Dedicated to anyone who is strongly opposed to visible muffin tops.
Recently I was watching an episode of "what not to wear" with two of my absolute favorite stars, Clinton and Stacey.
Their newest tragedy was a precious girl who loved fairies and glitter. No- I mean I think she literally wanted to live in a tree stump and ask people to call her pixie.
I think that she had the best of intentions, and I know that not everyone can have taste that is all peaches and cream, but come on~ Fairy wings, in public? In July? Not even close to Halloween. One day out of the year is the max that you are allowed to wear this hideous attire. I mean this girl had 5 pairs of wings that coordinated with her polyester outfits.
I know I live in the south and we are notoriously conservative, but in L.A. people would just pass this girl in the street and not even look twice. Here, in GA where I live, they would think you need to be(option A) behind bars or (option B) In a home with 24hr supervision and optional arm restraints.
We might say y'all, drink sweet tea, and speak a little slower than most, but at least we know rules like "no seersucker after labor day" and "no mini-skirts after 35" and I know that maybe it can be bent now-a-days, but I personally hold on to the no white shoes before easter or after labor day rule, is it really necessary to wear them for longer than that?
We will give compliments like "you look pearl-tastic today" and recieve ones from our men like "I love that headband, I have a bowtie in the same pattern;" and are honest with our friends when they look like crap. {but it is always ended with a compliment ex:} "sorry honey, its not working for ya, lets go for something that shows off those great legs."
We say "bless their heart" before we say something bad about someone {and it is more than likely to their face ex:} "bless your heart, that outdoor couch has a lot of flowers on it, a slipcover would do it some good."
And most importantly we agree whole-heartedly with Clinton when he says "It's not a good deal if you look like $2.00.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER, I'LL LIKE YOU FOR ALWAYS. AS LONG AS I'M LIVING MY BABY YOU'LL BE.
Dedicated to the true loves of my life; My sassy, beautiful, rockin' girlfriends.
You have to be a friend to have a friend. What an interesting statement from an author that I don't know. For some reason or another as I am absolutely SLAMMED at work and have so much to do that I don't even know where to begin to tackle this mountain in front of me I started thinking about me. Am I the friend that my friends deserve? Maybe, sometimes. But sometimes I go overboard in my bossy, controlling nature. Yeah, Yeah, maybe I am halfway in control of my life, but why do I insist on being the back-seat drivers in theirs? I choose my friends carefully because as my grandfather has always said "you can't fly with eagles when you hang around with turkeys." I love my friends like family and I cannot, absolutely cannot imagine my life without them. I hate the thought of hurting their feelings, yelling at them, saying things that may need to be said but in a tone that I wouldn't appreciate. I know I am not perfect, and I may try to be, but the harsh reality is that I need to look to them, not myself, to be the person that I want to be, because I have to face facts- They make be want to be a better person or I wouldn't choose to have them be a part of my life.
So to you my friend that inspires me to turn off the tube and pick up a good read, cheers to you. To my friend that loves everyone with everything she has even when they hurt her, cheers to you. And to my friend who has a calendar, rolodex, and blackberry as a mind, cheers to you. To my friend who has taught me that it is not always about the appearance, but what is inside that matters, cheers to you. Here's to the friend that has taught me that true love does not rely on a timeline and your prince may come when you least expect it and literally sweep you off your feet, cheers to you. To my whole group of friends who taught me to not be so uptight and to dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening, love like you have never been hurt and to live like heaven begins tomorrow~ I raise my glass in a celebration of what we have become together and what the future may hold.
I look forward to the day where all of us are sitting side by side in rocking chairs drinking sweet tea and lemonade (who am kidding, vodka tonics and mimosas.) Reminiscing about the days that we ran around grabbing eachothers butts and overspending on dresses that made them look hot.
You have to be a friend to have a friend. What an interesting statement from an author that I don't know. For some reason or another as I am absolutely SLAMMED at work and have so much to do that I don't even know where to begin to tackle this mountain in front of me I started thinking about me. Am I the friend that my friends deserve? Maybe, sometimes. But sometimes I go overboard in my bossy, controlling nature. Yeah, Yeah, maybe I am halfway in control of my life, but why do I insist on being the back-seat drivers in theirs? I choose my friends carefully because as my grandfather has always said "you can't fly with eagles when you hang around with turkeys." I love my friends like family and I cannot, absolutely cannot imagine my life without them. I hate the thought of hurting their feelings, yelling at them, saying things that may need to be said but in a tone that I wouldn't appreciate. I know I am not perfect, and I may try to be, but the harsh reality is that I need to look to them, not myself, to be the person that I want to be, because I have to face facts- They make be want to be a better person or I wouldn't choose to have them be a part of my life.
So to you my friend that inspires me to turn off the tube and pick up a good read, cheers to you. To my friend that loves everyone with everything she has even when they hurt her, cheers to you. And to my friend who has a calendar, rolodex, and blackberry as a mind, cheers to you. To my friend who has taught me that it is not always about the appearance, but what is inside that matters, cheers to you. Here's to the friend that has taught me that true love does not rely on a timeline and your prince may come when you least expect it and literally sweep you off your feet, cheers to you. To my whole group of friends who taught me to not be so uptight and to dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening, love like you have never been hurt and to live like heaven begins tomorrow~ I raise my glass in a celebration of what we have become together and what the future may hold.
I look forward to the day where all of us are sitting side by side in rocking chairs drinking sweet tea and lemonade (who am kidding, vodka tonics and mimosas.) Reminiscing about the days that we ran around grabbing eachothers butts and overspending on dresses that made them look hot.
LABEL IT TO ME BABY
Dedicated to anyone whose friends started calling them something they hate and it stuck.
Also dedicated to "Stinky B" who doesn't even read this blog.
* The names have been changed to protect the innocent
I have a slight obsession with my label maker. Not only have I used my dymo to make each and every one of my files the same font and size because even though I am scary close to the definition of a slob in my bedroom I am ANAL RETENTIVE about my work files. Well, as it were my filing labels turned into labels for my co-workers, and by labels I mean nicknames, oh yeah! Way to bring a little fun to the crisis world. One of my co-workers constanly breaks out the button ups, boat shoes, and seersucker- hence the name Andrea "ralph Lauren is my baby daddy" Smith. Another coworker who had the unfortunate experience of overlooking her lady speed stick in the GA heat developed sweat rings and therefore became Jane "sexy pits" Anderson. I like to calm people down when they are having a bad day and in my world a laugh, especially at yourself, beats a nervous breakdown any day. So to my coworker who was freaking out: Ingrid "Too blessed to be stressed" Richards. And to my coworker who wears her slippers around the office you deserve the Paula "I'm too popular for my own shoes" Salem. To you my cubbie mate, who has been having dinner bi-weekly with the same man for the last two years, your information box will forever be labeled with Anna "He ain't my man" Matthews. You really have to watch what you do and say around my workplace because if you don't have blond hair to blame it on you might end up with a label stuck on your door.
Also dedicated to "Stinky B" who doesn't even read this blog.
