Monday, February 28, 2011

Snow Tubing!

One thousand layers of clothes.
Leggings, jeggings, stretchy pants, Walmart wind pants, two shirts, a northface, a winter jacket, and faux Uggs. Those were the layers I wore this weekend on our snow tubing trip, in that exact order. Also underwear. And I'm glad I did, because otherwise I would have wound up with a butt full of snow like my sister.

I haven't laughed that hard in YEARS. Watching people slide down the hill and bite it half way down was the highlight of my life.

Here's how it works. First, you get on the tow rope. And by tow rope, I mean giant cable that revolves around with hooks on it that a guy with a neck tattoo hooks you up to. The loop runs around the gear at the bottom of the hill and YANKS you up backwards so you're facing down the mountain on your way up, watching your friends fall on their asses trying to get their own tubes on the tow rope.

So you get up to the top of the hill, and there's a sign that says: UNLOAD HERE. Was I paying attention, while riding up the mountain backwards, enjoying the view? Of course not. So I missed the sign with clear instructions, and promptly hear "MAAM! MAAM! UNLOAD!" In a panic, I spun around in my tube and realized I had passed the sign. Bundled arms and legs flailing, I managed to roll my seven layers of pants out of the tube and plopped face first into the snow. The worker guy kindly retrieved my tube, and I trudged the rest of the way up to the top of the hill to prepare for the descent.

So you snuggle your butt into the hole in the middle of the tube, hand the top worker guy the rope attached to your tube and hold on for dear life as he takes a running start and shoves you down the hill violently. 

I screamed the entire way down.

THEN, we discovered you can link your tubes together and go in a group. Big mistake. Huge. You FLY down the hill, white-knuckle grasping the rope of the people attached to you as tightly as you can, trying not to break free from the pack. The snow flies up in your face so fast that if you try to laugh, you get a mouth full of snow. When we finally skidded to a stop at the bottom, I rolled my layered ass out of that tube and laughed so hard I thought I might throw up.

Four hours (and several pitchers of beer from the lodge) later, we were on our way home with wet socks and an arsenal of hilarious stories.

The awesome tubing hill is to the left.
It was one of the most hilarious and entertaining experiences of my life. And if you've never been, you should TOTALLY do it. Relive your younger days and take the plunge. You'll laugh yourself into a snow coma.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Police Blotter Friday: They're called handcuffs for a reason, idiot.

This amazing small town police blotter blip comes to us all the way from Bozeman, Montana. 

"Police helped a man who accidentally locked a set of handcuffs onto his wrists in South Hedges Hall around 3:40pm. Police removed the cuffs."

Dear sir who accidentally locked a set of handcuffs onto your wrists: what exactly were you doing when this occurred? Were you playing an intense game of 'cops and robbers' with your nine-year-old son when things got really real, really fast? Are you a retired cop who was demonstrating to a first grade class how to put handcuffs on a criminal? Or did you find yourself in a compromising position at a bachelor party after a costumed lady of the night asked you to put your hands behind your back?

Another thing I'd like to ask you, sir, is why this call occurred at 3:40pm. We're talking broad daylight. And even if the bachelor party lasted until the wee hours of the morning, I'm pretty sure you didn't spend 12 hours locked in those handcuffs before you managed to shimmy your way to a telephone so you could phone it in.

What else were you wearing when the police came to unlock you? Because I'm picturing boxer briefs and a pair of dress socks. MAYBE a wifebeater. Maybe.

And lastly, how did you manage to make the call to police? Did your lady friend help you dial the numbers? Did she hold the phone up to your ear while you told police about the embarrassing situation you found yourself in?

Sir, I hope you were released from the confinement of your handcuffs and have continued about your life with a lesson learned: even if they are covered in cheetah-print fur, they still have the capacity to incapacitate you. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.


Happy Friday, babies! Okay, so this post is to elaborate a bit on yesterday's post. See, if you haven't figured it out already, here's the thing about me. Sometimes I get on a ramble and I just GO. K and my sister know this well, since I'll call them and ramble on for 45 minutes before I realize we got disconnected. So, to elaborate...

This year has been filled with a lot of stress for my family and I. My Grandma passed away in August, the same weekend I moved in with K, actually. It was the craziest thing I've ever experienced, and I'm not sure I've completely come to terms with it yet. I still have her number in my cell phone, I just can't bring myself to delete it.

