Seriously?!!?

I am FAR FAR too cynical for Church/Christianity/life?

2008-09-21T21:59:00.001-07:00

Reasons why I am a bad person, version one billion point 0.

Today we did baptisms at my church and several of the kids being baptized were 15 and under in significant except that during our baptisms the associate pastors read a little something inspirational to get the crowd to understand why the participant has chosen to be baptized. The thing that makes me a cynical.evil.person. is that as they were reading the notes of 14 year olds exclaiming how they had gone astray from christ (all kids who grew up in church and have never a. left or b. done ANYTHING remotely "bad," I know, cause I know the kids) by playing sports and hanging out with kids and that this baptism signified there rededication to christ.

Audience: AWWWWWW, sniff, "you go girl!"
cynical.evil.person. internal monologue: WTH has a 14 year old experienced that could even remotely be a re-dedication to christ, in addition to the fact that these KIDS still have a ton of life to live, if the guilt over doing sports and not being perfect starts now they are screwed... why are they making them write dialog when all that needs be said is that they wanted to be baptised and felt it was the time. This is stupid.

I am also a bad person because: I think the mortgage bailout is completely ridiculous and think we should let people who lived outside of their means, deal with the consequences, and the corporations that did the same thing, should be responsible too, and realize they killed their company.

Yes, I am heartless.

I also think the people in Texas that willfully didn't listen to a mandatory evacuation should be charged a fine of $10,000.

I don't care they didn't want to leave... stupidity should a crime.

####

* NEW POST*

2008-09-15T19:58:00.001-07:00

Change in theme for the ol' blog:

The next year is going to follow my travails as I discover more about my faith and things I struggle with:

The first is:
Does Prayer matter? IS it a waste of time?
I am looking to open discussion on the following:

If god is gonna do whatever he wants to anyway--- Why should we pray?

Yes, Jesus prays (he sorta knew the outcome ahead of time) (I can quote the scripture that says he does)
But does prayer change things--- since God has a pre-determined will anyway?
Or is prayer merely a meditate, self-soothing effort by christians to try and communicate to a non-verbal god.
If you have time, I am looking for your deep thoughts?

Definition by Clapton

2008-04-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on the drive to the gym.

OR

A case study in me.

Have you ever heard the song Layla by Eric Clapton. Today I listened to both the unplugged and regular lp version

Most people love that saccharine unplugged version from the early nineties. And don't get me wrong. I LOVE the unplugged version, but for real, it to totally desecrates the song and the way it was meant to be heard. That song is a man's primal wail for acknowledgment from a woman. Unrequited PASSION. That song is emotion. A howl. This man is in love with another man's wife (FYI George Harrison of Beatles fame) and he is just Raw. And I love that. That the wail of the guitar is just mimicing the soul at the time. I don't need the sweet version, with the piano and the box drum, where the emotion is cleaned up and looked at from a distance. Give me the real, raw, ugly part of the song any day, any time.

Which is just a total case study in my personality. I am totally inclined to like things real and messy. Save the sugar for your cereal.

I am on a strange kick with music right now, for the record. Norah Jones, Bonnie Raitt, Eric Clapton, The Stones... I have no idea what the hell is going on in my head, but apparently I am visiting the 70's and I took Norah with me to visit. Now I am off to go beat into my roommates head the importance of Layla and the significance of the stones.

I will break her of this worship music all the time fixation if it kills me. Hope jesus doesn't mind.

P.S. Mom, I am seriously developing an affectation for Charlie Watts of the Stones... granted he is in his late 60's. Do not be alarmed, I am not gonna go all groupie on you... but seriously that man is the best Stone.... damn it.

MATH TIME (for Stephanie the big time Librarian and my friend)

2008-03-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

See if they hit you with these in the reference section:

Question 1:

2 Pre-Schoolers + 2 cupcakes + 1 early morning wake up + 2 foam bats- 1 mommy on vacation = ?

Answer: ONE TIRED Fake-Aunt....Also several minor house injuries

No seriously, in the course of 2 hours, they beat each other with bats, accidentally took out a shelf... ripped up 5 napkins and dismantled their photo albums....It is a wonder I survived.

Question 2

If one has 1 eight pound lasagna is popped out the oven and is 5 feet away cooling in the kitchen and 3 boys visit for for dinner, how much lasagna time does the lasagna need to cool before appropriately eatable
Answer: 0 minutes apparently, even though that can result in 3rd degree burns of the mouth.
Bonus: Estimate the time it took to eat all 8 pounds. *Hint* More than 3 minutes less than 30*

Question 3

If a person has 1 filthy car and a guy friend sees it... how much time will it take before said guy friend takes cars and washes it completely?

Answer: 15 V. JUDGY MINUTES! I swear I haven't gotten a lecture that long since history 101 in college.... I mean really, WASHING THE CAR EVERYWEEK....seems a bit excessive no?

Besos Steph. I only hope in your preggo induced amnesia you remember to stop by the blog.

Superbowl Loss? Check. Seriously Bad Car Issues? Check. Potentially deadly infectious disease? CHECK

2008-02-06T15:49:00.000-08:00

And that friends is a summary of my last few weeks.

Seriously, double you-tee-eff.

Yes, my team lost the Superbowl-- sidenote, possibly the best Superbowl, I have EVER watched, but still sad loss--- and I am not talking about it. But since I waxed so poetic about my team during the season, perhaps the best way to capture the horrific ending is to allow you, my readers to feel my pain. And since I can't figure out how to tape the audio from my MANY MANY voicemail messages, I have decided to link you to a fine site, which pretty much illustrates what people have said to me in the past few days.

www.i-hate-the-new-england-patriots.blogspot.com

I want to take a few moments and say, that is a finely written site, delicious hate, I can only hope to emulate them myself one day with www.suck-it-notre-dame.blogspot.com. But until then, please check them out, they are amusing all the time. And while you check them out imagine hearing all that crap in person for the past 3 days, and you will know my pain.

Car- I don't know what is wrong with it. I have boys to handle that... and once they tell me, rest assured I will promptly forget to tell you about it... but know this... those AAA guys are more than just friendly auto-helpers they also are never scared to hand a girl a hankie bribe her with Dark Chocolate Peanut M&M's when she loses it trying to verbalize what sound the car made when it stopped working. Thanks AAA!!!

SERIOUS INFECTIOUS DISEASE (lets call this an SID for short) yes. Apparently, I have been exposed to one.... stupid roommate (whom I LOOOOOOOOOOVE) has MRSA (pronounced mursa) or at least I am convinced she has MRSA after googling her mysterious symptoms yesterday that or she has been exposed to nuclear radiation... but I think option one is probably more likely.

What did you do? You ask.
Well, I did what any self-respecting, germ-fearing American did. Bleached the hell out of my entire house and nearly caused a building wide exodus with my fervent application of lemon scented anti-bacterial things apparently ammonia and bleach still don't mix... I thought the innovations of the day would solve that (kidding mom, I simply over applied the products... I guess using a whole bottle was overkill, but you know me... KNOWN for my subtlety) Yes, in a panic the likes of which not previously seen by my neightbors, I proceeded to boil water ( I don't know why) I stuck my tooth brush in one set, and my tweezers in another and then another version I boiled everything, even the soap dispenser... (still don't know why, we don't share soap) and then I washed every towel in the house in EXTRA HOT. I still don't feel safe. I am also pretty sure my roommate is gonna kill me because I keep following her around with bleach spray to disinfect after her.

John Mayer Blogs Jessica Simpson.

2008-01-15T23:00:00.000-08:00

And I laugh my ass off.

First off sweet Vindication. There truly is a J.Simp Curse. And never has it been more clear than during that Dallas loss this weekend.

There are several highlights to this blog by John Mayer (who I think is very talented and I am sure is celebrity nice [not to be confused with regular nice as it is typically more narcissistic and false], and I am sure he meant the nice things (re- was slightly inebriated and/or feeling magnanimous) when he wrote this, and blah blah fluckity blah)

DON'T EX WITH TEXAS

Dear Dallas and Surrounding Areas,
This isn't a sports blog, and it isn't a publicity stunt. (but have at me if it feels right.)
This is about doing what I think is right as a person, in this case speaking my mind.
I have never known anyone to have more pride in their home state and their upbringing in it than Jessica Simpson has in Texas. I don't really follow sports, but I have played some of my biggest and best concerts in your state, and having witnessed how dynamic the spirit there is, I'm betting emotions are running high right about now.
All witty barbs, blogs, and fashion policing aside, that girl loves Texas more than you know. It's one of her most defining traits as a person. So please don't try and take that away from her. (You probably wouldn't be able to, but it's less work for all involved.)
I just thought it would mean something coming from the guy who has the absolute least to gain from this. And if I'm out of line in having written it, too bad. I can spare a Wednesday's worth of bad press if it means sticking up for a good soul.
JM

Well, I am convinced. AMERICA, let us adopt J. Simp and make efforts to make her feel better (I wonder, where the America Cares for Jess Fund, should go...) but before I do...

A few notes:

*This loss is ALL on Mr. Romo, honestly the week before a post-season game, where you choked last year, MAYBE... you spend time reading the play book and spend less time frolicking for photographers. However, if you are gonna go frolic for the photogs, you make damn sure you win. (See, Brady, Tom. His ability to dump pregnant actresses, switch to Victoria's Secret Models, and still stay America's Golden Boy, probably has to do with his ability to win.... and maybe his ability to be commandingly good-looking)

But really, nobody can really have been surprised at the backlash, unless you haven't read a newspaper in like, I dunno, a few years. You wanna play celebrity. Deal with the perks and the crap. ALSO, what the FLUCK is wrong with celebrities, you claim you don't want to get photographed and then you go to quick lunches in Beverly Hills and Hollywood, try living in GLENDALE or PASADENA or going to places where photogs aren't gonna hunt you like a rabid dog--- spare me your "I am super surprised that photographers are HERE on Robertson, I mean, who could have predicted that one other than every grocery line reader of US Weekly.

** Ahem, Mr. Mayer. The guy who has the least to gain from this is probably NOT gonna be a fellow celebrity with a blog. I could also be wrong on this, perhaps a contest on who has the least to gain from this... but PERHAPS, if people (re: you, Mr. Mayer) would just leave things alone, instead of I DUNNO bring it up on a well-read celebrity blog (You, KNOW that blog is gonna end up on Perez or Faded Youth or whatever, just because you wrote it!) after the fact, it would probably fade quickly.... what with Britney losing her mind on a daily basis, I am sure people would have something else to talk about.

*** There is no negotiating with Rabid Sports fans... If they blame Simpson, they are gonna blame Simpson, maybe she will just suck it up like a big girl, and accept that all people, EVERYWHERE aren't gonna lover her. Who freaking CARES. Since I assume, this blog took Mr. Mayer, 4 minutes to write, I won't point out that that 4 minutes could have been used to use his "celebrity" to raise money or awareness for actual causes, like Cancer or AIDS or World Hunger...okay, maybe I will. AIDS, CANCER, HOMELESS, how about tossing those blog writing efforts over that away, Mr. Mayer. No? I guess you have a point, I mean why help the needy, when you sir can be busy saving the J.Simp from her long (ahem, 1 day) national nightmare of being unloved in Texas. (insert, sarcastic eye roll here)

**** The funny: her love for Texas is so great, she took a QB that she already knew had PR problems from her attendance at the Eagles Game, down on a quick vacation a few days before a play-off game to a city where CELEBRITIES ARE FREAKING KNOWN TO FREQUENT, WHERE PHOTOGS ARE KNOWN TO WORK AND THEN HAS PUBLIC OUTINGS. Conspiracy Theory: She secretly loves the Houston Texans and is using her powers of destruction to bring down the Cowboys from the inside.

***** Also, we should be nice to her cause she loves Texas? WTF. How about lay-off her cause it isn't her fault her boyfriend couldn't do his job, that is probably more legit. Is Mr. Mayer afraid they are gonna revoke her Texan Card, are all the Dallas Fans gonna put up wanted Dead or Alive posters. Please.

****** (this is a lot of asterisks) But My Favorite Part is: Her defining personality trait is a "love for Texas" How. Freaking. Interesting. This says a ton about her personality doesn't it, please people don't remember her for being kind, loving, a good listener, an excellent l cook, a christian, a good reader, talented. NO. Remember her, cause she likes Texas. Special.

Strange things about me.

2008-01-08T22:23:00.000-08:00

What.
Yes, I have nothing relevant to say.
Yes, this is a self-absorbed post.

It's a blog. Deal.

1. I like mini reeces pb cups, but don't like the big version and won't eat said big cups. This mini candy thing also applys to snickers bars, love the mini, hate the full size.

2. I don't like cream cheese on sweet bagels, but do on onion, garlic or plain bagels.

3. I *HATE* wrapping presents. 99% of the gifts I give out, come in gift bags.

4. My Ex, got me the Patriots 3 Superbowl wins on DVD for my birthday and I even though I love the Patriots, I can't bring myself to watch the dvd's

5. I currently have a pink tea kettle, a pink coffee carafe that travels and a pink gym bag, I should probably mention, I don't really like pink.

6. In the past year, I have found myself on accidental dates at leasat 3 times. Accidental dates area when you figure out about, eh, halfway in that "hanging out" was really code for date.

7. I LOVE scones. Plain ones, but get irritated when people try to give me maple, chocolate or otherwise dessert like scones.

8. I have eaten at Panera 3 times in the past 6 days.

9. I seem to attract guys between the ages of 20-25, but NONE in the 27 age bracket... strange.

10. I have never done a drug, but I sometimes think it's because the economics involved. I mean, come on, I can buy shoes or drugs. Shoes win EVERYTIME.

11. I like reading blogs and message boards better than cnn, bbc and/or latimes online. I think MSM often gets the news ALL Wrong... and get it later than the blogs do, funny, since I have a B.A. in Journalism.

12. My best friend from HS, talk like once a year, but she still cracks me up and we still do the same thing we did 9 years ago, eat chips and drink diet coke, and then make fun of daytime television then bitch that we are getting fat and decide to do approx 2 runs up her stair set and collapse.... never change Mich! NEVER CHANGE.

13. I only wear ankle socks, INLESS it is nighttime, then soccer socks are okay.

14. I only use white hangers, and can tell if my roommate has been wearing my clothes based on if any hangers are off colored at all.

15. I will not eat American cheese. In fact, the only orange cheese I will eat is sharp cheddar. I also will not eat iceberg lettuce, it is a useless "vegetable" and I refuse to buy it.

Because I got a million questions about this

2008-01-04T16:34:00.000-08:00

For those who keep asking for the recap of the my chats with the boys, the convos went remarkably like this:

"jaaaaaaaase, he sucks and I don't understand why he gets to be happy first, shouldn't he still feel guilty"
Jase- "Huh, boys don't feel guilt like that, compartmentalize baby, you can do it besidesyou are still pretty, and you didn't pull anything crazy on him, you are awesome, don't worry about it, you have great boobs, definately marriage worthy"

"but. I am so mad"

Jase- "that's just cause you are jealous, besides, you don't want that dude, he sucks--- I don't like him, and you can't date people I don't like.."

"but jaaaaaaaaaaase."

Jase- "you know what, from now on, I am just gonna have an interview process before guys can date you, if they pass the credit and personality checks, you can go get coffee with him.... this will save me time"

"like the F.B.I?"

Jase- "right except scarier... I should TOTALLY market this idea"

"Fine, but I get to vet the your girlfriends"

Jase- "sure, but you like Jenny"

"true, if you dump her, I might actually kill you"

Jase- "fair enough, but let the record show, I never actually "date" crazy people like you do. I do spend fun weekends making out with them, you could try that, but I think your mom might kill me"

###

Me- "I am irrationally rage-filled right now"

J- "so, still a girl eh."

Me- "Shut up, he has no business being happy before me"

J- "You're being silly just go back to being happy for him, and happy for you, I PROMISE the next guy will be better.... now come help me build an ark... I hate rain"

Me- "okay, but we must have comfort seating"

J- "And porn."

Me- "you are so weird"

I wish I believed in Karma. Or why I am experience delayed Rage.

2008-01-03T20:57:00.000-08:00

So. I have whole periods where I forget that the whole issue with the Ex happened, and just remember he has always been one of my best friends.

Then I get phone calls from our mutual friends (who don't know about the train wreck) about how great he is to the new girl, and how new girl is SUPER SUPER THE BESTEST EVAAAA and his happy happy life now--all I can think is wow,now that I have less of a presence in his life, everything is just cupcakes, and roses and blah. And. I . Get. Mega. Pissed. I mean, cause I was nothing but kind, supportive and fun during a hard time in his life.... and he took that and threw it away like it was trash... which is where the anger comes in.

Pissed enough to hope this new girl, does to him, what he did to me. Which is SO. NOT. GRACE. LIKE. (I said, I forgave him so, I will FORGIVE HIM dang it. even if I am forgivng DAILY until 2009) I usually have to force myself to go work out for a minimum of 1 hour before I can calm myself down back to a zen moment of "okayity." Then I can say a short prayer for The Ex and move along.

But today was one of those days, that I wished Karma existed and it would come back and get the ex. I guess, I have no reason to want it, esp. since karma is a vicious cycle that will eventually get everyone, so it would only hurt me long term. But, I wish he felt as bad and stupid like i do, when I consider, I thought he really cared about me. I hate feeling stupid, I hate feeling like I should have known better and I HATE HATE that I didn't do anything wrong, I was just me and that wasn't good enough. Me, is not good enough. So I hit the gym for some much needed circuit training, and then 30 minutes of the stairmaster, 20 minutes of eliptical and 10 minutes of biking. (yes, I am a gym-junkie) It (plus one long bitchfest with JASE and J.... I love my boys*) brought me back down.

I think the delayed rage comes from fear. Even though I don't want to be with the Ex and I do look forward to the day when we can just go back to being us (which we do v. well when we talk on the phone or see each other and do horrible when we are not. The fear that *I* will never find someone, whilst the boy who treated me not so nice (not actually mean, but not so nice either) will have the perfect relationship with the girl he picked over me. The perfect life, the perfect relationship, the perfect anything, and I will just be the stupid girl he thought he cared about but was actually just using as a placeholder until something better came along.

Uh. I think I need to go back to the gym. Thank god for 24 hour fitness.... all hours for working out baby. I am feeling a run on the treadmill... tommorrow I will be more grace-giving, just as soon as I run it off today. (I have, however, lost 5 pounds of fat and gained 3 pounds of muscle.)

Happy 2008 All.

Addendum--Please DO NOT be confused ALL... I do not want to be with my ex... any guy that would throw me away once would do it again and I am not a glutton for punishment... but really, I should have mattered a *little* bit more than the way it all went down.

Finally, the government does something for me!

2007-12-26T15:47:00.000-08:00

After "the NFL had faced mounting pressure from politicians in recent weeks to make the (Patriots v. Giants) game available to more viewers." (CNN.Com/si) , Roger Godell has agreed to let the Game be simulcast on CBS and NBC this Sunday.

YAY, Senators, you aren't saving me on taxes, I sure as hell can't afford good healthcare, we seem to be in the middle of an unwinable war, and stand on the brink of a economic collapse with no solutions to the quaqmire that is immigration, the schools are falling apart and the kids aren't okay. But by god, I will have my football.

Seriously- EFF You.

2007-12-23T10:13:00.000-08:00

So. I talked to the Ex yesterday. Doing a little briefing and pr spin for mutual friends that don't know of the train wreck that is us. We talked about random crap, stories from my life, his life, what he got the new girl, and how he went to meet her parents and has to plan events for his friends/her friends.

I got off that phone SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO irritated. I mean, don't get me wrong, I forgive my ex for being an absolute ass to me, but really, hearing all the ways he is going out of his way for the new girl, just irritates me. Like, WTF, could you have treated me any worse. Plus, I got to hear about how she is worried about me.... because I sat in his car. BECAUSE I SAT IN HIS MOTHEREFFING CAR. I promptly hung up the phone and lost his number, because for real, after everything that I put up with from his punk ass, he should be thankful for ANY second of time I give him, let alone, have to deal with his new girlfriend worried about us being friends AND hear about how NG likes puppies so he gave her a puppy book.

I am calling for a hiatus of all things the ex for 2008 (at least the first quarter of 2008). I deserve a better friend than one who is busy buying puppy books and undervaluing me. SUPER SAD.

I also met a hot boy, who speaks flawless spanish and is hilarious. Lets hope new boy calls.

Posted

2007-12-06T12:56:00.000-08:00

F.Y.I
My Hair--- Full and GLOSSY
My Skin--- Luminious
My Guilt Flowers--- Blooming.
My Ass--- Still Perky!
My Ex---still feeling bad and still freaking LUCKY, I flove him and didn't let numerous friends beat him senseless (again, thanks awesome friends)

I dedicate this post to my Skippy (tips diet coke to her!)

Anyhow, an alarming trend came to my attention yesterday. Men staking their claim on specific areas and marking them with CREEPY. Example, my dear friend Elizabeth is a fairly nice girl (clearly different peoples here) Not really prone to overreaction, drama or anger (unless you wake her up before 10 a.m.... and/or you don't let her get Starbucks) So imagine my surprise when she calls me stating that she has to find a new gas station (apparently NOT a Valero, because cheap gas makes the BF mad), a new bank and possibly a new freeway to drive because of one CREEEEPY dude who has taken it upon himself to follow her around and drop delicious come on lines like "man, your eyes are blue" and or "F**& you are hot" whilst learing at her blue sweater. I mean, SWOOON, I am surprised she didn't stop RIGHT there and call the BF, who thinks she walks on water and will do insane things like buy her snow chains for ONE weekend drive, and tell him she found her TRUE winner. Because really, nothing is better than minding your own business at a gas station and having a dude get all up in your personal space and offer such pearls of sexiness as "F*&* you are hot." The best part is, this dude is apparently POSTED at the Shell Station, just dropping bombs like that on unsuspecting women.

I have no idea why that man is single.

Just like I have no idea why this fine specimen is alone.
Scene- Bank
Lady walks up to the ATM- "HEY, pretty, wanna play teller with me"

Nope, no idea.

So I propose a happy medium to those trying to just cement a creepy area. Please mark your bank, gas station, Starbucks with a giant ORANGE cone and a whistle that periodically blows to clear the area. This will allow all women to decide ahead of time if they want to deal with you ish. Perhaps business owners can get involved, offering discounts to women who decide to brave the creepy.

See. Happy mediums can be achieved.
Now if people could just leave my poor skippy alone, she is running out of gas stations.

These are a few of my FAVORITE THINGS.

2007-12-05T14:31:00.000-08:00

1. My Friends Jason and James.... who have been nothing but HILARIOUS during a painful stupid time in my life. And who have promised to buy me the kitchen aid mixer of my dreams when I finally do find a boy they deem worthy of me dating.

2. Senor Fish street tacos.... carne asada, you do me so well!

3. Gracie and Daniel Latshaw- is it possible to love someone else kids so much you just wanna SQUEEZE them all the time. The answer is YES. A resounding, YES.

4. All things Victoria's Secret!!
5. Shortbread cookies!

That is all.

P.S. In other news, closure.... is a motherfracking myth. BS.
P.S.S. I do enjoy my flowers though.

Tap into the Source.

2007-12-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

Hello, faithful blog readers!

Well, as you have been following the blog for the past couple of months, you might have noticed that I got involved with one of my boys, "THE EX", and it was disasterous.

This weekend, we talked. He told me he is seeing someone.

And I felt.

FINE.

No, seriously, fine. Having a month break for us was good. Because it gave a lot of clarity to what we do well, Friendship, and what we fluck up royally, Dating. We are not when harry met sally, at all, we are more... Joey and Rachel from Friends. Timing. TIMING. Timing.

Well, anyways, storytime. He came over last night because he wanted to answer any questions I might have, appologize, etc. I was SO FREAKING NERVOUS when he came to the door. I was afraid. V. Afaid. I would open the door and feel a rush of romantic feelings for him. Like wanting to kiss him or hug him or anything. But I felt peaceful. Like, man I have missed you kiddo. so much. But no desire or attraction to him whatsoever. Which up until last week, I probably would have. We talked, he cried, and I listened. I listened and listened and listened some more. and after he appologized for the 15th time. I looked at him.

