Satan must be frigid right now because I like something that Paris Hilton did.

I was riding along in my car a couple of days ago and it struck me. I actually like Paris Hilton’s new song. That thought forced me to take a good look at my musical taste, as well as get myself loaded full of tums because my obvious lack of musical discretion was making me feel like I had eaten 3 day old dog meat that had been sitting on my back porch marinating in maggots. Mmmm…dog meat. It was then I began creating a list of guilty pleasures that I am sure will be used against me in some form in the future. Some get disclaimers, some I love for clear lack of any tact or class and wouldn’t change if I could.

1.The aforementioned Paris Hilton song…Stars are Blind…This song is proof that with the right people behind you anyone can sound like Gwen Stefani. But I like it. I can’t help it.

2. People.com. I shouldn’t get on this website everyday to see who said what, who is wearing what, who got engaged, broke up, reunited, broke up, and ended up engaged again all within a span of 10 minutes, but I do.

3.Ashlee Simpson. I know she can’t sing to save her life. I don’t care, sometimes I want to just scream and if I have her cd going it sounds like I am singing along with something not releasing a schizophrenic chimp in my apartment.

4. Chicken Nuggets, from anywhere, I love them.

5. Crappy diners/bars. In college a group of friends and I went on road trips all the time in search of the perfect cup of coffee…the catch was that we only went to the crappiest diners we could find. I think the winner ended up being a coffeehouse/bowling alley in Fayetteville,AR. A short 6 hour jaunt that we turned into an 11 hour trip because these boys liked weird food so we had to stop all over frickin Missouri to go to “the only restaurant that has this” or that. (Although that paled in comparison to the incident involving the person we were staying with eating cold spaghetti sauce out of an old butter tub…different story for another time…gross) It was actually one of my favorite weekends of college. So. Much. Fun. And the best cup of coffee. Bars I don’t have any stories about, I just prefer the sketchball ones over post college frat boy bars. (sorry to all my frat boy friends)

I have so many more, but I am now in nostalgic mode and can’t stop the flood of college memories. So for now you get 5 mediocre guilty pleasures, really nothing too shameful. Well at least nothing I can’t handle public mockery for.

I will be gone for the next week in glorious Topeka selling fireworks. I would suggest you start taking your meds now for the painful withdrawls that are destined to be felt. I hope to get some good pics over the week so people can finally see the crazies I always talk about.

Were gonna POWER through

Well it happened. My sister turned 21. It was an interesting event. My family is kind of known for throwing crazy parties. My parents wedding reception is still talked about at almost every family get together. Courtney got pretty much all of the party DNA. Don’t cry for me…I can have a really good time, I just realized early on that drinking + Tiffany = even dumber behavior than the average drunk= must apologize to lots of friends the next day = massive headaches and sensitivity to light = totally not worth it. Court can actually have more than a beer in her system and still act like a normal person, not a raving lunatic that talks at 10 times her normal volume which is already at an 11. I watched my sister take part in a “POWER HOUR” which I am not sure was given the right name...they took a shot of beer every minute for an hour. I guess it is not as appealing to name it Dour Hour or Sour Hour or my personal favorite Jack Bauer Hour. Ooohh Jack Bauer hour. Okay daydream over. It seems to me you loose power with every passing minute. Power to stop yourself from thinking that My Humps is the best song ever written and crying/screaming is probably the best way to express that undying love. Power to recognize even standing still is going to be tough because sometimes all you want to do is dance on the ceiling, and right now seems like the perfect time to try. Power to keep yourself from telling your friend that you think her hair looks like a Pomeranian that was lit on fire and glued to her head. Courtney did dance, but she didn’t do anything she wouldn’t have done had she been standing on stage completely sober in front of 10,000 people. A. because she has no shame and B. because she can hold her alcohol better than a 300 pound Irish man who drinks for a living. So happy birthday to my sister who can drink like a man, dance like a freak, and wears tiaras in public.

