Smell it!

Yesterday I was surprised at work by Chuckles accompanied by my big sis and my two nephews for lunch! Totally made my day. We went to a nearby brewery where we proceeded to laugh it up at Matthew’s silly faces and grunts. Seriously, those kids never ever cry – it’s so unfair because that can only mean that one day when I have kids they will be the spawn of Beelzebub, but that’s another story for another day.

Jared, who’s four, was eating extremely slowly, even slower than me, which, I assure you, is no small feat. Considering I did have to get back to work I tried to make it into a game with him in an attempt to speed it up. I informed him that I was totally going to finish eating before him to which he scoffed, “Yeah, right, you have like waaaayyy more food on your plate.” Since he didn’t fall for that one…I tried another tactic:

Me: “My bites are sooooo much bigger than yours.”

Jared: “Yeah? Well, I can take super tiny bites. So there!”

He did not fall for any of my tricks what he did fall for though was his mom saying he wouldn’t get any Oreos if he didn’t hurry up and eat his sandwich. Note to self: Bribery always works.

On the way home I sat between the two car seats thereby giving me the perfect position to have a serious conversation with Jared. He had his mitten with him and demanded that I smell the inside of it:

Jared: “Smell it!”

Me: “No, YOU smell it!”

Jared: “No, YOU!”

Me: “YOU!” (I often revert to childish behavior when I am around Jared, we could go on forever like this.)

To my surprise Jared gave in quickly and sniffed the inside of his mitten and announced to the whole car, “It smells GREAT!”

Me: “I have a really hard time believing that…”

Jared: “It does. Smell it. NOW. Smell it. Do it.”

Well, I can’t stand up to that kind of peer pressure so I had to smell it. After I gave it a quick sniff Jared quite eagerly inquired, “Do you like it?” Strange kid I know, but I have to admit it wasn’t so bad.

Are your minds as dirty as mine is?

Thankfully, the snow if finally melting around here and I am able to get around with out getting stuck any time I stray from the main roads. Unfortunately, this snow has meant that I have had to dress “practically” ever since I got back from vacation.

I am not very good at this whole “practical” thing. For example, two years ago I flew to Boston to visit my best friend and celebrate St. Patrick’s day in true Boston fashion and all I brought with me footwear wise was two pairs of high heels and NO socks and it was blizzard conditions when I flew in. Of course, I solved this by buying festive pair of socks with shamrocks to wear with my heels.

What I’m getting at is that I have been dying to wear something other than my stupid tennis shoes (I don’t own appropriate snow boots) and I had finally had it on Christmas Eve. I informed Chuckles that I wasn’t going to let this God. Damn. weather control my life and I was going to wear my cute new booties on Christmas.

Aren’t they cute?! No matter because Chuckles said that he would not spend Christmas with me if I insisted on being a fool and trying my best to break a leg. Also, he said I would have to go to my parents by myself and when they asked where he was I would have to inform them that he refused to join me since I insisted on wearing heels then who would be the FOOL?! I would. Of course, it became a moot point when we woke up to even more snow Christmas morning. I have yet to wear my darling new shoes. Tragic, I know.

The other tragedy was that I got a new game for my birthday called Dirty Minds (I have no idea why anybody would think of me when they see a game called Dirty Minds) and at first I had decided to bring it over for Christmas to test it out…and then I opened it and saw some example questions. Here’s one so you get an idea of what it is. You get three clues and the answer is always clean:

You stick your poles in me.

You tie me down to get me up.

I get wet before you do.

Answer: TENT

After reading some of these I decided I might not be comfortable playing this with my mom and dad. But I can play with you guys!! So here are some for you all to guess what the answer is

I’m a four letter word.

I’m a name for a woman

I end in u-n-t.

If you think the answer is the C-word then you are a dirty dirty birdie.

I get laid in an alley.

I often end up in the middle of your split.

When you slip your fingers in me, I’m ready to roll.

Does anybody have any guesses?

Were you worried?

I’m back internets!! We have so much catching up to do. I promise I have a good excuse for my absence and I apologize if your uncontrollable sobbing is annoying those around you – it can stop now because I’m back! I was absent last week for a much needed vacay.

Chuckles and I went down to the Oregon coast, which was just lovely, freezing, but lovely. We pretty much had the town to ourselves…and we ate ourselves into a food coma. We also watched the Seattle news every day keeping our fingers crossed that we were missing the worst of it. Unfortunately, on the day we were supposed to leave we woke up to three inches of snow on the beach. ON THE BEACH. When does that ever happen?!

As we were checking out another guest came in the inn and informed us that if we were intending to use 101 on our way out of town not to bother because they had closed it. Well, 101 just happens to be the only road out of town, so, YES, we were planning on taking it. Just for shits and giggles we decided to drive into town and see if we could wait it out…but we couldn’t really make it out of the parking lot. So we turned around and waited an hour and tried again.

We only had to make it eight miles to Seaside where we could get chains and it would be easy going from there…except Seaside was sold out of chains. No worries though, we made it home without incident; that is if you don’t count the crazy lady at Les Schwab in Seaside screaming at anybody who listen, “I HAVE TO OPEN A STORE IN CANNON BEACH! I HAVE LIVED HERE 30 YEARS AND THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE! I CAN’T AFFORD NEW TIRES! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M MADE OF MONEY?!” Yep, crazy.

Anyway, that is why I have been absent from the blogging world, that and last weekend I was busy being the champion of my fantasy football league. That’s right – CHAMPION.

Oh, plus all this God. Damn. Snow has me leaving the house as little as possible and with another snow storm coming tonight I doubt I’ll be in the office any time soon and when I’m stuck at home instead of blogging I read vampire books. It’s not that you guys aren’t entertaining, you are, it’s just that, well, you aren’t vampires…at least not to my knowledge.

Oh, and thanks for all the birthday wishes! My birthday was fine despite being stuck in the house for the most part. I did yell at Chuckles till he agreed to drive me to my parents for dinner and then when he got mad at me I told him that was forbidden on my birthday. I think he really enjoyed it.

Join in my pity party

I came to a realization yesterday – I hate my birthday. To be more exact I hate the actual date, I would love my birthday if it was on any other day. My birthday is four days before Christmas and it doesn’t help that my brother’s is the day after Christmas.

In the past I have always swore up and down that it in no way bothered me that I had a birthday so close to Christmas, but the fact of the matter is I was in deep denial.

Even on my 21st birthday I claimed not to be upset about it despite the fact that instead of spending it getting drunk with a gaggle of my friends I was stuck taking a physical chemistry final at 7 o’crotch on the Friday night of finals week and all but two of my friends had all gone home for the holidays. Although, I did manage to thoroughly embarrass myself at my family dinner the next night, but that’s a story for another time.

I can literally count on one hand the number of enjoyable birthdays I’ve had since I’ve grown up and stopped asking for dolls every year. The problem is everybody always has plans or are just too busy to worship me for a night.

I wouldn’t mind so much if I didn’t absolutely LOVE my birthday! I love being the center of attention and getting free drinks and really any excuse to get my groove on. Is that so wrong?

This year my best friend will still be in bean town and I have a horrible feeling that everybody else already has plans. I’m tempted to stay home and pout, but instead I think I’ll man up and force my sister to watch every Christmas movie ever made with me (I haven’t told her of this plan yet, but the way I see it is it’s my birthday and people have to do what I tell them). Plus maybe that’s a better idea than making a spectacle of myself on the dance floor anyways. Meanwhile I’m buying myself a purty new dress to cheer me up.

The More You Know

I have a message for the snotty girl in my accounting class who thinks she’s all that. Don’t ever EVER wear boots over baggy jeans. If you are going to wear boots over jeans they have to be SKINNY. Also, while we’re on the subject, they should be knee high boots not tight mid calf boots. If you insist on wearing mid calf boots over your jeans that at least make them slouchy boots. I would also like to request that when you walk by me to go get your nasty soup that makes the entire room stink that you don’t give me that up and down stare like I’m the freak show here. I will have you know that my lace tights are quite stylish and I have gotten many compliments on them. Oh, and just one last thing, stop wearing scrunchies.

I am a Scrabble God! Bow down.

I am on a roll! Yesterday Chuckles told me that it is not polite to talk about how smart I am, but I figure this is my blog and I can do whatever the hell I want on it and today I want to talk about how smart I am. If you don’t like it you can suck it! HA!

