06-19T06:09:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's Day, Skewedview.
Love, Missy

One Day Early

2005-06-16T07:08:00.000-07:00

Because I won't have internet access tomorrow, I've pushed up the Name that Song day to the 16th this month.

Be the first to EMAIL ME (see my profile page for email address) with the correct artist and song title to win a smashing prize. Good luck.

Name this song:

So draw the curtain, honey.
Turn the lights down low.
We'll find some country music on the radio.

Why do you want to see this crap so much, Missy?

2005-06-13T21:42:00.000-07:00

This was what my 5-year-old brother said to me yesterday regarding Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I'm not saying it wasn't crap, but I found it to be entertaining crap and I liked it--even if it does have freaky Angelina who wore Billy Bob's blood around her neck and denied an incestuous relationship with her brother even though they look like this, or Mr. Pitt who is clearly not in anyone's good graces right now, well except for the brother-kisser's. But I have a hard time hating him ever since Schatze turned me on to the way he eats. But I'm not too hard to please anyway when it comes to movies--or at least I'm no movie snob like my brother.

I wonder what his opinion would be of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. A few years ago, Roxy introduced me to the book. It was cute and I, in turn, gave it to my 13-year-old sister. Needless to say, we were excited for the movie to come out. I was able to resist Roxy & Camelio's invitation to fly out for opening night, and when I did see it here, I was 1 of only 4 people who left the theater with dry eyes. Since then, I have received a recorded voice message from the actresses in the film, as well as 2 Sisterhood e-cards, courtesy of Schatze and Pickles. Maybe we are all obsessed, but that's nothing new for me. You should check it out. Laugh. Cry. Share the Pants.

Speaking of celebrities, on Sunday at the munch and mingle I was able to meet the anonymous commenter and friend of VGQA from a couple of posts back. Actually meeting someone who stumbled on to my blog immediately after I saw the blonde-ticket-avoiding-testimony-girl from the same post at the symphony on Friday night made me realize I need to be a little more careful about whom and what I write. Maybe my ward better be off limits--although I'm really cutting off a valuable resource with that one. ouch.

Lizer, This One's For You

2005-06-08T11:43:00.000-07:00

This is pretty cool. (Thanks, Roxy)

Party Like It's 1999

2005-06-06T14:13:00.000-07:00

After I wrote in my last post that I had gone out the night before in a nightgown with a chocolate ice cream stain on it, I proceeded to spill more chocolate ice cream down the front of my pink sweater that night. So it's no wonder that at our annual summer cookout on Saturday night, as Neil passed out his delicious blondie (and by delicious blondie I don't mean Debbie Harry) desserts, he cautioned me to be careful not to spill salsa on my white pants. And he didn't even know that I had gone to Target that day with a huge dirt stain across my shirt.

Other than apparently eating like a slob the entire time, I had a great weekend. During my pre-ice-cream-stained Thursday night, I saw the very good question asker at a bridal shower and seriously considered going home and deleting the post I had written about her. I could barely respond to her because all I was thinking about was how I had written about her on my blog. And how she reads blogs. And has now read Kacy's & Christian's. And how she is just one step away from finding me out. And now I have pictures of myself on my blog...

Friday, I saw A Midsummer Night's Dream at an outdoor theater where I was even entertained with a heated argument on the row in front of me during intermission. And our cookout on Saturday was a success and everyone who attended seemed to have a good time, even if Pickles and I never did get around to leg wrestling. (Pickles, you are still on anytime--bring your own pants.) However, while everyone was eating and mingling in the moonlight, they were oblivious to some funny things that had happened/were happening behind the scenes.

No one knew that when our first guest arrived 20 minutes early, Schatze was not all the way dressed and had to do some military style crawling under the windows...or that when I went upstairs to find a needle so Pickles could show us a trick, Schatze, Karen and I had a good laugh over our guest who was in the living room all alone and singing "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane really loudly to no one but himself. As we came down the stairs after eavesdropping on the singer, Jonas was at the bottom of the stairs saying, "Where's Marcy and Tiffany?" (And by Tiffany, we assume he meant Schatze)...he then told us that they were taking off and had "lost [the Living Room singer] to the music an hour ago." After which the Living Room singer was just standing there with his hand in the air. What was he doing? Waving? No one really knows...but Schatze gave him a high 5 just in case that's what he was looking for.

Yesterday was not a bad day either...especially after a girl in our ward confessed in her testimony to swearing. "But it's not like I'm mad or anything...it's more for comic relief." After which she told us she usually can get out of anything..."like when I get pulled over. I don't pay for this blonde hair for nothing." And after church, we came home and were able to break our fast (or devour like wild animals) with a LOT of cookout leftovers and shoot the breeze on the deck for a couple of hours, and that, my friends, is a mad crunk weekend.

Suddenly, I'm Not Half the Man I Used to Be

2005-06-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

I was parked behind Schatze in the driveway yesterday so when I offered to drive her to McDonald's for the McFlurry she was craving, I didn't even bother to change out of my nightgown with an ice cream stain on the front.

And after we got home, I got in my bed and Schatze stood in the doorway to my room wearing her new Bono sunglasses and asking me questions like, "Would you rather kiss Little Richard or Richard Simmons?" She was also surprised that I would rather kiss Vin Diesel than LL Cool J. After all, it's true that the Ladies Love Cool James (but probably not as much as Schatze).

Yesterday, I seriously considered the fact that I have been taking advantage of the casual dress policy at work when, for once, I did dress up and my boss assumed I had a job interview. But that doesn't mean I'm not back in my capris today and just staring at the ringing phone saying "hmmmm" before I answer it.

Flowers & Chicken Chunks & No Pictures Whatsoever.

2005-05-31T13:32:00.000-07:00

I bought some peonies this weekend and put them in my room because my mom gave me a vase for Christmas and told me they were for peonies. I thought that was sweet because she knows I think they are gorgeous and smell so good. I definitely think they are the prettiest and nicest smelling flowers. But I have had a problem staring at them, it's like I can't stop. I think Wayne thinks I'm crazy because I have made her come up to my room three times to look at them.

I wanted to put a picture on this post but all my searches for peonies have been fruitless. Not to mention the fact that I have said the word "peony" so many times that it is starting to sound funny and I don't even know how I pronounce it anymore. Anyway, I didn't realize there were so many different looking peonies, and all the pictures I have found that look like the ones I have cannot be saved or even linked to. So if, for some strange reason, you really want to see what they look like, click here and then see the photo taken by Marechal MacMahon.

Maybe I really will have to consider a camera phone, as I have been advised, to be a proper blogger. I mean, last week I wasted some good blodder because I needed a picture of a nasty product I saw in the drug store by the beef jerky...dried buffalo chicken chunks. I looked all over the Tyson's website but couldn't find them. And now this whole peony photo debacle.

And frankly, I would have liked to have taken a picture of my lunch today. I went across the street to a cafe that I will never go to again (which is exactly what I said the last time I went). The joint is creepy and there is a major language barrier problem going on with me and the cashier.

