Juice Cleanse: Day Uno

I've been wanting to do a colon cleanse for some time. Scoff if you will, but I am a firm believer in keeping one's pipes flushed and see no harm or shame in speaking about it freely. Colon disease is deadly, and easily preventable with diligence and a little routine maintenance (hence the cleanse). So since I have the week off from work, I decided there was no better time than the present!

I knew enough about the options available to me me to know I had no idea what to choose, so I consulted the professionals at Well Body. She was a short, middle-aged woman who is probably 15 years old than she looks. She wore tastefully tattered light wash jeans, an olive green corduroy jacket, rust colored clogs and a kufi hat with coy fish stitched into the pattern. Her sunglasses covered a good portion of her tiny face (yes, she wore her sunglasses inside) and her brown hair was long, and set into those perfectly effortless hippie waves that I've always wanted and will never get. She danced around from topic to topic, touching on key points in between funny anecdotes all the while sprinkling beautiful bits of her vast knowledge over me. After browsing the shelves, we decided (or SHE decided; I agreed) that rather than a boxed cleanse involving pills, a more easy going natural approach was better for me. We spoke for a good 20 minutes on what I should do and the effects it will have. She advised what juices she would use and apologetically informed me that they'd had a juice run for the holidays and were currently out of what she was suggesting. No worries; I'd run by the store for supplies. I've always been a big fan of Well Body, and have shopped there off and on since I was a kid. I was so pleased at how helpful the woman was, even though I didn't end up buying anything (per her suggestion). Now that's true customer service right there. Needless to say, I will continue to be a Well Body customer.

So here's the breakdown: Tonight I choked down roughly 12oz of prune juice (no pulp per kufi hat's warning), and quickly chased it with some water, and a good tooth brushing. Tomorrow morning when I wake up I'm to drink the same amount of water, wait 30 minutes and repeat with more prune juice. Wait 30 minutes repeat with water and then move to an apple juice/water trade off every 30 minutes until bed time when I will suffer through the prune juice again....and that's it. Since I chose apple juice (I could've done orange juice, cranberry juice or any other that suited my palette) I am also allowed a sparing amount of actual apples throughout the day. I'm very excited about this apple development because otherwise I get all psychosomatic and lose it because I can't eat anything. This cycle only needs to last for three days, but can be extended if I so choose. It all seems very easy (a little too easy), but I fully trust this woman's advice, and I'm eager for the results!!

Since I do have the week off and I won't be taking up any time, ohhhh... I dunno....like -EATING, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to blog about the horrors that await me.
Stay Tuned......

Kiss my Grits

I'm watching Entertainment Tonight, a staple in my evening routine. I like ET because it's better than Wheel of Fortune, and I can sort of watch it in a half assed way. But I managed to catch the segment about Oprah making her grand announcement that she will end her show after 2011. Not a big deal, right? It's not like she's dying or anything. After interviewing audience members, they promptly cut to the footage of when they "broke the news" to Matt Damon. Really? I had no idea Matt Damon was so personally invested in the longevity of Oprah's talk show. They continued with footage 'behind the scenes' at the Victoria's Secret show where the models expressed their own feigned feelings about the announcement....... I'm trying to connect the dots, but keep coming up short. It was a weak attempt, even for ET.

So this got me thinking about celebrity and such, and the fact that celebrities probably care as much about what's going with other celebrities as I do about the running back for Tech. Who is the running back for Tech (WHAT is a running back?)? Exactly. Famous people don't really care about other famous people.

Example: I went to visit my parents in October, and was lucky enough to catch a flight from LBK to Dallas to Springfield. On said flight from Dallas to Springfield I had a pleasant surprise. The following is a conversation between my mother and I:

"Okay mom, there's somebody at my gate....but I can't say it so you're gonna have to guess"
" Oh! is it somebody famous!?"
"No"
"Is it somebody we know??"
"NO"
"...a politician!"
"NO!"
"Well *guffaw* I don't know Sarah!"
"I know, that's why you're going to guess! Okay....what's the second letter of my name?"
"A"
"Okay, and what's the first letter of my brothers' names?"
"M"
"....and a personal pronoun..."
"umm..... I!"
"And my initials..."
long pause..... "Amish? There's AMISH people at your gate?"
"Well no, they're Mennonites or something, but there's like 4 generations of them and they're everywhere and that's just not something you see everyday!"
".....okay...."
"Okay, so it's not that big of a deal I just felt like telling someone. But it's nobody we know"
"And it's not a politician"
"No, and it's nobody famous"
"Okay, well.... good talk"
"Okay, I'll see y'all in a little bit"
*END SCENE*

Not a remarkable conversation (albeit a typical one) between me and my mom, save for the fact that the moment I hung up the phone I looked up and saw Colin Powell walking up to my gate. Seriously?! Right after the above conversation, and Colin Powell is on my flight? NICE. He actually ended up sitting in front of me, which afforded me the luxury of craning my head to: see what his socks looked like, see what he was reading, check the time on his watch, observe his balding patterns, etc.

