The Explosion of 2005!!!

Don't worry I am not planning on trying out any pyrotechnics, although don't rule that out forever. It is just not in my immediate plans. My dad sells fireworks for fun, some of that sick fascination with fire and explosions is bound passed down through the warped gene pool that is my own.

Anyway moving on to the wrap up of one year in the life of Tiffany.

Favorite Movie: Walk the Line

Top 3 Albums:
#1 Cold Roses ~ Ryan Adams...music for any mood
#2 Gimme Fiction ~ Spoon....funky, eclectic, really fun
#3 Hot fuss ~ The Killers....good for when I am angry

# of times I have thanked the Lord for Sarah's gift of discernment and classic "can I make an observation" question: Countless. Crying in public has never been so fun or relieving.

# of jobs: 3

# of dates: 1, the fewest number since I started dating. I'm not down about it though. I got asked out by a fair share of Kansas City's finest men. One guy had just broken off an engagement a couple weeks before and thought asking me to mountain bike/run/roller blade (obviously not a familiar with me) with him 2 minutes after we met was a good idea. (Note to anyone wanting to ask someone out, wait at least 3 minutes after meeting someone to do it. You may find something that is a little harder to say no to than rollerblading.) He didn't understand "no" so he emailed my friend for the next week trying to find out my address. (Classy) Sorry dude my friends don't give my address out to strangers.

# of conversations with a four year old about pin worms, bladder infections, and "sprints ugly overages": 1

# of weddings attended: 14

# of Chocolate Diet Cokes from Sonic ingested: at least 1,000 (stop cringing, it is the most delicious thing ever)

# of haircuts:3

# of crushes: 4 (Don't even think about asking.)

# of times my mom told me I buy my clothes to big: about 5 ("Those pants are way to big Tiff" "Mom they are a medium, I wear an 8...8's don't wear smalls, I am fine with it") At least she didn't grab the crotch of my pants like she did when I was little to see if she could pull them down.

# of times I watched the Lizzie McGuire Movie: 3 (not by choice)

# of incidents that involve my sister trying to lunge at me and punch my face in: 1 (note the word trying...my mom held her back. My walking away in the middle of fights really pisses her off. I am a lover not a fighter, scratch that, I am a debater not a scream at the top of your lungs until your voice box explodes type of girl. Be warned I debate with the best of them, it is a shame I did forensics.)

# of times eharmony has been recommended as a dating solution for me: 2...not gonna happen.

Amount of money spent at Starbucks: my estimation is around $400. I have cut back as of late.
It is an addiction, don't give me a lecture, I know.

# of accidents/tickets: 1, down from 2004 by 3...ahh brakes, it's good to finally know how to work you.

Favorite things/addictions of 2005:
Sweet tea from Arby's...I may as well be from the south
fuzzy socks from Target...I can't stop buying them
oil burners...if you haven't heard me talk about these you don't talk to me often
New York City...both times
bangs
long necklaces
Bright Green coming back in style
Ralph Lauren Turquoise...it is in competition with RL Romance, which I have worn since it came out my junior year in high school. Smell it, enjoy.
Vests
wife beaters (the shirt obviously not the sob's that hit their wives. Duh.)

Good bye 2005 you have been eventful. Bring it on 2006 you saucy minx.

Come out Bob Barker I know you are behind this...

There is the obvious yellow ribbon supporting our troops, and pink supporting breast cancer, but finally there is one that really expresses America's concern...the pet population.

Cover your mouth up like you got SARS....if you hang around my sister.

It was a fairly normal Christmas this year for once in my life! I am figuring a normal Christmas for me is anything but that. It was seemingly deficient in the things that usually make Christmas worthy of an annual admittance to the local mental institution. Only 2 people cried!
Here are a couple of highlights:

-I sprayed myself in the face with perfume in the middle of the mall. Right in the eyes. My eyes were red and burning for the rest of the night.

-Court tells Whit she needs to brush her teeth because her breath stinks. (She is rude about it, because it isn't in Court's nature to be discrete.) How does she know if Whit's been brushing her teeth? She regularly feels her toothbrush to see if it is wet. After that stunning peek into the world of caring way to much about others hygiene I state:
"You lack a filter."

To which she replies:

"I am tired, NOT LACK OF FILTER.... What is lack of filter?"


-Home video that I wish I could get on the internet because it is begging to be seen by more than my immediate family.

It is footage of our first trip to the ocean when I was in 5th grade. Every one of my family members is perfectly embodied in their actions in the 3 minutes of tape.

It begins with Whitney, who was 4 at the time, walking on all fours (not crawling, on her hands and feet with her butt in the air) across the beach. She then gets slammed by a wave, and is walking like a drunk up the beach. She is met by Court who saw the whole thing, dabs Whit's face and then snatches the towel away so Whitney won't take it. Whit then gets on all fours and begins pecking at the ground... don't know why, and then lays down. Courtney keeps going about two feet away from the water and them screaming like water is a foreign substance brought here by martians in order to wipe out the human race FOREVER!!! My mom (who will not go under water because to her getting your hair wet is similar to getting your skinned gnawed off by a flesh eating bacteria) gets knocked over by a kid on a boogie board and falls over, once she regains her balance and stands again she gets knocked over by a wave. My dad is standing about knee deep in water throwing rocks into the ocean, another puzzler. Whitney finds 2 kids who want to be like her and she leads them back across the beach on all fours. She then goes and picks up sand and throws it at what I am guessing was her attempt to get it into water, but she stands so far away she is throwing it on her band of followers. And you never see me because apparently I was safely wading at neck deep, or attempting to catch non-existent waves.

It lacked the usual "I got locked in a dungeon when I was 3 months old and this is my first time seeing sunlight" drama, but was still a hysterically weird, quirky, and wonderful weekend at home. If you want a funnier Christmas story read Sarah's post. She has the only father that gives my dad a run for the weirdest dad stories ever award.

A lesson in the art of present wrapping.

"He said he is giving me an unwrappable present"

"What does that mean?"

"It means he can't wrap it."

"He better not give you a hug."

The one with all the quirks...

The following are a list of quirks that one is bound to run into if any time with me is spent.

1. I shower irregularly. It is disgusting and is in direct conflict with the next thing on my list.

2. I hate smelling bad. I have hypersensitive senses and I can smell things from a mile away. It is a rare day when I am not wearing perfume of some sort. I carry perfume in my purse just in case. My car even has its own scent. Febreeze is the love of my life.

3. I always drink with a straw. Always.

4. If I am making a point at some point in the discussion I will be scrunching my hair and sucking in my cheeks. When I feel like I have just put the exclamation on a point, which is obviously right, and there is a cup around I apparently make some sort of face and then take a drink, out of my straw of coarse.

5. I talk in weird accents and voices.

6. I don't like sleeping with other people in my bed. Pillows. Pillows are what I like in my bed.

7. I hate fish. They freak me out. Went snorkeling in about 2 feet of water in the Bahamas and absolutely lost it because tiny angel fish were swarming around my head. Eww.. I feel like they're on me right now.

8. I am anal retentive about my teeth. That is kind of a gross way to put that. I have a tooth picker, a tongue scraper, a tooth brush, whitening retainer. If it is put in the oral hygiene aisle I own it. I love going to the dentist.

9. I use both bar soap and body wash. Don't ask why, you don't want to know.

10. I dance. All the time. Anywhere. The kitchen, on my way to the copy machine, in the shower. I once fell out of the shower due to this bad habit. If they didn't line the doors with metal I wouldn't have ended up wet, naked, AND bloody on my parents bathroom floor. Pretty sure they thought I was shot when they heard my scream followed by the huge thud.

Feel free to add more, I am the quirkiest person alive so there are many I am leaving out.

Just an idea:
If you don't read my friend amy's blog you a. need to, and b. per her request googlism your name. It is awesome. Just to give you an idea of the joy that is before you here's what mine pulled up:

tiffany is an online multiplayer
tiffany is going to kill you
tiffany is an 8 year old korean male who
tiffany is getting real
tiffany is toll free
tiffany is in town
tiffany is" you can see how to do this same thing here
tiffany is a good talker
tiffany is an online multiplayer game about four guys trying to win the favor of a super hot chick named tiffany
tiffany is a flash
tiffany is a young adult silkie girl not for the faint hearted
tiffany is so tasty
tiffany is curious about sixty minute man's costume
tiffany is the bond that holds us all together
tiffany is simply to get her to dig you and choose you over the slew of other guys out there doing the same thing
tiffany is an online multiplayer
tiffany is an 8 year old korean male who
tiffany is going to kill you
tiffany is toll free
tiffany is a medium
tiffany is recognized internationally as a trademark for beauty and elegance
tiffany is silent no more she was ultimately the queen of pop of the '80s
tiffany is an acclaimed international speaker and has been featured at internet industry conferences
tiffany is played exclusively on
tiffany is feeling real frisky
tiffany is still on steroids to keep her brain fluid draining
tiffany is caused by an overwhelming systemic response to infection

who knew? I mean I did know I was male, Korean, a flash and a response to infection, but everything else...Wow!

