What do most people do on vacations?

Run through the hotel at one in the morning to escape a fire that is engulfing the building? If you are a part of my weekend vacation than yes, that is exactly what you would do. I should clarify that the "fire" turned out to be the result of some idiot's decision to parade their stupidity around like they were starting a movement to promote mindless acts of idiocy. In their attempt to make their movement public the ringleader attempted to extinguish what in their mind must have looked like something being swallowed whole by flames. (Probably seen with the help of cocaine, most likely snorted off of a toilet seat.) Lesson from this: Don't use a fire extinguisher unless you have an actual FIRE, symbolic fire does not count. (Specifically if you are in a hotel.) They release enough smoke to bring down King Kong and will cause an earsplitting noise to pierce the ears of many potentially irate people who will find you and force you to listen to Kenny G and eat gluttonous amounts of creamed peas. Yes. I am that mean.

Secondly, 17 year old girls are weird. I know I used to be one. However, I fully remember using complete sentences without having to delve into my word bank and reuse. Apparently someone has been brainwashing these young things and now like every other like word is like like. Like I am like totally like not kidding. You're like totally like irritated with me like right now, aren't you? Drive me up a wall and shoot me. I just about lost my patience on a couple occasions but stopped myself short of yelling anything profane and causing 2 teenage girls to cry the tears of a misunderstood generation. What has happened to me? I used a filter, I fear I am loosing my edge....No (laughter under my breath) That will never happen.

Creativity is taking over my life...well, creativity and business

Alright, it is the post you have all been waiting for. The introduction of the stuff I have been talking about so vaguely for the past two months....here, and here, oh and here. Well not only do you get to hear about it, you get to see it. The anticipation is killing you isn't it.

I am going to abbreviate this because it is a rather long story. The basic premise is I have my own line of distressed clothing. I buy new or lightly used jeans and hoodies (at this point, much more to come) totally mess them up with the help of bleach and scissors. I then make it awesome with paint, patches, embroidery, buttons, beads, whatever I think is cool. They are getting marketed by the brilliant Lisa Strange. This weekend they will be traveling to Washington D.C. and next they will be going to Iowa. There is a store in KC that is selling them already...although she doesn't have the best jeans and I have been slacking in getting stuff to her because I am trying to build inventory at the moment. However, if you are interested in having your jeans painted I will be doing a promotional painting session that costs $10 a pair (for charity) this Thursday. It will be from 6-9 @ Retrophilia .

I had a photo shot this past weekend. It showcases the hoodies. In the future I will not be the model. In a couple weeks there will be another shoot with people who actually have asses to fill out the jeans. Anyway, if you don't know Brooke Raymond a. you should, and b. she is a rockstar photographer. She is the one who did the shoot, she is awesome.

http://flickr.com/photos/brooke/sets/72057594081567267/ here is the link!!!Enjoy.

Weird needs about 12 more letters, all of which are consonants, to fully explain my life.

For whatever reason people who were given more than their allotment of weird in their DNA are very drawn to me. My life has definitely been seasoned by these types of people. (Sometimes a little rosemary makes something just that much better. There are also times when it is more reminiscent of getting cayenne pepper poured directly into your eyes.) Some become close friends, others remain legends in the vault of stories I carry with me, and whip out when I am reminded of them. This weekend only added to the stories.

I was walking out of Wal-Mart when I hear
"Excuse Me?"
I, thinking I must have dropped something/ left my card behind/ had a wide open fly said
"Yes"
The woman staring at me then asks "Are you Jewish?"
To which I quizzically respond "No.?."
Her reply was "Oh, I couldn't tell."

I know what you are all thinking. No, I was not running around the store screaming "SHALOM!!!!" at the top of my lungs. I didn't even so much as step into the Kosher food section.

To cap off the whole story I saw her driving away and she drove a big white car with huge red letters on the side that read "HAVE A MITZVAH TODAY!"

Next story: Place: Target. The one in Ward Parkway. It is my favorite not because of the selection, but because of the staff, they are always doing crazy things. Singing at the top of their lungs while they ring me up, you know the usual.

Surprisingly it was not the staff doing weird things this trip. First, I see a mom and son (about 10 years old) in the underwear section. The mom looks at the boy and says "you are wired.." in a "seriously child if you don't stop running in place and screaming I will not hesitate to put this bra over your head and make you run around the store saying I am a pretty little girl" sort of way and proceeds to dump a bottle of aquafina on his head. As she does this the boy yells "I AM STILL WIRED!!!"