Once drink service began our lovely (did I say lovely? I meant obnoxious) flight attendant rushed through the front half of the plane so she could greet our famous passenger. She said the usual polite things while she poured his soda and then went into a long winded story about some old Super Bowl champ from the 70s that she had on one of her flights a few weeks prior. Mr. Powell was friendly and obliging, but you could tell he absolutely did not care. And why should he? He didn't even know who the guy was, and then it hit me. Famous people don't care about other famous people you've met. Your friends might, but other famous people don't. This is an important life lesson so take note. Her ear to ear cheese ball grin lasted about 2 nano seconds past Colin's seat, b/c she swiftly glared at me with a "whadya want" stare and a fed up swagger.

"Do you have any coffee" I asked with a pleasant smile.
"NO." she snapped.
"Oh, okay. I'll take a Coca-Cola Classic then"
"A wha?! COKE?" she asked irritably as she poured my glass, and did not extend the courtesy of leaving the can (like she had for CP)

......thanks Flo. Does ET know about you? Next time I'm flying Southwest.

Swingin' Time

It's unseasonably warm both inside and outside. I've been sick this week which has only made me more charming and desirable. Most people like to be taken care of when they're sick. I like to be taken....taken seriously when I say leave me the *beep* alone. There's just something about feeling like junk in the trunk that makes the majority of human contact overwhelming and infuriating. And I wonder why I'm still single. Actually I don't wonder, I know. Because I'm a total bitch. Moving on.... here's some of what's been going on lately:

The fair came to town! Oh yeah, nothing quite like stuffing your face with greasy, deep fried food while simultaneously judging all the poor slobs that are fatter than you.

I bought beer. In Lubbock. At the grocery store....... oh yeah, and a Hershey bar...
We found this lovely gentleman setting up camp on our front porch...

...and swiftly shot it out of it's web with high powered wasp killer. Here's his corpse next to a peanut M&M for scale (he was gigantic).

The blessed Egg Nog hit the shelves on a crisp October day. I maintain that Kroger's is better than Gandy's but a girl will take what she can get.

I went to Vegas for work, and found some time to make some new friends! Stilts Man and I are getting married in the Spring...
...but Toby doesn't know. Shhhhh (also this pic isn't blurry, you're just seeing it through 'Vegas Vision')
Yep, it's been a good Fall. As we roll into Winter I have the peace of mind that comes with losing 5 pounds after the aforementioned sickness. Ahhhhh, sweet sickness.

Sittin' here, eatin' some Ramen.... I attended Mylene's Quince tonight...

Aaaaaaaand that's about it right now.

Oh how I've missed you, personal blogosphere

It's been a lo-ong December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.... okay so it's not December, but Summer. Or at least it was? Who knew the last few months could be so hectic! I finally got my sweet self moved across town. It's amazing what some subtle roommate peer pressure can do in the way of getting unpacked and organized. I only lack a few kitchen boxes which have been indefinitely moved to the garage. Jacqueline's kitchen is far superior to anything I ever established, and has not yet experienced the painful aftermath of hard water. Needless to say, the few foggy bar glasses I unpacked went directly to an unused cabinet never to see the light of day...

I've been traveling for work which has been an exhausting and exciting ride! July was a surprisingly cooled Atlanta, August was a hot and crowded New York City, and September saw me to Las Vegas: my new favorite place. I've always loved the beach and the mountains. The LV mountains are kind of imposter mountains, but they're lovely none the less, and the attitude there is that of a Spring Break destination with loose money (instead of loose, bouncy coeds) and more clothing (usually). I had to laugh when our cab driver was explaining how to "spot" hookers on the strip after we naively admitted we hadn't seen any. He said "If you see a girl in a tight dress, high heels, with a cell phone glued to her ear... that's a hooker" I mused "Oh, see back home we just call those Tech students"

Things are starting to calm down a bit, which has afforded me more time to run the company blog (www.stephenjosephgifts.wordpress.com), Facebook and Twitter page. I try to juggle the three of these while still fulfilling all of my office duties. It's not been easy, but I'm enjoying it. Sadly, the side effect is that I really have no desire to update here after I'm done.... but, it's not "Deep Thoughts" fault so I decided I could show it some love whilst waiting for Derek to come over!

The South Plains Fair is in town, and with it comes the yearly ritual of stuffing our faces with anything and everything that crosses our path! It's a long standing tradition dating back a good 10 years. Today Sydney has come in from San Antonio and Derek has driven from Dallas to enjoy all the fair has to offer. The excitement of corn dogs, funnel cakes, caramel apples, fried pies, cheese on a stick, curly taters, turkey legs, cotton candy, fajitas, pizza, and corn on the cob is almost too much to stand! I plan on taking many pictures with the hand-me-down digital camera Jacqueline has generously lent to me. I hope this Saturday finds you all well; I'll eat a corn dog for ya!

Mr. Mercury

I'm lacking inspiration, but sometimes things are better left to the professionals.

Who needs a house out in Hackensack? Is that what you get for your money?

This will be my last blog from my apartment. As some of you know I have been "moving" for the last few months after it was decided in late spring that I would be moving into a house across town with a coworker rather than renewing my lease. Today is my last day here.

