We bring back glamour!
And glitz.
And long-gloves and nice table manners.
AND Jell-o molds!
What ever happened to shaped jello bearing mandarin oranges on top of a bed of lettuce?
Nothing says I'm excited to see you QUITE like a jell-o mold.
Except for ironed sheets.
But unless you are an overnight guest, you won't even know the sheets are ironed....so that kind of loses it's punch if you're only staying for dinner.
Sooooo, when trying to impress, or let someone know we are VERY happy to see them, we are left with the jell-o mold or a very well set table. And I mean WELL SET! None of this knives pointed outward business.
I want napkin oragami and personal salt shakers people!
When was the last time you went to someone's house and the table was set and everyone sat down and passed the food and had great conversation instead of "the big game" blaring from the other room?
That's what I thought.
When was the last time you ate off of china? Or drank out of Crystal glasses....And no, weddings and Christmas do not count.
No they do not.
This is my blog and these are my rules.
Have we gotten so engrossed in back to school nonsense and corporate bail-outs, blackberries, fast-food lunch, and fantasy football, that we have skipped out on Charisma and finesse?
Nay I say.
I say Nay.
I am bringing back the era of the Fitzgerald's! (F. Scott and Zelda......which, p.s. don't you just LOVE the name ZELDA?!)
Women, get out your heels, yes the high ones, and gloss up those lips. Bat an eyelash. Wear a to die for over-sized hat.
Men, open a door for crying out loud. Carry her bag......Bring home some flowers AND chocolates. Flash those gorgeous teeth! Say the word "attache".
Love it.
Everyone, have a martini at lunch...WITH blue cheese stuffed olives. AND go dancing....fancy dancing....none of this dropping it like it's hot.
Go crazy. Bust out in your three-piece suit.
Order snails and smoke cigars and go to the ballet and insist on Champagne.
Send thank you notes when it's totally unnecessary.
Purchase calling cards. AND place cards.
Put your initials on everything.
Bring back the festivity. The ZING!
I need it.
And so do you.
YES you do!
This is my blog and I say you do!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
I'm the Kind of Girl....
That sees people and makes up a big fat story in my mind about them and their lives.
I can really get myself worked up over it. I really can.
For instance, if I see a man sitting alone at a restaurant eating...Forget it. I know for a fact, that he is a widower and only has cereal and cup-o-noodles to eat at home.
A home that is now only a house.
A lonely, dark house. Devoid of humanity. And laughter.
I am sure of it.
The "hub" basically has to keep me restrained so I don't go ask him to join us. So instead, I keep sneaking glances and smiling as big and as nurturing as I can everytime I catch his eye. Just so he knows he's not alone in this world.
Meanwhile, he probably thinks I have the hots for him. Or am just some maniacal eternal smiler. He's probably sitting there thinking....ooohhh that poor bastard. His wife thinks she sweet. He'd probably love to come to my house and have a bowl of cereal and ditch the kook.
Or maybe not?
Who knows?
This is not a new way of thinking for me. I have always made up vignettes about people....Or rather, been very interested in their stories or lives.
Even as a child.
If we would pass someone being pulled over by a cop, I had to know ALLLL of the details....why are they being pulled over? Do you think they feel bad? Do yout hink they have kids? What do you think they are having for dinner? I wonder if they have that alot? I wonder where she got that recipe? Do you think she'll tell her family she got pulled over during dinner? Do you think her husband will be mad? Will she be mad back?
And on.
And on.
I am quite certain I drove my mother absolutely NUTS-O.
But, quite frankly, I am of the belief that curiosity is not what killed the cat! Rather, it's what brought the cat back to life.
Soooome people might think I am nosey, but, really, I am just interested.
Curious.
And, ok, NOW AND THEN, a teeeeeny tiiiiny bit nosey.
BUT! I am a writer.
It is my job to uncover the inside story.
Much like Mark McGrath on EXTRA... And, yes, he did used to be in Sugar Ray. The band. Not the boxer.
Yesterday I had a big case of the making up of stories.... I have pin-pointed these episodes to times when either I hear a nice depressing song on the radio or when I am not on my cell phone and actually am left with my thoughts....
WHICH, I try not to do very often.
For obvious reason.
You should hear my thoughts....
Dude.
So I'm driving home from the grocery store and that new Journey song comes on. I mean...that right there just about kills you.
Any Journey song really.
I'm driving by the bike path and I see this ....well....QUITE HEFTY fellow riding a tiny-ish bike.
It just killed me. I almost broke into tears.
I don't know why....I guess just thinking about him going on a bike ride on a nice day and all.
All by himself..... Maybe he's trying to lose weight and he loves to ride a bike? Or he thought he'd try something new? Someone in his family probably just died and he's trying to take his mind off of it OR riding in their honor....?
Or maybe, for once, he found this girl that loved him and they were totally in love...or so he thought....and she just ditched him...And he's trying to swallow that lump in his throat while biking and hoping the wind in his face will silence the break in his heart?
I don't know. But when I think of that guy pedalling that bike on the path by the river, it just chokes me up.
And really, for all I know, he could be a pedophile fishing for kids on trikes.
Really. He totally could be.
But in my mind, he'll always be that lonely guy with nothing more to do on a Sunday than ride a bike.
All by his chubby lonesome.
I just might have to invite him for Thanksgiving.
I can really get myself worked up over it. I really can.
For instance, if I see a man sitting alone at a restaurant eating...Forget it. I know for a fact, that he is a widower and only has cereal and cup-o-noodles to eat at home.
A home that is now only a house.
A lonely, dark house. Devoid of humanity. And laughter.
I am sure of it.
The "hub" basically has to keep me restrained so I don't go ask him to join us. So instead, I keep sneaking glances and smiling as big and as nurturing as I can everytime I catch his eye. Just so he knows he's not alone in this world.
Meanwhile, he probably thinks I have the hots for him. Or am just some maniacal eternal smiler. He's probably sitting there thinking....ooohhh that poor bastard. His wife thinks she sweet. He'd probably love to come to my house and have a bowl of cereal and ditch the kook.
Or maybe not?
Who knows?
This is not a new way of thinking for me. I have always made up vignettes about people....Or rather, been very interested in their stories or lives.
Even as a child.
If we would pass someone being pulled over by a cop, I had to know ALLLL of the details....why are they being pulled over? Do you think they feel bad? Do yout hink they have kids? What do you think they are having for dinner? I wonder if they have that alot? I wonder where she got that recipe? Do you think she'll tell her family she got pulled over during dinner? Do you think her husband will be mad? Will she be mad back?
And on.
And on.
I am quite certain I drove my mother absolutely NUTS-O.
But, quite frankly, I am of the belief that curiosity is not what killed the cat! Rather, it's what brought the cat back to life.
Soooome people might think I am nosey, but, really, I am just interested.
Curious.
And, ok, NOW AND THEN, a teeeeeny tiiiiny bit nosey.
BUT! I am a writer.
It is my job to uncover the inside story.
Much like Mark McGrath on EXTRA... And, yes, he did used to be in Sugar Ray. The band. Not the boxer.
