Sometimes when I don't know what to write about...

I don't write about anything.

 I just kinda look at my blog languish, and think, "but my life is so interesting! I went to Wango Tango!(don't ask...or, don't ask YET), my family is ridiculous!, my job is driving me crazy!" But, in reality, I'm also super busy. THANK GOD (no, really) for my spring semester being over. Homework, and studying, and worrying about passing Managerial Accounting was keeping me extremely busy.

And then I don't have time to write all of the things that I want to write down, when I want to write them down. And then they kind of become fleeting thoughts:

I was in Vegas this weekend, and Monday when I should have been getting up and getting ready to flee that place, I was watching Maury. Also known as The New Jerry. Does Jerry Springer even still come on television? WHY DO THESE PEOPLE ON MAURY ALWAYS LOOK SO SURPRISED THEY GOT SOMEBODY PREGNANT? DO THEY NOT KNOW HOW SEX WITHOUT CONDOMS WORK?! Is Maury single handedly keeping that DNA place in business with all his shows about baby daddies?


My friends and I always take the most ridiculous pictures. This Vegas trip was no exception. I really hope she frames this and hangs it in the living room.


I had no idea that I was going to like Lady Gaga.Or T-Pain. Turns out T-Pain puts on a REALLY GOOD SHOW. 


Why do I always have to convince people that I have a son that's 21 years old? Who lies about that?! Related: YES. I know I look young. 


You know it's bad when I say "I'm going to Vegas" and the girl who does my nails says AGAIN? WTF, dude? I've only gone ONCE this year.


It SO SUCKS that I didn't get to go to Okinawa.


I love carpooling/saving gas money/ getting free stuff from work, I sometimes hate my carpool partner, aka Mr. Toad.


See what I mean? These random thoughts could totally be blog posts. Maybe I'll put all of these random thoughts into a hat and pick one.

People do that right?

Well it IS February

Every February I e-mail my co-workers a BLACK HISTORY FACT OF THE DAY. I feel like I should say it in all caps, so that it can look important. I don't remember how it started. Probably because I enjoy doing things people don't expect. Whatever. The point is that I send them. Regardless of how I feel about Black History Month. Which, don't get me started. Anyways, these days my sissie and I split the duties of sharing ::cue announcer voice:: MOMENTS IN BLACK HISTORY-Ry-ry (Yes, I kinda feel like it should have an echo, ya dig?) 

But yesterday started my downhill slide into sickness. I'm not sure that I should be allowed to send e-mails that will be shared with her fancy co-workers when clearly I AM NOT WELL. Don't believe me? I present, without further comment, yesterday's Black History fact which was alternatively titled: My love/hate relationship with Disney:

(Howdy. I’ll lobbing you all a gimme, because I’m starting to feel as though I’m being attacked by cooties. The bad kind. But I’m at work – I AM NOT CONTAGIOUS, and since I forgot the fact that I *actually* wanted to use, please to enjoy this one. Sissie – Don’t you use my fact tomorrow. LOL)

You know how when you feel sick, and you just wanna curl up in your bed with hot cocoa in your comfy jimmies jammies (DAMN YOU AUTO-CORRECT. I said JAMMIES, NOT JIMMIES. I can’t imagine that wearing sprinkles is in any way comfortable), and maybe watch craptastic television while intermittently feeling sorry for yourself, and sleeping, and drinking water (because being hydrated is important, especially when you’re sick!). Me personally? I like to watch movies. Disney movies to be exact. My favorite is actually Aladdin (Prince Ali, fabulous he, Ali Ababwa!), which I could watch a bajillion times. And I have a love/hate relationship with both the Lion King and the Jungle Book. I mean, clearly both movies are about black people, except the black people are ANIMALS and…*cough* sorry. I’m getting off my soap box RIGHT NOW.

ANYWAYS...And Beauty and the Beast. I mean, Disney makes the best princess movies, you guys. Pocahontas not withstanding. Colors of the wind. Hmph.

Still though. Kinda hard to believe that it took Disney until 2009 to create the first African American Disney Princess (The Frog Princess: Tiana. Seriously though. What’s up with the animal references?)

And there you go! Today’s fact buried in my random ramblings about Disney and that fact that even the auto-correct on my Outlook is doing it wrong.

Talk about Mission Impossible..

Ever have one of those bills that you always seems to get paid a couple of days late? I do. It's my cable bill. Which, I guess it kinda funny because if my cable ever got cut off I would totally go apeshit. ASIDE from being an internet junkie, it's bundled, so I'd be sitting here with no internet, no TV and nobody to call (cell phone? Who uses their cell phone to make CALLS?)

Anyways, I've tried getting them to change it so that it would be easier for me to pay, but. Whatever. Yeah. I could totally pay this early, but, really no I can't. So. Late. But I *DO* pay it. So there's that.