It's all fun and games until somebody drowns in a pool while strapped to some sort of wheel.

My boss just told me her son thinks he is carrying his baby sister in his stomach and won't "poo" because she might fall out. Hey, at least he is protecting her.

I never found that kind of protectiveness with my sisters. I got handed a hot curling iron by Courtney who said it wasn't hot, when in fact she had plugged it in so that she could turn my hand into her own personal "let's see what happens when human skin is heated to the point of boiling" experiment. Later that year she mistook me for some sort of sparkler sword fighter and whipped me on my arm with a 3 foot sparkler that was still on fire. (As a side note that same 4th of July a June bug flew up my nose. Not my best 4th of July.) She got her fair share though my littlest sister Whitney peed in a dixie cup and told Courtney it was lemonade. It only took her one sip to realize that it was in fact not a sugary sweet drink but the waste of a toddler. Yummy. Apparently we were raised by people who thought of pain and affliciton as child's play. Who needs monopoly when Chinese water torture is an option? Obviously not the Matalone's.

Beauty of the Unknown and Unanswerable...

I had the luxury of a 4 day weekend and what did I do? I got completely depressed by reading The Hiding Place. Started it Friday, finished it Monday. For those who don't know the premise of the book it is basically a woman's (Corrie Ten Boom) journey through World War II. I was joking that I thought it was going to change my life, but in the end it is no joke at all. God has destroyed my incompassionate heart, and by default me in this woman's story. I have come to the conclusion that my brain paints very vivid pictures when I read. I think this is why anything in the genre of fantasy is so boring to me. Reality is so beautiful, thrilling, painful, gripping and a constant reminder that God works in ways that are as mystifying as they are wondrous.

Corrie Ten Boom grew up in Holland. She and her sister lived with their father in a watch shop. Ultimately Corrie became the center of "the underground" (a group that helped hide Jews all over Holland.) She was arrested put in prison, and eventually got transported to a concentration camp.

Throughout the book I constantly found myself putting myself in her place. These people took in the people that no one else would take. They were every moment risking themselves for the sake of strangers. The part that gets me is they could have avoided it all because they weren't Jewish. How many times do I choose not to help because it is easier for me? When she was in solitary confinement I was just imagining the pity party I would be throwing while she was praying. They (Corrie and her sister Betsie) thanked God for the fleas in their bunks, they held worship services for everyone. They lived with the boldness we are called to live with, and God blessed them for it. It turned out the fleas they thanked God for were the reason they never got caught during the worship services. The guards wouldn't come near their dorm because of them. They were granted an amount of privacy that was probably unheard of in concentration camps because of a disgusting bug I would have been cursing. It is one of the best pictures of good and evil in humanity I have ever seen. I was sick for a number of hours, completely disgusted with the depth of wickedness in humans. How can someone kick someone to death and feel no guilt, in fact feel good, like they are doing human kind some sort of service? I get brainwashing. I understand that it is very powerful, but you have to at some point put yourself in a position to be brainwashed. It doesn't just happen one day while your on the way to the store. How did a man so corrupt get into power and manage to coerce a nation into believing that Germans were somehow better than anyone else? How did no one stop him before millions upon millions of people died for no reason? Why does genocide keep happening? It just isn't fair. I hate it.

I will leave you with a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer to think about because I could rant for 10 hours about this...

"It is the nature, and the advantage of strong people that they can bring out the crucial questions and form a clear opinion about them. The weak always have to decide between alternatives that are not their own."

Either 4 Wheel Drive is AMAZING, or my Driving Skills have become much better.

I could not wait to leave work yesterday to try out my new car in the snow. Mmm it was AWESOME! After years of driving a car with questionable (zero) traction (If car Ice dancing was an Olympic sport I would have numerous gold medals) it was absolutely incredible to break on to the road with a vehicle that has 4 wheel drive. Wow, I didn't know what I was missing.

List of events for yesterday late afternoon and evening:

Push a loaded shopping cart through a snowy parking lot using all of body weight and become as parallel with the ground as possible while still having feet on ground.

Make food and eat with roommates.

Be reminded of the last date I went on when everyone who was at our house (somewhere around 10 people) piled onto the front porch and waved as my date picked me up. It was a really neat experience. Why does crap like this always happen to me?

Have roommates work colleagues over and learn about WIZARD magazine. A magazine about comic books.

Get up and go to bed when one of colleagues is threatening to say a "bad" word to get a dirty look from me. (side note: If he knew anything about me he would know a "bad" word isn't going to get a dirty look, talking about comic books some more might.)

Have a Gassy Christmas!!!

In an effort to recoup the mass quantities of readers I apparently offended for using the word "gassy" in my last post, I will use it as much as possible in the future. Sorry people death threats don't work on me. I know where I am headed if I get axed. A warning to my enemies: I am getting pretty muscle-y now and I have gained the added virtue of Unagi (If you don't watch Friends sorry you are missing out on a joke) so if you come creeping around my place in hopes of my demise watch your back you may get salmon skin rolled to death. (Another friends reference...sorry) So I guess I am not recouping anyone...sorry. If I get embarrassed it needs to be shared, that is just the way I work. Keeps me humble.

To the 3 of you still reading I am going to begin posting about my favorite Christmas memories. Why? Because if you haven't realized it yet I have a freaking hilarious family, and I keep getting flashbacks of really strange things we have done in the past for Christmas. I am hoping if I share them I can stop crying myself to sleep. The one memory in particular that keeps coming back to me is the year my dad stuck a candle in a half eaten loaf of bread and forced us to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus. I mean I guess it was Jesus' birthday. I am pretty sure Jesus was laughing. I think the part I found weirdest was that it wasn't that long ago. We're talking 6 years ago at the most. Simply Frightening.

One Christmas I put together a Christmas play loosely based on Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" with my neighbor kids. If you have read this blog in the past you probably remember this post in which I revealed my high hopes of becoming a singer/actor/director/rapper...alright not a rapper. The play had three sets, I was the mom in one of the families. Everyone else was forced to listen to me in the play, and during the rigorous 3 hour practice sessions held in an unfinished, freezing basement. Basically I was the bitchy mom who everyone hated. (The kind that make you take a nap during Zoobilee Zoo when they invited you over to play with their kid that you don't even like... And the bitterness surfaces.) I think it had one viewing, and received very poor ratings. It would prove to be my last directorial and acting endeavor to this point. Let the sighs of relief begin.
Parting word:
Apparently last year my boss gave someone a Santa Claus carrying a bag that says "Happy Birthday Jesus," was leaking green goo, and for some reason had to be plugged in to someone as a white elephant gift. Her mother-in-law gave it to her for real. Why are we making it harder than it already is? It is pretty hard to say being a Christian is cool when you have crap like that on the market. I am pulling out my Fear Not shirt asap. (Consider yourself lucky if you have no clue what I am rambling about.)

O what a night. You should be like me instead of bein' like Mike.

I really thought I wasn't supposed to work out last night because I got to the gym and had mysteriously lost my card to get in. Once I made my way in I realized I didn't bring my headphones which meant 30 minutes on a machine with nothing to listen to. As is typical I was very wrong. I get on my machine and about 2 minutes in the guy next to me starts rapping under his breath. As my workout continues he keeps getting more and more audible. The rapper hand motions slowly become integrated. Then it happened. With no warning whatsoever he looks at me and begins rapping at/to me. At that point I had no clue what he was rapping about, but I definitely recognized the next song. I will spare you the lyrics because they are horrible. I will say he made a booty slapping motion more than once. It took everything in me not to laugh uncontrollably. I am going to start forgetting my headphones more often.

I found out last night that lettuce makes you gassy. Apparently your body doesn't digest it very well. Information that would have been good to know before my body rejected the huge plate of lettuce I ate. Issues ensued at the movie theater. Let's just say I am glad I was the only one in the bathroom. Those details will be spared as well. (I don't want to loose Sarah as a friend, I think announcing my bodily functions anymore than I already have on the internet would at least get me on friend suspension.) I am only further encouraged never to get salad on a date. Like I would ever do that anyway.

It's that time of year where I reflect on past journal entries.

How's that for a title. I leave very little to the imagination.

Last night I read the first entry of my journal for this year, which I haven't read since I wrote on February 19th.(Why I didn't journal for the first month and a half I don't know) I began reading thinking "oh this will be cool, I am sure stuff has changed." I had no idea. Here is the part I found most captivating.