* The names have been changed to protect the innocent
I have a slight obsession with my label maker. Not only have I used my dymo to make each and every one of my files the same font and size because even though I am scary close to the definition of a slob in my bedroom I am ANAL RETENTIVE about my work files. Well, as it were my filing labels turned into labels for my co-workers, and by labels I mean nicknames, oh yeah! Way to bring a little fun to the crisis world. One of my co-workers constanly breaks out the button ups, boat shoes, and seersucker- hence the name Andrea "ralph Lauren is my baby daddy" Smith. Another coworker who had the unfortunate experience of overlooking her lady speed stick in the GA heat developed sweat rings and therefore became Jane "sexy pits" Anderson. I like to calm people down when they are having a bad day and in my world a laugh, especially at yourself, beats a nervous breakdown any day. So to my coworker who was freaking out: Ingrid "Too blessed to be stressed" Richards. And to my coworker who wears her slippers around the office you deserve the Paula "I'm too popular for my own shoes" Salem. To you my cubbie mate, who has been having dinner bi-weekly with the same man for the last two years, your information box will forever be labeled with Anna "He ain't my man" Matthews. You really have to watch what you do and say around my workplace because if you don't have blond hair to blame it on you might end up with a label stuck on your door.
Monday, October 20, 2008
ODE TO TECHNOLOGY AND ITS EVER CHANGING NATURE
Dedicated to anyone who knows what 143 is.
Why is it that we are supposed to be accessible all times by our work and friends? I would like to be able to shut everything off and just enjoy solitude and quiet for even a weekend. Unfortunately technology has brought us closer together and ironically all we want to ever do is "get away."
Let's take my work for example, and I love my job, let me start with that disclaimer. Yet as an employee I need to be on call for them when they need me. So what do they do? They give me a pager, yes that is right I said a pager: can we say low-budget non-profit? They like to know that they can page me on my handy dandy beeper when they need me. Um, 1993 called and would like its mobile locating device back. Sadly enough I have been away for the beeper industry for so long that I barely know how to use the thing. Pretty embarrassing to have changed the batteries and the things buzzes incessantly. Won't stop, like a permanant vibrating pain in the arse. So what did I do? Drove my happy self down to the communications store and proceeded to tell them all the issues I was having with this fine piece of machinery (which belongs in the Museum of history if you ask me...) They then went on to explain to me that I had the batteries in upside down.. Such is life. Guess the pager is actually smarter than me. What a pity and blow to my self esteem.
Its funny because even though I have been with my company for a while now and I always carry my trusty pager I have never once been beeped, the whole staff reaches me on my cell phone. Sign of the times I suppose...
Why is it that we are supposed to be accessible all times by our work and friends? I would like to be able to shut everything off and just enjoy solitude and quiet for even a weekend. Unfortunately technology has brought us closer together and ironically all we want to ever do is "get away."
Let's take my work for example, and I love my job, let me start with that disclaimer. Yet as an employee I need to be on call for them when they need me. So what do they do? They give me a pager, yes that is right I said a pager: can we say low-budget non-profit? They like to know that they can page me on my handy dandy beeper when they need me. Um, 1993 called and would like its mobile locating device back. Sadly enough I have been away for the beeper industry for so long that I barely know how to use the thing. Pretty embarrassing to have changed the batteries and the things buzzes incessantly. Won't stop, like a permanant vibrating pain in the arse. So what did I do? Drove my happy self down to the communications store and proceeded to tell them all the issues I was having with this fine piece of machinery (which belongs in the Museum of history if you ask me...) They then went on to explain to me that I had the batteries in upside down.. Such is life. Guess the pager is actually smarter than me. What a pity and blow to my self esteem.
Its funny because even though I have been with my company for a while now and I always carry my trusty pager I have never once been beeped, the whole staff reaches me on my cell phone. Sign of the times I suppose...
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
I'M IN THE MOOD FOR MOO SHOO...
Dedicated to anyone who has ever driven out of their way to get that perfect slice of cheesecake.
Aren't craving funny things? My friend told me the other day that she woke up thinking she wanted a smoothie. Her eyes popped open and for one reason or another her body/mind/heart/soul (I don't really know where cravings come from, covering all my bases) told her that she wanted strawberries and bananas blended to perfection. She then proceed to leave the comfort of her home and go on an adventure to find the exact blended creation that she was looking for. What an odd thing cravings are. Why is it that we get "tastes for things" or a "hankerin'" for something? I heard a rumor once that we get these cravings because of the vitamins in the particular food that we want, for example, peanuts because they have protein or oranges for vitamin C. Why then do I have cravings for things like freshly baked chocolate cake and rice krispie treats? Is there a vitamin in the marshmallows or the cake mix that I don't know about? If only when my eyes popped open I could think... you know, some scrambled egg whites and a glass of soy milk would really hit the spot right now.
Aren't craving funny things? My friend told me the other day that she woke up thinking she wanted a smoothie. Her eyes popped open and for one reason or another her body/mind/heart/soul (I don't really know where cravings come from, covering all my bases) told her that she wanted strawberries and bananas blended to perfection. She then proceed to leave the comfort of her home and go on an adventure to find the exact blended creation that she was looking for. What an odd thing cravings are. Why is it that we get "tastes for things" or a "hankerin'" for something? I heard a rumor once that we get these cravings because of the vitamins in the particular food that we want, for example, peanuts because they have protein or oranges for vitamin C. Why then do I have cravings for things like freshly baked chocolate cake and rice krispie treats? Is there a vitamin in the marshmallows or the cake mix that I don't know about? If only when my eyes popped open I could think... you know, some scrambled egg whites and a glass of soy milk would really hit the spot right now.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
IS THERE A TECHINAL NAME FOR AN EMAIL ADDICT? INBOX JUNKIE?
Dedicated to anyone who checks their email more than 5 times daily.
It is funny how emailing becomes a part of your day when you are at your desk staring at your computer for hours at a time. As a matter of fact when I don't get a "I'll be in a meeting" or "leaving for lunch, catch you in a bit" email I find myself worrying. After a matter of hours of not hearing from my friend i sent her this:
" Excuse me officer, can you help me make a missing persons report? My friend is missing. She is about 5'6', dancers body, cute pixie cut, 50 watt smile, contagious laugh, a purse big enough to nap in, more than likely wearing something designer, probably wearing flats and no mascara because it is a work day. Have you seen her? Could we put her on a milk carton?"
I used to be able to go a whole week or maybe even two without checking my email, but now I find myself refreshing my email screen every time my mind wanders from the report I am writing. Oh, what would life be like without cyberspace? Slow and out of touch I suppose. So open up your trusty hotmail account and crack a smile cuz baby...you've got mail!!!
It is funny how emailing becomes a part of your day when you are at your desk staring at your computer for hours at a time. As a matter of fact when I don't get a "I'll be in a meeting" or "leaving for lunch, catch you in a bit" email I find myself worrying. After a matter of hours of not hearing from my friend i sent her this:
" Excuse me officer, can you help me make a missing persons report? My friend is missing. She is about 5'6', dancers body, cute pixie cut, 50 watt smile, contagious laugh, a purse big enough to nap in, more than likely wearing something designer, probably wearing flats and no mascara because it is a work day. Have you seen her? Could we put her on a milk carton?"