So. Bill. Came in the mail yesterday. I've already set up my payment, but then I thought...you should call them and tell them it's going to be paid Friday. So, I call the 800number. Aaaannnnd....cue the ridiculousness:

TW*: Hi, your bill is late. So don't even think about pay-per-view or ordering a special event.

Me:...

TW: So. How are you going to pay your bill? Credit card, check? I'll hold on while you get me my money, bitch.

Me:...WTF? Umm...Customer Service? Operator?

Hey...In case you didn't know...THIS CALL WAS COMPLETELY AUTOMATED. I NEVER SPOKE TO A REAL PERSON.

TW: Sorry, I didn't understand. Since your bill is late AND you apparently DON'T speak English, let me make this simple. Press 1 for credit card, 2 for check and 3 for some other way to pay. 'Cause you ARE going to pay me before this call is done.

Me: No. Help? Customer Service? ROEIODJFSDKUEYYEGIFH...Operator? How the fuck do I get to a real person?

TW: Let's try this again: SAY 1 for credit card. SAY or press 2 for check. GIVE. ME. SOME. MONEY.

Me:

TW: Fine. If there's something else you want, press 8.

Me: 8

TW: Seriously though, if you talk to a person to pay your bill, we're going to charge you $5.

Me: The fuck? Transfer me already.

TW: FINE, THEN. BUT. If you just want an extension so you can pay us later..press 5.

Me: 5.

TW: Okay, you have until Decem-

Me: *click*

I don't care anymore. Apparently, I have more time than I need. Bill is still getting paid Friday, so... Mission Accomplished?

*OBVIOUSLY, these weren't their exact words, but umm...seriously? I think this was more or less what they were trying to say. I'm SURE they have their reasons for automating;  clearing making it mission impossible to speak to an actual HUMAN must have been at the top of that list.

I get it. You want to get paid. And surprisingly, I want to pay you. But, the strong arm tactics? The you-can't-do-anything-until-you-pay-your-bill-not-even-talk-to-a-person behavior? TOO FAR. I know you think that I'm too cheap/lazy/dependent on you to change services so you can just treat me any ol' kind of way, except. I'M NOT. Get it together, Time Warner, you are a CUSTOMER SERVICE ORIENTED enterprise. How about you act like it?

A Rhetorical Question

So. Say you are invited to a friend’s party. An 80’s vs. 90’s party where pretty much EVERYBODY has gotten into flashback spirit. There are bodysuits, pretty in pink type prom dresses, and even big gold chains. Didn’t even hear a song older than 1999. And as a girl, whose teen years were in the 80’s and partied in the 90’s, *I* would know. Even Humpty Hump was there! (Okay, maybe not the REAL humpty…but a reasonable facsimile)


A good time was had by ALL y’all. I just have one question



@dancanielle "The Bomb" Photbomber



Is it rude to photobomb Humpty when he’s mugging for the camera?

I saw this picture on FB and I couldn’t resist tagging her because REALLY? That is just TOO funny.

You know what's awesome?

When you start blogging because you have so much to say and nobody to say it to, so you find a really nifty space to say and be whoever you want...And you find an awesome community of bloggers who talk you into signing up for twitter because OH MY GAH!! All the cool kids are doing it and you meet a bunch MORE cool blogger types. AND THEN, you go to the #VegasBirthdayBash where VDog's first impression of  you is you drunk off your ass and shaking it in the Planet Hollywood elevators.

And she invites you to come blog at her place anyways.




I didn't write HERE, because I wrote over there. C'mon over and visit me. Because I *am* the kinda broad who will invite other people to come and kick it at somebody elses house.

Miscellaneous Meanderings

I'd like to say that I've been busy. But really? I haven't. I just haven't been blogging. Oh, hello...I'm lazy. I guess, to be fair, The Man spent all of last week in the hospital, so I was alternately quietly freaking out, hanging out in his hospital room, working Luckily...I work at a hospital. So I would take my "15 minute break" (that was really closer to 30 but who's counting because a) my boss doesn't pay me too much attention and b) I wish somebody WOULD act like they don't understand me spending my free -and some not so free- time with my husband) in his hospital room.

I had plenty of time to blog especially since I was just sitting there staring at him sleep. But really I was just sitting there thinking. Of what, you wonder? Funny you should ask.

I was thinking that I need to hide my SIL's status update on FaceBook. I mean, seriously? Your status update says that Tears are nothing but LIQUID prayers...I am clearly not deep enough appreciate that. And your updates are more depressing than they are uplifting, if that is in fact what you're going for. Either way, I can't take it and I think I just need to make sure I can no longer see your depressing ass I AM GOING THROUGH A THANG-type status updates.