Then when I am leaving the bathroom a brother and sister come into THE WOMAN'S BATHROOM!!! The boy is about 12 or 13 so it isn't like he needs help or doesn't realize there's a difference. I don't know why he was in there. He did feel the need to share that he was probably going to "cut the cheese." I really appreciated that warning.

I think if these encounters suddenly ended I would not know how to function. How do you react when you are surrounded by perfect socially acceptable beings?! That is a kind of alternate universe I don't want to go to, it just isn't fun. And to be quite honest most the people I love wouldn't be there.

Holy Skunk Pelts Batman! We're being FOLLOWED!!!!!!

This + this = Sarah's worst nightmare! I wish I would have had a video camera in my car yesterday. Sarah and I were in my car on the way back to her house after dinner. We pull up to a stop light and without even a flinch Sarah looks at me and says “that is the worst toupee I have ever seen.” That was the understatement of the year. This elderly (I am not exaggerating) man had what looked like a skunk pelt that he took a curling iron to on his head. We began noticing that he was staring at us. Let me take this opportunity to define stare in this instance. By stare I mean eyes squinting, face scrunched to half its size and his nose had to be no less than ½ an inch from the window. (I blame Sarah. She was sitting closest to him. Don’t show that cute face off girl…unless you want some old man lovin’….I fear I may have just lost a friend.) It was then we realized this man was pacing us. I just sat there staring at him because I wanted him to know I saw him, and that I could kick his butt if he tried anything. Luckily I was wearing a sleeveless shirt so I could show off my massive guns. The next stoplight we came to I stopped about 20 feet behind the car in front of me to see what the dude was trying to pull. He stopped right next to my car. It should be noted that there were no cars in front of him. Sarah had yet to see the mug I had been staring at. I don’t think I have ever seen her so freaked out. She claims that face will give her nightmares…which may actually be true. I don’t think I can put words to the kind of strange this face was. I decided that since there are cars behind me and I haven’t had a turn signal on now would be the time to lose him. I slam on the gas and make a really quick left turn. It is really good I had the “bat out of hell” button installed. Sarah then sees the man turn around in a parking lot and did something I have never seen or heard her do in our nearly 7 year friendship. She screamed at the top of her lungs, which makes me start laughing because it was so unexpected. I went to bed last night and just started laughing hysterically because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thanks Sarah, It was a great car ride.

Sorry. Not Sorry.

I am sorry that...

No one I am friends with got to watch a webcast of our home office being invaded by an old woman dressed as a fairy spouting off lewd comments and trying to get things out of mens back pockets with her wand. And they paid her to do it. Did I mention that it was broadcast to about 13,000 employees?

Sometimes I wear fuzzy socks and try to "ice skate" on our wood floors, and usually end up making a loud thud.

I have eaten half a bag of mint patties today.

I wasn't there when my boss was at a client's house (inside) and was told in all seriousness to watch out for gliders (flying squirrels.)

I have a habit of turning ordinary sentences into raps, and then seeing how long I can freestyle before I run out of rhyming words.

I take up more than the allotted decibels for my size.

the music in Pride and Prejudice makes me want to do an old ballet bar routine.

In an effort to make where I grew up cutting edge I cut all the neighborkid's bangs to approximately 1/2 inch of fuzz when I was 6.

I am not really sorry.

Smells Like Teen Spandex

The beginning of the year signifies one thing in my family. DANCE COMPETITION season! The final competition was this past weekend. Every year I walk away from these competitions with approximately 300 less brain cells than I came into it with. This year colorful commentary was there every weekend. One weekend in particular was the climax. In a matter of a couple hours all of the following things happened.

I made conversation with this woman in the hallway because she had the coolest shoes on. I noticed everyone was kind of watching me talk to her, but I chose to think they were all freaks and I was the normal one. Turns out she is a really famous dancer and was one of the judges. I still maintain that they were all freaks...I am sure famous dancers like to be told they look cute just as much as those of us who don't have muscles that are visible when doing arduous things like pointing.

I tried to reserve some seats when some women were getting up and one of them looked at me like I had just kicked a three-legged puppy and said "We aren't leaving." (really rudely) I held my tongue because I know the type of people who will start a fight. She was one of them. I didn't want to have to beat her up in front of 1,000 people.

Every boy that took the stage only buttoned the second button on their dress shirt so that their skinny 16-year-old boy abs could easily be viewed by everyone in the auditorium. I am sorry if that is the new thing to do, but please, you look ridiculous. Everyone knows the 3rd button is a much sexier option.