I’ve been told that my blog is hard to comment on because I tell complete stories that don't really leave room for commentary…that isn’t going to stop so don’t throw a fit. What I am going to do is ask a question related to the story because I am not standing for these 0 comment posts anymore. I know your reading, so comment you freaks. (Threatening works right?) So the question is this. What was the best part of your 21st birthday? If you aren’t 21, best birthday moment…By best I mean funniest, don’t tell me about your boyfriend getting you a rimming salt and a cosmo mix, that is in no way entertaining. Hit me with the comments suckers.

Spiritual Kung Fu

It has been quite a while since I dropped a post that was more on the serious side. A post that proves that more goes on in my brain than trying to create metaphors and analogies that perfectly portray the usual craziness of my life. Get excited for the storm that is about to be unleashed…

I usually don’t post much about work in blogland primarily because I don’t have any interest in getting dooced. This week, however, work has caused me to do a bit of self reflection. Reflection that wasn’t necessarily revolving around understanding anything new, but realizing that a specific trait I have is a lot more intense and strong than I once thought. There is a guy at my office that is very different. Very. BUT he is so caring, and generous, and willing to help whenever he is needed. I have been absolutely horrified by the way people treat him. ADULTS. Adults acting like they are in 3rd grade treating him like he somehow is less then they are. Like he doesn’t deserve an ounce of respect because he doesn’t fit into what they would call the normal category. I was fuming earlier this week because he got chewed out for something that wasn’t a big deal by someone who had no authority to be telling him how to tie his shoe let alone anything else. I know that life isn’t fair, but I refuse to sit back and watch people be completely decimated because they either don’t fit in, or because someone is having an ego issue and needs a boost. Whether it is a guy in my office who is being treated unfairly, a woman in Africa being beaten and raped because she isn’t of the right tribe, or a child being forced into prostitution, it lights something inside me, it angers me to the point of tears. I hate it. I hate it because I can’t take away the hurt and the pain. I hate it because I can’t turn back time and manipulate the situation for a better outcome. I do however know that there is an end in sight. There is a day when darkness will fall on all pain and suffering, when there will be no more injustice. A day when all of humanity will behold Jesus, and no longer debate whether he is a savior, good man, alien, or Santa Claus. Until that day I can only hope I get opportunities to fight for those who can’t do it themselves, because that, THAT, is more humbling and exciting than almost anything I can think of.

Maybe if I mail him a picture of my sad lip he will change his mind...or give me a lovely copy of a restraining order

If I tell myself it this isn't happening, maybe it won't.

I am loosing my dear Abrams Report. Let the mourning begin. Hopefully I won't have the same reaction that I did after the very last episode of full house aired. Wailing, gnashing of teeth, you know a typical Friday. Actually I am sure Dan will inject MSNBC with more passion than General Hospital, but why does he have to go off the air. Why?! WHY!!!? I guess the bit about running a TV station might answer my question. I will quit being selfish, but I won't hide my sadness.

Further Evidence that I was adopted.

This weekend wrapped up what has been a 3 weekend streak going back to Topeka. I had been moving for 2 days and hardly had the energy to go home, but had to in order to partake in the visual catastrophe that is a dance recital. The dance recital itself was fine…it was as always the people I was with that were entertaining.

Act 1: What seemed to be a normal car ride to the recital was corrupted when my dad had what I can only assume was temporary amnesia and thought he was a race car driver and nearly gave me a heart attack about 8 times. The soundtrack for this little death spin, music he had to “choreograph” a fireworks show to….

Act 2: My grandma shouting at me during the finale- “You should design old lady clothes!!! I can’t find any anywhere.” She normally isn’t so loud, but I think she is losing her hearing. I obviously suggested she look into wearing more halter tops and hot shorts. She shook her head at me.

Act 3: In the bathroom at chili’s my sister is in one of the 2 stalls and there is no toilet paper. She asks me to get her some, but there is someone in the other stall. I give her a paper towel and she freaks and begins yelling who knows what. I accuse her of being high maintenance, and she decides the most appropriate way to deal with that accusation is yelling “I can’t use that, it will hurt my crotch!!!” as loudly as she can, really emphasizing the word crotch. Later I tell the story to my mom, Court overheard it and pitifully asked if we could not talk about it because her crotch was still hurting and she was trying not to think about it. I understand my laughter encourages this behavior, but how can you not laugh at that.