And since it wouldn't be in my best interest to unfriend "in-laws" who I added in a moment of panic because how do you say no to a perfect stranger who is related to me by marriage? Even though they know they don't know me because THEY live in Florida and have never been to California, but a) I have the same last name and b) I'm a friend of a relative that you *DO* know so you sent a friend request...I'm hiding you too. Because I don't know you. Or your status updates are super annoying and/or hypocritical. Please don't preach to me in one status update and cuss out somebody in the next one. Just...stop.
Speaking of cleaning house...I cleaned my house. And now my hands are peeling so bad that I ...well, I can't think of anything gross enough to describe what they look like except shedding snakes and I like to think that I'm LOSING weight and not gaining so much that I had to grow out of my skin... So let's just say that I'm taking this as a sign I should stop cleaning.

Related to absolutely nothing in the post, but still on my mind...is this cake. My girl friend went to a baby shower where they served this cake:

Pretty right? I mean, I'll admit it took serious skill to create this masterpiece...but uhh.. there's no way I'd be able to eat that cake without being grossed out. Yeah, yeah... I know it's just cake. But it immediately made me think of that Hunter's Souffle on True Blood.. 'Member? (Because I'm just going to ASSUME that you all were watching True Blood, because WHO is not watching True Blood) No, you don't 'member?

Yes. I know that I'm crazy. Still, though. I advised her to pass on the cake.

Okay, that's all I got. So, ummm... please enjoy. But stay away from the baby cakes.

What I do when I miss phone calls

...from people who are calling me from another freakin' country.

I send e-mails.

Hey, Girlie!

1. Missed you, again! Drat. I tried to pick up my phone and hit END instead of TALK, and since you didn’t call back….
2. I went to my cousin's birthday dinner where this happened.
3. In other news, I’m a CONE and my sister, an hourglass (duh.)
4. I guess the working out is working because
• I look slimmer in my clothes, but
• Because I’m PMS’ing I’ve been eating lots of junk all weekend and so,
• The numbers on the scale have NOT moved at all, except up, BUT
• I’m sure at the end of my cycle, they will have gone down significantly
5. Today is The Man's Bday, so I “wished him a happy birthday” instead of going to the gym, which also made me late for work. 
6. I went to Mo’s house this weekend, where she gave the Brat a shit ton of clothes from her niece who apparently only wears things once or twice before moving on to new clothes.
• Also WTF is up with skirts so tiny that I'm pretty sure they cover NOTHING?! If you need to wear leggings under them to make sure your twat isn't being exposed, what you really need is a LONGER SKIRT. #justsayin
• And yes, you know I vetoed any item that made the baby's ass hang out.
• Not that I had to because Mo was already all "ix-nay on the ooty-bay orts-shay"
7. While I was there I realized the Brat is REALLY TINY because after eating 4 slices of pizza and mojo potatoes, she tried on a pair of size 0 shorts OVER HER JEANS  and they fit (I also realized that I hate Brat a little bit…LOL).

Soo, how was your weekend? How's the hubs? Did he get to see the Ravens get with the Pats?

And yes, I really did send out this e-mail (added a few things, but she'll visit here and she'll recognize her e-mail). So. How was YOUR weekend? Do anything interesting?

All these things that I have learned

#1. After years of hating the texture of my hair...I. LOVE. MY. HAIR.

(me. getting ready for the U2 concert.)

When I was younger (MUCH younger) I would be jealous of the girls who's hair was more fine (read: "good hair") because OMG is my hair thick and a big giant pain in the ass to maintain, and I couldn't just wet it and throw it into a ponytail, it required gel and maybe a clip and DEFINITELY a scarf. And please believe that I would throw down over somebody getting water in my hair if I hadn't planned to get wet because now my hair was all jacked up ESPECIALLY if I didn't have braids a perm a plan B.

Anyways. I don't feel like that anymore. As my hairdresser likes to say, there is no such thing as good/bad hair --only healthy and not healthy. And my healthy, thick hair? Is pretty hot.

#2 on the list of things that I've learned: If I'm going to indulge in my enjoyment in completely inappropriate movie material, I should leave The Man out of it. I thought that he was completely aware of my inner 14 year old boy when it comes to movie watching. But apparently, even *I* can go too far. This weekend I asked him if we could watch one of my blockbuster online flicks that I got. Team America: World Police (fuck yeah!) He gave me look like I had either impressed him OR that his opinion of me had lowered several notches. I'm still not sure which. And I don't think he is either.

#3. If I have a choice between doing anything and going to see my most favorite-ist band in the world...? I'm never, ever going choose the other thing. Last night I went to VH1 Storytellers with the Foo Fighters. It was the most fun EVAR. Today, I am exhausted, but still abuzz from last night. Also? Every time I see them in concert - which, to date has been 14 times - I fall in love some more.

#3.5. I'm a really lucky Lady to have a husband who puts up with my ridiculous fangirl-ness.

#4. If I'm gonna be PMSing...watching sad tear-jerker type movies. Is a bad idea. Because once the tears stop, they can't always be turned off.