I used to be able to go a whole week or maybe even two without checking my email, but now I find myself refreshing my email screen every time my mind wanders from the report I am writing. Oh, what would life be like without cyberspace? Slow and out of touch I suppose. So open up your trusty hotmail account and crack a smile cuz baby...you've got mail!!!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
WHY DO BAD MOODS EXIST? THEY ARE ABOUT AS USEFUL AS GNATS AND MOSQUITOS.
Dedicated to anyone who has ever said "I would suggest that you step away from me right now."
Don't you hate those days when you wake up and as soon as your eyes pop open you know that it would have been a better idea not to? And guys, I don't want you reading this and thinking, "you know, my girlfriend is just like that," because you have your days too. I tell you what, the phrase "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" just doesn't even cover it. When I was a kid and woke up in poor spirits and dragged myself to the kitchen, my nana would always ask me, "did you eat tiger meat for breakfast?" Now that I look back on it, its kinda cute and honestly, I will probably say it one day, but back then I would want to shout, "no nana, I did not have tiger meat for breakfast. I am just now making it to the table because after I woke up my foot got caught in my sheet, I fell out of bed, hit my head on my closet and caught myself by grabbing the shirt I was gonna wear today and ripped it on the way down. " Isn't that just the way it goes? Everytime I'm in a bad mood it is like the spirits are aligned to mess with me. My dog, whom I love with all my heart, who is always good, will take thirty minutes to go to the bathroom. (you can always tell when I am in a bad mood because she goes from being called Gigi to "dog")I am definitely gonna spill coffee or jam on my shirt at breakfast and ketchup at lunch. I will slam my finger or foot in the door or hit my head. I will trip and almost fall, and sometimes do, along with the handful of stuff I am carrying. I will bite my cheek or tongue for no apparent reason and my hair will not do what I want it to. I think that doctors needs to look into this- I personally think society would be a lot nicer without bad moods. Let's stop focusing on this common cold stuff and focus on a "bad mood reliever" sort of the Tylenol of bad moods. Personally I think it would make millions and the divorce rate would be cut in half!
Don't you hate those days when you wake up and as soon as your eyes pop open you know that it would have been a better idea not to? And guys, I don't want you reading this and thinking, "you know, my girlfriend is just like that," because you have your days too. I tell you what, the phrase "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" just doesn't even cover it. When I was a kid and woke up in poor spirits and dragged myself to the kitchen, my nana would always ask me, "did you eat tiger meat for breakfast?" Now that I look back on it, its kinda cute and honestly, I will probably say it one day, but back then I would want to shout, "no nana, I did not have tiger meat for breakfast. I am just now making it to the table because after I woke up my foot got caught in my sheet, I fell out of bed, hit my head on my closet and caught myself by grabbing the shirt I was gonna wear today and ripped it on the way down. " Isn't that just the way it goes? Everytime I'm in a bad mood it is like the spirits are aligned to mess with me. My dog, whom I love with all my heart, who is always good, will take thirty minutes to go to the bathroom. (you can always tell when I am in a bad mood because she goes from being called Gigi to "dog")I am definitely gonna spill coffee or jam on my shirt at breakfast and ketchup at lunch. I will slam my finger or foot in the door or hit my head. I will trip and almost fall, and sometimes do, along with the handful of stuff I am carrying. I will bite my cheek or tongue for no apparent reason and my hair will not do what I want it to. I think that doctors needs to look into this- I personally think society would be a lot nicer without bad moods. Let's stop focusing on this common cold stuff and focus on a "bad mood reliever" sort of the Tylenol of bad moods. Personally I think it would make millions and the divorce rate would be cut in half!
SAY CHEESE!
Dedicated to all of you who had your eyes closed in your yearbook picture.
As if prepubesent life and then the dramatic change all to quickly (even if it seems to take forever) to an adolesence isn't embarassing enough it has to be documented every year. Yes, I am talking about picture day. Why is it that the school insists upon putting our faces on the the matte- glossy pages of the $35 diary of shame that they like to call a "yearbook." It really is sad that when we look back on these pages we can look at our hairstyle (was it nessisary for me to have those winnie cooper bangs) or our teeth, (pre-braces of course.) It is truly sad that we can look back at the pictures and remember the squeaking of our voices, the first blemishes (which of course popped up on picture day right on our forehead), the first time aunt flo came to visit, our first heartbreak (he looks goofy too, at least), and the never forgotten style of the times. Is that a pants/jumper im wearing? And in purple to boot? Are those sam and libbys? I bet they are worth something now. And no, girls I haven't forgotten about the side ponytail that our moms thought was so "adorable." Not adorable now. I am embarrased that these are the things that we have to look back on when someone says she went to your elementary school. Do you remember her? We go to our trusty yearbooks and go back and tell them, oh yes, I remember her, she had great style.
As if prepubesent life and then the dramatic change all to quickly (even if it seems to take forever) to an adolesence isn't embarassing enough it has to be documented every year. Yes, I am talking about picture day. Why is it that the school insists upon putting our faces on the the matte- glossy pages of the $35 diary of shame that they like to call a "yearbook." It really is sad that when we look back on these pages we can look at our hairstyle (was it nessisary for me to have those winnie cooper bangs) or our teeth, (pre-braces of course.) It is truly sad that we can look back at the pictures and remember the squeaking of our voices, the first blemishes (which of course popped up on picture day right on our forehead), the first time aunt flo came to visit, our first heartbreak (he looks goofy too, at least), and the never forgotten style of the times. Is that a pants/jumper im wearing? And in purple to boot? Are those sam and libbys? I bet they are worth something now. And no, girls I haven't forgotten about the side ponytail that our moms thought was so "adorable." Not adorable now. I am embarrased that these are the things that we have to look back on when someone says she went to your elementary school. Do you remember her? We go to our trusty yearbooks and go back and tell them, oh yes, I remember her, she had great style.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I WISH PEOPLE WOULD QUIT WATCHING DR. PHIL AND THINK THEY KNOW IT ALL. ONE EPISODE DOES NOT A THERAPIST MAKE.
Dedicated to anyone who is tired of hearing peoples advice who dont know squat:
I was once told a story about an old lady who was always diagnosing her friends. One of her friends, who when she first met her future husband fell off the face of the earth, she didn't return phone calls sometimes for DAYS, never replied to emails or forwards that she would have previously replied to with a "HAHA! Loved it" now recieved none of the attention they truly deserved. So the lady daignosed her with "detachment disorder." Everyone around the bridge table agreed, oooh... yes definately... shen never comes around...Let me share with you the definition of detachment disorder- wait, there is no such thing...