It is always bittersweet to leave a home. I sit here on the floor in a totally empty loft (and if you saw it before you'd be shocked at the size; all of my crap severely dwarfed the place). My green paint is still on the walls; the apartment office found the task of providing me the correct shade to paint it back to be a difficult and insurmountable one. The carpets are freshly steamed, because I am a firm believer in leaving no reason for your landlord to not return atleast a large portion of your deposit. The thud of the hammers from the carpet guys next door is impossible to ignore. Shadows from the 6 foot weeds that more resemble small trees spy through the discolored mini blinds. I was fond of this apartment at times.

But as I sit here I try to remind myself of all the struggles and hardships I encountered whilst living here. Not to depress myself, no, but to remember how lucky I am to be moving on. I have always been one to dwell on the past, and nowhere here to escape it. There have been small highs followed by crushing lows. Pleasant triumphs were had only to be met by suffocating defeat. I can not in my right mind be sad to see this place go. The character of the loft is immense, but it's not enough to redeem the mental, emotional and often physical pain I felt here. Perhaps the joys of living alone were lost on me. There was too much time. Too much time to sit and dwell; too much time to agonize over all things big and small; too much time to feel depressed, alone and forgotten; to much time to wallow in self pity and hatred; too much drinking; to much shopping; too much TV; too much sleeping; too much not living my life to the fullest. I mean I'm not a slug or anything, but I can honestly admit now what I've known for quite some time which is I let myself be a lesser version of me here, alone, away from the truth in love.

So I'm about to close my laptop, pack up my car with the last tiny load and hit the ground running (not literally... we all know how much I hate to run). Somerset Square can kiss my ass.

Sarah's Summer: Cliffnotes Edition

Holy Moly.

Sooo what has Sarah been up to lately? Traveling. A lot...... well atleast a lot for me. Things have been busy since the Big Lebowski Birthday -

Little Lebowski Urban Achiever (Monica), The Dude (Me), and Maude Lebowski sans robe (Carcie) enjoying some "caucasians"

and if you missed that then you're a sucka (and most of you did miss it). Family was in town, Sarah was moving her happy self clear across town, parties were happening; it was nuts.

Next was a short albeit busy week at work then it was off to the mountains for some R&R. But before I could leave I had to haul all my clothes, makeup, etc (y'know the things I need to go out in public) to the new casa... we'll get to that in a little bit. So after work I load up the Focus and head out into the clear blue yonder to the beautiful mountains of NM. I arrived late Thursday night and quickly settled in for a "relaxing" weekend in the mountains (with a mountain of things piling up at home). We ate, we gambled, and I finally met the lovely Eric. I enjoyed the treat of a supreme pizza at his establishment Cafe Rio. Good food, good people, good place. Right on.

I said my goodbyes to the view and made it back to Texas by 8pm. Just enough time to unpack, wash and repack (the reason I needed everything in one place): My flight was leaving for Atlanta in 34 hours. Toss in another busy day at the office and an evening filled with prep for a weekend of more work (in dress clothes) and Sarah had her hands full. I squeezed in two hours of sleep before my 4am wake up time and I was off to the Peach State! We landed around noon Atlanta time, took the Marta to our hotel downtown, then promptly speed walked to Gibney's for some turkey burgers and the best Diet Coke I've had in recent memory. Next was booth set up at the Americasmart until 8 o'clock. Ugh. I love traveling for work, but the exhaustion was already setting in and the show hadn't even started yet. Some General Tsu's chicken at Hsu's helped ease my pain and it was home to the Marriot Marquis for some sleep.

Shows go a lil' something like this: wake up at 6:30, meet at 8:15, scarf down breakfast and head to the booth. Sell, sell, sell, sell, sell, lunch from Lassiter's, sell, sell, sell, sell, eat at a fancy high priced Atlanta hot spot, head home, repeat. Good times, but very tiring. I flew home Monday only to discover my good friend Andrew was in town. Scratch the 10 o'clock bedtime, and head to a softball game with him and Connor. Drop the boys off at the Library for some drinks and then I finally made it in bed just before midnight. What's the point in sleep now? I was running on auto pilot, a feeling I remembered all too well from my restaurant/retail days and a feeling I realized perhaps I was getting a little too old for. Even coffee couldn't revive me; it was just keeping the status quo: awake.

I struggled (and I do mean struggled) through the hectic work week. It's nice to get out of the office and have a chance to work with our customers in person... that is until I have to come back to the office and work the other end of the business: order entry. I very much like my desk job as well, but it's kind of like TP'ing your own house: You have fun making the mess, but you still have to clean it up. The loooong week ended with a celebration! A coworker, Carcie has the same b-day as Harry Potter so what better way to celebrate than with an HP themed party! We all dressed up, had HP inspired treats such as butter beer, pumpkin pasties, polyjuice potion punch, etc. I dressed as Dobby, Carcie was Tonx, Jacq was Dumbledore (complete with a three foot wizards hat made from poster board) to name a few. Aaron actually shaved his whole head (eye brows included) and came as Voldemort. We filed into the theatre much to the delight (they were delighted to sit there and make fun of us) of our fellow theatre goers and enjoyed the Half Blood Prince.

So here we are today. I still haven't moved out of my apartment, I've got a laundry list of things to do to get there and the clock is ticking on the time I still have left with my Bro's truck. I hope everyone else is having a more relaxing summer. Things have been nuts-o but good! I'll be back to my usual updating once I get settled. In the meantime I'm getting paid to blog! You can check out our companies new (and I do mean very new... I have very limited time to work on it so it's a work in progress) blog at http://www.stephenjosephgifts.wordpress.com/

Peace out!

