Musings of a 21st century "Lady"

Long time no see??

2011-09-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! It's been almost a whole year since I've posted on this 'ole thing. Yikes. Well, there's much to report! I finally moved out of Dallas to Houston for a new gig. This was a looooong time coming (being that I lived in Dallas for 8 years(!)), but it didn't make the move any easier. Within a month and a half, I had accepted a position and moved down to Htizzle. Sure, it's no cross-country move, but moving isn't easy, even if it's across town. The last time I moved, it was four blocks away from where I had lived previously. I sure missed that when D-Day came.

Anyway, I'm here and mostly settled in except for that pesky task of looking for a place to live. Gross. It's times like these that make me miss Dallas, and it's times like watching Most Eligible Dallas that make me hate it. I miss my friends the most, and then the Libertine, and my apartment. Oh, and getting to be alone. I'm currently shacked up with my parents which is fine, except that I rarely get to spend a moment alone. I feel like I entered some kind of time machine and I'm back in high school and my parents want to hear all about my day and what I want to do is drink a stiff cocktail and not think (or speak) for a while. Is that too much to ask? Probably. That being said, it's probably a good exercise for me and is teaching me patience as well as other skills valuable to being a normal and social human being. They are great people, that's for sure (with the occasional vomitous political assault), but we have our moments. Yes, the entirety of my family (on both sides) are staunchly republican and I am the polar opposite, so you can imagine what kind interaction ensues when we are all together...

Other than that, I like the new job. The people are so nice and I couldn't ask for a better schedule, so all in all I feel confident about my move. But....I'm not sure if I want to stay in Houston forever. Granted, I've only been here now for a little over a month and I shouldn't judge too soon. I felt that way about Dallas, too, so I know it just takes a little time to get to know a place - even if I did grow up here.

I've got a few things to look forward to, however. This coming weekend I'm headed back to Dallas for a wedding (YAY!) at which I will be reading something in front of 200 people (Boo). You would think that after numerous presentations in grad school and consistent tour delivery at the last jobby that I would be perfectly fine with this. And, I'm MUCH better than I was pre-grad school and I know that I actually do well at these kinds of things. I know that I internalize it all and imagine that I look like a giant sweaty/shaky mess when in actuality I look poised and polished. This, however, does not change the fact that my brain freaks out and imagines the worst. I have a friend, who upon finding out that I was reading something at the wedding has taken it upon himself to periodically text taunt me. He's told me that he imagines me standing up there and swearing my brains out when I mess something up. Thank you for the confidence, Ben. Our friendship and your support mean the world to me. Either way, it should be fun to see some of my Dallas friends. Weddings/Showers/Parties with this particular group are not your stereotypical life events. They are no cucumber sandwiches and tea affairs. They are more "let's make drinking/shot games out of shower games" or "let's make abortion jokes." We're a classy bunch! And, I plan on getting my dance on. Hopefully, no knee injuries this time!

So perhaps I will return only to regale you with many a crazy tale. We will see, won't we?

This is what I deal with on a daily basis

2010-12-13T11:13:00.000-08:00

First off, you're welcome. For this post and for returning to the blog-o-sphere (totes lametown name, btw). At my work about a year ago to save some green and to all big-brother-like monitor what we're printing and how much, our IT department decided to remove all printers from all people's offices and replace them with giant economy printer stations in certain areas of the building. Well, as part of this, we've all been asked to "lock print" so we have to remember to go to the printer and retrieve our docs (because we're retarded, in case you didn't know). Someone today didn't "lock print" (motherfucking GASP!!!!!) and I found this gem on the printer. It wasn't quite like finding a co-workers exhaustively itemized FSA reimbursement request complete with subtle deets about her crotch health, but it was delightfully strange. Evidently, someone in the building is shopping for birds. Yes. Birds. In particular this little guy (who I would name Bubbles, incidentally), he was at the top of the list as two (count it, TWO) of these pages were printed out. Before you get all judgy about how boring my life is and how I devoted a solid 10-15 minutes scanning the page, discussing said page with another coworker, and then blogged about it, you can think about all the time you waste at work and at home and then get back to me. It's things like this that keep me sane. Or, maybe, that make me insane. Jury's still out on that.

2010-12-12T22:34:00.001-08:00

I woke up on Saturday morning, threw on some jeans only to notice this unsightly bulge after having been out and about for an
hour or so. After further investigation, the bulge revealed itself to be last night's undies. Hot.

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I found this un-posted "blog" from last month

2010-12-12T22:31:00.001-08:00

I'm pretty sure that...texting is single-handedly ruining dating...

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Sooooo....(awkward pause)....how have you been?

2010-10-21T13:12:00.000-07:00

How is everyone? What's new? I miss you. Actually, I don't. And I'm pretty sure you don't miss me either.

I had decided a few months ago that it was a goal of mine to double my blog followers within a month. Well, I haven't blogged much at all lately, nor have I done anything to increase my number of followers - unless watching a lot of Project Runway and doing physical therapy counts toward that, which it very well may, who am I to judge?

Anyway, there's not much explanation as to why I haven't blogged much lately other than the fact that I've been dating a little bit and nursing my leg nubbin. [Here was where I wrote a bunch of stuff and then panicked that one gentleman caller would discover it...] Anyway, I should probably stop talking just in case we end up married. Oh, who am I kidding? In case I end up preggers with his triplets.

I can say that I'm looking forward to the next few weekends...fiesta this weekend (to which I am taking one of my gentleman), visitor LoLo next weekend (think tacos and dancing, or for me, just shifting my weight since my dr. expressly advised against dancing), wedding shower the following weekend, and then Miss Ramos and Mr. Stanutz's wedding (which promises to be one of the best weddings ever!). I trust in Miss Ramos' party-planning and Mr. Stanutz's fiscal responsibility. I heart them both and it will def be a good time, minus a few awkward moments, I'm sure. Shit happens.

I look forward to many (more frequent) conversations with you in the future.

2010-10-10T21:10:00.001-07:00

So, do you remembs that post I wrote...oh, about a month ago containing pictures of my crippling leg injury? I went to an orthopedic surgeon the Monday after I hurt my knee and his diagnosis was that I dislocated my kneecap (or patella in the orthopedic game). According to the dr I was to see him in two weeks and to ice that shit and do leg lifts to strengthen my knee. Fast forward to two weeks later, I returned to said dr (who was wearing filthy scrubs, btw), and he told me that my knee was still pretty swollen (no shit, dude), but that it would take at least another 4 weeks (?!?!??) for all of the blood in my knee (gross) to be reabsorbed by my body. I immediately made an appt for a second opinion elsewhere. New (and clearly more capable) dr said that my knee should be virtually back to normal a month after a dislocated patella and said that I should be able to bend my leg, oh, further than 30 degrees. Basically at this point I'm scheduled for an MRI on Tuesday, and I get the results on Friday. I'm super psyched that I changed drs though because the other guy was practically retarded, and if this keeps me from having a permanently fucked up knee, who isn't on board with that?? Someday I'll be able to walk not like the hunchback of Notre Dame...and to wear heels again...and to have matching levels of musculature in my two thighs. A girl can dream...

Location:On top of spaghetti

I put the "play" in Playtex

2010-10-10T20:56:00.001-07:00

I've never been one of those people who gets embarrassed when I have to buy condoms, tampons, KY, etc. I have a friend who makes her husband buy her tampons for her at the store. It's so extreme that she can't even be there. Weird as it may be, I can understand a slight discomfort but not complete social paralysis. Anyway, I made an afterwork stop at CVS for some much needed tampons (if you know what I mean). I purchased a box o' tampies, architectural digest mag, and an ice pack specifically designed for the knee. I immedes started feeling like a gaping d-bag when walking up to the checkout counter. I felt like that lady that I not-so-subtly judged at Target awhile back...what did the gentleman checker think I was going home to do that evening?!?

Oh wait, most people don't possess the warped imagination that I do...sigh.

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Songs of the week (I'm obvs really bad at this...)

2010-09-24T12:13:00.001-07:00

"My Vampire" by the Soho Dolls

"C'mon C'mon" by The Von Bondies - this tune always reminds me of the movie 9 Songs = total sexcapade

"Pace is the Trick" by Interpol - the always moody Interpol, love it

"Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town" by Kenny Rogers - I'm serious when I tell you that this song has gotten a sick amount of airplay lately. seriously.

"Hurricane" by Jamie Lidell

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Location:On top of spaghetti

Did you evs wonder...

2010-09-12T16:00:00.001-07:00

...what a dance-mangled knee looks like?

It's the one on the left, you know, the one twice the size of the other.

Me and the ladies headed out on Friday night. We started off at a farewell HH for a coworker of mine and then went out for dinner where we had truffled popcorn and venison frito pie (yummmmtown, btw). We got a wild hair and decided to hit the town. We did a little bar-hopping and if I remember correctly ended up at a club named S4 around 2. We danced and danced and danced until my knee was assaulted by another dude's knee and I collapsed on the dancefloor. I felt a little something pop and have since been unable to walk without looking like Sloth from the Goonies and feeling like my knee will buckle at any second. Suffice to say, I am heading to an orthopedist tomorrow to check out the damage. Wish me luck, suckas.

Xoxo,
Stumpy

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Songs of the week! (Reissue)

2010-08-30T12:32:00.001-07:00

I've decided to reinstitute my Songs of the Week blog, so here goes...

- "Walk in the Park" by Beach House; it's about love and loss with a haunting tune accompanied by a Wurlitzer (blogging and driving isn't conducive to fact checking the
Name of the piano/keyboard)

- "Too Darn Hot" by Ella Fitzgerald; I love discovering new songs on my iPod! This is perfect for the weather of late.

- "Get Me Alone" by Von Haze; slow and methodical dragging, builds tension with no climax (does this sound familiar? Like my blog lately? Boom.) anyway, very much like aural foreplay...my fave!

- "The Mall and the Misery" by Broken Bells; it starts off sounding kind of ballad-y and country, but give it until about a minute in, you won't be disappointed.

- "All My Friends" by LCD Soundsystem; not quite as synth as their other stuff, but an upbeat tune nevertheless, and a good message about growing up and making life decisions.

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2010-08-26T13:12:00.000-07:00

I've been an awful host of late, haven't I? What a deadbeat!!!

While I wish I could say it's because my social life has been thriving, and that I'm breaking up with the Internet to move to some exotic locale with an equally exotic financier/BF (with big hands and two separate eyebrows, if you know what I mean), I'm sorry to say that it's not. Work's been hell, as has life in general, but I still manage to find outlets...see previous post. And before you lecture me on medicating with booze, blow me. Or don't. It's your prerog.

Anyway, I've been subsisting on a healthy diet of The Wire (I finished it, finally!), alcohol, laziness, with a pinch of self-deprecation. Firstly, The Wire is, by far, one of the best, if not the best show I've ever seen. So real. So gritty. So all consuming! But that's enough seriousness for now.

I've been traveling of late...I went to St. James, Missouri (I'm so cosmopolitan), and San Fran. I've now been working on a blog post for Missouri since the beginning of July. I'll finish it someday. Maybe. Both of these trips were for friend's birthdays, and they possess a number of similarities:

Both were equally indulgent, if not excessively so
Both involved too much booze and too much cheese
Residents of both locations we were pretty sure hated us
I returned from both having lost 50% of my brain cells and gained 65 lbs
Both involved tequila
Both involved my taking my low-blood sugar frustration out
Both involved some of my most favorite people
Both involved hijinx

Come to think of it, none of these shared characteristics are any different than my normal life (when not travelling).

So, I'm thinking about just picking up and moving, there is a distinct possibility that I could just up-and-move to LA and stay with some friends until I can get my own place. I am sure that I will however be struck with the nagging guilt of sleeping on some one's couch and stealing all their food while I sit at home and suckle from the teat of despair and low motivation. Ahhhhh, well. So, it's at the very least an option, so we shall see. Wish this lady luck. Or don't. Whatevs.

Oh so this is why I felt like death on Wednesday Morning...

2010-08-26T13:04:00.000-07:00

Keep in mind that this is a shitty little watering hole...and there were only three of us. On a Tuesday night. Over the course of 3 hours. Hurltown.

Love this song...supes hott...

2010-08-17T23:53:00.000-07:00

Ladyboner Down

2010-08-14T14:21:00.000-07:00

A dear friend of mine had an extra ticket to a show on thurs night and invited yours truly to go.

The opener was a bluesy little fella with a voice like...oh who knows, but that mother was hot stuff. I decided after conferring with my friend that I would try and hit on him and slip him my business card after a discussion of how much I loved his "set" which really meant that I was eye raping him for 30 mins and barely heard a sound. Btw, business card?!? Douche move. But we will get there.

We were in line behind one other pair to buy an album and I noticed the hottie musician in question in what appeared to be deep convo with two buddies. So deep in conversation that theyhad their hands on each others shoulders. With their eyes closed. And their heads bowed. What transpired was a scene almost exactly out of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Me (with faux confidence): ohhhh man, kitty. I'm totes gonna talk him up, give him my business card, and get him to go out with me.

Kitty (trying to coerce me into actually doing this): you SO should!

Me (starting to panic and sweat because I don't remember what it's like to hit on someone): oh god, I'm freaking out! What do I do? What do I say?! I'm sweating and shaking, Kitty. No one likes that!

Kitty: Here's some money to act like you're buying an album. I'll even talk for you and tell him you're shy but that you loved his set and want to buy an album. Then you can strike up conversation.

Me: Ummm, that makes me look like a retard and a mute.

Kitty: come on, let's get in line.

Me and Kitty simultaneously (as we are waiting in line and notice the object of my affection and two bros in a prayer circle): ARE THEY PRAYING?!?!?!?

Please note that the couple in front of us heard this and were wholeheartedly appalled and disgusted that me and Kitty scurried off in fear of buying a Michael W. Smith album.

After we aborted our mission, a quick google search of the musician and the word "Christian" turned up quotes like this:

"To be a part of a church body is to be used by God for others sake and to be blessed, challenged, and encouraged by others as well."

And this:

"My wife and I believe being involved in a local body of Believers to be an act of obedience to New Testament Scripture, and very necessary to ongoing growth in Christ."

Key words here: WIFE, believers, blessed, chruch, scripture, and last but definitely not least God (with a capital G of course). These words are a surefire way to send my ladyboner retreating into the depths of my body.

Suffice to say me and Kitty did our best to avoid the scathing stares and flaming witch-hunt torches all night to no avail. I'm writing this from the grave. Boom.

Kidders!

Kind of.

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PO Box - ew

2010-08-14T13:53:00.001-07:00

I got this in the mail today...

Did you order some new skivvies? You ask.

Nope, an old boyfriend sent me this. Evidently it was stashed away somewhere. He sent it to me with no note, no nothing. Don't ask me how he knew it was mine. Creepytown.

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2010-08-12T16:34:00.001-07:00

Called someone a rapist today at work. Obvs it was intended to be a joke contrary to how it was received. Get me out of this place...

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Location:Inappropestown, USA

Of course it is.