Everything is changing. May You give me peace in yet another year of transition. May this be a year of sweet renewal and blessing. Isaiah 61 come soon! May I truly find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with You. May I find myself leaning on You naturally, by habit, not only when times get unbearable. May I see You move in ways I have never thought possible. I am delighted by You in my pain. You are my love. You are my peace. You are why I am.

Every single thing I prayed about has become more of a reality than I could have even conceived at that point in time. How easy is it to forget that God actually cares about what I am thinking, doing, seeing, anything? He cares even more than I care. He wants me to be happy, and I don't really think I've ever actually believed that. But it is true. It is so easy to focus my thoughts on all the crap going on in the world, even just in my family, but that is missing the point. Until Jesus comes back there will always be something for me to be upset about. If that is where I chose to direct all of my energy, everything I do will seem plagued by futility and hopelessness. I have all the hope in the world, God has my back, and my front for that matter. That is what I need to be spreading, that is what I need to be focusing on. Not terrorism, disease, or my Dad's choice in clothing. I have so much to be thankful for, God has blessed me with the most wonderful friends and the most quirky family. Thanks to all of you who have been my rocks throughout the years. I can't even begin to think of what my life would be like now without you.

What is normal?

nothing you will read in the next 5 minutes.

1.Thanksgiving
Anytime we have a large family gathering I feel like I am on some sort of reality show where they put a couple of normal people in the midst of a lot of larger than life characters that have nothing better to do than terrorize the village of normal. My autistic 2nd cousin played Hawaii 5-0 and Star Wars on the flute/clarinet for 6 hours with a brief (and by brief I mean 10 minutes) intermission for lunch. I mean this in the nicest way, but it sounded like someone was repeatedly smacking a bag of cats against the wall. (I guess there really is nothing nice about that.) My dad kept most of the men busy showing them his gun collection. ( side note: he somehow managed to get attacked by a pheasant a week ago.) My grandma didn't recognize me, she also thought I was in the paper the next morning...I was not. My aunt who is 33 came in wearing her fiance's letter jacket from the early 90's and complaining about it in a way that you know she's trying to evoke either compliments or jealously. I don't do events like that very well. I want to get a microphone and tell everyone what I am doing, where I am living, and that I am not dating anyone that way I only have to do it once. Then they can all give me that look of pity because I am the oldest woman EVER to not be married. Spare me, I am happy, I don't care. Whitney and I watched a lot of FRIENDS and went and saw RENT aka the worst movie ever made. Six words: dancing 80's singer with a mullet. If it sounds intriguing, funny, anything other than horrible, you're wrong.

2. I left this weekend with the nickname Bruce.

3. There are more white-tailed deer on the continent than ever before. (that was just for you Sarah.)


uhhh... I was just looked at in all seriousness and told not "to mess with a grieving widow"

10 things that are guaranteed to make me want to curse (part 2)

I should mention these are in no particular order, they all drive me nuts.

5. Men who insist on car flirting.
-(Sorry to the readers of the male persuasion on this one. Although women may car flirt too, I just haven't been forced against my will to endure that.) You know what I am talking about though. It usually rears its ugly head in one of the following ways. Keeping pace with my car, yelling out the window, or my favorite honking. Honestly, what is honking going to do? Put me in a trance where I suddenly lose all control of myself and pull over my car so we can have what will obviously be a very profound and meaningful conversation. Yeah, and Ryan Adams doesn't do drugs, he's just a little different.

4. Paris Hilton
- If I have to explain why you don't get me at all.

3. People who are 23 and act like they are in middle school.
- You know the types, you swear they are 12 year olds trapped inside an adults body. They have a need to draw attention to themselves using any mean possible. Usually smell of either B.O. or to much cologne.

2. People who think I need to try things like camping.
-Trust me there are just some things I don't need to try in order to know I don't like them. Those people also forget I lived in the middle of the woods in an un-airconditioned cabin with an outdoor bathroom for a month in the middle of the summer. There were large insects in my shower. Nothing was anywhere close to clean. Take away the cabin and replace it with a tent, and get rid of the bathroom all together. Yeah, camping sounds like a real joy. What are you nuts? I would rather be flung from a moving vehicle.

1. Our Neighbor.
-She hasn't struck lately, but when she does it is hilariously annoying.

1. she climbed over our fence to show Erin how to trim our Peonies. (She's in her 60's)
2. came over to "compliment" a flower arrangement I was doing and to inform me that the few step marks in the snow on her lawn from a frisbee game the night before irritated her because she's "had kids, now she wants a yard."
3. came over to tell us we need to weed, and rake.
4. Referred to my roommate Erin as Tina. Why? I don't know.
5. When a ground squirrel ran over my arm and I screamed like a woman in labor she looked at me like I was nuts and reminded me it was more scared of me than I was of it. Thanks, that helps.

10 things that are guaranteed to make me want to curse (Part 1)

10. Commercials for toothpaste where the model is using no toothpaste.
- Just for doing that I want to squirt toothpaste all over you and dump cheetos on your
head. Here's an idea, use the product your trying to sell.

9. Talking on the phone for 2 hours to someone who I A. just saw or B. lives 10 minutes away.
-Unless there has been an emergency in the 5 minutes since I've seen you, don't call. If you live 10 minutes away and would rather me sacrifice the use of my right arm for the rest of the night rather than have me drive 10 minutes, do you really need to talk to me that badly?Hint:The answer is no.

8. Pretending to have a really genuine conversation with someone who wouldn't know what REAL was if a UFO filled with unicorns landed in their backyard.
- Do I need to comment on how horrendous this sort of situation is for me. They are the prime contenders for Tiffany's amazing foot in mouth show.

"Hey! You look ADORABLE!"-them

"Uh, I just woke up. I am wearing a tshirt with paint all over it. I HAVE
MASCARA LEFT OVER FROM LAST NIGHT SMEARED ACROSS MY FACE!"-me

"Very cool, it's like a new kind of fashion makeup."-them

"Stop sucking up you moron."(And cue the door slam in face)-me (I will then promptly feel guilty and remain that way for all eternity)

7. People who take there kids to starbucks like it is some sort of caffeinated playground. (the one in the village is particularly bad.) I am fairly sure that starbucks is more annoyed than I will ever be. They got a sign that says "unattended children will receive an espresso and a free puppy." That would be a new pet peeve, Starbucks filled with children hopped up on espresso smack-petting puppies (you know the way kids pet dogs, it is more of a soft punch than anything else.)

6.Anything by Daniel Bedingfield.

5.People who ride their bikes down busy streets during rush hour.

-What is the matter with these people? Are they going 45 miles per hour? No! They are typically barely moving at all. What is wrong with I don't know 4:00 or 7:00? AND FOR GOODNESS SAKE, WHY CAN'T I REMOVE THE LINE IN BETWEEN MY POINT AND MY COMMENT!!!

I am pulling the really annoying thing I like to call the "Full House" move. (Used more as a ploy to retain the people who tuned in to watch one show, but got sucked in by the amazing musical interludes or possibly Kimmy Gibler.)

To Be Continued...

(What a cliff hanger)

I would like one BURNING RING OF FIRE please.

I am accident prone. In a matter of 3 days I burned my arm in the oven, burned my stomach on the stovetop (profanity warning,) sliced the crap out of both of my hands when the knife part of the apple corer came out of the plastic and lodged itself into my hands (obviously profanity was used,) danced into a coffee table, and shut my finger into the bathroom door. I am lucky to be alive!

Walk the Line is every bit as good as everyone has said. Probably the best movie I have seen in at least a year. I think I fell in love with Joaquin Phoenix. There were two points in the movie where he was singing and gave this look to the camera, wow, my stomach turned, and cue the swoon. When an actor can evoke an emotion that very very rarely occurs in real life he is in the right profession. It was so well made. I can't do any justice to it, you just need to go see it. I think I am going again next Saturday if anyone would like to join me. My favorite line was when a drunken Johnny walks up to June's house and says he was on a "love walk, the June Carter love walk." Forget saying "I am bewitched by you" (a line from pride and prejudice my roommates LOVED, that I...well let's just say I less than loved) hit me with the humor any day, even if you are drunk. Well maybe don't do it drunk, that would probably piss me off.

The parting note: Yesterday I had Thanksgiving with my dad's side of the family. I will just do a run of the highlights.

- my mom marching down the driveway like Maria in the Sound of Music. She is by far the cutest woman alive.

- my dad falling asleep on my shoulder and mumbling something about my friends committing federal offenses.

and finally

-my drunk aunt helping my sister write her psychology paper on healthy and unhealthy ways to deal with stress. A couple to note: drinking, sex (under both categories), and cutting yourself. At one point homicide was on the healthy side, healthy for me not for others...

Won't you join me in prayer for my future husband. May he have a wicked sense of humor, and as much grace as Jesus himself.