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy!!

As I listened to the sausage sizzle and pop in the skillet tonight a memory came to me...A few years ago I became a vegetarian (only for a short while) in the hopes of reaching some sort of enlightenment. While the pledge didn't stick, the enlightenment did. I watched while the sausage patty browned; a key ingredient in my dinner of breakfast. I melted some cheese atop said sausage as it rested in the safe confines of a toasted English Muffin. Add a lightly scrambled egg and the sandwich was complete. I'm always surprised by myself when I eat pork, and I've already eaten it 3 times this week. While this is certainly more than I usually partake in, my mind always does a few flips when I touch the pig to my lips.

You see, the thing that prompted me to kiss off the meat was the following article in Rolling Stone. It outlines in detail the depravity of the Pork Industry. I had been contemplating becoming a vegetarian for quite some time, but after reading this I was so completely disturbed I couldn't ignore it anymore. I firmly believe in the responsible use of animals for our nourishment, shelter and well being. It is our God given blessing (Genesis 1:26). Clearly these Pig Farmers didn't get the memo. I still eat meat, and ironically pork in all it's many forms is one of my favorites (sausage? good. ham? good. bacon? good!). I don't know if that makes me a hypocrite or not. Either way I feel people should be informed about what they're eating.

Please don't be discouraged by the length of this article; you will NOT regret reading it. Be enlightened...

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/12840743/porks_dirty_secret_the_nations_top_hog_producer_is_also_one_of_americas_worst_polluters

I should change the name from "Deep Thoughts" to "Random Crap"

And heeere weeeee GO.

I had the Beach Boys Christmas music stuck in my head ALL DAY. What's up with that? I think the BB's were on the radio on the way back from lunch. I ate Digiorno's stuffed crust. Y.U.M.

After a series of other delightful events I ventured to CVS with Monica so she could get tampons. That's right, I'm callin' her out. And really? There's nothing to be called out on. It happens. I don't want to play the crazy feminazi card, but why do we have to pay for tampons? It seems unethical... but I guess we have to pay for food and water also so whatever. And Monica doesn't even have Internet access so the odds of her reading this are slim. And if you are reading this Mon, I owe you the next three restaurant picks and a bloody mary. For you. Not for me. Those things are foul. So we're browsing the candy aisle when I spot some Sour Patch watermelons. Speaking of yum, so in a moment of weakness I picked up a bag.... turned it over, and checked the calorie count. 140! How many servings? 6!! What the fetch?! That's, like 2 billion calories. Unacceptable. So as we're checking out I'm telling Monica about this and the check out girl is scowling at me. She actually appeared to be going out of her way to look up at me and frown. As we were walking out I mentioned something to Mon about this and she said "Maybe it's because we're skinny so she just thought you were a bitch for talking about it"

A: I am no skinny bitch
B: if I'm gonna get busted it is NOT going to be by a guy like that...


...wait, no that's Abe Froman. At any rate - MAYBE if that checker girl (who's was workin' what her mama gave her) spent a little less time giving me dirty looks and a little more time counting calories we wouldn't've had our unpleasant little run-in. That is all, you can now all lower your opinion of me.

Saturday List of Things To Do:

#1 digest the sausage/egg/cheese English Muffin I just (prepared and) ate
#2 lose 20 pounds
#3 get money order from United and pay rent/H20 bill
#4 pack and move my junk
#5 maybe finish watching 'I Still Know What You Did Last Summer'
#6 kill myself for wanting to watch ISKWYDLS
#7 take Emmy to the park to chase some ducks (but not the big ones with red beaks, they're aggressive)
#8 go shopping
#9 earn enough money to do said shopping
#10 go out and find a husband
#11 dump husband because he doesn't like I Still Know What You Did Last Summer
#12 go to bed early

Yes, it's going to be a busy day. I think I can manage.

That's Amore!

I like Clipper Ships... wait, no that's Little Man Tate. I like PIZZA. Do you? There's not much you could do to a pizza that I wouldn't approve of.

Just thought I'd share.

NOM!NOM!NOM!

...maybe they were driving to Russia...

Today on my way back to the office from my lunch break I passed a car with this sticker on the back window...

...which was funny on so many different levels. I'll leave you to write your own punch lines.

Homicide is in this year

Let's take it back a few months...

It was September (or maybe August?) and the office had all participated in Race for the Cure. When you sign up you receive a t-shirt. The shirt is generally low quality and busy as heck so we (being in the t-shirt designing and printing business) chose to make one of our own. It was very simple and black (the provided shirts were white). Now I don't typically love black t-shirts b/c they get all linty and faded and they always feel different than other color shirts, but it's all good. Our black shirts looked pretty sharp in a sea full of white and pink. I kicked it up another notch by wearing black leggings and black shorts. Mind you I wasn't trying to be all Johnny Cash... the shorts were a recent purchase from walmart (imitating the sorority favorite nike shorts) and the tights-well the tights were to conceal my not so sexy, non summery legs (read: pale and chubby). No one seemed to notice my monochromatic ensemble, until later.