REALLY looked at him. I knew that he meant what he said, he really did hate himself for hurting me. Like actually HATE himself, think he was worthless and awful. And just a horrible fuck up of a person... but all I saw was

the boy who once sat on the phone with me for 45 minutes while at work (avoiding several bosses!!) because some other boy had said something mean to me. The boy who drove 45 minutes out of his way, to get me french fries because I wanted them and was sad. The boy who once explained a full 60 minute football game while it was ON, because I was confused. The same guy who has always told me I am beautiful and smart and deserved nothing but the best. And then I remembered. I have loved him for 6 v. long years, and 4 months of ick, doesn't change that.

So I forgave him and then I told him- It was time and okay to forgive himself. He made a mistake. We made a mistake in thinking we could force a very beautiful friendship and attraction into a romantic commitment. The "idea" of us, is so great. It is just the reality that is. You know. Not as much.

It feels really, really good to forgive someone, who doesn't deserve it and can't earn it. It feels like I gave out Christmas early. Because, I am totally and utterly justified in despising him and no one, NOT ONE FRIEND, would judge me if I decided what was best for me, was to never ever speak his name again. Acutally most of my friends, wouldn't judge me if I called them to bury the freaking body. (I have AWESOME friends)

But I don't feel that way at all. I feel like the foundation of our friendship is deep enough and strong enough for us to rebuild. I feel like, I am actually happy he met a girl that sparks his interest even if that girl isn't me. I feel super grateful, that I was able to dig deep enough to love him right where he is, regardless of if he hurt me, and I feel more myself than I have felt in a long long time. Strange things. Part of me sits and questions myself. I wonder if I am really okay.... because it feels like I shouldn't be. But then I think it all through all over again. And I am. Apparently. I am way stronger and way bigger than I thought I could be.

I guess the story really comes down to this:
He is completely flucked up.
He might always be
I love him very much anyways.

I am pretty sure this is what they meant by "We love because he first loved us...."
God is good.
The End.

All Brady's were not created equal

2007-11-15T22:08:00.000-08:00

I went to the University of Oregon... and if I may rant ont he following:
Brady Leaf is a disgrace to the name BRADY.
He should be thrown off the football team and sent back to whatever backwoods he came from.
WTF is wrong with my school and the coaches.

This is the first and last time I will ever say this---

A BRADY MURDERED FREAKING FOOTBALL HOPES FOR THE WEEK.
bring me his head!!!
Fortunately... I still have this to keep me happy at night:

BABY I STILL LOVE YOU.
But we at the blog, spit upon the other Brady and hence forth shall call him Peyton Leaf.

I love cookbooks

2007-11-14T20:04:00.000-08:00

Even though, I sorta don't have all the magical cookware and/or the ability to afford the fancy ingredients to make good food. Which is why i wanna go to the library and borrow the new Nigella Express book, it apparently has fancy pants food for ingredients I can get at Vons. Exciting.

This week my sports stress starts again.

Oregon plays tommorrow, and we are in ride or die for the National Game. I hope we Win, ala my Patriots, decisively with an absolute disregard for opponents.

In other news, SUCK IT INDIANA.

I don't like the Chargers, but dang if I wasn't rooting them on last Sunday. Really. Peyton. 6 Interceptions. Bad Calls by the Refs... you don't say.

BWHAHAHAHA.
That is all.

Stages of Grief

2007-11-09T19:24:00.000-08:00

I debated whether or not, I would write about this. Mostly, because I have a policy of keeping this blog frothy and fun, but part of me knows that when I write this I might have people try and force me to talk about something, I just don't want to talk about. And I don’t want to hear about how you were right and I was wrong or how awful he is or blah blah blah. So do me a favor, leave it alone. And let the post be.
***
When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that you can in fact cry for 18 hours straight without running out of tears. And that sometimes, people just can't stick, even though they want to. I learned that you can stay in a room for hours and eye the door and the tick of a clock like enemy troops moving ever closer to you. I realized you can spend an enormous amount of time memorizing stupid things, like the order of cd's on the wall and count the blinds hoping that you can bring your mind back to it, like remembering the small details makes anything or everything easier. And that doing the right thing can be the hardest thing. When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that you can blame everyone and you can blame yourself, but that doesn't change the reality. Things are falling horribly apart. And there is not a damn thing you can do to stop it.

I hate this.

More than I ever thought possible I hate this.

I fell for the wrong boy or maybe the right boy and the wrong time. Which I guess ultimately, makes him the wrong boy.

The boy and I, we tried to make it work. I guess that is the clincher huh, when you have to try to make something work, it won't work for long. I know he wanted to be the man I wanted, or the man I needed, or the man he thought I deserved even though all I was asking for was him. But in the end, as he sat there in the dark waning light of day filtering through 21 blinds, all that was left was him telling me that he can't. He just can't. And not because of me or something I did, or that he didn't want to. He just can't. Because there is this hole in him that can't be fixed and now he feels like the only thing to do is be alone for a while and see what is out there. Learn about himself. Find himself. Because he isn't whole. I bet you didn't know; someone can fall hard for half a man, just like I bet you didn't know you can cry for 18 hours and still not run out of tears.

When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that pity or even kindness even in the hands of friends, feels a lot like a loaded gun. Heavy. Unbearably loud. Deadly.

So I sat there, I cried there, we cried there. Tangled up. Watching the door, listening to clocks, in a vacuum of time, in light sleep, alternately pretending everything is okay and figuring out how to adjust forever to slivers of time. Whispers seem to pop like bubbles. "I love you" "I know" "I'm so sorry" "I know" "I hate you" "I know" "this isn't over" "okay" "I love you" "I know"

When it all falls horribly apart.

You start to wonder what was real and what was your clouded perception of reality. And you start to count backwards, looking for the last perfect day. The day when you didn’t know this was coming.

Until suddenly you find yourself staring at a door, you know you have to open, standing next to the boy you never wanted to lose, breathing and convincing yourself, to leave. Hand on the doorknob, hot like there is a fire on the other side, leave. Leave. Go on Go. Tears seem to still be so easy. You really can cry for 18 hours straight, so you give yourself one horrible, wonderful moment, to just breathe. A million things said, a million things you won’t get to say. Three (ask me to stay), two (tell me to go), one (please be okay) Leave. Push him away and run, run down out of the house, down the street, run.

When it all falls horribly apart.

SWEET MOTHER!!!

2007-11-04T22:46:00.000-08:00

WE WON. WE WON. WE WON!

BARELY.

It was close.

But all I have to say is...

In Brady We Trust! (And by Brady, I mean Brady, Moss, Welker, Stalworth and Co.... thanks boys, I love you all- but I don't have photos of all of you)

P.S. Randy Moss's one handed catch was the thing of football DREAMS!
P.S.S. SUCK it Indiana!
P.S.S.S. Navy beat Notre Dame for the first time in DECADES.
P.S.S.S.S. SUCK IT INDIANA!

HATE

2007-10-31T20:21:00.000-07:00

Well there is no other way around it.

It is time for a hate post.

Without further ado...the top 5 (ahem 6... I edited in the AM) things I hate right NOW.

1. (sports) But But BUT... the patriots are mean and they run up the score. That is ALL I heard this weekend post the Redskins game. Can I ask, when did football players become tiny little babies that need there widdle feelings protected. Bitch, this ain't high school football anymore. You are paid more than most people make in a lifetime to play football.. .suck it up. You don't want to lose by 45 freaking points. Send the defense out there, and tell them to defend. You remember the point of defense right, their job is to make sure the other team doesn't make points. You can't hang, then get the fluck out of the league. Don't cry to me because your team can't do their jobs.

2. (books) SCREW YOU Greg Behrendt. Screw you and your book "he's just not that into you" I now have a complex. So lemme get this straight, if he isn't calling you constantly, stalking you, having sex with you, and/or rubbing your feet all the time. He is just not that into you. I swear this book is gonna ruin more good relationships than help any woman.

3. (teenagers) PUT SOME CLOTHES ON. And don't run over the babies while they are trick or treating... it is trick or treat, not look like a trick night. I almost SMACKED a slutty cheerleader who ran over the twins today. I wonder if it is bad to beat a 15 year old senseless for pushing over a toddler. Cause if it is.... prep the bail money. Nobody hurts my gracie-pie.

4. (myspace) Well, that isn't true. It isn't you myspace, it is me. I hate you for turning me into a neurotic foolio. I need to just delete the damn page.

5. (music) Can a girl get a song that isn't... I am in love with a stripper, bartender, carwasher, et. AL. Remember when music was made because something needed to be said. It is like every relevant comment that could be made was made in 1999. And now, all there is... is the same trite crap over and over. I need to not listen to the radio.

EDIT 6. (I blame the teenagers) TEXT/IM grammer. What is not spelled wut. Are you people trying to kill me with this. I got a text from a friends kid (I guess kid is relative since he is legal to drink in all 50) brother that literally read: Wut r u up 2? Oh my sweet LORD above. Just seeing that makes me hate. HATE. I am now refusing to read messages that are spelled like a third grader would. It makes me want to throw something. At your head. Read with me. What, You, Are, To ALL EASY WORDS TO SPELL. Please for me. I am elderly, please try.

That is all.

The Rule of Law

2007-10-18T22:48:00.000-07:00

Pay attention Mini. And Mini Mini. And assorted members of the country. I am a big believer in Rules.

No not that insipidly uninspired "the rules" book. My rules. Rules that make sense, rules that inspire.
So with no further ado a short list of life rules.

1. In times of crisis, ladies put on your big girl panties and deal, wasting time crying over spilt milk, lets spilt milk stain your shoes. No one got anywhere crying in the shower, well except Mariah Carey, but a trip to crazy camp ain't all it is cracked up to be.

2. Never touch a football player. STD's are one step away from superbug status. Be it so resolved that this rule, doesn't include our beloved Tom Brady. Whom we would risk any superbug for.

3. Although it is tempting to believe otherwise. BOYS SHOULD CHASE GIRLS. the other way around sucks.

4. Like dear Posh Spice has instructed us. Ass out. Tits away. Tits out Ass away. Looking like a cheap hooker is never okay. (ahem, I stand corrected, it is okay IF you are actually a cheap hooker)

5. Friends don't let friends wear glitter before noon (Amanda, Ugly Betty)

6. Any friend of Indiana is no friend of yours.

7. If you wear a double digit size (NO SHAME) but also No COW PRINT. Frankly, try to stay away from animal print period as your main piece... one wants to look fashionable not herdable.

8. HEEL TOE. Ladies, the correct way to wear heels is HEEL/TOE. Clomping around just makes others wish you were in flats. Think more Gisele less Godzilla.

9. I don't care what you saw in the magazine. Mom jeans, weren't meant for anyone who hasn't birthed a child. TRUST ME here. Mom jeans are the new skinny, don't do it.

10. Apparently, young America needs this rule (stupid Britney) ALWAYS wear underwear when hundreds of photographers are waiting for you to hop out of your car in a mini dress. In fact in general, always wear underwear when wearing a mini dress. Commando is for army people. Are you in camouflage? Are you in the army? No. then go buy some VS.

Thank you. That is all. Come Again.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

2007-10-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

The GOOD-

Glory be, it has been a stupendous couple of weeks in Football.

I LOVE a good upset... unless of course it happens to me, then I hate it passionately.

And in College Football, this has been possibly the most EFFED UP SEASON EVER. People can't stay on top longer than 2 weeks, tiny insignificant teams are taking the big kids to task, it has been MARVELOUS.

Sadly, because of the issue mentioned before, I haven't been able to TRULY enjoy the upsets because none of my friends like football like I do. ARGH

I think I should start a separate blog for football.....I could even have guest writers (Nic, Meg, ladies?) Girls guide to football. This may help me get my friends to appreciate CAL going down to OSU, and the absolute deliciousness that is the NE Patriots taking a team to task. MEOW!

The EVIL-

FLUCKING LOS ANGELES. Yet, another reason to hate the stupid Chargers. Instead of watching the Patriots v. Cowboys (both 5-0) slugfest, I am stuck watching the Raiders/Chargers game. Well I would if I wasn't protesting the stupidity of not getting the option of watching a good game and being forced to watch 2 sub-par teams play crapily.

An Actual Convo in my head this week-
ME- "You know, I still haven't gotten my apology phone call from the Ex, I think maybe I should start rooting for USC to start losing."
Inner Self- "ooooh, yes revenge, nothing hurts a man quicker than his teams losing."
ME- Checks schedule. "oh, they play Notre Dame next week.... "
Inner Self- "Yes, he was stupid, you should embrace the Notre Dame, they need another win and issuing a spanking to SC would be super sweet, just one let hurray... every fan counts during football, do it. Root for NOTRE DAME, it will be sweet vindication... you know"
ME- "I could do it. I could root for Notre...I... WHA... WHAT THE FLUCK. NOTR--- Notre Dame. SNAP OUT OF IT INNER SELF. Rooting for an Indiana Team is THE NUCLEAR OPTION. We don't go there, unless it is to save our dear mama's life (love you ma!)
Inner Self- "good god, I need to lie down, I don't know what came over me. I feel super dirty, it was the diet coke, I must have cracked a bad case." (checks can) "see I can't be faulted your roommate bought diet pepsi, I was out of my mind."
ME- S'Alright Inner Self. You are forgiven, now just repeat after me... suck it Indiana, Whilst I get you a fresh can of the good stuff.

###

Let this be a lesson to you kids, NEVER EVER MISTAKE DIET PEPSI for the good stuff, it causes you to flail about thinking stupid thoughts like a drunk fool.

I like them tall, hot and emotionally unavailable!

2007-10-10T12:18:00.000-07:00

Sexy title, no?

How sad it is compeletely COMPLETELY true.

Story time.

Those of you long term readers to the blog, you remember my boys. "The Boys" My trifecta of awesome, my beacon of reason, this past couple of months I made the critical error in judgement by getting into that effed up tango of "will we or won't we," messed up, make-out, I like you/I don't, with the ONE of my boys who I shouldnt' have started that dance with: The Ex. The Ex, whose girlfriend of 4 something years up and decided one day last year that she needed to be free to fly or find herself or some crap. And in the proccess, EFFED HIM UP BEYOND REASON. FUBAR my friends. He is FUBAR.

And I absolutely tried to look around it, I wasn't trying to force him to Girlfriend status, so I figured we could just have fun with what it was. HA. I am SO freaking stupid at times, I amuse myself.

It all blew up in my face this weekend. As he sat there on my couch telling me how he loved me, and thought I was amazing, he was so happy when he was with me and we just connect physically but he couldn't romantically connect with me but he someday could see himself with me... maybe but he loved me, blah blah blah. I am STILL not sure WTF that means. Oh Wait! I know what it means... "E-M-O-T-I-O-N-A-L-L-Y unavailable"

At first I thougth it was me. I am unloveable. I am unconnectable. Then I realized...(with the help on not one but 2- two hour conversations with Jase and a flurry of emails with James) it isn't me. I am awesome, and he is stupid. Really. REALLY stupid.

So now, here I am 5 days later (which seems like a record time, but let's be frank blog, I am too old to be living this break-up ish out and holding on to something that is stupid) and we are at an interesting point.

James helped me realize, I am okay. And really, I am. I am so over it. Which seems odd, but I know there is someone way better out there for me (Tom Brady can you hear me?) and he is really gonna regret losing me (thanks Nicole.) And it is cool, I am down for a break from the ups and downs with him... But I wish we could just get here-

The Ex avoids me for weeks on end.

Finally calling, so I can tell him dude, you messed up, you lost any chance of EVER being with me and you have been a selfish/stupid bastard for the past 6 months and you need to get right. Maybe there is a little bit of me being like DUDE... NEVER mention your stupid emotional issues to me again and start treating me like the PRIZE FRIEND, I AM. (Jason does this by always taking me to Disneyland)
He says sorry. A LOT.
Takes my ass to Seaworld, finds Tom Brady and introduces me to him and we all live happily ever after. Well, I live happily ever after. The Ex finds a girl not nearly as awesome as me, and lives somewhat happily ever after.

Let's all hope he gets his head out of his ass (all I am waiting for is a big ass apology) sooner rather than later so I can go to SeaWorld and meet Tom Brady.

I am going to see Avenue Q

2007-10-09T14:35:00.000-07:00

Yay.

Theater.

I will tell you how it goes.

Stupid Football.

2007-10-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

Ladies and Gents, can anyone tell me when I became a sports freak.

Yes. A sports freak.

You know for the past couple of years, I have been ESPN Sportscenter watching, trashtalking, supergirly (i.e. I can only tell you what the cute players do on the field, I don't know nor do I want to know what a "center" does in Football other than stand somewhere in the center) sports fan.

Then this weekend, it all fell apart.

You know I have (had :( super sad) always prided myself on not being an UBER fan- you know one whose whole weekend collapses when your team does loses. All until the stupid CAL v. Oregon Game this weekend. (P.S. I am still in Mourning)

Here in LA, everything EVERYWHERE is USC, SC, USC all the time. You know how annoying it is when some boy/girl whose trust fund is paying for college, screams FIGHT ON in your face with that insipid peace sign they do... and then proclaims themselves to be the greatest school, football team, student body, color in the history of ever, and then makes fun of you for putting yourself through college at the University of Oregon, because you clearly aren't smart enough because if you were you would have gone to USC. SIDENOTE- Nothing good ever came out of USC, except maybe you know Scott's degree, and I am willing to give some latitude to Nicole, but she still might come to her senses and transfer. So I was pretty excited to see that my school's big game would be featured on TV and ESPN, and were finally good enough to shut up some of the SC students.

Things I learned this weekend: Sports can kill fans. Watching that game, I had what I liken to the sports fan heart failure, you know the one where you feel like you are going to pass out, your vision blurs and then miraculously you recover, in time for it to happen again... I wonder how many times a day your body can survive that. Anyway,it was an awful game in that it was a really good game, with a chance at either team winning. I fraking hate games like that. I like to WIN, I don't care if it is a good game, or an outright spanking winning makes me happy. (Ahem Thank the good lord above my NFL team is the Patriots. Everytime, I think I am done with Football and taking up Golf... my boys pull me back in by issuing a spanking to opponents. It melts a girls heart EVERY. SINGLE. TIME)

And here is the other thing with me, when it is a close game like that I get super invested. When I know outright my team can't win unless an act of god occurs, then I just have fun watching, but yeah. I like winning. And that game was horrible to watch because it was super close the entire time, my poorbody didn't get a break.

And then we lost. It was horrifyingly maddeningly frustrating, I told Scott I was giving up Football, I took the condolence calls from friends, and pretty much hated all of Saturday and the only thing that broke me of my post game depression was the twins patting my hands telling me "s'okay," and trying to force feed me their fruit snacks, they are the cutest 3 year olds on the planet!

My friend John, called and took me out to break me out of my post-game funk. And sadly, you know it is bad when a cute boy can't break you out of your WHY, LORD, WHY my team mentality. I tried to warn him I am like a boy when it comes to football, and bless him he tried to keep my mind off of it.... which he did until he told me he was rooting for CAL. And then I was bitter again. (ha, still love ya' john! although NEVER tell me you are rooting for the opposing team again)

Then I got home, and was still bitter and Scott had to talk me down from the season is over, I hate everything but golf cliff. HA.

What the crap is wrong with me.

Well... I don't want this to be downer blog so here are 5 silver linings to end on a high note:

1. Notre Dame 0-5, BWHAHAHAHAH, SUCK IT INDIANA. (Mom, 0-5 means zero wins and 5 loses!!!)
2. Fall Retreat is happening, and I am going... super happy
3. Patriots still Winning.
4. Chargers still losing... BWHAHAH, the fans (re: Brian from Boxing) might have wanted to dial back the trash talking next year
5. I got a stunning new shirt for fall, consider me sold on that Green trend.

Q/A with ME!

2007-09-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

Ah... some of you may have noticed, I have stopped publishing comments on the blog.. mostly because I kept accidentally deleting the emails on my new entourage program. So to make it up to my loyal, funtastic readers... I have taken it upon myself to answer five of the deep, well thoughtout questions that were thrown to me this week!

###

Lets get the piviotal must answer questions out of the way.

Q: Now that the Patriots have been accused and convicted of cheating, will you still support the team? (various people EVERYwhere)
A: A valid question, I mean the blog hates cheating. Well, techincally the blog doesn't so much hate cheating as despise those stupid enough to get caught. If you are going to do something stupid, we expect, nay demand, you do it well. But when considering this question, I asked myself several questions but the most important one was: Does Tom Brady still look like this--

Yes. Well then-question answered. I am not leaving that anytime soon.

Q: How can you love Tom Brady, he knocked up his baby mama, and then DUMPED her for a Victoria's Secret model? (Jody, Poolside)
A: Thanks, Jody, for bring up a tough period in my Tom Brady love... but I ask you consider this:
Ah, shall we just consider this question is answered. No? Okay, here is the thing. No man should have to resist a Victoria's Secret model. I mean, I can't really fault him there. You must always ALWAYS protect your man from running into a Giesele or Adrianna, those greeks knew what they were talking about when they refered to Sirens.

Q: Is that a real conversation with your mom? (Nicole, IM)
A: Yes, for the most part that is an exact conversation with my mom; who has a freaking homing device for when I am watching a football game. My mom is a genius when it comes to teaching, cultural references, dance and tribal drumming (yeah, I know weird) but put her in front of a tv that is playing a sporting event, she has the attention span of a 2 year old. well maybe not the attention span (those babies can FOCUS on Dora the Explorer), maybe the interest of a 2 year old... or the interest a straight man shows when you start discussing: shoes, makeup, the girl in the cubical next door, etc?

Q: How if your mom hated football, did you ever get into it? Also, do you know your Tom Brady love scares me slightly. (one of the boys)
A: College, my friend. Nothing gets me interested in a sport faster than a hot man. I lived in the dorms for athletes my freshman year.... which meant every person I hungout with was an athlete, and consequently meant, everyone I dated was an athlete. While I learned quick, college football players are bad bad news (<--- SEE THIS NICOLE... I have my eyes on you... no touching the football players!) I kept that football love alive. You can thank my boys for that. I had to watch or be interested in because that is what Jase would do on the weekends. On that note--- Go DUCKS!

Q: Was your roommate drunk in that call? (Wilson, lunch)
A: Yes, she was drunk, we don't regularly call each other at 3 a.m. esp, since we live like 15 feet apart. But that convo is often what ish gets said at our house. Case in point- The roomie's career plan before lesbian club go-go dancer was to be a dog photographer and/or a capri sun tester. These plans always seem to be announced late at night, which says to me... I NEED to start turning my phone to silent.

And now a message from my roommate

2007-09-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

3:00 a.m.

Phone
Me- "uh, wha, who... lo?"
Roomie- "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Hi. I wantchu to know something. I have made a decishun"
Me- "huh, are you dead?"
Roomie- "I decided I am gonna be one of those go-go dancers at the lesbian dance club. Show those bitches what they can't have!"

BWAHAHAHAHA, you know you wish you lived here!

###

P.S. Welcome Back Football season, I have missed you.
P.S.S. Football update: Tom Brady, still one SEXY SEXY MAN.
P.S.S.S. NEW Update- Brett Farve also one sexy sexy man!

SUPER BLOGTASTIC!

2007-09-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

Well. I am 27 now. I am not going to lie, so far, so GOOD.

BEST BIRTHDAY PARTIES EVER!

Special thanks to Luz, Skip and JP for hosting what I have fondly begun to call FESTIVUS 07'

Today we have a bit to cover on the blog, so bear with me... it is gonna be a long post.

###

So, has this ever happened to you?

You decide to go see a chick flick for a friends birthday, you know the usual... and off you wander to get popcorn and drinks with the hapless husband somewhat commandeered into the movie. You're starving so you order the large popcorn and drink and you wander back into the movies that is filled with many many middle aged and older women prepping for a beautiful movie about Jane Austen... smiling you turn to your friend gesturing with your popcorn... and as she opens her purse (perhaps she needs a napkin or wants to contribute to the popcorn fund) and then she takes out

an ice cream cake?

No, just me then... nice. lovely.

She (and in this case the she is Luz) also had, plates, forks, candles and a serving apparatus... NO. I have no idea where she got a bottomless purse but I need to get me one of those.

We decided it might be odd to light the candles...which is a case in point of how my friends are all freaking insane and AWESOME. And Steph blew out the fake candles and ignoring all the strange looks from the elderly around us, we all ate cake!

