Riding on the Tickfaw

I took a couple of vacation days off last week so J took me riding on the Tickfaw on one of them. After I got used to being in the boat and got comfortable with going over 15 miles per hour, it was very relaxing. We pulled up at Ten Lizzy’s on the River and tied the boat to the pier, went in for a beer and some fried alligator. Wow, this sounds really Southern...

I took a couple pictures of the camps out at the river. There’s these little shacks that you see in the movies that make you think of Louisiana bayous and the South, and then you see huge mansions on the river with an RV and a yacht that has you wishing for the lottery. A bizarre contrast and an amazing sight to see.




Okay so now I have to be mushy and thank you know who again for the fun day. >Muah!< I loves you Monkey.

The Rating Game

Last night after a bowl of home made red beans and rice, J and I headed to the pool for a little relaxing. We like our pool time. It’s a place for quiet, serious talks, gazing into each others eyes >cough< Bleh. S’cuse me. Got a little sick for a second…

The pool has been known to bring the truth out on many levels. All he has to do is say “want to go take a dip in the pool?” with a certain look in his eye, and I know its about to get deep.

We have this retarded need for ego feeds and knowing how the other person feels about each other. (And to be honest, probably me more so than he.) Somehow we started asking each other to “rate” things, such as “rate the quality of our time together”. This very quickly turned into a game.

May I say this is an EXCELLENT, sneaky way of learning what the other person thinks about certain aspects of your relationship without hurting any feelings. You must say “be honest, this is a game. It won’t hurt my feelings.” And somehow, it doesn’t. Because it’s a game. (And because there’s a tall glass of vodka lemonade in your hand.)

Apparently J rates:

Our quality of time together a 10.
My friends on different levels – Michelle & David, you get the highest score! (and the crowd goes willldddd…)
My, err, ok maybe I won’t mention that one…
My cooking – an 8 1/2 . Because, and this is too cute, “there’s no junk food or sweets in your house.” He likes the cooking, but because this chic doesn’t keep Nestles Crunch or things of the like in her house, it pulls the score down a point and half from perfection. >sigh< I’m working on it…

New Orleans & Chicken Quesadillas

Time for a belated weekend update!

J & I felt like we spent most of the weekend on the road, but it ended up being a fun weekend. There was a birthday party on Saturday in Slidell to attend, so on the way in he took me through Metairie & New Orleans. When you’ve spent the last year looking at pictures of the damage and hearing stories, you can imagine what happened but never really know. Seeing the rummage and broken houses, the roofless shacks and water mark lines on the houses made it real. We drove through an area near the levee and J pointed out markings on the street that read “Help Us Please”. Each house was marked with an X and the number of bodies found in it. Businesses had spray painted the sides of their buildings with “BEWARE: We shoot looters!” We had to make a pit stop for the ladies room on the way out at Home Depot and the parking lot was jammed packed, walking through the store felt like walking through Walmart on a Sunday afternoon. So many people were still buying materials to rebuild their homes.

On a lighter note, after the birthday party we ventured over to P-town for a little eating and laughs at the Sanders. I learned a new way to make chicken thanks to Michelli, and we saw her beeeaaautiful baby room. If I ever grow a baby in ma belly, I’m going to attach Michelle to my hip to help me decorate the little one’s room. After the oo’s and aahh’s, we had chicken quesadilla’s and put a dvd on – The Benchwarmers. Hilarious. If you haven’t seen it and you’re in the mood for stupid funny, it’s the movie to watch. Two minutes in and the lights went out in the neighbor – a small town con. We made the best of it and eventually the lights came back on.

After a full day of running and seeing and playing, my monkey and I headed back home. I think we’re getting old… we were in bed by midnight. On a SATURDAY NIGHT.

That’s your weekend update. Now back to regular programming.

Another Day

I woke up this morning not remembering what it was like being single. My blog heading reads Another Day in the Same Life: I wake up to the same walls, smell, and light. I’m not so sure how true that statement is anymore. Sure, the walls are the same dull off white color, the light will always be dim but soothing, yet the smells are different now. The sounds are different. The way I feel in my surroundings… different.

After he snoozes his cell alarm for the fourth time, he rolls out of bed and I roll into his warm place to breathe in the scent he left. I usually fall in and out of sleep but never let myself fall completely into unconsciousness because I know the kiss and snuggle good bye is coming soon. What girl in her right mind would want to miss that for a little snooze time?

Today he needed a pair of jeans he said I washed earlier in the week. Not fully comprehending due to the state of wakefulness (or lack thereof) I was in, I told him I hadn’t washed his jeans and got out of bed to offer help. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about keeping my happy ass in the bed while the guy standing in my closet figured out what to do. Then again, normally I wouldn’t have a man staying the night, or be washing his jeans for that matter. I stood there looking at him, a little sorry I hadn’t washed them the night before as I had planned on doing. I pulled a pair of his jeans from the bottom of my hamper to throw in the dryer. At that point I think he realized I was still too loopy from sleep to think straight and told me sweetly not to worry about it. On the way to my sink I remembered where his freshly washed jeans were and with a grin pulled them out of my other closet and presented them to him. Good girl!

A minute later I was sitting on my kitchen counter nursing a Diet Dr. Pepper, watching him make his lunch for the day. I studied his back, the scary tatt on his shoulder blade, his innocent white boxers… thinking he should be wearing black or something with skulls on them. When did these little things begin to amuse me so much?

When he left and the door closed, I stood for a second to listen to his footsteps fade and took in the room. The apartment is so different when he’s not there. I can still smell and see him everywhere -- his cologne, the cell phone he left on my dresser, his shaving gel on the side of my tub.

So yeah, it’s another day, but not so much the same life anymore. Maybe it’s time to change my header…

File Nazi and Romantical Musings

Well guys, the file nazi will be here before 1pm today. I plan on taking a really long lunch before and have a few (meaning 4 or 5) margaritas. Top Shelf. Whish meee luff.

I had a really productive night, made some jewelry for my upcoming shows with Michelli. Repaired a co-worker’s necklace for her as well, took a run around the complex, and punched my upstairs neighbor in his mouth. Okay, so maybe I just told him he was loud. Sounds like an elephant parade up there. He’s moving, which is the reason for the recent noise. Yippee!! No more late night tap dancing above my head, no more climbing on my bed to pound the ceiling with my tennis shoe.

Oh! And I also watched Pride and Prejudice last night. Man, I needed a good cry like that. I used to say every woman needed a good cry at least once a month, clear out all that backed up emotion. Well, last night I had mine – what a beautiful love story. Watching a movie like that when I was single was kind of hard and would usually leave me wishing and wanting. Now it just makes me want to kidnap J and make him wear one of those white wigs and maybe a pair of tights that show under those short knickers they wore in the old days. Hmm… or maybe not.

What Color Heart Do You Have?

Got this off of Romantic Fool's blog -- she's right. Kinda scary how close these things are...

Your Heart Is Orange

Love equals unbridled happiness for you. You enjoy the wild ride of falling in love. And while the ride is fun for a while, you always get off once the thrill is gone. Your flirting style: Hyper Your lucky first date: Anything you need your passport for! Your dream lover: Is both daring and well grounded What you bring to relationships: Energy

What Color Heart Do You Have?