2010-08-12T12:41:00.001-07:00

I'd rather have my box munched by a great white shark than be here right now.

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Location:Toofuckinghotville, USA

Quote of the week (last week, that is)

2010-08-04T20:25:00.001-07:00

"It's not Avatar, it's just fucking"

- both me and my friend Miss Torres during a particularly wine/vodka/beer-infused home-cooked meal while discussing the finer points of our "love" lives

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"You like penis a lot don't you?"

2010-07-29T10:17:00.000-07:00

That title quote is from a coworker that sits outside of my office. She's new and I've not taken to her enthusiasm and eagerness at all. She was talking to a particularly shy guy who works here and I was shocked and appalled...and impressed and I thought...I could really get behind this lady! Until I realized that the said "peanuts" and not penis. Boo.

Should I be ashamed that this was tempting?

2010-07-29T09:54:00.001-07:00

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Location:Inside of your mom

Huh?

2010-07-24T07:41:00.001-07:00

Last night i went over to a friend's crib for some wieners, burgers, and booze. We played some Rock Band and it was nothing short of amazetown. Much to the gentlemen's dismay, Abby and I insisted on downloading the Lady Gaga pack. Abby brought out the chloraseptic to loosen up that throat since I was on vocals (of course). We probs used half of the bottle and I was several vodka cocktails in when I got home and texted my friend this:

"i just got home, lDy gGhs Iz obvi a nogo

Ummmm, what?

I need to stop shotgunning chloraseptic. That's what.

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Location:On top of your mom

Wha???

2010-07-24T07:28:00.001-07:00

On my way to Htizzle, I was behind a truck with what I presumed had a dog in the bed. This caused me to have a panic attack and imagine the dog flying out and hitting my windshield. Upon further inspection, I realized what we have here is a goat. Of course. How silly of me to assume that it was an animal of the canine variety!

He's wagging his tail! He loves me. Basically.

If I adopted him, I'd name him Frank.

Only in Texas....

Location:Interstate 45,Southwest,United States

I received a blog award!!!

2010-07-08T13:14:00.000-07:00

Greetings, reader(s)!

I rec'd a comment a while back from a reader who bestowed upon me a blog award. Hurrah! Thanks, Mei!!!

Upon receipt however, I realized that this is more like a chain letter and I may die if I don't repost this shizz. So...in an effort to not have bad luck for 30 years, or not die, or not have my family and/or friends die...here we have it:

These are the guidelines to accept this award.

1) make a post about the award, mentioning the person who gave it to you

2) put the award on your blog

3) Give award to 10 sweet bloggers

I'm not quite sure what to make of this. My blog is certainly not "sweet" in the teddybear sense...but maybe the award means "sweet" in like an "awesome" kind of way...in which case...that award is right on the fucking money. My chosen recipients of said "Sweet Blog Award" are as follows (in no particular order, of course):

Ms. L at My Sweet Musings
Ms. A at Culture Cube
Sassy at The Sassy Curmudgeon
Roxanne and Lorraine at Late to the Party
Shinxy at Vacuous Ramblings
Nigel Paresis at Origami Hour with Henry Silva
Molly at Lobed
Dan at [redacted]
Kristy at She Just Walks Around with It
mattitiyahu at To Be Read, and Reread, Upon my Untimely Demise

The award is basically how I imagine crack to be...this "Sweet Blog" award is nothing more than a gateway award to some real hard-core stuff. Soon I'll be searching the streets for award after award trying to get a blog high anyway I can. Blog smack, Blog crack, and Blog meth. I'm into it already.

Jungle Feves

2010-07-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

When in 7th grade, I "went with" a slim, handsome young gentleman named Joe (but I called him Joseph then - I'm such a trendsetter). Come to think of it, I remember us actually "going together" twice, once in 6th grade and this other time in 7th. I remember trying to explain "going together" to my parents. This is basically how the convo went:

7th grade me: Hey mom and dad, I'm going with Joe C****r

Mom: Wait, huh?

Dad: Where are you going with him?

Me: What are you talking about, I'm going with him, duh!

Mom: Pat, do you understand what she's saying?

Dad: Not a clue

Me: GAH!!!! I hate you guys!!!! I wish you would die!

And, scene.

Anyway, I digress...so Mr. Joseph and I went out and we wrote notes to each other because what else do hormone-crazed pre-adolescents do? I have this one note burned into my memory. Joe seems to not think that he evs wrote it, so to jog everyone's memory and to make Joe remember the hold he had on my heart those days, feast your eyes on this...

This is an EXACT replica of the drawing/note that Mr. Joseph created for me. Indeed he drew two people leaning in and puckering for a kiss, and then the kicker...he included the chorus of Stevie Wonder's hit "Jungle Fever." In case you don't catch the reference, this song was created exclusively for Spike Lee's movie of the same name wherein one Mr. Wesley Snipes falls for this white lady Ms. Anabella Sciorra (which is way too close to psoriasis if you ask me). Mr. Snipes happens to be a strapping young African American gentleman and Ms. Sciorra a very white young lady. See here:

This was very much Joe and my love story. A love story that continues to this day...Art imitates life indeed.

I also received "Nachos" as a blog suggestion

2010-06-28T15:38:00.000-07:00

Mr. Evan clearly doesn't frequent this watering-hole very often (in order to see the trashcan nacho and toilet baby post). He knows me well enough to know that nachos and tacos = awesome, and that in my eyes, certain food is a definite blog topic in my book, but...

We're clearly growing apart.

*Sigh*

Worst First Date - EVER

2010-06-28T13:12:00.000-07:00

I recently solicited my friends for blog topics and came up with mostly gold. I also received some suggestions from people who clearly don't know me (or the tone of my blog). Some of the lesser suggestions:

art
public transportation
politics
vampires

And, my favorite: "Summer boners" - what??

Certainly, there are ways to make the above topics worth reading about for the blogosphere, but really...I have to try to make most of that funny. I'm looking for as little effort as possible. This blog is far from serious (save a few lapses in judgment when I decided to write about "real-world" things). Like the earlier entries when I blogged on myspace and I was desperately scrambling to find a voice of some sort. I was trying WAY too hard and I decided to embrace snark and my weirdness and just do it up right.

I digress, one of the many good suggestions I received was to write about my idea of the worst first date. This stumped me up until this past weekend when we saw this train wreck first-hand . I just couldn't figure out what it could be. There's plenty that I imagine could be potentially awful, but depending upon who I was with, it could really be OK (or even fun) so long as they were weird too and they liked making light of uncomfortable situations. My imagined worst first date would be....Drum roll, please...........

Here's another little taste...

OK, let's do this. Firstly, I'm not referring to the wedding part although that might make the first date a little awkward, for sure. I'm talking about the horse-drawn Cinderella carriage. There are so many things wrong with this. I HATE this kind of attention, I despise it, and doing this with someone I didn't know, let alone someone who takes this kind of thing seriously, would be probably the worst thing that could ever happen to me. One, we're riding around behind horse(s) that are likely mistreated (just call me Betty White), and we're also riding behind little hammocks that hold their poop. Did anyone ever see the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer feeds the carriage horse chili? My idea of being romanced does not involve horse feces (or feces of any kind...or does it?). Second, would I be expected to converse with the driver guy? What if he started asking questies about me and mystery-date-man?? Is mystery-date-man going to pop the question? Is this our anniversary? Did we set this up so I could announce that I am preggers? I would likely start laughing uncomfortably and say something about how we were celebrating the anniversary of mystery-date-man's tranny operation. Third, the idea of riding around in Dallas (or any city) in one of these contraptions and having people stare (some in jealousy and some in sheer horror) at us is petrifying. Lastly, the most uncomfortable factor in all of this would be mystery-date-man's expectation that I take it seriously and not make a giant joke out of it. This would be a kind of discomfort that I can only imagine.

I once was given (by my high school boyfriend) a stuffed dog that was holding a heart that said "I WUV U." Yeah. Vomitville. The carriage ride would cause a similar sensation, but one amped up on amphetamines and the possibility of puke. Anyone up for a carriage ride?

Still Life of a Grocery Trip

2010-06-23T19:22:00.000-07:00

I went to SuperTargs the other night to grab some much needed foodstuffs. The above picture documents exactly what I purchased (like you give a shit):

Oranges

Strawberries

Blueberries

Rice Chex

Light soy milk (b/c I think real milk is disgusting)

Vegan cheese (b/c my cholesterol is sky high - don't get me wrong, that didn't stop me from buying 8 lbs. of goat cheese last week)

Whole grain pasta
Lotion (to put in the basket, of course)

I was in the checkout line ogling other patrons and behind me was a lady with ground beef and a 4 pack of Sutter Home white zin. My mind wandered into the possibilities of her evening. Was she wining and dining her car-salesman boyfriend with Hamburger Helper and (what is basically) juice? Was it for an evening with her gal-pals and they have planned on a classy dinner and then a SATC marathon? Or worse...Everybody Loves Raymond or something. I didn't even look at her - what fun would that be?? Why not judge her by her purchases?!?!?

When mentally profiling this lady, I assumed the following things even though she was right in front of me (I like lists today):

She wears nude panty hose

She buys her sensible pumps at Brucette's

She gets her office separates (consisting of navy, black and khaki skirt suits) at Kohls

A night out on the town for her is a trip to Applebee's and the latest romcom
She rarely drinks (or when she's really feeling naughty, she hooks it up with a 4 pack of White Zin)

She was a toilet baby (see previous post)

I should appreciate her letting it all hang out so-to-speak. What I really wanted to buy was this:

and

Looks like the perfect night to me!

Sensual Seduction

2010-06-22T10:14:00.000-07:00

Peeps! I added a picture to the header of my blog. Te gustas?

No, it's not some illegitimate love child that I accidentally gave birth to while on the toilet. It's me! As a baby. On an animal skin rug!! So sexy! I wish I could say that my parents were trying to make some creepers joke about a baby seductress trying to lure men with her feminine wiles. No, they probably just thought it was cute. And, am I wearing a velour tracksuit?!?!! SO ahead of the fashion curve! Alas, somehow my brain went haywire and I have this incredible gift (as does my brother) for seeing the creep- or perv-factor in just about anything.

I went through a bunch of family pics when I was in Htown this last weekend with the hopes that I could come up with some blog-worthy topics. We sat down all-Norman-Rockwell-like and flipped through albums and I scanned some which will soon be featured on the blog...but I won't give it all away too soon. Why buy the butter when you can get the milk for free or whatever the shitters the phrase is...

BTW, who gets preggers and then goes into labor and doesn't know it. Don't get me wrong, I've never been preggers (or have I?), and I've never given birth (maybe) - but I just don't see how it's physically possible to not know. I know some people don't get morning sickness and some people have a virtually painless pregnancy, but when you gain 30 lbs and it's mostly in your midsection and you have a little succubus alien growing inside of you - how...HOW do you just write it off as indigestion from the trashcan nachos* you ate for lunch (BTW, they're awesome)???

*For those of you that don't know the glory and wonder that are trashcan nachos - behold...

This is clearly in College Station, TX. You can tell by the hyper-conservative group of non-drinking freak shows. Oh, and the A&M tee in the back. Ummmm, water? Really? What's wrong with you? Why aren't you binge drinking?!?!? Nice hemp necklace, blue shirt. Oh, and you see the guy behind the timestamp? See that leather strap necklace he's got going on? I bet you one million dollars that there's a shark tooth hanging from it. He's so hip. Then again, I can't judge him b/c he and the guy next to him are the only ones concentrating on the nachos, which are indeed way more important than documenting your douchebaggery for posterity. So, I do give them points for that. Fuck it, they're awesome. The only think that would make them more awesome would be if one of them had their face in the tray...like I would if I could go back in time to 2003.

Awesometown, USA

2010-06-21T14:25:00.001-07:00

We made a little detour yesterday and stopped in on the outlet mall. This picture perfectly encapsulates the selection of consumer goods there.

My dad totes understands my obsession with jorts - I got a thumbs up!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Conroe outlet mall shitbox

Sexy Time!!

2010-06-20T15:15:00.000-07:00

I'm in the car with my fam and my dad is rocking out discotech-style like it's 1988. I am unfortunately being forced to listen to Sade (you know, the European-appearing sultry sex kitten of "Smooth Operator" fame). I totally feel like making gentle love to this water bottle i have here or maybe even the car seat. I totes feel sexy. I bet this is making my parents uncomf. Whatevs. You can't control the magic spell that Sade puts on your genitals.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Wire

2010-06-20T14:39:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been watching HBO's The Wire. I'm only on season 2 and per a coworker's suggestion I'm watching them in installments rather than straight through. So it's been about 2-3 months since I watched season 1. As all two of my readers know, when I get into a series, I really get into it (see my post about The L Word - I'd link to it but I'm blogging from my phone and I don't even know if that's poss). Case and point, driving to Htown (that's Houston for all the haters), I see probs 30 trucks and my mind launches into these conspiracy theories about what they must be smuggling.

Russian prosties inside? Of course!

Giant crackpipes? Fuck yeah, what else would they be?

This is a long meandering way of saying that I'm basically a crazed sociopath who starts to believe that the shows are real. Crazytown. Seriously.

I leave you with Senor Sam Houston. What? Huh? Me too.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Somewhere in Texas

Over-the-shoulder Boulder Holders

2010-06-17T17:01:00.000-07:00

I went online shopping for new bras tonight and woefully discovered that bras for the bustier ladies are still ugly as fuck. See for yourself:

Seriously. How do expect me to ever get laid, Playtex?

And, if I'm feeling extra saucy, perhaps I can don one of these sexy apparatuses:

As a busty lady, I'm already a total skank (according to those with smaller cans). I can wear a turtle neck and look like a total hooker. And baggy tees with jeans, color me a whore. According to manufacturers (and designers) of delicates (I LOVE that word for bras and "panties"), I should be chaste in mind and body, and cover my shit up. I'm a lady after all.

Me + Blog 4 eva

2010-06-17T16:50:00.000-07:00

I decided to give my blog a little makeover this evening. I'll likely tire of it soon and break up with it, but not without going through a lot of unnecessary arguing/personal hell, and then blaming it on the blog, because it's never my fault. Things will start to go south, but being that I like to try to force things to work, even when I know they're not, we'll start to bicker. And then Blog and I will stop banging - which is always a bad sign. I'll start to see things about Blog that annoy me, things that are small and unimportant, but qualities that I will deem absolutely imperative that Blog not have. Blog will start to resent me for (not so) playfully passive-aggressively nagging it, and the resentment is all part of my plan because who likes to break up with anything?? Finally, after a year and a half of pretending that it's working, we'll sit down, both numb and empty and just for show discuss that it's all wrong and that it needs to end.

Anyway, the candles are sexy, are they not? I like them because they're cliche and awful. I hope everyone can see the irony with which I chose the background. And, if not, blow me. Heyooooohhhhh.