Yesterday I had a big case of the making up of stories.... I have pin-pointed these episodes to times when either I hear a nice depressing song on the radio or when I am not on my cell phone and actually am left with my thoughts....
WHICH, I try not to do very often.
For obvious reason.
You should hear my thoughts....
Dude.
So I'm driving home from the grocery store and that new Journey song comes on. I mean...that right there just about kills you.
Any Journey song really.
I'm driving by the bike path and I see this ....well....QUITE HEFTY fellow riding a tiny-ish bike.
It just killed me. I almost broke into tears.
I don't know why....I guess just thinking about him going on a bike ride on a nice day and all.
All by himself..... Maybe he's trying to lose weight and he loves to ride a bike? Or he thought he'd try something new? Someone in his family probably just died and he's trying to take his mind off of it OR riding in their honor....?
Or maybe, for once, he found this girl that loved him and they were totally in love...or so he thought....and she just ditched him...And he's trying to swallow that lump in his throat while biking and hoping the wind in his face will silence the break in his heart?
I don't know. But when I think of that guy pedalling that bike on the path by the river, it just chokes me up.
And really, for all I know, he could be a pedophile fishing for kids on trikes.
Really. He totally could be.
But in my mind, he'll always be that lonely guy with nothing more to do on a Sunday than ride a bike.
All by his chubby lonesome.
I just might have to invite him for Thanksgiving.
I’m Just Saying.....
I have a lot to say. About quite a few things.
This always happens when I travel because there's always such great people watching.....ESP in airports.
Revision...ESP in airports In the SOUTH. It's just different there.
Where oh where do I start?
The kook that sat down next to me at Chilis?
Negative.
It would be weird to write about....you kind of had to be there. Plus, it's QUITE "un-PC" and I think the government is already tracking my blog anyway. (In case you don't know, I'm kind of a big deal around here).
The kid that asked for money for the bus and that whole quandry?
Maybe tomorrow.
The soldier coming home from Iraq...MMMMmmmmm....Yes.
That's the one. That's the one.
So I'm at my airport gate and the entire lobby bursts into applause. I, of course, turn around, ready to say, come on, these shoes aren't THAT CUTE, and instead see this soldier coming home all dressed in his uniform and his entire family there with signs and kids and babies and his wife is crying and everyone is clapping....I mean!
I had to literally bight the inside of my mouth not just to boo-hoo it out. True, I was tired and it had been "SOOOOME WKND", but just to see that was so......I don't know.
Emotional. Nice. Sad. Amazing.
Moving.
I could not take my eyes off of them. I wanted to see every moment of their reunion and crying and hugging and the kids and the dad and all of it.....And then I kind of started feeling like this creepy voyeur spying on an intimate family moment. But I could not not look away.
Everyone in the lobby was that way.
All feeling very American, and looking on all proud, which.....I mean...don't know why were all so proud....it's not like any of us had anything to do with it or had sent him packages or knew him.
I don't know. I just have to say that the whole thing gave me the goosers a little bit.
And believe me, this is not because I'm some big war supporter.....
Not saying I am. Not saying I'm not.
I just thought, geeze....if I ever sacrificed so much and walked off a plane and everyone burst into applause, I would just be a mess.
And so damn proud of myself.
I would. I really would.
And I wouldn't tell them to stop clapping either......I'd soak it all in and wave them on...more...more....I've been living in BFE, missing my family and friends and my favorite restaurant and doing a million push ups a day with no good TV and being scared, scared, scared.
BRING ON THE APPLAUSE! I deserve it.
What's the point? I don't know. I think you can figure it out.
All I'm saying is it's something when you're just reading "Franny and Zoey" at the airport and everyone bursts into applause for a soldier.
I'm just saying.
This always happens when I travel because there's always such great people watching.....ESP in airports.
Revision...ESP in airports In the SOUTH. It's just different there.
Where oh where do I start?
The kook that sat down next to me at Chilis?
Negative.
It would be weird to write about....you kind of had to be there. Plus, it's QUITE "un-PC" and I think the government is already tracking my blog anyway. (In case you don't know, I'm kind of a big deal around here).
The kid that asked for money for the bus and that whole quandry?
Maybe tomorrow.
The soldier coming home from Iraq...MMMMmmmmm....Yes.
That's the one. That's the one.
So I'm at my airport gate and the entire lobby bursts into applause. I, of course, turn around, ready to say, come on, these shoes aren't THAT CUTE, and instead see this soldier coming home all dressed in his uniform and his entire family there with signs and kids and babies and his wife is crying and everyone is clapping....I mean!
I had to literally bight the inside of my mouth not just to boo-hoo it out. True, I was tired and it had been "SOOOOME WKND", but just to see that was so......I don't know.
Emotional. Nice. Sad. Amazing.
Moving.
I could not take my eyes off of them. I wanted to see every moment of their reunion and crying and hugging and the kids and the dad and all of it.....And then I kind of started feeling like this creepy voyeur spying on an intimate family moment. But I could not not look away.
Everyone in the lobby was that way.
All feeling very American, and looking on all proud, which.....I mean...don't know why were all so proud....it's not like any of us had anything to do with it or had sent him packages or knew him.
I don't know. I just have to say that the whole thing gave me the goosers a little bit.
And believe me, this is not because I'm some big war supporter.....
Not saying I am. Not saying I'm not.
I just thought, geeze....if I ever sacrificed so much and walked off a plane and everyone burst into applause, I would just be a mess.
And so damn proud of myself.
I would. I really would.
And I wouldn't tell them to stop clapping either......I'd soak it all in and wave them on...more...more....I've been living in BFE, missing my family and friends and my favorite restaurant and doing a million push ups a day with no good TV and being scared, scared, scared.
BRING ON THE APPLAUSE! I deserve it.
What's the point? I don't know. I think you can figure it out.
All I'm saying is it's something when you're just reading "Franny and Zoey" at the airport and everyone bursts into applause for a soldier.
I'm just saying.
'Sup Playas?
I hope I don't already have a blog titled "'Sup Playas" because that would be like...way lame.
And all of my subscribers would probably drop my blog.....wait a minute...I don't have any subscribers.....
Well..fine then....you're all creeps.
What can I say, I like to say, "Sup playa?" ....makes me feel coolio....and hip ...and like I don't wear a blazer 3 days a week....
I will say on my behalf though, that I always, ALWAYS try to not wear panties those days....just to mix it up...keep thing real.....
ha...
I TOTALLY cracked myself up with that one....like I just laughed out loud at myself.
That's because I'm very self-involved. Not to be mistaken for EVOLVED. I am def not that.
I hope some future boss doesn't google me and that's the one thing that comes up. ....Something about not wearing panties...even the word panties is kind of naughty...I should really call them bloomers or "UNDERWEAR".
Whatev. I cannot be bother with such nonsense poopy-pants.
STELLAR vocab....poopy-pants. There I go being evolved again.
Stellar.....Like Michelle Gellar.
What every happened to her by the way? Oye Vay.
What am I, some craaaaazy rhymer now?
Mad skills. Mad, mad skills.
That's what they call me here in the Dirty Rock...Mad Skills.
And sometimes....when I'm just rhyming...You know like free flow style....they just call me "Skills"....
