Don't Quit Your Day Job, Mr. Maestro

File your complaints here:

To the woman driving the gold Honda Odyssey van with the Ragnar sticker headed north on I-15 this morning, you are a cotton-headed ninny-muggins. Pardon the language, folks. But I feel confident in declaring this woman the most clueless human being on Earth.

Did you even run in a Ragnar race? Probably not. I'm sure they disqualified you not long after you started for CUTTING PEOPLE OFF! Thanks for turning into my lane at 5 mph when there was no one behind me for miles... you must've been in a big rush. I could tell by your turtle-paced speed. How about the three times you cut me off without signaling on the freeway, just to go slower than I was going? Those were my personal favorite moves. You must be in a big hurry, something important going on. . . I could tell be the very animated conversation you were having the entire time you were blocking me from changing lanes in traffic. I've never wanted to go-go-Gadget into a monster truck and run someone over so bad in my life.

By the way, did you notice that you were in a car? On the freeway? Driving?

If you know anyone who fits the description of this woman, you have my full and encouraged permission to slug her in the stomach. Then yell, "Take that, soccer mom," and flee for your life.

Where are my daisy dukes, belly shirts, and rollerblades when I need them?

Click play on this music video and close your eyes while you listen. Why? First of all, the video and audio are off sync. Second, ODB's teeth in the beginning might make you ill as you find yourself pondering when the last time was that you flossed your teeth. And I don't want to play the role of tooth fairy queen right now. But, mostly close your eyes to picture where you where ten years ago when you were listening to this song.

And then open your eyes about 4 minutes 50 seconds into the song and ask yourself why Mariah Carey in on rollerblades in this video when rollerblades hadn't been cool for at LEAST five years all ready.

Ten years ago, I was in my in my green Chevy Cavalier, Kermit II, with the top down, driving along Highway 89 well under the speed limit. It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday and I hadn't yet mastered the art of driving the speed limit while singing along with a car full of girls. I believe this was the night I was pulled over for suspected drunk driving.

I was also in gym class with Mr. Horne, who I still suspect to be a pervert. I was playing basketball in the field house with Jessica and, I think, Jarilyn. We would sing the lyrics to each other as we pretended to play the sport. This might have been the time I got caught goofing off and as a punishment, the entire class had to do ten sets of lunges across the length of the gym. Sorry about that, guys. By the way, I cheated on the lunges, too.

So, I guess I just wanted to say, "Thanks, Mariah, for the memories. May your career move forward with even more terrible hits with grilled-men who can't really sing."

When bad clothes happen to good people

Just when you thought you were getting used to the low jeans that show your ambition to be a plumber  every time you bend over, mother fashion comes back with an old style and bites you in the backside!

Something has happened . . . something big . . . something neither you or I can prepare ourselves for . . .

HIGH-WAIST, MOM-BUM PANTS!

They're all over the place! While doing some shopping in Vegas last month, I innocently picked up a pair of what I thought to be baggy, khaki,  cargo capris. Boy, was I wrong. The waist came up almost above my belly button and the legs of the capris were tapered. . . TAPERED, I tell you! I threw the pants down and have tried my best to forget about the incident and move on.

But then, I was doing some online shopping during a brain break today (only window shopping, honey), and I saw these:

And these:

And even these:

Even these skinny models have what I lovingly refer to as "mom bum" in these pants as seen here:

And here:

The proof is in the puddin', people. These pants are back, and they're here to stay. We've gotten rid of them once, and I believe we can do it again! Please show your support for this cause in one of two ways: (1) Tell everyone you know and love. Warn them about the effects of these pants. Consider starting a support group for people who have a weakness for this style. (2) Give of your time and money by entering and scouring clothing retailers near you. Find pants that fit this description, buy them, and burn them! 

Remember, friends don't let friends wear high-waited, tapered pants. Together, we can make a difference.

Sheesh

Twenty-one of my friends on facebook are "fans" of Glenn Beck. C'mon guys.

"Hi. I'm Glenn Beck and the world is ending every day. So I yell at times. And sometimes I pause for dramatic emphasis. And really, I think I missed my calling in life as an evangelical preacher."

That's really all I have to say about that.

Let's get this over with

There's no other way to say it. I have been sucked in by The Bachelorette. I never thought I'd be one of those girls. It started only a few weeks ago in Oregon with my Husband's family. Tonight's the episode where Alli goes home to each of the boys' houses and meets their families.
(side note: Alli laughs way too much.I bet her face gets really, really tired.)
The only problem is that I fall in love with each of the boys for Alli when she meets their families. I thought I was all about Roberto, but THEN she met Chris' family. How adorable is he? And his dad? Don't you just want to adopt them?
Oh, man. Chris is going to be so crushed when she doesn't choose him.
I choose Chris. Final answer. I think I like him so much because he reminds me of my husband . . . Kind of a tender heart.