Sex and the Shitty, Part Doo (Yep, I did it)

2010-06-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

Last night I went with some lady friends to see the new Sex and the City movie. As someone with a rather shameful former (late 90s) addiction to the show, I thought that there must be just a few redeeming parts in the movie. I was incorrect. SPOILER ALERT: Afterwards, I affectionately described it as "a steaming pile of shit."

I had read reviews that touted it as a vapid excuse for a road trip movie combined with a blatant consumerist extravaganza. If women are stereotyped as shopping, empty retards then this movie isn't helping. At all. I feel like they did some post-production editing in adding in the occasional "men are threatened of strong women" routine. I'm sure in its original form all they were doing was making fun of the Middle East, poorly executed puns, and strutting around complaining about their (at-least) six-figure lives containing nannies, hotties, and 20K/night hotel rooms. Life is rough, isn't it?

There is one part where Carrie decides that she will take 2 days to spend in her old apartment to "write" (which in SATC-speak means to brood, lunch, and think/talk about JJP). She loves it, and she and JJP reunite and bang it out. JJP then suggests that they do that regularly to which Carrie responds crestfallen and horrified. Ummmm, call me crazy, but didn't you just take two days off? And, you loved it. How are you empowering yourself by being a hypocritical asshole? Ahhhhh, of course, as we should always assume, men will inevitably fail us, but we always have our soul mate gals to travel and gab with. And really, men are nothing but accessories anyway. Only there to satisfy our every sexual and financial whim, of course! Losers.

The Birds and the Bee-jays

2010-06-03T09:04:00.001-07:00

I was pleasantly reminded that I haven't been laid in over a year this sunny morning when I encountered two doves romancing each other in a tree. One was strutting his stuff fanning his tail feathers in an attempt to impress his lady friend and said lady friend was playing coy.

Mike the Man-Dove (yes, I gave them names): Good day, m'lady. I hope this morning finds you well. Check out my tail feathers and what I can do with them.

Stephanie the Lady-Dove: Oh my, Mike what a colorful and full plume you have. And, you're awfully nimble, but I mustn't. After all, I'm a lady, and we need to get to know each other before I hop into the nest with you.

Me: Move over, Stephanie, and I'll bang Mike the Dove. And you know what? I'll blow him too.

How do you blow doves, you ask? If you have to ask, then you shouldn't be trying it. I'll spread the dove-blowing gospel in due time. Word.

Always a Lady

2010-06-03T08:34:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday of this week, I wore a sassy little number to work that looked like a cross between this:

Very 50s housewife

And this:

Patriotic Little House on the Prairie complete with giant tampon props

I always get a lot of compliments on this particular dress. It has a full skirt, but don't get me wrong, it's no tutu! Anyway, this one fateful day I wore it, I felt the need to curtsy when someone complimented my frock. every. fucking. time. This was not a premeditated gesture. I didn't roll out of bed and decide that this was how I would receive compliments that day. Basically, due to my paralyzing inability to accept and acknowledge compliments, I thought I needed to do something silly to take the attention off of the nice thing that something said and refocus it on the fact that I'm retarded. I'm no Julie Andrews. I'm like the love child of Corky and Amy Poehler with Tourettes in the first installment of Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigalow.

For those of you still reading...BONUS!:

Ohhhh, Internet. I love you.

I have trouble concen....what? Look at that shiny thing!

2010-05-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

Compliments of Ms. L - I procured a few Addies (my street name for Adderall) when she was last visiting our dear town. I took a few a week for 2 weeks. Believe me when I tell you that I have never been more productive in my entire life than those two weeks. I was basically fiending for more work. "OK, boss, I'm done with my project. Anything new for me? Anything? Are you sure? Because I could really use some more work. Really. I love working. And working hard. If you could give me something to do. What? There's nothing to give me.? OK, I'll reorganize my office and alphabetize everything again. Why? Well, why not is the real question. I'll be in my office working. Extra hard. Oh, and those phone calls I've been avoiding for weeks. Taken care of, and all of the work for the next year or two. Done. Can I do anything else for you? K, I'll be in my office. Assistant: out."

Fast forward to this week. I can't concentrate on anything. I'm easily distracted by loud noises and shiny things. Fuck it, not even shiny things, dull things. Or, just things, really. I find myself daydreaming about anything and everything, except for work. Personal calls: done. Personal emailing: done. Personal anything: done. Work activities and tasks: Nowhere close to done, as a matter of fact, due to my blogging this very minute, the very delicate balance of the universe hangs in expectation of my next move, by way of important (read: stupid) details regarding a luncheon I have been charged with handling. For instance: Chicken salad or Demitasse of Soup? I know, I know. The world stops when one simply must make such critical decisions.

Has anyone every seen The Weather Man (also interestingly called in Argentina El Weather Man - is your mind blown yet?)? If not, check it. It's a generally depressing movie, but I'm into that, so I obvi love it. There's a scene in it that perfectly encapsulates my exceedingly short attention span. Behold:

Did you see how Nic gave each subject like half a second of his attention? Well, I'm giving my work half of half a second. It's like I have the MicroMachines guy in my brain. Phone rings --> I don't answer (I never answer) --> check voicemail --> start dialing number to call someone back --> half type it in and get a personal email --> read part of personal email --> start shopping for more testicle vases --> distracted by re-viginization banner on webpage --> click on banner --> am called into meeting --> listen for 3 seconds --> start talking about my 2nd grade Spanish class wherein we were taught lyrics to La Bamba(unprovoked memory and revelation) --> start fantisizing about potatoes in their various cooked incarnations --> think about some movie that I saw once where someone made creepy potato dolls --> dolls are creepy --> doll people are creepy --> remember guy I dated VERY briefly who had a thing for the wilderness (in a Sierra Club poster kind-of-way) and dragon dolls --> he also had a thing for jean shorts --> Jean shorts? awesome. --> I should bring jams and slap bracelets back --> remembs when they took slap bracelets off the market --> well, kids are cutters now so did that just make cutting possible? --> And, more!

Two Ladies and a Friday Night Text Convo

2010-05-24T09:39:00.000-07:00

Ms. L: From this point forward, i must always be referred to as: Noblewoman, lady lora, the king of pop.

Ms. E: So regal! I wouldn't expect anything less!

Ms. L: The 'gorilla reunite with human' video made me cry.

Ms. E: Oh god me too - waterworks!!!

Ms. L: I want a gorrilla.

Ms. E: I want a meerkat

Ms. L: That would be a great cartoon. 'The meerkat and the gorilla'

Ms. E: Ohhh yes, I would name her petunia or StephanieOr both.

Ms. L: A proper lady needs a middle mame.

Ms. E: You're so right, she is henceforth known as Lady Petunia Stephanie Murphy

Ms. L: Perfect. My gorilla will go by Ms. Mitzi.

Ms. E: Love it!!4 ladies out on the town, we might as well be sex and the city

Ms. L: The adventures of Lady Petunia Stephanie and Ms. Mitzi. We could be 'the real sex in the city'

Ms. E: And noblewoman, lady lora, king of pop and lady e, queen of absurdity

Ms. L: Perfect. Sounds like a number one hit.

Ms. E: Agreed, a blockbuster even!

Schmonline Schmesticle Shopping

2010-05-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

I was surfin' the web this afternoon (because really, what are Friday afternoons at work for?), and I encountered this:

Hmmm, I thought. What a curious ceramic vessel! Any red-blooded lady knows what this looks like...or do they? Or is this just an indication that my public school elementary education went way wrong? And, my private school education, even more wrong?

My grandfather's balding veiny head? Nope, guess again.

A Vase? Close.

Last chance...

That's right, I saw balls. Well, not plural balls, but a lone ball. I mean, really? I imagine a salesperson at a store trying to push this, because you know that shit will be on the clearance rack faster than I can consume a dozen hot dogs.

Shopkeep: May I help you with anything ma'am?

Customer: No thanks, I'm just looking.

Shopkeep: I see you're admiring our designer testicle vase! It's a best-seller here at the shop.

Customer (Now all hot and bothered, but he/she doesn't know why): Oh my, it's glorious! And...it's on sale! Imagine that...what a find! I'll take one, please.

Shopkeep: We've had many people buy a single, and it just doesn't look right, so they come back and buy a second. People like symmetry, what can I say?

Customer: Hmmmm, I can see what you're saying...it simply wouldn't look right in my foyer all alone. I'll get two then...SOLD!

Shopkeep: Wonderful! You'll love them! I bet you're happy you got your hot little hands on these testicle vases...would you like them wrapped up?

Customer: Yes, they seem quite delicate, and I don't want them shattering on the ride home. Many thanks for all of your assistance in acquiring these testicle vases. My foyer will finally be complete!

And, scene.

Personal Space Rapist

2010-05-19T13:32:00.001-07:00

I went on a date a few weeks ago with a guy I'll call Tom.* Tom and I met at one of my favorite watering holes because quite frankly, I can't do the casual dating thing without having a few drinks (read: without getting obliterated). We were talking and learning more about one another, like normal daters do. Well, I should clarify, I was trying to medicate my anxiety with two fists of booze at a time. Anyway, things were going OK, but I knew immediately that I was not into this guy. A word to the wise gentlemen...if you want to get into my pants, I advise that you do not do the following:

Talk about how much money you make, or really, even allude to it. I don't care about that, and if you know my dating history at all, I prefer the unmotivated and unemployed.
Talk effusively about the girl that you went out with recently that was tall, blonde, tan and "model hot" when I am clearly none of the above...why did we agree to go out again?
Dress like you shop at LL Bean
Stare at me with judgment as I try to surpass my personal record of number of drinks in an hour
And, more importantly, give me an unsolicited hug and bury your head in my neck while doing so, followed by a SUPER creepy "MMMMMmmmmmmm, you smell good."

Since this awful outing, I have begun to refer to this guy as "Personal Space Rapist" which is a perfect description of the discomfort I felt when he was trying to shove his tongue down my throat at the end of the night. This was how much I wasn't into him, folks! For those of you that don't know, I used to have a friend with lots of other friends that I took it upon myself to orally defile. Oh well, I wasn't banging all these peeps and crossing my fingers hoping to win the STD lottery. Needless to say, I never went out with this guy again. Thank christ he was a friend of a friend, I can't be seeing this guy around, but then again, I don't hang out at Ghostbar, so there's no real threat, is there?

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty

I only wish I had gone out with this guy:

Quote of the week (from last week)

2010-05-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

"You're lucky you're on your period, because I so would have banged you."

Ruminations on my former creepy english teacher

2010-05-19T13:03:00.000-07:00

For one reason or another while driving to work I started thinking about this project that we did in high school English class. Our teacher (a balding, greying, shapely man with St. Francis of Assisi hair, in his early 50s) required that we write in a journal once a week and turn it in for grading. Now, while I was an angsty but boy-crazy 16 year old, there were no poems, no short stories, but I took it upon myself to write about my various crushes and PG dalliances with the hopes that my teach would chime in and offer me various nuggets of advice all for free (without having to hit up a therapist). Brilliant!

In retrospect, I imagine my former teacher locked away in his dusty office (read card table and folding chair), maybe a Shakespeare poster somewhere and tucked away was likely an armory of filthy scatological porn. In addition to this idyllic setting, I also imagine him furiously reading about some fellow sophomore grazing my boob in the hall and him furiously trying to rip his ween off (in the masturbatory sense, not the masochistic one - but who am I to judge?). I now know as a full-grown adult with an awful imagination and a rather cynical opinion of people that what I was doing was likely fueling his masturbatory impulses. Like the time I wrote in my school journal about making out with two guys in one night (both friends, both there, at the same time - early training for my gang-bang years? maybe.), and I knowingly wondered (not so subtly) what does this mean? Do they both like me? Are they in love with me? Will they have a duel to fight for my honor?Boy, oh boy, was I an eager beaver (literally and figuratively)! I clearly had no grasp on the older, creepy predatory nature of his relationship with students like myself. How was I OK with submitting my not-so-personal diary to a guy that leered at girls crossing and uncrossing their legs in class, and did a little (read: a lot) of boob-staring (but really, who doesn't boob-stare??)?

In attempting to find a look-a-like for my old teacher, I found this when searching for "creepy professor."

Ummm, gross. But strangely captivating. And by captivating, I mean delicious.

Dance Party 2010

2010-05-07T07:25:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite "ladies of the night" is gracing us Dallasites with her presence this evening. I am so excited about her arrival!

We have big plans of drinking heavily and then have a few dance-offs. No bigs, right? Wrong. It will be incredible and magical. I have a Going Away HH for a coworker tonight, so I will have to do some mad prep in a mere hour or two for Miss Lolo's visit.

My to do list:

First and foremost, stretch. The last thing I want is to pull something when I'm doing the noodle dance as my finale. I've already been to yoga twice this week so I'm on my way to limber dance shape.

Pick up tacos (priority)
Pick up booze
Sweep up dog hair in apartment
Place finishing touches on costume for dance-off #1 (see costumes below)
Finishing touches on costume #2
Finishing touches on finale costume
Find dude for other pair of leggings (perhaps KP of JC will be interested in sporting some sequin tight pants??)

COSTUME #1

This seems like the perfect costume for my opening number, right? I plan on dancing to the Cotton-eyed Joe. Fringe is always a good bet. I'll have to get my jazz shoes (circa 1984) out of the closet though.

COSTUME #2:

I'm trying to go sexy sassy for this one. I like that I will be topless. It allows for much more organic movement. I'll really be able to let my true colors fly.

FINALE COSTUME!:

Wiener!

And, my parting gift to you is this...

Hilar.

Lyrical Genius

2010-04-26T21:19:00.000-07:00

I'm completely convinced that some of the words to the new(ish) Train douche song are: "Like a bird in your vagina"

That is all.

Forced Vaginal Entry and Beans (perhaps a title for my memoir?)

2010-04-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

My dear readers, it was a fairly uneventful week. It was the usual occasional gym attendance and Happy Hour-ing. My week was unpleasantly punctuated by a trip to the new Winspear to see the musical Spring Awakening. A friend of mine got a hold of some tix and invited me to go. "What the hell?," I thought. What else would I have done? Other than drink at home and make up dances and songs.

We arrived a few minutes early, and I had just shoved an entire apple down my gullet with the hopes that it would hold me over until the end of the show. No dice. This friend of mine is someone I used to date. For 2 years. So he was well-versed in the low blood sugar thing, and remarkably pleasant and graceful when my responses to everything he said were accompanied by scathing "Fuck you" glances. Anyway, the play starts. Blah blah blah. Fast forward to right before the intermission when the main dude beats the main girl up, and then a few mins after that, rapes her. Yep, you read that right. Keep in mind that I am at a show with a guy I used to bang, and we're both watching two partially clothed characters duke it out (fisticuffs and vaginally) on stage. There was a single boob, and a bare dude ass. I have never thought myself to be conservative or easily offended, but holy tacos, this shit was too much. We got up and left at intermission.

Blood sugar still plummeting, I demanded that we go somewhere to get me something to eat. And, lo and behold, like a beacon appeared Taco Bell. Ahhh, beans. There's nothing to cleanse the palette (both emotionally and gastro-intestinally) like lardy beans.