Another Packed Weekend

Hmm. Yeah, I’m looking at my new profile pic and just not sure I’m digging it. I think I’d rather look at my favorite artist’s muse with the big cha chas and lips…

Another packed weekend. Sometimes I just want to fake sick and hole up in my apartment all weekend. I'm know... I’m being dramatic. But seriously – don’t you sometimes just wish you could say no to everyone and sleep in late, order pizza, let your laundry pile up? I think I’m burning the candle at both ends now and I really need to sit down and figure out a way to lessen the load. I’m not really sure it’s a healthy sign when I come in from a fun, packed weekend, dump my laundry basket on the floor to sort and feel my eyes well up with tears. IT’S JUST LAUNDRY. Normally I love doing chores. It’s a sickness I inherited from my grandmother. Now I’ll walk by the same article of clothing I left on the floor four times before I decide I need to put it in the drawer or hamper.

And maybe it’s a bit to do with the file nazi (as J calls her) that’s coming to the office tomorrow for a random, needless audit. I’m so sick of coming to work knowing that I’ll be on the floor most of the day sorting files. It will all be over with this Friday though, and then I plan to consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Ha, just kidding. (Not really.)

We had a great birthday party for a friend J and I ride with on the weekends. I plan to post pics up as soon as they are sent my way. Hope everyone had a fun weekend. Now off to nose in everyone else’s blogs before I bury myself in files…

New Profile Pic

okay okay -- I've had three people tell me recently that my profile pic disturbs them. So, I'll be a good girl and change it. I'm not promising this one is here to stay though...

You Asked For It

Okay, okay. So I haven’t blogged in a while. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, I just haven’t had the time these last couple of weeks. So here’s my overview:

Work: Normally I wouldn’t bother posting an “update” about work, but it’s the main reason for the lack of posting these days. We have a new drill sergant part-time co-worker who was hired to support and help us when we are busy with our conferences. When she’s not busy, she’s trouble. Recently she decided in the midst of training, board meetings and workshops, she wants us to rearrange our files. So in the three hours left of each day after training, I’m forced to sit on my dirty floor surrounded by boxes of papers and files, and make some sort of sense and order out of them for filing down in storage. Like I don’t have two associations to manage or something. (And more importantly, when am I going to have time to surf the net if I’m buried in files?)

Relationship update: >sigh< Where can I start? Last week J sent me a dozen beautiful long stem red roses to me at work, just because. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone send me flowers at work before. I’ve watched women at work for years receive flowers, watched their faces glow and turn flushed and thought, “eh, so you got roses.” I’m not sure its even about the flowers. It almost felt as if J hired one of those airplanes that trail banners behind them, his saying “I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS WOMAN.” Maybe I’m making way too much of this, but that’s how it felt to me.

We just recently had a conversation that has taken me back a bit, made me really think about the seriousness of our relationship. If I have the balls to do it, I may post about it. However, we all know he reads my posts and that may be stepping over a line.

Has anyone been raised believing there are certain levels and steps in relationships? I have, and I think its really created these strong morals and beliefs in me that I am proud of and somewhat hard-headed about, but sometimes I wonder who made these rules that have me feelings so unsteady when breaking them?

Even so, I’ve never been happier. I still feel like that girl that everyone wants to punch in the face. “Want to hang out after work today?” “Nah, I’m going home to J.” “Have you ever done__?” “No, but J has. Have I told you how sweet he is?”

Friend update: My Michelli had her baby shower this weekend! I can’t believe how close she is to being a mommy. I don’t have any pictures myself, but once she has her’s up (and with her permission) I may link her post so everyone can view the ooo’s and ahhh’s of her cute shower. You always think you have a good support group of friends and family, but when you see the turnout of those friends and family for these special events in life, its really amazing. Michelle packed the hostess’s house to the point of busting, and most of the men were kind enough to step outside on the patio with the beer to give us more room. Hmm. Wait…

Well, I better run for the morning. I have training today and tomorrow. Don’t be jealous.

Little Things I Love About Being a Couple

Okay, so J & I are officially gay. We are that couple that everyone hates to be around. I just know it. BUT I DON'T CARE!!!

We started a notepad of the little things we love about being a couple. He was sitting on the couch last night laughing at the television and I just got so tickled I had to write it down. Guess I started something 'cause he had to join in.


1. No more cold feet at night.
2. I've suddenly forgotten about stupid fears like someone breaking in the apartment at night.
3. When she says "oh baby.. would you like me to... iron your shirt for tomorrow?" - This is one J wrote -
4. Response to J's - Ironing your shirt is so much better than ironing mine for some reason.
5. Boy stuff all over the apartment; keys, backpack, jeans over the foot of my bed.
6. Three words: Dinner for two.
7. Little things like him putting the toilet seat down just makes me smile.
8. Sitting back quietly grinning as he cracks up laughing at the television.
9. Breakfast together on the weekends.
10.Irritating my friends because "J does this" and "J does that".

Here are some of the one's J wrote:
1. Hearing the words "I love you baby, good night" right before I fall asleep.
2. Earlier she said "Is this our house...uh...my house?" (Coming back from the pool I got a little confused at which door was mine.)
3. Always knowing someone that cares is a phone call away at the most.
4. Doing two separate things in the same room, i.e. me watching tv, you making your jewelry.


Add to the list if you want! (Michelle, I know you wanna. Don't cha? Don't cha wish your boyfriend was hot like mine! Ow! Okay, I'll stop now...)

BBQ at Bean's!

Well, we had a very eventful weekend! J, Michelli & David, my sister,brother and sister-in-law came over for burgers this weekend. I learned a lot about how thick a burger should be pre-grill in order for it to fit in your guests' mouths. I also learned that Michelle carries a little notepad around so she can journal clever things that she and her friends may blurt out so she can blog them later. Oh, and I learned that no matter how funny it is at the moment, making a funny face at a camera 6 inches away from your head will not turn out as funny as you think it may.






We had delicious French fries – did you know you have to put them in the pan of oil after the oil has heated?

Okay, so I’m kidding (a little). Here’s the pics from the weekend with quotes directly related, compliments of Michelle and I below.


"If I were a bun, I'd want to be toasted." - Michelle



"It looks like our shoes are playing together." - Michelle



"That's how grease fires start." - Bean



Michelle and David, the happy couple. >bleh<



Since the burgers were to big to be eaten in their entirety the first go round, I wrapped up leftovers for everyone in the shape of swans and turtles.

Sleep Talking

This morning I slide softly out of bed so as not to disturb the sleeping monkey that warms my bed for me and walk quietly into the kitchen for my dose of DDP. After a can and that dumb Nick Lachey video where the chic doesn’t do anything but move her head up and down and try to be an actress…wait, what was I talking about? Oh, so after my can and a stupid video, I walk back into my bedroom to “brush my tooth”, as J says, and the sleeping monkey says (in very loud voice) “…mumble mumble...CUPCAKE.”

I stop in my tracks and say “What was that?”

No answer.