A chick in one of the worst dances of the evening kept making a face that would scare Hannibal Lector. It was a pucker so big it made her eyes shut almost completely. I didn't get it, but I did laugh.

A girl used my face as a spot. (Spot- when turning a dancer will keep their eye on one spot, typically a spot on a wall, in order to keep dizziness and yaking at bay.) I didn't know where to look. I chose the high road and made the weirdest faces I could.

Last but not least during a song appropriately titled "skin" a girl popped out of her costume and didn't realize it for about a minute. Maybe they should have considered costumes that weren't scraps of fabric tied around their bodies. Just an idea from the department of obvious.

So all in all I would say it was a really winning year. Whit did great. Won a bunch of scholarships as per usual. And I, well I got to experience the pure joy of laughing at strangers.

I suppose 1/2 a lecture in nearly 24 years is good.

I made a good decision, and I got a lecture from my dad anyway. It is highly possible that he is trying to make up for never giving me a lecture before..at least not that I can remember. It is probable that the reason has much to do with my very high level of determination. This quality is most certainly a double-edged sword. Much of the time all logic is thrown out the window when I have a goal in sight. This, I am sure, is utterly frustrating as a parent. When your kid takes a cigar out of your mouth and breaks it in half when you're celebrating with your buddies because she is going to stop you from smoking if it means following you around and breaking everything you smoke, I'd imagine it is irritating. Or when I decided that procrastination is not the answer and I single handedly moved all of my bedroom furniture into my dad's old office in the basement. I say old office because it became the "old office" when it became my "new bedroom." Or when I tried setting up a "Say NO to Drugs" product sale at the end of my neighbors driveway only to get told by a mean old lady down the street that the cops were getting called on me...I don't get this either. I could see protesting if we were selling "Let's smoke some weed in 1993" t-shirts out of a tie-dyed spray-painted old suburban, but 10 year olds trying to make a dime, are ya kidding me lady? Nope she wasn't. Cops showed up. We went inside. Lesson learned, don't test old women. They call the cops, and are out of their minds. I think at least one of those instances required some sort of lecture, but I didn't even kind of get one until last weekend... I realized why about half-way through when I looked up and said "I don't know why we are talking about this, I have already made the right decision." Sometimes I scare myself because I know I will someday look down at a two year old who is picking up the phone to call third world countries and save babies and they will say "don't even think about the lecture mom, I am saving millions of kids, You can spare a couple bucks on a phone bill, they only have one shirt...have you seen your closet lately? Whatever I don't care. I AM MAKING THE RIGHT DECISION. " and at that point the world will implode.

I'll Cry if it Saves Me Money...

I can never talk my way out of tickets, ever. Unfortunately, I have the sometimes pain in the ass characteristic of telling it how it is. The inability to lie or cry when it would be most lucrative. So I find myself saying things like. "Yeah I know why you pulled me over. I was speeding." Very matter-of-factly, with very little emotion. Well, I got pulled over...again. I was so pissed off I started crying (because it is the 3rd time I have gotten pulled over for going 36 in a 25 when I didn't know I was in a 25.) Guess who didn't get a ticket for speeding?

I have compiled a list of things that do and do not work when trying to talk your way out of tickets (most are things I have actually witnessed or used)...

Do...(obviously a lot fewer of the dos because I always get the ticket)

1. be honest, and a good conversationalist. My mom once talked her way out of 5 tickets in a month because she told the truth, and within seconds had the officer chatting up a storm. One of those times she was with my girl scout troop. She was taking us to the prison, and you better believe she had that officer engaged in conversation about the jail.

2. If you actually have tears coming, use them to your advantage.

3. If you see the opportunity to flirt, do. (Sorry men, this may not be the best solution for you)

4. Stay calm. Even if you are crying this is crucial.


Do Not...

1. Get so upset you are crying but not breathing and wailing but not talking. It is a ticket, not an injection of deadly poison.

2. Get out of your car and start running. Specifically if you are a man in a thong leopard print leotard. Ick to the nth degree. Things I don't need to see, there are lots of them in that scenario.