So, to Mr. S, my sincerest thanks for the on-stage forced vaginal entry and the beans. Just the usual Wednesday.

Yahoo! breaks THE news of the century! Hot off the presses!

2010-03-29T17:43:00.001-07:00

Is this a surprise to anyone (except for my grandparents who don't believe in gay)?

2 Things...

2010-03-29T17:20:00.001-07:00

1. Every time I try to watch Julie & Julia, I fall asleep. It's like a 'lude for me. I tried for my 4th time last night and I just cannot get through it. The next time I'm hard-up for sleep, I guess I know where to turn.

2. Why is it that various "fast food" employees really like me? I once went to Jack in the Box around 2 am for some late night tacos (go ahead, judge me), and the guy at the window just could not get enough. The conversation that was entirely awkward and verbal-rape-ish for me was clearly boner-central for him ended in "Awwww, girrrrrrrl, you ought to come back here soon. For reals." Gross.

Today, after not eating lunch and while I was feeling my blood sugar plummet (i.e. the likelihood of my murdering a fellow driver increased by the second, so much that I saw the oldest lady in history, and I wanted to ram her car in). Oh wait, I did this already this weekend. Hey-oooooh. Anyway, I stopped at Quizno's (go ahead, judge me again), and the guy making my sammy (no, not an innuendo) gave me this disgusting look up and down and told me to "have a great evening" in what he believed to be his sexiest voice ever, and what I felt deserved, at the very least, a dry heave. Go ahead drink it in, buddy. I guess I shouldn't have worn my beaver costume.

My Day: Reviewed and Ranked on a Standard Scale of 1-10*

2010-03-26T08:42:00.001-07:00

* This is totes pillaged from Ms. A's fabulous (P.S. I fucking hate that word) blog Culture Cube - learn it, love it.

4 a.m. Wake up at to realize that jet lag is getting better, but also to realize that I'm sweating profusely. 3, and I think I'm being generous here

4:15 a.m. Force myself to go back to sleep after trying to mop all of the sweat off of my body. 2.

6 a.m. Wake up again to remember dream about being stuck on a plane with only my plane ticket, and not being allowed to disembark since I don't have a passport, visa, etc. - Guess I still have travelling on the brain. 3.

6:17 a.m. Penners will not let up, she simply must use the resty this very moment. 3.

6:19 a.m. Back to sleep. 10.

8:00 a.m. Alarm goes off, muster strength and energy to go work during what feels like the longest week ever, even though I took Tuesday off due to severe jet lag. 4.

8:20 a.m. Start getting dressed realizing that what I'm wearing makes me look like a common streetwalker, in ill-fitting clothes, rethink outfit. 5.

8:25 a.m. Decide on sailor chic for work today, am still considering the sailor cap. 7.

8:26 a.m. Decide against sailor cap, no one respects sailors. 6.

8:44 a.m. Head to work, iPod is playing some questionable tunes this morning, although my spirits are lifted when I hear the one and only Brooks and Dunn come on the stereo. Hot damn, Kix, your falsetto is uh-MAZE-ing! 10.

9:00 a.m. Clock in at work, right on time. Yes, I'm 30, and an hourly employee. It's suck-city. 5.

9:00 a.m. Concurrently scan security badge to get into building and notice that I always wear it on the waist of my pants/skirts and that to scan it, I unwittingly do an exaggerated crotch thrust toward the badge scanner. I'm sure this is a nice sight for the Security folks in the morning. Hel-LO Er-bear's vagina! 7.

9:02 a.m. Elevator ride to office floor. Alone. 20, no question.

9:24 a.m. Email coworkers about getting coffee, only to realize that we have an All Staff Meeting in 6 mins. Burn. 7.

9:30 a.m. Am at All Staff Meeting sitting by myself, and someone yells my name only to tell me that I look "lonely" - what?!? I can't sit by myself? 3.

10:32 a.m. All Staff Meeting ends, thank fucking god. How painful was that? Head to the 'Bucks to grab a latte with coworkers and realize we're only about 50 feet behind my boss, so we slow the pace. 4.

10:45 a.m. Am forced to have awkward convo with my boss about my trip and all of the food, when I know he's only asking because the various buttons, zippers, and ties on my person have looked to be under a great deal of stress since I returned. 1.

11:21 a.m Receive email containing this link: http://www.likecool.com/The_Pet_High_Chair--Pet--Gear.html 10. Absolutely. It's now on my Xmas list.

11:40 a.m. Email Ms. K about lunch, desperately hoping that she's not decided to work out today. 6.

11:42 a.m. She's not. Score. Lunch is on. Fighting urge to go to Black Eyed Pea and binge on chicken fried steak and drink the gravy straight-up. 8.

11:44 a.m. Trying to come up with excuses to get out of HH tonight. Cannot come up with any convincing ones. Wish I could just say that I want to drink at home, and not have to be around people. Guess I'm going. Boo. 4.

11:47 a.m. Enlisting others to come to HH with me, going so far as to offer to pay for their drinks. Momma's desps. And, in the red. 2.

11:49 a.m. Narrow lunch destinations to a my fave BBQ place, Peggy Sue's, or a sammy place, Zoe's. Ahhhhh, responsibilities. 7.

12:15 p.m. Leave for lunch with coworkers with the intent of sitting outside since the weather is so nice. 8.

12:30 p.m. Arrive at lunch destination, order, get settled at an outside table, but we are all too "polite" to talk about how it's actually too cold to sit outside, so we all subtly bundle ourselves over the course of lunch until we look like the little brother from Christmas Story. 6.

1: 20 p.m. Decide we all hate work and will drown our sorrows in cupcakes and cookies just down the way. 7.

1:57 p.m. Back to work, it was a long lunch, evidently. Love it. 7.

1:58 p.m. Decide I can't wait to eat my cinnamon donut cupcake, bite into it while the 2 cm thick greasy cinnamon, sugar exoskeleton (no lie) crumbles all over my clothes. 2.

2:00 p.m. - 4:32 p.m. Boring work shit. 3.

4:33 p.m. Get email from coworker asking about more work shit, head down to talk to her. We end up singing/dancing and watching Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative" video followed by Brit-Brit's bastardized version. 10, fo' sho'

5:15 p.m. Time to leave, realize HH has been cancelled. Felicity DVDs - here I come! 10!!!

5:36 p.m. Make some dinner and prepare the candles and hot oils for Felicity-palooza. 9.

6:09 p.m. Watching Felicity with a beer in hand. In bed. Nothing's better. 10!

8:32 p.m. After a couple hours of Felicity, get distracted and look up YMCA schedule for yoga tomorrow. Plan on going, but we'll see how that goes tomorrow morning. 6.

9:24 p.m. Take Miss Penners out for her last b-room of the night. Almost fall down the 3 stairs to the parking lot. P seems not concerned at all. 4.

9:25 p.m. Back in bed for more Felicity. 10!

9:26 p.m. Asleep. Like a total winner on Friday night. It's a 10 because I prefer this for a Fri night, btw.

All in all, in the words of the genius Ice Cube, today was a (relatively) good day. Awesome-city.

I think I'm needing another little scoop of sunshine

2010-02-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

I've been desperately fantasizing about getting a second dog, one that will be BFF with Penners. They will frolic together, spoon during the day while I am at work, play, and be generally adorable. These images represent how I imagine the adoption to play out...

LOOK! They're best friends!! I love it.

These little guys/ladies are so light on their feet!! Do you think they're playing hop scotch?

SPOON TIME!

It's Penney and Nickel/Dubloon! Do I dare name a pair of dogs after currency? Perhaps I do since some douche named my dog Penney. They're on the beach, of course. Getting their base tan on.

Family portrait time!

I would totally do this, if the stroller wasn't $300. Although really, are dogs made for strollers?Methinks not.

On another note, in googling "two dogs" - this was one of the results:

As someone with a refined appreciation for all the good wiener things in life, I find this painting just filthy. It certainly hints at a pair of hot dogs, but does it not look just like a pair of bloodied phalli? Nice try wiener Monet. Totes gross.

In celebration of my "ladies"

2010-02-05T19:38:00.000-08:00

Three of my favorite ladies (one in Beantown, another in Philly, and one in Dallas) have a fine appreciation for the good things in life: wieners and The Golden Girls.

I have fond memories of spending evenings at my grandparents' house and watching this show. My grandma loved it. I mean loved it. The g-parent's live elsewhere now, so I don't know about g-ma's TV watching habits now. But, I imagine us both sitting at our respective homes and watching it. And, I feel the same way about my three ladies. I imagine us all sitting at home and watching together, but separately. Connected. Always.

The last time the four of us were togeths, we had a discussion about who of us was Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose. I don't think we ever decided. I think there's a little of each of them in us. In case any of you have lived under a rock, and know nothing about the show...

Blanche: She's the sassy (read: slutty) one. She's a demure Southern belle with a penchant for sequins and penis.

Dorothy: Sophia's daughter. She's an amazon woman and sports a lot of baggy 80s power cardigans with big shoulders. She often gives people the "shut-the-fuck-up" look, and much like her mother, is insanely sarcastic, and she yells a lot. Tough love is her mantra.

Sophia: Dorothy's mom. She's cranky and sarcastic. She had a stroke that caused her to lack any verbal filtering. It makes me wish that I had a stroke, so I could speak freely. She's Sicilian and knows her way around the kitchen. She enjoys being "wacked out" on blood pressure meds.

Rose: She grew up on a farm in the Midwest and it takes her an eternity to tell stories. She knows how to speak to rodents. She often mentions the family pig and St. Olaf. She's ditsy and sweet, but has been known to fly off the handle (watch episode where she's hooked on pain pills - this so obvi inspired 90210 and Melrose Place before the even existed). Much like in real life, her character loves animals.

Here I sit at home on a Friday night. On my bday. With Penners at my side, watching hour upon hour of The Golden Girls, and I am blissfully thankful to have these three ladies in my life. One day, we'll all live togeths in a mostly pastel house in Florida romancing the local male geriatrics. I can't wait.

Why was this ad banner on my Evite page?

2010-02-05T08:56:00.000-08:00

Man oh man, big brother must really be monitoring my Googling of processed meats and adoration of wieners (of the digestible variety, not the pants variety).

Reasons I am my parents' daughter...

2010-01-31T17:01:00.000-08:00

I started writing this around the Holidays. It's almost February. Sue me.

I recently began reflecting on the things that drive me bonkers about my parents. Because really, what else are the Holidays for?

As any adult realizes, there are many, many things that I do, that are undoubtedly things that I picked up from my parents. Keep in mind that these are things that (as a moody adolescent, and now, a moody adult), drove/drive me crazy...even more so now that I've verified that I too am as lame as I once viewed my parents.

1. Dad - my dad, if he likes a song, or even hates it, finds the need to make words up. I remember taking road trips and putting in a pretty boss Another Bad Creation tape and my Dad trying to dance along and making up words that in no way expressed similar sentiments to the beautiful child-hip-hop love ballad "Iesha." I realized recently, that I also do this, and, much like my father, I not only make up lyrics, but my lyrics aren't even English, probably not any language.

2. Mom - My mom is totes not green. She uses paper towels like motherfucking hot cakes. All over the kitchen in their house at any given time, you can see crumpled paper towels adorning the fancy marble counter tops. As an extension of this, when at a restaurant that provides paper napkins, she crumples and rips that thing to shreds. At dinner one night, my mom and I were sitting next to each other. I looked down, and sure enough, my paper napkin was balled, frayed, and crumpled into a ghost of what it once was, just as my mom's was.

3. Dad - My Dad is anal, like REALLY anal. So anal that he eats his chips and french fries in order of size. I'll give you one guess who also performs this OCD ritual.

4. Mom - My mom views movies about/with animals (read: Marley & Me, The Green Mile, Old Yeller, Where the Fern Grows, Milo & Otis, etc.) with the sensitivity of a 14-year-old girl. The second there is even a threat of harm and/or violence to the animal, my mom immediately covers her eyes and ears and yells "NO! NO! Absolutely not!" Although I may not quote her, I pretty much provide an abridged (and possibly more dramatic) version of her performance complete with hysterical tears (if I've seen something that I don't like), and something close to a voluntary seizure.

5. Dad - When in the car, my dad holds his hand hovering over the radio dial, as if he's flirting with changing the radio station or CD track. This, my amigos, is probably the Number 1 thing that irritates the shit out of me. While I'm sitting there hoping that he'll change the station off of the awful Eagles Live cut of "Hotel California," his finger lingers, taunting me, saying "hey, I juuuuuust might change it," but before I know it, the song is over, and I'm even more annoyed that I was just forced to listen to an Eagles song. It's like Clockwork Orange. Well, I've noticed myself also doing this delightfully antagonistic action. And I hate myself even more for it.

6. Mom - As an extension of the animal thing, my mom is incredibly sensitive when it comes to furry things, in addition to being anti-animal-violence. She is so sensitive about this topic that she cries easily. Occasionally at the drop of a hat. My recent experience with this was while at the gym. There was was sweating it out on the elliptical and on the personal TV in front of me was the Purina Incredible Dog Challenge. I was in heaven. I watched a few events, and up came the Frisbee competition. I was so overcome with genuine joy in seeing the owners so proud of their dogs, so effusively happy in how well their doggie accomplishments, that I started crying. On the elliptical. In the gym. In front of people. I'm sure people looked at me in shock, and quite possibly with disgust, but I was happy dammit. And those were tears of (hysterical) joy.

7. Dad - My dad has a perverted, filthy sailor mouth, and I need not tell you who also has one. But, I will. Me.

8. Mom - While in the car as a child and slowly blossoming adolescent, I can remember my mom trying to juggle like 8 tasks at once. She would be putting on mascara, spritzing perfume, looking for a CD, changing the radio station, digging through her purse, all while driving. She still does this, and when in the car now, I remind her that our lives are in her hands, and, the likelihood of our survival is low. I've also realized that I too try and multitask while driving. I text, I try to find the perfect song on my iPod, I drink from a bottle of water (read: moonshine). It's a miracle that we're both still alive, really.

9. Dad - My dad approaches video games with the dedication, fortitude, and attention of a young boy who has just learned the art of masturbation. He plays hours and hours of Wii MarioKart, and used to play the hell out of Tetris. I too have logged hours and hours of MarioKart and Tetris. So much that my eyeballs and head were pounding because I don't blink when I play them, let alone breathe.

10. Mom - When my mom thinks something is funny, she convulses with laughter, and to put it quite simply, cannot stop laughing. What starts with a simple muffled chuckle ends in her gasping for oxygen. Now, most people do this, but she can find the most insignificant things funny. There's a video on YouTube (see below) where a bug or something flies toward a very composed reporter, and he flips out and starts speaking in a rather unintelligible dialect. I happened upon my mother watching this over and over and over again, and guffawing at the hilarity. Now, while I find it mildly humorous, she thought it was the best comedy since sliced bread. I've been known to, from time to time, do the exact same thing with happenings that aren't traditionally funny, but for whatever reason I double-over in laughter for a good real 5 minutes. And, at that point, I'm no longer laughing at whatever it was, but I am laughing at laughing. So silly, and people probs think I've got the mental acuity of Jon Goselin. Oh well, fuck 'em.