Or how bout the time the friend of hers who decided to go off of her antidepressants and had a time dealing with the sadness. Some days she would be in a happy-go lucky mood and others she would find it hard to get out of bed. So once again the old lady dished out her diagnosis, right there on that bridge table on one of those days that the friend just didn't feel like coming. She definately has dissasociative disorder. Ooooh... Yes, that it. She doesn't even associate with us anymore. Let me again share with you a definition, this time of dissociative diorder, right out of the pages of Wikipedia: Dissociative Identity Disorder ( DID ), as defined by the American Psychiatric Association 's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities , each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. [1] The diagnosis requires that at least two personalities routinely take control of the individual's behavior with an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness; in addition, symptoms cannot be due to substance abuse or medical condition. Yep, definately sounds like what her friend has. I am so glad the old lady was there to identify her problems, now she can get the help that she needs.
How bout the time that one of her friends brought her 8 yr old little boy with her to the bridge game? Well, let see.. here are his symptoms, he hopped around on one foot alot, tended to jump from one subject to the other when talking to the ladies, and when he went outside his favorite pastime was to chase the cat around until it ran up a tree and then he would stand under it barking. Sometimes he would sneak into the kitchen and climb up on the counter to reach the cookies on top of the fridge. At the next bridge game when they weren't there she diagnosed him with autism. This time the ladies agreed a little more hesitantly thinking of example of autism that they were familiar with (think Rainman ) . "hmmm.. yeah, I guess that could be it" they said, talking themselves into the idea. Here is the definition: Autism is a brain development disorder that impairs social interaction and communication and causes restricted and repetitive behavior, all starting before a child is three years old. Autism is one of the five pervasive developmental disorders (PDD), which are characterized by widespread abnormalities of social interactions and communication, and severely restricted interests and highly repetitive behavior. Many children with autism engage in repetitive movements such as rocking and twirling, or in self-abusive behavior such as biting or head-banging. I Think this is definately what the little boy has- once again good thing that the old lady was there to tell everyone!
After doing a little research her friends found out that the first friend; turns out she had a case of getting bit by the love bug with a touch of couldn't get out of bed (if you know what I mean.) The second friend had a case of "I'm sick-o-yo-sh#+." And the child, had to pee, hence the hopping, a hint of hyperactivity, see the subject jumping, and alot of boy will be boys, aka chasing the cat up a tree and stealing cookies.
The Bridge group got together to confront the old lady, feeling a little upset that she had shamed these people and made them think that all of their friends had psychiatric disorders. And to their accusations she said "what would I know, I'm a florist."
I was once told a story about an old lady who was always diagnosing her friends. One of her friends, who when she first met her future husband fell off the face of the earth, she didn't return phone calls sometimes for DAYS, never replied to emails or forwards that she would have previously replied to with a "HAHA! Loved it" now recieved none of the attention they truly deserved. So the lady daignosed her with "detachment disorder." Everyone around the bridge table agreed, oooh... yes definately... shen never comes around...Let me share with you the definition of detachment disorder- wait, there is no such thing...
Or how bout the time the friend of hers who decided to go off of her antidepressants and had a time dealing with the sadness. Some days she would be in a happy-go lucky mood and others she would find it hard to get out of bed. So once again the old lady dished out her diagnosis, right there on that bridge table on one of those days that the friend just didn't feel like coming. She definately has dissasociative disorder. Ooooh... Yes, that it. She doesn't even associate with us anymore. Let me again share with you a definition, this time of dissociative diorder, right out of the pages of Wikipedia: Dissociative Identity Disorder ( DID ), as defined by the American Psychiatric Association 's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities , each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. [1] The diagnosis requires that at least two personalities routinely take control of the individual's behavior with an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness; in addition, symptoms cannot be due to substance abuse or medical condition. Yep, definately sounds like what her friend has. I am so glad the old lady was there to identify her problems, now she can get the help that she needs.
How bout the time that one of her friends brought her 8 yr old little boy with her to the bridge game? Well, let see.. here are his symptoms, he hopped around on one foot alot, tended to jump from one subject to the other when talking to the ladies, and when he went outside his favorite pastime was to chase the cat around until it ran up a tree and then he would stand under it barking. Sometimes he would sneak into the kitchen and climb up on the counter to reach the cookies on top of the fridge. At the next bridge game when they weren't there she diagnosed him with autism. This time the ladies agreed a little more hesitantly thinking of example of autism that they were familiar with (think Rainman ) . "hmmm.. yeah, I guess that could be it" they said, talking themselves into the idea. Here is the definition: Autism is a brain development disorder that impairs social interaction and communication and causes restricted and repetitive behavior, all starting before a child is three years old. Autism is one of the five pervasive developmental disorders (PDD), which are characterized by widespread abnormalities of social interactions and communication, and severely restricted interests and highly repetitive behavior. Many children with autism engage in repetitive movements such as rocking and twirling, or in self-abusive behavior such as biting or head-banging. I Think this is definately what the little boy has- once again good thing that the old lady was there to tell everyone!
After doing a little research her friends found out that the first friend; turns out she had a case of getting bit by the love bug with a touch of couldn't get out of bed (if you know what I mean.) The second friend had a case of "I'm sick-o-yo-sh#+." And the child, had to pee, hence the hopping, a hint of hyperactivity, see the subject jumping, and alot of boy will be boys, aka chasing the cat up a tree and stealing cookies.
The Bridge group got together to confront the old lady, feeling a little upset that she had shamed these people and made them think that all of their friends had psychiatric disorders. And to their accusations she said "what would I know, I'm a florist."
Monday, August 25, 2008
THE TALES OF CBASS AND HER RIVER RATS
Dedicated to those that love summer- minus the 110 degree heat:
I cannot think of too many things that are sadder than the end of summer. Summer encompasses so many things that are linked to great memories, whether ones that are made already, or ones that are waiting to be made. I personally made some great ones this weekend on what i suspect will be the last of the summer boat cruises. Well, my friends and I had planned a spectacular event on the river on one saturday that we could all get together- when does that EVER happen? Of course our great garden city has been in a drought for the whole summer, but this particular saturday the clouds decided to give the foliage some relief and us some grief. We had the day planned perfectly. My overcomitted friend would go work at the fundraising golf tourney in the morning, while I spent my morning doing a whole lot of uncommited nothing (which is the way I like my saturday mornings to go, quite frankly.) Then we would meet at the boat-owners house, pick up some wife saver, (and for those of you who are not familiar #1 I am sorry and #2 best southern food around) grab beer and ice and get on the water. Seems like a flawless plan, right? Not. We finally got to the river and that's when things got soggy (pun intended.)
We put the boat in at a place I have never been, very nice area, not too many people around, pretty greenery, a few friendly folks fishin', a true picturesque day on the river. We pulled around the first corner and past the first cove, waved to some adventurous teens swimming off-shore, and stopped under a pretty bridge that was a part of a golf cart path where we could see the pretty bunkers and greens. Such a nice place to eat our chicken and fried okra and macaroni and cheese (and "don't forget the nana' puddin'".) Yeah, until God gave the clouds the "OK" and the sky fell out in front of us. At times it was raining on only one side of the bridge, very intriuging, then at times the bridge was leaking (but don't worry we formed water catching devices from styrophome containers left over from lunch.) We watched a beaver building a dam and actually gave him what we thought was a clever name, Ralphie, because we thought he was a rat at first and "ralphie the rat" flowed so well.. Then someone jumped in from the bridge above and I think actually gave my friend larangitus from yelling so loudly and the other whiplash from turning her neck so quickly to check out what the splash was about.
