Sometimes I think He is just showing off...

I literally had the best 3 days of my life last week. It is not really stuff I can share via internet, but it was good....Throw yourself in front of a truck and not care about it hitting you good. Apparently I have been looking at the ground while God's been waving His goodness banner (I don't really know what that means either) right in front of my face. I looked up just in time to be close-lined by it. Which is where I find myself now. Semi-unconscious, a little confused, overwhelmed, excited, nervous, and completely in awe of God. I didn't even see it coming. You just never know when everything is going to change.

On a completely separate note saying "I appreciate architecture." as an excuse for staring at my boobs, while very funny, will not get you a date with me.

I can find no reason to count sheep...

I go through periods where I will dream every night, then all of the sudden I won't have a dream for months. I have been dreaming a lot lately. It wasn't strange until two nights ago. I had a dream that I was on a show called Tight Rope Walking with the Stars, I will pause so that you can question my subconscious, and I was one of the washed up celebrities. I had to wear a very large pink tutu, and a leopard print leotard, and walk between buildings. It was bad. I can only assume that the 5 minutes of ice skating with the stars I watched before 24 affected my REM cycle. That or I really hope to be famous and then with the help of cocaine lose my rising fame (although now days drug habits only seem to boost careers.See Kate Moss.) so that 10 years down the road I can attempt to dance around on a piece of string hung between buildings. Hey, if Uncle Joey is there, count me in. In a related story Tanya Harding is now a boxer. The story is a year old, but I had no clue who it was. I guess she has finally found an outlet for aggression that doesn't involve conspiring to hit others with bats. Well done Tanya, well done.

The Rhythm is After Me

I have many love/hate relationships. Eating healthy, high heels, snow. But First and Foremost in the department of love/hate would be rap. I love dancing, always have. It is not unlikely that my death will come in the form of a fall due to booty dancing in my late 90's. What a great way to go. I imagine my first heavenly utterings would be something along the lines of "Ya see God. The rhythm eventually did get me, just like Gloria predicted. I thought we had a deal!!!" and we will all laugh and be on our way to eating mounds full of cheesecake dripping in Godiva.

ANYWAY...on with the love hate.

Love: anything by snoop, dre, eminem.

Hate: anything by anyone else. Specifically people who find the need to use the words laffy taffy, lady lumps, and refer to genitals as chick-o-sticks. I get the laffy taffy thing, but I refuse to think of my ass as taffy. Sorry I can't do it.

Love: Ain't nothin' but a G thang. 8 mile soundtrack. Either will always make my day better.

Hate: The following song lyrics: For the whole mess of words go here.
Rob a jewelry store and tell em make me a grill uh, uh Had a whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold Yo we bout to start an epedimic wit dis one.
I have no words. I am gonna start an epedimic with this one too. How about I release a vile of small pox into their trailer? Do they even know what epidemic means? Clearly spelling isn't their strong suit.

really from here on out it is all hate.

Hate: Raps with any of the following phrases : You know who this is ,You know what this is,
You know who dis be.
I don't get it. In my eyes that is all Jermaine Dupri is good for/does. That is all he ever says. He knows and has worked with everyone, but all he ever does is say" You know who dis is, so so deaf." Well I am not deaf, so stop frickin' sayin' that. It's annoying, and also YOU MAKE NO SENSE!!!! One vile of Small pox for you too sir.


Hate:People in that particular sector of the industry (Rap/R&B) rename themselves after every couple of albums. Puff Daddy-Puffy-P.Diddy-Diddy; Jennifer Lopez-J-Lo; Mariah Carey-MiMi; From now on I am going by my alias Lil' Purrr'. Don't worry, if you don't like it it will be a symbol next week, and you can call my the artist formerly known as lil' purrr'.

Ahhh rap. Such a glorious explosion of culture.

Quote of the week:From who else...my sister

Her to Shalinn: My ass is as red as a stoplight....happens to most of us.
Shalinn and I: confused looks, and some laughing.
Her: Well happens to the best of us. You're going to have to look at it later, I have a weird spot. Ohh maybe Erin will look at it.

I don't get it either.

Lil' Purrr' out. You know who this is.

The frosting of my week...

I am having a severe case of writer's block. Maybe it is because my life has become consumed with work. Maybe it is because I don't get home before 10:00 most nights. Maybe it is because I have a lack of caffeine in my system and have a headache that may just blow my head right off. Ah addiction, it is such a beautiful frickin disaster.

To make up for my lack of blogging I will do a run of highlights from the last week.

My roommate getting hit in the mouth with a frisbiee ( causing her lip to swell up to about 5 times its normal size) the day of a first date. (I know that is more of a lowlight, but I am not making a list of lowlights)

Getting caught by the woman I lovingly refer to as fake mom checking out a guy. Not really all that funny until I realized who I was checking out. It was an guy we've have both known for a couple years, he got Nerd glasses*. They are attractive...very attractive, that's that.

Getting told the color orange accents my cheekbones. Somebody tell me what the hell that means. Last I knew changing my shirt could not in any way alter the bone structure of my face. Maybe it is a magic shirt.

This conversation.
Me: "He is a bastard."
Person: confused look, as if I am just saying that to be comforting
My response:"I am not trying to be nice here."

Steve Carell winning a golden globe. I love that man. If you haven't seen the office, British or American, consider yourself at a great disadvantage.

Watched my favorite bonus feature from Waiting for Guffman over and over and over again. "And I am proud of you too Dad you taught me.... how the gentle fragrance of a woman's hair can drive a man wild..." Again if you haven't seen this you are at a disadvantage. I actually question your sense of humor if you haven't watched either of these things. Yep, I am judging you.