I am going to start using the word FANCY a lot more

Rant #1:

I typically hate any movie that features women in corsets, who always look sweaty, and men who tie ribbons in their hair. Pride and Prejudice fufills all three of those requirements, but I actually liked it! Throughout the entire movie a couple of things kept going through my head.
A. "Shut UP!" whenever the mom was talking.
B." I want to knock that girl out." Whenever one of the giggling younger sisters was on the
screen.
C. And finally "Ughuh!!! SEXUAL POLITICS!!!" It was driving me nuts, in the way only good sexual tension can. (Brings to mind a scene in Reality Bites where Troy states "If I could bottle the sexual tension between Bonnie Franklin and Shnyder,I could solve the energy crisis." If you haven't seen that movie, do yourself a favor and rent it.) The entire movie I wanted to intervene and make Mr. Darcy and Lizzy sit down so they could and sort out their many issues. But is that what happened? NO. Why? Because I am not Jane Austin, that's why. I guess that would have been a pretty lame story, but what kind of man rides a horse to a woman's house to say " I have a letter" (all britishy so therefore hot) and then disappears into the night. I guess having all the miscommunication is much more realistic than everything going perfectly, and that is the source of my tension. I hate miscommunication. I will say I want to start using more british words. If you catch me saying things like " I Fancy that one!" don't be surprised. Join in my bloody party. Ehhh, so maybe I should work on integrating one word at a time.



Rant #2:

We got beanie babies at work today. They are dogs with t-shirts on (one of my biggest pet peeves...animals with clothing on. WHY?WHY, do humans do this. They are animals stop treating them as if that were not the case. NO your dog isn't anymore cute dressed as a fireman, snowman, or Freddie Krueger. In fact I like it less because you dressed it up.) Anyway I now am the proud owner of a beanie baby dog with a t-shirt that reads PAWS. I really thought my entry into pet ownership would be a much more exciting event. Sad day. (I like how I completely avoided any mention of why we got beanie babies. I guess because I don't really understand. A very inappropriate name is in the works.)

I may just post a list of my pet peeves next week, that way you all can avoid irritating me.

They would work better with those little rubber things on the bottom.

I am truly beginning to wonder if there were awards for most likely to fall for no reason if I wouldn't win. I know Amy would give me some competition, but I am sorry lady, I think I have you beat. Let me set the stage for the fiasco that leaves me bruised both emotionally and physically (well not really physically.) We had bible study at our house this week. I should preface all of this by saying we have hard wood floors, and in my defense I was wearing socks with the least amount of traction imaginable, anti-traction if you will. ( I know what some of the more smart ass-ish people are thinking. Do socks have traction? Is ass-ish a word? Some do. It is now. Now stop being so dang critical so that I can get on with the story.) I was attempting to get to the kitchen when I had a sudden collision with the floor. Tried to catch myself, but it was an utterly futile attempt. If you have seen "Along Came Polly" and remember the scene at the very beginning where the best man is walking across the dance floor and with no warning smacks into the ground you are getting a visual. I, in true Tiffany fashion, begin rolling on the floor laughing hysterically to the point of tears. Everyone looks immediately, but only chuckle out of pity for the poor, and perhaps not completely mentally competent, pile of person on the ground that can't seem to even get the concept of walking down. Unfortunately it takes an unbelievable amount to make me bruise. ( Don't get any ideas. I have a right hook comparable to hmmmm...someone with a deadly right hook.) There is no bruise, just a story that probably only I find funny. You read this far though so you must have been at least somewhat amused.

An Affair to Remember

My favorite season of the year is slowly coming to a close. Am I sad? Kind of. Did I let it go without some sort of major PDA for the departing crisp weather and beautiful leaves? Hell NO! I broke out the wife beater and the leaf blower and had a massacre in our front yard. I am sure a lot of the neighbors were questioning our land lords discretion when they came outside and heard Black Eyed Peas blaring from our porch and me running around the front yard with a leaf blower in a wife beater and enormous sunglasses (eye protection people, plus the added bonus of being the most glamorous leaf blower on the block.) In all fairness the guy across the street insists on running in those 70's running shorts that make you want to turn away, but instead you stare in shock. I think I deserve one day to frolic and also I don't care what they think. A DTR may be in order, my yard may actually be under the impression we are going to have more interactions of this sort, it's wrong. Well maybe one more, depends on my mood. Aaand I'm on my way to therapy, pronto.

A Serious Note

Have you ever been reminiscing on the past and realize your life is not at all what you thought it was going to be, but that it is better than you ever would have guessed? I have never been one to really have a plan for what I think is going to happen, but it struck me the other day that if someone told me even 3 1/2 months ago that I would be working in insurance I would have laughed at them and probably given them a real good look at my middle finger. Even when I started here I was anticipating the worst. Horribly mean people who are all out to get me, and a job that I loathe with every ounce of my being. I am typically an optimist, but I was so skeptical entering a job in the "real" world. (Which I was told I had never been a part of.) I have learned a vast amount in a month and a half, more than I could even begin to write in a post. Most of which revolves not around insurance ,although I do know a lot about that now, but around the human condition.

Had I remained in my position at the church I am sure I would still love people, but I don't think I would have truly learned to love the way I have here. The people I thought were going to be "hard," the people I thought would make my life miserable, those people were no where to be found. It has convicted me like few things in my life have. I have been given the great privilege to see into their lives, lives plagued by infidelity, heartache, depression, the list could go on and on. At one point, although I would have never said it out loud, I think I saw compassion as nothing more than pity. I know now that unless I want to get on my knees with the hope of getting others on their feet, I am in it for the wrong reason. If I am not willing to put them before myself how are they ever going to see that Christ truly can permeate a person's being. If I am so selfish that I can't go out of my way to help people in need, even if all they need a cup of coffee or someone to talk to, than I have surrendered before the fight has begun. God has put me here, I know it, I feel it in the depth of my being. I am humbled everyday by the kindness shown to me, by people who have no reason to be kind other than "it's the right thing to do." I am convinced that at the root of who we are, very few of us (by us I mean humans) actually want to be mean and conniving. People are longing for generosity, kindness, and most importantly love. They are longing for something to pull them out of the mundane, out of the emptiness that they have found themselves in. Christ is not mundane, and He is certainly not empty. He is longing to be found by those who do not know Him, and we are His vessels.

I know this doesn't run with the usual tone of my blogs, but it has been on my mind a lot lately so I felt compelled to share.

Education at its Finest

I learned a lot this weekend, most of it useless information, but still good for a few laughs.

-If in fact I do get my own bounty hunting/ninja show Bon Jovi will definitely be on the soundtrack. Nothing says I am going to hunt you down and arrest you like "Shot through the heart and your to blame." I am however going to have to get over my fear of actually being shot through the heart...and fish.

These pictures surfaced, making it even more likely that I will get my own show. I look psychotic.

Watch out anyone in line for the bathroom, Tiffany's here and she has a spastic bladder. That's a messy situation.









These boys don't know it yet but I am about to do the splits in the air and put them in a lot of pain. Sorry guys.

Why is Michael smiling? He is about to get kicked in the crotch, that'll make him stop! Tommy...what are you doing?








- I don't really like strangers

- There is such a thing as a taxidermied horse. Frightening.

- I can be OCD when I clean. O wait I already knew that.

- I like the smell of tobacco flower. A lot.

- If I dry my comforter in the dryer it will get things that look like pee spots all over it, but is actually where the dryer began to burn through the fabric. Information that would have been good to know BEFORE I dried it. Thank you Kohl's. (Lisa I am blaming this on you.)

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph we have a PROBLEM!!!

Last night was no ordinary night, o no my friends, it was trading spouses night on fox. I am not usually drawn to that sort of thing. Usually it goes like this: Two people with different lives switch places, everyone realizes they like things there own way. Like I needed a TV show to tell me that. I already know I like my life better than someone who lives on a farm, gets up at 2 to feed the cows, and has no indoor plumbing. Why anyone would ever sign up for something like that is beyond me. If people don't realize that the producers are going to hook them up with a lifestyle completely opposite of the one they are used to, than they deserve to be at a freaking solstice party throwing incense into a fire and dry heaving. It is always their aim to make people look as nuts as they can. Spend 4 hours watching tv while braiding a child's hair and donating lots of money to a good cause, and then go on a screaming rampage and throw a kid across the room. I don't care if the kid suddenly became rabid and tore a piece of the flesh off of your arm which caused you to hurl the lovable little craphead into the wall. You threw a child, and that is UNFORGIVABLE!!!(Resounding gong)

Last night was the "Jerry Springer of wife swaps"(shalinn's words not mine.)