I've really sold myself. If this were a job interview, I'd have been escorted out by security hours ago, and, I would've had my heroin confiscated. C'est la vie.

Fire in the hole!!

2010-01-14T14:33:00.001-08:00

No, no, no, this does not refer to my lady-parts, although it does refer to a geographic location on my body awfully close to my bits.

Ms. K and I have been trying to eat right and exercise due to rapidly declining options in both of our wardrobes and my rapidly increasing cholesterol (my blood's now at what we can call butter consistency). We went to the gym for the first time this week on Monday. I wore sweatpants and a tee with holes in it, and Ms. K was practically swathed in sequins compared to me. Said sweatpants are for men, and I love them. They're baggy and gigantic, so I figured that they would be perfectly comfy to work out in. After about 30 mins on the tread mill, I realized that my pants kept falling down and were barely hanging on my giant Sasquatch hips. I spent the better part of the next 20 mins trying to rig my pants to stay up rather than fall to my ankles. The objective of this was to provide some much-needed fabric to put out the fire caused by the friction of my two Virginia Ham thighs rubbing together. Did you and your friends ever give each other "indian rug burns"? Imagine that on your inner thighs with raw skin. Imagine then putting Icy Hot on your raw skin and then taking sandpaper to it. That, my friends, is what my inner thighs felt like after 60 minutes of the searing pain that is walking/running on that blasted machine. Beauty is pain. Whatevs.

Stay tuned for more adventures at the gym.

Viet-what?

2009-12-30T14:33:00.000-08:00

Every time I mention to people that I am headed to Vietnam for vacay in March (with one of my favorite people), people seem confused, perplexed even that I am choosing to head to that specific country for vacation. Why the shock?

I just don't get it. "Vietnam?? Really?" they say, as if I just told them I volunteered to have my limbs removed.

In preparation for this trip, I went and got some vaccinations...two in one arm, a combo one in the other yesterday. I simply cannot move my GD arms today. It's excruciating, really, but worth it. Totally. How am I supposed to jerk off hobos now?!

My Mom's Holiday Card!

2009-12-21T10:04:00.000-08:00

If I made love to my friends, what would we bang to?*

2009-12-13T16:55:00.000-08:00

Ms. A: I would begin the seduction with "Service Bell" by Grizzly Bear and Feist...

And we would move into hardcore stuff to the tune of Eazy E's "Gimme That Nut." Pure class. No one knows love-making like Mr. Eazy E himself.

Ms. Lora: I'd begin with the classic Barry White's (May he rest) "Let Me In and Let's Begin with Love"

We'd get xtra freakers to Goldfrapp's "Slippage"

At last, we would spoon to Beyonce's "Smash Into You"

Ms. K: Straight up to Jesse McCartney's "Body Language"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*To my friends: If this makes you uncomfortable, then perhaps friends we should not be. Or, maybe you don't know me well enough, because really, I like to talk/write about weird shit.

Should I be embarassed (or proud?!) ...

2009-12-13T16:46:00.000-08:00

...that my Saturday night consisted of a Benny overdose and playing this on loop?

FB

2009-12-13T16:17:00.000-08:00

I recently decided to get off of Facebook for good. Nothing in particular happened. I wasn't hacked, solicited by a creepy dude, nor did I have my E-rep destroyed. Sadly, I just got bored, and, quite frankly I realized that I was stalking people WAY too much. I also thought that getting off FB would inspire me to keep in better touch with my actual friends, not the 400 strangers (AHEM, friends) online. After a mere 3 weeks, I've noticed that I do not keep in touch my friends any better than I did before. If anything, it's worse b/c I'm not plugged into what everyone is doing. I can't log on anymore and let Joe know that I want him "inside me" or let Lora know "Holy biscuits and gravy, I had THE best tacos yesterday" or tell my mom that the pics she posted are awful because 1) I look fat and 2) I'm pretty sure it looks like I'm finger banging (and simultaneously humping) the family dog. I feel lost and aimless, and it's awful. Sadly, I'm nostalgic for something that really just blew giant giraffe balls anyway. I'm not missing anything, except for maybe the most recent viral vid or some high-school acquaintance's mind-blowing, well-informed opinion that "Sarah Palin ROX" or finally accepting the "fact" that "Jesus is the reason for the season." Ummm, I'm pretty sure WHAM! is the reason for the season, and you can quote me on that.

I leave you with...Mr. George Michael (the human, not the doggie celeb) and the other dude...

P.S. Everyone knows that G.M. is wistfully pining for the hot piece of man ass, not that oozy cooch

20 Things that I'm thankful for

2009-12-13T16:02:00.000-08:00

I thought that in the spirit of the holidays, I would write a list of things that I am thankful for:

1. Penners (hands down, she's numba one, hooks)

2. Penners (and number 2 while we're at it)

3. Tacos (and cilantro)

4. Dollar Tree (specifically around Xmas time)

5. Spray adhesive (for huffing, of course)

6. Captains of any vessel that go by the name "Cappy"

7. Parenthesis

9. My paycheck (which allows me to barely make my rent every month)

10. Ms. A's blog

11. Sweet Lora's blog

12. Potatoes

13. The words "skank," "cooter" and "poon-tang" (I'm not sure if the latter is hyphenated or not. Anyone?)

14. Beyonce's crooning (specifically the songs "Smash Into You" and "Halo"

15. WHAM!'s "Last Christmas"

16. My mastery of dancing

17. Microdermabrasion (TBD)

18. Booze

19. When people trip and fall (myself included)

20. Danny DeVito

Adam Lambert, Sunglasses, and the Fleshlight

2009-11-24T08:47:00.001-08:00

I will begin with my most recent life developments.

1. Adam Lambert
I didn't see his AMA performance, but I sure did download his new album (illegally, of course! Do you really think I'd pay $9.99 for that, iTunes?!?). I seriously cannot get over "For Your Entertainment." I choreographed a little number in preparation for an invitation from Mr. Lambert himself to join him on stage for a performance. It involves a lot of robot-ing, shoulder shimmying, and strutting. Can you ask for more?

Also, I totes could have been Adam Lambert for Halloween! I would've made a good one with the tranny makeup and the hair. Although, I'm not as pretty as he is, nor can I sing like a Vegas showgirl. But, I can rock a studded jacket and pompadour like nobody's business. Or can I? The jury's still out.

As a side note, sure, I didn't see the AMA performance, but I heard about it and saw a vid clip. Ummm, who the fuck cares if he simulated a beej or made out with a male band-member? I say kudos to him for keeping people's attention in a world where Whitney Houston sings a fucking ballad. Color me bored.

2. Sunglasses
I was on the way to work this morning and sporting my giant black aviators, and I thought to myself how much more tolerable work would be if we all wore sunglasses. I could take naps and stare at the girl who perpetually dresses inappropriately or the person who wears mustard-colored velvet vests, or, let's be honest, the guy with the baby arm.

Although, I guess all of these things would also be possible if we were allowed to drink and/or do heroin on the job too. Such is life.

3. The Fleshlight*
Many of my two readers will know that this contraption called the Fleshlight is wondrously magical to me, not to mention absolutely gut-bustingly hilarious. I broach this subject however to tell a tale of a "date" wherein I drank 6 pints of Harp in 2 hours and proceeded to explain to my "date" the nuances of this magical device. And, I pulled up the website on my phone and showed him pictures and thankfully, the vids are Flash, otherwise he would've surely been horrified. You see, my pets, I am awful at dating. Like really awful. I am a much better girlfriend than a casual something, and even still, the girlfriend thing eludes me at times. The older I get, the more uncomfortable I get in my own skin on a social outing like this "date." I get anxious and nervous like I did in grad school before presentations. I'm serious when I say that I was literally shaking when I walked into the bar to meet this guy. I do my best to refrain from talking about things like a) The Fleshlight, b) the fact that I sweat a lot, c) pooping, and d) my crazy dog blog, among other things, really. I had a brief stint a few years ago where I was dating 5 guys at once. It was exhausting and confusing. I could never remember who I talked to about what. Case and point, I made the mistake of inviting 2 of these said guys to the same Bday party. Gulp. I was texting one that it was a private party and that the bouncers "aren't letting anyone else in." Umm, totes bullshit. But hey, at least I told Trav the truth about the Wolf douche who drove all the way from Hearst/Mesquite/Arlington to this party where he wasn't let in (whatevs, I can't keep all those little towns straight - they're all the same as far as I'm concerned). Actually, I think I also remember making up some story about helping a friend in the bathroom b/c she "drank too much." Honey, if anyone drank too much that night, it was me. As usual. Wolf douche believed me. Success. You see, I multitask at work and at home, the last thing I want to do in my romantic (I hate that word) life is multitask. I hate dating, and I hate most people, so we're at a bit of a standstill here. I also have no idea how to meet people. I don't think Dallas is the best place for a lady of the world like myself to meet someone that I can tolerate.

Wow, tangent, back to the Fleshlight...from what I remember on this "date," the guy was laughing, not hysterically, but laughing pretty hard. I could not, and cannot, figure out whether or not he was actually laughing at the absurdity of the Fleshlight OR at the absurdity of me and how insane I am. I've since apologized and he was OK with it. He found it entertaining, maybe not as entertaining as I do, but entertaining nevertheless. Score.

*If you do not know what a Fleshlight is, I implore you to look it up and watch the vids. You will not be disappointed.

Lez Girls

2009-10-01T08:33:00.000-07:00

Peeps, I'm a little behind on my TV because I get 4 channels in English, but I recently signed up for NetFlix, and have been watching hours upon hours of The L Word. Certainly, one could blame my lack of a social life on this. Well, if watching 40+ hours of The L Word is wrong, I don't want to be right. So far, I am on Season 5, episode 1, and I watch at least a couple of hours a day. Two weekends ago, I spent about 8 hours watching the show on Saturday. Fuck nice weather, I thought, I need to catch up with the girls. Totes.

Here are a few indications that I may be spending too much time watching this program:

1. A colleague at work said that she "went out" with a female friend of hers. I immediately assumed that they were lesbos. Keep in mind that my colleague is engaged to a man, but my imagination jumped to the assumption that they were strapping on and eating out.

2. If Katherine Moennig (Shane) walked up to me right now (even though she's straight in real life), I would bang her. Or have her bang me. No second thoughts. It doesn't hurt that she has an androgynous thing going on. Behold:

3. I'm pretty sure I've been thinking about the characters on The L Word as real people, and more importantly, my friends. I have not yet casually mentioned my plans with them in conversation with friends, but it's coming, I can feel it.

4. I've been convinced a few times in rather innocuous situations that I am a lez. Not for any particular reason but because it's the culture that I've been a part of for the majority of the past few weeks. Lezzies are normal, straight peeps are square.

In short, perhaps I should take more time to nurture my social life in a more productive and less imaginary way. We'll see...I already have plans tonight. To watch more of The L Word, that is.

Hip Hop, Hip Hop, Hip Hoppapatamus

2009-09-29T20:07:00.000-07:00

This evening I went to my second Hip Hop I dance class with Colleen, Amy, and Ms. K. Colleen and I went last week and it's a nice workout. You see, I am in search of exercise which actually masquerades as something else. I hate running and I went running/walking today in addition to dance class because I feel like a cow.

Dance class is an interesting environment. Very much like my former softball league, there are those in the BEGINNERS class that clearly have had a lifetime's worth of dance training, but they choose to be in the beginners class to make people like me look like clumsy boners. They ask the teacher if the B-Boy move ends on the 7 count rather than the 8, and they rehearse during the water break. If I smoked, I would go outside for the water break, not rehearse the routine that I will forget instantly as I exit the classroom. Perhaps I should take up smoking.

I had this childhood (read: adult) fantasy of being a dancer (no, not stripper) because face-it, they're hot and they're probably good in bed due to the perpetual gyrating (I know, I've used that word two blog posts in a row, sue me), but who am I kidding? I can certainly keep the beat, but anything beyond a shoulder shimmy and a little filthy grinding far exceeds my skill level, and I am OK with that, but I do ask that those sluts in class choose to take the ADVANCED class and not the beginning one, please.

2009-09-29T08:12:00.000-07:00

Jesus, I've come to the rather shocking realization that I don't have much to say lately. I received a FB message last night imploring me to blog more often, which I will try, but really, my life isn't that GD exciting.

This past weekend I went to a wedding in Charlotte, NC. Yes, I go to a wedding every few weeks or so because that's how I roll. Evidently. One would deduce that I have no friends left to get married, but unfortunately, my brother's friends are now getting married, which means that I have an entire generation of weddings remaining. YAY! There were a few moments at this wedding where I found myself getting misty, I remedied this by heading to the bar to drink more. Because really, what's a better way to fix that? Drinking more then made me think that it was a good idea to make my mom dance with me to classics like "Get Low" and a variation to ghetto rap songs. She was horrified. But was enough socially lubricated to be only mildly embarrassed. I lied. I pretty much had to drag her kicking and screaming to the dance floor. And I know no one more self-conscious about dancing than her. I'm pretty sure part of her died inside when this happened.

I returned to Dallas to decide that since my face has revealed itself to be an oil slick, that I would return to the safety of birth control. Do you remember those commercials for Noxzema, where they compare the one kid to pizza? Well, I do, and I'm pretty sure that was me in a past life or something. My face is everything in the motherfucking fridge: pizza, pasta, and maybe a ham sandwich. Not to mention, when I feel myself ovulating (read: my body is ripe for procreating. Gross.), I got shooting pains down my legs and my ovaries ached (if any of you readers with wieners can imagine). So, back to the land of the medicated lady-parts.

In addition, my friends Ms. K, Sweet Lora, and I have made plans to go visit Ms. A in Beantown in November. We got the flight for a steal and let me tell you, the trip can't come soon enough. Also, I am trying to get "SweetDick" to come over from State College, PA in order to cram my catching up all into one trip. Not to mention, I am pretty sure that SweetDick will ADORE Ms. K, Ms. A, and Sweet Lora. I think we're all long-lost soul mates together. It will be a trip for the ages.

In February, this "lady" turns 30. I fear 30 like I do death, cockroaches, and close-talkers. So in order to deny my aging, I plan on going on a fancy trip to distract myself. One of my dearest friends and I are attempting to plan a trip to Vietnam, and maybe Laos. How awesome would that be to ring in the big 3-0?? I must also mention, however, that February also brings the Graduate Record Examination (or GRE) the day after my actual Bday. I figure at the very least, it will be a nice respite from standardized testing and aging.

Well, back to work.

You're welcome, Ollie.*

*Or maybe you aren't since these posts are progressively less eventful.