If you've ever raced for the cure then you know that the cure can only be raced for at an ungodly hour of the morning. If you're thinking of curing cancer please be forwarned that any efforts made past 9 o'clock am will be null and void. So I made it back to my casa around sunrise (okay, it was slightly after sunrise... but still). So after I watched Clue to wind down:

I skipped on over to the mall for a little shopping. Being the lazy Saturday kinda girl that I am, I opted to stay in my race gear. I made my obligatory stop at The Candy Wrapper for a few delicious candy treats. Every time I visit the c-dub it becomes more and more obvious that I am getting older. I know this must come as a shock. The average age of the employees is about 17, so naturally I have all sorts of fun chatting about Twilight and gossiping about celebs, etc. It turns out I have lots of things in common with High School girls (a quality that would have been useful when I was actually in high school). Alex was working that morning. Alex is a red head that stays "true to her roots" (pardon the pun). In all her fiestyness and excitement she commented on my outfit. "Man you're all murdered out!"

Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder? What does this mean? Apparently, when one is wearing all black it is refered to as being "murdered out". This is where my oldness kicks in, because that's just dumb. Who says stuff like that? Who even comes up with that? Is that because murderers wear all black? If anybody fit that profile I would say it would be a cat burglar... in which case I'd be "burgled out"

Or maybe "mimed out"?

How about I go to work tomorrow all "Snape'd out"

Or hit the club this weekend all "Beyonce'd out"?

Because it's dumb. That's why. C'mon kids, you gotta do better than that...

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping

Even my dog doesn't like me anymore. She's chewing her raw hides, the very same raw hides I might add that have been sitting neglected around the upstairs for months. She's suddenly interested in them again. Or perhaps she'd rather be doing anything than hanging out with me. We had a great game of Dirty Bitch, which consists of me hiding on the stairs and "goosing" her (as I call her a dirty bitch, and old lady, and stinky butt... and things like that) until she gets scared and gives up. Except she didn't get scared tonight, she just got mad... and then got even. So maybe I used up all my cool points on that because I have now become the pariah of the household.

I spent the day eating and seeing friends. I woke up, ate a small turkey sandwich (of the mapley, peppery persuasion) and chugged a Diet DP. Then I met Sarah T for lunch at Baker Bro's (somewhere neither of us had been before). We had a good 3 hour long chat before she had to head out of dodge. After a peaceful tanning session I rolled my old bones back home, where I decided I should bake some cookies. Chocolate chunk pecan was the winner (paired with some Flamin' Hot Fritos... because if there are FHF anywhere in a 5 mile radius I will hunt them down and introduce them to their maker). Not too long after that I met up with Jacq, Glen and Susie, and Brandon at Caprock Cafe for a cheeseburger in paradise. Now please make a note that I really wasn't that hungry, but Jacq had never been to Caprock and I'm never one to pass up an opportunity for a delectable cheeseburger. Tack on a few beers and I was pushing max cap. Next was Roller Derby, and what Bout is complete without a gigantic beer? I partook. Then of course we topped off the night with an after party at Wookiee's mom's house. I felt the need to finish off the day with some veggies, snack crackers, homemade pico and chips, sweet tea, orange balls and a heaping bowl of grits. I will be full for days. This is like Thanksgiving full, and there's just no coming back from that. Yes it was a good day, filled with good friends, good food and good TV. Even after a day like today I am still unsettled. Sometimes even when love and acceptance wash over you in abundance there are still pieces missing.

Example: I love mint chocolate chip ice cream, but no matter how good that ice cream is, if the chips are missing it's not the same. All the positive things fall away to the sides, because the thing you really wanted isn't there. Today was a missing chip day. And even though there are better chips out there (chips that understand and can appreciate the importance of being the chips in the mint chocolate and respect the mint chocolate and it's feelings) I still miss my chips. Chips got tired of me, just like Emmy..... damn dogs.

It's a long way to the top

Inspired by those ever present Top 5 thingys on Facebook I decided to concoct a list of all the bands I've seen live. I have a nice little cd case with all my old ticket stubs, but sadly it is one of the few things I have already packed so this one's gonna have to roll off the ol' memory. In the most concise order I can think of:

ZZTop
Jackyl
George Thorogood
ZZTop (again)
Lynyrd Skynyrd
ZZTop (3rd times the charm)
Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
Def Leppard
Skid Row
Ted Nugent
KISS
Pearl Jam
Creed
Collective Soul
Coal Chamber
Slip Knot
Britney Spears
Nikka Costa
Aerosmith
Cheap Trick
Metallica
Limp Bizkit
Deftones
Linkin Park
Godsmack
Metallica (again)
Schwayze
ZZTop (yes, a fourth time)
Pat Green
The Doobie Brothers
Tom Petty
Jackson Browne
Van Halen

And a hand full of others that aren't worth remembering or mentioning. Good times.