One family...excuse me, woman was a "Fiercly religious," psycho Christian (Marguerite.) A lethal combination in the fight against spreading Christianity anywhere FOX is shown. A very vocal woman who was exorcising every space and person she was around. The woman freaked out when she saw a star covered in Christmas lights, and dry heaved when the dryer started making a weird noise. Her best quotes: "I feel uneasiness around here." and"Get out of my F%$^ING house in Jesus name I pray." Pretty sure He was honored.

The other family was very "spiritual." Jeanne was a hypnotherapist, and hosted a radio talk show about love and relationships. She tried to hypnotize one of the daughters of the family she was staying with. ( It should be noted that when she does hypnosis it is done with a microphone from across the room. Making it all the more weird.)The girl ended up taking a "very relaxing nap." Jeanne's best quote/action: "I will count to 5 and you will wake up"...When 5 was reached the girl had done none of the 5 steps and was clearly sleeping so Jeanne took the microphone and held it up to the speaker to create a lovely feedback that woke the girl right out of her hypnotic slumber... I did feel bad for this lady she was pretty much verbally beat to death by Margarita's friends, who happened to be of the same breed as our dear sister . Has to be a terrier mix, very territorial and yippy. My favorite kind.


Lucky for everyone who missed it there will be another episode on next week with the same families. Let me just say it looks even more explosive. Go here and watch the video if you can. I will warn you. You may appreciate your parents more after you watch it.

An instance of OVERSHARE

A conversation had while working the phones today...

"Thank you for calling.....direct your call?" (middle part unimportant and boring)

"Hello sunshine!How are you?" (Said like a chipmunk on uppers.)

"Great, and yourself?"

"Are you smiling?"

"Not really, but you are making me laugh so kind of I guess."

"You know when I smile a lot it's usually because I have gas."

"Huh, ya know that may be more information than I needed."

Snippets

Apparently yelling "PICK UP THE PHONE" over intercom is not the best way to address people at work. Thankfully it was not me that made this fatal error.

Has anyone else noticed that KC has been smelling rather foul lately? I can't get away from the smell of hair salon perms. I know what you are all thinking, and no I didn't forget to shower/eat a lot of spicy food/get a perm last night. It smells here.

"Fun Size candy bars are getting smaller....it looks like something my dog squeezed out."

The Secret Lives of Hamsters

It has been requested that I recount the tragic hamster murder of 1991, that was not made public knowledge, and by "made public" I mean was kept a secret, until just a couple months ago....

I got a hamster when I was in the second grade. I hated it. I never played with it, I never cleaned out its cage. We kept it on the fridge so that we could forget that it was alive as much as possible. I know animal rights activists everywhere are duct taping their poster board to sticks so they can go picket my house as I type. Try to make me feel bad. Good luck. Anyway, tinkerbell slowly developed a cancer sore on her face. It was freaking sick. My dad and one of his friends thought it would be fun to have a little animal planet moment and perform surgery on my hamster. (I should tell you all that my dad is neither trained nor licensed in any form of medicine, animal or otherwise.) Long story short my hamster bled to death. I cried for like two days. I don't know why. That is what little girls do I guess. Pretend we don't like something until it's dead, and then create a whole scenario about how I was the only thing we lived for.

There it is. Hope my pain and agony made your day a little brighter.

Quote of the week...for your enjoyment...

"I liked Elizabethtown better when it starred Zach Braff and was called Garden State." Well done Doug, well done.

Tiffy the deer slayer

It was about two years ago that I was driving down a two lane highway and rammed what was still a cute car into a deer. My driving skills have been criticized by many. Even taking one person, who shall remain nameless ...(jenny,) to the point of saying " I like riding with you. I feel closer to Jesus." Okay that might not be verbatim, but it is the gist. I assure you this particular collision was the suicidal deer's fault, not my own. It was hit by a truck fell into the ditch and then when it saw my car got back up and crossed the street just in enough time to jack up my hood, fender, back passenger side door (it flung it's legs into the car, I am guessing not on purpose), and make my left headlight completely useless. Hold on the story is about to get really good. So I call my dad who is at my uncles house about 15 minutes away. I call the cops. In the meantime the driver of the truck who hit the deer first walks up to my car. Remember, dark, 2 lane highway at night. I am the most paranoid CSI, Rescue 911, Unsolved Mysteries watching freak. I assume this man is going take me for all that I am worth (which at that time was about 300 CDs) and leave me cold, wet, and sliced into a million pieces. He doesn't. He does tell me his friend lives a couple blocks away if I want to come over. I decline. I know what happens to girls who go over to stranger's houses. They die, they always die...Man I watch way to much CSI. The cop shows up and I am riding around in the back of a cop car looking for the deer when my dad and uncle show up in a very large truck with the license tag DRSLYR...(deer slayer.) They get out of the truck. My uncle is in those pants made out of plastic that come up to your arm pits and are held up by suspenders. He is holding a mag light and promptly frolics into the ditch like a leprechaun on no-doz trying to find my "catch." My dad wants me to let him in the cop car with me. I can't there are no handles on the inside. I am pretty sure the cop is completely taken off guard by the people who came to get me. My dad starts chatting him up about guns and the "proper way to shoot a deer" (One of my dad's classic stories is when he hit a deer and the officer tried to shoot it, but shot it right between the eyes. Instead of killing it he just pissed it off and the deer attacked him....different story for another time.) I am sitting there with my head out the back window listening to this banter when really I wanted to go home. Suddenly my uncle starts yelling...he'd found my "catch." I got it right in the butt so it was useless to him. I finally got to get in my car and drive home after what turned out to be a very eventful drive to the middle of nowhere.

Exploding TV Remotes

My name is Domino Harvey and I am a bounty hunter.

My roommate Erin and I are notorious for going to absolutely horrible movies together. On at least 3 or 4 occasions we have found ourselves in a movie theater laughing hysterically because whatever is on the screen is simply ridiculous. Last night's extravaganza "Domino" proved to have many pee your pants moments (that weren't meant to be funny.)

Exhibit A: It took me 15 minutes to get used to the idea that Kiera Knightley was a bounty hunter. There is no way I could hunt for bounty in pants that left about an inch and a half of my butt crack hanging out, she did it though, well done Kiera.

Exhibit B: Anytime they were driving anywhere, doing pretty much anything that wasn't talking a song came on that was basically mumbley rap until they got to the chorus which was simply "Motherf-er" yelled really really loudly.

Exhibit C: The incredibly awkward lap dances, strippers, and sex scene in the desert after they had been drugged and survived a really bad Winnebago accident. Yeah that's right Winnebago accident.

Exhibit D: Brian Austin Green and Ian Ziering were a part of the cast. Still can't figure this one out.

After all of that it was still entertaining. Although I told some people I would practice my karate kicks in the aisle, some guy sat next to me at the last minute and ruined my whole plan to make Domino interactive. I think Erin bribed him to sit there so I couldn't get out. A plague on your house. Crap, no plague, strike the plague, that's my house too. Strike it, we've worked with Corky before.

The higher notes:

It did give me the inclination to walk in slow motion with bullets strapped around my torso.

You will never hear me say "My name is Tiffany Matalone and I am a bounty hunter." At least not for real. I have been turned off by that profession.

It was free.

Voices in my head

Random thoughts of the day....

- Why do I think some people look British? I never think hey, that guy looks Polish...

- Why do people train their children to say things like He/she beeped, bonked, fluffed, and my all time favorite bunnied when someone farts?
-Why did my dad fart in our tent and then shut me and my cousins in
it? Man, fudgesicles lost there appeal that night.


- Why would you pay money for Accidental Death insurance if you have life insurance? You're dead who cares if it was an accident.

- Why does work feel like camp today? could it be the peeper that keeps looking over the top of my cube and making farting noises?

- Beverly Hills. Why would anyone want to being there?

-I think I am channeling my alter ego 60's Tiffany. This is the last time I am going to do my hair like this. Scary.

-Why do the lines in the parking lot have to be yellow?

-The bathroom here smells like my pre-school. weird.

-Why do I always assume when something goes missing it has been stolen? When will I understand no one wants to take one of my socks out of the laundry and bring it home with them?

-I really think I would be good at karate, kung fu some form of asian fighting. hi-yah. I want to be a spy. A karate-ing spy.

-I hate drug tiers.

Proof that I do have an inner monologue

C'mon get happy!

Thank you Shalinn for tipping me off to this website. Sorry to the eternal optimists out there, this is going to be a debby downer blog today.



It could be that the purpose of your life is to serve as a warning to others.



When the winds of change blow hard enough, the most trivial of things can turn into deadly projectiles.

Despair.com. Go. See. Laugh so hard a little pee comes out.

How do you spell awkward?