“J, what did you say?” I repeat. He mumbles, says something like “huh? What?” So I’m giggling and try to help him out, thinking he's still sleeping – “What about cupcakes?”

“DID YOU FIND THEM,” he mutters loudly. I burst out laughing of course. I’ve never been around a sleep talker before, so manipulating one is a great new hobby for me. I can’t wait till he does it again.

Later I ask him about it. He apparently woke himself up talking and realized what he was saying and tried to fix it. Ha. This relationship is very entertaining.

What Kind of Martini Are You?

Okay I love this silly things. Supposedly I'm Romantic Fool's drinking soulmate.

You Are A Blueberry Martini

You are a eclectic drink - liking to change drinks and venues often.You are usually the first of your friends to find a cool new dive bar or cocktail. You should never: Drink mystery drinks strangers hand you. Unless you want to wind up in foreign country. Your ideal party: Is mobile, hopping from party to party. Your drinking soulmates: Those with an Orange Martini personality. Your drinking rivals: Those with a Chocolate Martini personality.

What Flavor Martini Are You?

Dress Up Continued

Post dedicated to Lola...
I’m doing a little cleaning right now at the office, sorting through old pics, most of which I shouldn’t have on the office computer anyway. Came across one of my favorites – dress up night at Bean’s & Lola’s. As noted in earlier pics, we are shooting ourselves because there is no better photographer than yourself. Especially after a few bottles of wine.

This is the only time I will admit cleaning to be fun. I’m finding all kinds of neat things…

Beauty Day

Well, it was about time for Rapunzel to get her hair cut. My sister came into town to give Rapunzel her snipping, and I decided it was time for mine too. It was quite the event. Toot danced and sang for us (those are my sunglasses), my sister and I got into a spanking war – she had the flat brush in her hand, so you know I had my butt on the ground to avoid the sting. Ahh, I remember being popped on the behind as a child with one of those things…

Anyway, new pics from Mel’s camera. Enjoy!

Random Thought of the Day

About two or three months ago I was buying sliced turkey from my local deli when I happened to look down at a loaf of Sara Lee bread in the midst of a line up at the bottom of the counter.

Does anyone know the Sara Lee slogan? Do you think its “Nobody does it like Sara Lee”? Well, I did.

That’s not their slogan. It’s “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee.”

Now fuck me if I’m wrong, but that’s the dumbest tag I’ve ever heard. Maybe the brilliance of it is to have consumers think the slogan/tag line is one thing, but actually be another. Well if so, that’s just stupid too. That tag is like someone saying “Your team doesn’t suck” when someone asks if that particular team is good.

Why not “Everybody likes Sara Lee”?

Okay, I’m done. Thanks for your attention.

Your Love Style

James got me hooked on these blog thingies. This one is pretty neat and hits the nail on the head.

Your Love Style is Eros

For you, love is all about the passion!And chances are, you're currently in love.You have a strong physical response to love...And you are great at committing (As long as the person makes your toes curl!)

What's" Your Love Style?

Weekend Trip

What a beautiful weekend. J & I went to Katy, Texas for his friend’s wedding. This was our first weekend away together, so needless to say I was a bit nervous the week before. Three full days of being together non-stop.

We had dinner, relaxed in the outdoor hot tub and pool, visited his friends, shopped, and just goofed off together. Saturday night we went to the wedding, which was outdoors on a golf course. The backdrop was the sun setting and after they were announced as man and wife, they all drove away on golf carts for a few putts at the end of the course. Then it was inside for drinks and dancing.

The test: would J pull me on the dance floor if a slow song came on? While this seems trivial, to me its one of the most romantic things a man can do with a woman. I grew up in a family that loved to dance. When I was a child my father would turn the radio on low late at night and pull my mother up off the couch in her gown and barefeet to dance to what ever slow song was playing. Every family reunion was centered around dancing.

Of course I just melted when J walked me to the dance floor. I wish I could remember what song was playing. All I can remember was his singing and my laughing. He’ll probably kill me if he reads this. He has his own renditions of certain songs, incorporating my name in them. Have I mentioned the man is hilarious? I would share what his lyrics are, but again, he’s probably reading this.

Damn it.

Lazy Ass

This morning was one of the hardest mornings this week to wake up and carry my butt to work. I was having one of those nights where every sound roused my interest (and fear), causing me to peek out from the covers to peer in the shadows of the corners of my room. My monkey was out of town so I had no long limbs wrapped around me, protecting me from these sounds… sounds that were most likely the apartment settling or the air conditioning popping.

Yes, I checked every closet and under my bed. Twice.

The alarm clock forgot to remind me to set it, and I woke up late. Ever have those mornings where you’re just dragging ass and nothing, NOTHING can light a fire under it? I threw a hissy when I realized I’d have to make my lunch before leaving. (Which is just strange because there was no one to throw the hissy in front of. Kind of like talking to yourself when there’s no one around.) When I make it to work and get out the car on the fourth row of the lot, my body is sagging from the morning heat and all I want to do is sit down on the concrete and wait for the next car to pass by. Wave them down. Offer the only money I have in my purse, a fiver, to just open the door and let me in, and will you please just drop me at the front of the building? No that’s alright, I’ll ask the next person I see to carry me in, but thanks anyway.

The elevator is open without having to push the button to signal it (thank God) and I step in alone. I want to hug the steel walls, to kiss the little lit #9 button.

Now if I can only pay someone to do my work, I’d be on my way to pure happiness. At least for today.

OCD Cured?

So I was at my parents this weekend for Father’s Day. It was time to go, and my family began the usual ritual associated with my departure – everyone gets up, Mom digs in the fridge and tries to send me home with something random “hun do you want some coleslaw? How about some chicken thighs?” and I’m rejecting the offer while Toot (my nephew) is suddenly distraught by my leaving, doing his best to climb up my leg to get to me. We walk outside, I kiss everyone bye and thank them for the day, tell Daddy I hope he likes the cap and DVD I gave him. Get in the car and beep the horn as I’m pulling off and waving bye.

>gasp< I think I’m cured! Usually there’s an entirely different ritual involved in my weekendly departure. (ha, love to make up words)

Normally, I have to kiss my family in a certain order: first I kiss Mom and hug her, then my sister, then I try to kiss Toot which usually results in a war, then I kiss and hug my father. Then I tell them I enjoyed the day, blah blah, and lean in to repeat the hugging and kissing in the same order as before.

If I do not kiss and hug them twice, I feel strange. And, it must be done in that exact order, or I have to stop and start over. Mom and Dad have to be at the beginning and end because I love them most, no offense to my sister and nephew, but they did give me life.

My family used to just laugh at me when I did this, then when they realized it was something I had to do, they started messing with me. Like for instance, Mom would lag behind in the house and say “Go ahead and start saying your good-byes, I’ll be right out,” knowing I couldn’t start without her. Or Dad would try to jump in front of my sis to be hugged, knowing I wouldn’t step back and tell him it wasn’t his turn. Ultimately I’d get flustered and just have to start over.

Okay, so this is really dumb and I know I don’t have OCD, but it is kinda entertaining how I feel compelled to do these things without reason.

