Note to all single guys

Asking a woman if the "carpet" matches the "drapes" is not a winning start to a conversation or email.

Unless she happens to be an interior decorator.

But even then, I bet she'd think it was icky.

MIA

Dude.

Leaving town for a week and not having regular fast internet service has really taken it's toll. I am so very behind in blogging AND I haven't even begun to read the myriad of posts that are piling up in my Google Reader.

UGH.

I actually have a couple of funny topics to write about and have some other things that I've been processing that I'd like your feedback on...but for now, I'm being lazy.

So there's that.

And now...page two.

After I saw one of the Backstreet Boys at Elizabeth's graduation, I had to capture these moments... I won't donate a whole post to each one of them...mostly because I'm pretty sure you're tired of hearing about weird things in El Paso.

First, there was the photographer at the graduation that only had one leg:

And the celebration dinner afterward? It was held at a Mediterranean restaurant that had a belly dancer.
Oh and also BLARING music overhead. Don't believe me? Look at our friends having a fun time. Why, you can almost see the headache forming...
And no, he wasn't posing for that picture.

But hey, the place had hookahs everywhere...and that was nice. :)Alright, truth time. The food was excellent, the photographer actually had two legs, and the music was loud AND horrible.

Backstreet's back (all right!) (also called Craziness in El Paso, take 3)

Last week, I was in this hellhole El Paso for my younger sister's college graduation.

While waiting for the group to arrive in the Don Haskin's center, we noted that there was super secret service/security working the crowd. Now, Elizabeth graduated with an associates degree. I think it's safe to assume that no one in the crowd wished to harm a future nurse, baker, photographer, or even cosmetologist. Therefore, I didn't quite understand the guys...in suits...guarding the people. Which people? THE PEOPLE. Which people? Us, graduates, veterans? Who knows.

They were guarding the people from the dangers. It was like LIVING a 6 o-clock news broadcast (as in: What common graduation gift could kill you and yours? More at 11 - here on Channel 2). Apparently balloons are bad. So are flowers. So are air horns. So are cellophane wrappers. Also packages of peanuts.

Anyway, the super secret service/security guard in front of us took his job very seriously. So seriously, that I stared at him. They were wearing suits and headphone thingies. And that's when I noticed that I have seen him before. He's totally an old Backstreet Boy singer! You know, there's Mickey, Justin (oh la la!), Phil, Ted, Clint, and Howie.

Anyway, this is clearly one of them - the guy in the suit... you know, the one humming "The Right Stuff."Here he is scanning the crowd for any Tiffany posters.

And here he is telling a reporter that he's not available for comment as to whether he's the "gay one" or the "bad boy":
So there's that.

Yes, it really is that big :)

Chassis is huge. How big is she? To approximate, take however big you THINK she's going to be and multiply that times how many small dogs you have been around in your life. Then double it.

Here she is a couple of years ago at my mom's house in El Paso.
And the dog next to her? That's a 40 pound dog. Note the height of the door handles. Yes, she's THAT big.

So on the ride down to El Paso (Saturday) I wanted to make sure that she was as comfy as possible in the MINI. Which meant padding the back area, packing all of my stuff in the passenger seat, and renting a gas mask for me for any farts. Seriously, it's like a gas chamber/hot box in there.

To demonstrate the storage space of the MINI (I'm talking to you Guadagno), I give you Chassis...
Because the just wasn't quite as close to me as she'd like, she decided to sleep closer as the trip wore on.
Note the close proximity of her face to my face. This is so that when she got hot during the trip, she could turn her head slightly towards me and then pant. Hot. Smelly. Breathing. In. My. Noseholes.

I've never been so happy to get out of a car in my life.

Craziness in El Paso, part two (also called "Yeah, why?")

Again, at the airport.
Since sometimes blogger shrinks your images and you can't get a closer look, I'll tell you what it says.

First, it is for a place that handles logistics of shipping - i.e. a trucking company with extras.

Second, the sign says, "If you need and experienced Warehouse Provider, then why use a Trucking Company/Customs Broker that also has a Warehouse?"

Further below it talks about how this company DOES have a warehouse. And also "Exceeding Customers' Expectations Since 1962."

There are so very many things wrong with this poster, I don't even know what to say. Except that whatever employee was in charge of editing is fired. The punctuation alone is enough to make me tear out my hair.

This post is like a Clint Eastwood movie

The good:

Tuesday afternoon, I went to a doctor that I have been seeing for SEVEN weeks about an health issue. Seven weeks ago I was told to stop working out - cardio and weights. Tuesday he cleared me to start being able to exercise again. The happiness that I felt after he said those words was pretty cool and it helped me realize that my mind is changing into a healthier mindset.