There are a number of other things that have gone on like rapid fire, one after another. You know how that is, right? Something goes wrong, and then the whole card castle comes fluttering down. And I remember thinking to myself a few months ago: really? It was all a bit overwhelming. It still is.

I'll tell you what, though-- it has shown me how incredibly strong K and my sister have been for me. That weekend that I had to go back to the mitten for my Grandma's funeral, K had to move the entire contents of my apartment to the house along with the help of his friend, both of whom I'll be forever grateful to. So while I was with my family in Michigan trying to process that I had lost my only living grandmother, my apartment was being moved. I came home to a new home, and though it was a good transition--it was still a transition. One that I've never been happier that I decided to make.

Yesterday, I watched Eat, Pray, Love. I think that's pretty much all I had to say to explain my post, but I'll go on. It made me think about the times I had when I went on my study abroad backpacking trip to Europe six years ago, and how much I miss it. I think while on that trip, I realized the tools I need to be happy in life. To rise above whatever is going on and maintain my sanity, and some clarity. And quite honestly, in recent months, I have lost that sense of clarity. I've been so caught up in all of the drama of my life, swimming so far deep without a sense of how to surface, and it's taken its toll on me.

I just want to remember how to rise above it all. How to deal with everything with grace and dignity, and to feel like myself again--happy, carefree, giddy, despite whatever is going on. And now that I'm more aware of it, I think it will be a little easier to return to that place. Hopefully this post was a bit less cryptic, and left you feeling with a better sense of what the hell is going on. (If you figure it out, can you give me a call? I'd love to be clued in!)

With a blog, some posts are lovestruck, some are funny, and some are just plain self-indulgently theraputic. So if you're in for the ride, keep reading about my life. At the very least, I'm usually good for some comic relief. Maybe I'll post a little Police Blotter Friday action later to make up for it.

And on a brighter note: we have some good friends coming to visit the next couple of weekends, so stay tuned for posts about our (probably slightly intoxicated) adventures!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Be quiet.

I have forgotten how to be quiet. I've forgotten how to listen, how to conjure up those feelings of peace and happiness without needing an outside catalyst.

In the past year, I've allowed things to get me down, and I need to remember how to get to the place where they don't bother me anymore.

I remember a moment six years ago, riding on a train through Italy. I was in a lot of turmoil--I had left a bad relationship, my heart was broken. I was trying to figure out how to heal myself on a seven week journey backpacking through Europe. It wasn't why I left, but it was an underlying theme throughout the trip. I had tried to block it out--the bad memories, all of the pain. Nothing seemed to help. I spent weeks trying to forget what had happened. Then, there was this moment on the train--I was listening to Lifehouse on my ipod, watching the gorgeous scenery go by, the dim sounds of excited conversation surrounding me in a pillow of solitude. And it was then that I had the glowing moment of happiness, and I realized how lucky I was. To have this opportunity to travel, to be on this adventure of a lifetime, meeting amazing friends. Suddenly--I just knew that everything would be okay. My friend Vic took this picture of me in that moment, the perfect moment. I'll be forever grateful to him for that.

Me, on a train in Italy.
I miss the clarity of that solitude, the brightness of that glow that rises up inside of you when you realize you are the luckiest person in the world. When you're thankful for the beautiful little things in life: a sunset, a cup of coffee, the two-hour conversation I had with my Dad yesterday, singing in my car at the top of my lungs, and the smile on K's face when I catch his eye across a crowded room.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I think remembering how to be quiet will follow. Maybe meditation, or a yoga class will help. Or maybe K and I should take off for another seven weeks to Europe...

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

A Sweaty Old Friend

Yesterday was my maiden voyage to the gym this year. I know, I know... I said it was my new year's resolution. I'm sorry, I lied. I pay a membership for every month. It's only $10, but I still cringe when I see it debited from my account, like a tiny little elf poking me in the side, saying--hey, you paid for this, and you DIDN'T EVEN USE IT!

Oh elf. Leave me alone.

I really enjoy the magical weight loss remedies that present themselves as the solution to all of your weight loss problems. "They're these weird Swedish nutrition bars my mom uses to lose weight. It burns carbs. It just burns up all your carbs."