I think since my life’s been changing recently, I’ve had more to think about and less to obsess over. Hmph. I’m cured! (Until I find my next obsession…)

Blog Found

Okay, so he didn’t actually find it, I sort of… gave it to him. Blame it on the love bug, but I just thought he would feel like I really trust him if I let him read it. And I do trust him. So I sent him the url. And get this – he told me he was hesitant to read it because he wasn’t sure if I really wanted him to read it. Awww…

There’s nothing on here that I need to hide, and after reading it he told me that he basically knew everything written anyway. Said he was flattered and seemed to get a little kick out of it. I’m not sure what I expected, but now that I think about it – I would be flattered too if someone had an online journal that featured posts about me!

I Never Blog

Check out the "I Never" blog, compliments of DJMetronome. http://ineverhaveyou.blogspot.com/

Don't be scared.

My WONDERFUL Friday Night – Dedicated to Michelli

Well, it seems I have left out a very important night of my weekend and have bruised a dear friend’s feelings. What she doesn’t know is that I had started an entry (usually beginning in MS Word and copy/pasting into blogger when its complete) but had not yet finished it. Ever start a blog and not feel the ending is what you want it to be? Well, that’s where I was, okay? >sob<

So Friday night J and I decided to bbq some chicken legs – wait, let me stop here and add on. Miss FunkyFreshCool seems to think we bbq chicken tits, but they were leg joints. Ha, I just said joint. Sounds like Miss FFC has some TLC (titty loving care) on her mind. BUT HOW CAN SHE NOT? Her puppies are monsterous now that she’s an incubator. (Are you embarrassed now Michelli? Want some more? Don’t mess with me man!)

Our favorite couple, Dave and Carmen, aka David & Michelli, came over to grub with us. The entrée was bbq chicken, some fried eggplant (with sugar, though I’m not sure anyone caught on) and pasta salad. Mmm! For an appetizer Michelli and I devoured nearly an entire jar of queso with tortilla chips while the men stared at the pit and talked about cars. Apparently I have sympathy hunger pains for my pregnant friend and think I can eat for two as well.

After dinner we watched the boys play video games and browsed through scrapbook magazines, my new favorite obsession thanks to the Scrapbook Queen herself. A little randomness, a lot of laughter, and yes, quite a few snorts out of Michelli and we were all pooped and ready to call it a night.

I must say, having another couple to hang out with really makes the whole relationship seem real. My friends never left me out of things just because I was single, but I see the ones that are part of couple more now than ever, and I love it.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

I'm not really sure I agree with this little survey thing, as I'm not high strung, but it was entertaining. Stole it from James site: http://hambonestyle.blogspot.com/

You Are a Chihuahua Puppy

Small, high strung, and loyal.You do best in the city with a adults - young kids could crush you!

What'>http://blogthings.com/whatbreedofpuppyareyouquiz/">What Breed of Puppy Are You?

Women and Cat Calls

This weekend I went to see a comedian at a local bar with J and some friends and I noticed something that has always particularly confused the hell out of me. Women who dress for attention but get pissed when they receive it from the wrong person.

If you are going to wear a bright red halter shirt that shows off the puppies or a skirt smaller than a head band, then expect some comments. Please note that you do not have control over who it will be that makes the comments but that you do have some control over the comments made by the outfit that you present yourself in. If you show up dressed decently and some jackass makes a rude comment, your slapping him is way more justified.

Highly unlikely that you are going to pick up the handsome suit in the corner who lives in the swanks that makes more than your entire family put together because if they wanted a girl that dresses like a hooker, well, they could afford to just go out and buy one. However, if you are dressing as eye candy, the average (and occasionally toothless) Joe is receiving the show for free, so don’t expect him to keep him mouth shut unless you want to throw on a potato sack.

Okay, I’m done.

Costumes & Curse Words

I was thinking today of my old roomie Lola and some of the random shit we used to do. The thoughts started when I came across an old 80’s style house coat she gave me. We both had a thing for robes and house coats, but this one what every 80’s housecoat should be: lime green with HUGE white buttons down the front with white rick rack accenting every edge and the collar. Large pockets in the front to hold who knows what, because why exactly would you be in a housecoat long enough to store something in the pockets?

The housecoat made me think of her costume bin. Yes, she had a costume bin, and a large one I might add, of silly costumes including a man’s plant jumpsuit with sewed on name tag, maid’s dress with feather duster, a waitress dress (Flo’s Diner style) and some animal print cowboy hats.

To save money we stayed in a lot at night. We got bored. On occasion we would order pizza, get dressed in costume and act like nothing when the pizza boy delivered. On one occasion she answered the door in the yellow Flo’s waitress outfit while I passed by in the background a few times in the bright blue man’s work jumpsuit. I think I had pressed her earlier to talk like she was from Jersey, but I’m pretty sure it took a lot just to open the door in that outfit.

We made up curse words, which I believe started in traffic. “Look at this idiot! You stupid idiot-f*#k!” Our favorites were bitchhead and son-of-a-f*#ker, and we tried others that eventually bombed because they just weren’t catchy enough. Oh! Asswhore. I’ve always liked Pig f*#k. Oh, and the best one – Face f*#ker – used in specific cases only. That’s a lot of “f” word, sorry.

I must say I AM NOT A DIRTY GIRL, but I do love a good cursing session every once in a while. And it was fun making them up with Lola. It reminded me of being 13 and still wanting to play with barbies. You’re too embarrassed to bring up that you still like playing with barbies (or making up cursewords) and then somehow your friend starts it up before you have to.

There’s something about a curse word that just perfectly accents your thought.

For example: J, was being so sweet the other day (like that's unusual) that I was just filled up with this incredible urge to tell him“I f*#kin’ love you!”. Well, I wrote it on our message board. Huh. I just said "our" instead of "my". Focus! When he read it, he raised his voice and reciprocated (the same way), the best reaction I’ve ever when using the “F” word.

And another – this came from a movie or book I once read. Can’t remember. The woman says that she’s at a friend’s house eating spaghetti. The friend was nice enough to cook dinner, and afterwards everyone is giving the usual boring thank yous and the woman walks up to her and tells her “Thanks for having me. That was some great f*ckin’ spaghetti.” I would see the truth in that sentence and blush with pride over my delicious dish.

Hmm. I’m sure I’ll regret posting this blog.

I NEVER

Sometimes I want to post something but have nothing to ramble on about. A fellow blogger thought it would be cool to have a separate "i never" blog. I'm stealing his idea for the day.

"I never" woke up in the morning on the floor of my bedroom not remembering falling off.

Birthday Surprise

Today's is J's birthday. I just had to share my latest project, these love coupons I made for him. They say "This coupon is redeemable for one___" and include coupons for a home cooked meal, dessert, get out of jail free pass, and more.

I Never

So J and I decided it would be funny to get drunk together. I know, sounds like something you would do in high school, maybe even college. Still, we wanted to see how we’d be together. (And I think we both secretly wanted to see what kind of information would escape our mouths under the influence.)

Lemon Drops it is! After a day at the parents, we stop by an Albertsons for the necessary ingredients and land at the apartment. J asks if I know of any drinking card games. No, I say, but I do know this one drinking game….