I bring this up because I came to the realization yesterday that I am unbeatable at Scrabble. Unbeatable. In other words, I am a Scrabble God. Chuckles kindly pointed out that he has defeated me before, but I have honed my skills and, well, I’ve just gotten so good that I almost feel bad for my opponents. The key word there is almost. I continue to be a horrible winner and gloat.

Not only am I kicking ass at Scrabble, but I am also kicking butt on my marketing project. Remember how I was being a whiny bitch a couple months back because I had this long project and I was all nervous about my group? Of course you remember. Silly me. Well, I won’t go into to many details about the project because I don’t want to bore you to death, but, in the end, the only thing that matters is who has the highest stock price. At this point nobody can come close to catching us. Do you see now how I’m a genius? Well, that and I managed to get a cool group. Also, that guy that was driving me NUTSO is doing horribly. It makes me laugh. Who knew class could actually be fun?

Also, my fantasy football team made a miraculous comeback thanks to Matt Cassel and Steve Slaton and I’m in the playoffs! YAY! I just have to beat my little bro this weekend to stay in. Keep your fingers crossed!

Thanksgiving

I’m a bit late with my Thanksgiving post, but I was really busy yesterday. Really I was just busy stressing out as opposed to actually crossing anything off my to do list, but what’s new?! Haha, I’m a stressball. Yay! Fun times.

Anyway, I had a rather uneventful Thanksgiving, which was quite relaxing. It was just the usual: sitting around watching the Seahawks lose, drinking wine, laughing at my nephews, eating a lot, and regretting not wearing a more forgiving dress.

It was a nice change from the previous Thanksgiving, which was fun – don’t get me wrong! There was just a slight problem with the dessert. A week prior to Thanksgiving my mom had to have surgery on her back, surgery that meant that for the next couple months or so she wasn’t allowed to move her neck. Meaning my dad, big sis, and I were in charge of the Thanksgiving feast. My dad was in charge of the turkey and stuffing and my sister and I did the sides and we each made a dessert.

Oh, and did I mention my parents had just finished remodeling their kitchen? With a new fancy oven? Well, they did. (Ultimately, this will be a lame story because it takes too long to explain the back story, but I won’t let that stop me!)

Soooo, my sis made a chocolate pie and I made an apple crostata that according to the recipe HAD to be served right out of the oven. So my plan was to put it in the oven after dinner and it being ready would surely coincide with everybody being ready to eat dessert. Of course, my plans did not incorporate a three year old boy who wanted his chocolate pie RIGHT NOW DAMNIT! As a result, my sister and I would alternate looking into the oven to see if the crostata was ready.

Unfortunately, the fancy new oven had this weird touch screen thing and the oven light was stubborn and you had to press really hard on it AND it was right next to the oven cleaner button. So, someone, I won’t name names, but I will tell you that her initials are E.M. and she is quite fond of bossing me around and has an unnatural fear of E.T., pressed the oven cleaner button. This caused the door to self lock and the temperature of the oven to skyrocket. We did manage to get the crostata out of the oven before it burnt, but, unfortunately, it tasted a lot like what I imagine chemicals taste like. Yummy.

This year I just brought the salad (much easier) and I made sure not to tell anyone that the impatient four year old boy ate half of a walnut and then spit it out in the salad proclaiming it “yucky” until after everybody had eaten their share.

Tips to Beat Holiday Stress

I saw an article this morning on MSN titled Tips to Beat Holiday Stress. I, of course, clicked on it hoping to be given the secret to getting everything done in time without going apeshit at any point (I’m looking for a legal solution here. – no crack cocaine for this girl). I am always stressed around the holiday season. I most likely get it from my mom either that or I ask way too much of myself during the holidays.

I love Christmas, LOVE IT, but there’re certain things that make Christmas perfect like tons and tons of Christmas cookies, the perfect gift for everybody, and the biggest bestest birthday bash for yours truly. So not only do I have tons of shopping, baking, and, planning to do, but I also have finals to contend with…oh and I’ll be out of town two of the weekends prior to Christmas, but my mom has told me I am not allowed to complain about that.

Anyway, my point is how could I not click on this article? I admit I was hoping for a miracle solution…like maybe they knew how Zach Morris was able to stop time on Saved By The Bell. Let me tell you if I had that power I would not spend that precious time talking to the camera that follows me around all the time.

This article was quite the letdown though – it spent most of the time telling me why I’m stressed, really, though, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that one out. But there were hardly any tips, as I skimmed it I saw only one: have a potluck instead of cooking the whole dinner by yourself. Are you kidding me?! You do NOT want to get me started about how much I hate hate hate potlucks. So, since this article was so completely the opposite of helpful I thought I would come up with some tips of my own to help people out that might be in the same predicament that I am in, aka easily overwhelmed.

First: Drink a lot. As Homer says, “It is the solution to all of life’s problems…and the cause.” Just ignore that last part. It really helps if you have to go to that company Christmas party (just be sure to leave before you feel like it would be appropriate for you to start removing items of clothing). It improves your acting ability when having to pretend you like a present: “Wow, this is the PERFECT nightgown! I couldn’t have found a more PERFECT one!” I might overdo it sometimes. Or it might decrease your acting ability, but don’t worry that just increases other people’s enjoyment. It also allows you to pass out when family drama gets beyond the point of entertaining.

Second: Hit someone. Preferably somebody that can’t hit back, because having a black eye is not good for de-stressing – it only works when giving them to somebody else.

Third: Call in sick for the company Christmas party. Or if you’re like me, lie and say you’ll be out of town (technically, I will be out of town that day…I’ll just be back in time for the party, but they don’t need to know that!) Or if you’re one of those lucky people who likes their coworkers then go to the party and follow my first tip.

Fourth: Temporarily become bulimic. Who has time to workout during the three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas? Plus, what kind of person are you if you actually stick to your diet…no friend of mine that’s for sure. So I say just throw up in between meals. What?! It’s only temporary!

That’s all I’ve got. I could really use some more tips though so that I don’t lose my sanity – How do you keep your marbles intact?

Fuck, Marry, or Kill

Ok people we’re going to try this again. Last time I made the mistaken assumption that everybody knows how to play this game because how else do you waste your time when you’re waiting in line at the all you can eat buffet? So here’s how the game works: you are given the names of three people and you have to choose which one you want to fuck, which one you want to marry (it’s a sexless marriage by the way), and which one you would like to brutally kill. Oh, and you HAVE to choose. You can’t be all, “I can’t decide they’re all so hot!” or “I would kill myself before I fucked any of them!” No, no, those are not options. This week is the James Bond version. Girls, you have three James Bonds to make your decision:

Personally, I would fuck Daniel Craig because he’s got one hot bod. I love me some Pierce Brosnan so he’ll be my future hubby. And while I love Sean Connery’s accent and the way he treats Alex Trebek I’m going to have to kill him.

Boys, here’s your choice of Bond girls chosen solely on how ridiculous their names are:

Pussy Galore

Octopussy:

And the only Bond girl James Bond himself married:

I hate Bella. I should be in her place.

I was nervous about my book club at first – I thought it would fail pretty quickly, but it’s been going pretty well. We read a good combination of different books: old classics, modern fiction, non-fiction. Every month the host of that book club chooses the next book.

The last host chose Twilight - a good easy to read no-brainer. At first, I was excited. I bought the book, but haven’t found the time to pick it up and read it despite the fact that I’ve heard nothing but good things about it. I figured having it as a book club book would motivate me.

However, ever since the book was actually chosen I have started hearing not so great things, like how cheesy the writing is. If there is one thing that will make me hate a book it is cheestastic writing and clichés galore. So now I’m all nervous that I will despise it and I truly want to enjoy it!

This morning on my way to work the radio station I listen to was interviewing the “two biggest fans of Twilight on the west coast”. They were two high school age girls and they were certifiably crazy about Twilight.

In this interview I was lucky enough to hear first hand the cheesy writing as the host was doing “dramatic readings” of it. These girls kept talking about how perfect Edward was and how they loved the books because they themselves were falling in love with Edward.

The fact that Edwards is “perfect” also bothers me. How is that romantic? It’s easy to love somebody who always does and says the right thing. What happened to loving somebody for their imperfections? These poor teenage girls are convinced that the perfect man/vampire is waiting for them somewhere. He just isn’t in Kent…which is, I guess, a valid point.