3.Try and argue your way out of the ticket. For instance:
Cop: Do you know why I pulled you over?
Perp: Because you are either blind or can't read your radar gun...
Cop: You were going 50 in a 20, sir/ma'am.
Perp: No I wasn't. The road was slippery and I was on a hill. My brakes weren't working, and I think I am coming down with the flu so my eyes are really itchy.
Cop: Yes you were, and it's 85 degrees and dry, how was the road slippery?
Perp: oil spill? *wink*

4. wink

5. Get so pissed off you have to be tasered.



p.s. For those of you who gave really great input on the last post I have chosen not "nauty codpiece, " but ROLLICK for the name of my line. Thanks for all your really thoughtful input. It was really, um, well not at all helpful actually. It did make me laugh though. An update on all things rollick to come within the next couple days.

I would rather Panic! at the Disco than do anything at a Country bar.

It has been a long time since I got a CD that I couldn't get enough of. I am talking almost a year here. I have finally found a new poison. It is a band called Panic! at the disco. I got the CD on Saturday and I think I have listened to it all the way through 10 times already. For those of you who are worried my musical taste has taken a one way flight to crapville, don't worry. It's not Disco. The best way I can describe it is Fall out boys with more electronica. AND with song titles like "The only difference between suicide and matyrdom is the press coverage" how can you not love them. Awesome. At the very least download "Lying is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" I will warn people who don't like cussing, there is some.

On a totally separate note I am looking for a name for some clothing design I am doing. All you word people I am talking to you. I want it to be one word. Obviously it has to be kind of edgy. No, it can't be expletive. Although da' Shit designs would be great. I am not a rapper. So there are your stipulations. Start thinking, and either post a comment or email me your ideas. (Quickly, I only have a couple days.)

Depressing Excitement

Last night was rough. Personally I had a great day, but after work I called my dad to chat about some tax stuff and realized the instant he answered the phone that something was not right. He was talking really fast, it made my hands sweat. One of his really good friends went to visit his daughter and found her dead. I don't know his friend or the daughter, but I have never heard my dad so shaken up in my life. My dad has always been a pillar of masculinity. I have only seen him shed one tear. When I talked to him later in the evening he was getting really choked up, and having a hard time talking. Before we got off the phone he told me he loved me. After a couple seconds I told him I loved him. It was one of the few times I think I actually thought about the weight of what I was saying. It was a hard, beautiful moment I will not soon forget. The reason I share this is not to talk about my sad night. It is because it was one of those evenings where I realized just how fleeting life is. I am left restless by that realization. Primarily because there is so much I want to do in my life that the thought of it quickly coming to an end leaves me aching for an urgency I do not have. I want an adventurous spirit (not in a mountain biking kind of way) the kind of spirit that doesn't allow fear to take hold when something potentially risky comes along. The kind of spirit that jumps off symbolic cliffs knowing that it may hurt to land, but it is a lot better than not knowing what it felt like to jump. Sometimes trusting that God actually knows what He is doing is really hard in those situations, but I know He will catch me if I put myself in a place for Him to do so. I don't believe I am on this earth to be a quiet, mild-mannered Christian. That just isn't who I am. It is time to start living life the way it was meant to be lived. With reckless abandon. Watch out for cliff jumpers.

The reason I am not an "inventor"

There is a reason my creativity is being harnessed in the wonderful industry of insurance. It is because when I come up with ideas for new things, inventions if you will, they are absolutely horrible. Today my idea's were centering around some sort of board game. A game that asks what celebrity had a propensity for what drug. (I know, I know I'm kinda playin it fast and loose with the word invention.) Questions would read something like this. Which child star's boredom in her early 20's led to her addiction to Methamphetamines? Ding Ding Ding Who is Stephanie Tanner. CCCOORREECCCTT! And then there would be information about that drug on the back of the playing card. For instance "This drug is the reason you can't get any Friggin' sudafed when you go to target at 9 pm and the pharmacy is closed." Who doesn't want to play that game? I think it sounds like at least 5 minutes of fun. Alright not really, but it is informative. We all know how well informative games sell. Maybe there could be a whole line of Warning games. The perils of alcohol. Different types of STD's. Ahhh. (That's a scream not Aww how cute those kitties would be if I stuck them in the blender...sorry Amy) Flashbacks to 8th grade and the co-ed slide show viewing of real life STD's. Talk about scare tactics. Making 13 year olds view stranger's sickly special places in a room with the opposite sex, NOT NICE!! I was a very shy girl then, I could barely spread a rumor let alone herpes. So no STD game. I will spare those pre-teens with parents who want to talk about sex with them in a "cool" way the pain. Instead I will invite them to any family event with me. They think talking to their parents about sex isn't fun try my grandma. Talk about fun, I got your fun right here.

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.