'Sup Skills?
I just totally cracked myself up again. Painful.
Have you seen JUNO?! Me Encante that movie....awesome writing and uuuber funny. I very highly recommend. And I'm QUITE the critic. It's not like I watch Flipping Out, Real Housewives of the OC, or Project Runway.
All crap.
Again with the crack up.
I'm must be WAAAY bored today. It's a bloomer wearing day...That explains it.......went with a shift dress and NO blazer. AND very hot, hot pink and black high heels....
Fierce!
Ok.....So I have one teeeeeeny addiction to teenage television.
Big Fat Deal.
You used to smoke...or whatever.
Did you know that the Hills is coming back on August 18th?!?!!!? OMG! I am TOTALLY counting the days and hosting a premiere party. Should I serve nachos? Love the Nacheees!
Seriously, Is BRODY ever going to go to second base with LC?! GET ON WITH IT Jenner! I wonder what plastic surgery Heidi did this year?! Can't WAIT.
Also, tres excited about....mmmm....nothing that I can think of except Flare's bach party and seeing the girls and just like living in my swimsuit. Cannot get enough of being in front of people in my swimwuit. SO FUN.
As you can tell, I have a TON going on and am VERY active both civicly and athletically.
I am going to the Riverhawks game with Vegas tonight.
Animal rights bitches.
See? Very, VERY active.
Okey doke bored Americans....and, please, if you are reading this from EUROPE or even Canada, I will totally need to change my bloomies.....so be sure to let me know. . . Because, and I don't know if anyone knows this...it's kind of a secret, but like...I would totally eat meat to be famous.
Real meat you pervs. Like a burger. I'm a veggie. Geeeze.
So anyway, like yeah....now you know my "secret". I am super dying to be like waaaay famous.
Like local news and everything.
Later Skaters.
Stephanie Out....Just like Seacrest....So GLAD he dropped that bit.
LAME.
And all of my subscribers would probably drop my blog.....wait a minute...I don't have any subscribers.....
Well..fine then....you're all creeps.
What can I say, I like to say, "Sup playa?" ....makes me feel coolio....and hip ...and like I don't wear a blazer 3 days a week....
I will say on my behalf though, that I always, ALWAYS try to not wear panties those days....just to mix it up...keep thing real.....
ha...
I TOTALLY cracked myself up with that one....like I just laughed out loud at myself.
That's because I'm very self-involved. Not to be mistaken for EVOLVED. I am def not that.
I hope some future boss doesn't google me and that's the one thing that comes up. ....Something about not wearing panties...even the word panties is kind of naughty...I should really call them bloomers or "UNDERWEAR".
Whatev. I cannot be bother with such nonsense poopy-pants.
STELLAR vocab....poopy-pants. There I go being evolved again.
Stellar.....Like Michelle Gellar.
What every happened to her by the way? Oye Vay.
What am I, some craaaaazy rhymer now?
Mad skills. Mad, mad skills.
That's what they call me here in the Dirty Rock...Mad Skills.
And sometimes....when I'm just rhyming...You know like free flow style....they just call me "Skills"....
'Sup Skills?
I just totally cracked myself up again. Painful.
Have you seen JUNO?! Me Encante that movie....awesome writing and uuuber funny. I very highly recommend. And I'm QUITE the critic. It's not like I watch Flipping Out, Real Housewives of the OC, or Project Runway.
All crap.
Again with the crack up.
I'm must be WAAAY bored today. It's a bloomer wearing day...That explains it.......went with a shift dress and NO blazer. AND very hot, hot pink and black high heels....
Fierce!
Ok.....So I have one teeeeeeny addiction to teenage television.
Big Fat Deal.
You used to smoke...or whatever.
Did you know that the Hills is coming back on August 18th?!?!!!? OMG! I am TOTALLY counting the days and hosting a premiere party. Should I serve nachos? Love the Nacheees!
Seriously, Is BRODY ever going to go to second base with LC?! GET ON WITH IT Jenner! I wonder what plastic surgery Heidi did this year?! Can't WAIT.
Also, tres excited about....mmmm....nothing that I can think of except Flare's bach party and seeing the girls and just like living in my swimsuit. Cannot get enough of being in front of people in my swimwuit. SO FUN.
As you can tell, I have a TON going on and am VERY active both civicly and athletically.
I am going to the Riverhawks game with Vegas tonight.
Animal rights bitches.
See? Very, VERY active.
Okey doke bored Americans....and, please, if you are reading this from EUROPE or even Canada, I will totally need to change my bloomies.....so be sure to let me know. . . Because, and I don't know if anyone knows this...it's kind of a secret, but like...I would totally eat meat to be famous.
Real meat you pervs. Like a burger. I'm a veggie. Geeeze.
So anyway, like yeah....now you know my "secret". I am super dying to be like waaaay famous.
Like local news and everything.
Later Skaters.
Stephanie Out....Just like Seacrest....So GLAD he dropped that bit.
LAME.
I'm Kooky.....Or So They Say....
Yesterday my husband said I was kooky.
Not the first time I've heard it. (gasp!)
Not that I get it ALL the time...but I've heard it enough that I am always prepared to laugh and make a comment or do some wacky body movement and say, "WHATEVER are you referring to?!"...ha ha ha.....
I've always thought people just said that because they had nothing else really to say...I mean, I'm kooky in that, when someone says, "How are you?" I say, "faboo!". BUT only because I don't want to say, "I'm very well, and you?" (because to me that sounds gaggy pretentious ... to say "well"...instead of "good" that is, eventhough the "well" answer is proper English...it just sounds so...... hi, I think I'm quite remarkable, not to mention handsome and successful)
.....So I just by-pass the whole "well" vs. "good" bit all together, and say, "I'm faboo"... or something similar. Which I guess can sound rather "quote un-quote" kooky... but it's not because I want attention, or for someone to be like, oh my gosh! Did you just say "faboo"?
That's crazy!
It's more so I don't sound like an ass.....or to put the other person at ease, and because I don't want them to think I think I'm something ....Which REALLY, who is going to think I think I'm "something" just because I answer a question with "well"... but that's how my mind works. I'm not going to deny it.
Nontheless, this whole, I don't want someone to think I think I'm special or important is a running theme in my life.
If I say something intellectual or a "big word" like "quarantine" or "conquistador" or "magnitude" or "litigate" or if I have a brilliant idea or answer in a meeting, or if I suddenly come up with some terrific advice for a friend, I immediately need to off-set it with something funny or self-effacing?
Or is it self-defacing?
And how in the hell do you spell it?
...moving on....
So, then I become known for my humor or "kookiness" or, in Jamie's words, "Bub, you're just...over the top." Which, in my mind, makes it sound like I wear mis-matched clothes, pig tales, and am trying to grow a handlebar mustache, that I'm always doing magic tricks for strangers and have some big affinity for custard that I must share with everyone.
And all of this because, really.... I'm just trying to set everyone else at ease, or kick up a little fun.
So I asked Jamie, what, please, makes me so kooky?
What makes me so much more .... whatever ... than everyone else?
And he said...
A) When you dance in the bathroom in your underware.