Random thread on a Fry Day night

This chair has been broken for years. Why haven't I bought a new one? Because I'm cheap - no, not cheap, maybe just lazy? I'm searching for a good word for 'easy to please', but all I'm getting are Coldplay lyrics. I like Coldplay, if I listened to new music more often they would be in the front running for favorite. As it were I'm listening to the Traveling Wilburys and drinking some whiskey and diet dr. pepper. I don't necessarily like whiskey, but I have what is basically a full bottle of Seagram's resting in my freezer. It's original purpose was for hot tottis while I was battling a particularly nasty case of the sniffles a few months back. The totti managed me through a Josh Abbott concert. I must've had too many considering the only way to make it through anything of the Texas Country persuasion is to be blind drunk. I wasn't there for the music though, I was there for the company. Coincidentally, the whiskey lasted longer than the relationship - not that that's really any indication. I'm about as good with dating as I am in replacing broken chairs...or drinking whiskey. What makes it better? Ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, I polished off a pint of Blue Bell Mint Chocolate Chip today on my lunch hour. The secret to a good MCC, is the chips. Because really, the actual ice cream portion is just bright green nonsense, but the chips... the chips are where the magic is, and Blue Bell has put a spell on me. I'd like some more, but a full trip to Wal-Mart does not appeal to me (or the 8 oz of Diet DP and whiskey in my system), and Dairy Queen is already closed. Why do they close so early? Is it a budgeting issue? For those of you in Lubbock, you might recall a few years ago (I think it was more like 10, but whatevs) the majority of the DQs in town turned to McDonalds. I suppose this was the proverbial writing on the wall... tell it to my dipped cone. And speaking of Dairy Queen, surely you've all heard the story of the time we loaded up in the family wagon and took a trip to the ol' Texas Stop Sign. I was about 4, and my favorite treat was a Dilly Bar. Now see, there's the Dilly Bar on the stick, and then there's that weird Dilly Bar patty thing in a little wax paper bag. I didn't like that one, I wanted my Dilly Bar on a stick, damnit. Even at the tender age of 4 I didn't trust the woman working the window to get my order right, so I took it upon myself to specify. I leaned over my mom's shoulder and shouted into the pick up window, "I want a Dilly Bar on a dick!" Ahhh yes. It seems I had my priorities sorted out even then. Now this is me, being the bigger person... I think. I'm trying to do the opposite of what usually happens in these situations, so it stands to reason that I am making a good decision. Just call me thirty, flirty and thriving - except I'm not thirty. That's you. Have fun with that.

Billy don't eat a hero!

I stumbled across this amusing article about the worst drive-thru foods you can eat. Now I tend to consider myself a fairly healthy eater. Please don't misunderstand, I can shovel in the junk like the rest of them, but as far as overall education goes I'd like to think I'm ahead of the curve (or at least keeping up with the pack). So some of these things didn't come as a surprise to me. It doesn't take a dietary wunderkind to know that 2+2=4, or in this case deep fried+ranch= big fat ass. So have a looksy! I was keeping my fingers crossed that none of my favorites made the list, and I was pleased to discover that I don't even order most of the offenders.

Be enlightened:

http://health.yahoo.com/experts/eatthis/30464/the-worst-drive-thru-foods-in-america-and-what-to-eat-instead/

Sadie, Sadie, Married Lady

Houston is a magical place. Before this weekend I'd only ventured to the city once. It was 2004, and I was on tour with a friends band - the infamous tour that I quit school for. Naturally other big things factored in, but the tour was the proverbial straw. This time I'm here for the joyous celebration of my cousin Brad's nuptials at the Houston Zoo.

We pulled into town yesterday evening, just in time to make the pre-wedding crawfish boil at Little Woodrow's, a delightful back yard patio type of joint with plenty of charm to go around. We had the entire back patio reserved, and it was stuffed to the gills with family, friends, beer and crawfish. As if this wasn't good enough, God also saw it fit to send a wonderful man selling homemade tamales to the party. I grabbed 3dz/$20 for the table and the feast was in full swing. I'd never had the pleasure of eating crawfish in their purest form, but the N'awlins side of my family gave me a brief, but thorough tutorial. I was totally grossed out, and completely in love. They're so wrong they're right. Much fun was had by all.

Today, in the interest of killing some time, the family rendezvoused at The Cheesecake Factory before doing some shopping at the Galleria. After dining on Chicken and Biscuits and Lemoncello Tort, we hit the second floor. Christi and mom bought shoes, I bought some Godiva and dad bought a Puma hat. In the midst of shoe shopping we made our way into Payless; dad went next door to Borders. It wasn't 20 seconds after we walked into the store that I saw him: Black suit, loooong blonde beard and a dread locked skull cap. He was a sharp dressed man, he was Billy Gibbons. I actually didn't think it was really him at first, but that didn't stop me from running (yes, I ran) over to Borders to tell my dad. For those of you not in the know, my father is in love with ZZTop. We have seen them 4 times in concert as a family, he has a poster hanging in his office and he has a replica keychain. My dad bravely approached him and asked for a picture, Billy obliged. My father can now die happy.

And a big shout out goes to Wifi, Godiva and The Deadliest Catch for making this peaceful afternoon possible. Fun pics coming soon!

S-A, T-U-R, D-A-Y....BITES!

Saturday really didn't go so well for me, but in the interest of 'keepin' on the sunny side' I've decided to weed out a few positive things that happened...

Pro: I caught a rerun of Dead Like Me (which doesn't usually appear in syndication)
Con: I woke up late, and missed Degrassi

Pro: I got my hair done
Con: As a result of my unwise decision to dye my hair red, I was forced to go brunette instead of blonde which is what my heart was set on.