D-A-D-S-F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

My dad called Saturday to invite me to a dinner he was making. I, not being a fool, said yes. (My dad is an amazing cook, this specific dinner was gourmet Italian, it was friggin awesome.) He invited all of the friends over that helped with my parents house a year and a half ago. (Maybe not the best about being timely with thank you dinners.) I especially appreciated the guy I know he invited over because he wants us to date. I know this because anytime I come home he mentions this guy, and how he should build me a website. In my dad's language that means, "you better up and marry this one little lady.You ain't gettin' any younger." Well subtract the hickness of that sentence, keep the basic principle.I stayed upstairs most of the night as to avoid the strange man that was acting like an eight year old, and randomly told me his aunt lives in Hoboken.(No idea if that is spelled right.) Apparently it is really cool if anyone wants to visit I know a guy. Dinner continued the perpetual freak show that is my life when my dad's best friend wouldn't stop telling me and everyone else there how good I looked. (For those of you who don't know me well I get really awkward and usually will turn a not so flattering shade of purple when people talk about how "good I look.") Everyone starts staring and saying very monotone "oh yeah, so pretty...blah blah blah" (It sounded very pre-recorded. Like it was playing from the stereo and they were all just moving their lips. Out of body experience for sure.)All of the sudden I am the new animal at the zoo that was forced into a cage and carted off to some new fake habitat so all the natives of the area can see the Japanese pigeon and ohh and awww at its odd colored feathers. I turn red, bury my head in the table cloth, and my eyes begin to well up with tears. I know it sounds crazy. I just don't deal with that kind of attention well. Obviously. I felt like a 13 year old all over again. Awkward, not knowing how to handle all the changes going on in my body, voice cracking. Okay so I guess just the first one. My dad kept winking at me, his friend kept hugging me (very uncle geoffry from Bridget Jones' Diary). At least I am loved, and apparently look good to men twice my age. What else is new...

After months of using the outdoors as my workout facility, I have graced the gym with my presence. After getting sufficiently pissed that 24 hour fitness is going to make me pay $80 to transfer to a smaller less equipped gym, as well as not allowing me to get the $25 a month fee, I went and EFX-ed off my rage. Pretty sure the guy "helping" me didn't know how to deal with a blunt woman. I told him what I was wanting (to start going to the new gym because it is closer to my house)and he kept showing me a $900 package. I understand he's a salesman, but when I tell you exactly what I want, not to mention I already paid an enrollment fee why would you continually harass me. I don't like to work out that much anyway. All I want is to be able to go to this gym not the other one! I will continue going to my old location. Which brings me to my next point, well not really, but here is my next point anyway. I hate inner thigh work out machines for two reasons.

A. In between reps you have to either lift your legs over the pad thingies or sit there with your knees 3 feet apart for 20 seconds. I choose to sit there and look as comfortable as possible in one of the most unflattering positions a person can do in a public.

B. My legs hurt real bad today. I feel like I was in a bull riding contest yesterday. The bull won. The reason I hate horses is the pain I am feeling today. Why do I do this to myself?

It's cool to pee your pants

My cooking has been redeemed!!! Last night I apprehensively made my way back into the kitchen. After last weeks shake n' bake incident, I had no plans of shakin or bakin anytime soon, but around 2:00 I really was wanting pumpkin bread. So I mustered up some courage and pulled out my kitchen aid. I have to say it was pretty dang good. It would have been better if I would have known 1 serving meant 2 loaves so I didn't double it, but at least I didn't get sick and have a cake and 2 loaves of bread I couldn't feed anyone.

Here it is the moment of the week, which happened only one week ago...

Now I am not really one to have celebrity crushes. I never had dreams that Kirk Cameron showed up at my 13th birthday party and started making out with me or anything. But o my word I love Orlando Bloom! (I have yet to have a dream that he shows up at my 13th birthday party either, maybe my 24th, but definitely not 13th.) Perhaps his intrigue is the fact that most of his roles involve sword fighting, and real bloody manly stuff. That sounds like I am British. Do over...real manly bloody stuff. Nothing quite like a man in chainmail. I don't really know what that means. Anyway, I have been on Elizabethtown countdown for awhile now, and you better believe I was there last Friday night. Shalinn and I had stopped at Chipotle to get some food and drink to bring along. After racing across the street to the movie theater I stopped to go to the bathroom, shocking I know. I was walking out of the bathroom when my very full cup slipped out of my hand popping the lid off. I tried to catch it with my crotch. Why I thought my crotch would catch it better than my other hand I have no idea, but I caught it alright. Half of my diet coke was in the crotch/upper thigh region of my pants. I was all by my self, laughing hysterically, and looking like a freaking mental institution escapee who somehow managed to prove science wrong by being a somewhat functional human being. ( Just imagine yourself at a movie theater. You round a corner and see a young woman by herself laughing at what appears to be nothing to the point of crying. She also seems to have lost all bladder control and wet herself. Now you have the visual of anyone who was lucky enough to be roaming around AMC 30 last Friday got to see.) Still enjoyed the movie, with the exception of the 20 minute eulogy. Cameron Crowe knows his music though Ryan Adams was in there a lot.

Was that a raindrop or drool, I will never tell

Does anyone pity the fool who likes listening to really depressing music on a rainy day? Well pity away, because it is a wonderful day for some depressing music. I couldn't be more happy to put in some emo and drive away from work a satisfied lady. Praise the Lord for rain and music.

I just drooled on myself. Not just a little bit, a lot. Were talking looks like I fell asleep on my chair for 2 hours pool here. (This has nothing to do with the aforementioned rain, music, or satisfaction.) How a mass amount of spit escaped my mouth, and entered the world at record speed I don't know. Luckily I was the only one who saw.

I better stop posting stuff like that or I am going to end up single and the proud owner of a herd of alley cats that I rescued in my spare time. Or attract men who like slobbery, smelly, clumsy, and totally fabulous women whose families are slightly less than normal. I won't be worried until I start talking to cats like they are humans, or start meowing like I am one of them. I don't know which comes first in that particular downward spiral. The good news is if I do let my life go down the tubes in E True Hollywood story style I already have an action figure to go with the plan. I had never intended on saying "my life is total crap, but at least I have my own action figure," but I also never thought that I would poison myself with my own food. What can I say life is completely unpredictable.

The Incoherent Babble of a Worn Out Woman

I am back and ready for action, and by action I mean sleep. I don't understand how people actually live in New York City. I think my limbs are going to fall off which would actually be okay with me right now because my desk is lacking a pillow and if I could just lay my head on my leg it would be wonderful.

I really thought I would come back with tales of me doing something absolutely ludicrous and getting myself into a situation that no one ever really believes, but nods and smiles so as not to awake the sleeping beast.(me.) Fear not the sleeping beast! I think I actually learned to keep my mouth shut. (I'll wait a second to let the shock wear off.) We stayed in Spanish Harlem, so we were pretty much the only white people in sight. Amidst the "Hey baby's," and the " you like to party!, YOU LIKE TO PARTY!" (apparently we looked like the the types that stripped off our sweaters to reveal sequined tube tops, and traded our flip flops for 5 inch stilettos. Or we looked hungover. ) I didn't make one remark, not one. Didn't even try to swing at them with my now useless arm. Slightly different atmosphere I guess. Not as worried about someone knifing me to death (fully aware "knifing me to death" is my own creation, not actual street terminology for stabbing) at the McDonald's on Antioch as I am a block and a half away from some of the freakin most dangerous low income housing in the country. Nonetheless, I think I may have made a huge step in not verbally assaulting those who objectify me and my friends. Well done brain to mouth interaction, nice to see you working for once in my life.

Lesson learned: Gang life isn't for me. It took so much energy not to lunge at or even give the evil eye to someone making completely inappropriate comments I will be tired for weeks. It is good to see that I am really making no progress in the grace category. Maybe gang life is for me. " Look at me like that again and I'll cut you." Yep, Sounds like me.

While in Chinatown I took to my usual bargaining strategies. (Spare me the lecture on how these people are poor and they need all the money I can give them because I am a rich legal citizen. I saw how many freaking bags they sold for about $35 each. Plus, I think they enjoy the bargaining just as much as I do.) I walk into one shop and ask how much a certain perfume was. "$35" the man said. It was the end of the day and I had $20 left. That's it $20. I am sure everyone reading this understands that I had how many dollars? That's right, $20. How many times did that take you to understand? Probably once, maybe twice if you are half asleep dreaming you were sleeping on one of your removed legs...oh wait you probably aren't as demented as I am. I start to walk away and tell him I only have $20. (I knew there was no way he would come down $15 in the price, I am good, I'm not that good.)
He says "for you $30"
I say "I only have $20."
He says "big bottle, $30."
I look at him with a "you have got to be kidding me" look and again say " I really only have $20"
he says " big bottle."
"Seriously man, $20. That's all I have."
I walk away. The screams of $30 and big bottle followed me as I left, and still haunt me 24 hours later.