The solution is no secret, and we all know what it is. Eat right and exercise. I know, I'm one to talk... but come on people! No magical pills are going to do it. Putting foreign chemicals into your body isn't going to help. All we have to do is nom on some veggies and get our booties to the gym, and we'll be good to go. It's easier said than done, trust me--I know.

But I did manage to get back to the gym yesterday. I blew the dust off and creaked open the cobwebbed drawer containing my workout clothes and drove myself there. When I walked in the door, I half expected millions of balloons to fall from the ceiling and a sounding round of applause from the patrons. Thank you! Thank you! *Miss America Wave*

It was like revisiting an old friend. A very sweaty, loud old friend wearing a wifebeater and swishy pants. And it really did feel good to get back; I'm hoping to stay in the game this time and actually use my membership. And the good news is-- I think I waited long enough that I missed the rush of New Year's Resolutioners. See, I totally did it on purpose.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

My Cat Voice

My social skills have been severely eroded by working from home full time. In the past 2 years, I went from getting up every day and putting my work clothes on to being lucky if I change from stretchy pants to pajama pants at the end of the day.

Now don't get me wrong, there are lots of awesome things about it too. There's no commute. I don't have to drive in any kind of bad weather. I don't have to do my hair if I don't want to, which is awesome since it takes forEVER to dry this mop. (See post: Why I had a pixie cut in high school) It's also awesome because it allows me to feed my latest addiction: Gilmore Girls. I can watch it all day long if I want. And Maury. We'll save that closet addiction for a later post.

But I'll tell you what... it's pretty strange not having human contact all day. There's no water cooler antics, no guy from accounting bringing in doughnuts on Friday, nobody to chat with about the weekend's events. There's no cute work clothes, no birthday parties in the kitchen, no separation between work and home. My coworkers are cats. And frankly, I think I'm starting to forget how to talk to people.

See, I've got different voices.

1.) My Professional Voice. Used for speaking with coworkers (which I currently have none of), clients, and my boss. This includes using full sentences and proper grammar, no swear words or acronyms. Sarcasm is kept at a minimum to avoid confusion and/or judgment from my peers.
2.) My Friend Voice. Used for speaking with friends. Swear words, acronyms, heavy sarcasm...sometimes a friendly punch in the gut or a high five. Anything goes.
3.) My Cat Voice. Now this voice is secret, and used to and for the cats exclusively. Only the problem is, this voice has currently started leaking into instances in which only other voices are appropriate. I did my best to hide my cat voice from K for the first year or so of our relationship, saving my "WHO'S MOMMY'S BEEG BOY?" for Linus, only when we were alone. But now we all live together. And slowly, I have found my cat voice creeping in when K is around. I try not to scare him too much, but really it's inevitable, since this is the voice I use all day long when nobody else is here.

The cat voice creeps in sometimes when I'm on the phone with my boss, too. How do you sign off on the phone? I think I've forgotten how, since the last few times we've spoken, right before I hang up the phone, I go: "buh bye."

Buh bye? Reeeeal professional.

So I'm thinking I need some extra human contact STAT. Maybe going back to the gym will help. I can be that annoying girl on the treadmill, trying to chat up the lady next to me in my cat voice: "HAI STRANGER. WHOOOO'S MOMMY'S BEEG GIRL?"

Friday, February 18, 2011

Dear Britney

Dear Britney,

I saw your new music video today, and I single-handedly started a slow clap for you that began in my kitchen and (I'm sure) reverberated across at least New York State.

I really liked the white dress and the fancy lights. I also liked the tribute to Rocky Horror with the lips. I want you to know, Britney, that I was always pulling for you. I watched you spin into a nightvisiony downward spiral, and I cringed along with the rest of America as you reverted to your white trash ways, but I always knew you had a little more Hit Me Baby One More Time in you. I stood by your side through the popping out of K-Fed's spawn, through the breakup, through the umbrella spaz. And I'm standing by your side now.

Well done.

For years, you have been a symbol of hope for Disney Mouseketeers everywhere. We counted on you to wrap giant snakes around your bikini-clad body and show us what the American Dream was really all about. We watched you go from America's sweetheart to snake tamer extraordinaire. As young impressionable girls, we looked to your photoshopped posters as an impossible physical standard to make our boyfriends drool, and some of us snickered as you hit rock bottom.

But not me, Britney.