Because I know all about fashion

I was talking to my sister the other while I was on the way to work (YES, I was totally wearing my earpiece. It’s the LAW) and while I was sitting at a light, this guy is crossing the street walking his daughter (?) to school. The girl was in her school uniform with the cutest pink backpack I ever did see and the guy was in a uniform, of sorts. A wife beater and jeans hanging down to his knees. It aggravated me to the point that I completely veered off topic and started a tirade. I think that this whole saggy pants thing has gone too far. There. I said it.

It may be that I’m used to STANDARDS (very rarely will you see a military guy sagging something ridiculous, even in civilian clothes – you do NOT want to get caught out looking like a thug by your commanding officer at the mall), or that I’m OLD, or old fashioned, you can even say that I’m not hip. But seriously. WHAT. THE. FUCK?

Back when I was a teenager (yeah, all the old people start their tirades like this, don’t they?), my boyfriend wore tapered khakis (new school skinny jeans. Ahem. All things old are new again). Yes, I keep it old school. And YES, there was a teeny bit of sag. I mean, who wants to wear DAD JEANS?

Now I have to see your WHOLE ASS? WTF is that about? Why is that supposed to be cute? I thought we were in agreement people. I thought crack (ass crack, crack pipe, ALL CRACK) was wack. ‘Member? Whitney Houston said? Not only do I have to see your raggedy draws, I have to watch you duck walk across the street because your pants are so down around your knees that the belt you have on (why are you even wearing a belt?!) is completely superfluous and the only way you can keep your pants from falling around your ankles is to walk like that, while trying to hold up your pants with one hand. THAT? Is not sexy.

It also makes me want to cause you a thousand years of pain.

So I guess it’s lucky for me that 1) I’m married 2) I’m CLEARLY not the kind of person these boys (because I am unable to call you a man when you are dressed this way) are trying to attract and 3) I STILL don’t have a camera. Because I totally would have been taking pictures of all the ridiculousness that I’ve seen over the last couple of days.

Although I will say that this has motivated me to go out and get one, this weekend. (No, really. I’m going to get a camera. For real this time)

I've got mail

I have several thousand e-mail addresses. The one that I've had since I've had a computer (an AOL e-mail address if you can believe it). I keep it so that people who have lost touch with me will always have a way to find me. I always check it, and it's also generally the one that family uses. A Yahoo one that I use for "other stuff": paypal, promotional e-mails for stuff like RueLaLa, discount hotel offers to Vegas (please stop it. I can't afford to go back yet and all these super discounted rates are mocking me. MOCKING ME), concert information - because I go to a LOT of concerts, it's also linked to my Facebook, and...back in the day..I even got porn to that e-mail address. Long Story. I have an "I'm a professional" e-mail address, a work e-mail that I sometimes, okay...OFTEN get personal e-mails sent to, and the one for here: youbethekettle (at) gmail.com.

I got a lot of fucking e-mail addresses. But, I'm going to talk about my yahoo one. Why? Because it's becoming the bane of my freakin' existence right now. I've never had so much mail in my entire life. This yahoo one... generally, if I sign up for something, that's the one I use. Unless I'm mad at The Man. Then I use his. I know. Fuckery at it's finest. But at least he knows my horoscope, and when Tom Jones is going to be in concert. Moving on. I signed up for Facebook on a fluke. Because a friend of mine has all of his pictures there, and I couldn't see them until I signed up.

ANYWAYS, for a long while, I never used it. Then my sister was all "Hey, DINOSAUR, get with it and get on Facebook." Which, SURPRISE! I was already on but not using. So then I'd posted an update:

I signed up for a fantasy football league. I have no idea what I'm doing and draft day is Sunday. Suggestions, comments...HELP?
Yesterday at 8:54am · via iGoogle Gadget · Comment · Like · Remove

Let the crap-tastic amount of e-mails begin: "...XXX commented on your status..." Heaven forbid that you mess around and comment on somebody ELSE'S status. Because then? You're getting eleventy thousand emails every time ANYBODY comments "..xxx also commented on JoeBlow's status". And I don't even know these people, more importantly could care less what they think. More to the point, I would prefer not to get an e-mail everytime somebody says BOO.

These e-mails add up. Facebook will send you e-mails if somebody:

• sends a message
• adds me as a friend/ confirms request
• posts on my wall
• pokes me
• tags me in a photo
• tags one of MY photos
• coments on my photos
• comments AFTER me on a random photo
• leaves a wall comment
• comments AFTER me on somebody ELSE'S wall story
• sent me an drink, or a smile, or a chug it request, or a sorority life thingamajig
• does anything at all to me
• the list goes on and on....

My e-mail was blowin' up y'all...and not in the good way. In the "Fuckin' A...what the hell is all this shit?!" way. I was deleting messages so fast that I was actually MISSING the stuff I wanted to read. Don't you hate that? You're all in the zone and before you know it, you've deleted that pre-sale info about NIN's final tour and you threw it in the trash because you thought it was another g.d. facebook message?