Him: That will be $7.07. (I think this is what he said, despite the fact that it could not possibly be the right price according to what it said on the menu.)

Me: 7.07?

Him: Something I didn't understand

Me: (handed over $20.07)

Him: Something I didn't understand (gave me back $10)

Me: (Too confused and annoyed with myself that I had actually come back there to argue, took money and gross lunch and left.)

XYZ

2005-05-29T17:37:00.000-07:00

I guess it was about time for me to give a talk since I have made it through almost 5 years in the ward without doing it yet. And if I HAD to, I was glad that it was on a holiday weekend when over half my ward is off gallivanting at the beach together. Yet the pressure from having a surprise visit from a General Authority on the stand possibly vetoed the fact that the congregation was only half full, especially considering that it was just after I sat down from standing in front of that General Authority giving my talk that I realized the zipper on the back of my skirt was half-way unzipped.

I would also like to mention that during a ward Q&A session with the GA after Sacrament meeting, a girl raised her hand with a question. And she humbly prefaced her question with: "I think this is a really good question for a lot of different reasons." Then I came home and read Christian F.'s post about how his dad had called him unhip, and when I clicked over to read his dad's linked post, the very-good-question-asker had commented there. What a coincidence.

This weekend, I need to trim my hair just a tiny bit because the ends are getting a little untidy and starting to split. But now that I cut my own hair, I get really nervous and usually postpone cutting it for a long time before building up my courage and buckling down and doing it. At our April Enrichment meeting, a girl with really frizzy, brittle hair suggested sleeping in conditioner twice a week. I thought I would try this last night in lieu of actually cutting off the split ends in a timely manner. But I wasn't about to sleep with conditioner in my hair and let that hair touch my pillow, so instead I slept in a clear plastic saran-wrap-like head covering that made a crinkling noise all night. And thus my hair was really flat today, but with my zipper down, who was really looking anyway?

Obsessions: Past & Present

2005-05-25T14:49:00.000-07:00

In no particular order, here are some of my life's obsessions:

Weezer. In a previous post, I showed my Weezer fan club card. I joined in high school and would get monthly updates in the mail from the fan club presidents. They even sent us an annual listing of all the other Weezer fan club members so we could meet up with other locals. And when I was a Freshman at BYU, I got a call from a fellow club member in a nearby dorm. I force myself to listen to the cds over and over until I love every song, especially the ones that take awhile to grow on me.

NASCAR. Say what you want, I think it is C-O-O-L.

Top Gun: When I was a Freshman at BYU, I watched this movie about once a week. I felt the need, the need for speed. During the opening credits when the screen is on that talks about the school and then ends with "they call it...Top Gun"----yeah, I had that memorized.

BYU Basketball player to remain nameless. In my scrapbook from my Freshman year, I have pictures I cut out of him from The Daily Universe Sports section. But we DID go to the Heritage Halls Invitational together! After he returned from his mission and basketball practice had started, I bought a new outfit and waited on some stairs in the RB I knew he would have to pass on his way back from practice to the Fieldhouse. When he did pass, I act surprised to see him. After we talked, and he asked if he could come over that night then headed over to the Fieldhouse, there was some major hug-jumping between Carly and me in the Intramural office.

John Wayne. I don't think I need to explain this to any of you after last week's post.

Romeo & Juliet. The movie. With Leonardo. I have a page in my scrapbook dedicated to it, too. I saw it 3x in the theater. I have the soundtracks (Vol. 1 & Vol. 2) This obsession post is making me realize I was a freaky, nutso Freshman.

One of the local bands in Provo from my Freshman year (again), and another obsession that will remain nameless. My partners in crime (and "crime" is more literal than you know) and I went to every concert they had. I had a t-shirt and a CD. If there were words on the CD we couldn't understand, we would record that song onto a tape and listen to it in slow motion. I won't even write anymore, because the rest is too shameful.

Food. Yes, just food in general. I LOVE it. Dang. I need to get some right now.

Baby Names. Well, I guess mostly just names in general. I like to know name meanings, middle names, write lists of names I like, etc. I have been doing it forever. Once Lizer blogged about it, and then we had to email and share all our favorites.

The Number 9. It's so cool. I was a math geek in high school. Thank goodness for DVD players because I can get distracted watching the VCR counter waiting for it to hit multiples of 9. If any number is short enough (less than 6 digits or so), I quickly figure out if it is a multiple of 9 or not.

Italy. It all started with Italian class at BYU and the bello men who taught it. And there was Carly which only fueled the obsession fire. We bought dresses to wear to a club there (our Italy dresses) and leather passport cases to use when we went. We took pictures of ourselves making gnocchi at my apartment and left them in our teacher's mailbox. I could go on and on. Really. Have either of us been yet? No.

Ok although, I could go on with more obsessions, I'll just stop here and conclude with:

Blogging. My roommates fear my blogging obsession. "Where's Marcy?" "Probably blogging." Wayne leaves me notes on her computer b/c she knows I will get them when I go to check blogs in the basement on my Fridays off. All of you who have blog trackers probably think I am a stalker....And according to this post, I haven't done a dang thing to prove you wrong.

Adios Amigos. Sorry if I Sat Too Close.

2005-05-24T06:45:00.000-07:00

Well, the Guats moved out on Saturday, but not before I was almost attacked by one of their chickens. As a matter of fact, I never knew they had any chickens until Saturday. Schatze and I went over to talk to Ophelia and tell her goodbye, when suddenly we were on a tour of their house, followed by a look at the chickens in the back yard. They have a wooden pen up against the house that had 5 chickens in it. I scooted up to look in, and as she opened the lid, one of the chickens flew up and all I saw were giant wings flapping in front of me. I screamed and jumped back and everyone laughed--Ophelia, Schatze and the next door neighbor who, for some reason, was right up against the fence watching. I felt a bit sheepish, but I bet anyone would have done the same with those giant chicken wings flapping so close--especially someone like me who had been attacked (and by attacked I mean flown into) by a bird years ago. Anyway, we exchanged phone numbers and Ophelia told us, "Just call me whenever you want to talk to me. Let's say goodbye before I cry." Ahh me, sad hours seem long.

Speaking of hours that seem long, my roommates' new favorite joke is discussing who has to sit by me at church. "Well, I have to sit by her in Sunday School, so you have to have Relief Society. But who will take Sacrament meeting?" So I volunteered to sit separately, but that didn't happen in the end. You see, my roommates think I'm a close sitter. And maybe I am. Schatze likes to tell everyone how 2 weeks ago I was "cupping" her, meaning I had my arm on the pew behind her and my leg crossed towards her. When she told me to stop cupping her, I scooted away. But after church, I was informed that when moving away from Schatze, I had moved too close to Wayne. I guess I am going to have to continue working on avoiding personal space invasion.

And finally, on an even more unrelated note, have you seen the previews for Hell's Kitchen and Dancing with the Stars ? I can't believe they are even real shows.