Big fat deal. Oh, like Cameron Diaz can do it, but I can't? True...her fanny (as my grandma would say) does look quite a bit better in her under-roos than mine does, but does that automatically make her sexy or cute, and me kooky?
I guess it does.
B) The fact that you had your screen name on My Space as, "Oo-lala".
Well I changed it to something nice and normal, didn't I?
C) When you jumped out and waved all stupid to my mom and Gordon at the airport.
Lame example. I wanted them to know we were excited to see them!? That's just having good manners.
It's not like I dress up as Elvis and go to the grocery store or cook wild squirrel with a lovely clam sauce for dinner. It's not as if I don't know how to dress appropriately for church, or when to shush it in a public place ... ok ... minus Julie's graduation when I got the "ssshhhhhh" 3 times.....But please....It had been 3 hours. I was getting b-o-r-e-d.....I mean....she was in the "W" section at the very end!
I'm sticking to my guns.
I am not all that kooky.
I'm not even a free spirit really.....I am simply a young professional, trying to liven things up a bit.
What's wrong with a good laugh at my expense?
What's wrong with a little enthusiasm or eating left over Indian food in the morning?
Is it really all that horrible? Am I really all that over the top?
I say nay.
Nay I say.
On that note, I'm off to see if I can't buy a huge Oak to put in our back yard as I'm hoping to build a tree house next wknd with a fireman's pole and everything!
(Enter loud swelling music...and imagine me turning on my heels with my wonder woman cape flowing behine me as I march off in defiance!)
Not the first time I've heard it. (gasp!)
Not that I get it ALL the time...but I've heard it enough that I am always prepared to laugh and make a comment or do some wacky body movement and say, "WHATEVER are you referring to?!"...ha ha ha.....
I've always thought people just said that because they had nothing else really to say...I mean, I'm kooky in that, when someone says, "How are you?" I say, "faboo!". BUT only because I don't want to say, "I'm very well, and you?" (because to me that sounds gaggy pretentious ... to say "well"...instead of "good" that is, eventhough the "well" answer is proper English...it just sounds so...... hi, I think I'm quite remarkable, not to mention handsome and successful)
.....So I just by-pass the whole "well" vs. "good" bit all together, and say, "I'm faboo"... or something similar. Which I guess can sound rather "quote un-quote" kooky... but it's not because I want attention, or for someone to be like, oh my gosh! Did you just say "faboo"?
That's crazy!
It's more so I don't sound like an ass.....or to put the other person at ease, and because I don't want them to think I think I'm something ....Which REALLY, who is going to think I think I'm "something" just because I answer a question with "well"... but that's how my mind works. I'm not going to deny it.
Nontheless, this whole, I don't want someone to think I think I'm special or important is a running theme in my life.
If I say something intellectual or a "big word" like "quarantine" or "conquistador" or "magnitude" or "litigate" or if I have a brilliant idea or answer in a meeting, or if I suddenly come up with some terrific advice for a friend, I immediately need to off-set it with something funny or self-effacing?
Or is it self-defacing?
And how in the hell do you spell it?
...moving on....
So, then I become known for my humor or "kookiness" or, in Jamie's words, "Bub, you're just...over the top." Which, in my mind, makes it sound like I wear mis-matched clothes, pig tales, and am trying to grow a handlebar mustache, that I'm always doing magic tricks for strangers and have some big affinity for custard that I must share with everyone.
And all of this because, really.... I'm just trying to set everyone else at ease, or kick up a little fun.
So I asked Jamie, what, please, makes me so kooky?
What makes me so much more .... whatever ... than everyone else?
And he said...
A) When you dance in the bathroom in your underware.
Big fat deal. Oh, like Cameron Diaz can do it, but I can't? True...her fanny (as my grandma would say) does look quite a bit better in her under-roos than mine does, but does that automatically make her sexy or cute, and me kooky?
I guess it does.
B) The fact that you had your screen name on My Space as, "Oo-lala".
Well I changed it to something nice and normal, didn't I?
C) When you jumped out and waved all stupid to my mom and Gordon at the airport.
Lame example. I wanted them to know we were excited to see them!? That's just having good manners.
It's not like I dress up as Elvis and go to the grocery store or cook wild squirrel with a lovely clam sauce for dinner. It's not as if I don't know how to dress appropriately for church, or when to shush it in a public place ... ok ... minus Julie's graduation when I got the "ssshhhhhh" 3 times.....But please....It had been 3 hours. I was getting b-o-r-e-d.....I mean....she was in the "W" section at the very end!
I'm sticking to my guns.
I am not all that kooky.
I'm not even a free spirit really.....I am simply a young professional, trying to liven things up a bit.
What's wrong with a good laugh at my expense?
What's wrong with a little enthusiasm or eating left over Indian food in the morning?
Is it really all that horrible? Am I really all that over the top?
I say nay.
Nay I say.
On that note, I'm off to see if I can't buy a huge Oak to put in our back yard as I'm hoping to build a tree house next wknd with a fireman's pole and everything!
(Enter loud swelling music...and imagine me turning on my heels with my wonder woman cape flowing behine me as I march off in defiance!)
So dude....I haven't blogged in like 2 years.
Dude. Whatev. I'm just like...WAY to busy and important...AND MYSTERIOUS.
I am nothing if not mysterious.
Do you think it's lame or jeuvinile for a 33 year old woman to use "dude" all the time?
I don't either.
Lot's of things happening....Erika with the engagement and Heatho with the new house...my new car...I'm now GOLFING...which, p.s. golf actually provides a whole new arena in which a girl can buy very koot shoes.
Ashley graduated. YAAAAY!
Yes... she still looks good in a swimsuit.
Gaggage.
Jerry had a triple by-pass. My George is studying insanely for some totally redic test.....I am myspacing at work...which is totally fine because no one at my work prob even knows what myspace is...and if they do, they are CERTAINLY NOT my "friends".
Yes. True adulthood is finally here.
Also...I'm thinking of writing a children's book...well...actually, I've already started...but I don't think it's so much the writing of the children's books that makes them...it's more the illustrating and since I am total suckage at drawing, I'm wondering.....maybe I should just write an ADULT book....but then, what, please would I write about?! Not feelings or responsibility and certainly not organization.....maybe something like....Buy this book and make me rich?
Also thinking that I need to have a vegetarian cooking show so anyone that's looking for a host...I'm way available.
Speaking of...Ally is totally boss and rocks ass and gets to be a fancy schmance producer in Savannah and I totally want her life. Plus Jamie and Vegas...and all fo my cool Dirty Rock friends.
Going to a Silpada party tonight...which sounds lame...but is going to be TOTALLY fun because only cool girls get to go and we're having sushi AND a bonfire. AND other stuff too like moon pies or something fab.
Suck on that Oprah.
Just kidding. Calm down. I totally love you girl and yes, yes, I'll come on the show when my book is released.
Maybe my book could be about me. Now how fascinating is THAT?!
Ok....maybe I won't write a book. Maybe I'll just try to blog.
Give me some topics....I can ramble forever about nothing.
What can I say...we all have our spiritual gifts
Dude. Whatev. I'm just like...WAY to busy and important...AND MYSTERIOUS.