"Labor" day

2009-09-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

It's Labor Day today, and happily I slept in (with the aid of some bennies) until 11, and am now watching the US Open on tv. I just saw Melanie Oudin advance to the Women's Singles Quarterfinals. Keep in mind 2 things:

1) Melanie is 17-years-old

2) I am less than half a year away from the dreaded 30 and have never enjoyed watching tennis, until now, evidently

There's nothing like watching an entire day of tennis (or any sport, for that matter) on tv to be reminded of how little you're accomplished in life. Let's see, what have I done, oh, wait, many things!

I ate 11 donuts and 2 kolaches in one sitting once (keep in mind that I was 17 at the time, I'd like to see Melanie do that!)
Among my family, I hold steady at 3rd place in MarioKart
At one point I was really awesome at Scrabble, until I watched this Scrabble documentary, which revealed that I was actually rather sub-par at the game
I probably hold the (unofficial) record for most hours logged on Tastespotting.com

Annnd, I think that's it...those are some accomplishments to be proud of right?!?

Umm, and is it just me or it tennis player Tommy Robredo smokin' hot??

Actually, can I take that back? If the below is his "oh" face, I want no part of it.

I just looked up "women's hormones" in order to find a witty blog title and came up with...

2009-08-20T16:35:00.000-07:00

"Symptoms of Hormone Imbalance in Women"
"Sexiest Public Hairstyles"
"How to tell if your vagina is..."

You see, the reason I was looking this up was because I this past weekend decided to go off the "anti-baby" pill. Please, close your mouths and stop your screeching. I've decided to do this with the hope that it will boost my mood and maybe make me feel a little better. Plus, I'm not bangin' anyone, so now is a good time to give this an 'ole college try. My delicate ovaries have been hopped up on hormone juice since I was 15, so at the very least, I want to see how my body will react. To see if it will go bat-shit crazy or to see if it will make me feel like a new woman.

Needless to say, I've been 3 days sober and I feel absolutely, positively awful. Thankfully, I have an office at work, so when I started bawling today after reading an email about a dog named Tank, my door was closed. This is on top of near narcoleptic tendencies, like two days ago, when after eating about 6 pounds of food, I fell asleep on my couch and woke up 2 hours later. I appear to also have developed what can only be described as stomach spasms which are so deliciously coupled with exceptionally acute abdominal cramping. What a fucking delight!!

Anywho, it'll be interesting to see what kind of beast I turn in to, so I will keep you dears posted on my uterine status! I just know you'll be waiting with bated breath!

Gonna get mah hurrr did.

2009-08-20T12:59:00.000-07:00

Greetings, my princes and princesses! I have decided to take off from work today at 4 to get my hair did at the "Beauty Shop" as they once called it. No, mine is not a quick $40 perm and trim in an old house swathed in pinks and lacy textiles, but this is a place with cement floors, exposed brick, and minimalist decor wherein I hand over $90 of my hard-earned cash to have Magical Matt trim half an inch off of my slow-growing (now 2-inch-long) mop. I was searching for some hairstyles, you know, because I have so many options since I basically have a buzz cut, and came across some "Greatest Hits" for my head.

Option 1:

No, my sillies, this is not actually an option, but it was one of the more "recent" uploads to my favorite hair website. Seriously? It can't be. It's like someone's school picture. Whatevs.

Option 2:

This seems versatile, does it not? It's just in case I feel like being bull-dykey or just slightly androgynous like Shane on the L Word. Either way, thank god I have chesticles to make me look like a slightly hormonally confused woman.

Option 3:

I'm typically paralyzingly afraid of anything involving an electric razor, but how hot is this white-girl Grace Jones 'do? Answer: Not at all. It scares me. I would need tats for this. And piercings. Multiple. Oh, and a wiener.

Option 4:

Just in case I feel like being E-Mo and moody. I don't even understand the physics of this. Is that an eagle wing? I would also need asps for eye brows. So, I guess this is a no go.

Option 5:

Is it gross that I legitimately like this? Princess Leia + JSimp Hair Extensions + rainbow = awesome.

Perhaps I'll just let Magic Matt do what he wishes...hopefully, I won't end up with this...

Another One Bites the Dust...

2009-08-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

This weekend I went to my 400th wedding of the past few years. One of my college roommates merged spiritually with her soul mate last night. Man, oh man have things changed. I still feel like a 12-year-old around all of my adult friends of the same age. While they discussed diapers, daycare, and breastfeeding, I sat there trying to shove enough booze into my mouth so that dancing wouldn't feel so weird later. It seems as if dancing has become an interesting challenge for me at my elderly age. Suddenly, dancing to "Boom Boom Pow" and "Get Low" feels like the challenge of the century - since when do I have no rhythm and just shift my weight and throw my shoulders all around?!?!? I felt like it looked as if I may have been having a seizure. Perhaps I was.

One of the songs they played at the reception was Brooks and Dunn's "Neon Moon" - yes, you're correct in thinking that this delicious duo consists of Ronnie Dunn and Kix Brooks. Yes. Kix. With an X. I found out this week that Kix and Ronnie were parting ways. WHAT?!?!? This is awful. If Kix and Ronnie can't make it, then who in the fuck can?!! I did not dance to "Neon Moon" but I did find myself singing along wistfully thinking about times of yore at the rodeo when I saw them live. Keep in mind that at the rodeo I also saw Charlie Daniels Band, Jerry Jeff Walker, Django Walker, Hank Williams Jr., Lynyrd Skynyrd, Kelly Clarkson, Nick Lachey, and more. No, my dears, not all in one year, but this was spread out over the course of my painful adolescence, and sadly, adulthood. Kells and Nickers were seen a few years ago and I jumped at the opportunity to go - why the fuck not? It promised, at the very least, to be entertaining. I loved the idea of being in the presence of little girls who were just beginning to feel "things" downstairs at the sight of Nick and the sound of his rich, honey crooning. I went with a group of girlfriends and we quickly realized that there were no lines for beer. Score. I was sold. There's nothing better than NOT having to wait in line for a $9 16 ounces of pure Coors urine. So, I got plenty beered up and sang along with Kells and swooned alongside a group of screeching 11-year-olds. I was in my element. I often think back to those simple times (read 6-7 years ago) and wish for sexual tension in the form of a D-list former boy-band/reality show star. Hot. God, I miss being 23 when I still couldn't manage my drinking and lived at home. Livin' the dream.

What a worthless blog entry. This is what you all get when I sit down to write and try to force something, Ms. A. Here's to hoping there's less where this came from...

I leave you with this. Drink it in, peeps.

Who saw Val Kilmer in Thunderheart? I sure did.

2009-07-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

It is in the sacred spirit of the 1992 classic Thunderheart that I write this blog. Before I begin, may I ask IMDB why this film has gone down in popularity over the last week!?!?

A friend and I were chatting today about a little vid she sent me over email...it was clip of a baby bear falling asleep. This bear vid prompted me to hastily claim my "Indian" name as "Sleeping Bear." I quickly rethought my claim, as I already have an "Indian" name: Princess Strong Heart. My dad and I were in a little organization called (so un-PC) Indian Princesses. This was an opportunity for daddy* and daughter to spend some time with other daddies and daughters. We once went on a canoe trip with our "tribe" and I slept the whole way in the canoe, leaning up against the ice chest. Daddy paddled the whole way, although I doubt my stringy 10-year-old arm strength would've helped. Daddy also made me a fancy fringed leather vest with my name symbol on the back - very Member's Only. No, my name symbols looked nothing like this:

But it looked more like this:

Do you like my Microsoft Paint stylings? Of course you do.

I digress, the point of this was to assign "Indian" names to my very dear friends who are all equally deserving of this blessing, as well as name symbols.

Ms. L: Princess Magician Assistant

Ms. A: Princess Baby Arm

Ms. K: Princess Soothing Soul

Mr. T: Prince Thunder Pants

Madame Penners: Princess Shrimp Tampico

And I leave you with this:

Make what you like of it...but I love it.

*Please note that my use of "Daddy" does not extend past this blog. I use it ironically, and if you didn't get it initially, you probs shouldn't be reading this blog anyway.

Poop schmoop.

2009-07-10T09:14:00.001-07:00

This is how exciting my life is, I am blogging about Penney's digestive cycles.

Penners has now taken to pooping and peeing on the concrete. This comes from an OCD dog who has NEVER used a hard surface for the restroom, reminiscent of the dog in As Good As It Gets who doesn't walk on sidewalk cracks. I have a small grassy area (knoll, if you will) outside of my place where I take Penners in the mornings to use the resty. Penney now looks at this courtyard with paralyzing fear when we head out there in the mornings and some afternoons. Although, one delightful thing about this is that Penners (twice, now) had decided to crap right by my obnoxious neighbor's driver's side door. I imagine her on her fucking bluetooth(douche) talking all about things that I could care less about and hopping into her 4 Runner (she's SO not green) and realizing that she has dog shit all over her 4 inch lucite skank shoes ("what?!?!?!? My lucite!!! NO!)."

It brings me so much joy to imagine that.

So, while I frequently find myself put out that Miss P has taken to cement like hot-cakes, I need to remind myself that Penners is doing this for the greater good. She's such a giver.

July 4th - Independence Day??

2009-07-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

Here I am in Houston for the 4th of July. Not because there's a huge shin-dig, but because momma needed to get the fuck outta Dodge. This is how exciting my evening was last night:

- Watched Wall-E and cried

- 2 hours of What Not to Wear

- Took one "Sleep Aid"

- Found myself drifting off into space

- Went to bed, only to watch something that I was REALLY into, but do not remember what it was.

I am here because yet another relationship has failed, and I needed some time away from the Big D. There are numerous other places I could have gone, but that would have provided much temptation that would have led to boozing and bad decisions. Am I too old for that??!? It seems not, since that's pretty much what my last week was like. I spent one evening drinking at 6 pm and talking shop with the ladies, watching Super Bad on loop, dancing to my "Fiesta" play list and then shaving a man-friend's face to look like he had a Hitler moustache. I did not go to bed until 4 am.

Fast forward to the weekend. I am here in Houston, haven't touched a drop of booze since Monday night, but find myself crying during commercials for Cotton, diapers, and adult incontinence aids. I have not left the house in a few days and am actually considering waking up early tomorrow morning to drive back and go into work for a bit. Eeek. I am hoping that this will pass...soon. I can't go into a morning meeting on Monday start bawling - that's not exactly proffesh, not to mention...the second you cry at work, you are the reason that women can't be in any position of authority. The future of Womanhood is perched atop your shoulders much like the world upon Atlas'. Ahhhhh, poetics. There's really no need for them at this juncture, is there?

All one of you that read this don't really care for poetics, huh? Well, actually, my audience may have steeply declined to a whole goose-egg now that I am no longer dating my one reader. Sigh. Maybe I should just start banging a bunch of people...that should get me an audience, right? Maybe just an audience for my vagina, so I should probably think that through.

Well, hopefully this next week will be better. Really, it couldn't be worse...wish me luck...

From the mouths of babes

2009-06-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

Has it really been this long since I've blogged? Sadly, I can't blame a crazy busy schedule on my lack of blogging...sigh. But I can blame a lot of Wii-playing and a lot of Netflix-watching. A little bit (who am I kidding, a lot) of drinking.

Although, I was pretty much out of commish for two weeks with graduation festies and the opening of two shows here at work, so can I drag that out over the course of more than just a couple of weeks??

The last thing I left you with was a "live" blog of ANTM dates April 29?!?!? How embarrassing...what if I had died and the last vestige of my contribution to this earth was a "live" blog of ANTM that I accidentally erased half of??? What a glamorous life I lead...Fergie was singin' about me when she rapped alongside Luda...woot woot.

First off, can I admit my creepy daddy crush on Tom Selleck? I just saw that handsome piece of old meat on ET.

Second of all, Penney likes to sit alongside me when I type on the couch and she presses her warm, furry body (that sounds creepy) all up on my right arm and it causes it to cramp...severely. But because she was abused by some sick dick-hole and I want to give her the best life ever, I sacrifice the circulation in my right arm night after night, all for her comfort. What a GD martyr I am.

My dad just called me to get the name and number of a Native American appraiser. No, my poodles, not an appraiser who is Native American, but an appraiser who specializes in Native American objects. We can thank my non-P.C. parents for comments and inquiries like that. They have the best of intentions, especially around me, but really...the things that come out of their mouths sometimes....

Anywho, I didn't have much to say except "hey."

ANTM, Season 12 - Booyah.

2009-04-29T16:48:00.000-07:00

I thought why the fuck not - I am going to live blog tonight's ep of America's Next Top Model!

6:51 pm - I cannot fucking wait for this to start, the preview is exciting! It insinuates that Celia isn't as bad-ass as she thought and that Nigel has to show her how to pose in the shoot.....yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

7:00 pm - what's up with the E-mo/Mod intro this season? I don't get it. Tyra is such a douche, but the woman knows good (read shitty) tv. I really like Allison and Fo (or however you spell it).

7:02 pm - god, that Dance Flick movie looks so awful - what does the ad say about it's demographic and it being advertised during ANTM - sigh.

7:04 pm - let's get to the photo shoot already...I'm bored.

7:06 - it's the Go-sees episode!!!! This makes or breaks you!

7:09 - awww, poor Allison...she walks like a young fawn just learning how to stand

7:12 - commercial already, Hayden Panettiere annoys the shit out of me - I think she's just been added to my Top 5 fuckers I want to kill or punch in the face, whichever comes first. Tilda as the voice for Oil of Olay? Booooooo. At least it's just her voice and she's not vomiting out cheery exclamations in a Neutrogena commercial. Umm, who shops at Cato? What is it? Is she really painting? vom.

7:17 - I want to go to Brazil.

7:18 - Goddamned weather alert interrupting my tv!

7:19 - ouch, Aminat just said Celia looked crazy old

7:20 - Yikes, Fo is commercial??

7:22 - And everyone's there but Fo - :( She's so going to get DQ'd. Uh-oh, Celia and Fo are DQ'd - they have to take the cab and not the helicopter

7:25 - Teyona won the challenge...she's squealing, I want to hit her. Ummmmm, she's still screeching. Yuck.

7:30 - swimsuits! Allison is worried about being in a swimsuit. She may be thin, but at least she wouldn't look like a sausage stuffed into that thing like me.

7:33 - Fo is sucking a big one at the shoot

7:34 - Allison's up, she did well!! She's all kinds of sexy, YAY for Allison.

7:36 - Uh-oh, here goes Nigel showing what Celia to do...she's depressed, I would be to if I pulled that playing with the sand business - what's that all about???

Fuuuuuck. I just deleted half of this blog. That blows. I quit.

Sweet television...

2009-04-27T19:14:00.001-07:00

Sadly, thanks (or should I say no-thanks) to my new fancy TV...I've developed a semi-regular program-watching regime.

I came to this realization this evening watching Gossip Girl and avoiding preparing for a lunch meeting that I have tomorrow. Also, I noticed a sick crush on Chuck Bass (the resident dick-wad on the show). Man is that guy pretty, but there's no one better suited to play such a pompous A-hole. He is even looks a little bit like an anus in the face - slightly pursed and all. What does that say about me? I guess I'll never know because, quite frankly, I'd rather never think of that comparison again.