It's Celebrate NASCAR Day

2005-05-20T07:35:00.000-07:00

So what you're supposed to do is wear a NASCAR pin to work. But I don't work on Fridays. And I don't have the pin (although I may head over to AutoZone to pick one up anyway). So what I have been doing so far is wearing my Jimmie Johnson blanket around all day. And I could play Solitaire with my Jeff Gordon deck of playing cards. Any other ideas? What I wish I could do is see the NASCAR 3D IMAX narrated by Kiefer again. But the closest one is in Baltimore and I have an appointment to get my car's oil changed, tires rotated, etc in 20 minutes. Maybe I'll drive there really fast--that seems NASCARY. Any other ideas? Let me know and in the meanwhile, here's a little pic of Jimmie for ya:

I Twirl My Hair Without Realizing It

2005-05-19T06:36:00.000-07:00

# of minutes spent looking at pics of Tony and Jack on IMDB.com yesterday: 14

# of minutes spent trying to save those pictures for my blog: 9

# of pictures saved: 0

# of times "work hard" is listed on my notecard to-do list this week: 4

# of Neil Diamond CDs ordered this week: 1

# of days 'til the pools open: 8

# of miles can run without stopping to walk: .75

# of men in the car behind me on the way to work this morning doing a major air drum solo: 1

# of Ashton Kutcher movie clips shown at Enrichment last night: 1

# of times can wear sunglasses without feeling like a poser: 0
(I can't help it. I don't feel cool enough to pull them off, therefore I only wear them when I really need them--like at the pool or the beach--or as a headband.

# of famous people attempted to call yesterday: 6

# of famous people reached: 0

# of rude men lied to by me yesterday: 1

# of times spoke with mom on her cell phone re: John Wayne while she was in the middle of teaching her class yesterday: 2

# of men behind me last night in the grocery store checkout line who touched the cashier's chest while I was paying: 1

Man, You Really Freak Me Out

2005-05-18T07:08:00.000-07:00

Every morning this week, the exact same thing has happened and it is a little freaky. All three days when I have arrived at work between 8:35 and 8:40am, the same man is arriving at the exact same time I am. He is just ahead of me as we drive into the parking garage and he has the same car as me except his is silver. We contine down the ramps to level 2 where he turns left into a space against the wall. He throws his car into Reverse as I pass and turn to the right and pull all the way through so I can pull out front first at the end of the day and making a lovely symmetrical lineup of cars facing the aisle: Corolla, BMW, BMW, Corolla. Silver car man continues to reverse and pull in until his car is perfectly lined up in the very center of his space as I head into the lobby. I push the button for the elevator and wait. Suddenly the door flies open abruptly and silver car man comes plowing into the lobby, hits the elevator button (even though it is already lit up from me pushing it), then proceeds to the opposite side of the lobby and stands against the wall in the corner as far away from me as he can possibly get. A few seconds later the same elevator (even though there are four)opens and we get on. He gets off on 7 and I get off on 9. That's it. Maybe I should be on time tomorrow.

If Tony Dies, Marcy Cries.

2005-05-17T05:10:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago when it started being evident that Tony and Michelle were going to get back together, I said that they were just trying to reel us in and then they will kill one of them off. I was hoping it would be Michelle, but now I'm nervous with Tony taken hostage and all. Should I have been up worrying about this like I was from 3-4 a.m. this morning? Probably not. But, seriously, sometimes I am more attracted to Tony than even Jack. Don't hate me for that. I love Tony and I am not exaggerating when I say I will shed a tear if they wipe him out.

Today on May 17th, the 9th Anniversary of my graduation from high school, and Name That Song day, I give you these lyrics:

"..if I hurt you, I'd make wine from your tears."

Comment on Tony, but be the first to EMAIL ME (see my profile page) with the title and artist to win the prize.

Don't Freak Your Beak

2005-05-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

Our neighbors, the Guats (that is not a racial slur but just an example of my 10-year habit of abbreviating everything) are moving and we are sad. They have helped us a lot. Including the time they ruined their Target credit card trying to unjam my door, or when I hoisted their teenage son Pedro up so he could crawl through our side window and let me in after I ran outside one morning and locked myself out. Or when they shoveled out two and a half feet of snow so I could park Roxy's car. Or when they helped start Schatze's car. In preparation for their move, they have constant access to a HUGE truck they keep filling up that says something about The Purple Heart on the side. Where did they get that truck? And how do they have so much stuff to keep putting in it? They also took down their particle board shed in the back yard this weekend that had "Syke" written in spraypaint on the side.
Guats, I will miss you.

I really really really wanted to go to the NASCAR race in Richmond this past Saturday night. My only consolation was that Jimmie was out in the v. beginning and was barely in any of the race, which would have been highly disappointing had I been there.

On two separate occasions I have been asked about NASCAR this weekend. Once was by Ann at the munch and mingle after church, who followed up by telling us, "I always see you girls mingling, but never with guys." Thanks, Ann, for your tact.

Don't forget tomorrow is Name that Song Day!

This weekend I switched out my summer and winter clothes and felt like I am a materialistic sinner when I saw how many I own. Today I wore a skirt that has been packed away for the winter and when I went to put something in my back pocket I found: 1 leftover ride ticket from the Utah State Fair from my visit last Fall, 1 movie ticket from the Tower Theater in SLC for Danny Deckchair (see it if you haven't) and FIFTY DOLLARS. I can't wait to decide what glorious thing I will spend it on!

And finally a question: When peeps sing and they have that vibrato voice, are they doing that on purpose or does it just happen? I'm sincere in this question. We had a really fast vibrato singer yesterday for our special musical number and it got me to thinking.

Please Don't Break My Heart by Writing Negative Comments About John Wayne

2005-05-14T08:07:00.000-07:00

I will not relent in my love for John Wayne, despite the fact that I have been openly mocked by three different people this week for it. But I think it is in my blood.

When I was in high school, my aunt gave my mom one of those life-size, stand-up cardboard cut-outs of John Wayne for a joke. I put it in the window next to our back door so when anyone drove up or came in, there was John Wayne looking out the window at them. My sister didn't think that was cool so she would always move it and then I would put it back and then she would move it again. This went on for months.

Whenever I talk to my grandmother on the phone, my grandfather will pick up just so we can have a little banter from True Grit and then hang up. When they were here last week and I was in the parking lot headed to my car, my grandfather walked out to the balcony of the motel and we had to yell it to each other from there, too. He says, "Coooorrrrn Dodger?" Then I say, "Light a match, and let me see if there's blood on it first." Then he laughs and says, "We ain't lightin' no matches!" And once for his birthday, my mom and I got him a cake that said "Corn dodger" on it instead of "Happy Birthday." (Everytime we eat we also have to say another line from the True Grit: "I've had enough. And enough is as good as a feast."

John Wayne's favorite character he ever played was Ethan Edwards from The Searchers. He even named his son Ethan after him. My brother is also named Ethan. (Ethan Christopher that is. But my mom now wishes it were Ethan Chance, after JW's character in The Hellfighters.)