So. I went back and changed everything. Unchecked it ALL. I don't want y'all sending me e-mails about anything. I will check my own friends requests, and respond to those people I want to respond to and ignore everything else (No more pillow fights, food flings, what kind of rock star am I, no kisses, no hugs...just...NO)

I can just feel my aggravation ease now that I am no longer receiving crazy amounts of e-mail. Well... I mean I *STILL* receive crazy amounts of e-mail, just...about stuff I care about. Like $35/night room rates in Vegas, and pre-sale info for various bands (speaking of...WTF Paramore?! I can't/won't take a 13 year old girl to a concert on a THURSDAY, she's got school on Friday), and upcoming boutiques. Even though I'm sort of on a haitus for shopping/concert going, I still wanna know what's going on in the world of people who go places and people who do stuff.

So I'll content myself with reading e-mails from cousins, of the next 9West sale, jokes from long lost friends, and comments from you.

YES, *YOU*. I see you reading this. Now, pop on in the comments and say "hey!"

WTF Wednesdays

I have a LOT going on. Really. So instead of trying to format it into a bunch of different posts, I’m just going to verbally vomit it all RIGHT here:

There's a guy in my Speech class, who, so far, has had a black eye for every speech he's given. WTH is THAT all about?

Every time I see a clip of a concert in my Music Appreciation class, I want to applaud. EVERY.TIME.

My instructor for Speech was in a ballooning accident in Turkey. (Yeah, WTF?!) So for the FIRST 3 weeks of class we had some random teacher and Monday we got the instructor we're going to have for the LAST 3 weeks of class. He's gorgeous. Now, the most shy girl in the class...is going ALL out to get his attention. Not working though. I have a feeling the instructor doesn't want to get arrested on statutory rape charges (the girl is like 16...REALLY).

I have NO idea why I think this is so funny:

Thanks Tira. You suck. You know you do.

Instead of buying my nephew a gift, I made him a cake. (He loves his Uncle, and his uncle looooves the Marine Corps)

Sometimes, I even impress myself.

I took my daughter to see the midnight showing of Harry Potter. We sat in the chair the same way, the screamed at the same times and we found the same things hilariously funny. We also had the same random thought. I don't spend enough time with her. That's going to change.

I ran into my old boss while I was walking around campus. He said he recognized me or rather... he said, "I'd know that ass anywhere"

The Boy, who taught himself to play the guitar is performing in a "Battle of The Bands". I am equally impressed and horrified. (THIS one deserves it's own post. It's coming.)

I am sleepy. Once I get some solid sleep (and come back from my mini-vacation - NO, I still don't have a camera BUT I replaced the battery on my phone, so be prepared for drunken twitpicking and twittering), I will be ready to post something that doesn't resemble brain stew. Until then....Please to enjoy.

The one where I tell you where to go

So even though I post to my OWN blog with stunning irregularity, I signed up to be a guest poster over at The Atomic Mom. Please to enjoy.

It's kinda nice over there, they've got cookies.

Because I'm all about striking up conversation

This weekend (again) I went to the So Cal Renaissance Pleasure faire. As soon as my lazy friends send me pictures, I promise that I will post a REAL story all about the fun and good times. Yes, I know that I have plenty of nerve calling my friends LAZY when I refuse to go out and buy a damn camera and really, I’m waiting on The Man to go out & get me the digital camera I’ve been begging for about a month now. But I digress.

I think it is my fate in life to have completely ridiculous conversations with famous people.

As we were leaving the faire, I decided to make one more stop to the Privy because a) I had a few hard ciders and b) I have the bladder the size of a pea. I was almost ran over by a little boy in an Ironman costume. Apparently, I am not the only one – with the tiny bladder that is. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one drinking, but I’m just going to assume the little boy was not drunk.

ANYWHOOTER, I’m attempting to get all my skirts up because port-a-potty’s are gross when the kid runs into the potty next to me.

Ironman: Oh no…OH NO!! It’s too late
Helpful maiden: Are you okay?
Ironman: NO! Where’s my mommy?
HM: You need me to find her for you?
Ironman: Yes. Her name is *Ironman’s Mom*

Helpful maiden is wandering around the eating area calling for Ironman’s mom. Me? I’m trying not to drop my purse and fan into the toilet and get my skirts down. But when I come out, helpful maiden STILL was yelling for Ironman’s Mom.

After I WASH MY HANDS (because Ren Faire or not..handwashing is important) and see that helpful maiden is still wandering the eating area, I remember that I saw Ironman’s Mom sitting on a bale of hay. I walk over, and who do I spy sitting with Ironman’s Mom?