Lesson learned: Walk away when the vendor says far over the price you are willing or able to pay, otherwise you are stuck in a conversation with a man whose knowledge of the English language is apparently limited to 35, 30, dollars, for you, big, and bottle. Oh the magnetic poetry that could be made with those glorious words. Wait "big for you bottle dollars 30" isn't good, or funny which is the whole point of magnetic poetry.

Anthrax, Sars, and Shake and Bake.

In a world where diseases are spreading faster than poofy-haired, middle-aged women can get to a George Strait concert, it wasn't Sars or that Chicken Flu Erin keeps talking about that left me completely incapacitated last night...it was my cooking.(earsplitting scream)Oh the horror. I decided I would finally make the shake and bake that I bought about 2 months ago (the packet, not the chicken), and it came back to haunt me. It was the kind of sick that makes you debate what end to put over the toilet, and pray that it comes out your mouth first. Di-freakin'-gusting, and painful. Sorry to those of you who have eaten food I have made, and been left sick, stranded, and hopefully near a toilet. I have tasted my own medicine, and it is bitter.

Moving on from the o-so-lovely world of intestinal issues and bowel movements.

I don't have anything that is horrendously embarrassing to report today all I can think of are snipets of moments that I to this day try to suppress Like:

*The time my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to model a bikini in front of their friends. I was 12 and I was mortified. Don't worry I looked awesome, I mean come on a twelve year old girl who hasn't hit puberty and still looks like she is 8. Why not flaunt my under developed body to the masses? Needless to say the bikini went back the next day. 4 years later they couldn't get me to put enough clothes on."You shouldn't even be wearing that in the house let alone in front of teenage boys." "But Mom it's zebra stripes!" " It also is made of about 3 inches of fabric." How I ever thought reiterating the very obvious fact that it was zebra stripes would convince her to let me wear a very little swimsuit is beyond me.

*Any picture of me between the ages of 12 and 18 well really 19.

* The time when I kept crashing my airplane on this program in technology class in 7th grade ( I know it sounds totally lame, but it was actually cool) and the really cute teacher told me it was because I never put down my landing gear. Duh.

* The fact that I have a tendency to walk into glass more often than I would like to admit. Did it last weekend. Did it once at Sears. I don't know why I think I live in a world without doors. Sometimes I stop paying attention, and apparently you'll know when that happens because I will walk straight into sheets of glass. Hang around me enough and I am bound to fall, trip, run into something, often with nothing to cause it.

*The time I was in a seemingly empty grocery store with a very loud man who has no shame and he thought it would be funny to ask very loudly where the condoms were in his most "I grew up in the backwoods, and have never used indoor plumbing before" voice.(We were in the frozen foods aisle at the time, so clearly we weren't actually looking for that.) At that moment an old couple rounded the corner and gave us the most disgusted look. He of course thought it was hilarious, I wanted to climb into the lobster tank.

Final Note:
I answered my phone last night to a fat albert impression by my mom. I think she had too many glasses of coffee or something. I mean don't get me wrong my mamma's a funny lady, but she has never been one to do impressions, dance strangely yes, but impressions, not so much. Lucky for me she had just seen fat albert and couldn't stop saying "hey hey hey" last night. Well done mom I support any more impressions you want to do, keeps me on my toes.

Things that make you say "What?"

Alright so another tale from the bizarro world that I call my own. I was looking for a packing list online that would suit my needs for this weekends jaunt to New York. I am mildly impaired when it comes to packing. I always forget things that are necessity aka shampoo, deodorant, shoes (okay not shoes.) I opt to pack the latter as opposed to the former for days where I want to do my best Mary Kate Olsen impression. If I show up looking like this, Keeley I give you permission to shoot me and make it look like an accident. The odd part of this story isn't that I forget shampoo, it is some of the items that showed up on the list of things I should pack. (Mind you I specified weather, location, and form of travel [air] etc.)
1. Sarong...70 degrees and under, where am I wearing a sarong to?
2. Palestinian scarf...what?
3. Morning gown, I don't even know what that is.
4. small box, again what?
5. Mosquito net...is something going on in New York that I don't know about?
6. Pepper Spray Canister, on vacation? Seriously?
7. Two way radios...breaker breaker 136 there is a bandit list writer on the loose.
Maybe by airplane they thought I meant 18-wheeler.
8. rubber door stop...good maybe I will finally be able to keep all those doors open
9. timestables, just in case I begin thinking 2 x 2 = 392. Right, okay I get this
one. timestables, check.

A side note, they also said I should memorize all my credit card #'s, and find hospitals in the area that take my insurance.

Okay admit it whose grandma wrote this list? Honestly. Sarah is that British grandma of yours telling me a morning gown, and
a small box are necessary? She's really lost it this time.

It's just you and me and a lot of sucky music

I have been very disappointed in the lack of good music that has been coming out lately. I have actually resorted to listening to the radio, something that I have never really done. If I have to sit through that damn lifehouse song again I fear I may cause harm to anyone who happens to be around me. I get it. It's you, It's me, some people, nothing to do, nothing to prove. Sounds to me like you're bored, maybe you should find some music that hasn't been on the radio every eight minutes for the last 3 weeks. Geeez. I thought I may have a new obsession on the horizon when Ryan Adams new CD came out a couple of weeks ago, sadly I was very wrong. I absolutely love Ryan, drug habit and all, however I cannot sit through another twangy minute of that CD. By far my least favorite of all of dear Ryan's stuff. (Totally understand I could lose mass quantities of credibility from my Adams loving friends. Sorry, I like what I like.)Luckily, he has one more album coming out this year, and his previous release Cold Roses is still in pretty heavy rotation for me, love it. Let's pray he hasn't gone twangy old country for good. Until then the coral, aqualung, and spoon are going to have to do it for me. O yea and lifehouse*.

*I actually like some lifehouse. I do not like radio stations and their tendency to put the repeat button on songs until they are so far past the point of bearable I am glad it is against the law to carry firearms in your car.

If anyone has any suggestions to get me out of my rut, I would welcome anything new and of the non suck variety.

Home is where the weird is...

This weekend was probably one of the most quotable weekends of my existence. It was awesome!

Friday night I had the privilege of being part of the Mclain's street team for their new shoe store downtown. Sarah and I began the evening by walking around passing out fliers. We are approaching a couple and instead of explaining what we were doing Sarah simply states "I've got Fliers!" They looked sufficiently confused, but took the flier so mission accomplished. I think I laughed for 10 minutes straight. At the end of the gut wrenching laughter we came upon some young women who tell us they will take our fliers if we take theirs. (In my experience the you do this and I will do this scenario rarely works to my advantage, but I took my chances.) I don't have the exact flier but this lovely photo should give you an idea of what our eyes got to behold that fateful evening.?
Can't even begin to explain. Not even going to try. Finally, we were walking down the street and we hear a voice from above. No, it wasn't the audible voice of God. It was a very flamboyant man proclaiming through a speaker he had rigged up on the street that the "Mommy, baby, doggy fashion show would commence in 5 minutes." We obviously chose to stay. Really not much to see, lots of chaos in a small
space, dogs doing what comes naturally. Totally inappropriate, also totally funny.


The next morning I arose and went to visit the fam in the great city of Topeka. It has become increasingly apparent to me that everytime I go home to visit my family I come back with some story that is guaranteed to make people say "What the hell?" and is followed by uproarious laughter. (Not quite sure if they are getting weirder or the prolonged time away from T-town has actually made me more normal.) Most if not all involve one of two people. My dad, or my sister Courtney. I had been home for a couple hours when my dad comes in and asks me to move my car because he can't get the tractor out of the garage. This elicits my response of "Huh?" My parents live in suburban Topeka, not rural Alabama. What in the world do they need a tractor for? In my mind that is still yet to be determined. I do know for the remainder of the time I was at home he was driving his glorified lawnmower around the yard. In his defense he has a very green, healthy looking lawn, which I do not. Maybe I need to invest in a tractor. Hmmmm...maybe not. John "the notoriously notorious" Matalone strikes again. Look for stories including "My Murdered Hamster", "Doin' the bump with Harry", "XXXL Rapper sweatshirts," "Illegal Fireworks, beer, and the cops...3 things that maybe don't mix" and "South Dakota is big (edited) country." (I didn't want to put cock in my blog) Things this good can't be made up, they have to be lived, unfortunately by me...well maybe fortunately. I do like a good story.

One final quote for ya'

In what was obviously a momentary lapse of judgment I asked the question
"Do the 49er's still exist?" The large amounts of laughter and no answer was all the response I needed to know that yes the do indeed still exist, and No, I am not really an NFL fan. Hey I never claimed to be...did I?