It turns out that, funnily enough, these girls were studying Romeo and Juliet in their English class, but, COME ON, that is nowhere near as romantic as Edward and Bella! I think that’s what had me convinced these girls had lost their minds. Maybe if they saw the movie with Leo they would understand the romance behind it…

Despite my reservations regarding this book I am still going to give it a fair chance. I’m going to attempt to forget all those pesky realities about how Bella could never be truly happy with Edward because I mean, really, how is that going to work when she’s forty and he’s still seventeen? Truthfully, chances are I’ll love it. Deep down I am a hopeless romantic…and I will probably agree with the obsessed girls that Bella’s a loser and I should be the one with Edward. On the other hand at the age of sixteen I very passionately hated Titanic so I am proud to say I do not succumb to all things “romantic”.

I thank God every day I'm not a moron

On my way to class on Wednesday night I overheard a very fascinating conversation. There were three girls walking ahead of me and one of them was probably around seven months pregnant and was asking her friends if they thought she could just use her dog clothes as a substitute for baby clothes. You see that way she wouldn’t have to go shopping for baby clothes. Her friends seemed to think it was a good idea. One of them pointed out that it might constrict the baby's movement some, but, hey, it's not like the baby is moving around a lot or anything. It sounds to me like she was really prepared for how her life was about to change in just a few months.

Who knew? I CAN O.D. on caffeine

I met with my marketing group yesterday after work at a coffee shop in Bellevue. Of course, first order of business when I got there was to order a coffee – I went with my usual mocha with extra shots and NO WHIP. God, I hate whip cream.

I had this friend growing up who was always shooting that stuff straight into her mouth and every time she did it I threw up a little in my mouth. Shudder.

I am extremely picky when it comes to my coffee – I attribute this to my six years of working as a barista through high school and college. First of all, if I see the espresso shots have been sitting for too long without being mixed with milk I’ll tell them to throw them out. Unless the person looks sketchy and might pee in my drink when I’m distracted by the annoying high school girls with their high pitched voices whining about that skanky hoe not inviting them to that party last Friday night, but a bad coffee drink can ruin my day – I must take steps to protect it even if that means taking a slight risk of bodily fluids making their way into my precious drink.

My other problem is people have been known to forget the all important extra shot which, believe me, is a tragedy for it makes the drink much to sweet. I am also one of those people who like extra foam on their mocha. First, it also lowers the sweetness factor and second, it keeps the mocha from exploding out of the lid, which has happened all too often to me on days when I happen to be wearing an especially cute sweater.

Anyway, I’m sure you were all dying to know exactly how I like my mocha…but what I was going to say before I got sidetracked is that I really didn’t need those extra three shots of espresso yesterday after work. Our meeting lasted a little over two hours, but since Seattle traffic is such a little bitch I still managed to get stuck in rush hour on the way home in the middle of a “November storm” (that’s what the news kept calling it, not much a storm if you ask me…but I guess the people who are preparing for floods would disagree with me).

The point is that it wasn’t really the greatest for me to be driving in that kind of traffic while having a heart attack. You read that right - I swear to you I was having a heart attack on my way home. If not a heart attack then my heart was at least skipping beats and there was chest pain involved.

My theory is that the three shots I had after already ingesting my normal amount of caffeine for the day (a morning coffee, black tea, pop) was just too much caffeine for me, which I really did not think was possible. I thought caffeine no longer had any effect on me…except for the lack of it causing a headache that feels like people having a party in my skull with jackhammers. Hopefully this lesson stays with me for a while…at least until tonight when I have to go to school and I am once again tempted to drink coffee – there is going to be a guest speaker tonight, which is never good for my attention span.

Sometimes I can be such a scaredy-cat

I am just racked with insecurities today. Man do I hate those days. I know I complain about this a lot, but as I told Chuckles earlier I really do hate not having time to workout and as he said I would have to quit work or school to make time for it so I will just have to survive for now with my once a week workout routine.

I was doing pretty good this summer and ran my first 5K in September and did pretty well according to my standards. My goal when I signed up for the race was to finish in under thirty minutes and I finished at thirty one minutes – close enough for me! Also, I was 74th out of about 2,800 in my division.

I am running my second 5K this weekend, but this one is a little different and I haven’t been running nearly as much as I was this summer. On top of that I’m part of a team with two other girls who work out every day. Then there’s me who’s lucky to get in fifteen minutes of yoga a week. It is quite frustrating.

My teammates are very sweet and have assured me that they are in no way serious about this and we can run at whatever pace we want, but on this typical Monday I am just feeling slightly nervous about it.

Also, there are obstacles in the course. What kind of obstacles we won’t know til we show up. At least one of my teammates refuses to get dirty so it should be interesting what with me being a slowpoke and our team refusing to participate in obstacles. Chuckles is excited – he thinks it will be quite entertaining for him to watch.

I am also feeling insecure about school. Nothing new there right? We start our project tonight and I am not really prepared. I have this problem where once I’ve finished with my midterms I decide that I deserve a break and next thing I know I’m behind in all my classes and have more tests approaching.

Yesterday morning I downloaded the handbook that we are supposed to have read prior to tonight only to discover that it was 150 pages and I had homework due on the reading in two hours. I think that is also the point yesterday when I yelled at Chuckles and he left to have lunch with his dad as opposed to being around my toxic self. Anyway, I’m sure my group will manage. It is a game and we will be competing with other groups in the class so I hope I can restrain myself and not let my competitive side take over.

After class there is going to be a study abroad fair and there is a class during the intersession that is in the Dolomites in Italy that I desperately want to take and yet I keep talking myself out of it. So many excuses: it costs too much money, I can’t take that much time off work, it’s precious time spent taking a class I don’t need to graduate. It is a class based on emotional intelligence, which I know some people think is bullshit, but I have heard only good things about this class and I have always been desperate to see Italy. Ever since I was thirteen and read Beach Music by Pat Conroy (I know…cheesy, but I was an impressionable teenager) I have been dying to go to Italy and I have always regretted not studying abroad as an undergrad. So part of me wants to go, but part of me is scared to go hiking through a foreign country with strangers where we talk about our feelings. Just writing that out made me think Hells no, I am not going. But then every email I get from the professor has this quote at the bottom:

"You will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in you sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

I know I would be disappointed if I didn’t go. Hopefully, at the end of class I won’t be feeling too lazy or too anxious and I will stop and get more details.

Spreading the Love

Supposedly there were streets all over Seattle that were flooded this morning (I say supposedly because I did not in fact witness these “flooded streets”, but if Mr. RadioMan says they’re out there I’ll believe him) making for a not very fun Friday morning commute. Not that morning commutes are ever fun, but Friday mornings ones usually rank above average in the sense that I don’t search through the glove box in the hopes that this is the morning I remembered to bring that box of razors.

Basically every street was completely gridlocked and you know when that happens you’re lucky when people don’t block the intersection. Well, this morning as I was waiting to turn right onto one of these backed up streets two cars had pulled up and blocked the crosswalk and some lady, who was waiting to cross the street (and I might add at first seemed totally normal) stepped up to one of the cars and started banging on the passenger side window and screaming, “You’re blocking the DAMN crosswalk you JERKFACE!” Then she kicked the tire for good measure. Then she walked up to the next car, also blocking the crosswalk, and banged on the trunk and yelled at him too.

I don’t know about you…but I’m thinking that was a bit of an overreaction, it’s not like she was unable to get to the other side of the street. Nobody came close to running over her. In my book, that is called “success”. I mean most of the time when I cross the street I come very close to getting run over. In fact, just the other day when I was walking to school I was only one millisecond from being smashed by a red sports car – so, yeah, this lady has issues.

Anycrap, I just felt the need to share that with everyone. But what I’m really here to do is pass on an award. A while ago Jamie at Oh! How Lovely! gave me an award! So Sexciting! It’s a cute award too - just look at it:

Now I get to pass this beauty on to five other deserving bloggers. I decided to share it with some bloggers I only recently started reading…I’m sure everybody else in the blogger world is way ahead of me, but I’m slow so give me a break. So here they are:

Losing It – She’s quite funny and snarky. I have quite the little blog crush on her.

Love Maegan – We have a lot in common – same name, she has a pug and I would give my right ovary to have a pug of my own, we both like fashion. Really the only difference is she’s a hot blonde and I am, well, not.

Genius Pending – He’s pretty much the only other Seattle blogger I know of and he’s funny and he lets me leave offensive comments about setting the elderly on fire and returns the favor by leaving offensive comments here and, well, I think it’s pretty damn funny.

Arjewtino – I learn a lot from him. I mean just the other day I learned that if you search for “Lose your virginity to a dog” you get a lot of results. Yep, very informative.

Stoogepie – So I’ve been reading his blog for a while, but, come on, he writes naughty comics. Emphasis on the naughty.