But I must admit, the highlight was after the movie after arguing with Luz about putting a melted ice cream cake back into her purse... she was for, I was decidedly against. Ha. I won! I was carrying the box out to the trash (I mean really what where they going to do, throw me out?) I ran into the theater usher... and he looked at me and using my power of quick wit (I am totally famous for it here) I said: "I found it!" (perhaps famous is overstating my quick wit) and he replied "ah, of course." with a nod... as if to acknowledge, in fact, there were often giant cake boxes found in the theater... and they were just grateful, I carried it out.

And that folks was Thursday.

###

And now --- Actual Conversations I have had with my Mom.

Scene: my apartment mid-afternoon.
Phone Rings;

Me- "Hey mom"
Mom- "hi honey, what are you doing?"
Me- "watching opening weekend for college football" (SIDENOTE hahahahahahahaha Notre Dame... BWAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Suck it Indiana!)
Mom- "But why, I thought I raised you better than that."
Me- "I gotta go mom, call you in like 8 hours when the games are over"

I send a quick text message to Scott... that says... "Appalachia... WTF"
To which he replied "seriously" (hahaha, I LOVE THAT RESPONSE... see blog title)
and resettle to watch the WSU game... whilst flipping to mock Notre Dame (I always stay focused!)

5 minutes later

Phone Rings
Me- "Hi Mom."
Mom- "Hi, I am watching the football now too! it is Oregon"
Me- "cool what is the score and what quarter are you in"
Mom- "I don't know... hold on... okay honey, the score is I don't know...hold... I think they are in the first... the tv says 1st and 10"
Me- "no. mom, that means they are at first down, who has possession"
Mom- "is that when the first person falls down... I don't know honey... I think the red team"
Me- "mom, first down is..."
Mom- "oh, no...they fell on the guys head... get up guy... oh.... this is why this is a bad sport.. I don't see why they have to fall on each other"
Me- "mom, each time a team gets the ball they get"
Mom- "now they are kicking it, where are they kicking it, yay they caught it... hooray.... i thought they threw the ball in football"
Me- "4 tries to take the ball 10 yards and each time they go 10 yards, they"
Mom- "I wonder where they are playing... they have Oregon painted on the grass. does this mean the football game is in oregon"
Me- "get to start there 4 tries all over again"
Mom- "they should have to paint the other teams name on the field. it seems so unwelcoming"
Me- "mom..."
Mom- "now it says 1st and 15... what does that mean"
Me- silence, crickets..
Mom- "this is so boring... I wish good tv was on... but I can tell people I watched the football"
Me- "mom, when people say anything about football and you need to contribute... just say. Can you believe Applacian U. beat Michigan and then nod"
Mom- "oh, are they playing football there too."
Me- "mom, I gotta "
Mom- oh, they are kicking the ball again.... oh no, he fell down, I hope that boy is okay, honey, bye"
Me- "go, I will call you after the games"

Good Grief, I might as well been explaining the theory of relativity... she just completely ran over anything I said... my head hurt more at the end of that conversation than after my final exam in advanced political theory...

and seriously, that was an actual conversation I had with my mom... almost verbatim or as best as I can remember 2 days later. The fact I can identify what a football is should be considered an act of god.

###

Tomorrow: Birthday the Recap
Fun, Games, Slip and Slide and one permanent injury later... how I celebrated 27!

Eharmony is stalking me.

2007-08-22T11:29:00.000-07:00

Uh. Alarming things in my inbox this morning. I was "nudged" by some random dude at Eharmony.

I have no idea how or why he nudged me.
Also, I feel slighly violated and more than a little quizzical as to how Eharmony found me... since I hadn't yet thrown my hat on the ol'online dating ring. Mostly due to the fact I feel, like I should wait until at least 30 before I dub myself "she who can't find a boy in real life to take her out so she is going to find some boy in another state (not indiana) to take her out on a fake online date during which we will make up fibs about our lives so as to make ourselves more interesting than we actually are." I suppose I should be happy that I wasn't rejected by the eharmony which is what I am told can happen then I could be "she who can't even find random fake boys online to take me out."

Where was I... oh yes. wait until 30 to sign up for online dating. Which brings me to my next point... which is actually the main point... people, I AM ALMOST 27.

I am v. excited about turning 27. It is like turning 25 again only with an even more refined sense of style... (ahem..gauchos really... I am so ashamed it what can I say it was 2005 v. tumultous year) 27 is sexy. SERIOUSLY. Unlike 26 which is sorta meh... 27 says... sexy, sophisticated, and mature.

YES.

And now drumroll.
Happy Anniversary Blog!

**** A YEAR in REVIEW O' the life of ME**
August- Birth o' Blog. In Celebrus, cupcakes are baked and eaten
September- My birthday, and I am asked out via text message. Casa de Meh responds with a resounding "REALLY?"
October- Got involved with OB. Excellent kisser, not so excellent actual person. OOOH, started to hangout regularly with the ex... who some how stupidly thought open relationships work.... bless him, he has seen the errors of his ways. And let us not forget Slutoween!
November - still tangling with the OB... also meeting random boys from around pasadena... eh and meh. Jetskiing in November. WELCOME TO LA suckas.
December - long-ass (for real... MORGAN! lets do it again) bar crawl with College friends, creepy kissing denied...many a drunk dials made. Sorry Luz. Also. Recieved bangs from hairstylist.... sob. Most importantly, tangled with a dancing motherfracking monkey and won! Boo-yah (<---- hello 1993, welcome to the blog!)
January- break up with J. Mayer (but we are back boo... holla, blog friends) over the OB, into the NB...decide against NB. HA!!! Danger Ranging at Lola's... Declaration of intent to hate Indiana...and the cowboys... Still holding
February- Fancy pants dinners galore... eh...and I was almost a kidnapper... oooh, met NNB who eventually bored me.
March- Wrangled with NNB, NB and RB... decided I didn't like any of them... go with hanging with the homies instead.
April- Vegas, BABY!
May- FIRED! and picked up my Twinkie... then promptly dropped him. HA
June- blog sorta dead, Writer threatened with death if no updates were forthcomming... go to the ex's birthday party, make fun of random matrix guy, much hangout occurs.
July- TRANSFORMERS. NEWPORT BEACH. GIRLS GONE WILD (no, not me, but the party looked like it)
August- OLE! Happy Blogaversary!

I don't believe in Sensible Shoes.

2007-08-15T14:29:00.000-07:00

I found this out this week, at a random job interview, where the senior VP (of apparently bad taste) came to out to interview wearing light purple tapered pants, a dark purple shirt and VIOLET MOTHEREFFING SENSIBLE EASY SPIRIT SHOES. Violet. Really.

Allow me to post the transcripts of my internal monologue (my thoughts in Bold, actual spoken word, italicized):
Hmm... Nice waiting room, poor use of the color lime, but it is okay, I can handle this v. room without screaming

Okay upstairs, you will be meeting with Senior VP ______ (name withheld to prevent litigation, we will call her Senior VP Ugly Shoes)

Upstairs, not horrible. Good lord, why is that woman wearing such high pants, and are those puffy painted flowers on her blouse... okay maybe she is a temp

Hi, I am _____, VP of Ugly Shoes assistant. She will be with you in 10 minutes.

Okay, don't get judgy, just because she has puffy paint on her shirt, no judging.... be strong. GOOD GOD why puffy paint? okay stay firm, stay the course, look at your cute Enzo stilletos, you will be okay... make no direct eye contact with the puffy paint, might look weird

Hi, I am _____, VP of Ugly Shoes. Follow me

Lord, all the purple, it is like barney came in and threw up on her. Clubbed her over the head and said, now you are my dinosaur bitch. Where does one even find those shoes. And really why not flats. Flats are cute. Nordstroms had a sale. Okay, where do I look. up. no. down, NO. settle for the middle distance.... try and look ethereal. intelligent. wait. HOW CAN I DO THIS, I can't interview with a person of this poor a taste. it is an affront to all I believe in. maybe I should drop an Instyle advert on my way out. Guerrilla war tactics... start changing out the front magazines. I could make a difference in the world. One person at a time... I wonder what she is saying... something about filing is that...

Yes, I know how to file, in fact, I love my label maker.

Great, who says they like their label maker.. .old people that is who, old people who wear sensible shoes. Is that a SCRUNCHIE around her wrist. A purple scrunchie. Where does one even buy those? How, why, where. And how do I get out of here. I can't do this... I can't work here. She might make me wear scrunchies... then I will be in Naturalizer looking for the same shoe in beige (goes with everything!) I feel myself getting less sexy by the minute... I need an escape route. Focus, this job could be great. Sure, you would be misrable, but no one said work wasn't miserable. If you pretend that this is 1995, all these fashion no's become fashion YES. Okay she is introducing me to someone...

Hello, I do love this purse thank you.

That chick had BROWN EYELINER ON HER MOUTH... NO. NO. NO. I just can't do it I have to go. I am getting hives. I wonder how I will say no when they offer me this job... uh. Yeah, I hate your sense of style... P.S. Lime is an accent not a main color... too much. Too West Hollywood. Just keep your head down, finsh strong... focus

So concludes. Masterpiece Meh Theater. Needless to say. I will not be working there.

Please return to your regularly scheduled activities.

Mayer Watch * UPDATE*

2007-08-02T19:50:00.000-07:00

Day 2

Still no word. I wonder if it is me. Or, the fact that I have not placed strategic T&A all over the blog as a johnny'sboysmayerheads attractant, one always catches honey with bees. Some crap like that.

ZEXY

2007-08-01T11:37:00.000-07:00

First, a new addition to the blog...

MAYER WATCH 2007

I have taken the liberty of trying to introduce my fair blog to new friends...so I have sent John Mayer's blog with a note asking us to be blog friends....

Day 1- No Response form J. Mayer Blog Camp.... however, hilarious review of email from friends who have decided I was crazy for emailing him (or his blog, which is probably handled by his people... aside... I wonder if his people are called Johnny's Boys? Mayerheads?) But just in case, WELCOME, johnny'sboysmayerheads!

###

Scene-- Jon Mark's House. Hot Tub.
Characters--- Nick, Me, Jordan's Alter Ego--Bubba, Nate
Discussion--- Boys Sucking (thanks, S, I love having new things to bitch about) Girls (yay, Nick finally found a hot blond who eats AND is fairly sane) and why Jon Mark needs to stop the creepy.

Well, now you all have an overview of my last night. I am basically sipping my diet coke chatting (see--- ranting manically) about the latest stupid face boy that I managed to find. The boys nodding supportively (uh, or fearfully... whichever) When we uncover this little gem... the story of how Jon Mark brought a girl on vacation to visit Nick and Nick ruthlessly stole her from him and made out with her. All while Jordanbubba or bubbajordan muttered on and on about Cameros and T/A, A/T etc.

Or at least that is version A of the story.

So for your amusement... I present to you blog readers, (hello Europe, Morgan, email me from the Internet cafe when you read this) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:

1. You have a free weekend and you are but a poor college student, so you decide to drive up to Chicago to hang with your friend Nick in his tiny hovel of a studio. On your way there you meet a cute girl do you
a. immediately invite said girl on weekend vacation...even though you have no idea if she is bat-ish crazy and you haven't really got the space for this chick. I mean what the hell, 8 hours in a car with a stranger... LOVE ALWAYS BLOOMS (move along to section 2)
b. Get the girls number, call her when you get home. (Obviously, you aren't very good at this, but you probably get mad chicks... so well played player... well played. Adventure Over)

2. You get to Chicago with girl and kid brother, you immediately
a. offer to sleep on the floor so that she can have the bed, and your little bro and friend share the couch. Thereby effectively making yourself available to share her bed if necessary, and completely blocking your buddy from getting anywhere near said cute girl. (HA... another trick question, well played. play on player! Adventure Over)
b. Hop into the cozy bed with your kid brother and hope for the best. (move along to section 3)

3. Upon realizing that the girl has a mild interest in your friend. Do you:
a. Immediately set off to prove your own worth by becoming the WORLD'S NICEST GUY. (move along, to section 4)
b. Back off, many fish in the proverbial sea, etc. Besides Chicago baby, why sit and mope when you can go eat! (truly, you are not the quickest of learners, but whatev baby, you got it in the end. Adventure Over)

4. The trip down awkward lane is ova! And the whole drive back, said girl says nothing to you. Not one peep. Not one turn left. Do you
a. Decide, now is as good time as any to blast the stereo.... chalk up the silence to girl gone crazy and resolve never to invite a girl on a mancation again. (adventure over... sure, you didn't escape with alot but at least we aren't gonna have to mock you 5 years from now)
b. Call, IM, send email, a written letter and a telegraph, trying to figure out WHAT'S WRONG? (uh... if you did that... you are JON MARK... and we need to have a serious talk about WHY girls are sometimes just weird and not worth it... love you kid)

BONUS.

Months and months later you find that your boy, kissed said girl while you were there and you never knew... do you
a. Laugh it off and put Tapatio in his cereal
b. Mock the girl. Tell everyone you weren't into her anyway, and deny plausibly how the calling, emailing and telegraph actually came from your neighbor/evil twin/resident assistant who was trying to DESTROY you.

Whatever jon mark chooses at this point will be hilarious. And that ladies and gents (johnny'sboysmayerheads) was my evening last night. Nick, watch your cereal.

Swim hugs for all!

Stand.

2007-07-31T16:08:00.000-07:00

When I was little. I practiced swimming between my mom and her friend Sarah at the beach. I remember that we were in the bay, where the waves were no more than 3 feet tall, and the current was strong enough to push me around, but not really strong enough to pull me away. Besides, I knew then as I know now, my mom was there, and she would get me out of the wave if it got to unsafe for me.... She could still touch. Very important things in the eyes of a 6 year old.

As I swam back towards my mom, a wave hit me... and I remember clearly opening my eyes in it, it looked like what I would imagine a washing machine does, all noise and dark churning. And I rolled and rolled, knowing I should come up but unable to push myself to the surface.... when the wave stopped, I thrashed and panicked.... I was paralyzed with the knowledge of incoming death.

When clear as day, I heard ... STAND UP.

So I moved my feet beneath me. And I stood. In 3 feet of Water, 50 feet down the shore from my mom. Alone and close at the same time... and no where near enough to tell me that the water was shallow enough to stand.

I spend an inordinate amount of time wrestling with God. I have never been a passive believer, I somehow doubt, I have ever been a passive anything. I fight over little things, big things, things that I can't change, things that I can. I spend the rest of my time, holding tightly to the things that are good in my life...

More often than not, life these days feel like I am back on that beach, swimming slowly back and forth between parents. One there and one unseen, all the while holding on to all the good things in my life, and feeling an awful lot like the good things, things that are supposed to help me float in the sea, have such a hold on me that I am slowly losing my buoyancy and I am moved by life's waves... those things that I value so much, they seem to be killing me. But I fear deeply that if I ask for help, if I ask someone to hold my good things, all my treasures, they won't be valued, that somehow they will be thrown away or worse yet, given to someone more worthy of them. Stuck at a crossroads, I pray desperately that I might be able to keep what is mine. Even as my treasures get broken and wrenched away by my own inability to care for them in the waves. Slowly, I swim on, when the distance seems to keep growing between me and a person who can touch.

I felt myself get knocked around this week, and for a few moments, I was tossed in the waves, all darkness and noise, churned and whipped around. Recognizing that I am speck in the face of an angry ocean. Rolled through the waves... and when it came to a stop, I was scared and angry and feeling a sense of clarity that only happens to me on occasion: one day, I will be unable to swim and these good things... the hopes that I carry with me, they will eventually drown me. I can't swim holding on to the past, present and future, hopes, dreams and realities.... Swimming seems to be take all the muscles god gave me.

So I let things go.... I thrashed and panicked and waited for the inevitable feeling of sinking and as I sunk below the water. Sadness (but I loved it). fear, (please, please don't take this from me) panic (I am nothing without it)

Until a voice, familiar to me, told me to stand.

My feet stretch, my body turning, my toes feeling for a rocky bottom.
I stand.

I've been BETRAYED...

2007-07-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

Throws BARWARE....

To whom it may concern, but with specific regards to Lindsay Lohan, whose crazyness has infected the L.A. air and has taken hold of my roommates tentative grip on reality:

I have been betrayed, on the deepest, darkest, most injury inducing levels... by someone I considered FAMILIA, my roommate. Who brazenly just walked into my room wearing.............SKINNY JEANS.

BAH.

I blame you LaLohan, and I am eyeing you suspiciously, Britney, clearly this is some sort of L.A.
like conspiracy to make me insane.

It's like I can't even look at her anymore, it's like I don't even know who she is anymore, thankfully, when she asked if they looked HORRIFIC, i didn't have to lie, my roommate was blessed with v. thin thighs.

But honestly, HONESTLY, what is next. Will she go on a rampage attacking cars and shaving her head.

Will she start wearing puffy sneakers, with skinny pants, thereby besmirching the Casa de Meh's good name. Where is Donna Karan when I need her!

Never fear all, I have a plan of action already in place. I have begun placing InStyle Magazine in inoccuous places, like the fridge, so that she picks up the hint. I also have removed all puffy shoes from the premises and am currently cutting out pictures of La Lohan, with subtle statements like, this could be you, and have strategically placed pictures of muffins around the house, so that she keeps a watchful eye.

I feel as though the end is near.
I must go online shop at Banana Republic, that mine eyes be cleansed.
Pray for us all.

Hey. I don't like your girlfriend.

2007-07-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

Let us have a moment of silence, as I quoted Avril Lavigne.... whom I despise.

But seriously, I don't like your girlfriend. This is currently true for at least 4 people in my life right now (Thankfully, that isn't true about any of my boys, I like their girlfriends, mostly because they aren't CRAZY)

*aside* one of my boys, has a girl (space) friend, that I am not that a fan of, but meh, what can you do.

I am not one of those girls that doesn't like other girls, but sometimes men in my life pick strange issue filled girls and like little puppies present their finds to me for approval and in some cases clean up... but the thing they don't get is those girls don't like ME... and frankly, I DON'T LIKE THEM. I don't like that they are so flipping needy, I don't like that you expect me to make them my best friend because you happen to be making out with them, and I don't like when they inevitably snap, and I get dropped until you find a new toy.

In other news, Casa De Meh, has gone into full summer alert, which basically means my roommate has permanently moved into my room (I have Air Conditioning) and we wear all bikini's all the time. Yes, I know you wish you lived here.

Skinny

2007-07-02T15:05:00.001-07:00

More on that later.

But for now, a brief interlude:

Boys.

You make me want to scream. No really, scream.

Why do you do the things you do. Tell me I am perfect for you, but not take a risk and ask me out.... and if you don't mean it, stop saying it. I don't want to be the friend you are gonna always be in love with. GET IT TO*FREAKING*GETHER, or leave me alone. I would be fine without you.

He loves me. He loves me not. Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah.

Okay, rant over.
Last week, I had what we in Casa de Meh, call the bitchslap o'truth, the BST, if you will:

I will never be the skinny girl.
No. Never.
Devastating news. Well, Meh, who gave you such knowledge, who issued the BST that gave you such a headache. Here is the culprit: Ken.

Ken and I take boxing together 3 times a week, and as such, he pretty much knows my fitness level (which is pretty decent.) Anyway, Ken and I were walking out, as we usually do, discussing cute people in class, what our dates did that was stupid etc. And he was discribing what type of girl he likes.... and he said, "well, I like girls that are fit and healthy, like you (I know, nice right!) I hate skinny girls." Me: earth shattering to a halt "what do you mean, skinny girls?" and Ken says, you know girls who are skinny... aren't you glad you aren't a skinny girl. I mean, you never have to worry about being skinny"

Crickets.

Me: "NO. I mean, yeah, of course too thin you can't win"

But driving home, I considered... did Ken not know... my fitness goal has always been to be a skinny girl... every girls fitness goal (despite the, I just want to be healthy crap is to be a skinny girl)... I mean REALLY, WTF do you think I am nearly killing myself 3-5 times a week... fitness is fun and everything but honestly, SKINNY is the goal, sqeeeze myself into a delicious size 2 (I am a 6/8 so I am not really that big) never have to worry about what I can eat and when, etc. look fantastic in photos... healthy takes work, and now I find out, I can be working out for the next 5 years of my life and never be skinny.

BST.

Back in Black Bitches!

2007-06-09T00:40:00.000-07:00

Ahem, sorry mom for the cursing.

Anyhow, I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.

So .....what to discuss. What to discuss. Well I think to bring us back a story would be... my twinkie.

Who is my twinkie you say, the twinkie is this super young (20'ish) guy who asked me out like a month ago. Granted he was super hot! And I like dating, but more importantly, I appreciate a man who will actually ask me out.

So he asks. And I say okay. Knowing full well, this couldn't end well.

Anyhow so he did the atypical phone call at like 10, and we talked. Which was fine... UNTIL he decided to detail, how he likes to a) illegally drink beers on dates and b) then make girls who have a problem with it. Sit outside the resturant, til he is ready to get them.

LET US GATHER OUR COLLECTIVE LAUGHS, as we picture, a guy, any guy, telling me to sit outside by his car and still actually expecting to have a car and not small pieces of metal and tires when he comes out.

Yeah. what. But the best part is he just kept talking. WHO FLIPPING DOES THAT.... "yeah, I make the ho's stand outside, because I like beer"

totally, hot. Really, I could barely hold back my primal attraction while I hung up the phone. on. him.

I don't think he got it though. He sent me random text messages the next day. How.... quaint.

Like I said... I am back bitches...like Paris in lockup... please return to your regularly scheduled activities

The story of the bartender who wouldn't keep his shirt on.

2007-04-23T15:48:00.001-07:00

It was amusing as well as disturbing. I mean, on the one hand, Mr. Bartender was HOT! He looked like Jonathan Rhys Meyer, but you know, less "I'm a movie star" and more like, "I am the hot boy from next door."

On the other hand, he is a bartender. One looks at bartenders, one might even fancy a bartender, but one RARELY dates a bartender. Why. Well let's step back and look at our friendly bartender... You know how he always remembers your drink, and gives you that sexy wink, seems to look into your eyes and remember what you were talking about... yeah, he is doing that with every other girl (and sometimes boy) in the bar.

But I digress, this is a story about his shirt. The bartender was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he had this weird penchant for lifting his shirt everytime I walked past him. I wonder if that is some bartender mating call... look be mezmerized by my abs, come to me, spend your money. Because if it was, it totally didn't work. I kept laughing at him, it just seemed so odd... like something a three year old would do.

It did impress the drag queen behind me though... so.

So...uh...

2007-04-18T14:32:00.000-07:00

Honestly, it has been a week. A long week, that many strange conversations about relationships (not mine) and relational stupidity (often times mine) and I came to a strange conclusion about many MANY a guy I have liked/dated/been with:

I am the girl you got under to get over someone else.

Before my mom leaves angry comments... I don't mean LITERALLY... I mean figuratively. I am the quintessential transition girl.

Anyhow, I think all of my boys (if you are new, and I know you are Jody, my boys refers to a group of 3 guys whom I have known since College, and whom have been dealing with all my various girl breakdowns since then...they are the trifecta of awesome known as "my boys"-- see the archieves for further info) have collectively lost there minds.... is it because I haven't been checking in as regularly as I used to, I don't know.

But when you get a phone call that goes like this "Hey, it's me, remember that one girl I dated who was batish crazy and I made you fake being my gf/wife so that she would stop calling... I ran into her again and she is hot... I think I am gonna go for it" and then followed by "Cheating doesn't count if you aren't planning on leaving your GF" and "I think I love her... but this relationship is hard, and love should be EASY" and then finally "You are going to be so proud of me... I totally have not had any sex for like 57 whole days!"

Um.. yeah. What is that. WHAT IS THAT. (for the record I got various phonecalls like that from all of them at different times during the day... what can I say, it was an odd saturday) That my friends is the begining of Crazeeeeeeeee. I wonder if they have antibiotics for it. Because I wasn't aware a)not having sex required a plaque b) we've already discussed how crazee doesn't really go away and c) Cheating... self-explanitory and d) what sorta backwoods, stupid ish is a relationship should be easy... if by easy you mean like... I dunno taking a dollar and using your fist to squeeze pennies out of it.. then yes EASY.

I am taking opinions, but they might need to get checked out at their local physicians... I am worried.

- Meh

P.S. Remind me tommorrow, I am supposed to blog about the Bartender that just wouldn't keep his shirt down!