Have you ever played “I never”? It’s the best way to learn all about someone. The object is to get the other person to drink, unless of course you wish to drink yourself. Can work for or against you. You start by saying “I never” and insert something you have never done. If someone else has done this certain something, then they must drink.

For example “I’ve never been in a relationship.” Most everyone will drink, unless for some reason they haven’t been in one. If I wanted Romantic Fool (a fellow blogger) to drink, I would say “I’ve never been tattooed.” Or, if I said to J “I’ve never dated someone I went to high school with”, then he and I would both have to drink because we went to high school together.
It’s fun and yet very dangerous. Some “I nevers” that I threw at J were pretty off the wall, but on occasion he would drink to them, and I found myself squirming in my chair. He admitted later that he felt the same way. The next day I amazingly woke up without a hangover. Not really sure I want to do that again any time soon, but at least I know I can still put ‘em down like I could in college. And that if I ever want to know something about J, I can always get it out of him with a few lemon drops and the words “I never”.

Man in the House: Follow Up

Apparently, my guy is a good cook. And – ready for this girls? – he cleans up too!! (Okay guys, don’t get mad. I’m jaded from living with a father and brother who left their dirty socks everywhere and didn’t know what ‘put the cup in the dishwasher’ meant.)

I was amazed walking up to the apartment after work to see him waiting for me, a new grill sitting on the patio. T-Bones and baked potatoes. I’m not a big meat and potatoes girl, but yum! He then proceeded to pick up my plate after we were done, and >gasp< load the dishwasher. I looked him in the eyes, grabbed his face and said “Who are you?”

I suppose this proves that I may have dated some punks or mama’s boys in the past…

Later we went for a dip in the pool, and had a heart to heart. I’m still reeling from the L word conversations last weekend and he goes and throws a few words like “never before” and “a long time” at me. I almost drowned.

Oh, and the ‘boyfriend being alone in the apartment thing’ – I have a little project I’m working on for him for his b-day, so I threatened his life and told him I wouldn’t give him his presents if I found out he rummaged through my craft box. I actually checked the box before I left him in the apartment alone so that I would be able to tell if he had looked. He didn’t look.

However… while in the pool, J told me he happened across a pic of the ex and I in a drawer while looking for a koozi. I had no idea it was in there. I don’t really have anything to hide, so I guess if he was being nosy it wouldn’t really matter.

Yet, I did feel compelled to pull my journal out of it’s hiding spot that morning and take it with me to work…

Man in the House

Hmm. I left the apartment this morning with J still snuggled up in the covers. This relationship is really testing my trust and comfort levels. Right now I’m at about an 8 on the comfort level. (But don’t tell J because he thinks I’m at 6.) He has the day off so he plans to run some errands and pick up groceries for dinner – major bonus points in the bank account of love – and have dinner started when I come home. Can we say sweetheart?

Don’t get me wrong, I love being with him. We have a blast together and possess the same wacky sense of humor. We just get each other. There’s not a moment when I’m with him that I think “I’m ready to go home and be alone for a while”. However, I’m a bit on edge about having him in my apartment while I’m not there, free to roam my collections and habits and strange quirks. Yet in a way, this could totally free me of my trust issues. I hope he opens my closet and sees how I just throw shit on the floor, I hope he runs into my collection of Barry Manilow figurines. If he’s still there when I get home, I’ll be free. I’ll feel I have nothing to hide.

(And I’m very much kidding about the Barry Manilow figurines.)

Self-Absorbed

I realize blogs are basically online journals, but some of the ones I’ve been reading lately are so completely self-absorbed that I want to reach through the computer and shake the blogger.

You can really tell what a person is really like by their blog. Of course you’re going to talk about yourself mostly, its your blog, but sometimes you can go a little too far. I imagine I come off as a paranoid, maybe a little flighty, occasionally strange person, but at least I don’t have entire blogs devoted to myself and who I am and what’s so cool about me. IT’S A BLOG for pete’s sake.

Wow. That was a paragraph drenched in Haterade. And to think I woke up in the best mood this morning…

Blog Not Found

I feel a bit more secure about posting The L Word. After a few people commented that it can be found, I did some serious googling. My real name isn’t on here. I’m listed under a nickname that J doesn’t know about. He doesn’t know the name of my blog. I think I’m safe.

However, this concern for the finding of my blog has created a whole new level of paranoia for me. If you know me well, and there are a few people on here that do, then you know I’m already a worry wart. I find myself being censored now. I hate it.

The L Word

I’ve been meaning to post this all day, but its one of those things that I worry will come bite me in the ass later on. J has been asking me about reading my blog lately, not to mention he gets the biggest kick out of calling me a dork for even having a blog. Of course, I haven’t given him the URL and there are no names on here for googling, so I’m safe, right?

For the last week or two there have been moments with J that feel so perfect that a certain three word remark has come way too close to escaping my mouth. I’ve learned from past relationships that when certain feelings are expressed too quickly and openly that its often cause for disaster. I mean, we’ve been friends for over 10 years, but have only been romantically involved for a little over a month. So, I’ve held it in, bit my tongue, yet we have had a couple of conversations that have danced all around those feelings and three little words.

Saturday J finally met a good friend of mine, Lola (as seen in posts earlier in the year) and everything went amazingly well. We had lunch, margaritas, and great conversation. J had already met Michelli and her hubby, and well, Michelle can get along with a pit bull, so I wasn’t too worried about them liking each other. I really care about my friends/beau getting along with each other and seeing how well they interacted was just one more Ben Franklin in his love account for me.

My new leather sofa was delivered that day, and after Lola and her man left we snuggled down to take a nap on it, to break it in if you will. And that’s when he told me he was falling for me. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

I’ve told him that I’m so worried something is going to take him away, that something is going to happen or come between us. To me, relationships have always been like a walk in the dark in a cluttered house. After a several steps without any bumps you start to feel comfortable enough to let loose, offer up feelings, kiss a little harder, love a little stronger, start walking without your hands in front of you. And then suddenly something smacks you in the knee… a terrible moral difference, a past you can’t accept, commitment issues. I’m waiting for that something to smack me in the knee, but it hasn’t yet.

We talked about the L word again on Sunday out at the river. Hearing him express his feelings openly but with this obvious child-like vulnerability made my heart hurt.

*DJ told me I needed to post, so there, I’ve posted. Now I’m the one feeling all vulnerable… ;)

Interview Update

Well, the interview went well but was ultimately just target practice for me. Apparently they were looking for an intern or freelancer, and the latter would be great but holding two jobs down has never been easy for me. (Especially when the first one sucks all the life and energy out of you.)

What the interview did provide for me was a sense of self, a renewal of self-confidence if you will. I had forgotten what my portfolio looked like and was pleasantly surprised that it was still up to date and didn’t need tweaking. Updating my resume wasn’t so much a chore but a reminder of how far I’ve come since graduating college. Being able to talk design with two other young designers without stumbling made me feel taller, even when walking out of that gorgeous studio knowing I wasn’t going to work there.

The interview also supplied me with two other leads. I’m not expecting anything, but the practice alone is worth it.

Long Lost Friend

I found this picture on an old website of mine. Its of me and an old friend of mine (left) before a night out on the town. Sometimes I wonder how growing up can separate the best of friends.

