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...
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!!
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.
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)
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!
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.
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!
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...
I recently rediscovered country music. This obsession has turned into a lifestyle for me which I find highly disturbing. Before getting ready for work I must eat my cereal watching CMT as Keith Urban sings "Memories of Us" to me. The tv stays on this channel at a higher volume while I continue to get ready for work.
If I'm in the middle of a call at work and "my song" comes on the radio, I find a way to get off the phone so I won't miss it. If I am merely working on something, I have to put my pen down or stop typing so I won't ruin it. I beg my officemate to let me sing the newest Rascal Flatts song to her.
Just recently my roommate brought home a cowboy hat for me, and I actually wore it out (see below). All of my car stations are tuned in to country. I compare every man to Keith, and now sign my emails Jill Urban.
I could go on for hours, but this would only show how unhealthy my obsession is. Does anyone have an obsession of this nature? Please share -- I need to feel sane again...
Should I even admit that we went to Spanky's this weekend? We were feeling high class, so we thought it would be appropriate. And of course, what else would you have for dessert after a night of lemon drops & beer other than South Kumfort? (location, location, location)
That's Ben and Lola at Spanky's -- isn't Ben cute? He's feeling a bit left out since he was the DD. Obviously, Chris, aka Happy Hands, wasn't our chauffeur for the night. He partied a little too hard and decided it was just too much to stand while taking a smoke break. When we found him, his cigarette was still lit in his hand...
Yep. Lola and I are getting very good at taking our own pictures. The thing is, you can never see what's going on around us. In this picture, that happens to be nothing. This photo was taken before a night out on the town, brought to you by several lemon drop martinis. Just before this we were served dinner by a handsome waiter by the name of Efon. Or was it Urnon? Oh well, it doesn't matter because we renamed him Tony.
Lola and I were able to visit New Orleans one last time before Hurricane Katrina took her away. We went for a 3 day host program for work, which left me with moments I'll never forget... and some I wish I could.
I'd like to dedicate this blog to Bob, who we met in some bar (I can't remember the name of) on Bourbon Street. I hope you have a great marriage. Oh, and to Mike as well, who showed us that even if you wear your shirt unbuttoned with your hairy chest exposed, you can still be cool. Eeehaw! Last but not least, to Chris, who brought back the words "fly" and "slammin" as adjectives for women's faces, which I now use frequently in my vocabulary. Thanks guys --without you, the influence of alcohol, and mouthy turban-wearing cabbies, this last night in New Orleans would not have been as slammin.