I fail at my own challenges

2007-04-13T15:52:00.000-07:00

That last post was introspective me... then I got busy with work, which is why I have failed to update 4 times.... But I wanted to clarify. I am not and was not speaking about anyone who I KNOW reads this blog. Ahem, JACK, this means you; smooches kid, for being nice and responding just in case... Also kisses to Wilson, who was so concerned he called and then made me dinner.

The person I was refering to in the last post does not read this blog. Why, because they do not typically remember me unless I am right in front of them and even if they some how did stumble here, they are not really self-aware enough to consider that it is them I could be talking about.

In other news, I think I love James Morrison. Yes, you go buy his CD right now.

Worst Week EVER

2007-04-07T22:04:00.000-07:00

I went to Kickboxing with one shoe and one sock.

Yeah, total metaphor for life here. I feel like I am one shoe short of an outfit. One gloriously stilleto away from perfection.

Today, I ran away from LA. You know sometimes this place sorta makes you wonder if you are sane. I mean, not like being in Indiana, makes you wonder if you are insane... clearly, you just are... hello Indiana, p.s. I still hate you. I mean that like LA literally takes everything that should be normal and inverts into an odd Alice in Wonderland mad tea party kind of way.

An example of this all happened this week when going through a conversation discussing friendships.

I have a friend whom I love. Whom I will defend to the death, and whose concept of viable friendships is just beyond all wrong.

I have given him my patented friendship dollar discussion. Which in short just says, relationships are like investment banking, one doesn't throw money into a bad fund and expect any return.... and that through calculated risk investment you can maximize your friendships and personal growth... I realize that this sounds super analytical... but if you think about it the question really is: How much time have you spent investing in someone who just doesn't give a crap about you.

And yet you do. Or at least I do. Because even as I gave the *patented Friendship dollar discussion* I know that I have spent an inordinate time this year concentrating on being friends with someone who probably could take or leave me. Even in my head today, I make the appropriate friendship overtures and I don't really know the point... is the point to be the better person or is the point to prove to them eventually that I am worth knowing. It is absolutely ridiculous. And I wonder, is an LA thing, where it seems better to have a surface relationship than none at all... or if it is just a thing that people do till they grow out of it. And when do people grow out of it, because I know people still struggling with this v. idea at 42 years old. Which seems like an age you should have most of your ish figured out.

Right, well so ends the introspective part of the evening.

Dear Fellow Americans:

2007-04-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

Hello. Hola. etc.,

America, I think it is time we chitchatted. I am gonna need you to stop being stupid.

Yes, Stupid.

Granted, I know you sorta pride yourself on that renegade, we don't care cavilier attitude and the education system, is to say the least a bit lax, plus there is that ugly recent history we dare not speak of *skinny pants, britney spears* to distract you, but honestly, this is getting ridiculous.

Sending money to the FBI in NIGERIA, so that someone whom you don't know, have no record of, and have never met will let you have 3 million dollars for only $2,000 and your bank account information. Just cause Uh.

REALLY, America, REALLY.

First off, the FBI in Nigeria. THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION in NIGERIA! Pop quiz, what about that immediately says, "hey, something doesn't sound right?" Could it be. YES, FEDERAL. Let us define federal for you America, since you seem to be a bit confused: national; especially in reference to the government of the United States as distinct from that of its member units. Which means, they wouldn't have a branch office in Nigeria.

Secondly, when AMERICA, WHEN was the last time some rich person just decided to give 3 million dollars in return for $2,000. You know, because they are in Nigeria, and your rich unhearrd from Uncle that no one knows wanted you, just you to have it. Not your parents. Not your siblings. You.

I will tell you why he wants to give it to you, because you are a SUCKER. And you are about to get robbed.

I don't know what to be more disgusted about, the fact that you are stupid enough to fall for this FBI in Nigeria thing or Tom Brady knocking up half the eastern seaboard. It is a tough call. Which should tell you of my displeasure AMERICA.

We already have a bum rap America, the eighties ruined us in the eyes of the fashion world, and the last group of super smart people we got, were from India and Asia, etc.... (Before anyone yells, it is the google guys) Listen, we are the nation who developed the computer, Bill Gates and Warren Buffett (I FLOVE Buffy, Call me Warren! I love you! *) Can you guys get it together here. Come on.

xoxo-
Meh

Is this Blog Dead....PFFFFFFT.

2007-04-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

No, I am not dead, in fact I have more stuff than ever to say, so this month, will be the month of BLOGGING, 4 days a week even.

So to start off, this weeks BLOGTASTIC MONTH: 5 things you may or may not know about me *The FOOD edition*, enjoy or don't, whatever.

1. I don't or won't eat animals that I like, deer-- no, bear-- no, and in fact I have a hard time eating beef... I usually just trick myself into thinking that hamburgers don't come from cows, but in fact come from god, specially wrapped in nice cellophane wrappers to be paired with cheese and ketchup.

2. I don't believe certian foods should cross cultural boundries... by which I mean, I don't think a chinese food place should serve "The Chinese Burrito" (Yes, I really saw that) or Chinese corn chowder.... when was the last time you saw the shots from Beijing of people chowing down on corn on the cob.

3. I have talked myself into believing I don't like muffins, fettucini alfreado, donuts or anything else super bad for you. Seriously, I have no reason not to like those foods except the calorie count makes me cry.

4. In my family, tea and toast is the medicine cure-all. Depressed, how bout some toast? Happy, lets make some toast? Jealous, let's talk about it over toast? Sick, Toast. You get the idea. It is the first thing my grandmother offers me when I get off the plane and the last thing she offers when I am getting ready to leave.

5. I can't bring myself to eat anything from the box of chocolates without A, having a map or B, cutting each chocolate in half so I can see what is in it, even if it is someone elses box.... none of the forrest gump ish for me, I wanna know what I am going to get, so I can avoid nasty chocolate covered cherry crap like the plague it is. This is probably a metaphor for my whole life, but I prefer not to think those things over to carefully.

Introducing the will-he-call-o-meter 2007

2007-03-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

In the efforts of amusing my friends for longer periods of time as well as mock my life, ad nauseum.... I am starting the WHCOM 2007. We will be tracking this fun for at least the next month on the Blog.

Rules to note, I am a firm FIRM FIRM believer in the 3 day rule, so seeing how long it actually takes for boys to call, is endlessly facinating to me... not to mention flipping hilarious.
Two, in general, if I am writing about said boy on the Blog, I am probably not super invested in the outcome of the situation, so honest reporting is likely ...

Our Subjects(to date):
Guy 1- Pros: Tall (yay, and so v. rare in LA), Good-looking (7 for those following the AS5 meter), pretty charming and funny.
Cons: Is a Director/Producer... blah blah blah. For the record, in Los Angeles, Director/Producer/Actor/Blah means one of two things: Starbucks Barista or Pro-Waiter
WHCOM- Likely.

Guy 2- Pros: Professional type, funny, not an actor/producer/etc, seems sane (AS5 Solid 7)
Cons: Not really Tall ( I would have to commit to flats, which okay, I guess I could do, but I love my heels), entering a profession that requires uh... roughly 80 hours a week in work, not good for me... I like attention (obviously, hello self-serving blog)
WHCOM- Sure, in about 5 weeks, when he remembers that he had my number or notices it in the blackberry

Guy 3- Pros: RIDICULOUSLY HOT (AS5 ranking: 8 w/ 7L)
Cons: RIDICULOUSLY HOT.
WHCOM- Sure, because my life is actually one giant Sitcom with no laugh track... and hot boys exist to give me aneurysms trying to figure out wtf is going on with them.

I am sure I will have more subjects by the end of the week, I have an event to attend this week.

But feel free to take bets on who calls first.... and remember the first rule of betting, if the favorites are split down the middle, bet on the longshot... (<--- no idea if this is a real rule, but I heard it one day, and it sounded cool) Addendum [5 minutes later] I think this rule is probably wrong as it would have resulted in Ralph Nader being President several years back...maybe the rule only applys to the ponies

Blogaversary- Late... but still delish

2007-02-28T13:26:00.000-08:00

Hola, it is the best time of the month. Blogaversary. Enjoy or don't. Whichever.

1. I once cheated on a history exam by pretending I had a question and looking at the answers as the teacher corrected past classes tests. Yes, mom, I am sorry for this.

2. In middle school and early high school, I would plan outfits based on what other friends were wearing... this did not mean that I wore the same things at the same time.... it usually meant of the 4 girls I hungout with, one of us would get to be the "cute" one that day.... the other ones had to be dressed down, very comunist like no? BWAHAHAHA

3. I will only work with a particular brand of pens. This makes me quite the DIVA during the Staples order, because if the admin orders the wrong pens, I refuse to use them to the point of no work getting done and taking a break to go to target and buy the right pens. Look, it is quite simple, I need Post-its and I need pilot precise pens, EXTRA FINE.... I said NO BALL POINT PENS... sorry channeling my inner Mommy Dearest.

4. I can read people pretty well and have been known to play up, play down my intelligence accordingly. I also have been known to give opinions about books and plays I have never seen, and proclaim movies I will never see to be bad. I have only ever had one person doubt the authenticity of my claims... and I still convinced them. I do this by speaking with conviction even as I know NOTHING about what I am talking about.... bwahahaha. If you say it with authority most people backdown.

5. I love to read, but I also usually read in this order, begining, end, middle.... always. I do the same thing with the newspaper, front page, opinions page, others based on interest. I have no idea where this started, but I am guessing during my nancy drew kick in the fourth grade. This probably says alot about my patience level and my ability to wait for satisfaction.... ha.

Men should come with Warning Signs.

2007-02-20T11:04:00.000-08:00

I dedicate this blog to: Nick, I am sorry she was batish crazy, but I must stop you from ruining other women's lives, you crazy fool you. Snap to, let's grab martinis when you are here. And The Ex... whom I love, and whose ex-gf (not me) sucks and whose new maybe sorta gf, is soooooo getting screwed over before this is all over. It's okay, I still love you buddy.

You know placards that say things like:
My last girlfriend made me crazy/drunk/depressed and I am critically incapable of actually caring about you right now.
Or, I am still in love with my ex.
Or, You are just not effed up enough for me.
Or, I am seriously bitter with my last girl, I plan on screwing over as many girls as possible for revenge... whilst simultaneously, wanting the last effed up girl back.
Or, I am addicted to drugs, alcohol, porn, cheating, all of the above etc.
Or, I am creepy.
Or, I will be perfectly ready to be into you in t-minus, 24 months.
Or we could just cut it down to something really precise: I am F.U.B.A.R. (*u*&ed Up Beyond All Recognition) and will be for ____ months, check back later.

Honestly, because really, REALLY, seriously, it would save me (and all of womankind) a ton of flippin' time. Frankly, I don't want to be the girl that fixes you from the last effed up, lying, skanky bitch that you managed to latch onto and neither do most sane girls*.

Listen, you could save us all some time if you just checked off the listing of where you are in the dating scale before we started liking you. Let's just put it all out there, see where the chips land... because this whole I like you, I don't, I just want to make-out with you blah blah blah blah is freaking ridiculous, especially since you are a) hooking up with girls that you actually would like if you didn't get so messed up over the last girl and b) are causing the chain effect where, you screw over some other girl, she turns into that crazy bitch who screws over some dude, there by PERPETUATING FOR ETERNITY the whole system. Which brings me to my second point.

The line starts here, to start smacking some Ho's, (ha, I have always wanted to say that). Cues Buck Cherry's "crazybitch"

Ladies, and I use that word fairly loosely, as in people who have girly bits, could you PLEASE stop doing the following to boys who actually are worthwhile: lying, cheating, manipulating, stealing, sleeping with his best friend, ignoring him, breaking up with him for no reason, being overly needy, etc. I would like to say: He is not the last dude who screwed you over, there is no need to punish him for the last guy. I realize as ladies, again, loosely, we are always trying to you know correct our mistakes, but honestly, you can't fix something that HE HASN'T done yet.

Momentary Aside: Apologies to the following: Garret, Steve, and Jarred, I may have actually screwed one or more of you up... my only defence is that I was young, stupid and needy or something.... and at least I never cheated on you. Hopefully, you have found that nice sane chick* to help you through.

Or for you--- scandalous, ruinous, bitches who have screwed over many many a man, I have tried to date/like/befriend, chick, LET HIM GO. For the love of Tom Brady, LET HIM GO. Yes, I realize you may have recognized that you made a critical error in cheating on him with that greasy dude down the street (moment of silence for Britney Spears) and yes, I recognize that as a pretty hot chick, you feel that every man on earth should worship you, but back you should have thought of that the first time you broke him into a million tiny pieces. So just go away, you are ruining things for the rest of us. Do like the rest of America, and go to the Man Rehab, and get clean, clear and then comeback ready to actually be in a relationship with a decent guy OR stick to your own kind, the lying cheating kind and leave the good ones to those of us, inclined to appreciate them... Thanks

This blog was brought to you by at least 5 phone calls of devastation this weekend from various guy friends or the one irritated meh over the pending Tom Brady baby...

(*We here at the blog recognize that sane and girls is an oxymoron, so for the purposes of this blog we will define sane as not a: pathological liar, cheater, drama drama queen, or any other of the extreme neurosis that the ladies can develop)

Almost a Kidnapper.

2007-02-14T16:25:00.000-08:00

So it has been an interesting week. I failed you my loving audience. I haven't updated. I am sorry.

But I have excuses. My computer had to go to the doctor and I had so much to say I had nothing to say.

It was weird.

So to get back in the proverbial saddle, I am going to tell you about my weekend. Where I. Walked. Into. A. Strangers. House

How did this happen...well lemme recap. It all starts with an idea. An idea to hot tub on a cold saturday night. So, I am on the phone with my friend Ryan, getting directions to the house. I stand at a door with roomie as back up waiting for someone to answer the doorbell and he says... hey just open the door and come in. So I open the door... to a little child playing Dance Dance Revolution. So I am like Ryan, wtf are children here. And he is all WTF.

So, the roomie and I silently shut the door and run for the car, where we drive approximately 30 feet up the road to the right house.

These are the questions begging to be asked...
1. Who leaves there door unlocked with their seven year old playing unattended in the living room
2. Why am I such a stupid face that I walked into the wrong house.
3. Which one of you would have still spoken to me when I was arrested for kidnapping.

Eh.

Fancy Pants. Bleck.

2007-02-01T09:09:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, I spent an extra 3 hours after work at a fancy pants dinner hosted by a board member, whom I shall not name as she would buy Blogger, track me down and fire me. Yes, she is that wealthy, her purse was worth more than my salary for the month of January.

During said dinner I discovered, or shall we say, rediscovered something. I hate Fancy Pants Food, any appetizer that costs upwards of 25 dollars a plate and consists of 6 tiny slivers of cheese with some burned bread is just crazy (this confirms my earlier conclusions that if you have more than 2 million dollars in savings or at a job.... your sanity decreases, mathmatically this means that rich is inversely porportional to crazzeeeeeeeee.... don't worry we prove this later in the recap) Anyhow, this fancy pants dinner consisted of several 25 dollar appetizers, none of which tasted good. Really.... REALLY a salad made up of 4 different mushrooms (all of which were legal ones) is worth 24 dollars. Not to mention, it is in essence a fungus salad... ick.

Anyhow, it was an interesting meal, I mean my board member had fantastic ideas, if only I had 10 -20 million more dollars in my budget and a staff of about 7.

Here is how the conversation went:
Board Member (BM): You know I think it would be great if we held a fireworks display every evening JUST LIKE disneyland.

Me: but. this is a city. We can't just do fireworks, plus pirotechnics is expensive.

BM: But it would be like our ODE to the FAR EAST. Just last year, I was in china, and now is the time to embrace diversity. Fireworks. Chinese. Don't you love fireworks?

Me: but. Fireworks are expensive, and hard to do, they require planning, and permiting and a staging location.

BM: You know, I did fireworks once at a movie... I think we should do stars and bursts kind, then we can have them spell out our name.

Me (silently sobbing inside and looking at my CEO for guidance) Uh... Well, as long as we keep them with in our logo color scheme.

Nothing says fun, like kissing ass and agreeing with someone when you know that what they are asking is literally impossible.

Hooray.

So I spent the entire evening, picking at bread, moving lamb sausage around my plate (I can't bring myself to eat lamb, it is just wrong... I also can't eat deer. I always think of Bambi's Mom) trying to discover which cheese was probably cheddar (NONE... I triple creme fraiche... which I think was bree) and passing the fungus plate.

I was hungry and nerve shattered at the end.
I hate fancy pants food.

The preceeding post was pulled.

2007-01-31T08:41:00.000-08:00

I stand by my previous assertion that one need not act like a skank on webpages. But after much Debate with College Compatriots (where I was either supported and cheered or told I was being super super insecure and too leave the childreeen's alone)... I feel that it is in my best interest to just narrow down the statement to this:

"Ladies, please stop acting like sluts when you are clearly just 16 years old."

That is all.

P.S. See mom, I cleaned it up for you.
P.S.S. Nate, I believe even you can see the truth in this statement.

Blogaversary- The Favorite's Editions

2007-01-23T10:06:00.000-08:00

It's that time of the month, you know the drill. 5 things you may or may not know about me. Enjoy. Or Don't. Whatever.

1. Favorite Foods- Over all food: Sandwiches, they need not be explained... I love them. A meal you can eat all the time. Snack Food: Hummus (only from Trader Joe's) and pita chips. Stressed out food: No, not ice cream, I like Toast. The amount of toast i eat after 10 a.m. is directly porportional to how stressed out I am.

2. Favorite Store: Banana Republic. I discovered the Banana in college but now that I work down the street from a store, I spend an inordinate amount of time there on lunch. It can't be healthy when all the managers know your name.

3. Favorite Sports Team: The New England Patriots. Tom Brady. I believe this speaks for it self: Sigh... so pretty. So talented. So Pretty..... sorry, I drifted off.

4. Favorite tv show(s): Greys Anatomy, Heroes, SVU...

5. Favorite Beverage: Diet coke with Vanilla or any alcoholic beverage contianing Malibu Coconut rum. I also enjoy tea, English Breakfast or Green only... I hate that fruity crap.

Insert Clever Title Here

2007-01-19T12:04:00.000-08:00

So my name is _______ (ha! stalkers, never!) and I have bad taste in men.

Everyone: "Hi _______"

It all must have started somewhere in the 8th grade with my crush on the school hottie Travis. I knew he was just a flirt. I knew it was going to end badly. I totally did not let that stop me from listening to insipid boyz to men albums and dreaming of him asking me to the dance. He never did. What he did do is send me notes, wave to me from the hallway on M,W, TH and every other F, and generally flirt then ignore me. This, my friends, started me on the path to ALWAYS finding a way to want boys that I can't have, are bad for me, or who generally just have a love for ALL of womenkind as opposed to you know, just one. (As an aside, for journalistic integrity, I must point out that by the 10th grade... Travis was ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL about me, unfortunately I was into another unattainable [well attainable yet fickle] man Matt [who probably spawned my love of the Patriots by being from NE and who liked me and didn't like me depending on the week, ah HS I hated you.)

13 years later, I have almost the same danged problem. No, I am not hung up on a man I can't have (well maybe I am a little bit but not in that dedicate songs, be all depressive way or even that proactive, I will get his attention if it kills me kind of way, mostly in that, wow he is so awesome, sigh, never going to happen kind of way... Tom Brady does that to a girl. Stupid Gisele, she can't just be one of the most beautiful women in the world, she has to date one of the hottest men in the world as well... selfish!)

I just can't seem to bring myself to like the man I should really really like. Like the boy is ideal, good family, good looking (i.e. I am attracted to him), smart, nice, sweet, caring, we get along etc. And yet.... NOTHING. I can sit there with him and be all "meh-y" about it... like maybe we kiss, maybe we don't... whatever. And it is not fair, because I am really really trying here, I want to want him. Honestly. But I just can't. And that is why I am defective, I have all these craptacular guys who just want to touch me inappropriately and I finally find a great guy and I am all... MEH.

SON OF A MOTHERFRACKING MONKEY.

MEH.

It's a curse.

*****************

Wait, it's a bird, it's a plane, NO... it's a non-sequitor, everybody DUCK!

*****************

To my mother's chagrin, I am a football fan. I kn0w this bugs her, because if she calls me during games she gets this "mom, football, are you dead, great, no bye," and she calls back to say "why, why WHY do you like this inane sport?" All season long.

I don't even know where it came from, probably from a boyfriend in the past, but I am a FAN. I watch the games on Sunday, I read the sports section, I have a player I love and teams I back in the NFL and college.

But I recently came to the conclusion, I was still missing something in my NFL fandom. A team I hated. You can't truly have a team you love, if you don't have a team you hate.... right, otherwise you can't measure the depth of the emotion correctly. Never one to not recitify these problems immediately. I am proud to announce the team of my ire: (DRUMROLL)

The Dallas Cowboys and/or the Indianapolis Colts

Well, I get Indiana (The blog hates all things Indiana) but why the cowboys, you say?
Well while the Cowboys had somethings going for them, a coach, Bill Parcells, that my favorite coach (Patriots --Belichick) had previously mentored or something and a better location than most teams (see Indiana) and in theory excellent color choices for their uniforms (Navy, which I look good in) and Silver (Also, look good in.) They preformed poorly for having a complete chump for a manager (as a communications person, I don't like his interview style), their uniforms are fugly, the QB is merely okay looking and I think there cheerleaders are not cute. These are the things we here at the blog judge our teams by; and the Cowboys failed us misrably.

Plus, our friend Ben (he is a redskins fan) and the Ex (I have no idea why, I think it has to do with the early nineties or some dude named troy) hate the Cowboys, since I call them the most often to get clarification of football rules, they are owed some loyalty. And because no one suggested any other teams for me to despise, I had to go with what I know.

So let this be a declaration of intent to hate the Cowboys and the Colts irrationally and completely for the next few seasons. Sure my fanatical rantings of how awful they are won't make sense (since I don't know anything about the teams), but I believe in embracing these things to really fill out my fandom. Look out world.

For the record, the hatred spot for College is already completely filled with my irrational despisement of Notre Dame... any team that declares itself God's team and is actually in INDIANA deserves my hate. So here is to no bowl wins in 10+ years and counting.... HA.

And we're back.

2007-01-18T11:01:00.000-08:00

Sorry peoples, I have had much to say but a drama/blood(more on this later)/stress filled week, I hadn't said anything.

Just to get back into the swing of things, a brief recap of the last eh... 6 days.
I went to a sadist dentist who put weird metal peices in my mouth while he worked, accidentally numbed the back of my throat and almost killed me. Nothing says AWESOME like spitting up blood for a good hour after I left. Earlier that day, I found my job posted on craigslist, because before we can be hired permanently at our company we have to allow the board to take resumes to see if you are the best they can do (there is a metaphor in that about life that I am totally going to exploit next post)... only, at the time, I totally didn't know that, so I had a big panic attack and am currently in the perpetual fear of my eventual firing, even though I am actually quite good with my job. Hooray.

Right, so never fear back in the saddle starting today. I have many thoughts. But I will leave you with this for right now.

According to the Today Show, 60 is the new 40, and according to sex in the city, 40 is the new 30 and 30 is the new 20. Does this mean, 26 is the new teenager. Because honestly that would explain ALOT.

Seriously. WhoTF thinks up these things... in 20 years is it going to be 80 is the new teenager.... and 90 is the new birth.

Dumb. Ish.

Are you a Danger Ranger?

2007-01-10T10:21:00.000-08:00

Lately, I have taken to calling a select group of friends “Danger Rangers,” all from a rather stupid commercial I saw… leading other friends to question what exactly is a danger ranger?

So for your amusement (and greater knowledge) a quiz:

1. You are out with friends Saturday night, and someone says “eff it, we should just go to vegas!” you say:
a. “uh, I have to work/church/sleep in the morning, so let’s just hang out, we can do Vegas when we have time and made plans.”
b. “That is such a far drive on short notice… how long do you think it would take to get there”
c. “Caesars or Mandalay Bay?”