So that’s that. I hope everybody has a fan-fucking-tastic weekend!

What a relief!

Thank God that ended well! Am I right or am I right? I have to say that is the first time I voted for a winner. YAY ME! As I shared with you yesterday, and I know you were all sorts of jealous, I hung with the fam last night and we watched the results together.

When I got there after a hellish commute my big sis with her two little boys was already there and those boys were well on their way to creating havoc. That’s not completely true. But what is true is that when my mom asked Jared what kind of pizza he wanted he forcefully replied, “COOKIE!” Unfortunately, we were never able to convince him that there was no such thing as a “cookie pizza” regardless of how unbelievably cool that would be, so, needless to say, he was quite disappointed when the pizza came and there were no cookies on it as toppings. Travesty!

After we had chowed down on plenty of cheesy pizza and had plenty of delicious wine we started our game of election night bingo. It had typical sayings on it: voter turnout, concession speech, absentee ballots. Unfortunately, we were watching some of the Daily Show because the graphics on NBC scared us and Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert were talking about…well, not voter turnout. At one point (don’t ask me why) the phrase “Giant Shit Burger” was uttered. This caused my dad to scour his card only to find that it was nowhere to be found. We were not happy with that blatant oversight.

Also, I don’t think my mom really put a lot of thought into how last night would play out in terms of playing a game with my dad, my sister, and I. You see the three of us are extremely competitive and every time somebody would say a phrase that was somewhat close to one on our cards she would want to mark it off and all three of us would yell at her, “It’s not exact! It has to be the exact phrase.” I think at one point or possibly multiple times (I can’t really remember…blame it on the wine) I accused my mom of cheating. She did win after all. I would have more vehemently protested, but she was nice and shared the prize: a box of mint frangos. Nummy.

Later after we decided we’d stayed too late and couldn’t wait any longer for Obama’s speech my sis went to wake the boys and we gathered our stuff together. When she got downstairs she asked Jared which parent he wanted to go home with and he just kept staring at me causing us all to think he was on the brink of saying Auntie Megan! Which would have been the wrong answer…despite that we considered it for a second. Simply because it would have been funny for me to show up at home: Look, honey! I won election night bingo and the prize was a four year old boy. I wonder if he does any tricks.

I did my part. DID YOU DO YOURS?

I voted this morning. I was a good citizen. I was a bit freaked out last week because I thought I wouldn’t be able to vote. You see I am still registered at my parent’s house and I am supposed to be a “permanent absentee” voter, but they never received my absentee ballot. Then when I searched to see if I was still registered there King County had the gall to say I wasn’t registered at all. Wha???? It’s not like I haven’t voted before. PLUS I was active in the caucus and King County said I was registered then. I smelled something fishy. So I called them yesterday and for some unknown reason my voter status had been changed to “inactive”, but they said I could still vote. Wheee!!

So early this morning I headed to my voting place to find there was zero parking. After driving around a while I caught somebody leaving and was able to steal their spot. I headed on in to find the voting room filled to the brim – there was absolutely no room to move. None. Zilch. I was somewhat confused as to why they had it in this tiny little meeting room when in the past the voting was done in the junior high’s library. I guess they heard the voter turnout would be smaller this year? I don’t think Kenmore is very smart. Maybe that’s why we’re called Kenmorons…I went to the democratic caucus and they were far from prepared for that too. That was in the junior high cafeteria and people were so crowded together I have no doubt that is was a fire hazard. It was unbearably hot and nobody could hear you talk. Any time somebody had something to say they had to stand on top of a table and scream. Yep, not prepared at all.

Anycrap, I was finally able to get in line and, luckily for me, some crazy lady got in line right behind me. She was quite dressed up in a Christmas turtleneck and baggy sweatpants. She was also quite creepster in her insistence to speak to every small child there. You wouldn’t think there’d be a lot of small children, but, believe me, there were. In front of me was a mom with her ten year old daughter and her daughter was telling her how she thought that voting meant putting a candidate’s name on a piece of paper and putting it in a box. Creepster lady interjected here to say, excruciatingly slowly, “Well, little girl, that would work in a small election, but with millions and millions of people that would take a long time to count. Don’t you think?” It was unbearably condescending. I wanted to turn around and say she’s a kid, not retarded, but I thought that might be construed as offensive. To another little boy there she kept saying to him, “I bet you could walk right under that table! Walk under the table! Walk under it! Walk under the table!” Oh dear God, it was intolerable.

But I am happy to report that I survived without hurting creepy lady and am now at work anxiously watching the minutes tick by as I wait for the day to end so I can plop myself in front of the TV hooked to the results. I’m going to watch the coverage with my parents while we chow down on pizza and drink wine and play an exciting game of election night bingo that my very cool mom has put together for us.

What do you think you're doing?!

I am one of those crazies who talk in their sleep and have real conversations with people. For the most part Chuckles finds this amusing…except of course when I yell at him, which is what happens, oh, I don’t know, maybe 99% of the time.

Usually what happens is after I have fallen into a deep sleep, which takes me all of five seconds, Chuckles will move slightly and I will respond by doing one of two things. I will either shout at him, “What do you think you’re doing?!” to which he responds, “NOTHING!” You know it really isn’t nice of me to yell at him for nothing and yet I continue to yell at him – usually some lecture about how lying is bad and how don’t think for a second I believe him and his “nothing” excuse…oh yeah, he’s up to something.

Or I’ll see something that isn’t there. Sometimes it’s a bug, which I will insist is there, and I either have to get up and get a closer look or Chuckles needs to get up and KILL IT NOW. Don’t ever question me when this happens because it will just get me unnecessarily upset. Just let me look at it. Chuckles doesn’t understand this. He has to insist that I’m dreaming. If he would just let me turn the light on I would figure it out for myself. Instead it always ends in an argument because apparently people who are trying to sleep don’t like having the light on. Losers.

Or I’ll see somebody else in the room and will scream bloody murder and hurry to use Chuckles as a barrier for the knife stabbing that is imminent. Instead of comforting me he just pushes me away telling me to keep quiet, but to his credit I do do this a lot. Then there was the time I thought there was another girl in bed with us. That was NOT PRETTY. That started with my usual question: “What do you think you’re doing?” Chuckles insisted I was sleeping which just pissed me off more. Unfortunately, it didn’t help that Chuckles was laughing the whole time saying things like, “There’s another girl in the bed? Where? How could I be unaware of this? Is she hot?” So I forced to yell at him, “This is NOT a laughing matter do you WANT to get kicked in the balls?” I think he was laughing too hard to hear me though.

It’s always an adventure going to bed with me – not in that way you dirty dirty birdies – I mean you never know what I will do in the middle of the night. Sometimes we’ll get into long conversations which leave me extremely frustrated because Chuckles always has no idea what I’m talking about and those conversations always end with my yelling at him to stop pretending he doesn’t know what I’m talking about and to stop acting so stupid, you stupid dummy.

But, if you ask me, none of this compares to my little brother who has been known to get up in the middle of the night and take down all the pictures and put them all in the bathroom. Yeah, I know. He’s a real Crazy.

Game time!!

I know I have talked a lot of shit about my job in the past year or so, but there are some very good aspects of it. Sure there are a couple people here who make me cringe on a daily basis with their crazy antics, but there are also a couple people who are genuinely nice and sweet and I really couldn’t say anything bad about them if I tried.

I called in sick yesterday because my stomach hates me and I also called in sick last Tuesday because stress had gotten the better of me and I pretty much lost my mind. So that’s two Tuesdays in a row that I called in sick.

At my last job that would have warranted a call to the President’s office and a good talking to and maybe a warning that if it happened again to pack up my desk.

Because of this I was 100% ready to be called into the CFO’s office to be told that that was unacceptable and I had my reasoning all ready to go. But, surprises of surprises, that didn’t happen! Instead, people are actually asking me if I’m feeling better and nobody is telling me I need to work overtime to make up for my time away. It’s so amazing to work with people who actually believe you when you call in to say your stomach is attacking itself in a horrible form of self destruction.

Anyways, enough about that now it’s time for a little game I call “Fuck, Marry, or Throw off a cliff”. For the boys I present a Dancing with the Stars edition:

And for the girls we have a vampire themed edition:

I know Sam isn’t a vampire, but I have such a crush on him and I wish Sookie would be with him instead because she has no future with a vampire. Hello?! Bill has to do whatever the sheriff of Area 5 tells him and she will never be able to eat breakfast with him and he can’t eat pizza. Need I go on? So tell me – who would you fuck, marry, and throw off a cliff?