My brother Ethan loves John Wayne and has already started reciting his lines at age 4 (the legacy continues!).

A few years ago I was in Moab, and I made our group make a special trip to the lobby of the Apache Motel, where John Wayne stayed while filming a movie once, so I could get a picture of myself there---and they even had pictures of him hanging on the walls!

Last year I celebrated my birthday with a dinner at a restaurant a half-hour south of here called The True Grit Restaurant.

I have read 2 biographies of John Wayne.

I have been asked by more than one friend to recommend John Wayne movies to give to their dads. (including Schatze whose dad insists on calling him The King instead of The Duke. He knows that Elvis is the King, but insists that John Wayne is the King to him.)

It is normal for me to give at least one gift related to John Wayne a year to my mom.

My mom has written a letter to one of John Wayne's sons.

Only a few months into my job, my boss was in a meeting and he had his door open. He and the other man had both been Marines and our office is near the Iwo Jima Memorial so their topic of conversation turned to the movie The Sands of Iwo Jima. As I sat at my desk down the hall, I listened to them talk about the movie and spend a few minutes trying to remember John Wayne's character's name. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and just confessed to my eavesdropping by yelling down the hall "It's Seargant Striker!"

Besides owning John Wayne movies, I have a coffee table book on my shelf The Duke: A Life in Pictures as well as a CD America: Why I Love Her. It has patriotic music over which John Wayne narrates stories and poems about America.

While I was at BYU, Carly and I briefly got into writing at e-pinions.com. I wrote 2 v. passionate reviews of True Grit & The Quiet Man.

In 2004, a friend of mine had a St. Patrick's Day party where we watched The Quiet Man. It was a lovely affair and when we all received our invitations in the mail, they included a line stating that I would be there to talk about the movie with my vast John Wayne knowledge. It was a lot of pressure, but I really came through.

I have to admit that I feel like I know John Wayne and that he is part of my family. I think it's hereditary (my mom saw Big Jake in the theater 6 times as a kid)...or maybe it's just his manly man, tough guy, patriotic, father-figure image that none of us can resist.

If It's Too Loud, Turn it Down

2005-05-11T07:08:00.000-07:00

Well, my grandparents are out of here this morning, but not before some memorable times. For example, my grandfather called all restaurant servers, National Park Rangers, and basically any male working anywhere "Bud." He also was not happy that Chipotle (a restaurant serving ONLY tacos and burritos) didn't have any mustard.

My grandmother and I went shopping on Friday. And we had to go to multiple TJMaxx stores to find the right size in a certain pair of pants that she LOVED. And she loved them for me. And they are actually pretty cute, if you live at the beach.

But I have been thinking about living at the beach ever since I took a quiz online and Miami and Honolulu were in the top 5 cities in America that best fit me. It must be because I'm a "sun worshipper" as my grandmother likes to call me. I can't help it. I LOVE to be outside and feel the hot sun beating down on my skin. And for that skin to turn tan. If I could have my way, I would be this color year round:

However, I will just have to accept that I will be pale for 75% of the year. Plus that picture was taken after a trip to the Domincan Republic and two trips to Florida.

So I have a few recommendations for other sun worshippers out there and they are:

1. Olay Quench Radiance Reviver Body Lotion

and

2. Hoola bronzer by Benefit

Anyway, back to the story. After my grandmother took about 10 pictures of me in my new Miami pants, I said goodbye to my grandpa and her. Their trip was a lot of fun--very memorable.

And this morning, as I blared my new Weezer CD and blew bubbles with my Bubblicious Lebron's Lightning Lemonade gum, I realized I may have reverted back to my teenage years with my grandparents gone. I found myself hitting 2 different stores late last night looking for the new Weezer CD, solely because I felt like I needed to buy it on the day it came out. You see, this is me over 10 years ago:

This Weezer fan club card was made by the original fan club presidents Mykel and Carli (R.I.P.). The Blue Album was the first CD I ever owned. And I bought Pinkerton and the Green Album on the day they came out, so it is only natural that I should pick up Make Believe on its debut. As I walked into the store, I felt a pain of guilt about Maladroit--the only Weezer CD I don't own, and decided I better get it as well. However, it was the only Weezer CD that the record store didn't have either. I will just have to pick it up later I guess. They did have a Punk Tribute to Weezer--which I am interested in finding out more about--including a cover of "Tired of Sex" by a band called the "Latterday Saints."

I love the new CD, but it is my opinion they can never outdo the Blue Album. And having only listened all the way through once so far, my initial favorite song is "This is Such a Pity." And I'm back on the Weezer train.

Did You Know

2005-05-09T10:53:00.000-07:00

That in my office I have:

1. my Jimmie Johnson calendar on the wall.
2. a newspaper article pinned to the wall with the headline "Sexy Rummy" about Donald Rumsfeld mailed to me by Roxy a couple of years ago.
3. 3 business cards taped to my desk from a Congressman who gives me one everytime I see him.
4. an award for Gerald Ford hanging on my wall. Why is it not on his wall?
5. a lamp and small clock on my desk--to make it seem more homey. Even though I have a huge window and plenty of light. And I never look at that clock for the time. And my office doesn't really look homey even with them because of all the huge piles of stuff everywhere.

That Regarding My Blog:

1. I suspect I have an avid reader (stalker) who is Japanese. (If you are there, identify yourself!)
2. The majority of search engine searches that have led to my blog involve country music terms. I don't really listen to country more than any other music, but I guess I talk about it more.
3. The minority of search engine searches that have led people to my blog include such disturbing things as: "pull up her skirt", "eavesdrop on girls conversations on the web", "BYU bellydancing", "stacie's nude website", and not one but TWO searches for "Paula Abdul's breasts."

Today's color is: Pick-Me-Up Pink

2005-05-05T07:17:00.000-07:00

It doesn't take much work to prep for my grandparents' visit--just making sure I have plenty of lipstick in my purse, and that I apply it often. That's the number one thing. I don't know what the deal is with my grandmother and lipstick, but it is a big deal with her. I wish I had a nickel for everytime she has said any of the following to me:

"You need some darker lipstick on."
"Run back there and put on some lipstick before I take your picture."
"I've got some lipstick in my purse if you need some."
"Oh did you have a good time at the [insert activity here]? I hope you had your lipstick on."
"Don't forget to put on your lipstick before you run to the store, you never know who you'll run into. You can't take any chances"
And by who I run into she means that she hopes it will be my future husband. And Heaven forbid, I run into my future husband without lipstick.

I joke about this, but, in truth, I have taken a little of it to heart. And it doesn't help that it was reinforced by the movie Evita. Roxy and I noticed that in the end of the movie, when Evita is dead, the only difference in her appearance is a lack of lipstick. And she really does look dead. Pale lips = bad. Anyway, this probably isn't a problem for everyone...I'm sure it depends on your natural lip color, your skin color, etc...but it is a problem for Madonna and me. What I'm saying is, I have a lot of lipstick on right now and I'm sure I will be continuously reapplying over the next week. And I'm also sure my grandmother will be happy that my hair is just a little bit longer than it was at Christmas.