I was always there for you, waiting for you to dump the zero and get with a hero. It started with the Glee episode devoted to your iconic musical history, and continued through your newest music video. You haven't disappointed, Britney, and I slow clap for you.

Keep up the good work, and stay away from umbrellas and beard trimmers.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Chocolate FAIL.

Yesterday, I was laying on the couch, fervently plugging away at my website while enjoying some delicious Valentine's chocolates that K had given me, when suddenly I looked down and realized that I had chocolate ALL OVER ME.  Like not just a smear or two. A 2-inch square of melted chocolate welded to my beautiful new stark white northface that K had gotten me for Christmas. Also, the entire underside of my chin was covered in my melty Valentine's treats.

K is like Nostradamus. He knew this would happen. That's why he got me 2 northfaces for Christmas, one black and one white. The white one was supposed to be for non-chocolate activities. Fail.

There's a reason he knew this would happen: I'm the messiest person on the planet. No, seriously. If I had a meal-to-spill ratio, it would be 1,000,000. Or .000001. I don't know, I'm really bad at math. But it would be huge. Because literally not a meal goes by that I don't spill all over myself.

There was one night when I was sitting on the couch with S & J (sister and her bf) watching TV. It was after Thanksgiving, so we were eating leftover pie with a mound of whipped cream on top. I went to cut a piece of pie off with my fork and... wait for it... flipped the ENTIRE PIECE OF PIE, whipped cream and all, onto my chest. It just stuck there. And I made a pouty face. My sister (such a sweetheart, that one) took PICTURES, while I laid there all pouty with a plate of pie stuck to my chest.

Another night, I was eating a brownie fudge sundae (we love our desserts in this house), just hangin' with Bedtime Bear on the couch, when I looked down and realized I had smeared chocolate all over my bear's face. S & J were witness to this as well. They know all of my dirty secrets.

K and I have already agreed that at our wedding we're going to wear those plastic bibs that you get when you eat lobster at a fancy restaurant. All night. I want the ones with the cartoon lobster on them, too.

I will tell you this, though-- by the time we have kids, I'm going to be a laundry EXPERT. No grass, chocolate, or even poop will survive my washing skills, because I have been carefully trained by the most savvy of masters: K. He has taught me everything he knows, and last night he coached me on the phone as I did CPR on my northface under the most stressful of conditions. Thank goodness K stays calm under pressure, because I thought I was going to have a breakdown.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


K got me the best birthday present EVER this year. They are called Bear Hands, and they are like grown up mittens that instantly transform you into a bear.

The instant you put them on, you start growling and pawing people. Lucky for us, we went to a parade the day that he gave them to me, and we high fived EVERYONE. For serious. I'm already obsessed with high fives, and fleece mittens that look like bear paws just make you want to slap everyone you see.

I like to play a fun game called "What can I do with my Bear Hands?" And so far the list is thus:
1.) Drink pop.
High FIVE.
2.) Make my kitties want to bite me when I chase them around the house with them on.
3.) Wtyire as blpg (write a blog.)
4.) Navigate my way through an ice castle.
5.) Pretend I'm a zombie bear, groan and wander around the house in a zombie-like state.
6.) Build a snowman.
7.) Be awesome.

I plan on adding to the list, but that's all I've attempted for now.  The level of excitement I feel when I put on these mittens is further evidence that contrary to outer appearances, I am a 5-year-old in a 27-year-old's body.

Look, Ma-- BEAR HANDS.

Monday, February 14, 2011

I peed outside yesterday

That's right, kiddies. A cherry to top off the most romantic of weekends, I had to pee outside yesterday. In the snow. On the side of a mountain road. I was laughing so hard tears were pouring down my face.

Here's how it all started. We had SUCH an awesome weekend. The most awesome and romantic weekend that I've had yet in 2011, actually. To celebrate my birthday and Valentine's day, which fall four days apart, we traveled up to Lake Placid for the weekend. We found this awesome, relatively inexpensive hotel just off the beaten path, run by the CUTEST old man and his wife. When we got there, he handed us two cold beers, and I knew right off the bat we had found the perfect place.