Well, after what seemed like quite a while the rain let up a little and we decided to carry on with our journey in the determined fashion that we started the 40% chance of rain saturday that it was. We cruised along covering ourselves with towels to keep the rain from pelting us and decided to explore a little known cove in one of the inlets. We dodged a fallen tree to the right and lifted the motor to get over a submerged log. Then we chose right or left, left looked a little less leafy, so we went that way, only getting slapped by three limbs along the way. We entered this beautiful unexplored garden of flowers that my friends kept telling me were poisonious. I wonder, are they poison only if eaten or if you touch them too? They were the prettiest ones; good thing they told me or I might have picked them and put them on my kitchen table and the death of my family would have been so tragic. We thought this was the most beautiful spot we had ever seen until suddenly we saw a snake slithering towards us: "a copper mouth" I yelled! Not realizing what I had said and hearing them snicker I tried to correct my self "cotton head" no that can't be right! Man, I deserve to fail biology when we learned about reptiles, or are they amphibians. Nevermind, they ended up calling it a rattlestick in the end just to spite me. We spent the majority of the afternoon in this pretty cove until we realized that was where the spiders lived and we trucked it out of there, because they came on the boat to tell us that our presence was not welcome there anymore.
Once we got onto the open water us girls who were already wet and felt as if creepy crawlers were on us decided we were going to jump in. As we one by one hopped in (because if we didn't we would get pushed) our hearts skipped a beat as our bodies hit the water. " I feel like the girl in titanic" one commented "it feels like melted ice" another of us said. So we decided that the leisurely afternoon swim was going to have to be diminished to a dive that we should have never made. We were all fighting to get out of the water and falling back in, "come to the back it is easier to get out" the smart friend who didn't jump in called out from the boat. The first friend got out, no problem, the second who couldn't quit laughing took three (or four or five tries) and lastly I dragged my body into the boat, new bruises and all. Suggestion to all who go swimming off a boat- make sure there is a ladder before you jump in. Suggestion to all who own a boat- invest in a ladder. Suggestion to all who go out in a boat- check the weather, and take heed.
Although our adventures turned out to be a good time, I would consider consulting meterorologist Jeff Rucker the next time we decide to go out on the boat. After all isn't he right about half the time?
I cannot think of too many things that are sadder than the end of summer. Summer encompasses so many things that are linked to great memories, whether ones that are made already, or ones that are waiting to be made. I personally made some great ones this weekend on what i suspect will be the last of the summer boat cruises. Well, my friends and I had planned a spectacular event on the river on one saturday that we could all get together- when does that EVER happen? Of course our great garden city has been in a drought for the whole summer, but this particular saturday the clouds decided to give the foliage some relief and us some grief. We had the day planned perfectly. My overcomitted friend would go work at the fundraising golf tourney in the morning, while I spent my morning doing a whole lot of uncommited nothing (which is the way I like my saturday mornings to go, quite frankly.) Then we would meet at the boat-owners house, pick up some wife saver, (and for those of you who are not familiar #1 I am sorry and #2 best southern food around) grab beer and ice and get on the water. Seems like a flawless plan, right? Not. We finally got to the river and that's when things got soggy (pun intended.)
We put the boat in at a place I have never been, very nice area, not too many people around, pretty greenery, a few friendly folks fishin', a true picturesque day on the river. We pulled around the first corner and past the first cove, waved to some adventurous teens swimming off-shore, and stopped under a pretty bridge that was a part of a golf cart path where we could see the pretty bunkers and greens. Such a nice place to eat our chicken and fried okra and macaroni and cheese (and "don't forget the nana' puddin'".) Yeah, until God gave the clouds the "OK" and the sky fell out in front of us. At times it was raining on only one side of the bridge, very intriuging, then at times the bridge was leaking (but don't worry we formed water catching devices from styrophome containers left over from lunch.) We watched a beaver building a dam and actually gave him what we thought was a clever name, Ralphie, because we thought he was a rat at first and "ralphie the rat" flowed so well.. Then someone jumped in from the bridge above and I think actually gave my friend larangitus from yelling so loudly and the other whiplash from turning her neck so quickly to check out what the splash was about.
Well, after what seemed like quite a while the rain let up a little and we decided to carry on with our journey in the determined fashion that we started the 40% chance of rain saturday that it was. We cruised along covering ourselves with towels to keep the rain from pelting us and decided to explore a little known cove in one of the inlets. We dodged a fallen tree to the right and lifted the motor to get over a submerged log. Then we chose right or left, left looked a little less leafy, so we went that way, only getting slapped by three limbs along the way. We entered this beautiful unexplored garden of flowers that my friends kept telling me were poisonious. I wonder, are they poison only if eaten or if you touch them too? They were the prettiest ones; good thing they told me or I might have picked them and put them on my kitchen table and the death of my family would have been so tragic. We thought this was the most beautiful spot we had ever seen until suddenly we saw a snake slithering towards us: "a copper mouth" I yelled! Not realizing what I had said and hearing them snicker I tried to correct my self "cotton head" no that can't be right! Man, I deserve to fail biology when we learned about reptiles, or are they amphibians. Nevermind, they ended up calling it a rattlestick in the end just to spite me. We spent the majority of the afternoon in this pretty cove until we realized that was where the spiders lived and we trucked it out of there, because they came on the boat to tell us that our presence was not welcome there anymore.
Once we got onto the open water us girls who were already wet and felt as if creepy crawlers were on us decided we were going to jump in. As we one by one hopped in (because if we didn't we would get pushed) our hearts skipped a beat as our bodies hit the water. " I feel like the girl in titanic" one commented "it feels like melted ice" another of us said. So we decided that the leisurely afternoon swim was going to have to be diminished to a dive that we should have never made. We were all fighting to get out of the water and falling back in, "come to the back it is easier to get out" the smart friend who didn't jump in called out from the boat. The first friend got out, no problem, the second who couldn't quit laughing took three (or four or five tries) and lastly I dragged my body into the boat, new bruises and all. Suggestion to all who go swimming off a boat- make sure there is a ladder before you jump in. Suggestion to all who own a boat- invest in a ladder. Suggestion to all who go out in a boat- check the weather, and take heed.
Although our adventures turned out to be a good time, I would consider consulting meterorologist Jeff Rucker the next time we decide to go out on the boat. After all isn't he right about half the time?
SORRY LADIES AND GENTS, THE TRUTH IS YOU WON'T MAKE 100 GRAND OUT OF COLLEGE!