Why is it that shows that are supposed to be about high school kids always feature actors that are clearly NOT that age and also engage in dialogues that are far beyond how I imagine most high-schoolers to speak (i.e. in acronyms and abreves)?

Case-and-point Dawson's Creek - those kids had a vocabulary and self-reflection to rival tenure-track philosophy professors...see for your sweet selves...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEUH3uIyXxw

OK, I know that this "clip" is 9 minutes long, but you only need get 2 mins in to realize that these kids are having conversations that most adults I know don't have. It's sickening really, oh, and by sickening, I mean engrossing and utterly captivating. Sure, the producers throw in eating disorders and your stereotypical adolescent bad decisions, and even public service knocked-up stories...but when did high schoolers start drinking scotch/swigging martinis (Gossip Girl), talking investments (Gossip Girl), having existential crises (Dawson's Creek), speaking in verbiage so complicated that SAT-exam writers get confused (Dawson's Creek), and jet-setting off to Ibiza (also, Gossip Girl, I think I see a theme here)?

Ummm, if this were a correct portrayal of high school wouldn't they be drinking wine coolers/Natty light, talking PS3/trying to convince their significant other to bang, having personal crises like what to wear to school on the free-dress day, speaking in ridonkles vocab (like using the work ridonkles), and jet-setting off to luxurious Cozumel with thousands of other hedonism-seeking horny 17-year-olds with the hopes that you'll get a glimpse of a breast, just one would be OK, but two would be fabulous.

In the words of Mac from It's Always Sunny..."the kids aren't bopping anymore, they're banging each other and doing meth before they hit grade school."

So sad.

2009-04-27T18:57:00.001-07:00

http://yborcitystogie.blogspot.com/2009/04/artist-james-rosenquist-of-aripeka.html

This would look gorge with the shoes below!

2009-03-25T16:37:00.000-07:00

Alexander McQueen Satin One-Shoulder Dress, $1,995 via net-a-porter

Love 'em...it's a sickness

2009-03-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gents...behold the Balmain Crystal Embelished Studded Sandals...for the inexpensive price of $2,300!

Big News!

2009-03-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

It was a pretty crazy week(end) for two reasons:

1. I found out that I am officially finished with my thesis!

2. BF an I finally decided to move in together!

An addendum: I officially decided that I need to wean myself off of exclamation points. (I resisted ending the previous sentence in said punctuation)

I will be turning in my thesis to the graduate school on Friday and have absolutely no idea what I will do with my free time. It's insane...last night I had no idea what to do. I made myself some food and watched some TV, but was struck with thoughts of - "Oh shit, what do I do now?" Oh well, I just need to bask in the fact that I am finished at least for a few weeks :)

And, BF and I plan on moving in together in August. Aug is when my lease is up and we will move into a new place rather than me moving in with him or vice versa. I think this is a good thing b/c I can tell you that if he moved into my place it would be really, REALLY difficult. We need a neutral space that neither of us has lived in previously. I already freaked out about him putting a cookie on the counter which had dried fruit in it (which oozes for the two of you that read this and don't know). That is something I am going to have to work on - patience (not one of my virtues). I am, quite possibly, the most impatient person on earth, it's sick really. I hate waiting in lines, I hate getting stuck in traffic, and if it involves some uncontrolled time issue - I am miserable. So...some things to work on, that's for sure. I am so excited about this though, I can't wait to start looking for a new place. Combining our stuff, deciding to get rid of half of my shit, and hanging all of our art excites me to no end!

So it's been a week(end) of many anticipated changes - YAY!

A gorgeous dress I have been wanting to blog about:

2009-03-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

How hot is this Beetle Juice extravaganza?!!? What can I say, I have been into stripes lately.

Thsi striking lady is Ángeles González Sinde President of the Spanish Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. So she's succesful, gorgeous, and moneyed...I hate her already. She's wearing Devota & Lomba

Devota & Lomba is a Spanish label that has been in business since 1988. They do pret-a-porter, Much like Mr. Roland Mouret, they seem to do very interesting things with lines and very architectural tailoring - i'm sold.

P.S. The image is from one of my favorite blogs: Red Carpet Fashion Awards

My vice reincarnated...

2009-03-10T08:40:00.001-07:00

Here she is...the Be&D Garbo Satchel. She's a little bit like my Burberry albeit about $1.5K cheaper...at the affordable price of $1, 309.

Is it bad that I still think of my Burberry Prorsum bag soul mate? That I search for it on EBay?

...sigh

Yikes...

2009-03-07T09:32:00.000-08:00

Has it really been since November that I last mused? Wow. How things slip away!

Well, I am actually at work today, not working necessarily, but doing some editing. It seems as if this will be my very last content editing session with my thesis advisor. I am petrified and don't know what I will do without my thesis around to stress me out. I don't know how I did it for 2 and a half months of nothing but thesis and dad in the hospital. It's all turned out just fine actually. Dad's still not back at work, he went back into the hospital last week but was out before the weekend. Poor guy. Poor mom. I feel so helpless being here in Dallas and not there to help them. But as BF told me, I do all that I can do to help out when I am there. There's only so much I can do to help from 275 miles away.

BF and I are considering moving in together, which has caused me to freak out a few times. Being that I have never done the moving in before, nor has he, we're tackling the consideration with the time and energy that its taken to read War & Peace (i.e. an eternity). It's been interesting conversation after conversation about the issues that I have, not me...him! Like I am perfect?!?!?! Yikes, there are probably all kinds of habits that I have that are grating and awful, but he is too kind to point them out. The idea of living together is exciting though with the grocery shopping and the being able to have guests spend the night, AND the spending of most of our time together!!! YAY! If BF is reading this, he might be having a panic attack. :)

OK, perhaps more later, but I am off to get the follicles chopped...wish me luck!

A quick commercial break...

2008-11-04T20:37:00.000-08:00

I'm frantically writing this eve, but I must pause to say Holla! to democracy.

YAY for Obama!!

Hysteria.

2008-10-13T16:09:00.000-07:00

Since, ohhhhhh, I don't know about a month and a half ago I realized that I had been enrolled in grad school for 5 years...going on six. How depressing...

You see, my graduate school has a policy that your classes that go toward your degree plan expire after 6 years....well, my GRE has already expired and now my classes are threatening to?!?! It can't be!

Due to this mounting pressure...I have begun preparation to actually graduate in May...yes, May...yes, it's far off. However, my school has this thing that you can apply for graduation the semester before, not make the first deadline, but make a later one and not have to pay tuition and you're already finis...but you just have to "wait" to graduate. With this mounting pressure comes actual work. My job's been more than demanding lately as I get there an hour early and still cannot finish everything that I need to. But I have to go home to my dog and my thesis.

With this work comes no social life AT ALL! Seriously, the BF and I used to spend at least 3-4 nights together a week. Now it's one...maybe 2 if we're lucky. I used to go out for work HHs...I don't do that any more, I go home, eat, walk Penners and then sit and write for a few hours...go to bed, wake up, repeat. I've also begun dreaming, or more appropriately "nightmaring" about it, not to mention I also look less healthy than I have in years with all the no rest and all. It is just so depressing that I have no free time, I have to get this finished. It'll happen and at least there's an end in sight, but while in the midst of it all, it feels awful, humbling, and terrifying. Once I finish this though I will have nothing haunting me, nothing keeping me from going out and getting drinkies with my coworkers...absolutely nothing...it's the possibility of that euphoria that keeps me working toward this piece of paper that I am not even sure I want anymore.

Sigh.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

2008-10-03T06:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.bucksherald.co.uk/news/Sadness-as-Rupert-the-baby.4551419.jp

Ummmm, I got all misty at work (in the privacy of my own office), but still...

Poor little Rupert!

Talk about warm and fuzzy! (I can't help it)

2008-10-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1065209/Meet-deer-little-handful-called-Rupert-delivered-Caesarean-section-mother-killed-car.html

Evidently, there was a teeeeeeeny deer named Rupert who was delivered via C-section because his mom-deer was hit by a human-car...that person is awful...

See Rupert:

Photos courtesy of Daily Mail Online

This makes me want to run home to Penners and snuggle up!

"Where are we?"

2008-09-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here in Memorial Hermann Intermediate Care Unit with my dad. This has been a really earth shattering experience for the entire family I think.

Dad got back from traveling in Eastern Asia and my brother had to take him to the hospital immediately. He has pancreatitis. This involves inflammation of the pancreas, however, he is one of 1% of people that get it so bad that they have trouble breathing, and, he has, in turn, had his lungs fill with fluid. It's all due to some gall stones (how that happened, I don't know), but he has to have his gall bladder removed. The surgery cannot take place until he is in a more stable condition. His body really couldn't handle the anesthesia at this point.

Yesterday, I was here for 5 hours with him. My mom asked me to spend the night here. I couldn't do it. Not because the accommodations aren't nice enough for me, but because I can barely handle seeing him like this. Am I a horrible daughter for not being able to stick it out here? My mom can do it...my brother can do it, why can't I? I walked into the room yesterday and could just barely hold it together. I had to go over to a corner where he couldn't see me and cry.

He's on so much morphine that he doesn't know what's going on. Yesterday he asked me where we were. It's horrible seeing someone that I once thought to be invincible in such a feeble state. As often as we disagree, I don't know what I would do without him.

2008-09-01T15:04:00.000-07:00

Wow! It's really been almost a month since I last blogged!

I am sitting here on Labor Day on my new couch with Penney at my side thinking about how F-ing hot it is outside. Man oh man, it's gross out there, it was mildly bearable this morning when BF and I headed to get some breakfast, but (as Texas usual) it's turned awfully hot. I am ready for the winter...or at least some rain. Can someone try and talk some sense into Gustav? See if he can get us a little rain up here?

For those of you that haven't yet figured it out, I work in the arts. I won't disclose where, but suffice to say, it doesn't matter where I work currently or have worked in the past, I make zilch for money. I recently asked for a raise (my first EVER request for such a thing). My year anni at my current job was August 13th. I was ecstatic, not because I have unbridled passion for what I do, but because I can't seem to stay put anywhere so a year somewhere is a big accomplishment for me. I figured I would give it a shot, why not?

Welllllll, after a couple of meetings I now know that I have to get my raise approved by 5 different people - it has to go all the way up to the person in charge. May I also add that I am not asking for much, I make shit...shit, I tell you, and when you ask for an extra 3.3% of more shit, it's not all that much shit. Anywho, so I requested a raise and am currently waiting for approval from our CFO - do we think it'll happen? Maybe...maybe not. We shall see, I guess.

I've pretty much worn this little sitch on my sleeve for a couple of weeks now so I hope to have some kind of answer in the next couple of weeks.

Other than that I am still settling in to the new place, I've been here for a month now and I love it. Except for one little thing, I am pretty sure that the people above me are not so secretly practicing for the musical Stomp. Man, are they noisy! It's a man and a woman and their dog. If they're not yelling at the dog, they're yelling at each other. I often wonder why the hell these two are togeths - who knows? Maybe it's foreplay. I have yet to hear them have sex though, all I hear is yelling, so if it is indeed foreplay, it's not working. There are a lot of new noises for Penners to get used to as well, so the first couple of weeks involved a lot of barking on her part, but she's since calmed down.

I am also anxiously trying to get my thesis wrapped up. Clearly not at this moment as I sit here and blog. I really just want it to be finished, plain and simple. Wish me luck, friends, as I may be out of pocket for a month or so...Cheers!

Feline Penners...

2008-08-01T14:41:00.000-07:00

This is Penney's kitty doppelganger....

MySpizzle

2008-08-01T12:44:00.000-07:00

I have been on the 'Space since about oh, I don't know, it's birth, and recently, I have been considering deleting my account. Deleting my MySpace would certainly be the end of an era, an e-abortion, if you will.

I've dated people off of MySpace (several actually), and had a relationship with one of my MySpace "victims" for almost two years. For the most part, MySpace has been kind, but I prefer a much more straightforward social networking site like the 'Book. I can log in to the 'Book and have all of the recent activity summarized right before my very eyes. I want it spelled out for me, people. When I log on to MySpace, I have to HUNT for new things, pictures, etc. - they have recently entered a feature much like the 'Book, but it falls very short. When I want to e-stalk people, I want results...immediately, I don't want to have to actually DO the e-stalking. Ridonkles...I tell you.

This is something I have been pondering for a few weeks now, but I can't bring myself to cut the cord, I just can't. It gives me access to friends, acquaintances, arch enemies, fair weather friends, exes, you name it...I like being to able to look without actually having to interact with someone...see what Joe Blow is up to from high school (other than blowing people), quietly snickering at the fact that he's got a wife, six kids and one hell of a mortgage, and I have remained youthful, am practicing something that I (at least at one point I THOUGHT) want to do, don't have any ball N' chain, no babies hanging from my (still perky) chesticles. I like being a voyeur in someone else's world...but is it really an excuse to stroke my ego, to tell me that these people are perpetuating traditions involving gender roles, working the 9-to-5 to pay the bills and kids tuition (I know, none of them are there...yet), cleaning the house and making pot roast for the 2.5 kids and Golder Retriever.

Nope, I am living the mother-fucking dream, bayyyybayyyyyyy! I answer to no one, other than Penners, who pretty much runs my life anyway. I have my own place (come Sunday) where I can leave my shit anywhere I want, eat whatever I want, sleep with whomever I want (read: BF ;) ), and really, do whatever I want. I live paycheck to paycheck, sure, I don't make anywhere close to a livable income, but it could be worse, I could be living in a much smaller tin-can than I am moving to. I don't have near the responsibility that more than half of the people I went to school with, and truthfully, I like it...I like my space (no, not MySpace, but my (possessive) physical space), I like being able to come home and take my clothes off and strut around in my skivvies and a tank top and each nachos. I don't HAVE to clean if I don't want to (although, anyone that knows me, knows that things certainly have their place...like my clean clothes...on the floor), I don't have to make time to go to marriage counseling, to cut up little Timmy's (read: Shitbag's) carrots because he hasn't yet realized how to hold utensils, to light my husband's pipe and fetch his slippers...

I, instead, must feed Penners, must not spill queso on my computer keyboard, must make sure to clean Penney's poop up from the yard, must make sure not to imbibe too much Negro Modelo when eating said queso, must make sure to make it to work by 9-ISH...nope, I am going places baby...eat your motherfucking heart out MySpace....I'm out.

Kitty CrumpleEar

2008-07-31T15:00:00.000-07:00

So, ladies and gents...I was on the phone with my mom a week or so ago and we were small-talking while she surfed the web and pretended to listen to me jibber-jabbering. She asked about her "grand-dog," and I proceeded to give her a guilt-trip asking if this was what it was going to be like if I had kids where Grandma's only concern is whether or not the "baby" is doing ok...not her stressed, basket-case of a REAL daughter. Anywho...