Grace

Ah yes, it is the most glorious freaking cold day ever! Let's talk about things that are awesome.
1. Getting lunch catered in
2. Getting done with a week long project.
3. The office buying massages for everyone who works there.
4. Weekend in 3 1/2 hours.
5. Vacation in 1 week.

I am currently doing a dance in my cube. Hair tossing and all.

I suppose I owe what I have promised, another quality embarrassing moment from the vault of millions.

Moment # 3

Last fall we went to Argosy casino for MAP. I know what you are thinking, " Hey, I supported her last year, and she went to casinos under the guise of MAP." My response is "Yep, thanks for helping me out with my habit." Just Kidding.

We decided it would be fun to video tape some of the things we did for MAP. Somehow I was given control of a video camera. (Don't ask me how, balancing while attempting to tie my shoe is a hard enough thing for me to do. Giving me a video camera and asking me to talk, walk, or be my normal witty self is utterly pointless.) I was filming as we were pulling up to the casino and for some reason thought I needed to film as I was getting out of the bus. I don't even make it down one step before literally falling face first out of the bus onto the blacktop. No clue how I didn't break anything, I probably faceplanted from about 4 feet up, a belly flop onto cement if you will. If the utter humiliation of doing that in front of about 20 people + any innocent bystanders wasn't enough it was deemed worthy for the MAP supporter luncheon video. So a whole new slew of people got to see the camera as it went crashing onto the ground.

Well done tiff, well done.

*WARNING* CONTENTS IS DISTURBING!!!

My assumption is that I am fast approaching a day when I will not have hours to spend on my computer writing blogs, but will actually have work to do. Until that day, I am here to entertain the masses. In the works for today, a list of things that will make me laugh when no one is around.

1. A man renouncing Satan at a baptism by declaring "I will kick Satan's ass."

2. This picture.It makes me laugh, and cry all at the same time. What is wrong with people? (By people I mean Michael Jackson.)I believe it reads "That Pilates class was Rad! Sarah is so much fun to do pilates with. Michael Jackson: Pilates Guru" (http://www.littlebitofdrivel.blogspot.com/)

3. The image of the girl grinding with her boyfriend using not-so seductive hair tossing methods at the Coldplay concert. Seriously lady...it's coldplay not D'Angelo. Even if it was D'Angelo, I would still be laughing. I don't think I could replicate that move if I wanted to.

Sorry guys that's it for now. Gotta go work. Shock me shock me shock me with that deviant behavior.

Yipee kiya yeah!!!

I have had many broken dreams in my life. Stop Crying, they are funny now.

From a very young age I believed that I was destined to be the next Mariah Carey.( Come on people, HERO that's a moving piece of freaking music.)Then the earthshattering day arrived when I realized not only could I not sing like Mariah Carey, in fact I was lucky if I could sing "Livin' La Vida Loca" with the grace and poise of William Hung. Sorry to all my neighbors who had to sit through my obligatory singing rampages in the middle of my low budg renditions of whatever I thought up in my basement. Which brings me to my next broken dream. I always thought I would be a really good actress. Hence the "low budg renditions of whatever I thought up" that I would make my neighbors be in and charge our parents to come sit through.(You know you love your children, and are a devoted parent when you will pay to sit through some sort of production involving horrible singing, ill-fitting, ugly costumes, and your $100 piece of wood being demolished by the tapping of 10 children under the age of 10. I know I have just described hell for most of you. My parents are saints.) Seriously, I would write, direct, and be the lead in my own productions. I am realizing now that I am lucky to have friends, and also I have been very bossy for...well I think since birth. Anyway, on with the story. I thought it would be great to change personalities for a while! I could be a cowgirl for 2 months, although I would severely question any casting director's judgment that thinks I could get on a horse and look anything but awkward. Maybe a ghetto cowgirl. Leather pants, boots, and me kickin' tail in the inner city. Who wouldn't want to watch that. I could be all sorts of people. I wonder if this is how multiple personalities begin to manifest themselves. Man, it's a tangent sort of day. I realized if acting was in my future (other than in my parents basement) I was going to have to move and be some sort of waitress . So I said to myself, Tiffany, you know what you need to do, insurance. I did it, I do sometimes ride my horse to work though. O wait, I hate horses. They hurt.

Heels, Deals, and Things that Sparkle

I have recently discovered that I am obsessed with 2 things. Shoes and being barefoot. Some sort of psychological help may be in my future. What kind of fool goes out and actually purchases shoes that may or may not be the correct size simply because they are ridiculously cheap/make your feet radiate brilliance like only truly unique shoes can just so they can take them off. I got two thumbs and a girl right here who would. I mean would Dorothy be Dorothy if she was wearing keds. (The answer is obviously yes, however the munchkins might hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. They also might point her in the direction of some putrid colored road that leads her nowhere near the majestic poppies or the land of OZ. I hear munchkins are temperamental.) My problem is in the fact that I am sitting at work right now with adorable shoes sitting under my desk because I would so much rather be barefoot. Sorry to my co-workers. Combining this with last weeks sweater fiasco I fear I may be fast approaching the nickname Tiffany "the smellatron" Matalone. I am one big ironic mess.

Give me control of a PA system, and I will likely us it for evil

As a toast to the end of the week and all its glory I am going to begin every Friday by sharing a very personal list. No, not my fantasy dating draft picks for the 2005-2006 dating season. Although that list is very interesting, and may have a few surprises that ain't it people so stop doing that dance and sit down. It is that time of day when I walk down memory lane and take brief pit stops at the moments in which I was reduced to nothing but a muttering human being with a bright red face. Ah yes it is embarrassing moment time, which apparently is 2:22 pm.

embarrassing moment # 1

I was sitting in a rocking chair in the basement of Christ Church. I should mention that I was wearing a skirt, the story will lose all effect if that isn't known. I was just chatting away when all of the sudden Mike yanks down the back of my chair. I freak out and my legs go a'flailing. Which wouldn't have really been that big of a deal if an unnamed gentleman wouldn't have been sitting directly across from me. Let's just say he got a show. The absolutely mortified expression on his face let me know just how great a show it was. Pretty sure he is scarred for life. You're welcome buddy.

embarrassing moment # 2

In seventh grade everyone was divided up into teams. I was on the tornados. Whooohooo. Mind you I most certainly was still in the "tiffany looks like a male with long puffy red hair stage." (I have pictures if you don't believe me.) I show up to school one day wearing my tornados t-shirt, and white jeans. Oh hell yeah I rocked the white jeans, tapered legs and all. Turns out my math teacher had the same idea for an outfit. The only thing wrong is that my math teacher was male. It may not sound like much now, but for a 7th grade girl to show up dressed like her male math teacher that was the same age as my dad was absolutely mortifying. Now that I think about it I don't know who I am more worried for. Men wearing white jeans definitely outranks women in the "really you want to buy/wear those" department.

I don't think this is bad enough to make an actual embarrassment list, but I did get on the PA system at work a couple hours ago and severely butchered what I was supposed to say. I hope dropping colorful language over the loud speakers isn't grounds for termination. Guess we'll see.

There you have it. A stellar beginning to what can only get worse.

As a parting note I would like to give a shout out to the sis. I found out last night she has officially been banned from ever going to a Motel 6 again. Well done Court, I have been trying to do that for years.

Old clothes and things that smell, one in the same if you are me

All morning I kept smelling this foul stench, and could not for the life of me figure out where it was coming from. Then the moment of truth came, that smell was coming from me. Ughhhhh. I pulled out a sweater this morning from the back of my closet that I haven't worn for a year, and apparently it picked up an odor that can only be described as a mix of thrift store and B.O. What the hell has been going on in the back of my closet? I feel like the kid that no one wants to sit next to at lunch because their parents are to afraid to have a talk with them concerning the benefits of using deodorant. Just a friendly reminder that it is a good idea to wash your clothes from last winter before wearing them again this winter.

What is this strange new world?

As most of you probably know I recently started a new job . I am very confused by the new training I am receiving. I had to go through a tutorial yesterday for 30 minutes on how to use a telephone. Why? No freaking clue. One of the slides was literally instructions on how to hang up a phone. If I can't figure out how to hang up the phone I would be extremely concerned about my job performance in other more complex area's like turning on a computer. It was also made very clear to me about 5 or 6 times that insider trading is not allowed. Man it is like they are inside my head, there goes my plan to obtain lots of money and take over the world. I feel like I am in kindergarten for adults. I really don't know what that means, but that is what it feels like.

Honestly though I have really liked it so far. The people who work here are fabulous! I did have to make some slight adjustments to my cube. In a move that can only be called boldly shocking I covered the grey and navy blue with green and tan fabric. I can't work in an eternally cloudy day. Maybe that should be the direction my business turns, cube decorating.