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.

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.