I am nothing if not mysterious.
Do you think it's lame or jeuvinile for a 33 year old woman to use "dude" all the time?
I don't either.
Lot's of things happening....Erika with the engagement and Heatho with the new house...my new car...I'm now GOLFING...which, p.s. golf actually provides a whole new arena in which a girl can buy very koot shoes.
Ashley graduated. YAAAAY!
Yes... she still looks good in a swimsuit.
Gaggage.
Jerry had a triple by-pass. My George is studying insanely for some totally redic test.....I am myspacing at work...which is totally fine because no one at my work prob even knows what myspace is...and if they do, they are CERTAINLY NOT my "friends".
Yes. True adulthood is finally here.
Also...I'm thinking of writing a children's book...well...actually, I've already started...but I don't think it's so much the writing of the children's books that makes them...it's more the illustrating and since I am total suckage at drawing, I'm wondering.....maybe I should just write an ADULT book....but then, what, please would I write about?! Not feelings or responsibility and certainly not organization.....maybe something like....Buy this book and make me rich?
Also thinking that I need to have a vegetarian cooking show so anyone that's looking for a host...I'm way available.
Speaking of...Ally is totally boss and rocks ass and gets to be a fancy schmance producer in Savannah and I totally want her life. Plus Jamie and Vegas...and all fo my cool Dirty Rock friends.
Going to a Silpada party tonight...which sounds lame...but is going to be TOTALLY fun because only cool girls get to go and we're having sushi AND a bonfire. AND other stuff too like moon pies or something fab.
Suck on that Oprah.
Just kidding. Calm down. I totally love you girl and yes, yes, I'll come on the show when my book is released.
Maybe my book could be about me. Now how fascinating is THAT?!
Ok....maybe I won't write a book. Maybe I'll just try to blog.
Give me some topics....I can ramble forever about nothing.
What can I say...we all have our spiritual gifts
Blog Blog Flippidy Bob
Remember when I used to call everyone Bob ... like "dude" or "man", but it was "BOB"?
I miss that.....well...kind of.
I don't know if "miss" is the word? I guess when I say it now it just kind of makes me happy....like remembering old times in a sense.
...Makes me think of Maryann and David and the Vanimal and acting.....the "Bob-B-Q"....man was that a good idea. Bob-B-Q...Shishka BOBS....Sloppy BOBS...BOBbing for apples.
Very clever.
Not even sure how I came up with that? Genius I guess.
We all have our own little genius. Mine is for kooky parties? Maybe....or reassigning Proper Nouns as plain old normal nouns?
Wow....I haven't thought about nouns or verbs in a long time....not to mention those pesky participals. Oh those dangling ones can really be something.
I don't know where it went...The "Bob" that is.
Now I call some people "George"...but mostly J Dub...or Heather.
Children are obviously "bubs" or "Beedges". Obvo. Duh.
Anyway....just thinking about The Bob....
What are you thinking about?
Final thought....If I Blog more than once a day, do I not have a life? Because now I've thought of something else I'd like to write about, but it has nothing to do with "Bob".
What about Bob?
Sorry...that was lame.
Or was it?
Tune in later for the answer to "Was that lame?"..or ... text your vote to 404-FOXY. Remember when that was my phone number?!?!?! Killer! That was during the BOB era.
OOOHhhh BOB!
I miss that.....well...kind of.
I don't know if "miss" is the word? I guess when I say it now it just kind of makes me happy....like remembering old times in a sense.
...Makes me think of Maryann and David and the Vanimal and acting.....the "Bob-B-Q"....man was that a good idea. Bob-B-Q...Shishka BOBS....Sloppy BOBS...BOBbing for apples.
Very clever.
Not even sure how I came up with that? Genius I guess.
We all have our own little genius. Mine is for kooky parties? Maybe....or reassigning Proper Nouns as plain old normal nouns?
Wow....I haven't thought about nouns or verbs in a long time....not to mention those pesky participals. Oh those dangling ones can really be something.
I don't know where it went...The "Bob" that is.
Now I call some people "George"...but mostly J Dub...or Heather.
Children are obviously "bubs" or "Beedges". Obvo. Duh.
Anyway....just thinking about The Bob....
What are you thinking about?
Final thought....If I Blog more than once a day, do I not have a life? Because now I've thought of something else I'd like to write about, but it has nothing to do with "Bob".
What about Bob?
Sorry...that was lame.
Or was it?
Tune in later for the answer to "Was that lame?"..or ... text your vote to 404-FOXY. Remember when that was my phone number?!?!?! Killer! That was during the BOB era.
OOOHhhh BOB!
SOOOOoooo....
I have too much on my plate.
It's not life shattering stuff like studying for the BAR (golden child) or even taking night classes while working and raising 3 kids (Some wonder-woman marathon runner out there)....It's stupid stuff like golf with the girls and having a BBQ and going to FL for the wknd to see my other girls
(Holla!).
.....Which, for the record, what makes "my stuff" not as important or meaningful?
Is it because hanging out and being social isn't considered making the most of ones life?
Is it that anyone can be friendly or tell a story and it's not really considered a skill? Is it that I'm not really giving anything up to be social? That there's no real sacrifice?
Well F that!
It does take a lot to be social. I don't even really like PEOPLE. They normally drive me crazy.
And it is a skill.....Try being trapped in a meeting with someone that's uuuber boring or has bad breath....You want to kill yourself.
It's my community service to make a party fun.
To be a good listener.
To have lonely souls over for fondue.
It's my spiritaul gift to "be a good time" (And not in a write-my-name-on-a-bathroom-stall kind of way).
So sue me.
And ...... I do give up a lot....a lot of down time that I could use to deep clean the bathroom and pursue ceramics and put on facial masks...which, would then slow my pre-mature aging.....
So for one, I'm giving up my dynamite looks to help you have a better weekend. A funny story. A meaningful summer memory.
Number two...I'm sacrificing money by not working long hours and making a ton of dough....That's right, I am sacrificing my fiscal stability because I know you don't want to watch the season premiere of the new 90210 all alone. For you I do this...For you. Not for me.
Because believe me, I would MUCH rather be cleaining our the fridge or learning CPR or re-wallpapering something.....But you need me.
This is my cross to bear.
My joke to make.
My cell phone to dial.
So next time you're all braggy and droppy about all of the corporate ladders your're climbing, plays you're writing, or furniture you're re-staining, just pipe it...because I'm doing important, life-enhancing things too. I just don't rub your face in all of the good times I'm creating for the dorks of the world.
And by dorks, I mean inner-dorks....not true dorks. That would be a little too selfless.
And let's face it, I'm not into that.
It's not life shattering stuff like studying for the BAR (golden child) or even taking night classes while working and raising 3 kids (Some wonder-woman marathon runner out there)....It's stupid stuff like golf with the girls and having a BBQ and going to FL for the wknd to see my other girls
(Holla!).
.....Which, for the record, what makes "my stuff" not as important or meaningful?
Is it because hanging out and being social isn't considered making the most of ones life?