We were friends since kindergarten, our moms taught at the same school, we were cheerleaders together, played volleyball together, made a pact to hold onto our V cards until marriage together. (Okay, so that one didn't last...)

Now, phone calls are forced, emails are superficial, silences are long. We've tried, but its not the same. I think I miss her, but I don't really know her anymore.

Sure, people change. I just can't see how change can let a 20+ year friendship fade away. Guess it will remain a mystery.

Running Over An Ex

Did I say running over? Oh, I meant to say ‘into’. Running into an ex…

Went riding at the river all day with my new beau. I’d been looking forward to it all week and expected it to be really relaxing and fun, which it was for about the first two hours. And then I ran into the ex…

After a couple hours of drinking and riding down the river, the rain started to come down hard so we all pulled under the bridge to let it pass. A small group of people came riding up out of nowhere, being friendly, asking if they could ride with us. I didn’t have to see his face to recognize his voice. Chills immediately ran up my legs. I ducked behind J.

You never think of how you’re going to react when you see your ex-fiance, you just know you don’t want to see him. I was amazed at how instant and hard the feeling was that I was going to be sick, lose my cool in front of everyone. Thankfully J was very understanding and asked if I wanted him to get me out of there. He didn’t even wait for my reply.

I couldn’t seem to get away from him though. They ended up riding behind us most of the way, and when we got off the bikes to cool off in the river, he and his wife were just yards away. When I got home later that day a friend of my sister’s, who happened to be riding with the ex, called to say they saw me out at the river. Damn. I thought I was invisible.

It was my first time at the river with J, and I’m a very sentimental person. Okay, so I’m a country girl at heart, and I’m sure I’ll get picked at for this entry, but I wanted our first play with nature to be drama-free, fun, and something we’d want to do again soon. But you know what? I’m not going to let it scare me. That’s MY territory damn it. And if he crosses my path again, I just may have to run over him…. ;)

Interview with a Designer

I’m pretending that I don’t have an interview today so I won’t freak out. An old roommate of mine deals with certain issues with denial, and I find it works in some cases, so I’ve adopted it for this situation.

The interview is for a graphic design position at a really trendy studio exactly 3/10 of mile from my apartment complex. I haven’t worked in the field of my degree in a year and a half. To be totally honest, I left the GD world for more money. Sure, money doesn’t make the world go round, but when you have to decide between Ramen noodles and chicken, it kinda seems important.

My heart is with design and all things creative. So, I’m really hoping this interview will go well, but I'm honestly thinking in terms of ‘glass half empty’, or as a good friend of mine describes it: “expecting the worst so you won’t be disappointed when that’s what is delivered to you.”

Wish me luck. ;)

Promiscuous Girl

I'm almost embarrassed to write about this, but has anyone seen this video?? Suddenly I want to be like Nelly Furtado. I don't care if it sounds like a girl crush. She's hot in this video. I want to be promiscuous too.

I'm not as much of a girly girly as my friends, but after this video was over last night I actually found myself digging in my closet, trying outfits on, playing with my makeup.

Its amazing the things that inspire you. I'm not even sure inspire is the appropriate word. No wonder teen girls are turning in their V card at such a young age. If I am moved enough to try on my slinkiest tops and dance about my apartment after watching this video, I can imagine the urge of all the 16 year olds out there to copycat their idols.

The First Rule of Fight Club...

I'm a little behind on the times, so the new guy took me to Target to buy a DVD player. Yes, I was using the old VCR until I could no longer go to the local Blockbuster and rent a VHS. They don't even keep them anymore.

After selecting a player, we browsed the DVDs for a possible buy. We pointed out the all time worst and best movies, those we had and had not seen. I mentioned Fight Club being one of my favorites.

The next day he showed up at my place with a present. Fight Club. My first DVD ever.

I need say no more.

Favorite Artist

I've been looking around for a profile picture and came across an old favorite artist of mine. Joe Sorren.
He's brilliant, and I want to be just like him when I grow up...

Text Message Whore

I’ve always liked text messaging because I’m not a phone person. If you call me, I want to hear what you have to say and get off the phone. Calling me to make plans to get together? Great. Need to tell me about something that happened in your life? Fine. If my phone rings and you are just calling to ramble and talk about nothing, I’m not game.

Which is why texting is so great. Want to meet for drinks? Sure, where? X Place, 7 o’clock Done.

Now, texting has taken on a whole new meaning to me. Sure, I goof off texting my friends every now and then, but lately when I hear that “beep”, I can’t wait to see the message awaiting.

Text messaging is great for dating. If you work an 8-10 hour day, that’s 8-10 hours I have to wait before talking to the guy. The new guy, we’ll call him J, is the best text messager EVER. I mean, he’s already a sweet talker – which if you know me well, you know I’m a sucker for – so his text messages make the day seem shorter.

This is only the second blog about him and already I’m annoyed with myself for talking too much about him. >sigh< Is it 5 o’clock yet?

Twitterpated

Monday morning I came in to work feeling really refreshed and floaty, like I was on Cloud 9. (Please excuse the cheesy reference.) After last week’s unforgettable date and my weekend at the beach, nothing could get me down. I woke up at the first sound of my alarm instead of the usual 9-10 snooze button pushes. Traffic wasn’t getting me riled up, and even when I got on the elevator full of people that stopped on every floor until mine (the 9th), I still didn’t twitch.

My officemate spoke to me twice before I noticed. After a bit of casual chit chat, she looked at me and said,

“You’re twitterpated.”

I couldn’t place the word, but it’s the cutest thing ever. Remember Bambi? When all the animals are frolicking about, and spring is in the air and they’re all in love? Thumper says they’re all twitterpated. That just makes me even more giddy.

It’s been entirely too long since I’ve felt this way. I don’t care if I’m walking around with a silly grin on my face or if I run into things because I’m daydreaming. I’m milking this for what’s it worth.

And I hope its worth something.

Trust Yourself?

Have you ever been driving along the road, say, on a really large bridge and think, “what if I lost control and ran off this bridge?” Of course with me, that begins a domino effect of thoughts running wild from that, such as: What if the car went under the river? Would I survive the impact? How would I be able to get the car window/door open, and how long could I hold my breath before I reached the surface? What’s in that nasty river?” I know. It’s enough to cause a panic attack on the bridge and lose control just in thinking about it.

Hey Michelle, will you make me shirt that says “Self Destructive” or something of that nature? Kidding…

If I admitted how often I think like this, you’d be shocked. Oh wait, I just sort of admitted it, didn’t I? I’ll be cutting vegetables and remember how my Maw Maw accidentally sliced her forearm cutting an eggplant and had to be rushed the hospital. Mind you, we are a family of free bleeders, so while it was a decent cut, it wasn’t life threatening. Still, it was an accident. So who’s to say it couldn’t happen to me? And as much as I love to cook, I’m really envious of tv celebrity chefs that chop their onions and peppers super fast, but I’ll never chance it to see if I can do the same.

It’s like that movie where a guy has to have his arm amputated and receives an arm from an inmate that was on death row. The arm causes him to do strange, evil things, and do harm to himself. Remember? No?