The bad:

He told me not to work out very hard and start at 20 minutes. Also, for the time being I should stick to cardio only. I realized that I would have to ramp up to the level that I was at before this happened, but wasn't too worried about it. Umm...I can't really come up with much else that is soley bad...everything is pretty much overshadowed by the "good" so I have to stop this paragraph. :)

The ugly:

So there I am working out... I'm hitting the elliptical at the same rate I was before (albeit on a lower intensity level). I was at a high number of steps per minute and I'm feeling pretty great actually. I'm listening to my new workout mix - full of songs that I have deliberately tried NOT to listen to because I want them to feel fresh during my workout. And that's when it hits me.

I cannot remember the combination to the lock. You know, the one that I just put on the 24 Hour Fitness' locker. The one that has all my stuff in it.

For the rest of the work out, I'm trying to think of any memorization technique to bring back the combination. I tried to use "The Secret," I tried to picture the combination on the piece of paper that was stuck to the lock when I bought it. I was remembering numbers! It worked. I was sure that 3 was in it. I was sure that that was the second number. And I was sure that there was a 36 and a 25.

I walked up to my combination lock, took a deep breath and tried 36, 3, 25. Which did not work.

So there I am, sweating profusely, and trying not to look like a creepy person that is trying to break into someone else's locker. All I can remember is that there was a 3 in the combination. And then I convince myself that the other two numbers are multiples of three. All of the sudden, I turn into that guy from "A Beautiful Mind" because I'm coming up with all possible combinations of three, or multiples thereof. I'm practically using Differential Equations and graphs of derivates of x to come up with the stupid fricking combination!

Every time, I think to myself, "Yes! That's it!"

Except that it's not.

For a moment, I consider living in the locker room. After all, I have an iPod, I have access to a shower, and 24 Hour Fitness gives out samples of power bars often. But I figure that people may actually start to notice and I think it's against the contract that I signed.

I finally break down and go to the front office where Dimitry is and tell him that I am an idiot. A sweating idiot who cannot for the life of her remember the combination.

Then comes the walk of shame - with an employee caring bolt cutters that are almost bigger than her past all of the people I just worked out with...all the way through the locker room...to cut my lock.

Afterwards, I went to go looking for a new lock. My old one was a Masterlock and was pink. Very cute. But it turns out that many women get a cute lock...so sometimes it was hard to remember which locker was mine.

All I saw at the local Safeway was a plain old black lock. I was torn. I want a new lock so that I can work out...but I didn't want a boring black one. My little sister suggested putting a sticker on it to decorate it. I was thinking about how I could never find a sticker that would look cute on the lock, when a vision of our office's jackass hit me.

So here's my new lock.

Isn't it cute? And no, I don't know the combination. :)

Having sex in a pan

Remember the last time Lance and I played each other in Fantasy Football?

This past week, we played in the finals...and before that we made the same bet as last time. The loser has to be the girl and make something sweet and delicious from the kitchen.

I won.

So Lance made a thing that Larry called "Sex in a Pan." I'm never had sex in a pan, so I can't quite comment if they taste the same.

However, Lance was not quite as creative as I was in the decorating part.

Here is how the dessert looked when it came to work:

After a quick bout with Microsoft's Paint application, we have what I think Lance would've written on the dessert...if he had hot pink icing:

Mmmmmm....victory tastes good.

You've GOT to be kidding me

According to weather.com, it was -11 degrees when I woke up.

By the time I got to work it was a balmy -6. Yay fun.

Craziness in El Paso, part one

While waiting in the El Paso airport, I saw this sweatshirt:At first glance, it doesn't look so different than any other hooded sweatshirt.

A closer look reveals a separate pouch. FOR YOUR BOTTLENECK BEER.

As if the dentist's office wasn't bad enough already

Yesterday morning I had my bi-annual dentist check-up.

I have gone to the same dentist for 5 years...and I love her.

I do not, however, love the hygenist. My first experience with her was six months ago (go figure). I have worked very hard to get over that visit...so I can really only recount yesterday's visit. It is strangely VERY similar to the last time.

Her: Hi there. I'm about to put sharp objects in your mouth. And also I am weird.
Me: Great to meet you. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm tall. Maybe you could adjust the head rest thingie?
Her: Sure. I'll pretend to, but really I won't. That's why I suck. Oh, also? Did you know my nickname all through my life? It's "The Riddler."
Me: Why would that be?
Her: Oh...you'll see...