Kirk's dad . . . Creepy! Though I love his parent's accents. Makes me miss "Bobby's World," don't ya know.
Now Kirk's mom . . . What a sweetie. Let's just sneak into her house and replace her pink lipstick with a clear lipgloss. She'll thank us later.

Oh, I feel so bad for these boys. These are some really strong feelings that these guys are messing with.

Frank accidentally put women's clothing on today. Poor guy. Why does she Like him? I'm pretty sure he likes boys. He has the emotions of a pubescent teen.
And I don't have any more comments about Kirk-pants because I care so little about him I stepped out of the room to do some dishes and laundry while Alli met his family.

Kirk! I could have guessed it. Although it should have been Frank. But, hey, maybe this will be just what Kirk needs . . . To be dumped. Welcome to the club, buddy.

You can take a horse to water . . .

I have been told that I need to drink more water more times than I can count.

"Mom, I have a headache." "You need to drink more water."
"My skin isn't very clear lately, esthetician." "Are you drinking lots of water?"
"I"m tired in the afternoons at work." "Drink lots of water."
"I can't seem to dismantle this bomb that's about to explode." "Be sure to drink lots of water."

I know that the health benefits from drinking a ton of water a day are many, but the many trips to the restroom during the most important moments of my day or night seem to negate the little bit I care about drinking lots of water.

I bought a 20 oz. water bottle for work. I told myself I needed to drink and empty the bottle at least three times in the work day. Turns out, the bottle method actually made me drink water less often. I guess I thought my bottle was cuter than it actually is. But then, I found the mug method. I have a black, stoneware mug with a red inside that I got from my company sometime last year. It's been a great decoration/dust collector on my desk for sometime. But it came in handy last week when I accidentally left my water bottle at home.

Now I can't stop drinking water from the mug. There's something about lifting a mug up to your mouth every few minutes that makes you feel like you're important. I like to wait until someone walks into my office to talk to me. And while they're talking, I'll lift the mug for a sip and furrow my eyebrows, with an occasional nod to show them how intently I'm listening. And I can't help but wonder how often they're thinking that I look so sophisticated. Plus, I think I've totaled at least 18 ounces of water so far today. This mug-thing could really change things for me. I suspect the owner of the company ought to be calling me into his office anytime to ask for my advice on important matters. If only I were a boy, I would sport a short mustache to accompany the mug. So far, all I can think of for a woman to accompany the mug is a bun and a pair of glasses. If it weren't so darned hot, I'd be wearing blazers and turtlenecks.

Anyhow, I just had to throw down some thoughts about this monumental discovery of mine. I'm thinking that if I should continue this trend, I should be able to resolve all world hunger problems soon.

On that day in history . . .

4th of July, 2009

Last year, I spent the 4th of July as I usually do . . . Sleeping in and rushing to make it to the parade early enough to get a decent parking spot. I danced around and fought for candy, then headed to The Training Table for lunch with the fam. There was probably some swimming in the afternoon, possibly even a cat nap, then I gussied myself up for the fireworks at the local high school. I was, of course, planning on meeting up with dozens of my single pals.

TMIM offered to pick me up for the fireworks. When he showed up at the house, I invited him to join in on the family BBQ taking place in the backyard. Being a man, he accepted the invitation. He already knew about half of my family, so I didn't think it would seem a big deal to have him at a family gathering. Boy, was I wrong. The teasing from the nephews was relentless in the few minutes we were there. As soon as I could, I gave him the "Let's get out of here look," and we were on our way to the fireworks.

We brought a blanket to sit on with our friends and chatted until we found them. That was the last I saw of TMIM that night. I spent the rest of the fireworks next to my good friend, Michelle, trying to hold back tears of frustration and figure out why I was so bothered that TMIM was sitting next to a girl that wasn't me!

When the show was over and we met up, I asked him to take me home before he could finish telling me about the after party at his place. The awkward walk to the car seemed like it would never end! Then, as if things weren't painful enough for me, he began to tell me what a great time he had sitting by that other girl. I wanted to vomit. Then irony took it's place and Colbie Callet's song "Falling For You" came on the radio. TMIM sang along here and there, and I made my best effort not to punch him in the face.

I was so mad at him, and I had no idea why. I was mad that I cared that he wasn't sitting with me. And I was mad that nobody told me that I could start having feelings for a friend . . . Especially when it was completely unplanned.

And then I met back up with my friend Michelle, told her I was feeling weird and didn't want to talk about it. After that, I laughed harder with my friend than I had in years. I went home thinking everything was fine and that my feelings had calmed back to how they should be.

But, I'd never been more wrong in my life.