This is dedicated to anyone who had to suffer through their first job out of college:
For those of you that graduated, found your dream job and are as happy as a lark with what you are doing then more power to ya, it doesn't happen much. Most of us had jobs renting cars (which also means washing the nasty things,) selling trailers, working retail and dealing with customers who need someone to yell at, working 50-60 hours a week for a boss that doesn't even appreciate us and lays you off first chance they get (they lost the best employee they ever had, my friend), or just hating what you do because you became a psychology major and couldn't find a job that had anything to do with it (I know, I know, my parents told me that would happen.) Well, I will tell you what I am glad I am past that first job stage, and I along with about half of my friends started out renting cars. The job really wouldn't have been so bad if wasn't for the hours, the customers, the heat, the cold, washing the cars, the a$$holes that weren't satisfied with the chevy cobalt or the dodge caravan, the incessant rate quotes (because they thought the price would change in 30 minutes, um...yes sir, I do recognize your voice..) And for the record, the best part of the job was the people and I LOVE THEM AND MISS THEM, the job just wasn't for me. But they will also feel these frustrations. I worked as a waitress in college and loved the fact that after I graduated I would move onto a job that kept me from spilling ketchup all over myself. I thought that would be the best thing in the world. Little did I know that I would go from spilling ketchup to spilling soapy water and window cleaner on myself everyday. I spent my first year and a half of being a "real person" being a slave to the man in the car business. Now if money is what drives you then car rental is the way to go because if you think about it, everyone needs wheels, sensible business. But I personally traded in my car washing hat for a non-profit (which I have since figured out means not for money) victims services hat. I love my new job, but as my grandmother says I get paid in hugs. Ever since the day I decided to leave my first job I vowed I would not wash another car, and I haven't...and Damn is my car dirty.
For those of you that graduated, found your dream job and are as happy as a lark with what you are doing then more power to ya, it doesn't happen much. Most of us had jobs renting cars (which also means washing the nasty things,) selling trailers, working retail and dealing with customers who need someone to yell at, working 50-60 hours a week for a boss that doesn't even appreciate us and lays you off first chance they get (they lost the best employee they ever had, my friend), or just hating what you do because you became a psychology major and couldn't find a job that had anything to do with it (I know, I know, my parents told me that would happen.) Well, I will tell you what I am glad I am past that first job stage, and I along with about half of my friends started out renting cars. The job really wouldn't have been so bad if wasn't for the hours, the customers, the heat, the cold, washing the cars, the a$$holes that weren't satisfied with the chevy cobalt or the dodge caravan, the incessant rate quotes (because they thought the price would change in 30 minutes, um...yes sir, I do recognize your voice..) And for the record, the best part of the job was the people and I LOVE THEM AND MISS THEM, the job just wasn't for me. But they will also feel these frustrations. I worked as a waitress in college and loved the fact that after I graduated I would move onto a job that kept me from spilling ketchup all over myself. I thought that would be the best thing in the world. Little did I know that I would go from spilling ketchup to spilling soapy water and window cleaner on myself everyday. I spent my first year and a half of being a "real person" being a slave to the man in the car business. Now if money is what drives you then car rental is the way to go because if you think about it, everyone needs wheels, sensible business. But I personally traded in my car washing hat for a non-profit (which I have since figured out means not for money) victims services hat. I love my new job, but as my grandmother says I get paid in hugs. Ever since the day I decided to leave my first job I vowed I would not wash another car, and I haven't...and Damn is my car dirty.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
TALES OF CARS WITH CHARACTER (CRAPPY)
Dedicated to anyone who has had to drive an embarassing car:
Well, my precious cousin, who I really think of as my sister, is on her way to Athens today to pick up her new car! What an exciting time- I remember getting my first new car: wait... what am I talking about?! I had to drive my Grandfather's 1990 Pontiac Grand Prix that had been handed down from my Nana to my Papa because some shrimp spilled in the trunk on our beach vacation, and even though he had it professionally cleaned she could still smell it, and the truth is, if the day was hot enough, you could. The poor car shorted out all the time for no apparent reason so you couldn't brake for squirrels or the dang thing would just quit on you. Sometimes it would even quit for no reason going up a hill and you would just start to RoLL back down- fun times.... I think everytime my friends and I went somewhere they would opt to drive. We actually nicknamed the poor guy the POS (piece of s%#T) 2000. I do have to say that it hurt my pride a little when I was shorted out on the side of the road and then teens in their convertable audi stopped and asked me if I needed help. "No!!! I am fine, it just needs to rest!" (as I was trying to call my parents on my Zach Morris phone which NEVER had service.) I was also was awarded the front spot at school that year, so not only did I have to drive the car, but you could see it glinting in the sun if you looked out of the cafeteria! It looked even worse next to the land rover, Z3, and benz parked beside it. I have to admit, it is really nice to have a good dependable car, but crappy car stories are the best, they really do build character. Things like the ability to crank your car up with a key and take it out, yet the car still runs, is the stuff of the movies, which is one friends story, or another similar story where she could take the keys out of her Dodge Fox to open the glove box and then put them back in the ignition, all while driving! Continuing with the Fox episodes, it had no air, so a tiny fan was plugged into the cigarette lighter and attached to the dash for a nice breeze, the drivers side outside latch was broken so she had to manually roll down her window (yes manually, they weren't always automatic) to turn her key in the door to open it and get out. This is not to even mentioning how she carried around fan belts to replace hers that popped off on a regular basis! Or how bout my friend whose drivers side lock is broken so you have to crawl in the passenger side to let yourself in, or how the driver window doesn't roll down so you have to lay your seat back to the back window to get your drive-thru. Or how bout a loose windshield wiper switch that randomly turns on as you are driving down the road- truly priceless! Now as an adult I have a pretty nice car, one I am not embarrased of, but it seems to be in the shop quite a bit. So not only do I get the pleasure of throwing hundreds of my sweat and tears into my car, but to add serious insult to injury I am back to driving my Grandfather's sweet LeSabre,which is what he replaced the Gran Prix with. At least I know I won't get a ticket, it is hard enough to get it up to the speed limit, and plus they think I am little old lady and what heartless policemen is gonna give them a ticket?