(alright the above part is a bit of an exaggeration...but the following IS what happened - no embelishment...okay, very LITTLE embelishment)

Her: So, have you done all of your holiday shopping this year?
Me: (remembering that she is "The Riddler" and trying to answer in one word answers) Yep.
Her: Wow. Great. I love Christmas. What is the present that you're most excited to give?
Me: Um...it's a long story.
Her: Oh. Okay.
COMFORTABLE SILENCE (apparently not so comfortable to her)
Her: So, are you working today or are you off?
Me: It's 7 in the morning...so yeah, I'm working today.
Her: Well, you never know! Some people just love coming in in the morning.
COMFORTABLE SILENCE
Her: So...do you know what the weather is going to be like this weekend?
Me: No.
Her: Why not?
Me: Because I'm going to be out of town. (and then I did a mental head slap for being so stupid)
Her: Oh really? Where are you going to go?
Me: El Paso.
Her: Wow. Where they make the sauce?
Me: No. (I still can't resist wanting to punch people who think that El Paso is where the salsa is made. PEOPLE WISEN UP!)
Her: Are you going for work or fun?
Me: Fun
Her: Oh really? Are you going for just the weekend or for Christmas?
Me: Both. (Tricky, really. I'm going for the weekend, coming back, and then going home again for Christmas)
Her: What?
Me: Both
Her: I don't understand. What do you mean?
Me: It's a long story.
COMFORTABLE SILENCE
Her: So are you moving there?
Me: What?
Her: Are you moving to El Paso?
Me: No.
....and SCENE!

Seriously, it went like this for AN HOUR.

It's as if somehow me giving one word answers was the go-ahead she needed to ask more detailed questions. I couldn't figure out if she was just crazy, needy or possibly wanting to rob my house while I was gone.

And yes, I'm asking for a different hygenist if they have one - if not, I'm asking for recommendations for dentists.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus

I know some of you *think* you know how dorky I am. But the truth is, I am a HUGE dork.

A month or so ago, I was talking to Larry (the guy that hired me and the guy that is sort of my boss). I was telling him a story about something COMPLETELY unrelated to dorkiness. Only I said the phrase, "So my friend Will, whom I met at Space Camp..." and Larry stopped me and made a huge fuss about how dorky I was. I insisted that going to Space Camp was super cool - especially when I was in 7th grade. I will save my space camp travel adventures for another post, but suffice it to say, I was thrilled. And there were CUTE boys there. Like Kyle. (sigh) He was dreamy.

Anyway, Larry thought this was funny. So he took my picture of my mascot for fantasy football (which was this):

and put his own version up over it (which was this):

In case you can't tell, my new mascot is wearing a space helmet and carrying a light saber. Despite several statements of how "Star Wars" is not the same as "Space Camp," everyone thought it was funny. And besides, the mascot looks cute in any thing. So I kept the picture up. My picture of me in glasses in my cube from earlier even shows it - look!

Fast forward to this morning... the guy from the receiving department walks in the door with a HUGE package. I, being the smart ass I am, started asking in an annoying way if the package was from Santa and for me. About 15 times I asked.

Finally the warehouse guy turns around and says, "Well, I'm not sure which Anne it's for" (there are two Anne's in my office).

And I see that the package looks like this:

My heart literally lept inside me! I was disappointed that Santa didn't know how to spell my name, but depending on the gift inside, I was prepared to forgive him.

I opened up the package only to find a light saber! :)

And a note from Santa!

The note says:

Dear Anne,
Even though youhave not been all that good this year, I could not help but to give you a little something. I know it has been a few years since "camp" but I thougth maybe this would spark your Jedi ways again. Try to be a little better this year so I can do more for you next Christmas.
Love always,
SANTA

And I think that proves something significant.

Santa DOES know how to spell my name. It's just his elves that messed up on the package.

Why you should join Facebook and why my friends want to de-friend me

I'm a smart ass. This we know.

But once upon a time, a long long time ago, I wasn't such a smart ass - at least not out loud. I mean, I still thought the same comments, but for some reason I tried to not let others know, for fear they would think I was bullying them.

These days, I've embraced my smart-ass-ness. I really just want to be funny. I am never a smart ass with the intent to hurt someone's feelings. So if I find out that it offended them, I am quick to say I'm sorry.

But the thing is, some of my friends from a long time ago don't know that. And so now I'm on Facebook and I can't help being a smart ass. BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY.

So like this morning... I was on Facebook and saw a "friend" (I'll call him Sam Bird - but that is clearly not his name) who had a picture of his two little kids. His kids, for the record, are cute. I mean, I'm not sure if they're cute in the face or not, but their bodies are cute. Here is the picture.

Cute right? But also, really funny to me. So I posted this comment:

"Okay - after being on here a week, I decided to break down and ask.
Is your daughter:
a) stuck in a pumpkin
b) eating the shell of a pumpkin
c) throwing up the everclear that you put in her bottle in the most convenient place (i.e. a recently hollowed out pumpkin)?"

His response:
"Ha, hi Anne, it's been a long time.
No, when your 2.5 your arms are short enough that when you reach to the bottom you head happens to come in contact with the top of the pumpkin."

Gramatical errors aside, I think his response is funny. First, um...yeah, I did not actually think you spiked your kids' sippy cup. Because that's just mean. Or very helpful and useful. I don't quite know because I don't have kids.