2. You are stuck in an airport for at least 8 hours, it is Christmas eve, so you:
a. Sit in a terminal with your laptop and watch dvd’s, you don’t want to miss a chance at flying stand by.
b. Find a sports bar and watch football bowl games, trash talking to every person with in radius about your team… Don’t got a team, you pick the team that no one is rooting for (unless that team is Notre Dame) and trash talk using statistics and ideas no one has heard of.
c. Walk out of the airport take a cab to the city you are stuck in and raise a ruckus

3. Fellas, you meet a new cutie, do you:
a. Chat up said cutie, being mildly flirtatious, and walk away after a few minutes.
b. Slide right up into the seat next to her, chat her up and say, “hey we should hang out sometime” and call said cutie a week later
c. Chat up new cutie, tell her you think she rocks, ask for the phone number and call the next day to make some plans… hotties don’t stay on the market long.

4. You are at a martini bar, you notice your friend hitting on a lame chick, do you:
a. Snatch friend away from lame chick and march them out of the bar straight home. Clearly they have had too much.
b. Laugh at said friend and make a note to tell friend next day, “dude chick was lame” and make sure that friend doesn’t do anything that could result in a baby.
c. Not notice, you were to busy having fun to spend all your time baby sitting an adult… besides you drove him there and you have the house keys, he can’t go anywhere without you… plus, maybe lame chick has a “great personality”

5. You have a friend acting like a complete idiot, in public and not in a cool manner, do you:
a. Ignore it, idiocy happens.
b. Call them out on it; friends don’t let friends be stupid faces.
c. Punch them in the face, tell them it’s cool, and then hug it out.

Scoring:

My Answers: C, B, Not Applicable as I am a girl and get asked I don't do the asking,B,C

Mostly A’s -- Hey you are one cool person, we’re sure, but you are no danger ranger. Don’t worry about it, not everyone can be one, each of us have special skills… don’t feel too bad, not being a danger ranger probably means you are certifiably sane.

Mostly B’s (This is where I typically score) -- Lower level danger ranger, probably could be talked in to more dangerous territory, this person grounds the crazier rangers when it becomes apparent that cliff diving at midnight is going to turn out super badly.

Mostly C’s – You are probably not sane, and that is cool. Sanity is overrated anyway. As long as you are cool with Jesus, responsible with your job and no one gets too hurt, then what the heck, might as well do it.

So there you have it kids…. Are you a Danger Ranger?

Still confused/Concerns/Added Quiz Questions, you know the drill…. Click the comment icon.

Memo World:

2007-01-09T15:26:00.000-08:00

Current Favorite Moments from Today:

SFCW--- asking me a question about the board, letting me answer 2/3rds of the way through and then being all never mind... rolls eyes, huffy. I despise huffy men. Men shouldn't be huffy.

Econ/Dev Board Meeting--- (And I quote) "Well this is the problem with your office, you have had 3 years to get this right and you fail every time"
Me--"uh. I have only been on the job 3 months, since October"
random board member "Well...you should have handled this last May."

Then there was: "why don't we take 25,000 and do this project"
Me: "where is this 25,000, we don't have 25,000 dollars anywhere, everything is allocated for 2007."
Random Board Member "well what we need is for you to find that money and use it to do this project."
Me---sigh.

Then I went to drink my hot chocolate and discovered it was ORANGE FLAVORED HOT CHOCOLATE. It sucked so freaking hard.

Now I am cranky, wanting my stupid hot chocolate and I need a nap.

Frenimies, of sorts.

2007-01-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

I have this friend. At least I think this person is my friend. Or this is my friend when they aren't making me feel absolutely craptastical about myself. So the question posed to the blog is: if the person makes you feel bad 10 percent of the time, but the rest of the time can be a pretty cool person to hang out with, do you stay friends with them or back off.

Because, part of me understands that I should just you know, SAY SOMETHING. Like "hey, you are hurting me," but the other part of me thinks, would I be wasting my time by mentioning anything... I mean in theory I know this person cares about me and during crunch time they have come through. But somedays it kind of feels like, they get a kick out of hurting my feelings (which makes me sound 12). I think somedays they think I can take it really well, because I tend to fake tough really well... and it isn't really fair to stop talking to someone without even mentioning why, right blog readers?

On a lighter note. My team plays in San Diego this weekend.... GO Patriots!

Casa De Meh ADD Blog

2007-01-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

This blog was written at different times by the roomie and myself. Enjoy.

The house stock is up. When we say stock is up, it just means, all of a sudden, boys are overly interested in taking us out, telling us we are pretty, etc. It's awesome, except it's not. They are all really nice guys, all really cute, and we don't want any of them. Sad.

###
A Sampling of the House Rules

1. No one can date, kiss, or engage in other behaviors with anyone the other roommate has kissed, dated, etc. UNLESS, given express clearance for what we call "a fly by"
Yeah, that means when you pick one of us, and for the purpose of this definition as soon as you kiss one of us you made your decision, you can't change your mind and re-pick, you are stuck with your original decision. As they say, "a house divided cannot stand." And no we have not previously published this rule, but that doesn't mean we give out exceptions.

2. No one let's anyone go out Fugly. These things should be saved for enemies of the house. Yes, we do have house most wanted list... be careful or else you will end up on it.

3. You never change the channel during the following shows: the Simpsons, anything with Dane Cook on, Grey's Anatomy or Ugly Betty.

4. First person up in the morning picks the morning picks the news program... she perfers fox, I like the Today Show.

5. When you leave the house, you take the spare not the heir. I.E. you can take the spare flat iron and blow dryer. The orginals stay in the house.

6. The roomie always gets the last piece of cake and the last cookie... otherwise she has a major fit.

7. Sometimes the hard smack of reality is necessary. Always serve said smack with a lovely frothy beverage.

We Are So Over, We Need a New Word for Over.

2007-01-03T15:25:00.000-08:00

Well officially, I am DONE with John Mayer. Surely, I know my fandom means naught to the man, but we are definitely OVER OVER. I accepted that absolutely nonsensical article about smoking pot in Rollingstone, I feel I dealt fairly well with the greasy homeless look he has been cultivating over the last year, John-boy, I embraced the live album where you butchered the Police, I gave you a good rotation on the IPOD, defended you from your detractors, never mocked the self-serving, oft-trite "Waiting on the World to Change" (tell me, what the hell have you done to make the world a better place as you were off finding yourself with a bong, a pipe and several illegal substances)

In essence, I have been a very supportive fan. Granted I never erected web pages in your honor, or spent any money going to a concert... but I did actually purchase your albums on Itunes, which should count for something.

But this... this is ridiculous. Jessica Simpson. J.Simp, she of chicken or tuna, she of an entourage whose sole purpose is to make her look good, she of "I can't remember the words to 9 to 5", she who makes Paris Hilton look like a Rhodes scholar, she of the "I totally don't believe in plastic surgery," whilst she cues up for another lip injection ("I don't know, it must have been the hormones/stress/blah blah blah that made my lips grow")

You have carte blanch to date/makeout with/sleep with, almost anyone and you pick the SUBPAR SIMPSON SISTER. The subpar, dumb Simpson sister. This is something I can not abide. I could have hung with almost anyone and everyone but J.SIMP. Hell naw.

So, it's over, I have removed you from the playlist, you are booted from the IPOD top 25, and I will mock you with impunity, unless you come to your senses, then I reserve the right to take you back.

A tip however, if you must date random hot blonds, I suggest flipping through Maxim and making your selections from there... upgrade my friend. It's all the rage for 2007, "upgrade to a chick with a brain."

I love Waffles. Happy New Years and Other Assorted Thoughts.

2007-01-02T15:01:00.000-08:00

Specifically, I love eggo frozen blueberry waffles. Which is why I dragged Luz and JM grocery shopping at uh... well about 11:30 at night.

Honestly, there is not much better (well actually there are lots of things better, but I digress, for the purpose of gross exageration, we shall say there is nothing better) than grocery shopping right around midnight. Why? Because they are always restocking the floor, and so you get an obstacle course right in your grocery store, plus you can randomly do preformance pieces in the cheese isle (Ha...you loved it JM). The highlight of the drive, getting 3 peoples groceries into a 2 door car, where the trunk was full.

Moving along, I am quite the barkeep it turns out. I made many a mixed drink this New Years, mostly because I was the designated driver so I needed something to do... I even invented one the Shanelle-Colada(it involved 99 Bananas... which is about 98 too many Bananas for some party goers) it was a smashing success. All in all, a fantastic party, sure your carpet will never be the same, and you actually played Ace of Base as part of the soundtrack, we overlook these missteps and say: Well played, danger ranger. Well played indeed.

I hope you all watched the Fiesta Bowl yesterday, what a phenomenal feat of Football. Fantastic... Tom Brady-esq, infact. Enough for me to reconsider my previous position on Idaho, which was that it was in the top 5 worst states in the union, with Indiana coming in with a strong first, Oklahoma, Alabama and Florida trailing in close for top honors.

I fear I could be Fugly.

2006-12-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, a rather famous hairstylist got his hands on my head.... I now have straight hair and mid-length bangs. I feel like I look like CRAP and am hence forth depressed, and committing to finding hats, headbands and the like to recover.

SOB.

Better Late than Never: Blogaversary! Holiday Edition Part 2

2006-12-28T14:11:00.000-08:00

Hi All. I am back from the frigid north, you thought I would forget blogaversary, didn't you? NEVER. So here it is, you know the drill, enjoy. Or Don't. Whatever

1. My favorite ornaments are these small satined stuffed bears that are in skittles colors. I probably picked them out at age 3, in Pic'n'Save. They are a little ratty and faded. I don't care. I L.O.V.E the bears.

2. I have never ever been the kid that gets up early to look at presents. Every year my mom has to wake me up... I think it annoys her. Ha. It's not like the presents are going somewhere.

3. We eat Christmas Breakfast, not Christmas Dinner, at our house. Probably, because my mom didn't see the point in whipping up a big dinner for 2.

4. The strangest Christmas I ever experienced, was Vegas, senior year of college. I was going to visit my then boyfriend and pretty much hung out on the strip Christmas night, one would think...meh, it's Christmas, I am not going to gamble the nights away. But. Nooooooooooooooo. People were out in full force, happily dragging their kids from slot to slot. (Yes. Nate. I know you had a great jolly time in Vegas during your delayed flight, but frankly, you are weird)

5. My christmas stocking rocks. One year, my mom thought "oh, I will just get her a new one... so cute." I pretty much threatened to boycott christmas if my dang stocking was not found and put up.... it's mine, I have had it for 25 years, I am having it for 25 more. No body touches Red.... or Santa gets it.

Happy Belated Holidays and Happy Birthday Jesus (Of course, for accuracies’ sake... never let it be said this blog is inaccurate, I will point out Jesus was probably born around Aug/Sept during the time of census and harvest (hence the reason for all the animals in the manger etc.) and not in the middle of winter)

Back in the Saddle

2006-12-27T19:36:00.000-08:00

Well it is 7:20, and I am sitting in the middle of the airport with my ridiculously overpriced bottle of water (R.O.B.W) contemplating life. At 12 oz for $3.00, it better be water that makes me thinner, smarter, and married to Tom Brady. Never one to let an opportunity for random blog musings go unfulfilled, I have broken out my computer.

Reflexively, I always check out the people who I get on a plane with, after all you never know who you are going to be plummeting to your death with.

As I sit here with R.O.B.W my mind wanders to the myth of the airplane hottie. You know the great hope of every flight: that you will get seated next to a hot guy/girl on the plane. You will chat, exchange numbers etc…. after all what is a more low pressure situation then talking to someone with the knowledge that in 3 hours you never have to see them again unless you want to. I am here today to dispel said myth. When has it ever happened to you, personally, I mean we have all heard the stories, but that’s what they are stories… just like the story of the mythical unicorn or the rarer “guy who likes talking on the phone.” Now before anyone sends me random emails I realize there are hot people in the world, those people have ridden on planes before, therefore the lore of the airplane hottie is true. Except it is not, every time that I get on a plane, I get stuck with 3 people: the old (fat) man, the late 20’s/early 30’s career guy in khaki’s

Aside, as a rule, I FREAKING hate khaki pants…they look like someone let you out of suburbia in an ill fitting school uniform. Um, what about ill fitting slightly dirty colored pants and a wrinkled generic Costco brand polo sounds like a good plan. Not to mention, this apparently is the uniform of the Northwest, and frat guys the world over, so I get to spend the next 5 days seeing it over and over and over…

As pleasant a digression that was, lets jump back on point, where was I? Ah yes, early career guy, who looks like his workouts consist of lifting the fork to his face and who spends the whole dang flight talking to me (or more specifically talking to my boobs) about… his car, his job or his fraternity. And the married family guy, my favorite of the three, because all he wants to do is read his magazine or talk about his kids. Oddly enough, I never get seated next to girls.

This flight I am apparently going to be sitting next to a man in Khaki’s, a Red Polo and a Santa hat… I will let you know how it goes, but I am pretty sure he wants to talk to me about the good ol'days at the alma mater.

Tom Brady is SINGLE...

2006-12-18T08:43:00.000-08:00

There is no point to that announcement other than to say... YAY.

So this weekend was.... interesting to say the least. In brief, there was a car accident, a man who may or may not have thought I was a very expensive hooker, a trip to the ghettoist ER ever, a crazed Christmas pagent; complete with dancing freaking monkey (which as you know was DEFINITELY apart of the Nativity, with the dancing monkey as Jesus clapped his wee baby hands in delight...insert derisive eyeroll here); a snowday... where I broke off some sweet baby Oprah like wisdom to my high school helpers, and I finished off with a rockin' concert by a dear friend of mine.

What... you don't want the brief version of the stories....ha. Well I am happy to oblige. Where to start. Well, since we here at the Blog never want to be accused of being dull, so we are going to start smack dab in the middle.

On Saturday night, I went to the annual Wilson Christmas Party. I had just gotten a new grey mini dress to honor the occassion, and well because I had gotten these stellar knee high boots two weeks ago, and now I am pretty much just building outfits around them. Grey Mini Dress, this really cute black top, I think I need formal shorts to go with... the fact that I said formal shorts should be enough for Morgan to wonder if I am drinking...the answer is no, but I digress. Anywho, I had just gotten comfortable and was chatting up a friend that I see approximately 2 times a year. When my phone rings, yeah. Hysterical Roommate, Line ONE. She had crashed her car and was in an ambulance incoherantly sobbing and trying to tell me where she was. When I finally calmed her down, I got to chat up a nice young paramedic, who directed me to Pacifica Hospital in LA. Not knowing where that was I grabbed my friend Luz and immediately left to go get her. (For the record, my roommate is fine, her ex-boyfriend is a *in the words of my friend Ben* a Douche and decidedly a stupid face in my estimation, because my roommate is hot and awesome)

Yeah, Pacifica Hospital is a *county* hospital.... in LA that typically means it is pretty much means it looks like a reject from a really bad depressing movie and is generally underfunded and poorly mangaged. When we got there, we got nametags with smiley faces and a black crossed out "hi my name is" and in it's place a crudely written "ER, accident visitor". Hooray. So I get there, and I can't go into see the roommate, whom I have already promised to kill as long as she was okay. The lovely techs there at the ER stopped and stared at me as I walked in... along with some police officers, who started to follow me . I thought to myself "oh, caring peace officers, so good of you to watch me walk in as this is a somewhat scary area." Then I realized that it wasn't that I looked like I need an escort, it was that by this hospitals standards, I looked like an escort (for the record MOM, I wasn't wearing anything slutty, it was the dang boots) Great. I finally got into see the roommate, and she was fine, THANK GOD, because the honor of killing her was going to have to go to ME. Apparently, she was driving and her phone rang and when she went to grab it, she hopped a curb and went into some bushes... the Paramedics brought her in because she had panicked and passed out, so she had to get a CT. Meanwhile, my friend kept calling me for directions to the party... which meant everytime my phone rang, I had to do a sprint for the exit doors so that the old mean security guard didn't throw me outof the hospital. And yes, friend knew I was at the ER and called anyway, over and over... good thing I REALLY love her.

Right, now let's move backwards in time to Thursday night, when I got taken to a Christmas pagent... indeed possibly the worst christmas pagent of all time. So I get invited by new boy to pagent. I figure what the heck, might be interesting. Uh... it was a spectacle of bad taste and extreme christian wackiness. So we get there and I gather the whole premise was now, the nativity story PLUS your favorite holiday music danced to by a bunch of hopped up teenagers... all loosely held together by a story line involving a........ Bus Driving Pastor who was going to BUS DRIVING PASTOR SCHOOL(would that be Jesus's Greyhound Pastoral School or more of a city effort with Government funding??? Cause I know that when I hop on a bus {wait pause for a moment and pretend I actually go on the bus} all I really want is my freaking bus driver waxing poetic about Jesus, and I am a fan o' Jesus.) WTF. No Really. WTF. So as we are sitting there, with a MINI blimp with the name of the church floating above our heads. They transition from "Let it snow" to Mary coming out with a live baby (who one hopes was mute otherwise he is now blind and deaf) singing about what child is this. At this point, the roughly half Jewish side of my lineage, recoils in abject horror. Ah... it is odd when your mothers sensiblities start hitting you. So, I am randomly cracking jokes because to take this "christmas" story serious would require either me smoking crack or humor. When they transitioned from "What Child is This" to..... A DANCING MOTHERFRACKING MONKEY. Um...eh..ah... yeah... I still can't really comprehend this happened, so that is all I am going to say. So we get to the end of the "christmas story" which basically ends with the alcoholic father discovering he was wrong and being cured of alcoholism (which after this play I might take up) and a big finale number. You'd think it was over right... RIGHT... how does one top a DANCING MOTHERFRACKING MONKEY.... ah... with Forced Conversion.... Everyone had to bow there head and repeat, that they believed in Jesus, then they asked for a show of hands to see how successful they were.... and this ladies and gentlemen is why all my non-christian friends think church is full of people who aren't sane.

Flash Forward to Sunday... I work at kids church at my sane church, and they brought in snow for the kids to play in. It was a great time.... for the children. I spent most of my days dealing with five year olds making ice balls and launching them at each other and going down what should have been a sleding area, but quickly, due to the heat, became an ice luge that the kids would step on to to "sled" fall and slide down thereby knocking over 5 other children, it was like bowling with live kids. HA. The kids loved it, all of them were wet, dirty and snotty.... AWESOME.

On my kids church team, I have 4 high schoolers, they always give me the latest in their drama, mostly because I despense such wisdom as "Look, I wasn't a whore in High School and neither should you" and of course "for real, you need to stay the eff out of it" and then there is the perennial favorite "Yeah, having slumber parties together is how accidental sex happens, I suggest you find, I dunno, a new birthday idea," and they wonder why I am not a youth leader. For the record , it is because in general, except for the like 8 I like, I despise high schoolers and because the youth leaders at my church have actual biblical wisdom to dispense, I have practical guidance... like don't be a ho at halloween... doing drugs seems like an expensive habit and really... girls jeans are for GIRLS. Anyways, I got a HS newbie this week, and he was super "my life is over" because his girlfriend of 3 months, is being all weird and emotional. So I ask, how old is she... he is like 14... hahaha, I told him... good luck, girls don't know anything til 24 ish... and he was like "But why... she said she loved me" so I gave it to him with the crushing presence of REALITY..."buddy, this relationship isn't gonna last past winter formal, suck it up and go hang out with your boys... other girls will come around,"

"Am I sure?" choke and sob

"Yeah buddy, you will be fine, nobody taps out at 17... buck up and go play some video games or whatever kids these days do," I said... then "uh... maybe I should give you some biblical crap to consider how about... In the begining god created light or whatever."

He wasn't sure at first, he thought if he got super depressed she would feel bad and come back to him...when I stopped laughing (which he eventually started doing because he relized the wisdom of my words or because he got nervous,) I sent him off to go play with one of the other kids new Playstation3.

Finally, shout out to Mr. Jeremy Graham, JP and others...who played a rockin', I repeat rockin' christmas bluesfest. You guys were so AWESOME... it made me wanna learn to play something other than the radio.

Miss Communication.

2006-12-15T11:30:00.000-08:00

Warning... not so much funny in this blog... more rambling stream of consciousness.
Or something like that.

It is funny how much sense I make when I am not discussing my own life... I am an excellent communicator, for the love, I work in communications... and as previously discussed in the Blog, I have embraced my inner baby oprah, giving out relational, professional and general advice, just like Santa does at Christmas... and yet, I am utterly at a loss on how to handle my own life at times. I wonder if it is because I am still growing into my own skin, or perhaps more aptly it is because I have a really really really hard time embracing things that don't make sense to me.

Let me be more specific, accidental or no, I have this vision of how friendships should work, how relationships work, how dates work, how god works, how families work, etc.... and when things don't resemble what I see in my head, I either a) reject them as inadequate or b) analyze them till I can break them into things I understand. Maybe it is because growing up (and this is so not a criticism Mom) I didn't always have what I wanted so I made up reasons in my head why I didn't and how they would work if I did, maybe it is reflective of my need for emotional orderliness. For example, in the family in my head the way families work is that the Dad works, the mom stays home and they all go to church together like happy, suburbanites and in my head, boy/girl relationships always go, boy meets girl, they become best of friends, and one day he falls head over heels for girl... they get married (see how families work for the rest) and God works like this, if you are good enough and you try your hardest to be a good christian, then your life doesn't get messed up... you get a mom and a dad, and a great job and things just work... Now rationally, before anyone says anything... I realize that this is not necessarily the case... I know sometimes you just play the cards dealt, it's not like all those kids in Africa who are starving, did something wrong, or don't work hard at being "good." Which as J pointed out... is subjective. But somedays, most days in my head... I think I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out the combination to life that gives me the life I built in my head... which probably makes me insane, idealistic or overtly hopeful... probably all 3.

The other day a friend said that my problem is that I categorize things and life doesn't have categories. It is probably true since it sounds like something one of my boys would say, For the newbies (waves to Azina) my boys are 3 friends of mine from college nicknamed on the blog as (Jase, J and the Ex) who I have been friends with for a long long time and as such know me really really well and whose advise I usually listen to above all others (unless it totally goes against my jesus loving reasoning)... mostly because I know they love me regardless of what I choose, will tell me the truth even when it really hurts and because I know they would go to the mat for me over and over if I asked.

I don't know if that is necessarily a bad thing, wanting categories, look at how much easier it makes things: War = Bad, Food = Good, Giant Romantic Moments = Good, Break-ups = Bad.

It seems like to me a rational response to a world that is full of dynamic relations (in this case, dynamic is being used in a web form, meaning constantly changing and shifting) as opposed to static (which means something is fixed and not capable of action or change.) Besides to me, I think when I leave something undefined... I admit that I can't understand it, and that bothers me... not understand things... (a completely seperate issue, my defence mechanism of reverting to being smart as a self-identifier)

I guess this whole categorizing things ends up hurting me in the long run especially since I am beginning to think, most people don't think like I do. I sure as hell know my boys don't. They are perfectly happy to ride things out... all while I am trying to organize it into something probably reflecting something that has an easy solution or at the very least, a solution.

I am open to thoughts on this, perhaps you think I am being overtly simplistic, or that I am just being stupid or maybe a little of what I said made sense... I dunno. But hey whatever.

I promise the next blog will be more humorous... I am sure the scathing recap of my time at the craziest christmas pagent ever will amuse.

Hate is a Strong Word, but I Really, Really, Really Don't Like You.

2006-12-12T09:20:00.000-08:00

Just so you all know, that song is fantastic, when shouted by your roommate to her non-existant (well, non-call backy) boyfriend as you drive her home, drunk as hell, from the Karaoke Bar.

Good Times.

Let's recap shall we.

Well yesterday, it was Monday, and Monday is Karaoke Night. We had decided to go out on Monday, after unilaterally deciding that a. Boys Suck, b. Josh (roomies bf) sucks and c. We were too pretty to wait on a guy to realize how awesome we were. (Ahem, if you are reading this blog and you are a guy, chances are I am not talking about you sucking, because hey how could you suck, you are reading the blog...) The best part about living at my house is that we are utterly supportive of each others likes and dislikes. For example, if I go on a bad date, or the guy I like doesn't treat me great or the BF stops calling (like he did yesterday) or she feels sad, the other will complete fall into line with either the he's so awesome mindset, or we hate all boys and must go out and remind each other how awesome we are mindset.... so while I don't have any severe boy trama, I wholeheartedly concur that boys suck, josh sucks, and we were too pretty to be treated like crap. So we got dressed and went out.