I’ll stop here cuz I realize I’m just digging a deeper, more ridiculous hole…

Tagged!

Damn it, another one...

I've been tagged!
My of my favorite girls, Michelle <http://funkyfreshcool.blogspot.com> has tagged me, and you know I can’t resist one of these questionnaire things!

Ok so what's in my fridge:
1. Mesquite smoked turkey
2. Grilled shrimp from last night’s din din
4. Blackberries (the newest craving)
5. Ketchup... I keep it in the fridge but I don’t know why cuz I NEVER use the stuff
6. Pickles - Michelle don’t be ashamed, I always keep ‘em and I’m NOT prego like you! ;p
7. HUGE jug of strawberry lemonade (Sugar Free Koolaid rocks!)
8. Bag of baby carrots
9. Miller Lite and a bottle of wine

My Closet:
A mix of work clothes and fun weekend/evening clothes. My shoes are usually cluttered at the bottom, but I’ve been a good girl and organized! There’s another closet for my jeans and purses too, heh heh. At the tops of both closets are craft boxes, printer & laptop boxes, and my portfolio & paintings. (I'm a box whore.)

My purse:
1. cell phone
2. checkbook, bank card & emergency CC
3. change at bottom
4. business cards
5. lipgloss & powder
6. keys with pepper spray
7. gum
8. receipts that collect until I clean the purse out
9. Sunglasses
10.Hand lotion
(I have a big purse and I’m not afraid to use it.)

My car
1. cds galore!
2. 2 more pair of sunglasses
3. a couple bags of clothes I keep meaning to drop off at the Salvation Army
4. Napkins
5. Air pressure gage

Ok, now I get to do the taggin...TAG you're it!
Tad – Mid 20’s Confusion
James – Hambone Styles

Don’t feel obligated guys… you can eliminate the purse one, lol!

Bunny Suicides

I got this from a blogsite I view pretty often. Hilarious, but if you like bunnies, don't visit the site.

http://www.popcornfor2.com/wysiwyg/bunnysuicides.htm

Set In My Ways?

Is it wrong to enjoy being alone with your daily routines?

Wednesday night I did the usual -- work till 5ish, walk/run around the lakes, and headed home to throw on a load of laundry in time to watch one of the 2 shows I keep track of, Lost. On the way home I remembered to call the guy I was seeing -- yes, 'was' as in past tense as I decided so yesterday. I secretly hoped it was too late for him to come around for dinner like we had very casually planned the evening before. (To clear myself from looking like a total bitch, he had mentioned that he may be in town on Wednesday evening, and if I wasn't working late, he'd love to grab dinner. So it really was casual. Really.)

Anyway... Country Boy answers the phone, and says he's still in town and would still love to grab a bite and see me. I'm instantly disappointed. I had really looked forward to jumping in the shower, throwing some jeans on to wash, and settling down with some dinner in front of my tv for Lost. I know, pathetic right? I can't help it -- I feel most centered and calm if I have my routines in line, and when something musses it up, I'm thrown off.

A half hour later, just as I've tossed my damp hair in a knot, he's calling to get into my gate. He gives me the usual hug and kiss on the face hello. It's then that I realize – it might not be so much about me and my ways, but probably more about the interest, or lack thereof, that I have in Country Boy. His roughness is no longer exciting to me, and what I once thought was him being mysterious is now just a clear sign of a man who is a bit self-conscious, maybe even backward, and not so experienced. I no longer see this as a fun casual relationship. I want my couch.

So I'm home after a couple of hours and snuggled in under my blanket with book in lap, texting a friend of mine about the evening. A bit later I iron a shirt, step out on the patio to sit for a while before bed and call a friend. She decidedly pinpoints me as being “set in my ways”, and I can’t help but wonder: Is that so bad??

Kissing with Lips

I should probably start this off with "Have you ever wondered if...", but I realize most people don't think about the silly stuff I do, so I'll just throw this out there.

Who decided that two human beings are to show affection by using their lips? Why don't we 'kiss' in another way, say, like the eskimos? (Though I'm not sure eskimos really kiss by rubbing noses, or if that's just something cute we learn as kids.) Are there magnets in our lips? I can understand the hugging thing, and well, I don't really need to understand the kissing thing... It's a beautiful, beautiful thing that I never get enough of.... argh! FOCUS!!! Okay, so I just wonder why you don't greet your loved one with an ear to ear, or elbow to elbow. Not as sexy, right? But think about it -- have you seen the Blue Lagoon movie? The two kids grow up on an island without adults or anyone to learn from, yet, they sure do figure things out!

Lol, okay I'm laughing at how absurd this entry is. Of course I don't need anyone to explain to me why we kiss with our mouths. (but if anyone has thought about this too, I would love to know.)

Crash Into Me

Okay, I'm in one of those moods again. Give me a candle, a glass of wine, and Dave Matthews, and I've gone all sappy and lovesick again. Damn you VH1 for reminding me of how lovely Dave is... How can lyrics so perverse be so beautiful to me?

Dave Matthews Band
Crash Into Me

You've got your ball
you've got your chain
tied to me tight
tie me up again
who's got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart
I'll beat again

Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you
I'm so lost for you

You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

Touch your lips
just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I'm bare boned and crazy
for you

When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you

In a boys dream
In a boys dream

If I've gone overboard
Then I'm begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I'm holding you so girl
close to me

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you

Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream..
In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing
but you wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I'd like to be
For you, for me,
come crash into me

Obsessive-Compulsive?

Lately I've been worried that I've somehow developed a mild case of OCD. Before retiring to bed for the night I must check all the closets in my apartment, plus check under the bed and behind the shower curtain in my bathroom.

First of all, I have no idea what I'm looking for. Am I looking to be sure there are no intruders hiding under my bed or linen closet? And secondly, if that is what I'm looking for, what exactly do I plan to do if I do find one under my bed? I have no '"plan" for what to do if a tall ski-masked man is hiding away, waiting for me to go to bed. Though I must admit, if he is in any of my closets or under my bed, it would be better for my get-away. Surely it would take the intruder a good 30 seconds to get out of my cluttered closets or out from under the bed.

I've tried numerous times to just get into bed without looking, but it bothers me to the point where I actually have to get up out of bed and turn on lights, even after I've gotten comfortable and close to sleep. Oh, and I can't just check one or two closets, it has to be all of them. If not, I'll make myself get out of bed to check the one I missed.

I can't decide if this is my extreme fear of being burglarized and attacked, or obsessive-compulsive disorder kicking in.

I might need help.

Tagged

Well, its been a long while since I've blogged. Conference season is almost over, and I deserve a blog-break, right? Of course, I'm not inspired at the moment but feel guilty enough to leave something...

I've been tagged. My friend Michelli blogged her tag, and of course I have to copy cat.


Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. Association Coordinator
2. Graphic Designer
3. Photographer
4. Illustrator for LSU Mosaic (during college)

Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Dances with Wolves
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. Girl, Interrupted
4. Monsters Inc. (I swear, the little girl is so cute and addictive to watch)

Four places you have lived:
1. Baton Rouge, LA
2. Ruston, LA
3.
4.