Friday night, we went to a fantastic dinner at this gorgeous little inn just down the road. They sat us right by the fire, and then we got some more delicious Lake Placid beers (DELICIOUS, if you've never tried them) and relaxed in the room. Saturday was the parade and ice castle, and it was SO COOL. I was jumping around like a five-year-old, I was so excited. We had the best time, and the weather was awesome. I have to tell you that I was more relaxed and content this weekend than I have been in a while, I didn't realize how much we needed to just get away for a couple of days. We live together, but quite honestly we don't see each other as much as you'd think. And to spend a couple of days alone together, laughing and watching stupid crap on TV was AWESOME.

Sunday came, and we had to pack up our stuff and get on the road. We left the hotel and drove around LP for a bit, just checking out the scenery and soaking it all in before we left. I had two cups of coffee before we got in the car, and another one when we stopped at a gas station heading out of LP.

I could feel myself having to pee shortly after we got on the road, but I kept my mouth shut for two reasons. One: I have a bladder the size of a pea, and I had had to go every time we went anywhere the entire weekend. And two: on the way out of LP, you are driving through the mountains, and there is hardly ANYWHERE to stop, except for scenic parking spots just off the road. So I held it for as long as I could, the bumps in the road like tiny ninja swords stabbing my belly. Finally, K turned to me and said "I have to pee, do you?"  I don't know what tipped him off, maybe it was the pained expression on my face. Or maybe it was the death grip I had on the door handle. Either way, K could tell I had to go. He drove faster, trying to get me to a bathroom, because since I had kept my mouth shut when I should have opened it, it was now an extreme emergency.

And that's when I had the moment. The pre-puke moment where you look around the room and assess where you will puke if you have to (potted plant...purse... garbage can--jackpot!) I looked around the car, trying to see what we had just in case I needed it. And this was the moment I realized I couldn't wait for a rest stop or a gas station; I needed to go NOW.

The bumps got more intense, and I was laughing so hard that tears were pouring down my face. I mean, what are the chances we'd pass TWO different sets of signs with "ROUGH ROAD" printed on them. It was like I was being punished for something. What, I don't know.

K did some MacGyver moves and skidded into the next relatively secluded scenic overlook spot he could find, (and this is how I know he will be a good dad, by the way) opened two of the Jeep doors, and stood watch for me while I peed next to the car as delicately and ladylike as possible.

When the adventure was over, I managed to pull myself together, stop laughing and wipe the tears from my face, I looked at K and realized that as hilarious as this was, it was just another one of the reasons why he is absolutely perfect for me. And we laughed about our misadventures the entire ride home. Best. Valentine's Day. Ever.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Why I had a pixie cut in high school

I had a pixie cut in high school. It was the hotness. Some people thought I was a boy, so once I graduated I grew it out porn star long to make up for the lost years of mistaken gender identity.

I'm going to give you a run down of my daily routine to explain why I buzzed my locks during my adolescent years. It takes me about an hour to blow dry this mop. Brush in shower, towel dry, put on heat protectant stuff so I don't get those little squiggly hairs all up on my noggin like a baby with peach fuzz, blow dry until I'm sweating so bad I have to change my shirt again, more heat protectant stuff, then curling iron. And trust me... the curling iron (or straightener) is EXTREMELY necessary. Otherwise I'm taking it back to the '70s with my afro puff.

I do my hair in front of a white-curtained window. This is strategic for two reasons:
1.) it lets enough light in that I can see the smoke rising up from my head if I've held the curling iron on it for JUST too long (hence the baby peach fuzz.) And 2.) I know when my hair is done when I look at it against the white background and I figure it would be easy enough to Photoshop a silhouette around the old bean with the pen tool. (Graphic design is both a curse and a blessing.)

Because of the high maintenance diva wig, summer is flat out scrunch season. My blow dryer will not be turned on from June 1st to October 1st. I go through about 4 cans of mousse a month. Good thing my favorite is White Rain (dollar store, what what!)

So during high school when I had to get up at the butt crack o' dawn, scarf down my Lucky Charms during a quick episode of Sister Sister and speed out the door, the pixie cut was a necessary and practical move for this lady.

So there you have it, folks. That's the story of the pixie cut. Not that I'm insecure about the fact that I was mistaken for a boy and felt the need to explain myself. Not at all.
My friend El and I after a softball game. Hawt!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

The Big Day is HERE! It's Muh Birfday.

Carebear Birthday Party!
The big day is here, kiddies! It's muh birfday. The big 2-7. One year closer to 30, and another time to reflect on all the awesome things about my life.