Other than being lip-prepared for their visit, I hid a few things under my bed and wiped the inside of my car down while I was driving in to work today and now I'm all ready for their arrival. Their motel is reserved. I've got directions on hand to all the nearest country buffets. Let the adventures begin!

Calling All Supertasters (and everyone else, too)

2005-05-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

Skewedview sent me this Sensory Test. Give it a try. Let's hope you get a higher score than my pitiful 7/20.

Some Things I Want To Tell You

2005-05-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

1. I really like places with juke boxes. You can hear whatever you want! And it's only a quarter!
2. Our dinner on the deck yesterday was only briefly interrupted by our neighbor behind us running out his back door and vomiting over the side of his deck while we all watched.
3. I have been watching Grey's Anatomy on Sunday nights. It's fairly good but for some reason at 10pm on a Sunday night, during the "Sunday night 'I've got to go to work in the morning' Blues," it seems really really good. And it has Patrick Dempsey. And the final narration at the end of the show always seems so wise at 11:00 at night. Schatze has a piece of paper where she writes down things they say that we like. Sometimes when we go back and read them though, they just seem ordinary when taken out of context. For example, the line we thought was so great last week was "The pain is real." Wow. THAT IS INSIGHTFUL. Last night we wrote down, "Knowing is better than wondering," which was said by Ben Franklin, and therefore merits notetaking I think. But I'll refrain from writing my personal favorite line from a few weeks ago because it is not really ladylike for me to repeat.
4. During a round of Catch Phrase on Saturday, I blurted out, "If you don't talk good...."
5. I just got an email from Schatze with the subject line of: "Gay Tickle Update" in which she updates me on the sleuth work she has done about 2 guys in front of us at stake conference yesterday who were massaging and tickling each others' backs while we obsessively gawked, speculated and Schatze took a trip to the restroom so she could walk past them and check them out on all sides.
6. The annoying construction going on in front of our house is slightly less irritating because of the fact that we have each picked a boyfriend construction worker to watch and talk about. And they know we are doing it and laughing at us. literally. we saw them laughing at us.

Howard Hughes' Heroine Haughty, However Handsome Henry Hits Home

2005-04-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

A few years ago while visiting Williamsburg, I became enamored of Patrick Henry. And by Patrick Henry, I mean the man who was playing Patrick Henry. After his speech in the House of Delegates, I whispered to Schatze that I wanted to get a pic of him....We hung around until everyone was gone and I asked if I could get my picture made with him. My only regret is that I accidentally had black & white film in my camera and you can't see how my face flushed with his unexpected touch of my shoulder.

Around that same time (and during that same roll of film), I was at a conference for work where Jane Russell was in attendance. I also wanted a picture with her because I thought it would be cool to glue it in the cover of my book Bombshell Manual of Style. After all, she is mentioned in it. Well, as you can see, I got the photo, but only at the expense of a dream shattered by her rude attitude toward me.

Never Startle Me When I'm Asleep

2005-04-21T20:35:00.000-07:00

My grandparents are coming in a couple of weeks for their third visit since I've lived here in D.C. The first time they came, Roxy hung out with us a lot and got to know my their idiosyncracies. I told her they were coming again and she asked how long they are staying. I said a week, to which she replied, "You will need: 3 blocks of cheese and 5 boxes of Little Debbies." The thing is, she is probably right.

Last year they drove here from TN with my aunt. They were going to pick me up and then the four of us would go on a loop up to Palmyra, Niagra Falls, Kirtland and then back here to drop me off. They pulled up in their mini-van crammed full of so much stuff, there was no room for me. My grandfather's first words to me were, "We brought too much stuff, I don't know why." I'll say! As we started sifting through all of their belongings to determine what they could leave at my house and then pick up on their way out, I discovered a very large fan. My grandmother explained to me, "You know how hot J.B. gets. He has to have that fan blowing on him when he gets out of the shower." In the end, we left the fan in my room so that I would be able to take a suitcase on our trip. We just had to put my suitcase on top of the cooler filled with Little Debbies. (Apparently he takes his fan even on flights. He has a suitcase for his clothes, and one for his fan.)

Currently, I'm in the process of finding a place for them to stay. This is trickier than you would think. Last year, I used Hotwire and got them a great room on the water in Old Town for about 1/5 of its normal price. While they were grateful I got them such a deal, in the end they revealed that they would have rather stayed in a motel. My grandfather wants to be able to drive right up to the door...it is "WAY too much trouble to have to go through a lobby with elevators and stuff." So not only do I need to find them a motel room in a safe area here in Washington, but it also needs to be the same price they would pay in Tennessee. Yeah, this puts them about 90 miles away in Richmond. Unfortunately, another motel they had stayed in before was all booked up...but they were really only sad because it is just a mile from the "Great American Country Buffet" (which although about a half hour from my house, is where I'm sure we'll have many meals during their stay.)

The final step I need to take before they arrive is to make sure all our smoke/carbon monoxide detectors are functioning properly. I would place a bet on the fact that the first thing my grandfather will do when he walks in is ask, "Are all your smoke detectors working, Missy?" And regardless of the fact that I tell him they are, he will roam around the house testing each one. He has done it here everytime, and in everyone else's house since I can remember as a child.

I do believe in being cautious and safe, but my grandparents can be a little over the top. I wish you could see the number of locks and alarms on their doors. And on our trip last year, my aunt and I would always joke about and bet on the number of times my grandfather would hit the lock button for the van on his keychain, causing it to honk loudly each time. Usually as we headed in the door of the motel, we would hear 2-3 honks, followed by an acutal door handle check, followed by one additional lock honk. At one point, we had unpacked and walked to a restaurant across the street. My aunt and I headed back to our room first and sat at the window watching because we knew he would stop at the van to check its lock status again. And he did. And he saw us watching and laughing. oops.

Luckily, my grandparents' paranoia has only rubbed off on me in a mild way. I do have fears that any ride I get on at a fair will break down and I will be thrown out or fall to my death. I've mentioned before that I can't sleep sometimes because I think the furnace is going to explode. But hey! that thing is gas and this house is old! Both my roommates left on business trips and I'm home alone for the weekend. The last time I was here by myself, I was talking to Camelio Estevez late on the phone and she freaked me out about being alone so much that I slept with a huge knife by my bed at her urging. I'm not afraid of being alone. Except sometimes when there are weird noises when I'm going to sleep. Especially the ones coming from the furnace vents.

But really, bad things do happen. I WAS almost kidnapped when I was four AT A MOTEL WITH MY GRANDPARENTS. And a couple of years ago, I was walking home from the bus and a man followed me and I had to run and then drop flat on the ground behind a 2-foot-tall fence in a neighbor's yard.

But I did just go to the gas station to fill up my tank at 10:30 tonight in case the prices go up again tomorrow. There is really no rhyme or reason to my fears. But at least I know where I get them from.