Round One-(I was the designated driver, so my round one was Diet Coke, Roomie- Miller Light and a Shot of Patron (double))- Our waitress LisaMarie was super cool she brought chilled double shots, and listened to my roommate rant for ten minutes on how she gets treated like crap, and I inspire apathy (pronounced after 2 shots of patron as a-pap-athy, by the roomie and aside... truly, is there anything worse than a guy being all Meh-y about you, it totally cuts down on self-worth, apparently LisaMarie and I have the same issue... the boys like us, but not enough to write songs about us, which seems like a stupid thing to want, but seriously, I WISH I could inspire boys to write rage songs, but apparently, not) and the roomie got up to sing a little Fiona Apple "Limp". Forget Alanis Morrissette, Fiona Apple has the market cornered on girl music...

Round 2- (Iced Water-Me, Kamakazzee Shots and another shot of Patron for the Roomie) The bitter bitter girl rantings (roomie) continuted, only at this point they got a little funny. The we started playing "I Wish." "I wish," is a game that the roomie and I invented a little over 2 years ago when we had crap jobs. One person starts with a wish that is just never going to happen and the other has to raise said wish.
"Well, I wish that everything in the world was free just for us,"
Roomie-"well, I wish that XXXX wasn't a stupid face,"
Me- "I wish, Tom Brady, would fall in love with me and tell me I am the smartest most bestest girl in the world."
Roomie- "HA, well I WISH, that I had 3 million dollars, and I could have a new car and clothes, plus tongiht Josh will stand out side of our house with a boombox tears in his eyes and declare his undying love"...
Then we laugh about the never going to happen of it all... yes, we are slightly ridiculous at times.
LisaMarie even joined in... You rock LisaMarie.
Roomie sings, Hook by Blues Traveler

Round 3 -(Ice for me. Kamakazee Shots for the Roomie... JM, Nate, Ben*nate's brother*, Scott and Roxy--- beers) Nor is a happy girl at this point, happy and enraged. Funtastic. When all of a sudden JM thinks it's a great idea to ask the roomie, where is the BF. For the record gents, if you see a girl with several shot glasses in front of her,furiously writing down Fiona Apple or Alanis songs, DO NOT ASK WHERE HER BF IS. Clearly. So JM buys round 4 of the roomie's booze. Patron.
JM sings Taking Back Sunday.
Around this time, a girl kills the whole Karoke Computer System by wanting to sing Paris Hilton stars are blind. So the bar helps out by acapellaing, Jingle Bells and then for equalities sake... the Driedal Song. HA... Ben provides amusement by cracking my roommate and me up with stupid stories about nate.

Round 4 (Nothing for me. Double Chilled Patron and Miller Light for Roomie) Around this time, the roomie wanted the phone I took away from her back. Thankfully, friends don't let friends drunk dial and RANT. Around this time, the roomie and I thought it would be a great idea to peel off beer labels and wear them as eye patches, so we could be the Beer pirate twins, (hahaha, when I do supportive, I go all the way supportive. Love it.) General chit chat around the table includes Nate's hitting on Paris Hilton Girl, why Ben was crazy as a young guy, ASVAB scores and helicopters. All had while we wore beer pirate patches.
Nor talks Ben into doing Micheal and Janet Jackson's Scream.

Round 5 (nothing for Me... roomie is still working on Miller Light) Drunk Roomie with me as backup sings... Salt-n-peppa "none of your business" I am not really sure if I was Salt or Peppa, but my job was to say None of you Business... loudly at the right intervals.... HA... We did get raucous applause, it could have been cause we were so bad... whatever.

Round 6 (water here, more Miller or maybe the same Miller for Roomie) Drunk Roomie and Ben preform Scream... complete with running man, ass shaking and a little slithering. Ben didn't know the words but he made up for it with style, pizzazz and a complete willingness to make a fool out of himself. Frankly, I find those qualities admirable in a man... Ben. Whereever you are. You Rock and you are more than welcome to crash Karaoke anytime.

Finally Nate closed out the night for us, with a "livin' la vida loca," back up dancers (that would be me and roomie) included. He put Ricky Martin to shame.

Then we took off for home, roomie yelling the song and me trying to keep her drunk ass in the car. Off to McDonalds we went, for some super sized fries.... I would tell you the story of the McDonalds drive through, but I want to save something for another day. But be aware, the McDonalds story involves a poor server named Luis and my roommate dang near breaking up his marriage. Ha.

A modern day bra-burning, only not, because that would be expensive.

2006-12-11T09:10:00.000-08:00

I had a not so fun Sunday, for some reason I couldn't shake this feeling that something was off... you know how they say that your twenties are supposed wild and crazy and fun.... but most days it feels as though my twenties are crazy, work filled and sometimes fun. Perhaps it's me. Anyways, so I called on of my boys to talk it out, or at least engage in idle chit chat until I felt better. (By the way TBS, I see you blatently ripping off my life with this "my boys" show, bitches) I love that I can call my boys and actually not feel bad about talking to them on the phone, usually with guys you have about 5 minutes to capture there interest, and that is assuming they want to touch you inappropriately, because otherwise they won't get on the phone with you. So we were talking about football (my poor Tom Brady got slaughtered) and this new girl he is dating, and the date that I had gone on recently. The date I had gone on was an accidental date, you know the kind where you sorta find out mid-way through it that you are out on a date.... which I think is just a testiment to the type of guys I deal with out here in LA.

Sidenote- WTF is wrong with you, that you actually passively go on dates, this is the christian method of dating.... the "hangout." As in let's you and me, "hangout" one on one, and I will pay for dinner etc, but we are totally just "hanging out"... um, what do you think a date is genius.

Anyways, in the middle of this conversation with the Ex, whom the blog knows and loves, I realized, that half the crap that I stress about, I bring upon myself. I overanalyze and overworry myself into more trama than it's worth, which by the way is a v. meh thing to do. So new challenge for me, I am doing the things I like, I want and I am done with the rest (A modern day bra burning).... we will see how this all falls out in the next week. But so far so good, I told SFCW to kiss it this morning, it felt liberating.

In other news, you know you live in Los Angeles when the standard "what do you give your mail person for xmas story" actually becomes "what do you give your stylist, for the holidays"

BWAH...

Drunk Dials are Fun.

2006-12-10T13:49:00.000-08:00

So last night, I came home from a holiday party, hopped on my email and sent out a quick note to my friends and prepared for bed, because I was super super sick to my stomach. When the phone rang... here is a transcript of the conversation:

"Hello"<---that is me
"HElllllllllllllllllllllo.whhhhhhhhoooooooooooooooo.................-----, heyhiitsme" <---- Roomie
"---, what are you doing"
"---, whaaaaaaaaaahoooooooooooooooooooooooo, a;lkdnfe;ne tequila....click"

Cue 5 Minutes later
ring
"whahhhhhhhoooooo, Meh. Hi, IsmDrunk, sdrunk.....wkane;lkn ioe yay"
"---, for real, I am going to bed. CLICK"

5 minutes later
"whaooooooooooooooooooooo, crash, hahahahah, bar-cardi"
"Dude, you are so stupid face, stop calling"
"Stupid face is the meanest thing ever, take it back..."
Then a 5 minute discussion on stupid face happened. uh... wtf is wrong with me, drunk people don't like logic.

Note, friends never let friends drunk dial... We are still waiting on word if her and the boyfriend broke up, again.

All I want for Christmas... is to NEVER SING KARAOKE again.

2006-12-05T09:11:00.000-08:00

On Mondays, every once in awhile, I go to karaoke... in the past, I never sang on stage, I heartily sang along with people on stage, I clapped for excellent preformances by my friends and I hang out... in general a good time. However, yesterday I actually sang. It was midst my "singing" I had a REVELATION.

I have absolutely NO DESIRE to ever be on stage... not acting, not singing, not dancing, not poetry reading, nothing.

Which is odd. Consider: I am no one's idea of a low-maintenance girl... I, in general, love attention, I love people and talking and being silly with my roommate...for the love, I work in communications, I have given speeches to groups, held press conferences, and given interviews for situations I would rather not be interviewed for....

And yet...put me on a (karaoke) stage and I start freaking out... and by freaking out I mean getting deathly silent and looking out in horror. It is like reverso world (no, I have no idea if reverso world exists, but for arguements sake we will call it Noom) where you put the shy people on at karoke and 2 choruses in, all of a sudden they are writhing, emotive messes, singing some ode to Mariah Carey... high kicks, ass shaking, ear holding, wailers. Meanwhile, I stand there playing with my fingers behind my back and hope to god, the song is almost over. I don't think most of my friends get how absolutely horrifing it was for me to be on any sort of stage that involves singing.... it may be my inner stoic Englishness from my grandparents or the fact that I try not to run around doing things I know I am gonna be horrible at... but yeah... karaoke = bad.

Other thoughts: I would like to take this moment to say, I have a much greater appreciation for those that can karaoke... call me, I love your work. I would also like to say... "no, Morgan, I will not karaoke again just so you can see it"
And give a shout out to those who drink Guinness, which I discovered last night is Irish for "mud we place in a can with a tab and sell to unsuspecting stupid faces" or gaelic for "sludge," latin for "Optimus Disgustus." You guys have tougher stomach's than I, drink on, friends, drink on.

Finally, to Nate... who forever changed NIN "Closer" with your holiday rendition... I am pretty sure you found the true heart or Reznor's song... I am also pretty sure somewhere Santa is crying.

Instant Message is the smoking gun of DEATH in my friendships.

2006-12-01T09:48:00.000-08:00

So... I cut myself off today, it's been hard, since I currently am more addicted than Britney is to bad taste. What is it you say, well from the title you can see... it is INSTANT MESSAGING. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give women (or by women... I mean me) a way of INSTANTLY contacting others when she is bored, wants attention, or other such things, was a very very bad man (actually a man couldn't have thought up instant message... no man wants to be contacted constantly... this v. bad plan was thought up by a woman) It starts off so slow... a hi here, a What's up there, and then all of a sudden I find myself posting long diatribes and theorys to friends who actually NEED to do work at their jobs... but love me enough to try and stick with me in the middle of conversations that not only NEVER should be had over IM, I am willing to bet probably NEVER should have been discussed ever (sidenote... sorry Scott, Ben, Leanne, Chrissie, James, and Jon Mark, you guys get super friends awards!... super super aside, most of these peeps are boys, boys have no problems using IM, because boys only say something when they have to or for funny's sake.... damn me and my chatty cathy ways)

IM is dangerous for a multitude of reasons, but for me... part of it is tone... you can't read tone in an IM and I am totally that chick that reads tone wrong...plus, again that whole constant talking thing... there really isn't much to say all day to anyone.... and yet... I tried.

It took an intervention to get me to quit IM...all 3 of my boys, sent me this message (paraphrased) If I talk to you anymore on this thing, I swear I am going to start hating you... this thing is killing our friendship more than any of your other eccentricities (I believe the actual phrase was overthought out girl panic moments) over the LAST 8 years, I don't even talk to my GIRLFRIEND this much.

Followed up by... Quoted-- "I say this with love... but shut the fuck up." (sorry ma, it was a quote)

When your closest friends are itching to kill you, it's time to quit. So I removed the IM hardware from my computer this morning... and I'm jonesing... for outside communications... for the chance to discuss stupid things like life, love and toast.... but they say the first days are the hardest, so hopefully I get by...
I have to before I actually IM my friends into oblivion...

Blogaversaary--- Holiday Edition Part 1

2006-11-23T11:57:00.000-08:00

This and the next Blogaversary! will focus of the Holidays. But other than that, I believe you know the drill by now. Enjoy. Or Not. Whatever.

1. More than anything growing up, but especially during the holidays, I wanted to live on the east coast. It represented everything about the holidays that I wanted to be apart of… the Macy’s parade, the giant Christmas tree. I think Home Alone 2 heavily influenced me in this desire, but it still stands.
2. I love holiday music my two favorites are “Christmas Eve Sarajevo,” by the Transberian Orchestra and “All I want for Christmas” by Mariah (Pre-Black.) By the way at our house the latter is blared and there is a dance routine!
3. I have only had a boyfriend during Christmas once in my life. The guys I dated off and on, we were always off during the holidays…(which may or may not have been their plan!) Someday, I plan on doing all the romantic stuff you see in movies during the holidays though. It will probably be an unmittigated diaster, nonetheless, it will happen.
4. I already have a semi-list of traditions I want to do with my family when I have one. But the one that my mom and I always do is buy toys and clothes for children on the Christmas Angel List you find in the mall. This has been going on for as long as I can remember, mostly because I think when I was little my mom wanted me to always remember that I wasn’t on that tree. And then when I was older because it is really fun. I recommend you all do it.
5. I despise Eggnog. For real, how is raw egg and rum a good drink, however, ever freaking year, I attempt to try it in order to really get the holiday spirit. My friend always attempts to get me to try a new type of eggnog. And every year like clockwork: I grab my small mug. Take a sip. And realize it was a bad bad plan. Nevertheless, she tarries on, determined to find some sort of eggnog I will drink. This year, my roomie is shoveling the Puerto Rican Eggnog. Uh, whilst, the Puerto Ricans have done many things right, my roomie, Jennifer Lopez, etc, eggnog will NEVER be their strong suite.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ALL.

Casa de Meh!

2006-11-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

We here at Meh (we in this case being the royal we, with occassional help from the roomie) enjoy a great many things. Like cupcakes... yummy gooey frosting, a miniture peice of happiness you need not slice, nor dirty any silverware over. And The Simpsons. And earings. And stilleto heels. And fantastic hair. And the game I wish. And Party Panties. And really really great kisses. And Tom Brady. In fact, we here at Casa de Meh, are certain that Brady and really great kisses belong together!

We also despise a great many things, for example VPL,really drunk girls, Kevin Federline, Mariah Carey-Post Black, Whitney Houston-Post Crack, department stores and of course, most tv shows on CBS.

But now, NOW, we have a new thing to embrace for the sake of procrastination and deep rooted discussion. The List.

Yes, this week has been a time of High Fidelitying up with Top 5 or Top 10 EVERYTHING.

Thus far... We have ranked top 5 kisses. Top 10 Worst Songs Ever. And we are gearing up to work with JM on making a list of the Top 10 Best Songs EVER. I may give out these lists for a later date. With the names of all the top 5 kiss partners changed. This list thing has revolutionized my work schedule... and provided deep thought IM's like...

"If we put the Macarena on there, we are obligated to put that Tootsie roll Song" and
"I disagree that Celine Dion should be shot for that Titanic mess... blame Dicaprio"
and of course
"I want it that way... which way are they talking about"

It's so simple, it's freaking complex. Further thoughts on life by me.

2006-11-16T12:51:00.000-08:00

The big secret is finally out, boys... and you have one of your own to blame, my friend J let it slip out via a long email. In this email he informed me thatI am high maintenance and .....DRUMROLL PLEASE.... the more a girl flat out ignores a boy, the more he wants her. See. That is the exact opposite of how rational women react... the more we like you the more we actually pay attention to you. This clearly creates an unbalence in the universe of dating.

I was glad I recieved this revelation. Now I know what to do with the next boy I like... ignore the heck out of him.

For years now, I have heard nothing from every guy I know but, "whaaaaaaaaaa... I don't want a chick who is into games, and drama" This revelation today gave me my Baby Oprah AHA moment... yes you do.... you totally do. This is like the chick who states "I hate drama, I am so not into drama." Boys, as soon as any girl states this in a random conversation with you... you can rest assured, she probably is the drama that she hates so much. Drama queens hate drama because it takes away from their star times. Men who say "I hate games," are totally the guys who play them... they only hate them because if they notice games being played, the other player is probably better at it than they are.

In other news, I have been dubbed High Maintenance, by some of my college friends re:my college guy friends. How is it that years have passed by and I never knew this about me. Now before anyone gets the wrong impression, I am not HM in that, buy me, buy me kind of way... nor am I high maintenance in the you can't have any other friends but me way... so I guess I am HM in that I require some sort of time... time calling, time spending etc. Now, they still love me, but apparently I am totally not that girlfriend that you don't call for weeks on end and then finally do call and everything is super yay cool. To which my response is "Yes, fine... hello I AM A CHICK"

For Real, I don't give a Crap.

2006-11-15T11:25:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, I didn't get to say all this to the actual person. But in the spirit of changing the world one crazed person at a time.

I present, an open letter to the random dude who asked me out today:

First, spare me your bromidic, juvenille musings on the following: how you know directors, producers and other famous people, how you could totally get me a job in movies, and how you're working for xyz company now, but really you have connections and could be a president, partner, ruler of the world, if you just made a few phone calls. Honestly, I could give a crap about who you know, who you think you know or who you wish you knew when you dreamed up whatever B.S you thought would get me to find you attractive and consent to a date. Yes, I am that bitchy.

Second, throwing a resume at me, doesn't make me want to date you either. I don't care you where you went to school, or what your GPA was when you were there, I do care that you have shown up in my office theoretically, to discuss your "doctoral thesis" and instead spent quality time (that would be my quality time) telling me all about how you have so many "ladies" after you and how you're so "pressed" by all the many many people that want you to run their companies for them. I don't find the use of slang during a business meeting to be attractive; you know what I do find atractive, men who use the English language well.

Lastly, I'm not sure you know this about me, but let me take a moment to clarify things. When you keep "accidentally" running into me , I am more likely to want to punch you, and less likely to want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with you. Also, you trying to bond with me over how "brothers and sisters" like us can't get ahead, is inane at best and racist at worst. My friends, ahem... that would be all the people I would rather be talking to you than you, and my co-workers are lovely people, who have been nothing but supportive of me and my career. Me answering a phone at my office does not equal a violation of civil rights and it certianly doesn't make Martin Luther King Jr. roll over in his grave,people accusing other people of racism for no reason, probably does. You are not my brother, I am not your sister, and if I was I probably would spend a great deal of time explaining how you should, ENUNCIATE.

Thanks for taking up 2 hours of my day random man, allowing me the great pleasure of having to stay at work to finish the projects I could have been doing had you not wasted my time.

Best,
Me

Beware of the Ghosts of Dating Past

2006-11-12T10:42:00.000-08:00

Nothing like seeing at least 3 ex-boyfriends in one location to make you wanna either cry, scream or runaway in terror.

Okay for starters, I am not one of those girls who is super-best friends with any of my ex’s with the exception of one, who the blog knows as The Ex (And You are my favorite of all, Love), but that is the exception not really the rule for me. When I break up, I break the heck up… none of this get back together break up crap.

Now that I am 26, uh…yuck 26! I have learned there are fundamental truths about me that probably drove my ex-boyfriends nuts. One of which is, I am a big time person, which means I probably invite you to too many things and will call anyone I want whenever I have something to say….totally against all sorts of dating/being friends with boys rules, For me, I know you like me based on how much time you are willing to spend with me. Now in my youth, it had to be face time, now that I am older, I realize the talk time, IM, and email time a guy spends with you should also be counted as love… because for the most part, they could take or leave talking any which way but in person. I know Jase and J, and The Ex love me because even if they are busy, they usually respond to email and IM’s…. thanks guys! You know you are close friends when you are being annoying and still know with absolute certainty that your friends aren’t going to hold it against you the next day.

But back in my youth, I needed a ton of face time, which I guess was part of the insanity of dating me… that is why re-seeing an ex-boyfriend is always nerve racking, you pretty much know that they are wondering how you’ve changed in the last few years…and your just hoping they don’t remember all the times you were slightly insane (personal favorite, at age 20, I totally didn’t understand why my boyfriend wanted to hang out with his guy friends… I thought if he loved me he should want to spend ALL his time with me… bwaaaaaahahaha, no wonder he got frustrated, since we have mutual friends, it is possible you could read this… I am sorry for the craaaaaazy) and instead remember how you always made their favorite meal really really well.

The cardinal rule of re-seeing your ex-boyfriends for me is to always make sure you look, freaking AMAZING and are breezy and AWESOME. Never pick a fight, never be anything other than the cool chick your friends clearly recognize, and most definitely no discussion of why’d we break up. When you are about to meet up with 5 ex’s 2 of whom broke your heart and the other 2 whose heart you smashed, and one mutual break-up these things have to be taken to heart. But seeing all those boys who have in some ways shaped who I am, it is not easy. Especially since I often feel as though I should apologize for I dunno, me age 18 – 22, (see above apology). Really the only good that has ever come from those years is the fact I am much better at identifying crazzzzzzy for my friends. I wonder if boys have the same issue when they run into their ex’s. Anyways, I survived running into all those ex-boyfriends; one of them said, I have gotten much cooler now that I have calmed the hell down (HA, I have always been into boys who call it like they see it) Yep, you guys are pretty cool too. I am glad I dated you, Mr. I hate commitment, Mr. Bad kisser, and Mr. Boring, you guys made me a better person…and in case you found my blog, good luck figuring out which one you were.

Coming Up... the recap of the world's worst game and my time with La Raza

The Long Ride Home

2006-11-08T14:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday JM got a new car. Well a new, not new car, that his friend is having him car-sit for 3 weeks. It is some sort of Porche...I say some sort, because there are many types, but his one is newer and makes growwwwwwwwly noises when it accelerates. As we were driving along in it, down the freeway, with me squeeling and clapping with delight. I discovered something about me:

Sports car going fast = SEXYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

Now this deviates from my previous position of "what the heck are you compensating for, stupid face" reaction to sports cars. I really didn't get the appeal of a tiny tiny car that goes fast. I was always more a sports utility, "hey I'm outdoorsy, sporty, don't mind dirt, can build you something some day I will be a family man" kind of girl. Probably because 90 percent of the men who own sports cars look like absolute underexercised, balding chumps.

But this time, I got to experience the magic, and I did have to let go of a few (not all ) sterotypes, mostly because I love my friend JM and do not think of him as a chump. For example, the reason why the people in sports cars drive the way they do, is because the car requires that ammount of action. To ill-use the sports car is to date a VS model and only see her in sweats (thanks for the comparison J, I am not sure if it is apt, but whatever)

Anyways, JM took me on a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng drive. It was actually quite relaxing; leaving the incessant buzz of the city behind, going somewhere where you can see stars.

I ruthlessly stole this post from my friend lisa.

2006-11-06T16:53:00.000-08:00

Wanna see something revealing about me... check out my personality test pig. Morgan, especially you, then go do one yourself.

http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/gallery/large.asp?id=1270175&p=0&hof=1&q=personality+test

Then do it yourself:
http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/index.asp

The Wait is Ovah, Halloween, The Recap, Part Duex

2006-11-05T17:21:00.000-08:00

Otherwise known as the one where, I get a hero. So off we wander to the streets of Freaksville. First thing noticeable, is that I am really as naive as Jase says I am, because I had no idea there were that many people waiting to go crazy, just because it was Halloween, I also look like a kindergartener on the street compared to some of the people on the street last night. I really was the most clothed woman on the street. At the point where people were pushing past me and screaming, I kind of started getting worried and scared. I don’t like random people touching or grabbing at me. Thankfully, cue Pre-Black Mariah, I had a hero…. Ben, whenever you read this, thanks for keeping me safe from the masses, you are my favorite fake fighter (I mean Naval??) pilot ever, in all seriousness, you can even keep the position if Brady wears the suit… although admittedly you might have to remind me of this statement should the latter ever occur.

Oh, you say, what kind of danger could you have possibly been in, other than the absolute criminal assault on your ears that was the Kevin Federline concert (more on that later)

Well first off the swarming masses of people cut everyone off, so if you are by yourself ever in a group of 500,000 you get jostled, and shoved out of the way…. But it is worse when the spectacle of people get right in your face and scream “HONEY…HI” add into the fact that there were wobbly drunk drag queens out, with dangerously spiked stilettos, and I am lucky I didn’t wander off to cry in a corner. Surprisingly, I actually had a guy hit on me… one in 500,000; I hope it’s not me. The two best parts of the night though is when a group of men stopped in front of a line of hungry people and stared at Ben, pointing and saying, “he is so hot… so freaking hot,” All while Ben was completely focused on which Tamale he wanted. I think one of them was starting to move forward when I grabbed his hand to intervene and shook my head to indicate he is into girls…. And the group of men CONGRATULATED ME…hee, like I did something really great. I think they wanted to carry him off and name him King of the Party. The other best part of the night is when a large group of Asian women, grabbed the roomie and yelled “hello kitty, I LOVE hello Kitty” and then proceeded to dragout a complete Hello Kitty collection of items, as if she had been waiting all her life just to see Hello Kitty on the street so she could proclaim her fandom. I wonder where the pictures of the roomie are going to show up. Ever think of that, how many people just have pictures of you standing in the background of their picture… there could be hundreds of photos of you all over the world. Actually when you think of that, it is creepy as hell.