Pro: The brown is very rich and beautiful...
Con:... but it's not blonde
Double Con: I missed a call that I REALLY. DID. NOT. want to miss

Pro: I picked up some chick-fil-a after the salon
Con: Some old bag busted my tail light in the parking lot and chose to ignore it and drive off...
Double Con: I then chose to return the call I missed.... and leave a ticky-tack message (Boo!)

Pro: I managed an awesome nap on the couch
Con: I woke up too late to go tan

Pro: I picked up some Raising Cane's
Double Pro: And I caught up on Lost and CSI whilst eating said Cane's

All in all the day was not my worst, not even in the top five - BUT it was definitely a Monday. Maybe that means my Monday will feel like the weekend =)

"...but you don't even have kids!"

This phrase was recently said to me not once, but twice. Twice negating the value of my time.


When do you wake up in the morning? I wake up around 6:45, allowing me time to eat breakfast, check my email (and by email I mean facebook) and get pretty for the day. 6:45, which was fifteen minutes after the suggested meet time. I don't think so. It was assumed I'd be up for the early morning task, which was met with a big fat "Heck no!" from me.


"But you don't even have kids"


That's right. I also don't have influenza, rickets, a mold infestation or a host of other things that might make it difficult for me to get up and out of the house at such an ungodly hour. I don't have kids, but what does that have to do with anything? If I have children I have a legitimate reason to wake up at 5:30 in the AM, but if I don't have kids I don't have a legitimate reason to not get up at 5:30 in the AM.... As I struggled to wrap my brain around what this meant I couldn't reach any sort of logical conclusion. I can only guess it is because people who have children feel very validated by their ability to reproduce. A validation that supercedes anything I might have going on in my life.

So I've decided I need to fabricate some reasons for the future as to why I will not be able to meet my coworkers 2 hours before the work day begins...

... because my religion forbids me to drive before sunrise...
... because my inner city outreach program requires me to hand out coffee until 7:45...
... because I'll be too busy punching you and your kids in the face...
... because I'm memorizing New Moon word for word, which constitutes at least an hour of heavy reading every morning...
... because my dog ate my homework...
... and your kid...
... and just because it's called a "quick getaway" doesn't mean it doesn't take time to plan...

If you've experienced any sort of discrimination due to the fact that you are not a mother or father feel free to use any or all of these excuses against your critics. After all, the best use of your time is what you decide, and that should be apparent to us all.

I want...

- Equality
- One of those California Pizza Kitchen personal sized Sicilian pizzas sitting in my freezer
- For Emmy to brush her own stanky teeth
- To figure out something to wear tomorrow
- To wake up in my parents house to the smell of coffee and the sound of Winston barking while Tim & Nan talk over each other
- some gumbo
- For the couch sized pile of laundry sitting next to me to wash and fold itself
- A kinder disposition
- More focus at work
- To move to a respectable dwelling and...
- Some sense of organization when it comes to that dwelling
- You to have a good day
- A margarita on the rocks/patio/beach
- A family of my own someday
- About a dozen Cadbury Eggs.... self control, self control, self control....
- To be blonde again
- This to last a very, very long time....

Wham That Lamb!

So I was scrolling through my past blogs and realized there has been no fluidity to my blog "labels". Generally people categorize their blogs, whether it be "gossip" or "work" or "relationships" .....my labels are as random and meaningless as my blogs. They are floating freely in the cosmos. In an attempt to bring some sort of balance and purpose to my blog I have chosen to revisit said labels, and expand on each one. My first choice is "Lost Childhood Memories".

When I was younger I had a thing for stuffed animals. No, not like "a thing", but in true young girl fashion I thought stuffed animals were the end all, be all of cool. I had an endless stash of plush which was dominated by my comprehensive Pound Puppy collection. Something you should know about my Pound Puppies is that they all had names, voices and specific rolls. They were a family, but not just any family - they were the McPuppies. We (my brothers and I) developed this name after the beloved Marty McFly of Back to the Future, so of course there was his stuffed doppelganger Marty McPuppy. With the character profiles in place we were primed to play "dolls" with my "Loveable, Huggable Puppies who need a home"

The fun was not limited to those of the puppy persuasion though. There were others that joined in on the action, first and foremost a pair of stuffed, bean-bag sheep that had a Laurel & Hardy thing going on. They spoke in an incoherent dribble of "Bah bah-bah bah, BAH-BAAAAAH!!" You think I'm kidding.... I'm not. And all the animals lived in the happy existence that we made for them, working at McPuppies (that's right, they owned a restaurant) and just being cool. There were slow times, and in these slow times the puppies yearned for something more. We obliged. So we devised a game show for the pups to play. The game show was called "Wham That Lamb!" and went a little something like this:

The two lambs (one was named Lamby, and I'm not positive but I think they both might have been named Lamby) were hung by shoelaces in my brother's closet. We then rubber banded mouse traps to a board and propped the board against the back wall of the closet. The stage was set, and all we needed were some participants from the audience. Bruiser, Marty, Biff, Whopper, they all took turns answering "questions" from the host, and if they answered correctly (which they always did; my pound puppies were no fools) then the host/audience (my brothers and I) would all scream "WHAM! THAT! LAMB!" and the player would hit the hanging lamb as hard as they could, launching Lamby and/or Lamby toward the mousetrap. If the trap was sprung, and an appendage was caught in the trap the contestant would win! If the trap was not sprung.... we would just keep trying until it was. And thus "Wham That Lamb" was born, and the three of us discovered another way to misspend our youth.