Anyway, I'm excited for their trip out here. It will be good to see them. I wonder if they will bring my motorcycle painting. I doubt it, they've got to leave room for the fan.

My Life in Numbers (BJD Style)

2005-04-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

# of days have worked this week: 2

# of days have worn jeans to work this week: 2

# of days have worn flip flops to work this week: 1

# of times have wondered if boss thinks I'm taking advantage of the casual dress policy: 37

# of phonecalls received from boss today: 7 (I'm not kidding)

# of hours have been at work today: 2

# of "nanny" reality TV shows watched Monday night: 2

# of ridiculous outfits I wore on Sunday: 2

# of times (when asked) told roommate to change b/c her outfit didn't match at all: 1

# of outfits worn by roommate who had been told by me it didn't match at all: 1

# of minutes was late to church because of my ridiculous outfit #1: 20

# of fears conquered this weekend: 1

# of times tried to demonstrate the motion of a roller coaster while seated in a booth, resulting only in a shaking booth and flailing legs: 1

# of ward members assigned to our house for the ward activity Saturday night: 8

# of assigned members who showed up: 1

# of un-assigned members who showed up: 1

# of un-assigned members who showed up and drove everyone stark raving mad: 1

# of e-mails in my boss's inbox that need to be checked right now: 122

# of times have seen commercial for "House, M.D." which guest stars Robert Sean Leonard tonight and have thought I should let Christian F know: 7

# of times I ever want to watch "House, M.D.": 0 (yuck)

# of people in my office today: 1 (me)

# of times have done leg kicks and punches down the office hallway today: 3

# of Britney Spears' songs listened to today: 1 (in honor of her pregnancy: Hit Me Baby One More Time)

# of conversations with boss re: Paris Hilton in the last week: 4

# of minutes have thought about who I could give one of these to: 19

# of emails now in my boss's inbox that need to be checked: 128 (I better go.)

Name This Song

2005-04-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

It's the 17th again...The first person to email me (see my profile page) with the artist and song title wins the prize. Good luck.

"Her arms are wicked, and her legs are long
When she moves my brain screams out this song"

Dance with me. Come on, Buddy

2005-04-16T09:35:00.000-07:00

Shotzy sent this to me. Enjoy.

Girl with a Red Leather Jacket

2005-04-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

You may recognize this:

a.) because it is (supposed to be) me

or

b.) because it is copied from a Virginia Slims magazine ad.

Yes, it's true, my grandmother (the artist) saw a cigarette ad in a magazine, ripped it out and decided it would be a perfect setting for a painting of me. Apparently she thinks I'm a biker babe. So she painted the ad, adding my face and omitting the cigarette in my hand and, voila, my own portrait.

My questions are as follows:

1. Why me and not my sister Jenny (who really does smoke)?
2. That background...Why?
3. Do you think someday this painting is going to be in my possession? And what will I do with it then?

Seriously, I am flattered that she would do a painting of me. I think it is sweet. But no one can say it's not funny.

Here's a blog with pictures, but none of me because I'm still too chicken for that (but working up to it)

2005-04-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

I hesitated a little about writing this post because any allusion to beds always leads some minds to the gutter, and because I’m a little afraid of what Google searches might lead to this post entirely devoted to beds. However, today I saw that someone got to my blog by doing a search for “Stacie’s Nude Website,” so I figure….hey, the creeps are getting here regardless…So here goes:

The History of Carly and Me (or How to Spend as Much Time in the Bed as Possible)

One thing Carly and I have in common is a love for the life of leisure. I found this out long before we ever lived together. One weekend, all of my roommates were out of town, so Carly stayed over. She slept in my roommate Karen’s bed, and we didn’t get out of our beds all weekend, except for occasional trips to the kitchen to grab some cookies to bring back to our beds or to use the restroom.

After we did move in together, we shared a TINY room with such a low ceiling that I had to hoist myself up onto our white, metal-framed bunk beds at a 45 degree angle to avoid hitting my head on the ceiling.

Carly and I were perfect bunk bed mates: she loved the bottom bunk, and I loved the top. However, when we first moved in, we were both too nice to say what we wanted. I assumed she would want the top because it was the best, and she assumed I would want the bottom. Neither of us said a word and we both sacrificed the bunk we wanted, unknowingly causing the other person also to give up the bunk of her choice. Eventually the truth came out, and we switched.

Some highlights of our time in these bunk beds included:

-We stayed in bed so late the first morning we were in our apartment that our other roommate assumed we were gone. She and one of the girls upstairs walked around talking about us and calling us rambunctious and we heard every word.

-At first I thought it was funny that every time Carly would come home (from school or work or anywhere really), she would walk straight from the front door to the bedroom, drop her bag, get in the bed and often wrap her blanket Rehar around her head. But it was only a matter of time before I was doing it, too (sans Rehar). And let me tell you, it was a lot easier to carry on a conversation when we were both right there together, instead of talking from two different rooms.

-For some reason, we felt we had to begin the video we shot for an Italian class project, Le Notizie Secondo Glorie (The News According to the Glorias), by waking up and getting out of our beds and end it by crawling into the beds and going to sleep.

-On the wall beside our beds hung colored, paper eggs we made when we co-wrote our workbook, “Don’t Put All Your Eggs in One Basket: A Girl’s Guide to College Dating.” Carly also had a picture on the wall of Mat (from her “Plat for Mat” days) and I had a picture of Steven Tyler next to me.

-Carly’s pants were ALWAYS on my bed. I don’t know if she threw them there subconsciously whenever she changed, but she always denied it, “I have no idea how they got there.” She still stands by this.

-Every night, our ritual went as follows: Carly would get in her bed while I did a dance to “Don’t Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes” by K.D. Lang---which was really funny, not creepy like it sounds. Then I would get in my bed and hang my arm down while Carly reached over to the bedside table for our bottle of TUMS (we ate them like candy) and put two in my hand.

Needless to say, we spent a lot of time in those bunk beds. So on the day we moved out, when the lady came for the cleaning check and to collect our keys, it was only natural that we were both crying and hugging our beds goodbye. Nothing could console us but some fast food and a trip to Lagoon.

Fast forward 6 months to when I flew back to Utah for Carly’s wedding. The night before her wedding, we were both staying in the guest room at her parents’ house being silly and just having a lot of girl talk---you know the usual night-before-wedding girl stuff. Carly told me that Mike thought it was weird that we were going to sleep in the same bed, which we thought was ridiculous…. I think guys just think about that kind of thing differently…Anyway, the next morning Mike showed up and there we were both sound asleep in the guest bed. Georgia tried unsuccessfully to stop him, and the next thing we knew there he was standing in the doorway looking at us. Quickwitted Carly hopped to her feet (standing on the bed, that is), looked down at me and said, “Well, I’m glad I came in for this quick morning chat.” She made everyone laugh, and the moment that shouldn’t have been awkward but was, disappeared.