Me: Hi, are you Ironman’s Mom?
IM: Yes.
Me: Errr…Ironman needs you in the privvies.
IM: …?
Me: I think he had an accident. I was in the privvy next to him. Also, please let helpful maiden know that you are Ironman’s Mom. She’s been screaming your name for like, 5 minutes. (because I TOTALLY say, *like*, *totally* AND *awesome*. My college education, y’all. Hard at work)
IM: (exit, stage right)

As I’m walking away thinking WOW, that chaka khan sure is pretty up close and she’s not wearing any make-up and freckles, she has freckles…

CK: Thanks. How did you know it was her?
Me: Because I saw him (YOU) when I walked over. Good thing, since….
CK: What happened?
Me: (see 1st recap)
CK: Wow.
Me: Yeah, helpful maiden would not have known to come all the way over here looking for you.
CK: Thanks again


My inside thought…only I would meet a star when I’m NOT at work, so I can totally talk about it, but then I have to tell people that I had a conversation with chaka khan about her friend’s son who had a meltdown in a port-a-potty and peed on himself. Life does not get better than this.

I can't afford it

Ticket scalpers, ticket scalpers
Why are you so mean?
You take $50 tickets
And price them so obscene

I just wanna see my favorite band
Sing my favorite songs
I don’t want triple-priced
Does that make me so wrong?

But no!
$100, $200 to $800 or more
I’d need a second job
Probably as the corner whore
(after all…they make pretty decent money and no taxes)

If you’d give real fans a chance
To buy some decent seats
Ticketmonster is bad enough
With crazy “convenience” fees

Do you have to get in on the action?
Selling out concerts super fast…
YOU jack the prices crazy high
While real fans take it up the ass

So F.U. ticket scalper
For the things you do
To keep the prices high
Now….do you have tickets for U2?

Can I be late to my own party?

So it turns out this is my 103rd post. Apparently, while I was (as usual) not paying attention, I blew right past my 100th post. No big huge announcement, no confetti came shooting out of my computer or nuthin’. You’d think that since it’s such a big deal they’d a threw me a party or something. I guess this is the equivalent of turning 21 in the blogging world. I’M A BIG GIRL NOW bloggy friends. I’ve made it past the 100th mark.

Anyways, I heard the accepted thing is 100 things about me, but uh…I’m not that interesting. So how about some random junk?

1. I got my first tattoo when I was 18. I worked in Hollywood as a telemarketer, and one day, on my way to my car, I stopped in and got a tattoo of The Man's name (no, we weren’t married yet -He in turn, went out and got my name tattooed across his heart. True Love. ). That tattoo shop had a GINORMOUS live snake crawling around. I never told my Mom. She found out a year later when went shopping and I was trying on clothes.

2. I have a (sub)total of five tattoos. 2 on the left, 2 on the right and one in the middle. I didn't want to be heavier with more ink on one side.

I don't have a picture of the one on my shoulder. But I've got one there too. And I want 2 more.

3. When I married The Man, I had no idea that I was signing up for the Marine Corps too. I've had to get up at 3AM to take him down to formations, my presence is required at Formal functions, I've moved almost everywhere the Man was (my favorite? Honolulu), I was his support when he was overseas and I even attended most of his re-enlistment ceremonies.

4. I love to go to Vegas. I’m going this weekend. And then, in a few months, I’m going back for a concert.

5. Concerts in Vegas are the best.

6. This year I already have tickets for No Doubt and Depeche Mode. I’m going to sell my youngest child for U2 tickets, or maybe Prince if he actually has concert dates and not random places where I can’t see him because I don’t have enough time to make arrangements. (I’m still a little bitter at his Oscar after-party. Really? What about your fans who DON’T live in Hollywood? I’m good, but even I don’t fight the Oscar traffic)

7. I get up to go to gym at 4:30-5ish. Depends on how long I stumble around trying to wake up.

8. I go to bed early...like “I’m 90 years old” early. I frequently fall asleep before the Brat; whose bedtime is official bedtime is 9PM. I’m sure she sometimes stays up later, but she just better hope I don’t wake up and find her still awake.

9.I own this shirt.
I totally believe it.

10. I’ve never danced with the devil in the pale moonlight (Name that movie quote!) But I once danced with a guy who 2 months later murdered his girlfriend & then had a stand off with the police in a cemetery. (I was completely surprised that he was crazy..he seemed so normal)

11. My husband only believes 2/3 of the things I tell him.

12. Maybe because 1/3 of the stuff I tell him is bullshit.

13. Maybe not.

14. I’m dying to go to Spain, Italy & France. But my friend lives in Okinawa, so I’m going to go crash on her couch and probably cook, because I don’t like Japanese food. (But I will probably love sightseeing. Please pencil me in for next summer!) I’ll probably still make it to Spain and Italy AND France.

15. I’m an ultra-picky eater raising human garbage disposals. I don’t like lettuce or nuts and I won’t eat anything I haven’t smelled first. My kids eat almost everything. (The Boy doesn’t like potatoes (weird, right?) not even fries and The Brat won’t drink milk. But she loves yogurt AND cheese)

16. I’m also an inappropriate laugher. I once started laughing uncontrollably at my god-daughters baptism. I couldn’t stop even though my husband was squeezing my hand so tight I almost lost feeling in it (His “gentle reminder” to stop that g.d. laughing. It didn't work)

17. I have a pretty awesome shoe collection. Unfortunately I can’t wear most of them because of an accident that crippled me, and so I am wearing flats until my foot is fully healed. (Hurry up, foot! I wanna buy me some new shoes)

I didn’t number this one because how can you have a random post with an even number. If I ever decide to write some MORE random junk (yah, like everything I write is not random), then I guess I can start at 18. Unless I don’t feel like it. Then you’ll have to count however many more random things I write and add 17.