I would marry Sam as I said earlier - you can't have a future with a vampire! I would fuck Bill because who doesn't love hot vampire sex? Theoretically of course. And I would throw Edward off a cliff, but that's only because I haven't had time to read Twilight yet. I'm probably the only one left who hasn't read it...

Gimme! Gimme!

So I know that the economy is in the crapper and blah blah blah, but I still want STUFF! I can’t stop buying shtuff either. Last week when I was in my funk I bought at least five cd’s – I just couldn’t stop myself. Once again, I have no self control. None. Nada. Zilch. Also why I haven’t worked out in a week and why I ate a bag of popcorn the other night and have had too many donuts to count. They’re my weakness! Don’t judge. I am trying to control my constant urge to shop though due to the fact that who knows where we'll be in a year or so. Given that I work for a company that isn’t exactly recession proof I have decided to just drool over the following items as opposed to buying them. However, considering my lack of control I might just own them by next week. Who knows?!

This green Priorities jacket - I luurrvve the Peter Pan collar:

These gray booties from DSW - I've been dying for a good pair of booties:

This scarf from PrettyRaccoons shop at Etsy - you can never have too many scarves:

And, finally, I want this picture from Matteart at Etsy - I don't know where I'd hang it, but I'd find a place, don't you worry:

Nobody steals from me. Nobody.

I have an enemy in my marketing class that is much more serious than the enemy I dealt with in my accounting classes. The ex-enemy was simply annoying with her non-stop chattering and her “I’m better than you” attitude.

The new and improved enemy is an actual asshole. Remember that guy who doesn’t speak English all that well, but still likes to argue with the prof over the correct usage of words? Of course you do. Well now he likes to sit next to me. Mother Effer.

At the end of each class the prof makes us do a group project and you automatically have to work with the person next to you. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he is quite the know-it-all. It was an extremely frustrating experience. He talks non-stop and every time somebody would try to get a word in edgewise he would just talk louder to drown them out. I really do not take kindly to people trying to shut me up so I was truly near tears. Finally, I gave up and completely stopped contributing. Instead I started digging in my purse for stray Starbursts and shared them with the nice guy next to me who had also given up. Then we sat back and watched the one guy left attempt to argue with Jackass who appeared to not notice that anybody else was talking.

This really isn’t all that big of a deal until you consider the fact that I will probably be in a group with him for the huge project that we spend six weeks of class time working on. I have finally faced the facts that if I am in a group with this guy in order to survive I will have to stop caring about my grade…which is virtually impossible for me.

I have this completely illogical attitude that if I don’t get an A on every single project, homework assignment, and test I will inevitably end up homeless living in some parking lot in Seattle next to an onramp to I-5. I pass these people every day on my way home from school and, while occasionally I’ll get tata’s flashed at me, it only serves as a reminder of what my future will be like if I don’t get straight A’s. Please don’t point out how irrational this is - my poor brain can’t process it it’s got too many other things going on.

Anyway, either I have to stop caring about my grade because I won’t be allowed to talk and therefore will have zero control over it or I have to confront him. I’ve been giving myself a pep talk about confronting him so hopefully I’ll have the ovaries to bitch him out in the next month or so.

Oh, and did I mention he stole my pencil? Well, he did. Jackass. On a positive note I’m liking the prof more than I did at the beginning of class. The new enemy isn’t the only idiot in the class – there are quite a few and what I like about the prof is he has no patience for them. I always said I could never be a teacher because when people are stupid I wouldn’t be shy about telling them. This prof just looks at them like they’re crazy and says, “No! That’s not it at all. NEXT!” I love it.

However, I hate how it doesn’t faze these people. They just keep on keeping on. In all seriousness though at one point he asked a question and then point blank said, “The answer is not blah blah blah” and then three people raised their hand and said, “Is the answer blah blah blah?” NO, IT ISN’T. If you’re not listening than stop talking! I’d be worried about losing my cool and yelling at people to shut their stupid mouths, but I figure I’ve made it this far without going completely nutso so surely I can make it another month and a half.

Correction

I have to be honest with you…I lied last week. Only a little. Just a teensy eensy baby lie. Here’s some context so you are not completely lost…first there was a comment from rs27:

Captain America and that outfit is perfect for a USA party. Or just dress as
Betsy ross. She was a hip hip lady.

Then there is my reply:

Strangely enough I have a friend who has a Betsy Ross costume so that would be
perfect.

This comment really pissed somebody off and that somebody would be Tits McGee. When I got to the “America Rocks!” party Saturday night I was accosted by her yelling, “I do NOT have a Betsy Ross costume. It is amish. AMISH!”

She then insisted I make a big announcement to make sure that everybody knows that it is an Amish costume. After that I ventured into Mike’s bathroom where I found some valium, which I crushed in her drink. That way we could make fun of the black eye she received playing dodgeball (I’m telling you sports are dangerous) and continually ask her if she was a victim of domestic violence without her telling us to shut up or worse throwing a beer bottle at us in exasperation. Nobody wastes a drop of booze on my watch.

Soooo…just to be clear…Tits owns an Amish costume (that she made herself – hand sewn and with no zippers so it is authentic) and, despite past confusion, it is not a Betsy Ross costume. Honestly, she wore it to a Halloween party a couple years ago and everyone thought she was Besty Ross. I’m not completely crazazy.

Also, I have to say I was quite disappointed in people’s costumes at the party or maybe I should say lack of costumes. Some people weren’t even wearing red, white, or blue! I mean COME ON! By far Chuckles and I had the best costumes, except Mike of course who was wearing a shirt with a flag and an eagle and around the flag it said, “Freedom is not free.” So eloquent.

Also, talk about my disappointment at seeing Tits wasn’t sporting her Amish costume especially after we quizzed Mike and one of the questions dealt with how people came to America for religious freedom – Hello?! The Amish?! So disappointed.

I'm tired of douchebags flipping me the bird constantly

Lately there have been several incidents of other drivers getting very angry with me while I’m driving. It was happening so often that I was really starting to believe that I was a bad driver, which I’m NOT despite what other people might tell you. Don’t listen to them they’re lying!

For sure the past couple times that people have gotten all pissy at me it has not been my fault and I became absolutely positive of it last night.

The first incident of road rage was when I was almost home from work and went to change lanes (with my blinker ON) and some guy three cars back changed lanes at the same time and stepped on his gas pedal despite the fact that there was a red light not that far ahead and he came so close to hitting me he had to go up on the curb to avoid it. Of course his response was to tailgate me until he could get next to me and then drive along next to me whilst giving me the stink eye, the bird, and some other very inappropriate gestures for, oh, I don’t know, ten minutes. I was a bit worried that he was going to follow me home. Not my fault he stepped on his gas without looking if anyone was in front of him!

The second time somebody completely lost their temper with me was on 100th in Kirkland when it goes from two lanes down to one. I let one person in as road etiquette requires. Hello?! People are supposed to alternate – every car lets one car in. Well, some douchebag SUV thought he could squeeze in in front of me and I was having none of it. Of course, he had plenty of room to merge behind me and then decided to follow me all the way to Edmonds while, I shit you not, giving me the bird the entire way.

Now some of you probably have no idea what I’m talking about when I say he followed me all the way to Edmonds so let’s just say I was, once again, scared that some crazy was following me home to get his revenge.

So what happened last night to convince me that I’m not the crazy one other than the fact that I was able to refrain from hitting the asswipe in front of me at Starbucks with my umbrella? I saw the same douchebaggie SUV do it to somebody else! That’s right, some other poor victim made the poor decision to only let one car in, but stopped at letting the SUV merge so he tailgated them while giving them the bird and I was lucky enough to have been the one who let him in so I saw it all unfold.

I used to feel sorry for people that had road rage because I figured they must be really unhappy people to flip the fuck out just because somebody cut them off or wouldn’t let them merge, but I’m not such a nice person any more. Now I just get angry right back. What’s your worst road rage story? Have you ever pulled a gun on anyone? You can admit it – I probably would have by now, it’s just that I don’t keep my gun in the car.

What to wear?

As I have mentioned earlier my friend who is now an American Citizen is having a party to celebrate and the theme is, of course, U. S. A! Chuckles and I took a trip to Value Village earlier to try and find some good ole patriotic shirts, but we weren’t very lucky. Although, I did find some amazing stripper shoes…but those will be saved for another sort of party. Chuckles has several very cool red, white, and blue shirts we can wear, but before I settled on that I decided to do some searching on ebay to see what I could find and I found plenty. There were two items that would be perfect – here are pictures for your viewing pleasure:

While this would be the most perfectest patriotic costume ever I’m afraid it is quite expensive. I tried to bargain with Chuckles and use my rent money for it, but that was shot down. So, dear readers, do you have any suggestions for the coolest patriotic “I am a stoopid American” costume?