We have now lived far apart for many years, but when we do have the chance to see each other, things haven’t changed too much. In December, we spent a lot of time eating truffles on my bed. And when I was in Utah recently, I sat on the bed watching NASCAR and giving a running dialogue to Carly, who was in and out of consciousness. But I still feel a little bad for telling Mike, who was exhausted, that he was going to have to wait a few more minutes to go to bed because I needed to lie on the memory foam a little longer.

My Favorite Things

2005-04-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

You know, I thought by addressing Kacy directly in the first paragraph of my last post, I could force her into commenting. But obviously that didn't work. I mean, after over a month long absence of her comments on my blog, my blego is plummeting. and fast.

Luckily, Cameron made my day this weekend by emailing me the mp3 for "Let Your Love Flow," which I have probably already listened to 20 times in the last 48 hours. That's my style. When I like something, I really like to overdo it until I need a break from it.

In honor of my roommate Shotzy who, every night, asks us what our favorite part of the day was, I will list my favorite parts of the last few days:

Friday: Having practiced basketball 'til after 10 the night before where I hurt myself, came home late and didn't even shower before going to bed for a restless night of sleep because of a throbbing foot, I woke up late, watched 24 and then took a nap. Around noon, I was about to shower when I got a call from Katie Blue inviting me to lunch and did I go? Of course I did. I threw on some mascara and clothes and just apologized when I got there for my appearance and smell.

Saturday: Only losing in our championship game (where not even 1 foul was called) to the team with 2 former college players on it by 20 points, instead of 50 like the first time we played them.

Sunday: A delish HUGE dinner on the grill after a long Fast Sunday, during which we were visited by Miriam who laughed so hard she cried.

Monday: So it is only lunch time (which will probably soon take over as my favorite part of the day) but so far I haven't done any work because I have spent the entire morning trying to help my boss figure out how to get his driver's license back after having surrendured it to a police officer on Saturday.

Racial Love Stories: It Doesn't Matter if You're Black or White (or Hispanic)

2005-04-06T13:08:00.000-07:00

Today as I was walking back from lunch wearing my bottle green skirt (as Roxy likes to call it) with my legs out in all their white glory, I passed an older black gentleman who stopped, looked me up and down, and then said, "Green. MMMMMM." Surprisingly, I wasn't as uncomfortable as you might think, but instead, laughed out loud at his choice of words...or should I say sounds. But, it reminded me of a time when I did feel uncomfortable as a 20-year-old at work in the RB. I was on the phone, probably taking a tennis reservation, when I was passed a note by a creepy professor (Kacy & Carly, I think you know who I'm talking about) that simply said, "Nice Skirt, M." Yuck.

My experience today also reminded me that I am generally loved by black men. I am pretty certain that this has to do with my, shall I say, non-stick-thin appearance. In high school, I had a friend named Chris. We had a "top secret notebook" where we used to write notes and then leave it in each other's lockers. I don't really know what the point of it was except that we were kids, and it was secret and fun. He did have a girlfriend named Teresa and word got around to me that she was going to wait for me after my Art class to beat me up. Does this really sound like me? It even feels foreign to write it. Not that she ever did wait for me or beat me up....but it's just funny to be involved in a conversation like that. I don't know what I had done that made her so mad, both she and Chris seem to have their fair share of "really good friends" of the opposite sex and all I was doing was writing dumb notes in a notebook under the alias "Aeon." Anyway, I bring it up because he (as well as another black man who was a customer of mine when I was a carhop at Sonic in high school) told me that "I had a nice A$$ for a white girl."

I could go on with a lot of stories about Chris, but will move on to tell you about a different man named Chrys who works at the carry-out window in the restaurant on the first floor of the building I work in. Chrys recognizes my voice when I call, has "my usual" memorized and always winks and tells me he gave me some extra corn muffins when I pick up my order. Now you may think that this has more to do with the frequency of my ordering food from there than anything else, and you may be right...but all of that pales in comparison to the fact that what I really want to tell you about Chrys is: once I saw on a printout at the restaurant that his real name is Chrysanthemum.

The final story I would like to share is not about me, but I was a first hand witness to it, and it is much more interesting than any of the above stories about myself. Let me first give you a little bit of background about where I live. The street I live on is a dead end, but attracts a lot of traffic of foreign laborers because they can walk to the end of the street, through a grassy area and under the underpass of the freeway. On the other side of the freeway, there is a corner where these laborers gather and wait for people who have work that needs to be done to drive up honk, say how many workers they need, and then they hop in the van and go with them. It is pretty fascinating, in a scary Elizabeth-Smart-type way.

Anyway, one Saturday Roxy and I were going out for a little run (and by run we meant walk), and I was upstairs getting ready. Roxy decided to sit down on the front porch and wait for me, when a man, who I'm sure was headed for the underpass and had quite a bit of an alcoholic stench, stopped to talk to her. Roxy, being the extremely nice girl that she is, was carrying on a small conversation with him and getting a little antsy for me to hurry it up. In the meantime, I came down the stairs, looked through the glass door and saw Roxy sitting on the front porch with a man named Omar (he even spelled it out for her). I saw them, walked into the kitchen and said to Shotzy, "Who is Roxy talking to out there?" I could only see the back of him and didn't want to interrupt anything, even though Roxy was praying I would. Shotzy didn't know what I was talking about, so we headed through the doorway just in time to see Omar go in for a kiss. Roxy jumped to her feet, threw her hand out and yelled "NO!" in the way you are taught in a self-defense class, and then said "I have to be going in now." She came in to our shocked faces, and was a little annoyed, I'm sure, that we hadn't intervened before it got to that point. I'm glad that a few years later, the horror of it all has worn off enough that she can laugh about it with us, as hard as we laughed at that moment.

Let the Good Times Roll

2005-04-04T09:45:00.000-07:00

Saturday after watching conference and sitting in Chipotle with Shotzy's brother for 2 hours of fascinating conversation regarding the Papal succession, killing a turkey by stirring its brains and why you should only buy a rabbit with the ears still on it in a meat market...and other delightsome topics, Shotzy, Wayne and I were looking for something fun to do. We decided everyone would say something right then and we all had to go and do all three things. I wanted to get some frozen custard, Wayne wanted to go to the Iwo Jima Memorial and Shotzy wanted to do some sort of scavenger hunt. We decided to head to Target---we each drew one of the other's names and had 20 minutes to find a specialized gift for $5 or less for that person and meet back at the door.

Wayne gave me an iTunes giftcard. You have no idea how excited I was, even though I own neither an iPod nor a computer. She got it for me so I could download "Let Your Love Flow" by the Bellamy Brothers, because I had heard it in the car on the way home from the movies Friday night and I got excited. Then Saturday, it came on the radio again on a completely different radio station. I mean, what are the chances?

We traded gifts, got some custard and then headed over to Iwo Jima in the rain. I happened to be wearing a jacket, formerly owned by Carly's father, that said England on it. After unsuccessfully taking a few pictures of ourselves, in my best British accent, I asked a nearby girl if she would take our picture. I don't know if the fact that she didn't understand me and just stared blankly and said, "What?" means I did a good or bad accent. I tried to repeat myself but by that point I was laughing a little and Wayne and Shotzy had already walked away (with the cameras) to hide their laughter.