Did I mention I was goin’ to Vegas? ‘Cause I am. Carry on.

Not really a fan

Dear Beyonce,

I'm going to be honest. I don't like you very much, but mostly because you're EVERYWHERE. I don't know why you have to be in every other commercial: Loreal, American Express. You're a pretty good singer. Really. I even paid too much money to take The Brat to see you in your "kicking Destiny's Child to the curb Final Tour". Sorry, I digress. I've come to a sort of stalemate. I won't change the radio station should you happen to come on (but let's face it, you very RARELY never come on my local rock station, and I very rarely listen to the R & B station).

MOVING ON..This weekend, I was at my SIL's house (for my niece's sleepover, and OMG those kids were some kind of hoochie and sassy and if any of the brat's friends had been all smart-mouthed like those girls I'd probably been writing this froma jail cell for child abuse. Sorry. Digressing again) and she had me watch your Diva video. Actually, I watched a Diva video of Sasha Fierce. Really. Bey? I feel I can shorten your name because I've seen you practically naked, and that should allow me not to stand on ceremony.

What the hell is with the leotards? Seriously. We get it already. You're sexy. You're body is hot shit. Of all the things you could have worn to get your point across THAT is what you chose? I don't understand. You've got stylists galore (sidenote: While it's not nice to talk about somebody's mama....REALLY? Your mom's out to get you. That dress is ugly) And quite frankly, you are sexier here, here AND here.

And Also, since I'm letting it all hang out...that leotard? It's been done already. Just recently. I'm sure being all about music and fashion and whatnot you already know that. But in case you didn't:

You should have left her alone in her leotard trend...but you didn't Bey..err Sasha...errr...whoever you are. Please stop. Before it gets out of hand.

Or is it already to late?

Signed,

Is tired of looking at crotches that don't have dollar bills stuffed in them.

Bullseye!

Word on the street is that Auds over at Barking Mad is having a give away. $250 Target gift card. Even though I firmly believe that Target is the devil. I'm totally in. Because? Even though I know Target is bad news, I still love it so much. (Where else can I get cute knee socks AND books plus maybe my favorite soap ever?) And if I

All she wants is to see your favorite posts. She says she wants a date to get to know us better and what better way that for us to read some of our favorites. So here you go. All about me, in a handful of posts...


Read in awe, as I show you my .....Marriage in Real Life and talk about My awesome kids.
Be prepared to back away slowly, as I discuss my Conspiracy Theories.
Did I ever tell you about the time where I decided to take over the world?
Or maybe to really know me, you should read about my weird phobias or perhaps you would enjoy a story about The generally ridiculous way I live my life?

So there. She asked for some of my favorite posts and there they are. A Short & sweet post. Kind of like me. Well. Short, like me. Sweet? Not so much.

Monday Meanderings

Last night I went to the Lakers game.

(Picture of the Staples Center taken on my cheezy lil' cell phone)

Every time that Kobe went up to shoot free throws, everybody started saying “M.V.P” except the kid behind me. Hey kid, that’s MVP, not NVP. Also, somehow…”Let’s go Lakers” morphed into “I want tacos” when it was announced that if the Lakers held the Heat under 100, everybody in the whole joint got free tacos from Jack in the Crack. (Ewww…)

It’s 85 degrees here at work. WTF? It’s JANUARY. This is unusual. I know they say, It Never Rains In Southern California, but it’s NOT TRUE. It DOES rain, SHOULD rain. In January. My sister asked me what this weird weather means. I told her it means we’re all going to die.

I went to LA Live this weekend too. Took The Man to the Yard House to celebrate his birthday (Happy Birthday, baby!), and holy shit was the parking ridiculous there. It was $25 dollars for 2 hours and shot up exponentially every half hour, it capped out at $45 dollars, but goddamn, that’s like dinner and a drink that I’M NOT HAVING, because I need it to pay for my freaking car.

My friend drew this picture on my white board at work.

That was last week. This week is Cuckoo Dancing Week and California Dried Plum Digestive Month. I’d like to see her draw a picture of one of those.

Today I was feeling lazy when I got dressed for work. So even though I know I shouldn’t, I wore these to work.

Although technically they are allowed (they are, close-toed shoes…one of the many dictums of our dress code), they are frowned upon. Too casual. Well wouldn’t you know one of the MDs who will be working here part time dropped in unannounced? He just wanted to get the paperwork out of the way, he says. How about he was gorgeous? Why is the second week where when I am dressed just barely appropriate for work, I am waylaid by the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen? (Why now that I'm all happily married do I keep running into men whose legs I would happily hump? Now it's alllll window shopping. Damn)

Why is it that no matter what ELSE I talk about…I can always bring the conversation around to shoes?