This is a long one. My apologies.

A while ago Ben at No Ordinary Rollercoaster presented a challenge to post a story behind our best hangover ever. It’s taken me a week or so to post mine because I had a really hard time identifying my worst hangover ever. Let’s just say that when I reached the age of twenty one (yes, I waited til I was of legal age) I kinda went crazy. I kept rifling through all those college hangovers, but none of them really stood out as special.

Then the other day as I was driving the song “Dancing Nancies” came on the radio and triggered a memory that I had completely blocked for reasons you will soon understand – memories of a drunken night that I am going to share with you.

Soooo…here’s my story so other’s can learn from my mistakes…or really my series of bad decisions. At the last minute one weekend two summers ago a couple friends and I decided to get tickets off craigslist and head over to the Dave Matthews Band at the Gorge.

I woke up early the day of the concert, packed my stuff, and we headed out for the three hour drive to the Gorge. The second we got there the three of us immediately started downing forties we had bought at the gas station down the street. We were what you might call “Classy” with a capital C.

We quickly made friends with the cute guys at the campsite next to us who offered convinced Kathleen and I to do tequila shots with them. Me doing tequila shots = worst idea EVAH. I repeat: Worst Idea Ever. It’s safe to say that Kathleen and I were drunk before we even got to the concert and as Ross drove us there we played “Dancing Nancies” on repeat and sang at the top of our lungs. It blows me away to this day that the cops routinely pulling cars over outside the concert didn’t pull us over, but that’s where my luck ended.

Take a wild guess as to the first thing we did when we got in to the concert? You guessed it! We bought ourselves some beer and since we are s-m-a-r-t we each bought two forties of Coors light. Have I told you yet that I am as classy as they come?

Once we found our seat I immediately had to go to the bathroom so I grabbed my purse and stumbled down to the port-a-potties, which already had a ridiculously long line. So long, in fact, that by the time I finally relieved myself and struggled to button my pants it was dark out and I could not find Ross or Kathleen anywhere.

Drunk Megan started panicking. I whipped out my cell phone and started calling Ross (Kathleen didn’t bring her cell) approximately every minute and leaving crazy messages that ranged from yelling, “Pick up your GD phone you Douchebag! Why the fuck did you ditch me?!” to me whimpering, “I don’t know what to do. This is horrible. Please please please pick up your phone and tell me where you are.”

I also called people in other states to ask them what I should do. Unfortunately, I was completely unintelligible and they would eventually hang up out of frustration. Finally I gave up, sat down by myself, and went to put my phone in my purse…which had mysteriously disappeared. Oh yeah, oopsies, I left my purse in the port-a-potty.

Of course at this point I decided a safe place to set my phone while I dejectedly tried to come up with a game plan was on the ground next to me, which of course resulted in somebody stepping on it, successfully smashing it into a hundred little pieces.

At this point I started crying, which I’m sure was quite awkward for those sitting around me. I really don’t remember the rest of the night very well, but I think some people attempted to comfort me. Towards the end of the night as I was asking a security guard for help, amazingly, another security guard walked up saying somebody had turned in a lost purse and it was MINE! Not only was it mine, but nothing had been taken out of it. HOLY SHIT!

With my luck looking up I thought I would definitely be able to spot Ross because he’s really tall and ridiculously skinny, but….I didn’t. The only thing left to do was to start wandering the huge field that is a parking lot looking for a car that when we had parked while I had been waaaayyy too drunk to remember where and, shocker, I didn’t find it.

But I did find a group of people going to the same campsite who said they would drive me, but only if I got in a drinking contest with the big guy in the group. Seemed like a good deal to me so I chugged two forties and they deemed me worthy of giving a ride.

So miracle of miracles I made it back to the tent only to find Ross and Kathleen passed out inside and decided the right thing to do was to wake up the campsite by screaming, “Good news! I’m ALIVE! Didn’t you wonder where I was? But, WOOHOO, I wasn’t GANGRAPED. Jesus, I can’t believe you ditched me you fuckers.” Really, one of my classier moments.

I quickly climbed into my sleeping bag cursing the whole time and then quickly climbed out to go outside and vomit everywhere. Repeated that about five more times and the next morning when we went to breakfast I don’t think I left the bathroom once.

So I learned my lesson. Hopefully, you can learn from me: when going to a concert it’s probably not a good idea to overdo it on the forties and tequila shots, don’t wander off without leaving a trail of bread crumbs, and don’t hitchhike in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers who “force” you into a drinking contest with a guy approximately the size of Warren Sapp.

Oh, and about a week later, an ex, also named Ross, who happened to be part of Seattle’s improv comedy club called to make sure I was ok because I had left some crazy messages on his phone and he hoped I didn’t mind, but he had played them for his cast mates and they had thought it was so funny they had provided some inspiration for a skit that they performed that same night that was a big hit. So something good came out of it.

Don't be a Jonze

It's a whole new me!

Do you like it? Do you?! How cute is my new little bloggie blog? I have to say I think Delicious Design Studio did an awesome job and I likey.

Anyway, work is really crazy today so that’s all I have to say. (And by “work is really crazy” I mean the Nordstrom website is moving very slowly.) But I don’t have to write anything anymore because you can just look at my pretty design now. It’s like a weight is lifted off my shoulders – I no longer have to strain to be witty. Jesus, what a relief.

I am a horrible person.

I realized something about myself last night and I am somewhat ashamed of it. I had my marketing class last night and I made a point of sitting in a different spot because I didn’t want to be in a group for the final project with the people sitting around me from the first week. I told myself it was because the guy sitting next to me was quite arrogant. (He kept going on and on about this cool job he had in Taiwan and all the people under him and blah blah blah something about wearing gold-plated diapers).

But I was forced to come to terms with the other underlying reason for my not wanting to be in their group…they were foreign. I know I’m a horrible person, I get it, but before you get all judgey on me I have to tell you that there is a really big group paper due at the end of the quarter. So what if I want to be in a group with the white people who can probably write well? I am so going to hell.

What happened last night to cause this epiphany is the prof (still with the popped collar) was talking about fidelity in terms of movies means how “faithful” they are to reality. At this point some kid in the back of the classroom raised his hand and said in a very strong accent that he thought the teacher didn’t know what the word faithful really meant and was using it in the wrong context and he continued to harp on it until the teacher used “accurate” instead.

All I could think was if I were a student at a school in France I wouldn’t be arguing with the teacher about the correct meaning of French words. But that’s just me, crazy “where are my pills” me! Later another international student got in a friendly debate with the teacher about the difference between convenience and flexibility.

So sue me that I don’t want to be in a group with them and instead want to be in a group with the nice girl who is just happens to be from the U.S. of A. and happens to work in Marketing and, yes, I talked to her on the way to our cars and I think I’m golden if I get in a group with her. Let me tell you I breathed a huge sigh of relief on the way home knowing that I would have a group that spoke fluent English.

Although, that didn’t last long because I quickly realized I needed to head to a gas station or risk running out of gas on the freeway. Oopsies! Don’t want to do that again!

I want a new liver for Christmas

I am in a total funk today for some reason. It could be that it’s Monday with no days off in the near future. But while Mondays normally aren’t the greatest they don’t usually bug me this much. I think it might be the fact that I did not have any coffee this morning. None. Zilch.

As a result of this it is probably a good idea that people avoid talking to me at all costs. I’m going to put a sign up on my office door that says, “Enter at your own risk. There is a 95% chance you’ll get your head bitten off.”

Even little things like my highlighter running out of ink is making me pissy. I might have just chucked it out of my office and it might have hit somebody in the head. I’m sure my coworkers enjoy working with me. But really I should be ecstatic because my fantasy football team is winning and I’m playing the number one player in the league. And, yet, if one more person runs by my office like their ass is on fire I’m afraid I will end up pulling my hair out, which could only make my day worse because I really don’t want the whole patchy hair look.

So because I know people don’t want to hear about what a funk I’m in and really I could go on and on about it, but instead of doing that I took a Sparks test. Remember those? I used to take them over and over again in college. I was such a good student.