She took our picture and we headed home to take more pictures and download iTunes. The saddest moment was when we realized that "Let Your Love Flow" was not available on iTunes---unless you wanted the Joan Baez version, which I did not. After the three of us sat around until about 2:30 a.m. (3:30 daylight time) previewing hundreds of songs...we finally made our first and only selection of the night for purchase: "Black or White" by Michael Jackson. After hours of listening and pondering, the only song we bought was in support of a child molester. But really, you may have forgotten just how good that song was. I know I had. I also learned that I have been singing 75% of the lyrics to it incorrectly for years.

AND, believe it or nor, I heard "Let Your Love Flow" AGAIN on the radio yesterday.

Weird Things I Say

2005-03-29T15:12:00.000-08:00

10. "Pavlov's dogs." This phrase was more prevalent in my college years. For some reason, I liked to relate things to a Pavlovian response almost daily. "That is just like Pavlov's dogs."
9. "Never Say That Again." You are probably thinking that this is not that weird of a thing to say, but I like to say it with a dramatic tone, and after something has been said only once. Roxy: "Did you hear that the grocery store stopped carrying Little Debbie Chocolate Cupcakes?" Me: "Never say that again."
8. "Carp." Camelio Estevez is the originator of this word, but it is making it's way around. It started as a consistent IM typo of the word crap but is now intentionally used..."What the carp are you still doing at work?" "Where the carp have you been?" I guess it is becoming widespread though because Carly told me her mom used it when they were in the car the other day.
7. "Blego." I made up this word as a combo of blog ego. "Gosh, his/her blego is really getting out of hand."
6. "You can do it, Shannon Miller." My sisters and I used to conduct Olympic Gymnastics on the lawn and my stepmom was our coach. She would say in a loud German (I don't know why German) accent just before all of our cartwheels, "You can do it, Shannon Miller." Now whenever I need to give words of encouragement, I usually follow it up with a Shannon Miller.
5. "Gag Me With A Pitchfork." If something makes me sick, this is what I say. I don't know why.
4. "How am I doin'?" This is to the cadence and tone of Joey Tribiani's "How You Doin'?" but is altered for situations such as trying on something cute in a dressing room.
4.a. "How's he doin'?" Again like Joey...but for such situations as passing a handsome man on the road, or Matthew McConaughey coming onscreen, etc...
3. "Tight as Dick's hatband." All I know about this saying is my grandfather, my mom and I all say it. It comes from a John Wayne movie and surprisingly fits into a lot more conversation than you would think. "I ate too much Thanksgiving dinner and now my pants are as tight as Dick's hatband."
2. "I'm a poet. I didn't know it, but my feet they surely show it. They're Longfellows." My mom said this dumb poem when I was a little girl. I can't stop myself from carrying on the tradition and say it, without thinking, anytime Longfellow is mentioned or I accidentally rhyme.
1. "That makes me not be able to swallow." I know there are more concise ways to express this sentiment, but this wording is really the only one I consider to capture the proper essence of my emotion. It is generally said while holding the throat and attempting to swallow (It is reserved for situations worse than those where I would use #5.) "That 200 pound tumor with hair and teeth inside is making me not be able to swallow."

Trying to Get out of 10 Years of Curses

2005-03-28T11:15:00.000-08:00

Today I received the most ridiculous chain letter e-mail forward I have ever seen. I won't bore you with the story, because it has to be the dumbest one ever, but my favorite parts of the email were the chain-letter instructions at the end. They were:

"I like you because of who you are to me...a true friend. And if I don't get this back, I'll take the hint.

Tonight at midnight your true love will realize they truly love you.

Something good will happen to you at 1:00-4:00pm tomorrow. It could be anywhere: AOL, yahoo, outside of work, anywhere.

Get ready for the biggest shock of your life.

Also if you break this chain letter you will be cursed with 10 problems for the next !ten years!

If you send it to 15 people in 15 min you are safe!"

Shoot! What was I thinking when I didn't forward it? Now my true love will not realize he loves me at midnight tonight nor will I get the biggest shock of my life tomorrow from 1-4 anywhere: on AOL or yahoo or anywhere else. Not to mention the curses.

What I really wonder is: who wrote this? and how does it keep getting forwarded? I guess I AM posting it on the internet. Perhaps it will get me out of my curses...this seems better than forwarding it. I can only hope.

A Few Unrelated Thoughts

2005-03-24T11:39:00.000-08:00

Because I Loved the British version of The Office, I am a little skeptical that the American version is going to be as funny. But I'm willing to give it a shot. If you haven't seen the BBC version, check it out.

It's now the time of day when my boss usually takes a nap. But today, instead he came rushing into my office and said, "Do you have anything urgent for me?" When I answered that I didn't, he said he was going swimming and took off.

I won't be eating Wendy's chili anytime soon. Check out the video on that too, unless you're squeamish. Speaking of gross videos, I once saw a show about the world's largest tumor. It was 200 or so pounds I think and they found teeth and hair inside. The truth is I have it on tape. For some reason, when they said, "after the commercial break: the world's largest tumor," I felt compelled to pop in a tape and record it. I better look for that tonight, it has been a few years and I think it's time to bring it off the shelf again.

March MADness

2005-03-21T21:09:00.000-08:00

It's 11:54 a.m. and I could really use a substantial meal right now---probably because I had basketball practice til almost 11 last night and now all I want is some heavy pasta. or a steak. or some steaky pasta.

I got checked into the Smackdown by my "coach" last night. I use that term loosely because, well, I don't really know how my teammate's boyfriend ended up as our coach. Last night he stopped play to come over to me in front of the team and say, "What happened on that, Marcy? Did you not play the release?" I was very polite to his condescending tone and told him I would do better next time. After this, he demonstrated to the team what I should have done.

In our game on Saturday, I was going for a rebound when a player from the opposing team practically ripped my arm off. The ref blew the whistle and he called it our ball. The arm ripper argued the call and said I touched the ball last, which is true. I did touch the ball last during the attempted arm-rip-off. The cowardly ref did not stand up to her and stick by his foul call, but looked at me and asked if I had touched the ball last. I looked at him in disbelief and finally said yes. Maybe you think I'm a coward like him for not standing up for myself there, but I'm just so tired of the attitudes and arguing that are going on in church basketball. This is not a serious league, people. We are just trying to have some fun here.

Anyway, I heard the arm-ripper tell the ref that she couldn't believe that I was being dishonest by not coming forth and admitting that I had been the last to touch the ball. Luckily, the ref then got annoyed with her and told her to lay off it. A couple of minutes after this small drama, I made a basket and she looked at me and said "Lucky." So after the game when she was trying to avoid me, I followed her so she had to say "Good game" to me. One of my teammates congratulated me on being such a good sport, but I told her that really my intentions were not good at all. The only reason I went over to the rude arm-ripper was because I could tell she was avoiding me, and I wanted to force her to say it. A fairly harmless revenge I think.