We talk about Penners ('cause that's what granny wants to talk about), and, out of nowhere, like it was taking her web page too long to load, so she needed to do something to pass the time, she asked me if she told me about Molly.* I screeched "Noooooooo!" and let her know that she hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. She then proceeded to tell me that Molly got a cyst on her ear and that she thought about taking her to the vet, but read up on it and that sometimes it's more painful to take the animal to the vet and get it drained. So, she tells me that he cyst has shrunk, but that her ear is all crumpled. Poor kitty. I asked her to send me a picture, and this is what I got...

Let's take a closer look:

Ignore the T2 eyes...Look at that poor, shriveled little thing. She may not be hurting, but her pride sure must be. If I had a mangled ear like that, I wouldn't leave the house...oh wait, she doesn't, because she's an inside cat, but still. My mom was horrifyingly nonchalant about the whole thing. Now, I must clarify...my mom LOVES animals, it's where I get my psychotic worship of animals from, which is why this was so nutters. She swears that she is OK, but in an effort to celebrate the life and times of the cat known heretofore as Miss Molly, I have RE-christened her "Kitty CrumpleEar" - from this moment, she should be referred to as such.

*Molly is the cat that my family got my sophomore year of high school. She LOVED me and now she hates me (read hisses, slaps, growls, hides) because of Penney. Evidently, I have broken little Princess Kitty's heart and it's turned black and cold with hatred for my dog, but more importantly me :(

Jorts - Redux!!!!

2008-07-25T07:15:00.000-07:00

[Oak Park, California; July 23. Image via x17]

I am aware that even celebrities aren't immune from bad fashion decisions...but really, Mark Wahlberg? Jorts?

Look! Even his rug-rat is crying due to the sheer embarrassment of being seen with one celeb dad with jean shorts on. I mean it's not the early 90s Mark, and I don't even think that I liked jorts in the early 90s anyway. Isn't wearing jorts like wearing fur or something?!!?!?

and don't even get me started on his tennies...with the jorts...jesus. I think I just threw up in my mouth a smidge.

Marilyn Minter

2008-07-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

As seen in Jezebel.com Marilyn Minter shot the newest cover of Time Out New York. Since I am kind of a purist, I can't be angry at someone who doesn't use Photoshop because "Minter is vehemently against artificial perfection."

Ophelia Chong!!!

2008-07-23T08:08:00.000-07:00

I happened across the work of Ophelia Chong through my usual workday surfing of the web in an effort to take the edge off (so to speak) and, suffice to say, I was instantly enchanted.

Ophelia is a Los-Angeles based artist working in art direction, and it certainly shows…she has an incredible feel for smart and pleasing design, not to mention some raging creativity. I emailed her about purchasing a work from her Slip of Paper series and received an amazingly kind and eager response. You see, I have dealt with a number of artists both professionally and personally, and it’s an absolute delight when I encounter someone who is talented, gracious, AND humble. She proposed a "swap" of sorts...if I spread the word, she would send me one of her collages - I enthusiastically accepted. One of the most important things for artists is to learn how to market yourself and your work and I found this concept to be absolutely ingenious!! It gets her work out there in the hands of interested people, and garners interest in areas where people may not have had any exposure.

Here is the work she sent me:

She has a wealth of work, all varied and all more intriguing than the last. My favorite, as I mentioned before (and from which the above pieces are from), is the Slip of Paper series, specifically the ones dealing with rather "famous" art historical imagery...see below.

Truth be told, I am a sucker for anything referring to Caspar David Friedrich, so that's what initially hooked me. But, her examination of works created by others, subsequent "appropriation," and then making them "fresh" is intriguing to me. She has an incredible feel for color and texture, she knows what works...what fits...and what can make something so interesting that it begs for your study. Knowledge of art history or not, these are gorgeous, plain and simple.

Another one of her series, much less serious, but, by no means, less interesting is her character Mister Pooh. An addition of one of these works would be PERFECT with my Delaney Jane You're the Shit drawing, would it not?!?!

I am a biiiiig fan of art that's not willing to be so serious, so debbie downer. Art that can be funny, but also revelatory is big on my list, and these Mister Pooh works make me laugh as well as reflect on popular culture imagery and the concept of potty humor...it's not just for kids anymore, is it?

Ophelia also works in graphic design and photography and each one of her works (whether in collage, photography, etc.) showcase her versatility and knowledge of media. She knows what she's doing and does it well...You're awesome, Ophelia!!!

2008-07-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

Will I always be the Lee to my Jackson?

Drawerment!

2008-07-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

Drawerment is a collection of drawers from old furniture/cabinets, etc. designed by Czech Republic-based Hubero Kororo Design Group. According to the website, the work invites others to find their own voice in it...Voice or no voice, it's incredible!! Details below...

Of course, with all the shit I own, it wouldn't look like that, it'd probably look like a flea market. It's oh-so Drawing I perspective exercise!!!!

"The Vert"

2008-07-09T16:07:00.000-07:00

I awoke from a rather restless night's sleep at about 6 am at BF's place. I stood up to go to the resty and started walking to the bathroom and felt drunk. I couldn't get my bearings and was walking like I was going to fall. I ended up having to brace myself with the kitchen counter on the way there. Once I got in the bathroom, I could not stop my head from swimming with dizziness. This was promptly followed by debilitating nausea and sweating. I called for BF to bring me water thinking that the two glasses of sangria I had last night* may have stuck with me for, I don't know, 12 hours. I ended up on the floor, a very typical quick-fix for a hangover...this did nothing. I felt like I couldn't help catch my balance and that my head was moving. I laid there for a bit and scooted my way back to bed on my back because being in any posish where my head wasn't straight made me feel like I was going to spew. So, I called my doctor, got an appointment. Fast forward to now, 12 hours later from my episode...I am still a little nauseous, still a little swimmy, but overall better. Come to find out from my doc, that was/am suffering from vertigo...

You see, I am not a motion sickness person, you can throw me on a boat pulsating with the tide, a car weaving in and out of traffic and I am fine, so this came as a total shock to me. But, from what I have read, it's not a motion sickness thing, it's an inner-ear disequilibrium thing which causes your body to react like it's falling or moving. The worst part of it lasted for about 2 1/2 hours, but it still lingers.

I called my mom with an update to let her know what the doc said and it was met with a "shit!" You see, my mom, has a little something called Ménière's disease. After more e-research, I found out that there are higher incidents of it with family members...the symptoms are characterized by: "Vertigo, often the most debilitating symptom of Ménière's disease, typically involves a whirling dizziness that forces the sufferer to lie down. Vertigo attacks can lead to severe nausea, vomiting, and sweating and often come with little or no warning.

Some individuals with Ménière's disease have attacks that start with tinnitus (ear noises), a loss of hearing, or a full feeling or pressure in the affected ear. It is important to remember that all of these symptoms are unpredictable. Typically, the attack is characterized by a combination of vertigo, tinnitus, and hearing loss lasting several hours...Others may be occasionally disturbed by intense, uncontrollable tinnitus while sleeping. Ménière's disease sufferers may also notice a hearing loss and feel unsteady all day long for prolonged periods. Other occasional symptoms of Ménière's disease include headaches, abdominal discomfort, and diarrhea. A person's hearing tends to recover between attacks but over time becomes worse."

-From The National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders, see:

http://www.nidcd.nih.gov/health/balance/meniere.asp

Ummm, check...check....annnnnnnd, check. What is funny is that last night, before bed, I made a comment to BF about how my hearing seems to be out-of-whack, that I cannot hear things like (I feel) I used to be able to.

Now, thanks to the internet, it's spawned a whole slew of self-diagnosers and hypochondriacs alike, all that think that they know what is wrong with them. I hope, hope, hope that I am not one of these people, but at the same time, I hope that it's not an actual indication that I may have what my mother has....sigh. What a stinker! But for now, I think I will rest my tired and loopy head, wish me luckers!!

*I know, I know, I am a total lightweight now!!

Sol.

2008-06-26T09:25:00.000-07:00

This blog, unfortch, is not about the beer Sol, but that ruthless center of our solar system.

I went on vacay almost three weeks ago - I went on a cruise with some fam - my mom, my aunt, uncle and some of their friends. The cruise went to the Bahamas, St. Thomas, and St. Maartin. Overall, I was worried before I left - I would be going with "adults" and always feel like I should be shoved off to the side to sit at the kids table. That's a subject for another blog...

I used to go to the tanning bed - A LOT. When I first moved up to DFW, I went and tanned every day. I was darrrrrk, so dark, that I often was mistaken for a handbag or occasionally a used leather boot. Anywho, my mom got the skin cancer and I cut out the tanning completely. It involved her having a surgical procedure that made her look a little bit like Sloth (from the Goonies) and a little bit like a creature from another world. This is all here say, however, considering that EVERY time she tried to show me post-op images, I almost threw up (just from the possibility of seeing them, I still have not) - there's a reason she's a nurse and I am not!

So, it seems that the past few times I have been somewhere tropical, I end up with these crazy bumps ALL OVER. I seem to remember the last time it happened my brother suggested pubic lice, but I don't think that's the case...wait, maybe it is, I did sign up to harvest pubic lice online!

So, I get these bumpies all over my body, well, not so much all over as anywhere that has seen the sun...which, as you well know is the majority, considering I don't exactly wear a wetsuit when out-of-doors. This previous time, I made the mistake of getting said bumps and then proceeding to lay out more...with tanning oil...for two days. This then turned these "bumps" into hideous boils of Black Plague proportions. I thought that this might be due to some kind of soap allergy, maybe a reaction to the oil, perhaps even Yahweh's way of showing me what a "sinner" I was, but never EVER was a prepared for the conclusion that I have come to...

After my recent cruise, I figured out that I, a devout sun-worshipper, am allergic to the sun!!! I don't need a dermatological genius to tell me this. It doesn't happen all the time, but does when I have prolonged exposure to really intense sun. Isn't that the point of vacay?!!? I even wore sunscreen. That did nothing to prevent me from my sun leprosy. It looks like I will have to adopt the body-suit thing as my skin can't seem to take the strong solar rays...

How do I look?

Gorgeous, right? I'll be one hot mess sporting this kaftan and matching head-wrap - it'll surely turn heads...

Flak photo

2008-06-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

As I have mentioned before, I have a weakness for photography and animals so today's Flak photo was a delightful surprise...

#7: Untitled, Chicago, Illinois, 1999

The photo is by Barbara Karant from her "Greyhounds" series - I always think that had I not adopted Penners, I would have rescued a Greyhound. The series is playful, gentle, and reveals the grace and regality that Greyhounds possess.

Not to mention - On her website it says: "In Barbara’s spare time she is passionately committed to working to educate the public on the marvels of living with the retired racing greyhound and actively involved with their placement and adoption through Greyhounds Only Inc."

You can't dislike an animal-lover!!

However, while I do like most of her other series, I don't really respond well to her "Architectonic Itinerations" - but hey, no one is perfect...

I wish I could wear this to the wedding this weekend...

2008-06-25T07:57:00.000-07:00

The dress is from the awesome line - Church and State, designed by Portland natives Nathaniel Crissman and Rachel Turk. Their clothes incorporate rather restrained Victorian elements like florals or ruffles, but they turn them on their head by combining them with clean, modern lines.

I like that it's a little girly...if you paired it with these...

I know they don't really go, but you run the risk of looking too matchy if you wear a neutral - I think. These are just what I need to spice it up. These Louboutins are actually no longer online through Neimans, but perhaps these might work for this fantasy outfit?

Dior's Extreme Cutout Sandal - $780 - YIKES!

Oh well, it's a fantasy outfit anyway, isn't it?

The Fall of (Wo)man

2008-06-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

I was looking at my calendar for the next few months and yikers does it blow a big one...

This month is almost over, but I am looking for a new place to live BY July 1st. It's not looking good, but the good news is, that I will still have a month to find a place sine my lease isn't up until August 1. I found the place that I thought I was going to live, the morning I called (a day and a half later, mind you), someone had already put a deposit down on it!! For realsies?!?!? Is that how it's going to be? Must I rent a place within 24 hours of seeing it?

We have a wedding to attend this Saturday, which I am always excited about. No, not because two people promise to spend the rest of their lives together, but because I get to dress up!! It's the simple things is seems.

Next month, BF has a week off, I am so excited for him, and July looks as if it might be slow, as will August considering that my bosses normally take time off then. I/We have no plans for July 4th - am I worried? Absolutely not, any time when I get a three day weekend calms me. Actually, I just remembered that a friend of mine is going to be in town this Sunday and Monday. He now lives in Oregon and is going to graduate school, so it will be nice to see him, even if he's crazy, but then again, so am I. I also have an appointment to get my mop chopped on Sunday as well, it desperately needs some shape. I curse the day that I got my hair cut short b/c that meant more maintenance, but, hey, I guess it could be worse.

August will be dead, but essentially, it's the calm before the storm. September and October bring an onslaught of events and things that I am supposed to attend. September 20th in Kerrville is my grandparent's 65th wedding anniversary party. This means that I will have to put on the "happy" face and field questions about how I bleed my father dry (which I do not) and how I am not married or with child. May I also point out, that I am neither married NOR divorced which seems to be an unofficial family tradition. The following weekend is my friend Charlotte's wedding in Kerrville as well. I got to know Char when she moved into my duplex in college - I needed a roomie and Jacqueline suggested Char. She moved in and became fast friends. We had SATC marathons and "craft time." We celebrated bdays together, etc. So she and her sweet-pea, Will, are tying the knot on Sept 27th. The FOLLOWING weekend is my current roomie Natalie's wedding in Austin. It will be a veritable Hill Country Tour 2008 by the time I get to mid-October. Not to mention, October is also the month of my 10 year high school reunion ANNND work's annual Charity Auction extravaganza - both at the same time. This charity auction requires me to dress up and cater to the needs of the rich and famous (read Stanley Tucci, Kenneth Cole, etc. and our rich-as-fuck trustees/donors).

I have not yet decided whether or not I will attend the 'ole 10 year thing. Do I really want to see all of those people? I mean, truly, it's just an excuse to go, hang out with my current friends, and most assuredly make fun of others. I know, it's mean-spirited, but it certainly helps pass the (excruciating) time. Sure, my job SOUNDS prestigious - I work in the arts, at a relatively major Texas institution, but I work for peanuts, plain and simple. I have gotten to meet some awesome artists and work on some great stuff, but there are people working in investment banking making at least 4 times what I make - life is good isn't it?!?! Sometimes I weigh the positives and negatives of the job...needless to say, I go through a period of about 7 days out of each month where I decide that I need to change fields. To what, you say?? Fuck if I know.

Anywho, the Fall of 2008 looks to be absolutely nutters, and I am already stressing about it. Good times.

Shoesies...

2008-06-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

God, I saw these Prada boot thangs at Barney's on sale and now they're no longer on there...I have officially slipped into a deep depression. That doesn't mean that I was going to buy them, but I did want to admire them from financially afar. The ONLY example I found are black and gold, but imagine these in solid black...YOWZA!

Granted, these just barely make up for the virtually unforgivable things that both Prada and Miu Miu did with heels this year....just BARELY!

Both are Spring 2008 RTW - first and third are Prada, second is Miu Miu - hello, early 90s ugly!!