Awesome thing #1: Some people get nostalgic about their teen years, but now that I'm 27, I don't have to deal with curfews, awkward dates, being grounded for spending the night over at Sarah's house, getting arrested for underaged drinking, PE class, or having to get permission to do pretty much anything. It's pretty phenomenal.

Awesome thing #2: I think with age, I'm starting to care a little less about what people think of me. Just a little. And I'm starting to find the middle ground of being honest with people and retaining my dignity. Maybe everyone goes through this, but it's taken me 26 27 years. It feels pretty damn good!

Awesome thing #3: I have the best bf ever. I know, it probably makes you want to barf, but trust me, there were a lot of not awesome dates before I met this guy. He makes me laugh, he loves the me that I love, and he sews me new pink gingham pillows when mine bust open in the washing machine. I am so incredibly thankful to have finally found him. It was worth the quarter-century wait.

Awesome thing #4: My sister and my future brother in law live in New York now. I can't tell you how awesome it was to be able to go out and spend my birthday with them last weekend; it has been almost 5 years since we have been able to do that, unless we flew back and forth. She is like a more mature, fabulous version of me (even though I am older) and she has always and will always be there for me, no matter what. I love her SO much.

Awesome thing #5: I'm lucky enough to have four parents who love me a LOT. They have been there for me through everything, and I love them all so much. I miss them now that we live in different states, but I'm looking forward to talking to them today :)

Awesome thing #6: I have some of the best friends you could ever EVER ask for. I love each and every one of you, and I'm so thankful to have you in my life. You make me smile, you pick me up when I'm down, and you listen when I need to talk. Love you all SO MUCH.

So kiddies, I think I will spend my day talking with all the people I love and reminiscing about the days when we weren't 3 years from 30. (yikes!) Thanks for reading my blog, this thing has been even more awesome than I ever thought it would be... and I appreciate that so many people care about what I have to say. Stay tuned for the post-weekend wrap up on Monday about the birthday weekend adventure we have planned!

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Anger Hangover

I had a hot date with Lisa Vanderpump and the gang again tonight. This time, it was the reunion show. (I'm behind on the DVR, okay? Birthday weeks are very busy!) What really struck me though was Kyle's reaction to everything. She's a spitfire, that's for sure. She says things right off the top of her head, and she doesn't give a shit who knows it. In some ways, I envy that about her. I'm passive-aggressive by nature, and I hate conflict more than cat poop on my carpet. I'm also a people pleaser, to boot. Maybe that's why I take out all of my sarcastic aggression on my blog, where nobody can chase after me with a baseball bat.

It must feel good, to just blurt out what you're thinking. Just spit it out, no filter. To say whatever comes to mind, not care who it hurts or what kind of consequences you'll face. And while I think there are some very theraputic advantages to spouting off at the proverbial mouth, I see the remorse in Kyle's eyes for some of the things she's said. And I'm reminded once again why I am better off finding a happy medium between being a complete bitch and the rug under people's feet.

Over the years, I've had to learn to stand up for myself in more ways than one. I've been put to the test in friendships and in relationships. And while I'm not afraid to look someone in the eye and tell them what I'm really feeling, I think there is a difference between heated confrontation and tactful conversation. And for the last 26 years I've been struggling to find a balance there. What I think I need to work on is telling people how I actually feel, but in a way that doesn't give me an anger hangover the next morning, regretting things I've said (or thrown.)

But I have to say that sometimes all I really want to do is cave into my childish and self-indulgent desires and make a list of all the people and things that piss me off, write it on my facebook status in all caps with seven exclamation points and a big sad face at the end, and wait for the sympathetic comments to follow. Everyone else does it, right? Maybe there's something to it!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

5 People I'd Vote Off the Island

There are a handful of people that make me want to flip my coffee table over and bull-charge my TV. I'm sure there are more to add to this list, but for now... here are my top 5.

#1.) Jesse James
K has recorded one thousand episodes of Monster Garage on the DVR, and every time I see his beady little face and tatto-y arms, I want to rip the muffler off of one of his prized mobiles and bean him over the head with it. That man has made a sport out of cheating on America's sweetheart, and because of his naughtiness, I can't stop having dreams about Kat Von D. And also Ryan Renolds. I really hope he and Sandy B get married and make lots of babies soon. But I digress.