Well, my precious cousin, who I really think of as my sister, is on her way to Athens today to pick up her new car! What an exciting time- I remember getting my first new car: wait... what am I talking about?! I had to drive my Grandfather's 1990 Pontiac Grand Prix that had been handed down from my Nana to my Papa because some shrimp spilled in the trunk on our beach vacation, and even though he had it professionally cleaned she could still smell it, and the truth is, if the day was hot enough, you could. The poor car shorted out all the time for no apparent reason so you couldn't brake for squirrels or the dang thing would just quit on you. Sometimes it would even quit for no reason going up a hill and you would just start to RoLL back down- fun times.... I think everytime my friends and I went somewhere they would opt to drive. We actually nicknamed the poor guy the POS (piece of s%#T) 2000. I do have to say that it hurt my pride a little when I was shorted out on the side of the road and then teens in their convertable audi stopped and asked me if I needed help. "No!!! I am fine, it just needs to rest!" (as I was trying to call my parents on my Zach Morris phone which NEVER had service.) I was also was awarded the front spot at school that year, so not only did I have to drive the car, but you could see it glinting in the sun if you looked out of the cafeteria! It looked even worse next to the land rover, Z3, and benz parked beside it. I have to admit, it is really nice to have a good dependable car, but crappy car stories are the best, they really do build character. Things like the ability to crank your car up with a key and take it out, yet the car still runs, is the stuff of the movies, which is one friends story, or another similar story where she could take the keys out of her Dodge Fox to open the glove box and then put them back in the ignition, all while driving! Continuing with the Fox episodes, it had no air, so a tiny fan was plugged into the cigarette lighter and attached to the dash for a nice breeze, the drivers side outside latch was broken so she had to manually roll down her window (yes manually, they weren't always automatic) to turn her key in the door to open it and get out. This is not to even mentioning how she carried around fan belts to replace hers that popped off on a regular basis! Or how bout my friend whose drivers side lock is broken so you have to crawl in the passenger side to let yourself in, or how the driver window doesn't roll down so you have to lay your seat back to the back window to get your drive-thru. Or how bout a loose windshield wiper switch that randomly turns on as you are driving down the road- truly priceless! Now as an adult I have a pretty nice car, one I am not embarrased of, but it seems to be in the shop quite a bit. So not only do I get the pleasure of throwing hundreds of my sweat and tears into my car, but to add serious insult to injury I am back to driving my Grandfather's sweet LeSabre,which is what he replaced the Gran Prix with. At least I know I won't get a ticket, it is hard enough to get it up to the speed limit, and plus they think I am little old lady and what heartless policemen is gonna give them a ticket?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
THEY SAY HELL IS SIMLIAR TO A DOCTOR'S WAITING ROOM
Dedicated to anyone who has ever been to the doctor (aka everyone):
What is it about Doctor's offices that make you feel so, well, sounds pretty elementary, but... ICKY. I don't know if it is the waiting room portion where you have to stand in line behind the man in a walker who is by himself and you are hoping to goodness that he didn't drive himself there considering he can barely take a seat without assitance in order to check in. It might be the part where you are forced to read magazines that you aren't interested in because all the ones you like are already taken. Or maybe it is the obnoxiously loud soap opera blaring in the background "oh Carlos...it is your baby dum dum daaa....." Possibly it is the lady in the corner talking on the phone so loudly in her thick asian accent thinking that because she is "in the corner" no one can hear her talking to her son Chow Min about the bad grade he got in math and what they are having for dinner and if he has fed the cat... Then there is the whole fact that you spend your time pretending to read the uniteresting airplane magazine in front of you all the while thinking "I wonder why they are here." Then the person beside you coughs and you move your arm off the rest thinking "oh, GOD! what if it is the bird flu?!!" Then someone across the room sneezes and then coughs and blows their nose, twice, to which your reaction is a simple "gross." We worry so much about these people, hoping that we don't catch what they have, when in all reality most of the people in that room are probably just there in order to adjust their antidepressants.
What is it about Doctor's offices that make you feel so, well, sounds pretty elementary, but... ICKY. I don't know if it is the waiting room portion where you have to stand in line behind the man in a walker who is by himself and you are hoping to goodness that he didn't drive himself there considering he can barely take a seat without assitance in order to check in. It might be the part where you are forced to read magazines that you aren't interested in because all the ones you like are already taken. Or maybe it is the obnoxiously loud soap opera blaring in the background "oh Carlos...it is your baby dum dum daaa....." Possibly it is the lady in the corner talking on the phone so loudly in her thick asian accent thinking that because she is "in the corner" no one can hear her talking to her son Chow Min about the bad grade he got in math and what they are having for dinner and if he has fed the cat... Then there is the whole fact that you spend your time pretending to read the uniteresting airplane magazine in front of you all the while thinking "I wonder why they are here." Then the person beside you coughs and you move your arm off the rest thinking "oh, GOD! what if it is the bird flu?!!" Then someone across the room sneezes and then coughs and blows their nose, twice, to which your reaction is a simple "gross." We worry so much about these people, hoping that we don't catch what they have, when in all reality most of the people in that room are probably just there in order to adjust their antidepressants.
GO FOR GOLD, IT'S SO SHINY!!
Dedicated to anyone dedicated to the Olympics..
Ah, well it is that time of the year...er...well...that time of every fourth I should say, you know; the SUMMER OLYMPICS! First let me tell you that I am addicted to the olympics. I don't even like pole vaulting or discus throwing or shotput on a normal day, but put up some flags and slap a USA jersey on an althlete and I am riveted. I have never in my life been so interested in 8 lanes of speedo sportin', swim cap wearin', goggle lovin' men in my life until we start winning ungodly amounts of gold medals.
May I mention beach volleyball for one moment? Number one- never been so perplexed about a strange black "humungus tatooo" (as my two year old cousin says) on the shoulder of someone, but lo and behold USA is on her back, so I want to know, dang it! (and yes, I did google it and the mystery was explained- athletic tape to help with stress and pressure.) Number two- it is hard enough to tote my cooler/chair/umbrella/boogie board/innertube/sunscreen down to the beach in that sand. How do they possibly make it look so easy? Rock on May-Walsh!!
Can I give a shout out to the little known sports?!!! How bout the trampolinists!! Sweet flips and turns ladies. How bout syncronized diving. Wow, that is all I can say about that.
Now onto the favorite of the summer olympics, gymnastics. Honestly, can't say enough. Really, the truth is I can't say anything because I am so fatigued from staying up until 2am watching the coverage. One vent though- are those little China dolls 16? If they truly are then I wish everyone would let it go! Becuase if they are they do not deserve to have their wins and accomplishments tainted by this accusal from the world, but aren't they just so cute I just want to pinch their wittle cheekies.
I love the Olympics, but I am ready to get back to giving my pillow the attention it deserves.
Ah, well it is that time of the year...er...well...that time of every fourth I should say, you know; the SUMMER OLYMPICS! First let me tell you that I am addicted to the olympics. I don't even like pole vaulting or discus throwing or shotput on a normal day, but put up some flags and slap a USA jersey on an althlete and I am riveted. I have never in my life been so interested in 8 lanes of speedo sportin', swim cap wearin', goggle lovin' men in my life until we start winning ungodly amounts of gold medals.
May I mention beach volleyball for one moment? Number one- never been so perplexed about a strange black "humungus tatooo" (as my two year old cousin says) on the shoulder of someone, but lo and behold USA is on her back, so I want to know, dang it! (and yes, I did google it and the mystery was explained- athletic tape to help with stress and pressure.) Number two- it is hard enough to tote my cooler/chair/umbrella/boogie board/innertube/sunscreen down to the beach in that sand. How do they possibly make it look so easy? Rock on May-Walsh!!
Can I give a shout out to the little known sports?!!! How bout the trampolinists!! Sweet flips and turns ladies. How bout syncronized diving. Wow, that is all I can say about that.