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Grey’s Anatomy
2. Lost
3. Meet the Barkers (there's something about Travis Barker..)
4. #1 Single

Four places you have been on vacation:
1. Florida (pretty much all of it)
2. Kentucky
3. New York
4.

Four websites I visit daily:
1. foodnetwork.com
2. prevention.com
3. friends' blogs
4. hibernia.com

Four of my favorite foods:
1. Fajitas
2. Sushi
3. Pizza
4. Edamame, lately can't get enough of the stuff -- boiling it by the pound man!

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. At home, being creative
2. At home, cat napping
3. At home, with a good book and a fire going
4. Alone, vacationing somewhere really quiet

Four things I always carry with me
1. Pony tail holder /clippee
2. lip balm/gloss
3. Debit card
4. cell phone (though I hate the damn thing)

Over Keith Urban

I just heard one of Keith Urban’s songs from his last album on the radio, and it occurred to me that I no longer have the same feelings for him as I once did. As I wrote in an earlier blog, his songs made me want to sing aloud to my officemate, and I never missed a morning without listening to one of his cds on the way to work. Maybe his new songs just don’t do it for me, or maybe when I heard he was with Nicole, suddenly his appeal lessened.

Michelli will love to hear this. She scowls at my country music, but she no longer needs to… I think the place I’m in right now in my life requires something less sappy and sweet. Think I’ll go back to my angry rock music again. Saliva, here I come.

Sigh. Its over Keith. I’m moving on.

Recycling Men

Note: The following rant is not a man bash. I completely and utterly love men, for their strength, smell, and everything else that most women love them for.

For the last two nights I've had a couple of girlfriends drop by for a visit. Our topic of discussion was men, specifically two completely unrelated men that wronged them each separately within a 48 hour time frame. While one was a new beau who had come across another women, fell in love/lust and left my friend, the other was a man who had yet again betrayed my other friend. This man was a recycled man.

Why, I asked, do women recycle men? I am also very guilty of this. We don't finish off a can of coke and drop it in the bin, then turn around and pick it up to drink out of it again. We're through with the coke, the can is empty and can no longer do anything for us. Why would we try to reconnect with an old flame over and over again, knowing that there was a (usually very good) reason for leaving him in the first place?

I'd like to put the blame for returning to ex-boyfriends on comfort in familiarity, or perhaps, loneliness. Either way, we really should take our recycleds to the bins and leave them there.

Sleeping with a Spider

Last night I was getting into bed, you know, the usual ritual I have of changing into pjs, pulling hair in bun so I won't eat it at night, pulling back covers when >squeal< I see what I think is a teeny tiny crushed spider in my bed. So, I freak and brush it off real quick before I actually inspect it, then frantically try to find it on the floor behind my head board to make sure it was a spider. Eeewww! I heard somewhere that a person swallows at least 7 bugs/spiders in their sleep in a lifetime. I try to go to sleep, but I'm all itchy and have the heebie jeebies, and get up twice more before falling asleep to turn on the light and look under the covers.

Who wants to know that kind of information anyway? (Ignore the fact that I myself am sharing this unwanted info too.) When I learned this on some random tv channel, for the next few weeks I tried desparately to position my face on my pillow to be sure that my mouth wouldn't relax in the middle of the night and leave a home for any spider. Sooner or later I gave up. I mean, I've probably already swallowed one or two so far...

Christmas for Lola & Bean

Yep, Lola gave me a head for Christmas. Now my wig has a happy home. In return, I gave Lola a welding helmet. Now she is prepared for her welding lessons.

Party at the New Place!

Party at Bean's! There's no better way to break in your new apartment than by throwing a party. Some present and a couple past PAMI girls came, some with arm candy (see Michelli's hubby) and some with enough booze to fill yo mama's liquor cabinet. After the festivities, we visited the Loser House. I'm so sick of that place...

Toot's First Sleepover

I had tons of stuff planned for the evening of Toot's first sleepover, but do you know the first thing he did when he walked in was pull me down on the ground by my arm and plop in my lap, demanding I read the new dinosaur book I bought him for his birthday?

And of course, I had hoped my nephew's first sleepover would have been a happier one, but as soon as nightfall came, he was on the phone crying "I miss you" to his Mi Mi and Paw Paw. Funny thing was, his mother was spending the night at my house too!!

Marvil's Last Day

Scary picture... November 30 was Marvil's last day at the office. We will miss her leopard jacket, her dirty mouth, and her nutty behavior.

Quote of the Day

My mother sent me this quote the other day. Hope you ladies get a good chuckle like I did!

"Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies."

(Unknown)

The Trinket Maker

I just found something I wanted to share from an old website of mine. I had 5 of my favorite things listed -- random, I know -- but one I had forgotten just how much I loved.

Click here to view the Trinket Maker

This is a beautiful little film for the hopeless romantics. Or for the aspiring film makers. Oh just watch it, and be sure to turn up the volume. Even my little nephew loves it. When he first started getting haircuts, this was the only thing that would take his attention away and keep him from screaming and bucking with the scissors so close to his head. (Which to me seems a pretty reasonable thing to scream about.)

Enjoy!

The People Upstairs

When I was younger, I used to fantasize about people living in my family's attic. I guess this is right along the lines of believing your stuffed animals held conversations and danced around when you were out of your room. (Which I still sometimes wonder about...)

Most kids would be terrified by this idea, but I was obsessed about it for a little while, thinking maybe this homeless man lived in my attic where all my old clothes, toys, and our Christmas tree rested. It would be hot up there in the summers, and with us home from school during the day with my school teacher mother, how would he be able to come down and take a break from the heat? Surely he would pass out during the noon hour. Of course he would have plenty of clothing to snuggle in when the winters came, but our winters never really call for heavy coats anyway.

And what did he do up there all day anyway? What grown man plays with kids old toys? Then I'd remember that my parents had encyclopedias up there. With all that knowledge, why didn't he just go out and impress some bigwig and get a job, then he wouldn't have to live in my attic anymore. But I really didn't mind...

The point of this rambling -- I had the most restless night last night. I woke up once and heard this fast walking coming from above. Ever wake up but your eyes are still closed? I tend to do that often and its kinda freaky. (Now I got you thinking about whether you have or not, right?) Anyway, I was suddenly displaced and back at my parents house and that was the first thing I thought of. If there were a man living in my attic when I was younger, that's exactly what it would sound like.

Marvil's Night Out

I don't know why we insist on taking the same head shots every time we go out...

Marvil's babysitter was finally released from prison, so we were able to take her out for a night on the town. Marvil's one hot mama!

Halloween

Lola, Big Daddy and J went to our favorite hot spot, the Inferno, for drinks and dancing. We brought our friend Cane back with us before crashing for the night.

I would think it's obvious what I was dressed as for Halloween, but I can't tell you how many people asked if I was a flasher. Do I look like a flasher?? I think not. By the way, that's NOT my cigarette! Kids, smoking is bad. This photo was taken out of peer pressure to look like the olden day detectives, you know, the ones lighting cigs in dark alleys?

And that's my friend MD dressed as the Crow (in case you didn't see the movie). Hot pants...