Is it that anyone can be friendly or tell a story and it's not really considered a skill? Is it that I'm not really giving anything up to be social? That there's no real sacrifice?
Well F that!
It does take a lot to be social. I don't even really like PEOPLE. They normally drive me crazy.
And it is a skill.....Try being trapped in a meeting with someone that's uuuber boring or has bad breath....You want to kill yourself.
It's my community service to make a party fun.
To be a good listener.
To have lonely souls over for fondue.
It's my spiritaul gift to "be a good time" (And not in a write-my-name-on-a-bathroom-stall kind of way).
So sue me.
And ...... I do give up a lot....a lot of down time that I could use to deep clean the bathroom and pursue ceramics and put on facial masks...which, would then slow my pre-mature aging.....
So for one, I'm giving up my dynamite looks to help you have a better weekend. A funny story. A meaningful summer memory.
Number two...I'm sacrificing money by not working long hours and making a ton of dough....That's right, I am sacrificing my fiscal stability because I know you don't want to watch the season premiere of the new 90210 all alone. For you I do this...For you. Not for me.
Because believe me, I would MUCH rather be cleaining our the fridge or learning CPR or re-wallpapering something.....But you need me.
This is my cross to bear.
My joke to make.
My cell phone to dial.
So next time you're all braggy and droppy about all of the corporate ladders your're climbing, plays you're writing, or furniture you're re-staining, just pipe it...because I'm doing important, life-enhancing things too. I just don't rub your face in all of the good times I'm creating for the dorks of the world.
And by dorks, I mean inner-dorks....not true dorks. That would be a little too selfless.
And let's face it, I'm not into that.
STUCKAGE.....SUCKAGE
Do you ever get stuck? In life? In general?
Big stuff....little stuff....It's all stuck.
I make the same stuff for dinner.
My weeks look the same. Basically.
I don't have any new goals.
I continue to be "eh" regarding my job.
I'm stuck. And not sure how to climb up the ladder. Up and out of the sinking sand.
It seems so hard. So effortful. That's right, FUL. Not less.
So needing of scrutiny.
And even if I did "make some new goals"....who's going to keep me on track?
Not me.
And if YOU try to, quite frankly, you'll irritate me. And I'll be like...dude...GET OFF MY BACK.
New dinner menu isn't that hard to do...I mean really.
I guess I could start there?
But that seems pretty lame.....Watch out! Turning over a new leaf in life ...... Babe, tonight it's TURKEY CASEROLE! No more haystacks.
Wowsa. Stand the F back. It's getting jiggy in here.
I mean, don't you ever just get sick of yourself?! All of your bad habits. Bad jokes. Bad moods.
Even the good stuff....It's always the same. And it's not like I don't try new restaurants or order something different off of the menu.....I do.
I travel. I read. I've taken up golf...blah blah blah.
I guess it's just that when you're yourself. That's who your bound to be.
And sometimes...33 years of the same old thing gets kind of "ish".
It's HER again.
Big stuff....little stuff....It's all stuck.
I make the same stuff for dinner.
My weeks look the same. Basically.
I don't have any new goals.
I continue to be "eh" regarding my job.
I'm stuck. And not sure how to climb up the ladder. Up and out of the sinking sand.
It seems so hard. So effortful. That's right, FUL. Not less.
So needing of scrutiny.
And even if I did "make some new goals"....who's going to keep me on track?
Not me.
And if YOU try to, quite frankly, you'll irritate me. And I'll be like...dude...GET OFF MY BACK.
New dinner menu isn't that hard to do...I mean really.
I guess I could start there?
But that seems pretty lame.....Watch out! Turning over a new leaf in life ...... Babe, tonight it's TURKEY CASEROLE! No more haystacks.
Wowsa. Stand the F back. It's getting jiggy in here.
I mean, don't you ever just get sick of yourself?! All of your bad habits. Bad jokes. Bad moods.
Even the good stuff....It's always the same. And it's not like I don't try new restaurants or order something different off of the menu.....I do.
I travel. I read. I've taken up golf...blah blah blah.
I guess it's just that when you're yourself. That's who your bound to be.
And sometimes...33 years of the same old thing gets kind of "ish".
It's HER again.
I LIKE TO.....
Blog!
And I cannot lie.
You other brothers can't deny.
When a girl walks in with and itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face....
And so on.
The songs not really about blogging (enter severe gasp) .... but whatev.
Today on the show we'll be discussing weird innuendo's in a business-like atmosphere, but first up, "It's Time for a Nap!"... brought to you by .... the Chamber of Commerce.
(Did I mention this is all to be read in your head with a very deep announcer-like voice....or VERBRATO if you will).
How do you know when it's time for a nap?
When it's daytime and you're tired.
Wow.
I really and truly have to do everything around here.
Look, if you don't know when it's time for a nap, then sista (who could resist-a, red beans and rice did miss-a), you need to look elsewhere for a job. Because I cannot just keep you around as dead - weight bringing down the running time of life.
I will not settle for the bronze I tell you. I will not.
Lordy.
Now get your fancy mug that Doloris gave you and get on out. But please, have a spring in your step. There's nothing I can stand less than a heavy walker just CLUMP CLUMP CLUMPing down the road.
Or in this instance, the hallway.
The hallway of desperation.
See the kind of writing I do when it's nap time?
I get crazy in la cabeza. Or Loco....loca? Loco? I think for me it's Loca?
Nontheless I get koo-koo-kachoo.
I do. I really do.
I think my mother refers to it as "punchy".
OOOhhh Jenny G.....always FULL of jewels....and those jewels are never wasted either I'll have you know! She always, and I mean without fail, always uses them to brighten up an outfit or pillowcase, golf bag or photo album.
Bedazzler....If you're out there Holla!
If only I could be a bedazzler in the game of geriatrics we call life.
GERIATRICS.
I said Geriatrics!
G-E-R-I-A-T-R-I-C-S!
Oh forget it. Tune up your hearing aid already will you?
On that note.....
Sequins.
AND.....
Scene. (that's acting talk for this is over or "the end" ... I'm telling you, I am VERY well rounded. I really am).
SCENE. For serious.
And I cannot lie.
You other brothers can't deny.
When a girl walks in with and itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face....
And so on.
The songs not really about blogging (enter severe gasp) .... but whatev.
Today on the show we'll be discussing weird innuendo's in a business-like atmosphere, but first up, "It's Time for a Nap!"... brought to you by .... the Chamber of Commerce.
(Did I mention this is all to be read in your head with a very deep announcer-like voice....or VERBRATO if you will).
How do you know when it's time for a nap?
When it's daytime and you're tired.
Wow.
I really and truly have to do everything around here.
Look, if you don't know when it's time for a nap, then sista (who could resist-a, red beans and rice did miss-a), you need to look elsewhere for a job. Because I cannot just keep you around as dead - weight bringing down the running time of life.
I will not settle for the bronze I tell you. I will not.
Lordy.
Now get your fancy mug that Doloris gave you and get on out. But please, have a spring in your step. There's nothing I can stand less than a heavy walker just CLUMP CLUMP CLUMPing down the road.
Or in this instance, the hallway.
The hallway of desperation.
See the kind of writing I do when it's nap time?