#2.) Camille Grammer
Camille's husband cheated on her with a woman half her age, got her pregnant, and shamelessly humiliated her on national television, and somehow I still despise her. Maybe it's because she has had so much botox that I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or just plain bitchy, but I really would love to pimp slap her expressionless face.

#3.) Teen Mom's Amber Portwood
Amber Portwood beat her ginormous boyfriend to a pulp in front of their daughter on the show, and I swear I sat with my jaw in my lap while I watched. She's abusive, remorseless, and sets a bad example for girls everywhere. I would like to get in a giant sumo suit, wrestle her to the ground, and then gently push her out into a lake so she could float away, like Andy Bernard at the Dunder Mifflin company picnic.

#4.) Paula Deen
Nothing made me pee myself more than when she got hit with that ham last year. I'm sorry, Paula, but the way your tinsel-colored hair glistened as I watched that ham clock you in slow motion on YouTube was just beautiful. Your southern accent is just too perfect, and those teeth MUST glow in the dark. Let's cook some ham, y'all.

#5.) Ben Roethlisberger
I think all rapists should be painted in honey and locked in a room with thousands of bees. I used to think you were cute, Ben, but now when I look at your face, all I see is lots of ugly beard hair. About that time you lost the Superbowl... hey, karma's a bitch.

Monday, February 7, 2011

A little butt crack on my birthday

Well kiddies... 3 days until I turn the big 2-7. And since next weekend is Valentine's weekend, we decided to head out for a night on the town and celebrate the weekend before. And let me just say that the night started with a blizzard, and ended up with a little more butt crack than I would have expected.

Every year, mother nature seems determined to rain on my parade--both literally and figuratively. This year was no exception. Saturday before we were supposed to head out, it started to blizzard. Many of my friends weren't able to make it because of the weather, but a few did, and they are AWESOME. I seriously can't tell you how much I appreciate my friends for coming out and making my birthday special. I feel like such a lucky girl to have so many amazing people in my life.

So K started snowblowing the driveway while I got ready, and when I came downstairs it was absolutely horrific outside. Mother nature was projectile vomiting all up on my bday. I told K that this was just crazy, we shouldn't risk it in this weather (my sister's apartment is about an hour south of us, and we had to get down there first.) He shut the snowblower off, looked me right in the eye and told me we had four wheel drive, and we weren't going to miss it. What an amazing man I have in my life, to go to such lengths to make me happy.

So we slowly make the trek in the awful weather, four wheeling in the jeep all the way down to my sister's apartment. The weather was atrocious the entire time, but I sang to the radio as loud as I could to make up for it. (I'm sure K and his brother A really appreciated that.)

We had a great time at dinner, and went out for a few delicious drinks at a local watering hole (actually the place where K and I met, which is part of the reason I love it so much.) We all got in, got ourselves some drinks, and sat at a table. Suddenly we realized we were missing M&M, two of our friends who had come out to celebrate with us. We waited a few minutes, and I texted M to see where they were. Turns out she had forgotten her ID at home, and they wouldn't let her in. So (get this), in this blizzardy weather, M&M go ALL the way back home to get her ID, and come BACK to meet up with us again. I absolutely couldn't believe it. What amazing friends I have that would not only come out ONCE, but TWICE... in the middle of a blizzard. M&M, you guys seriously rock. Love you both.

So we all continued the night, got some delicious drinks in our bellies, and went over to another bar to meet up with a few of K's brother's friends. And as we are getting our coats off and starting to warm up, we spot a man across the bar who has his pants clear down his B-crack. That's right-- a full moon, folks. I stared at him for a minute, wondering how he couldn't feel that his crack was all hanging out. I mean, don't you feel a bit of a breeze? I really don't understand it. But his presence was a hell of a conversation piece, and we all got a good laugh. And I'll tell you what, no future birthday will be complete without a blizzard and some butt crack.

A little birthday buttcrack... thanks, roofer dude.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Police Blotter Friday: Too Bad, Snow Sad

Last Saturday, on our way home from helping my sister and her bf move, we drove through our little downtown area here in Stars Hollow and saw four police cars, a tow truck, a snowmobile, and a gaggle of bystanders crowding the street around 2am.