Made a list of the top ten people I would make out with if given the opportunity. Don't worry Orlando Bloom is on there. I can tell you were worried. Your nails are nubbins aren't they.

Footnotes: (Yep, a blog with footnotes)

*Black plastic rimmed, Think more along the lines of Clark Kent, less along the lines of the kid in grade school who taped his glasses and was always found chewing his sleeve or snotting all over himself. Sick, who wants to date or square dance with that guy...oh wait I did have to square dance with that guy. Just my luck.

I am glad to have animal lovers in the world for this reason...

I have found the bumper sticker to end all bumper stickers. I wasn’t even looking for it and then while driving yesterday, I saw it. “You think it is hard to put on a condom TRY IT WITH PAWS. Please have your pet spayed or neutered” Perfection.

A low point

I just teared up reading about abused cocker spaniels who have seizures and 3 legs. Don't tell me that God can't transform.

Cuz' it's one, One, ONE strike you're out!

After yelling DEALBREAKER!!! when my roommate received a text message from an interested boy I realized, once again, that I may have issues. Apparently not everyone has a conscious list of things that would signify an almost immediate break-up if a behavior continued. Here is just a small list of things that will almost definitely get me to break-up with/ never date someone.

A Man who:

1.Considers text messaging a viable form of communication.

2.Has no sense of personal space
2a.Has no respect for others personal space
2b.Insists on invading my personal space when around others...for instance lap sitting

3. Enjoys long phone conversations when we only live 10 minutes apart.

4. Reads any form of comic books, wizard magazine, or anything in the realm of fantasy...this includes porn.

5. thinks a clever way to pick me up is to pass me notes with song lyrics: ex. Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name....NO! no, I will not tell you my name you yellow pants wearing FREAK.

6. doesn't understand that biking in any form is not a date. Even if I do get training wheels.

7. Takes pictures of me without permission.

8. Follows me around in a van.

9. Cries more than I do.

10. Calls himself a musician due to a run in with a triangle at a 3rd grade production of Les Mis.

Whether or not it is a list you write down or not, YOU have dealbreakers too. Yes, you sitting there all smug pretending you are better than me.

Crazy Coffee Whores and the Media...A Lethal Combination

As a redhead I have found that I often get told that I look like anyone else who has red hair. Here are a list of people I don't look like that I have been told I do...

specimen # 1: Nicole Kidman. Not a chance in hell.

specimen # 2: Kathy Griffin. Maybe if you are drunk to the point of not remembering who you are Kathy and I bear a slight resemblance.

specimen # 3: Alright this is where I draw the line. It is time to set down the crack pipe and admit yourself to the local rehab center. If I look like Carrot Top then there is a magical world filled with diamond- lined pastel clouds , fat-free McDonald's cheeseburgers, and PEEPs waiting for me outside of the office.

And Finally specimen # 4: Lindsay Lohan. I get this comparison the most by far, but it doesn't make it anymore true. This lady who works at Starbucks tells me I look like a different teenage celebrity everytime I go in. Last week it was Hilary Duff, this week it was Lindsay. I think she may have taken the espresso machine hostage in the back room and rid it of all its "poison" a.k.a. espresso. Crazy Coffee Junkie.

The Point: Don't tell me I look like anyone famous, I will not believe you.

Cats in Hell?

New Years. A time for celebration, sequins, and false eyelashes...okay maybe that is just something I do. I glittered up and hopped in my car like a rhinestone cowboy(girl) ready to take on the very wild Rodeo Drive. Watch out 2006 there is a new glamour girl in town and she isn't afraid to wear sweats to work or stilettos to the store. You just never know when I will strike...

Some of the high points of the last day of 2005:

I was at my grandma's 70th birthday party and my sister kept asking "What is aniece?" I looked at her like she had to be kidding, but I know better. I started laughing and explained to her what A NIECE was. I think she may need therapy. She openly admits that her role model is Jessica Simpson. I, for one, am shocked.

This may be a low point:
We were playing trivial pursuit and the following exchange took place:
"What actor's pot bellied pig"
Me: interrupting the person asking the question yelled"GEORGE CLOONEY"
Everyone: confused looks, and a shaking head.

I was right.
Why I retain such useless information I don't know, but I do. I am really good at Trivial Pursuit because of it.

Later in the evening while watching New Years in NYC I began to think about being there with 8,999 other people for 9 hours. Honestly, my thoughts were surrounding the fact that finding a bathroom in that city is about as worthwhile as searching for the lost city of Atlantis in my basement. And this is what I felt the need to share with the whole room.
"That is like hell without cats."
To which Graham replied "the animal or the musical?"
I obviously replied "either."

Can you imagine. Being freezing cold surrounded by obnoxious people who push, Not being able to see past 5 feet, with the exception of the times the "smelly" guy with far too much body hair who has managed to drink my body weight in Natural Light insists on dancing around, AND you haven't peed since you left this morning. On top of all of that there are small animals that meow and smell like poop, and people in spandex with furry headgear and face paint frolicking around. If that doesn't describe hell, don't talk to me, I won't understand you.

Lastly, I got drunk dialed by my sister @ 1:45 in the morning while she was in the car with my dad. When she asked why I was still up and I replied "why are you calling me if you didn't think I would be up?" She got really pissed and held the phone away from her head and made me listen to a conversation she had with my dad. I talked to her yesterday and she had no recollection of the phone call. I am going to start using drunk dials as black male. Just a warning for you drunk dialers out there.