I get crazy in la cabeza. Or Loco....loca? Loco? I think for me it's Loca?
Nontheless I get koo-koo-kachoo.
I do. I really do.
I think my mother refers to it as "punchy".
OOOhhh Jenny G.....always FULL of jewels....and those jewels are never wasted either I'll have you know! She always, and I mean without fail, always uses them to brighten up an outfit or pillowcase, golf bag or photo album.
Bedazzler....If you're out there Holla!
If only I could be a bedazzler in the game of geriatrics we call life.
GERIATRICS.
I said Geriatrics!
G-E-R-I-A-T-R-I-C-S!
Oh forget it. Tune up your hearing aid already will you?
On that note.....
Sequins.
AND.....
Scene. (that's acting talk for this is over or "the end" ... I'm telling you, I am VERY well rounded. I really am).
SCENE. For serious.
Isn't It Interesting.....
When you try something new.
Like a job.
Or you move somewhere completely different.
Or make a new friend.
...that it all seems very cool and mysterious and different and like your life is going to be fresh now.....That there will be a completely revamped you!?
And then in a week or month into it, it's like....um..this is NOT that fab.
Kind of like when you go on a first date and you're super nervous and all giddy and you're like....OH MY YIY!!!! etc. etc...... and after you've dated them for a month, you're like...why in the world was I (Capital I) nervous?! He's totally as dorky as I am! And not nearly as genious as I had once presumed.
I sooo should not have been nervous and I TOTALLY should not have gone dutch to show how cool I am.
(...not that I've dated in a while....like 5 years, because I'm like totally married and stuff so obvo I don't "date". But as I recall, this was often my thought...)
Take my current job for instance. When I first started I was like...SCORE...we're doing a ribbon cutting today...the media's going to be there...I'm goign to be on the nightly news looking all hot in my power suit and cute shoes holding those giant scissors giving my best movie star smile....
Now I'm like..LORD! SERIOUSLY!?
ANOTHER retarded (Sorry Mya) ribbon cutting .....and 4:00 pm on a Friday no less?!
A Friday when I'm trying to scoot out of town and get to the city for some totally happening, new mysterious stuff.
PLEASE.
I cannot. And I'm CERTAINLY not touching up my make-up before I get there. So just get ready to see my scars and bags and whatev.
This is clearly why the super rich are either crazy and drunk and strung out and whatever....or are complete humanitarians and see the bigger picture adn give back and have a cause .......
Because when you've done everything by the age of like 10....and no one really interests or stimulates you anymore, it has got to be a total drag.
No wonder why Doug Bachelor lived in a cave.
Am I right?
Like a job.
Or you move somewhere completely different.
Or make a new friend.
...that it all seems very cool and mysterious and different and like your life is going to be fresh now.....That there will be a completely revamped you!?
And then in a week or month into it, it's like....um..this is NOT that fab.
Kind of like when you go on a first date and you're super nervous and all giddy and you're like....OH MY YIY!!!! etc. etc...... and after you've dated them for a month, you're like...why in the world was I (Capital I) nervous?! He's totally as dorky as I am! And not nearly as genious as I had once presumed.
I sooo should not have been nervous and I TOTALLY should not have gone dutch to show how cool I am.
(...not that I've dated in a while....like 5 years, because I'm like totally married and stuff so obvo I don't "date". But as I recall, this was often my thought...)
Take my current job for instance. When I first started I was like...SCORE...we're doing a ribbon cutting today...the media's going to be there...I'm goign to be on the nightly news looking all hot in my power suit and cute shoes holding those giant scissors giving my best movie star smile....
Now I'm like..LORD! SERIOUSLY!?
ANOTHER retarded (Sorry Mya) ribbon cutting .....and 4:00 pm on a Friday no less?!
A Friday when I'm trying to scoot out of town and get to the city for some totally happening, new mysterious stuff.
PLEASE.
I cannot. And I'm CERTAINLY not touching up my make-up before I get there. So just get ready to see my scars and bags and whatev.
This is clearly why the super rich are either crazy and drunk and strung out and whatever....or are complete humanitarians and see the bigger picture adn give back and have a cause .......
Because when you've done everything by the age of like 10....and no one really interests or stimulates you anymore, it has got to be a total drag.
No wonder why Doug Bachelor lived in a cave.
Am I right?
I THINK.....
It's easy to get down on one's self.
I do.
It is also a pet peeve of mine when people say "I think" before they say something....OBVIOUSLY you think that or else you wouldn't be SAYING it....ya dig?
So I'm not sure why I wrote it, since it annoys me....but alas.
I wrote it and I'm not erasing it.
I'll try not to do it again.
Back to being down.
On one's self. (Does it sound like I'm full of myself when I say "one's self"...I hope not. This is the same struggle that I have with the "I'm well" vs "Good" answer to the question of "How are you?")
Down on one's self. Stay on task will ya?
It's easy.
And here's why.
Because you only see one side (genreally) of other people's life.
The work side. The beautiful side. The rich side. The talented side.
You don't always know the inside.
Or the past. Or what goes on behind closed doors. Or in their mind. Or to their family. Their job. Their dreams.
If in fact they had any......
Dreams.
Does everyone have "dreams"? Do they? Or did they?
I think people often SAY they had or have this or that dream...but I don't know if I always believe it...REALLY?! Your absolute DREAM is to open and bed and breakfast and wash a 100 sheets a week and get up at 4 am and make hot cinnamon rolls every morning for wacky strangers wearing jean shorts?! Really....? That's your big fat dream?!
Did everyone assume they were special? Growing up...or in "young adulthood".
I'm not gonna lie. I did.
I totally did.
My biggest fear growing up was being "average".
AAAAnnnnnd welcome. Here I am.
Is, in fact, our biggest fear what we know will be true? hmmmmm?
I had a friend who's biggest fear was being alone when s/he was older. And, quite frankly, I totally see that happening for that person.
Poor little Lonely Loner-some.
....Do we somehow know what will happen to us, and that, then, is the fear? Do we have the inkling (sp?) and that triggers the fear in our mind?
Are you following?
I feel like I have opened up about 15 topics and have not stayed on task with a-one.
I would like to take this brief moment to revisit thought numero uno. It's easy to be down on one's self.....because of only seeing one side.....
It's like this. I'm super jealous of my friend's (lady red nails) hands. She has the most beautiful elegant hands and has the nicest mannerisms. So I'm always like...man, I wish I had so and so's hands.
But good night, you should see her ass?!
I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
The end.
I do.
It is also a pet peeve of mine when people say "I think" before they say something....OBVIOUSLY you think that or else you wouldn't be SAYING it....ya dig?
So I'm not sure why I wrote it, since it annoys me....but alas.
I wrote it and I'm not erasing it.
I'll try not to do it again.
Back to being down.
On one's self. (Does it sound like I'm full of myself when I say "one's self"...I hope not. This is the same struggle that I have with the "I'm well" vs "Good" answer to the question of "How are you?")
Down on one's self. Stay on task will ya?
It's easy.
And here's why.
Because you only see one side (genreally) of other people's life.
The work side. The beautiful side. The rich side. The talented side.