Other things of hell, Kevin Federline, RAPPING… ON AN ACTUAL STAGE comes to mind. Look, I know he must be feeling pretty smug as the man who absolutely ruined Britney (you just know somewhere out there, Baby Mama number 1 and Justin Timberlake are sitting together saying “damn dodged a bullet there”) but why he must use his tentative grip on fame to ruin the rap genre makes no sense. He doesn’t seem to comprehend that people LOATHE him…. He comes on stage in a cape, I have no idea what he was supposed to be, the count of bad rap, but as SOON as he appeared. EVERYONE started booing. You know how hard it is to find a judgmental drag queen? Yeah, if you can’t win someone who sports clear plastic 6-inch heels, (clearly not a person of taste on a side note, if you are going to be a drag queen, they do make Jimmy Choo’s in specialty sizes, no need for stripper shoes to join your repertoire) then you can’t you win anyone over.

After all that, we decided to head for home… I think we were thoroughly over stimulated. On the way back, I saw 7 supermans, several slutty fireman (real firemen, those guys pull girls just by standing around), and several rainbow brights… slutty ones of course.

Happy Hallo- I mean—Sluttoween

Call me La Principessa Capitan

2006-11-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

Today was family day. And so off I went with my California family for a day at the lake... We drove out 2 hours to a lake nearer to Bakersfield than Los Angeles, but whatever. It was a great day. We got some starbucks, (yum pumpkin spice latte) and drove for hours... and then just hung out.

I went on the Jet Ski and it turns out those things are ADDICTIVE... at first you are going all slow and cautious, trying not to i dunno, flip the dang jet ski ( yes, I know is hard as hell to flip a jet ski, but it feels wobbily) then you are going close to 50 miles per hour, nearly blind (I forgot sunglasses) and positively giddy with excitement. The best part is you are yelling the whole time, and no one hears anything. You can confess your darkest secrets on a jetski and poof they are off in the wind. Then Nick took me in these really scary scary spins and I thought I was going to fly off the jet ski in my jeans and I didn't. I am AWESOME. I am convinced that I need a jetski, it will be my hobby and I can share it with others... now I just need roughly 10,000 dollars to get one. It will be TOTALLY worth it... jet skies are like motorcycles only you know, when you fall off you don't crush all of your inside into mush or become a walking donate your organs ad.

Then we took the speed boat out for wakeboarding. I wish I could wake board. It looks freaking awesome especially when you are doing tricks and stuff. If I was going to take up wake boarding, I would need to develop some sort of coordination, because I am so not even close to being cool and coordinated, I would probably just get dragged behind the boat until someone noticed I was missing. On the way back in I got to drive the speed boat... those things go fast. I might also need a boat. I went super fast and created good waves behind the boat and then I got into a race with some random dudes taking there boat out for a spin... I now know why guys try and beat other guys off the line and what NASCAR is all about, because something about them trying to catch my boat, made me floor it, even though there were Boat Patrol on the lake. I didn't crash, which means I am practically 2 steps from being a Captian... hence the name of this Blog.

All in all a fantabulous day.

Alright, I would give you more details about my speed filled day, but I am going to see Borat.

Stand Alone Unfunny Post.

2006-11-03T15:29:00.000-08:00

Writing is my therapy, this type of writing is not typically blog worthy consequently, I will probably never publish another post like this one on the blog again, however, I promised I would for this particular day.

A years worth of Breathing
Letting go of you wrecking me
All you ever were, was a cheap plastic fantasy.
And I'm still Breathing. I know that hurts you more than anything.
I'm betting you think you know me.
Well, I hope tomorrow brings the consequence you never had.
It'll help cleanse yourself of all the lies that run through your head:
You are never gonna be a good man.
A years worth of breathing.
I survived you and me.

The one where Hello Kitty Stops Traffic, and a Fighter Pilot Saves Me

2006-11-02T09:38:00.000-08:00

Not Necessarily at the same time. Halloween The Recap Part 1

So... I went out for Halloween this year. I know what you're thinking Morgan, I never go out for Halloween, but never fear my streak of not dressing up continues on... I only ever want to be a fairy princess and I don't think fairy princesses should be slutty, so I am at a distinct Halloween disadvantage, since in about 5 years Halloween will be renamed Slutoween, judging by how the girls went out this year. Sidenote, if your boobs aren't fabulous... you have no business showing them. That is what the miracle of Victoria's Secret is, they give girls whose breasts are substandard, a real nice piece to showcase them in... and image is everything, ladies, everything.

Anyways. So I went to West Hollywood. Where the freaks all come out to play. It was like a bonanza of oddities. Which I could spend time writing about, but Meh... who cares about freaks... when the real drama was ALL in getting to the damned event.

So I get home from a 10-hour workday (in heels) and change into jeans and a t-shirt... and wait for my roommates boyfriend (YAY, they got back together after the Drunk Dial of the weekend before) and Wilson on our way to pick up Benn in Hollywood.
Yeah, none of my friends have any concept of time or something because 6:45 p.m. quickly became 7:15 p.m. by which time my roommate had tried on no less than 3 outfits... So we go to get Benn, and everything is fine. The roomies boyfriend had a joyous reunion with Benn, we think they like each other more than they like hanging out with us, and they ran around like kids looking at all the cool stuff in Benn's office. Boys.

Okay so off we go towards West Hollywood. Wilson behind the wheel. And I love Wilson, but if there is ever EVER to be driving in traffic again... I nominate the roomie to drive. Because the anxietyfest was just a little much to handle. First we were doing psychotic loopy-loops in the middle of roads. The non-christians in the car started praying, and the christians started cursing. It was all very backwards. Everytime we said left, Wilson went right. All leading us up to Hello Kitty's big moment. So we are sitting there, begging Wilson to turn, FOR THE LOVE, TURN!! on to a side street so we could I dunno, not be a dead standstill. And he utterly refused. It was likeing watching the short kid on the top of the high diving board... stuck. We are all begging him... well they are all begging him, I am about to kick him out of the car. When the roomie, climbs over her boyfriend, and goes out the door to stop traffic. (I followed her out of the car, mostly becuase it was hilarious and secondly, to call 911 if someone decided to run her over) The best part was some southern lady yelling... "I like that hello kitty, you go kitty"

GOLD LADIES AND GENTLEMAN GOLD

So we run through the streets to get back to Wilsons car...and we are on this narrow narrow road...yay you think right, easy sailing from there. NO.

Wilson decides to lose his dang mind... and is all "you want aggressive josh!! and starts speeding towards my immeinent death) litterally, we are inches away from parked cars, oh and, CARS COMING TOWARDS US.

Internal Monologue time, imminent death coming, Shanelle's brain:
"dude, if he f*&King kills us, I am going to be pissed, where was all this aggression, WHEN WE CLEARLY HAD THE RIGHT OF WAY TO TURN... crap, crap... I am going to die."

External Dialog: Josh, CALM DOWN... CALM DOWN, it's okay. For FLUCKS SAKE calm down

Finally, 45 minutes later we find parking and begin the long trek to freaksville.

STAY TUNED... Part 2 recaps are coming.

A Roll in the Hay with Wilson

2006-10-29T12:11:00.000-08:00

Innuendo Abounds!! And before anyone says ANYTHING… this blog is actually about our trip to the Corn Maze this past Saturday night.

So if you are reading this blog, you probably know me well enough to know, when I want something I can be determined as ALL hell in getting it. And what I have wanted to do for the last 3 Halloweens is go through a freaking corn maze. In fact, I have been so determined lately, I may have accidentally pissed off Benn, JM, Leanne, the Ex and assorted other friends as I bugged them to come with me to the corn maze (come on guys, you know you still FLOVE ME…I’m pretty…uh or something… love me, damn it, I just wanted to play children of the corn field of dreams or something)

I was determined to go… so on Saturday night, I called Wilson, and was like “hey lets go to a movie” but when I got to his house, I sprang…”how bout the corn maze instead!!” Bait and Switch, baby, BAIT AND SWITCH…. Fortunately for me, Wilson really really loves me, and is willing to go along with my strange ways. Merrily along we went. Well more merrily along I went, dragging Wilson along behind me…(LOVE YOU, WILSON…)

So we go out to Woodland Hills, to experience the magic… the first thing we do is go on a hayride. Hayrides seem like a good idea, but seriously, hay is kind of prickly, and sticky and we may have had a drunk college student driving us, because we flew all over that thing, it felt more Six Flag ride, than lazy hayride, in fact, I kind of felt a little violated after it was over… then we faced the horror spectacular, that is high schoolers out late on a Saturday night.

Aside, there is nothing NOTHING more annoying than high schoolers, with the exception of the 6 that I like at church, they are all hormones, and skinny jeans, and time wasting and stuff. Critically Annoying. Perhaps they shouldn’t be let out of the house till they are I don’t know 18 and can do something useful…. Like go away to college. I would like to note, I was NEVER that annoying.

We stood in line behind them for 45 minutes, as they giggled, tossed there hair and generally annoyed the f*&k out of me. The worst part was that it started with 2 highschoolers in line and by the time they all got done at the window, I SWEAR to bob, there were 17 kids there.… when we finally got to the front window to buy tickets… yeah, the corn maze line was an hour long. HA… I may be determined, but I am also easily distracted and very easily bored…so we decided to go to the fall festival instead. Where we ate fresh kettle corn, looked at huge pumpkins, ran to the top of a hay mountain, petted random ponies, talked and wandered all over. Then we went and got tacos and burgers and sat and listened to music in the car. It was a great Saturday Night.

And I still haven’t been through a corn maze!

P.S. I got a Crock Pot for my "hey, you got a job gift" from Peter and Stephanie, I will be cooking up a storm this week. I am taking requests, if you want me to make you something.

Sweet Fancy Moses. TOP SECRET BLOG!!!

2006-10-25T23:30:00.000-07:00

11:15 p.m.--As I type this, the roomie is standby at the doorway in our pitch black living room looking for visual on the cops that we just sent next door. I, of course, am on audio and recording this occasion for, for well our lawyers if we are killed by our slightly manical neighbor.

This ish, is scary.

Okay, so how did it all start. 10 p.m. tonight, I went to bed early… tomorrow is a busy day at work and I was tired. When a mere 10 minutes after bedtime my walls started rattling, and not in a ohmygod earthquake kind of way, more in a o’holy CRAP someone is getting beat next door. Girly girl that I am, I immediately call my roomie over to check to see if this was a mere argument out of control or if we had some sort of crisis on our hands. She crept in to my room and we listened at the window and walls. When the neighbor started discussing knives, and gangs, it was time for a little PD accion.

For the record, I and my roommate may have just fallen in love with the cop sent over, because he showed up with a “who the FU*K are you talking to like that,” and a door beat down with the night stick… it was straight up, SEXY. He had us, for real, at “your not in charge, I’m in fu*king charge” yeah… le swoon.

As we crept around the living room, discussing midgets (what else to talk about in a crisis) , and which boys we knew could come over to keep us safe (yeah…if this happens again we are so calling you) we knew this was some SVU like crap… in fact after a few moments of silence, we sent up slight prayers that the cops hadn’t been stuck in a closet.
And we decided to stay away from the door.

As of right now we have turned off all the lights and tv for safety( I have no idea how that actually makes us safe) and are huddled by the computer. It gives off a nice subtle glow. We hope these people move soon… frankly they have to go, they have ruined our castle like ambiance.

Send us good mojo thoughts.

And by the way, parents, we aren’t moving, our rent is way to dirt cheap… if we wanted something equally as cheap we would have to move to Inglewood, which just augments the issue.

P.S.S. Sometimes you just have to find the funny in the scary... this blog by no means endorses domestic abuse or mocks the situation our neighbor is in... frankly we had to calm down, funny helps... it really was loud and scary. We are okay, just slightly overtired and nervous.

Blogaversary and a correction

2006-10-24T12:22:00.000-07:00

First a correction: I was watching Ultimate Fighter on Spike not Ultimate Fighting Championship... I say my points still stand.

Moving on....
Happy Blogaversary!!! (Throws streamers in the air)

I am accepting gifts, if you were wondering. And as is our tradition here on the ol'blog, I am going to share 5 things you may or may not know about me. Enjoy or don't. Whatever.

1.I keep birthday cards. I have a stack of the ones I have recieved in the past couple of years from LA friends, every year I re-read them and tie the new ones into the bunch with a red ribbon...

2. As a child, I had an imaginary friend. And he had an imaginary dog. And an imaginary single dad.... I don't remember, but I think I was trying to set my mom up. What can I say, I had those love connection instincts even back in the day.

3. I sing along with every song I know in the car and in the house, this is complete with shimmy's and pantomime. I do a killer Counting Crows, and a stellar Britney.

4. My favorite food growing up was hot dogs, mash potatos and cheese... BAKED. Nasty the things kids eat.

5. Swings make me VERY happy. Something about gliding through the air just makes you want to laugh and makes the day better.

The Gentle Click-Clack of the Walk of Shame

2006-10-22T10:33:00.000-07:00

O’ Walk of Shame. You remember the walk of shame don’t you; you know you did it in college. Nothing says rough night faster than last nights outfit, yesterdays hair and somewhat questionable makeup. It happens to the best of us.

In this case, by the best of us, I mean my roommate (all those who know my roommate, she already approved this blog for your reading, so it is okay to laugh, it is all in good fun, she is, of course, permitted to guest blog to get me back!!)

I got the pick-up call at 10:00 am, after I had already called her to make sure she wasn’t dead. Here is an excerpt of that conversation.
Me: “hey! So your not dead… great”
Roomie: “yeah,”
Me: “I thought you went to XXXX, usually you come home”
Roomie: “uh do you think you can pick me up at station X sometime”? (Roomie is an EMT, so she was at an abulance bay station)
Me: “what happened, are you okay, how the eff did you get to X, never mind, I am leaving now, how do I get there”

So I pick her up, and we go through yet another one of the great moments in roommatehood, the recap, which in our house is considered a must-do hence the reason we live in the VAULT of SECRECY and she got to pre-approve the blog, jellus?

Apparently, she got what my grandmother likes to call tipsy and the rest of the world calls drunk and found a co-worker to take her to her office to crash out, A testimony to her drunkhood since it would have been easier for them just to bring her home. Along the way she managed to DD her boyfriend (DD = Drunk Dial… aside, friends don’t let friends dial while drunk, it is probably how most modern wars have started) we still aren’t sure if they broke up. Boyfriend, if you are reading this, and I know you are, you faithful reader you, she says she loves you and call her!

After swearing never to touch the devil’s juice again, pffft...the rommie swears of the juice every 3 months, we decided to go get some breakfast at Whole Foods.

You know I have been partner to many walk of shames, but this is the first time I have seen anyone decide that 10:30a.m. is the appropriate time for a salmon and rice bowl and some pesto pizza.

I am sure we made quite the picture of delight. Me in my pink and red snowflake pj’s, baseball hat and flip flops, her in last nights outfit, complete with snakeskin stilettos … clutching a giant bottle of water like a life vest on the Titanic. Stumbling towards the kitchen of whole foods... Along the way, i managed to insult to pizza making man by trashing his newest creation, buffalo chicken pizza (NASTY) and the roomie managed to make the entire japanese kitchen area jumpy by snapping at the chef... NO Veggies... NONE, two or three times.

Partners in Crime

What can I say we are a weird household?

Cheers!!!

Things I learned from Ultimate Fighting!!

2006-10-20T08:50:00.001-07:00

This week, I got a wee glimpse into man world and ladies it is uglier than mom jeans and colored crocs (for real....who invented those, unless you have to go take a quick prison shower or you are under the age of 10, you don't wear brightly colored plastic shower slippers out of the house!)

My glimpse into manworld came from my foray into watching UFC, Ultimate Fighting Championship, which probably could be called when men turn into 7th grade girls only bigger and meaner. The premise of this TV show is a bunch of guys live in a house and work out, then at the end of the week they beat each other up... uh, I know jigga what, but it makes for EXCELLENT t.v. They have all the best characters, the some what angry black guy, the whinny baby, the insecure man, the trash talker, the crazee manb@#$%... UFC may have just dropped into my top 10 favorite t.v. shows!!

Without further ado, the list o' things I learned from UFC:
1. Men are catty as hell living together. You think sorority girls got it bad, try having 10 dudes live in a house... they are bringing up stuff from years ago, "remember that time, I beat you senseless", "10 years ago, marc looked at me cross-eyed, and I WON'T let him underestimate me." Then they smile over protien shakes and trash talk in the common room as they try and out lift each other.
2. For Men, trash talk is a fine art, a sport if you will... they focus with the intesity of a woman putting on mascara, in a car, during a tornado.
3. There is a reason that speedos went out of style... because NO man looks good in one, super fit of not.
4. The WWF kids are wusses... for real, if you watch one hour of UFC you will leave with the firm knowledge "The Rock" was nothing but a punk with an excellent eyebrow waxer.
5. Fights are not pretty, and they don't sound like fights in the movies... it is alot more thuding and groaning.
6. Fighting is less Bruce Lee, and more bearhug bearhug, break...bearhug, bearhug break.
7. Wrestling makes your ears scary looking
8. Foot stomping utterly okay... bit*& slapping is rude
9. They really do say "let's get it on" heeeeee...
10. And Finally... UFC confirmed to me men are the gentler more forgiving sex, really... you don't see a chick in a cage beating each other senseless and then drinking afterwards... girls can hold a grudge!!! sure we might smile at you, but secretly, oh secretly, we are plotting how we can convince you that mom jeans and crocs are your look...thereby stunting your dating life indefinitely.

Good stuff.

I need a nap. (A random blog of questionable funny… I SAID I need a nap)

2006-10-18T07:12:00.000-07:00

As all of you know, I started a new job this week in Pasadena. For the sake of my anonymity should one of my co-workers stumble upon the ol’blog, I will not name the organization. But I think I have been out of the work loop for a little while, because apparently, it is now COMPLETELY acceptable for your co-workers to act like they just got loosed from kindergarten class.

I have a co-worker, we will call him G, who is cool and everything, sort of a renasiance man, he handles everything from Admin help to general operations management. He is good at what he does. But for real, 36 hours into the job and he has taken all sorts of sarcasm liberties with me. Everytime, he opens his mouth it is to let loose some quasi-smart sarcastic comment, as a sidenote, his sarcasm is PATHETIC… I hang out with boys whose quick wit is so well known that I have to actively watch what I am saying because they catch everything and have no hesitation at using it against you, for weeks, months, years!!! Meh. I feel like I should, I dunno, act hurt of something so he feels like he is doing something right. Most days, I just push back and that usually stuns him into silence.

When VENDORS attack.

Moving on, today I went to my first board meeting, complete with marketing committee meeting recommendations… great times. UNTIL, a crazed event employee broke into the meeting. My boss is mid-sentence over proposals to change the website content… when this women wearing entirely bad outfit, con VPL, starts ranting about how she is good at fundraising and technology and art etc, and how she is all about creating equality for women etc. Which would have been fine if she hadn’t been shaking with nervousness like a caffeine addict jonesing for there next moccahino. It was like watching a traffic accident, you want to stop and help but you are awe struck by the horror of the moment. If you are going to interrupt a board meeting with several millionaires and business owners, at least OWN that crap…

After she stopped mid-sentence and started laughing slightly manically, I think it trulywas in our best interest to remove any sharp objects from her immediate access and adjourn the meeting.

Pros to this situation: No matter what I suggested, I was going to look more sane than that chick… so in essence she made me look like a fantastic hire (thanks crazy girl)

Cons: All the board members ran out of the room so fast, I didn’t get to pitch any of my ideas….maybe that’s a pro to.

Saving the World, One Disturbing Trend at a Time!!

2006-10-13T13:11:00.000-07:00

I think everyone has a thing, for example(s) my friend Jase’s thing is to date girls who are super forward and move super fast with him, and then get bored with the same ol’ girls who don’t challenge him. The ex’s thing is to shut down and stop caring about arguments, agreements or anything that is going to change the flow of an emotional conversation. J loves girls who act like they don’t like him, and then as soon as he gets them to like him, he acts like a distant jerk, he also FLOVES the crazy. I even know a girl M, who falls in like, out of like, and into extreme dislike, BEFORE meeting the guy.

And, as you probably recognize some of those initials from the post below, you know that I KNOW these boys, I have known ALL of them for more than 5 years, and throughout least 2 major relationships. So I have no problem, calling them out during conversations, when they are bitching. But this month, I made the critical error. I forgot those boys know me pretty well too. And I SET MYSELF UP for the calling out of a lifetime. I should clarify that while I am equally good friends with J, Jase and the ex… none of them knows each other, which makes this all the more painful.

So I am talking to J, via text as we are apt to do, and I am all “well, see you always love girls that don’t love you or girls that act absolute insane Bit*&s, it’s your thing, if you just quit, then this won’t be a problem” wham, I know, sweet baby Oprah, she has figured out his life in one fell swoop, why doesn’t she have a show?

Do you know what he sends me back “well, at least I am not every guy on earth’s buddy, and I don’t constantly like peeps who don’t notice me, if you just started sticking up for yourself and cutting the crap you wouldn’t have boy problems, you are pretty enough to not be every guys platonic girl buddy,” DAMN… nailed to the wall like Luther’s thesis.

Scoreboard says: J: 1, Me : 0

Not that, I was going down without a fight, a fight to prove J wrong, I immediately called the ex (the more sympathetic of my boys) and subtly (well maybe not so subtly) asked if this was true and he gave me the hard truth “forget the like people who don’t notice you thing, most people I know notice you, I do know, it does seem like an awful lot of guys want to be your buddy.” And I knew it was true, when Jase’s response was “hahahahahahaha, yes. Hell yes”

I have heard that I had buddy syndrome before, but I thought I had combated the disease. And that is what it is, a danged DISEASE, it’s like I contracted it somewhere (I am thinking College) and haven’t lost it.

For the newbies, I am going to define the parameters of girl buddy. A girl buddy, is a non-sexual, non-attracted to chick that you hang with in between relationships. “one of the guys,” if you will. The girl that you spend a great deal of time discussing the girls you actually are attracted to with. The girl that when people ask you what about her, you scoff, meh, she’s cool and everything, but she’s like one of the guys. The Joey Potter, (season 1) to your Dawson Leery, the Xander to your Buffy, the Tina Fey, to the entire cast of SNL. Every girl you hangout with whom you aren’t dating is not a buddy… there are such things as girl (space) friends. But honestly, it is a fine-line we tread.

Nevertheless, I am all about self-improvement. As of right now, I am nipping buddy syndrome in the bud. Not that I have any idea how, but at the next sighting of a buddying, I am running for the hills or I am making out with him just to stop the madness (ahem, if I am already your buddy of several years, it’s too late, for real Wilson… I still love you though) Otherwise, I am going to be 40, with 9 cats, several pairs of sensible shoes and 50 GAGILLION BUDDIES.

Cues “Gone with the Wind Soundtrack”: As God is my Witness, I will never be buddied AGAIN! (shakes lip gloss at the sky) Cresendo

And SCENE.

My Boys Friggen Rock.

2006-10-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

A Public Announcement:

J, Jase and the Ex. I freaking love you.

You handle all my random crap; still love me despite my absolute neurosis at times. And you manage to bring me back from a breakdown in reason, regularly, AND still make me feel good about myself. Impressive.

Plus, You offer me such wise gems such as:

“Boys are boys, we are simple, take what goes on in your mind and take away all the inane deep feelings you think we are having, add a splash of logic and smidge of we want to touch you in inappropriate manners and you have what the boy is ACTUALLY thinking.” Jase, August 2006 (You have no idea how many times this has brought clarity to my life, people!!!)

**AND**

“You are confused kid, one girls hotness does not negate another girls hotness. One can think the girl next door is hot, and still want Adrianna” (James, July 2006) For Reference, he was talking about Adrianna Lima, the VS model, whom he loves.

Helping me to be the Sage to others that I am today, because I pretty much just repeat your advice to all the other girls I know.

You all rock my world, in a totally platonic way. And well frankly, making everyone jellus, that they don’t have a cadre, the trifecta of awesomeness, that I have.

P.S. All three of you better not bitch about me blogging about you now, okay, for real.

I'm like the younger, poorer, thinner Oprah. Thoughts on Life and Life Equations.