Anyways, since I am convinced I am dying I thought the death test would be appropriate to see if I really am…because I believe everything the internets tell me. Annnyyywaaayy, it appears that I am going to die at the ripe old age of 44 on October 28th. Also, I will die from alcoholism. Shocking! No, really, it is shocking because I did answer yes when they asked me if I have the black plague. I figured it was apt enough since I have something and I really don’t know what it is and tapeworm wasn’t an option. Soooo….I’ve got 18 years to live. Now I’m in even more of a funk since I’ve already reached the halfway point.

I will miss all of you

I think I’m dying. There is something very wrong with me. I am always hungry. ALWAYS. I swear I’ve heard of a disease where the person never feels full and it gets to the point where the refrigerator and pantry has to be locked and the key hidden so they don’t overeat themselves to death. In fact, now that I think about it, the one and only CSI show I ever saw was about a guy who had to be chained to his chair or he would overeat.

I would have appreciated it if somebody had tied me to my chair yesterday. The problem stems from the fact that I am trying really hard to be healthy. This is very difficult for me because in the past I have been extremely unhealthy – we’re talking a donut for breakfast every day, multiple mochas a day, multiple sodas a day, a bag of pretzels, pasta drowned in butter and cheese for dinner.

I was on a fast track to becoming the mom in the movie What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and I really don’t want my kids to be embarrassed by my weight – I want them to be embarrassed by my inappropriate comments and the fact that I’m always drunk when their friends come over.

Obviously, it was time for me to make some changes to my diet, but you can see how big of a change this would be for me. I started by cutting down on the mochas and soda. Now I am trying to cut down on the amount of snacks I eat.

The problem is that every day an hour before my lunch break I get sooo hungry. So normally I break out the snackie snacks and start chowing down, but yesterday I brought yogurt to work or as my nephew likes to call it GOGURT! GOGURT! GOGURT! The kid likes his yogurt. I wish I could be as passionate about something that wasn’t butter or bacon.

The point is I tried having a pre lunch snack of yogurt yesterday and it made me more hungry. Then all I could think about was the sandwich waiting for me in my purse. That delicious wonderful sandwich that I wasn’t supposed to eat for another hour. Of course I ate it. Like you had to ask. BUT I only ate half of it and left the remainder on my desk to taunt me. And yet I was still hungry.

At this point I started to panic because the slimfast shake I had brought as dinner on the go for class was sounding awfully tempting, but then what would I have to eat for dinner! Nothing. That’s what. I couldn’t spend another three hours in a boring class on the verge of passing out for lack of food. My solution to this quandary? A lunch of pasta drowned in butter and cheese after which I was still hungry. This is why I believe I am dying. It was really nice knowing all of you.

What happens when I get bored

I had my first marketing class last night. It was boring. Very very boring. First of all, the professor, who was probably in his mid-fifties, showed up in a polo shirt with a popped collar so I already hate him. While I was there I got tired of doodling and instead started writing whatever crossed my mind…anything to keep myself awake. Here’s my notes for your entertainment:

5:33 – I can’t believe I’m going to miss Dancing with the Stars just to spend three hours reviewing the homework.

5:41 – People are stupid.

5:46 – I hate people who don’t raise their hands to talk (When the class is graded on participation and you interrupt other people who haven’t had a chance to speak you’re what people call a Douchebag.)

5:43 – I forgot to bring dinner to work…soooooo hungry. I’m so hungry I actually feel sick to my stomach.

5:52 – Shut. Your. Mouth. What did I say about not interrupting people?!

5:58 – Am I really in graduate school? I only wonder because it appears to me that we’re spending three hours going over homework that consisted of reading comprehension questions.

6:05 – I really need to get my bangs trimmed. They look like a hot tranny mess. (Did I use that in the right way? I really don’t know what it means.)

6:11 – Remember in movies how kids always read comic books hidden behind their school books. I need to figure out a way to work that in this class. I should follow the example of the kid sitting next to me who’s instant messaging friends.

6:17– My bladder is going to explode. Maybe I should stop with this and start writing a will.

6:23 – I wonder what would happen if I started to cry from boredom…I think I’m about to find out.

6:37 – I should come up with a new catchphrase. How ‘bout Shazam? I might have stole that from somebody else…I lack all creativity skills.

6:41 – Stomach growling loudly. People looking around trying to locate noise.

6:47 – Oh dear God. I’m so hungry. Please make it stop. Now I’m whimpering and this can only mean that nobody will want to be in a group with the weird whimpering girl.

6:53 – Just because somebody else is willing to do something does NOT justify an action! Why is this so hard to understand?!

6:59 – People are so stupid.

7:06 – Raise your fucking hand or shut your mouth.

7:11 – My classmates are so unethical it boggles the mind. This is why markets need to be regulated because I can tell you first hand that business students are NOT ethical. They have no morals. None.

7:17 – This, my friends, is why I always have food in my car. Just had a break and was able to run out to the car and grab cheezits. I’m so happy right now.

7:26 – Less than an hour left in class. Shazam! Does it work?

Apparently, this is the point where I passed out…either that or was too distracted by the cheezits to write. I really hope the next class isn’t this boring – I just can’t handle it. I’m afraid of what kind of harm I might possibly inflict on myself if I have to relive this again.

U.S.A.!

Saturday morning I got up early to meet a few friends for a delicious greasy breakfast. One of my friends, Mikey, had some very exciting news for us – he is becoming an American citizen! Finally, after living here for years he has decided that he will grace the good ole U.S. of A. with his tax revenue.

Of course, this is very exciting, but before Andrea and I could give our approval we had to find out who he planned to vote for in his very first presidential election. Andrea and I our staunch liberals and we couldn’t allow another McCain crazy out on the streets!

Sure, I know what you’re thinking: Could I really stop him from registering to vote. And the answer is of course, don’t be stupid. As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me is at the news of Mike’s new citizenship we had to find out who he was planning on voting for. His answer? “Palin, of course! I vote for BOOBIES!”

We tried to reason with him. Believe me, we did, but we obviously made the bad decision of trying to talk to him at breakfast because he was much too distracted by his hash browns. All he would say over and over is, “Why wouldn’t I vote for boobies? What other issue could possibly trump boobies?”

We just shook our heads and pointed out to him that Sarah probably didn’t even WANT him to be a citizen – she’d probably take his citizenship back if she could and ship him over to Russia. He really didn’t have a problem with that. We pointed out that she was probably angry with him for taking American’s jobs. Once again he said whatever…BOOBIES!

But I’ve had a couple days to think about it and I think this conversation is proof that he will make a very good American and who am I to try and stop that by kidnapping him and holding him hostage until it’s too late for him to register? Plus, I am really looking forward to the U.S.A! U.S.A.! party to celebrate his citizenship where we will get to dress up as our favorite American stereotypes and eat lots of really greasy and fatty foods.

How NOT to dress your kids

I would like to continue my earlier story about my shopping trip with the sister if that is okay with you. It’s not really a story so much as I need to share what I discovered in Gap kids after the screeching alarm went off:

Who is buying this for their daughter? I mean really?! A FUR VEST? What is Gap thinking? You know what it reminds me of? Those annoying, bratty rich girls that have fur coats at the age of five. Like Veruca Salt and, in case you didn’t know, everybody hates Veruca Salt.

I really don’t even know what to say about it – I’m at a loss for words, which is why originally I wasn’t going to write about it until, that is, I saw a story on the news about a Seattle company called Heelarious. It is a company started by women who wanted their baby girls to wear high heels. That is correct - the black patent mary janes weren’t cute enough or girly enough for them. Or maybe they were too girly and they wanted something more grown up.

Who really cares what they were thinking? What really galls me is these women think they’re the bees knees and absolutely hi-larious…hence the name “Heelarious.” So clever! I’m not going to go into how unbelievably stupid I think the whole thing is, but I will say this: Do the shoes not look an awful lot like Minnie Mouse’s high heels? And I have to say…I can’t imagine if I had a baby girl that I would want to dress her like Minnie Mouse. But that’s just me.

Nude MILF Sweepstakes

I’m not sure if my three readers are aware of this, but there is an opportunity for you to win over $600 worth of prizes! There is, I swear. I would never lie to you. NEVER. Not only is there a chance for you to win some awesome prizes, but there’s a chance for you to see Crissy’s tig bitties. Once again I would never lie to you.

So here’s the dealio: if you’re not reading Crissy’s blog on a daily basis then you are not living life to the fullest. For example, today she wrote about poop, which is always funny. Right?! Anycrap, she is in the running for Hottest Mommy Blogger and she made the statement that if she won she would post nude pictures of herself and she is also not a liar so don’t think for a second that she won’t live up to her word.