Now onto the favorite of the summer olympics, gymnastics. Honestly, can't say enough. Really, the truth is I can't say anything because I am so fatigued from staying up until 2am watching the coverage. One vent though- are those little China dolls 16? If they truly are then I wish everyone would let it go! Becuase if they are they do not deserve to have their wins and accomplishments tainted by this accusal from the world, but aren't they just so cute I just want to pinch their wittle cheekies.
I love the Olympics, but I am ready to get back to giving my pillow the attention it deserves.
WHAT WOULD YOUR BUTTON SAY?
This is dedicated to my sisters and brothers who 'hate the player and the dating game':
As my friend and I sat at a bar (where so many wonderful philosophies are born) looking around the room at the men and women, we were both instantly frustrated with dating. We then came up with the theory of "buttons." Yeah yeah, I am gonna explain it.... Wouldn't life be so much easier if everyone wore a campaign style button on their shirt that said exactly what they wanted out of relationship? For example, let's say your button clearly stated "single, free-spirited, outdoorsy, looking for a relationship" and you walked by a guy that had a button that said "single, organized, fisherman, not looking for anything serious." Then, right there at that moment you have that fatheresque, sitting the in living room with a shotgun, "what are your intentions talk" without even saying a single word. You would know that, clearly this man, or woman, would be blatant waste of your time. Even though he/she might be cute, nice, a good dresser, nice hair, a great smile, looks great in blue, and has the same interests as you, you know without a doubt that he/she doesn't want the same things as you. See there, just saved you two of the best years of your life with one button.
As my friend and I sat at a bar (where so many wonderful philosophies are born) looking around the room at the men and women, we were both instantly frustrated with dating. We then came up with the theory of "buttons." Yeah yeah, I am gonna explain it.... Wouldn't life be so much easier if everyone wore a campaign style button on their shirt that said exactly what they wanted out of relationship? For example, let's say your button clearly stated "single, free-spirited, outdoorsy, looking for a relationship" and you walked by a guy that had a button that said "single, organized, fisherman, not looking for anything serious." Then, right there at that moment you have that fatheresque, sitting the in living room with a shotgun, "what are your intentions talk" without even saying a single word. You would know that, clearly this man, or woman, would be blatant waste of your time. Even though he/she might be cute, nice, a good dresser, nice hair, a great smile, looks great in blue, and has the same interests as you, you know without a doubt that he/she doesn't want the same things as you. See there, just saved you two of the best years of your life with one button.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
"I DON'T HAVE A BABY, EVERYBODY DRINK!" -Samantha Jones
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
This is dedicated to anyone who has had to listen to pregnancy stories and was strongly compelled to adopt:
Never being pregnant myself, it is a real mystery to me. I feel as if I am surrounded by pregnant woman constantly telling me stories that, quite honestly, I don't want to hear. Baffling, really. You say the phrase "coffee and cheetos dont mix very well" because you, as a non-preggo didn't eat breakfast and scrounged up the only thing in the office to eat and it turned out not to with go well with your usual morning drink, and it makes them gag. But lunch conversation is about how certain foods (which may be on your plate) make or made them puke and this is somehow acceptable conversation. Guess it is an easy way to diet, but there are starving children in Somalia that would have enjoyed that BBQ chicken that I can now not bring myself to eat, that is if the jolie-pitts didn't adopt them yet, of course.
This is dedicated to anyone who has had to listen to pregnancy stories and was strongly compelled to adopt:
Never being pregnant myself, it is a real mystery to me. I feel as if I am surrounded by pregnant woman constantly telling me stories that, quite honestly, I don't want to hear. Baffling, really. You say the phrase "coffee and cheetos dont mix very well" because you, as a non-preggo didn't eat breakfast and scrounged up the only thing in the office to eat and it turned out not to with go well with your usual morning drink, and it makes them gag. But lunch conversation is about how certain foods (which may be on your plate) make or made them puke and this is somehow acceptable conversation. Guess it is an easy way to diet, but there are starving children in Somalia that would have enjoyed that BBQ chicken that I can now not bring myself to eat, that is if the jolie-pitts didn't adopt them yet, of course.
MOVING IN THE HEAT
This is dedicated to anyone who has ever had to experience the misery of moving in the GA heat:
I was reminded of the sort of hellacious experience it is to move into and apartment, not to mention a 3rd floor one, in the middle of summer by my friend this weekend. There are so many things to think about when you are moving; deposits, pets, landlords, turning on electricity, dealing with storage units. It really is enough to make your head spin. So lets start with the landlords, um, ever heard of an emergency contact? What is up with people that we pay our hard earned money to not being accessible in this overly accessible society? On to GA Power, When I think about her and her family trying to work with the notoriously hard to work with GA power to get her air turned on in the middle of the sweltering summer heat it makes my stomach churn a little. Is it too much to ask that a representative flip a switch for a sista? I mean really?! As I think of them standing outside of their cars drinking a warm gatorade, trying to keep from dehydrating it lights a little fire inside of me. On to storage units, who says a man that you pay cash to each month for a little box with no heat or air can try and hold YOUR things hostage? What a ridiculous excuse for a business man, no office, no drop box, no ethics, um... can we say po-dunk? Well, the good news is my friend is moved in, no one passed out and I'm thinking what she really needs is a gnome by her front door to bring her some much needed good luck to come her way, who knows, maybe it will even be an Atlanta Braves gnome and it will bring them some luck as well, Lord knows they need it.
I was reminded of the sort of hellacious experience it is to move into and apartment, not to mention a 3rd floor one, in the middle of summer by my friend this weekend. There are so many things to think about when you are moving; deposits, pets, landlords, turning on electricity, dealing with storage units. It really is enough to make your head spin. So lets start with the landlords, um, ever heard of an emergency contact? What is up with people that we pay our hard earned money to not being accessible in this overly accessible society? On to GA Power, When I think about her and her family trying to work with the notoriously hard to work with GA power to get her air turned on in the middle of the sweltering summer heat it makes my stomach churn a little. Is it too much to ask that a representative flip a switch for a sista? I mean really?! As I think of them standing outside of their cars drinking a warm gatorade, trying to keep from dehydrating it lights a little fire inside of me. On to storage units, who says a man that you pay cash to each month for a little box with no heat or air can try and hold YOUR things hostage? What a ridiculous excuse for a business man, no office, no drop box, no ethics, um... can we say po-dunk? Well, the good news is my friend is moved in, no one passed out and I'm thinking what she really needs is a gnome by her front door to bring her some much needed good luck to come her way, who knows, maybe it will even be an Atlanta Braves gnome and it will bring them some luck as well, Lord knows they need it.
7 EATING HABITS OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE PEOPLE
This is dedicated to the women, and hell, men who are fighting the battle of the bulge:
As women we are usually looking for some motivation to lose those few pounds that we are so scared are going to become the dreaded "spare tire" or the awful "love handle" or the simply scary "cottage cheese thighs."
As women we are usually looking for some motivation to lose those few pounds that we are so scared are going to become the dreaded "spare tire" or the awful "love handle" or the simply scary "cottage cheese thighs."
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