Thanks mom and dad.

9 times (in the voice of Ed Rooney)

This was the ninth Valentine's season I have worked at the Candy Wrapper. Ninth. I'll spare you all the grim details of enduring this manic holiday in a 10x30 fluorescently lit box, mostly because I've already recounted it with most of you. You can't fully appreciate how intense it gets unless you've worked it. If you've ever waited tables on a game day you have a small idea of the horror.

Every year is a little different; every anxiety attack slightly more alarming. Just kidding... kind of. Valentine's hasn't given me an anxiety attack in, ohhh at least 3 years. But seriously folks, it's good to be on this side of the nervous breakdown. Especially when I got to work with such a lovely bunch of high school girls.

So, as another Valentine's Day comes to a close I am resting easy. There were no tears, no under the breath expletives, no freak outs, no weeping in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, no shaking caused by exhaustion or loss of faculties due to hunger..... at least not by me, save for the expletives.

Until next year V-Day...

And I? I took the one less traveled by.

Oh, how the roads of living wind us mercilessly about. Turning through cities almost untraveled only to arrive at a familiar end. I can't help but wonder as I travel the roads, arms outstretched like a childish airplane, where they will be taking me next. Yes, I wonder....

I was walking a trail eleven months further along in the year two thousand and eight when I found myself rinsing hair color out of my newly blond locks. Blond matched this journey perfectly, but it seemed fate, or inertia or some... thing had a different idea. The warm water touched my head with a familiar comfort. Primarily the wonderful sensation of clean, but secondly a firm reminder of home, of routine, of - blond. Water pooled into the dye for a brief second before running down my back, into the tub, down the drain... goodbye... I stepped forward, perhaps in some tiny moment of precognisance, only to feel a sharp thud between my shoulder blades. I realized before I had fully revolved what had happened...


Yes. In a true Cosmo Kramer moment the shower head tore away from the pipes leaving me defenseless against the overwhelming water pressure. Unable to divert the violent stream (after all, a primary function of a shower head is to direct the flow of the water. No head, no direction) I pressed my body against the shower wall, scarcely avoiding my foe. My hand darted with stealth like precision to cut off the water supply. I was safe - for now.

It was here my journey took a sharp turn. Imagine me, meandering somewhat carelessly down a dirt path, my blonde hair lightly wafting behind me in a breeze. Then I am stopped by a sudden shift in the path. I pivot on my heels and face my body down the long, inescapably straight highway laid out before me. I pause briefly considering my options, but there are no options. In a very cruel turn of events I am faced with one and only one choice. My eyes fix on what awaits me, never straining for I already know of what I will see. The festering cesspool that is Wal-Mart on a saturday afternoon. Seriously life? Was this turn really necessary?

It was poetic I suppose that I already knew where the shower heads were located. Not because I'd bought one before, but because years before during sleepless nights (sleeplessness caused by some other woe of a young woman) I had wandered the aisles looking for something to spend my money on. Something that, for however short a time would bring me solace. I clearly had not found that before on the shower head aisle, but today I would. I speedwalked around old women in motorized buggies, and dodged single mothers, cowboys and shoplifters. I grumbled and cursed under my breath (not very far under) at my present circumstances: wet hair, splotchy skin, and the noticeable smell of Nice 'n Easy. People stared, not that it was tricky to figure out my situation. They watched with annoyed wonder, as if I was somehow bothering them. Because, afterall the greatest burden of this entire situation was the inconvenience I placed on the unsuspecting people of Wal-Mart. And then the coup de grâce.... with the hostility growing ever heavier in the air I, in one fatal blow shattered the patience of all those around me when I, ever so graciously, pardoned my way across the check out lane to the register next to me and grabbed *gasp* the daily newspaper. That was it. I had pressed my luck once too many. I sought sanctuary with the cashier, fumbling to complete the transaction but not even she offered an olive branch as I had commited the unforgivable sin of reading current events... in her check out line no less.

I ran as fast as I could out of the gates of hell, down the long, stretching highway I had weathered. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me until in a startling instant I was back on my path. I took a moment to stop my dizzying mind. The loops and curls of the day had proven too much for me and my newly blonde hair that didn't seem to sparkle quite as brightly now. I didn't like the direction I had chosen. A direction that earlier had seemed so unavoidable, but now in the afterglow of my misery seemed so carelessly unnecessary.

Cautiously I faced myself forward, brushed my yellow hair behind my shoudlers, and kept walking.

Greetings from the dark side

Hello blog-o-sphere!!!

I apologize for my extended absence. Forget about the great crash of '29, let's talk about the great crash of '08. I'm speaking of course about my computer. Yes, after so many semi-faithful years my desktop has bit the big one.

I'm so anxious to get back and talk about all the ridiculous goings-on of my absurd life. Hopefully my tax return will prove large enough to purchase a fancy schmancy new desk top (or dare I say... a laptop...).

Until then peeps!