Here’s where the prizes come in: in an effort to fix the contest, see nudie Crissy, and take down the man (aka Dooce), Stoogepie is offering the following prizes if you vote for Crissy: a camera with a case, a memory stick, photoshop, the novels Swollen and Upstream both written by the FAB Melissa Lion who will sign it with your own personalized message.

For more details please go to Stoogepie’s blog because I’m really too lazy to type out all the details, but if you’re not already convinced of the awesomeness of this then you are unbelievably lame and should probably look into doing something about that. Here’s a link directly to the page to vote for all you people who are as lazy as I am: http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/48355.

On top of all that if one of you readers win and say you saw the contest on my blog I can win a video camera! And you know what that means: Boring videos of me doing things like brushing my hair or solving a rubik’s cube or my mom on Thanksgiving trying to figure out to cook a turkey or me singing “I Touch Myself” at karaoke or the aftermath of me after I’ve had two bottles of wine – fun right?! YES!

So go out there people and vote your little asses off.

I'm really good at embarrassing myself

I decided to be a nice little sister and take my sister shopping for her birthday as opposed to punishing her for all the horrible things she did to me when we were little – I still haven’t gotten her back for that time when she was babysitting and right before my brother’s and my bedtime she went into our rooms, climbed under our covers, and farted like she had never farted before, but I will get revenge; it’s just a matter of time.

Unfortunately, I was too distracted by the glory that is H&M to bother picking out butt ugly outfits to force the big sis to try on. After I spent too much money we decided to wander around some other stores mostly because I suspect big sis was enjoying her trip without her two adorable little boys one of whom when we left kept screaming he NEEDED to give her a hug with his chocolate and maple syrup covered fingers.

First, we went to LuluLemon where I drooled over all the workout clothes that were way too expensive for me to justify buying. Plus why would I want to spend $100 bucks on clothes I’m just going to sweat a lot in? But I still really want this jacket…

After LuluLemon we headed over to the Gap. As we were wandering around I spotted on the opposite wall a gorgeous black purse – just what I’ve been looking for! I headed over to take look and grabbed for it only to find out it was attached to the wall. This being an immediate indication that it was probably out of my price range I started searching for the price tag when out of the frakking blue an ear screeching alarm went off. My sister looked at me like I’d lost my mind and quickly ran away so nobody would think we were together and I looked around and proclaimed very loudly, “I was NOT trying to steal the bag. I was just trying to find out how much it is, but OBVIOUSLY they don’t want us to know and they have LOST MY BUSINESS. HA! That’ll show ‘em.” Then I went on to buy a pair of pants and a sweater. I stick to my words. Oh, and here’s the purse they felt the need to attach an alarm to that had my ears ringing for the next day and a half:

Examples of how gullible I am

Something Crissy said on her bloggie blog today reminded me of a story I just HAD to share despite the fact that ultimately is in an accurate representation of what a ditz I can be. Chuckles and I have spent a couple weekends over the past couple summers lounging around at Lake Chelan and while we generally just lay around and wait for the skin cancer to get us every once in a while we get off our bums and go look through the little touristy shops that permeate the place.

One day we were wandering around an art gallery and I offhandedly mentioned that I liked a painting, which happened to be by one Ed Hunt. Chuckles responded by saying, “Huh. I know his brother Mike.” I replied by loudly saying, “You’ve never mentioned Mike Hunt to me. I have never met Mike Hunt.” Chuckles told me to use my inside voice or I should say attempted to but he was having difficulty because he was laughing too hard.

Then there was the time we were driving up to the tulip fields and as we were passing a Hertz rental car place Chuckles ever so sweetly asked me if I would like a “Hertz donut”. My reply? “Hertz has donuts? Well, yeah I want one. You know how much I love do – OW! What the?!” Yep, he punched me in the arm and then said, “Hurts, don’t it?” HAHAHA. He’s a riot and I’m a dum dum.

Be Present

Do you like how I’ve stooped to stealing ideas from other bloggers? This particular blogger being Mizfit. It is just that her post yesterday really hit home with me so I decided to STEAL HER IDEA. Mwahahahaha.

Anycrap, Mizfit was talking about being in the moment, which is a tough one for me. As I have said before, and by said before I mean gone on ad nauseum, I am a busy chick. I have this bad habit of always having this long running list in my head of what needs to be done and as a result I am never actually thinking about what I’m doing at that very moment. This tends to be quite overwhelming and I am slowly learning to embrace the advice of one baby step at a time and screw multi tasking.

This is especially apropos this week because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown Monday night because this is my week off of school and yet I have found ZERO time to workout and it is making me feel like shit. In reality, there is nothing I can do about it so I should just embrace the things I’m doing instead of spending the whole time thinking about what I’m not doing…I’m just rambling now aren’t I? Since I know I am not the only one who is a busy bee what do you guys do to remain sane while in the midst of a hectic schedule? For me every time I start to feel overwhelmed I am going to chant my new mantra, “Be Present.”

On a completely unrelated note, I just received an email from my bestest friend from college who lives in Seabrook, TX which is right on the coast of Galveston Bay. As you can probably imagine things aren’t going so well for her and it’s not just that her fantasy football team isn’t performing well. I feel helpless and am not sure what to say to make her feel better so I am going to do the only thing I know how to do: send her a care package. But I need ideas on what to send her! I want to send her something fun to try and cheer her up – maybe something to entertain her and her fiancé since they will be out of power for approximately the next three weeks.

Things aren't going so well

As the title not so cleverly points out things are not going so well for me. Specifically in the football arena. I’ve already pointed out that my fantasy football quarterback was Tom Brady and we all know what happened there. Then this weekend I unwittingly left a couple players on my roster who were Houston players – Damn Hurricane Ike! I blame my suckiness all on Ike NOT on my laziness, which caused me to not update my team. It’s Ike’s fault I tell you. Or Spencer’s. In fact, let’s go with Spencer because I hate him with the passion of a thousand suns and the fug girls are right when they say, “Blame Spencer.”

Secondly, my beloved Washington State Cougars are embarrassing themselves. Last week they lost to California to the tune of 66 – 3. Not pretty. I can’t even bring myself to watch, which has caused some people to accuse me of not being a true Coug to which I reply, “SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Do you want me to sing the fight song at the top of my lungs right now?! Do you?! Because I will. Don’t doubt that. And, yes, that is a threat. Nobody wants to hear me sing.”

Thirdly, there are the Seahawks. We got our asses handed to us last week, but this week I blame our loss to the 49er’s on stupid NFL rules. I HATE the way NFL overtime works – it basically all comes down to luck of the draw. If they had called heads I am sure we would have won. Obviously somebody has it out for me and by somebody I mean GOD. So God, please, I really need at least one of my teams to do well. Is that asking too much of you?! Is it?! Of course not. While you’re at it I think I’m going to buy a lottery ticket later so if you could email me the winning numbers I would reaallllyyy appreciate it.

On a completely unrelated note here is my poll for today: Since today is my big sister’s birthday should I A. take her out to dinner and a movie (I was thinking the dollar menu at Mickey D’s and Tyler Perry’s new flick), B. take her shopping at H&M and be loud and obnoxious and force her to try on the most ridiculous outfits I can find, or C. offer to babysit her two little boys and teach the oldest to say naughty things (feel free to suggest naughty sayings that would be funny to hear a three year old boy say).

Help Me Internets!

I need your advice peoples. In fact, I’ve been thinking that the solution to my inability to make decisions is to start having my three readers make those decisions for me. I’ll have polls such as, “What should I make for dinner? Chicken Piccata or Hot Dogs?” Or, “Which career path should I take, CPA or CFO?” Or, “What should I snack on this afternoon, pretzels or cheezits?” “What is the best dildo out on the market these days?” (That was for you stoogepie!) It’ll be good times.

So my question for you internettians today is what are your feelings on rain boots? I think they’re cute and when I see girls on the streets wearing them I always think they look cute, but the problem I run into is where would I wear them. To work? There never seems to be much of a need for rain boots in my accounting office. A coworker suggested I wear them on the weekends with my jeans tucked in with a fitted jacket, but I am afraid this would stumpify me (I’m petite…so imagine short chubby midget legs). Should I wear it with funky thigh high socks and a miniskirt or does that scream out I think and dress like I am only thirteen years old? How about with opaque tights and a black business skirt or would that just be odd?

I am floundering here and I need your guidance! In case you needed a visual here are the rain boots that I am considering blessing with a good home (I would only pick one pair of course):