In our small town where mostly everything shuts down around 9pm, this was a big to-do. Plus I think 4 police cars encompasses the entire Stars Hollow police force. K and I drove by slowly, faces pressed against the windows, trying not to stare but desperately trying to check out what was going on. We drove by getting no answers, but we knew where we would turn to find out: next week's police blotter. It's our source for all things (and people) criminal and we've made a weekly tradition of drinking our coffee and reading it aloud to each other.

So here's the scoop: come to find out THIS week that the guy driving the snowmobile was drunk and crashed it into a fence, getting himself stuck. He was found walking down the street, helmet in hand, and when police approached him, he said: "he just wanted to go home."

Poor guy. I mean, who drives a snowmobile to the bar? Who then downs a bottle of jack, throws on his ski boots and jumps on a fast-moving machine to get home? Imagine what a bummer it would be to just want to get to your house, throw on your footy pajamas and crawl into a nice feather bed... then WHAM! you fly into a fence and get your hot rod all jammed up. (That's what she said.)

Seriously, dude... you're an idiot. And you deserve to get your mobile taken away. Nobody should be driving drunk, and now you've learned your lesson the hard way!

And that's the Stars Hollow Police Blotter for this week, folks. Have a great weekend--and stay off the snowmobiles if you're having a hot toddy.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Battle with Evil Mail Lady: Round 2... FIGHT.

I woke up to mounds of snow again today; big surprise. It really doesn't matter to me, since I work from home. I actually enjoy getting snowed in, as long as I have plenty of coffee creamer, hot pockets, and milk for my cereal.

Noon rolled around, I looked out the front window and saw her. Evil Mail Lady, right across the street. In a panic, I clumsily pulled on my boots, and trekked out into the blizzardy afternoon to shovel my porch and a little path through the driveway so EML wouldn't break her tiny little legs on our treacherous icy trail to Mordor.

Sweating with the effort it took, I got halfway down the driveway when my neighbor Lisa called out to me that I had already missed her. She said that EML was quite pissed about the snow, and declared publicly that she wouldn't deliver our mail today. I thanked Lisa for the info, filling her in that our snowblower was broken and K was traveling for work, and finished the little path I had so kindly decided to forge for EML, huffing swear words under my breath as I wasted the remainder of my lunch break on a fruitless endeavor.

Frustrated, I called K and told him the second round of the EML saga. I explained that it's not that I don't understand her frustration. I would be pissed too if I had to stomp through 2 feet of snow to get to someone's door too. And it's within her right not to deliver the mail if we don't shovel. It's just the attitude along with it that gets to me, publicly telling my neighbors how mad she was, and the fact that I DID get out to shovel, I just missed her by FIVE minutes.

But the awesome part of the story is that not a half hour after I got inside to return to working, pissed and sweaty, I heard the sound of a snowblower down on our lower driveway. I looked outside, and couldn't believe it: it was my neighbor from across the street, (who I have never personally met, mind you) clearing the snow from our driveway for me. I almost teared up, I was so thankful. Now I could get the car out of the garage and go get some food after work and pick up my prescription, which was actually stressing me out quite a bit. I pulled on my boots and coat again, and ran outside to introduce myself and say thank you. Honestly, say what you will about small town living, but that man spent almost an hour of his day doing something for a stranger, and in the process renewed my faith in mankind. What a sweet man, doing that for someone he barely knows, because he overheard me say our snowblower was broken. I have to say, I'm really starting to love living in a small town.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Spring Break '98

Okay, so this weekend my aunt and uncle were SO incredibly kind and drove a moving van full of my sister's stuff all the way from Michigan so she and her bf can move into their new apartment, and sleep on something other than an aerobed. What I didn't know was that tucked in between the tupperware and towels was a secret timecapsule back to 1998. (Thanks Mom!)

My mom had sent boxes of goodies with my photo albums, my high school diploma, and secret photos from spring break with my high school girlfriends that I thought had been (or SHOULD have been) lost forever. There were also my baby books, and some other dusty artifacts from the early 80's that I got a good laugh out of. I thought you would too. So on this snowy Tuesday, let this blast from the past warm your soul, and make you want to get out your scrunchies and put your hair in a side pony. You're all welcome.

My first Christmas, back in 1985... look at that tinsel!
To Santa Clas.

Drawing I sent to Santa. See, I was an artist even at 5.
First grade. Check out that hot pink side pony!

Eighth grade. I can't believe I'm even sharing this. The photographer made me laugh mid-shot, okay?