You don't always know the inside.
Or the past. Or what goes on behind closed doors. Or in their mind. Or to their family. Their job. Their dreams.
If in fact they had any......
Dreams.
Does everyone have "dreams"? Do they? Or did they?
I think people often SAY they had or have this or that dream...but I don't know if I always believe it...REALLY?! Your absolute DREAM is to open and bed and breakfast and wash a 100 sheets a week and get up at 4 am and make hot cinnamon rolls every morning for wacky strangers wearing jean shorts?! Really....? That's your big fat dream?!
Did everyone assume they were special? Growing up...or in "young adulthood".
I'm not gonna lie. I did.
I totally did.
My biggest fear growing up was being "average".
AAAAnnnnnd welcome. Here I am.
Is, in fact, our biggest fear what we know will be true? hmmmmm?
I had a friend who's biggest fear was being alone when s/he was older. And, quite frankly, I totally see that happening for that person.
Poor little Lonely Loner-some.
....Do we somehow know what will happen to us, and that, then, is the fear? Do we have the inkling (sp?) and that triggers the fear in our mind?
Are you following?
I feel like I have opened up about 15 topics and have not stayed on task with a-one.
I would like to take this brief moment to revisit thought numero uno. It's easy to be down on one's self.....because of only seeing one side.....
It's like this. I'm super jealous of my friend's (lady red nails) hands. She has the most beautiful elegant hands and has the nicest mannerisms. So I'm always like...man, I wish I had so and so's hands.
But good night, you should see her ass?!
I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
The end.
I AM.....
Enrolling in this thing ...it's basically a class....that teaches you how to run for office....local, state...whatev.
Hey, a girl has got to have a plan.
Mine is governor. OR......like Alderwoman. That's not really my ultimate plan, but I am thinking it might spice things up! You know? I could get some new power suits....a fancy brief case.
Have an opinion.
I know....Right?
The Dub was like...what?! Are you KIDDING me? You are NOT running for any kind of office.
I know you and you'll never do it.
I'm like, " Yes I might. I seriously just MIGHT."
He goes, "You won't....Why don't you just take a class in learning how to be a better wife!?"
BEEEGAAAHA?!?!?!?
AS IF!
So, now, of course, I have to!!
Run for office that is.
And why not? Let's bring some style back into those stuffy board meetings. And red shoes.
AND some snacks.
That is the first thing I will do as elected official. Make snacks mandatory for those meetings. AND a time limit....becasuse, girl, please....and let's face it, most of you readers are girls (And LOMINO :) ...... A lot of those blow hards just loooove nothing more than to hear the sound of their own over-confident, under-qualified voices.
So. Bottom line is....If I've ever done anything unscrupulous and you were around, please do not tell the Rockford Press when they come a-knockin. I mean. I'm about to be a political figure.
A very big deal.
Basically. Kind of. Ish.
This is Stephanie Wasemiller, elected official, signing off.
***...Where in the HELL is my secret service?! Those guys keep ditching me...AND stealing my snacks. I'm seriously going to have to hire some ex-Pathfinders to get the job done. And done.
Hey, a girl has got to have a plan.
Mine is governor. OR......like Alderwoman. That's not really my ultimate plan, but I am thinking it might spice things up! You know? I could get some new power suits....a fancy brief case.
Have an opinion.
I know....Right?
The Dub was like...what?! Are you KIDDING me? You are NOT running for any kind of office.
I know you and you'll never do it.
I'm like, " Yes I might. I seriously just MIGHT."
He goes, "You won't....Why don't you just take a class in learning how to be a better wife!?"
BEEEGAAAHA?!?!?!?
AS IF!
So, now, of course, I have to!!
Run for office that is.
And why not? Let's bring some style back into those stuffy board meetings. And red shoes.
AND some snacks.
That is the first thing I will do as elected official. Make snacks mandatory for those meetings. AND a time limit....becasuse, girl, please....and let's face it, most of you readers are girls (And LOMINO :) ...... A lot of those blow hards just loooove nothing more than to hear the sound of their own over-confident, under-qualified voices.
So. Bottom line is....If I've ever done anything unscrupulous and you were around, please do not tell the Rockford Press when they come a-knockin. I mean. I'm about to be a political figure.
A very big deal.
Basically. Kind of. Ish.
This is Stephanie Wasemiller, elected official, signing off.
***...Where in the HELL is my secret service?! Those guys keep ditching me...AND stealing my snacks. I'm seriously going to have to hire some ex-Pathfinders to get the job done. And done.
JUST WONDERIN......
How oftern do you "call in sick"?
AND....how many of those times are you truly, seirously, down-and-out sick?
Do you take a day just when you cannot stand your co-workers for one more dibilitating moment? Or only when you are straight up about to die of scarlette fever....if in fact, it even still exists?
I really don't think people need to take as many sick days as they do....normally.
Not saying I haven't called in sick when I've been pool side Palm Springs...not saying that at all...(DER)
Here's my theory....when you're self-employed, you get your ass to work...because it's your money, your business....your life.
When you work for someone else, it's not such a big deal, because the buckage isn't coming directly out of your pocket for a day missed.
Ya dig?
.....But then, if you're working for someone else, chances are....and not always, I understand....but GENERALLY, chances are that you aren't following your heart's desir. Your passion....or calling or whatever.
Chances are, you're just goofing around on myspace all day anyway....and you can do that from home. Or looking for new jobs or applying for new schools or filling out on-line quizzes and updating fantasy football.
Chances are.
You're just working to pay the bills.
Generally.
If you didn't get paid, you prob wouldn't be just dyyyying to go to work and would do it anyway...now some of you would...it's true...but most...Negative.
So anyway, just curious as to how often everyone calls in sick when they're not, and how you all (or y'all in the South) feel about it when you do.
If anyone wants to meet in Vegas tomorrow for lunch, I'm calling in sick.
AND....how many of those times are you truly, seirously, down-and-out sick?
Do you take a day just when you cannot stand your co-workers for one more dibilitating moment? Or only when you are straight up about to die of scarlette fever....if in fact, it even still exists?
I really don't think people need to take as many sick days as they do....normally.
Not saying I haven't called in sick when I've been pool side Palm Springs...not saying that at all...(DER)
Here's my theory....when you're self-employed, you get your ass to work...because it's your money, your business....your life.
When you work for someone else, it's not such a big deal, because the buckage isn't coming directly out of your pocket for a day missed.
Ya dig?
.....But then, if you're working for someone else, chances are....and not always, I understand....but GENERALLY, chances are that you aren't following your heart's desir. Your passion....or calling or whatever.
Chances are, you're just goofing around on myspace all day anyway....and you can do that from home. Or looking for new jobs or applying for new schools or filling out on-line quizzes and updating fantasy football.
Chances are.
You're just working to pay the bills.
Generally.
If you didn't get paid, you prob wouldn't be just dyyyying to go to work and would do it anyway...now some of you would...it's true...but most...Negative.
So anyway, just curious as to how often everyone calls in sick when they're not, and how you all (or y'all in the South) feel about it when you do.
If anyone wants to meet in Vegas tomorrow for lunch, I'm calling in sick.
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