Tuesday Tangents

I called my bank to tell them I lost my card. You know? The “If your card is lost or stolen, call THIS number” number? Well, that’s what I called. After several prompts asking if I wanted this message in English, did I want to take a survey after I spoke with customer service, I got a real person.
Him: Can I have your card number?
Me: No. BECAUSE I LOST IT.

********************************************************************
I always take the street in to work, never the freeway, because it’s much faster. And today, I took a street that I haven’t taken in a while. (I like to switch my route, because I’m paranoid, and concerned that someone is stalking me and knows I usually take Whatever Ave. home). Sometimes I would call The Man and say, guess what I saw? I just saw a man driving with pigeons in the dashboard. He would call bullshit. I mean, like really? Who would make that up, I’d say. Why would I call you to tell you that? Surprise! That time I had my camera phone out & ready because I KNEW he wasn’t going to believe it.

But today, I forgot my phone at home. Rather than return home to get it, I figured everybody e-mails me anyways, so not that big a deal I don’t have it. Why, WHY didn’t I have it?
Today I saw


A boy wearing a cape. But not just any boy. I’m going to guess a 15 year old boy, wearing a cape, standing at the bus stop. A cape like this one. He was wearing a black shirt, a pair of jeans, AND A RED CAPE. I wanted to stop and take his picture because I figured nobody would believe me. But I couldn’t. And that's how I found out I didn’t have my phone.

I also saw a working girl. At 7 AM. Freezing her ass off on the corner of Hard & For the Money Street. She was wearing a yellow tank top, and the thinnest yellow leggings EVER (and no underwear, which I could have lived my WHOLE life without knowing – but that was how thin they were), and knee high white stiletto boots. Which were REALLY cute. I was sitting in my car, kind of staring off.. you know, stuck at a light and just taking in the surroundings, when I saw her walking up across the street. She looked cold, hell, I was cold, and I was wearing a dress, a sweater and some boots (not as fly as hers though). It was about 60 something degrees this morning. I was hoping she was getting off “work”, but really, it looked like her day was just getting started. Then again, I suppose hooking is probably like working at a 7-11; it’s a 24-hours-a-day-7-days-a-week job. Probably without benefits. Then I got to thinking how it would probably be better as a seasonal job. I mean, think about it. In the summer time, the weather is pretty warm, which is good because you probably aren’t wearing a whole lot. Even at night, you’re okay because the evening temps don’t dip too far down. There are lots of people out; my area is a tourist town, so there’s probably brisk business. And you probably can get away with not being on the corner because the customer may want to take you to a hotel in Beverly Hills and rent you for the month, and then, you can just get a flat rate or something…Wait. Apologies. I believe that I saw that in a movie.

Still though, there’s a pretty good chance the weather alone lends that profession to closing down in the winter… because selling your wares in the winter, even in Southern California has got to be uncomfortable when it’s cold. Except that one hooker I saw once. She was wearing a big ginormous down jacket…one of those puffy ones. Downside: She was butt naked underneath. (Didn’t get a picture of that either)

Pop Quiz

Good Evening class. Betcha didn't know you were going to stop by and get pop quizzed. Of course, you didn't. Pop quizzes always take the quizzees (is that a word? anyone? anyone?) by surprise.

Lucky for you, it's multiple guess*.

Question #1:

So, I run into a co-worker I haven't seen in quite a while. She's changed departments and I work in a pretty big place. She spends THIRTY MINUTES catching me up on her life. Then she says, "So...How are you?"

The Answer? "I...

a) am wondering why its called PRE-Menstrual Syndrome, I never have it PRE, always DURING. Have a happy period, my ass.

b) am wondering where The Man hid my surprise that was delivered ding, dong, ditch style by the UPS guy...

c) am surprised they continue to let me work here. I told my MD that I was "F'ing his I". WHY couldn't I have said "I was letting him know" like normal people?

d) think my ass is expanding exponentially for the holidays.

e) have a love/hate relationship with the MAC store in the mall by my job. I puffy heart & rainbows their make-up, I DO NOT heart their employees there.

1. have a gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket.

f) don't understand the purpose of the Victoria Secret "Fashion Show". They're panties! Panties on TV, people.

g) cry on the inside because I really, REALLY miss wearing high heels.

h) need a drink. Already.

i) am fine, thanks.

OR.....

all of the above.

Too Easy?

Question #2: Chuck Norris solved the Bermuda Triangle by using the Pythagorean Theorem.

True or False?

*Please be aware this counts for 25% of your grade. (Didn't you HATE it when teachers did that? What kind of jerk would give you an exam with like, 4 or 5 questions on it, and then tell you shit like "this can make or break your grade in this class"? A big GIANT teacher jerk, that's who.)