2006-10-10T08:57:00.000-07:00

Only you know, better looking. Lately, I have found myself in the position of advisor on relationships for many many friends... which is hilarious considering I am not in a relationship. However, I have managed to pick up a few logical tips having dated thoroughly in college and witnessed my friends wreck themselves over completely unworthy people.

Oddly, enough though,most of my relationship advise is boldly based on logic and logic alone.

Por Emplo, it's not so much a good plan for you to not define what you want in a relationship and then completely disregard it or not communicate it. I need a touchy feely handholder, if I date a dude who is hands off, eventually I am gonna think "hey, he's just not that into me," and freak out, probably on him, and the poor dude is going to be "wtF". Men, are like the complete opposite of mind readers....whatever that is (uh maybe anti-mindreaders or unreaders). If you say, "hey, I'm okay' and you mean "why don't you love me enough to do x,y and z, and i feel fat and ugly and sad" Men still hear "hey, I'm okay" and that's assuming you have a good listner.

Also, boys are just as insecure and needy at times as girls... if your expecting him not to be, you probably are going to be dating a robot(in which case, run, because that is just scary) or someone who has another girlfriend, who he is insecure and needy with....

BUT finally, FINALLY... most importantly, sing it with me: MAYBE THEIR CRAZY, MAYBE THEIR CRAAAAAAAZY... Possibly...

Listen... crazy don't just show up one day.

Admit it, your dating a hot guy/ hot girl, and you knew she was crazy. you sensed it when she started naming her stuffed animals after your future children, you knew it when he memorized all your myspace friends and asked about EVERY freaking comment you left on there page. You knew it, and you didn’t get out, that's your fault. You wanna let someone treat you like crap... no one gonna stop them, it's on you. And if you are the crazy one, uh... don't call me, okay... cause that’s just creepy

Now for some Life Equations (this is where I reveal I have too much time on my hand)

The hotness of a girl (H) multiplied by 2 times her amount of insecurities (I), minus the length between her last relationship and the one your in(L), multiply the whole thing by her daddy issues(D)... equals the amount of crazy you are going to be dealing with.
ahem, it looks algebraically like this:

(H*2I-L)*D=CRAAAAAAAAAAZY.

example time: If Mary is pretty hot (8), she has 2 major insecurities but her last relationship was a couple of weeks ago... and her daddy left her and her mama when she was 11, for her step-mother, (issue level of 7) what is the amount of crazy you are dealing with
(8*2(2) - 0)* 7= Crazy level of DRUM ROLL PLEASE...224.

Now ideally, you want to date a girl who has less than 150 marking of crazy, that is reasonable... most sane girls are gonna range between 70 and 160. Let's face it, no girl is absolutely crazy free.... but still you wanna aim for as rational as possible.

Not so Much.

2006-10-08T05:52:00.000-07:00

It is FREAKING SIX IN THE MORNING and I AM AWAKE.

DANG IT

So for you... a story involving Benn , My Roommate and Me.

Nope, nothing that interesting, sorry J!

It all started when Benn was out of town and talking to me via text message. Typically, when my roommate comes home we do the usual thing which is recap the night in one of our bedrooms before bed. Today, I noticed our phones were pretty much ringing in sync, which NEVER happens because we are on opposite schedules and pretty much have different groups of everyday friends. Apparently, Benn had been talking to both of us at the same time, which cracked us up. Not becuase he can't talk to and befriend both of us. But because no one has ever tried to use almost the exact same language between both of us at the same time. He was, as always, ALARMINGLY charming. He may have been trying to incite a fight to the death with my roomate. good think we love each other. It ended up being some weird 3 way text messaging bonanza, with me responding to things he wrote her and her responding to things he sent me from our individual phones. Just goes to show you boys shouldn't be left to their own devices in an airport.

I think Benn maybe the biggest flirt I know... period. He is one of those guys you have to think carefully before you take seriously- the man hasn't met a women he didn't flirt with. It is alarming that a man could charm you, your mama, and your neighbor and then convince you that you don't care. If he wasn't an animator, he could be a great gigolo.... While not all men can handle multiple women, i think Benn could easily handle a harem. Hopefully, he doesn't go get a harem after reading this... BENN, seriously, don't. The ladies of the world would cry.

Ennui

2006-10-05T19:15:00.001-07:00

First, I would like to announce my new bonnie bell lip smackers ROCKS… it smells like tropical punch starburst and tastes like it too, it’s CANDY for the lips. Jellus???

Anyhow, today I went shoe shopping. It isn’t easy going shopping without back-up…. How the heck am I supposed to know if I am delusional if I don’t talk to a trusted friend about an outfit. Random girls can be nefarious and would sell you out in a heartbeat, never telling you that your new cute outfit makes you look chubby and slutty…NEVER a combination, but a trusted friend can steer you firmly on the track to cute. I was on a mission for some cute everyday flats… one, because I am already tall and don’t need everyday heels, and two, because even though I suppose I could, I would rather not wear flip-flops all fall and winter. Anyways, this trek took me all over Glendale and Eagle Rock as I selected and debated shoes via phone and picture message with Skip, Luz and Nori…I realized as I was doing all of this photo swapping and deep discussions on the merits of van like flats and baby pink flats, and of course hooker red flats, that being a girl is so freaking awesome. Because frankly if as a dude, you start calling all your friends discussing shirts, pants or the like, people either think you are Gay or Crazy… you don’t get lip smackers or to wear dresses or shop at VS, Sad.

Addendum- My friend Jason says that at least boys aren’t absolutely irrationally crazy.
Okay so story… apparently, my guy friend(s) from college are exceedingly irritated because they are tired of complimenting girls and either having the girl ignore it or disregard it. I understand his frustration, but seriously, J is a huge HUGE flirt. I have no idea how as a girl, you are supposed to tell the difference from a guy just being generally flirty or being flirting because they are actually attracted to you. Although PERHAPS if*** yet another of my genius plans as follows*** Men should have to wear Placcard disclaimers, declaring intent and major flaws….OR they could produce resumes and women could decide who to date fully informed. YAY. This of course wouldn’t work for girls, many lie to hide the crazy. Not me... but I know quite a few who do

I don’t do Sharing.

2006-10-04T09:23:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I spent a delightful afternoon/evening with my ex. Where we talked about everything going on in life, did some errands and acted silly in public, which is something I enjoy. I love him. Really, I do. I love him. But, I have decided he might just be crazy. Not boil your bunny crazy, but definitely approach with caution he may be two steps from snapping crazy.

Where o’where did this discovery come from, our discussion of “open” relationships. And how he thinks they are a great idea.

Somehow he and his girlfriend of 4 years, decided that they may need to explore there youth, but still stay together. Translation: If one of us meets someone else we should and could totally make out with them or go on a date with them… but then when we are together we will act like the girlfriend/boyfriend we have been for 4 years.

Uh, what? Look, I am totally down with dating many people at once. As we all know around here, casual dating is my thing. I mean in all seriousness, all I have to do once I get asked out on a date is look pretty and keep conversation up, which I can do. But once you decide to hop into the ol’committed saddle, YOU my friend are OFF the MARKET. Pretty much what “open” relationship means is that you have license to cheat. Now, with the fine wisdom that comes with maturing, with a greater sense of self (ha!) and even more relevant having watched most of the shows that were on the WB in the late nineties, I know this can only end in disaster.

Nothing says true love like: I want you, until I find someone I want better, and if I can’t find someone better than we should totally stay together.

I think I may swoon from the romance of it all.

I don’t know of any man that could handle their girlfriend of 4 years dating, doing anything with another guy. But, maybe this is now normal and I live in what my friend Benn calls, my “fairy tale” world. Lord knows, I don’t buy into half the crap they are selling as healthy for relationships, so it’s entirely possible that I am wrong. All, I know for sure, is that I would snap six ways from Sunday if my boyfriend of 4 years decided we should have an open relationship. Which won’t happen, I am not dating anyone for 4 years, if you don’t know within 4 years you wanna marry me, then you are NEVER going to know. The only open relationship I’m having is me opening the door and booting his ass out.

On a Serious Note. Somedays I wish I had a Giant Mean Boyfriend

2006-10-02T08:34:00.002-07:00

I freaking HATE LA sometimes. Let’s set this up: Last night as I was driving home from church, blissfully singing along with Justin Timberlake, a large group of boys in a Mercedes decided it sounded like an excellent plan to follow me and play car games, which included trying to get me to swerve off the road, making kissy sounds at every light, and following me through Glendale and flashing there highbeams at me at every stoplight. Their HALOGEN WHITE highbeams, there by blinding me every 2 minutes.

Yeah, doesn’t that sound fun, try and bother the girl who is clearly panicked all through the city. I got to drive around Glendale for 15 minutes, until I pulled a Dukes of Hazard move and waited to they were super close, braked and put the car in reverse and sped down a back road.

Hooray, which brings me back to my initial point; I wish I had a giant mean boyfriend. One that wanted to punch mean boys that were awful to me… Like a good pair of black stilettos, every girl should have one…a big mean boyfriend that is.

In other news, I have declared myself tough for the weekend. I helped move a bed and I de-installed my air conditioning air unit ALL BY MYSELF. Sure I slit open at least 3 fingers and almost broke the window, but still all me. If you knew me well at all, you would know I don’t move stuff or fix things very well at all, so I am pretty excited… I am also currently covered in band-aids and am icing my foot, ankle and head. Fixing stuff is hard work.

You Wish You Lived at My House

2006-09-29T08:38:00.000-07:00

Seriously, the roomie and I decided that if it wasn't completely creepy and sorta scary, we would totally put up webcams in our house. (Please note Mom, I am NOT putting up a webcam, yes, I know it is dangerous, please don't call and yell at me, k' love you)
Why?

Because we are FREAKIN' HILARIOUS.
Let us recap some of the last year...
1. Sat around in Bikini's all day cause it was hot... starting at 8:30 a.m.
2. Fully choregraphed dances in the middle of the day, wearing the full P/P (she knows what I am talking about) and tanks.
3. Laugh inappropriately at random jokes... decided they weren't funny laughed anyway.
4. Quoted episodes of the simpsons, WHOLE freakin' episodes.
5. Watched the aquamarine movie commercial then start singing the jojo song "get out, Leave.... go" (which in person was even more funny)
6. Changed all the words to popular songs including one ditty by the roomie "I'm in love with an atheist" sung to "I'm in love with a stripper! It doesn't get better than that...
7. Preformed all of Chicago at 2 a.m., you don't know Jazz until your roommate decides to sing it to you at 2 a.m.
8. Watched Bridget Jones, then watched it again and again, in one day.

Where else can you find a house whose two mottos are
1. Friends don't let friends go out looking fugly.

*and*

2. I'm leaving, if I don't return avenge my death!!

And the above illustrations prove why, our house will never be oh so hip and cool,or really great goody-goody christian girls but we are super silly and fun and it makes home awesome.

I mean my neighborhood kicks ass already, I got JM, Shannon and Blair up the street and Mike, Jeremy and Scott down the road... all of whom can be called upon to fix things, install furniture and bring emergency sick supplies... but my Roommate, my roommate (despite her penchant for fox news and talkshows) is the bestest EVER.

Life Needs Visa???

2006-09-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

Forget that ish…Life needs Referees.

It all came to me last night as I was lying in my bed trying to fall asleep. Think how much better life would be if there were refs to prevent incidents like creepy kisses and the newest craptacular thing… asking girls out via text message. Hold the phone you say, TEXT MESSAGE? Yes. TEXT MESSAGE.

To let you see the varied situations that a referee could help with, I have set up some scenarios to help you see the beauty of my vision.

Situation 1: Boy meets fugly girl in bar… girl will not leave boy alone.
Ref comes in with whistle: “Off sides, 5 yard penalty, please spend the rest of the evening at least 5 yards from defensive team”

Situation 2: Girl gets creepy kissed by random dude
Ref: “personal foul, removal from game evident”

Situation 3: Boy meets hot girl (in this sequence played by me) and his friends try and hit on her at the same time while bad mouth him
Ref with Flags and Whistle: Pass Interference, too many players on the field. Other players must stay on the sidelines, FIRST DOWN, start again!!!’

Situation 4: Boyfriend forgets to call girlfriend multiple times.
Ref: “Forfieture of game, Home team gets all associated products and goods given out during the game”

See I am a Friggen GENIUS...that along with my tiny people holding boomboxes playing the soundtrack to your life rocks. (Can't you just picture during a romantic interlude, a nice boombox cued to whatever love song rocks your boat...during arguments the Rocky theme... Heck Yeah)

- Me

P.S. The waterbottle boy in the aforementioned story is Super SUPER hot and can get away with using waterbottles to illustrate a point, I don't suggest it for others... as you will look rather stupid

blogaversary

2006-09-25T23:07:00.000-07:00

Happy One Month of Posting, to celebrate and share I am going to once a month write down 5 things that you may not know about me. Enjoy. Or Don't. Whatever.

1. I obssesively love clean smells. I could stand in the detergent aisle for DAYS.... I love suavetel, I love tide, I love cheer. I love them all. Even though I only use tide, it doesn't feel like a shopping trip unless I smell at least 3 detergents. That obsessive love also shows up in soap.... OLAY pink thankyouverymuch, and cleaning supplies, I prefer lemon fresh scents. They make me happy.

2. I have folded towels the same way for 20 years and when I am upset I will refold every towel in the linen closet. My roommate knows better than to try and fold towels, because if they look all out of order I get upset and redo them anyway.

3. My stress or sadness level correlates to how long I stay in the shower. More sad, equals long shower, less sad equals standard shower...

4. I have read the entire Wizard of Oz (12 books) series more than 200 times.

5. When I was little, I used to believe that if you stared long enough, you could see the outlines where God drew us and colored us all in differently. I was always happy he stayed inside the lines.

Frush?

2006-09-23T17:25:00.000-07:00

I think I am going to discuss something that most people don't mention to other people. A frush. It sounds almost like a disease doesn’t it, but it is fairly innocuous.
It’s the Friend Crush. (Friend + Crush = FRUSH)

When you have those few friends who you think are really cute, fun, and awesome but you have never considered dating them because you: don’t want to ruin the friendship, or you just don’t see it happening or they aren’t your typical type, maybe there are little things that would prevent you from dating long term or even short term, like you are already dating someone. But I used to believe that everyone has at least one friend crush in there life at a time, if not more, unless they just started dating someone and the relationship is all new.

Frushes are fun. Mostly because they are harmless and pretty much risk free. Maybe you are a little flirty, maybe you dress a little cuter when they are around, and in general you like having them around pretty regularly. Some frushes last a couple of days/hours/weeks until the novelty of the person wears off and you get bored. I have a long-term frush, whom I am really good friends with, and yes, he knows he is a frush (he doesn’t read this blog, but if he did, he would laugh, mostly because he would wonders why I persist in making up my own words). It is a long running joke, that I am waiting for him to fall in love with me and I will quit dating all those other guys, I tell him all the time I have a crush on him. But both of us know, the likelihood of us actually dating is nil, the longterm potential is not there, I want a guy who is pretty bold, and smart, who acts like a guy, who I know can take care of me (because he wants to not because he HAS to) and who makes me laugh, and my frush is really cute and super nice, but his personality is much MUCH more quiet than that and I am not really willing to risk it not working to try and see if it does, It seems much more complex now that I wrote that all out it works.

I think most people won’t cop to a frush, because they don’t want the drama of people not leaving well enough alone. A frush doesn’t automatically mean you want to date the person, but that doesn’t always work for other friends who will just pick at things until you hate that you mentioned anything in the first place. After talking to a friend this week though, I wonder if guys have Frushes… the gentlemen in question seemed to be saying if he wasn’t gaga over the girl (and at the time, he was hitting himself over the head with a waterbottle to illustrate his point) that he didn’t notice her. That made me think: hmm, maybe this is just a girl phenomenon, or maybe it is just a friends of mine thing, because they all have frushes…

Or maybe I am just weirder than previously estimated.

Victimized....

2006-09-22T09:13:00.000-07:00

There has been a fairly recent phenomenon in the life o' me: The Creepy Kiss.

Let's define the creepy kiss for the newbies, I have this friend and lately he has been doing weird things when we say hello and goodbye.... He leans over and kisses me on the cheek, but not clearly on the cheek, more like the corner of the mouth or worse the NECK, for an extended period of time and it is sloppy and a little wet... Can I just say EWWWWWWWWWW.

Look, I am not against the kiss hello for greeting, I have a Puerto Rican roommate and that is common greeting for everyone, I am not even necessarily against the, quick kiss hello on the mouth, greeting (which is how many many of my college friends greet each other); provided I know and like you well enough to trust you aren't going to shove your tongue down my throat and you aren't slobbering. But I am against, the misleading, really passive aggressive, cheap shot that is the creepy kiss.

But this blog is not just about bitching (okay, maybe it is, but whatever)it's about helping the American People (see Posts Below, and yes, MAYBE I DO enjoy gross exaggeration, sue me) So I have composed a tidy list of 5 things that are and are not okay when giving the kiss o' greeting. This list is a guideline and may vary subtly from person to person, but it is pretty solid from where I stand:

1. The Kiss o' Greeting/Leaving should normally last a Jiffy, which for the record is an acutal measurement of time 1/100th of second (thank you NASCAR Floozy) and NO MORE. Otherwise it is a little couple-y and completely inappropriate for "hey what's up" situation.

2. The Kiss o' Greeting/Leaving (K o'G/L) should be on the cheek.... THE CHEEK. Not near the lips, not on the neck, or the nose. If when you are leaning in for the kiss o' greeting/leaving and I turn my head without BACKING AWAY... that means you permission for a quick kiss on THE CHEEK. There are VERY VERY FEW people who can get the K o'G/L on the lips (you knowwho you are, and thus far we have had no problems, thank you very much), but in case you were wondering the K o'G/L on the Lips should be no longer than a JIFFY it is like the forty yard dash, touch down and go.

3. The Kiss o' Greeting/Leaving should be a dry kiss, not a dry crusty kiss rather a quick "no slobber" kiss. This means your lips shouldn't be chapped or wet. Okay.

4. The Kiss o' Greeting/Leaving requires a level of trust and frankly affection, if we aren't friends enough for me to call you fairly regularly, we aren't close enough for you to be giving me the Kiss o' Greeting. This means you, strange friend of friend, friends roommate or newbie hanging out. You are authorized to give the official headnod of "hello" or maybe the "see you later" fist bump.... THAT IS ALL.

5. The Kiss o' Greeting/Leaving is a Privilege not a Right. Okay. It is not something that is okay for every girl/girl, guy/girl, guy/guy combination and it is not necessary for every hello and goodbye. And be aware of people who maybe in relationships for which this greeting makes there other half uncomfortable. It is a special thing that only some friends get to do, friends that you are especially close to, kind of like-- "love you" which should only be used for people you are pretty good friends with.... use it liberally, and you will be a healthy person, use it to often and you get hurt....

In Closing,
ONLY YOU CAN PREVENT FORREST FIRES.

What!!! It's an important message... and I need to actually work at this job I have, so I needed a quick out.

An Ode to My Mechanic

2006-09-20T18:29:00.000-07:00

Oh Mechanic,
How I love thee.

I love that you always explain things to me, and never snicker when I have no clue what you are talking about
I love that you always answer your phone and know who I am, even if I am sobbing incoherently
I love that you have never tried to screw me literally or figeratively
I love that none of your mechanics never blatently check out my boobs while I am waiting
I love that you have People, Cosmo, National Geographic, and Time in your waiting room, giving me options to read
I love that you always have a clean waiting room and a lovely carafe of coffee or juice for me
I love that you give me a triple A discount even if I don't show you my card
I love that everyone you employ is polite
I love that you will walk me to the car and point out what is broken and then show me the new thing you have to put in
I love that you don't mind yelling at the bastards in Sears and Firestone on my behalf.
I love that you are honest

So in honor of you, My Mechanic I will end in a song (sung to the hotdog jingle)

My mechanic has a first name it's S-T-E-V-E
My mechanic has second name it's J-a-n- something-something
Cause Steve Jan-something-something has a way with A-U-T-O-S

Seriously, I have the best mechanic, in Pasadena, nay Los Angeles, nay California... perhaps the world.

I am willing to share, let me know if you need a mechanic.

Just Say No... PLEASE DEAR GOD NO!!!

2006-09-15T13:27:00.000-07:00

As I was perusing InStyle today, looking at "TRENDS AT ANY AGE!!!" I came to a momentous, life-altering, perhaps, dare I say it, world changing decision:

35 should be the official cut off for wearing a mini-skirt. And women larger than a size 2 and shorter than 5'7" should be jailed for wearing skinny pants. (exceptions being Heather Locklear, Demi Moore, and any other person, who can afford you know the personal trainers, that make those things (as I call skinny pants) okay... although might be nice for mankind if they set an example and didn't wear them on principal)

Think how much better the world would be if you got to go to the grocery store without seeing side fat hanging over the side of the skinny pants, if you didn't have to actively wince on behalf of many , many middle aged women squeezed into too tight jeans whose granny panty line is PLAINLY visable at a 10 yard distance, freeze in horror at the women whose bums have began the long trip south for winter.

Outlawing those horrors is better for the country in general. Posters could be put up, classes organized, it would be a ralling point for all, as well as clean up America's image as the unfortunate country that unleashed the horrors of BEDAZZLED EVERYTHING in the late nineties. I personally, think it would boost morale for women everywhere, as we could all look decent all the time.

Ralph Lauren could be our National Advisor on Fashion, with Michael Kors and Vera Wang as his deputies.

See the world is brighter already.

Who do I have to kill/sleep with/ cut to get a good job

2006-09-12T16:18:00.000-07:00

Ahem, Mom, I am not going to do any of the things mentioned in the title. It was only for effect.

I am starting to think it is hopeless, which really sucks, because I am really good at what I do. But here in LA you pretty much have to either be related to someone at the company or currently be dating someone in the industry.

So now, I am in the race to see how many resumes I can possibly turn and get a call back. Thus far, I have gotten call backs on Lead Generation jobs. For those out of the know, that means, I get paid to bug friends and family to schedule appointments for people to buy things they don't want. And since I don't wanna become persona non-grata with my friends, I think that maybe a bad bad plan.

I shoulda been a lawyer or a doctor or something.

The End

Football Conversations from this Weekend

2006-09-10T22:47:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer post... I actually don't know that much about football, but what I do know I attempted to teach to my friend Luz this weekend as we watched the Ohio v. Texas game at my friend Mike's house, this is what it sounded like (actual conversation):

Me: Okay so right now the are going for the field goal, it gives you three points.
Luz: Oh, okay so how.
Me: See they kick the ball between the big H's and if it goes between them you get three points (for the record it actually is big Y looking thing they kick through now)
Boys: The big h's .... hahahahahahhahahahhaahhah
Me: and after they get the ball points, they kick the ball the other way, using special teams which are the short players.
L: oh... look that kicker is Gonzalez, he's my people. Okay so now what?
Me: Okay then the team gets the ball and they get four turns... each turn is called a down
L: Cause the ball is on the ground.
Me: No, because they have four tries to get it across the yellow line that isn't really there, but is there on TV.
L: Oh, well how can they tell if there is no yellow line.
Me: They use those Orange carrot looking things to measure.
The Boys: Carrots, hey mike there are carrots on the field
L: how long does it measure,
Me: 10 yards, SHUT UP MIKE, they totally look like carrot sticks.

I guess my football explanations aren't going to get me onto ESPN, but they made perfect sense to my friend luz... I am starting to think I should write the Pretty Girls Guide to NCAA Football. I have many more gems like the ones used above like:
the 2 point conversion: when the people decide not to kick to the giant h's after a touchdown and decide to go for another touch down.
the safe catch: when a player frantically waves at the other players, it means don't tackle me okay.
the fumble: when the boys drop the ball. And then who ever jumps on it first gets to keep it.

See, and right on the front would be like 3 pretty girls watching Football. This is marketing genius...you know you want to buy that book.

I even would include the definitive guide to selecting your NFL team. It would go like this... First, select hottest quarterback
Then select the uniform colors that look best on you and voila... you're a fan.

Or I guess, I could just save some time and tell them they should be Tom Brady fans, the man gives new definition to Hot.

Click Here Or Copy and Paste for the Magic:

www.jedroot.com/photogr/mem/celeb/art/tom-brady-01.jpg