All in all it was a great weekend. Moving is not fun, actually moving is about the least amount of fun I can think of having, but the new digs are absolute perfection. AND I had some of my favorite people helping me. If you lifted a box on my behalf expect at least a good game pat in return, and perhaps if you are lucky a stunning rendition of free bird on air guitar complete with thrasher kicks and windmill arms from yours truly.

Was it really a good idea to take out her WISDOM teeth?

I realize the weekend has passed by a couple days, but I simply can’t go without doing a recap. I went home early Friday afternoon because my sister had her wisdom teeth taken out and wanted some company for a couple of days. I wish I would have practiced some bladder control exercises before departing because I have never laughed so hard in my life. It wasn’t at all shocking that she was milking her situation for all it was worth…and still is nearly a week later. I got a call yesterday solely because she was now able to eat chips. Seriously. My mind can stop pacing around the maze in my brain, the cold sweats can stop, the panic attacks may cease, all because the queen is now able to consume chips. I got a call today because she went to the doctor and wanted to let me know that this “surgery” (she keeps referring to the extraction of her wisdom teeth as "surgery". All the while making it sound as if she had an organ transplant, and her blood is now pumping with the help of a baboon heart.) saga may one day come to a close…but that day is most certainly not today, and likely will not be tomorrow either. The following are all real conversations that took place.

Place: a phone call to my cell phone the day of the “surgery”
Me: “Hey?...how are you awake right now didn’t the put you under? How are you?”
Courtney: “They did, I could only sleep for a couple of hours.”
Me: “O. Well…How’d it go?”
Courtney: “I balled when they were going to stick me with the IV and they told me they were going to give me the mask they used when they put old people to sleep…only I thought by “put to sleep” they meant like how they put dogs to sleep. So I freaked out even more. Then they put the mask on me and I don’t really remember much.”
Me: “O….well…uh...that was dramatic.”

Place: Mall food court; Courtney is breaking a pretzel into the tiniest pieces imaginable and chewing them with her front teeth, or sucking on it and then spitting it out when chewing became to much work.
Courtney: “I can’t feel this part of my mouth.” (proceeds to smack herself in the face)
Me: “I remember being numb for a couple days, it will go away.”
Courtney: (Clearly not buying that I know anything) “I am going to sue the doctor for paralyzing me.”
Me: “Paralysis, suing. That seems about right.”
Courtney: “Can I sue him for paralyzing me?”
Me: “You could if he ACTUALLY PARALYZED you.”
Courtney: “I am suing him.” (hits herself in the face again)

Place: home after a day of resting
Mom: “Are you okay Court?”
Courtney: “No. Whitney needs to go get me a frosty from Wendy’s…and she won’t.”
Whitney: “What?! You didn’t even ask me if I would go to Wendy’s. “
Courtney: “You should just do it.”
(uproarious laughter coming from everyone but Courtney)

Place: Home. I had been revamping a topiary for about 30 minutes when she looks over.
Courtney: "What are you doing? What is that thing?"
Me: "It is a topiary. I am re-mossing it."
Courtney: "You aren't putting that in your apartment are you? It looks like a bowl of grass."

This weekend has convinced me that my family needs a reality show. I am fairly sure that it would beat Hogan knows Best. I would be by far the most boring one on the show, like the sister you’d never see on the Osbornes, but I would always be in the background shaking my head and laughing…

"First time I had Bologna it was Nicaragua

I washed that *$%! down with a glass of agua."

If you haven't watched Jamie Kennedy's Blowin' Up. You need to figure out a way to get that done. We don't have cable, so maybe everyone has caught on to this show and is obsessed like I am. I hear that it re-runs all the time. I believe it is still free to download the first episode on i-tunes if that's an option for you. The basic premise of the show is that Jamie is trying to start a rap career, there have been several guest "stars." I am not going to tell you who, because specifically in the first episode it is much better to find out when you see it. Go. See. If you don't laugh you probably should consider getting some inner healing prayer because you might be dead inside, or in a coma.