What I do think is VERY funny is his first line: Ha, hi Anne, it's been a long time. As in, "Boy Anne, you are not funny. And quite honestly, you exhaust me. It's been a long time, but not long enough if you're going to post comments like that on pictures that I love of my innocent kids. Also, I'm de-friending you."

So there you have it. If you haven't joined Facebook (cough cough - that means you) you are missing out on me posting smartass comments on YOUR photos.

And that is the gift that keeps on giving.

Now that's what I call old

This weekend I was wrapping Christmas presents. When I started wrapping them, I was watching a show on MTV called "Celebrity Rehab." I found I'm not a big fan. But since the remote was all the way up on the couch arm and I was on the floor it seemed like too much effort to change the channel.

Anyway, the commercial for "Now That's What I Call Music" came on 28 times during the half hour of TV I watched. Around the 17th time, I realized that I am old.

I used to know all of the songs that they featured on the commercial. Ride the Train? Check. Total Eclipse of the Heart? Check. Tootsie Roll? Check.

But now, with their latest version (I think they're on 853,921), I've realized that I recognized two songs and only four artists. Ne-yo is one of the many artists I don't even kind of recognize. Seriously? That's this guy's name?

(sigh)

I am old.

To make me feel not so old, please let me know what your favorite dance song is. It does not necessarily have to have been featured on "Now That's What I Call Music" but you get bonus points if it has.

I'll start you off...Mine? It's "Ride the Train."

Don't let the picture fool you

I don't like cats. They are evil.

I don't like them. To be fair, I guess I should say that I don't like 99% of them...since I haven't met EVERY cat. To date, there are three cats that I have liked a lot. Their names were Clyde, Calvin, and Link. And only one is still alive.

Reasons I don't like most cats:

1. They seem to be mean. You pet them and they purr and purr and purr...that is until they bite you. You have about 0.1 seconds of warning. And then just pain. I don't get it. They're clearly enjoying it. I'm not changing how hard I press or where I'm petting...they just bite for no reason.

2. Cat Scratch Fever is NOT just a catchy tune. Lance was bitten/scratched by a cat and had to go to the hospital and have surgery because of it.

3. They walk on counter tops... the same counter tops that you prepare food on.

4. I am allergic to them.

5. They scratch the furniture. And since you can't really crate a cat, you really can't have any preventative measures.

6. They are hard to train.

7. They walk all over you whenever THEY want to.

8. They are finicky eaters.

9. They suffocate babies.

10. They don't want to be cuddled or loved on.

11. They are not like dogs.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want bad things to happen to cats. And I don't think that all dogs are fantastic. I like well behaved dogs - and I guess that's my issue with cats. You can't train them...so they're like ill-behaved children running around.

The cat pictured above is my dad's cat, Talley. She is also crazy. But she sort of looks like a muppet...and that makes me half-way like her.

Slow

Sometimes I'm slow. And I'm not just talking about the times when I'm walking around the mall and stuck behind other people who are walking in a zig zag fashion at about 0.1 mph.

I'm talking about how I just ended NaBloPoMo and I'm posting today.

AND I'm talking about how people told me how cool Facebook was and I was all, "Dude. I have a myspace page. And it is pretty fly. And I've contacted people via myspace. So what can Facebook really bring me?"

And then others told me of it's general fantastic-ness. But I found out that you had to put your full name on Facebook. Having been stalked by ex-boyfriends, I didn't find this too exciting. But then I learned that not just anyone can see your profile...you have to approve them. And that is something I could get behind.

So this afternoon, I joined.

It is a mecca of people that you forgot. Lots of people you wish you still could forget. But buried in there are people that you didn't want to forget - it just happened.

Facebook is smart. It takes people you are friends with and then suggests people that you might know too. So it's like searching for people lazy style. And hello! I love lazy.

The best thing is that you can post smart ass comments about people and things via a wall. A wall of comments. Facebook had me at "smart ass comments."

So I'm here to tell you that Facebook rocks. Perhaps I love it so much because I went to high school in Texas and college in Missouri. So I don't exactly see Michael Guadagno every day. And how can you NOT want to be friends with a guy who has the last name of Guadagno? It's virtually impossible.

Alright, friends, I'm off to the bathroom to put on my face to look pretty for a first date tonight. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure it'll end in drunken craziness and a perscription for Plan B, but it should be adventurous all the same.

OMG I AM KIDDING. You don't need a perscription for Plan B anymore.

One month and one year

It's been one month since I started this whole NaBloPoMo thing. And I have to say that I'm proud that I made it through. I posted on days when it wasn't the most comfortable thing to do - and I'm so glad that I did. I found support in your comments. I made new friends. I laughed. I cried. I hurled. :)

It has also been one year to the day since I closed on my new place.

I'll be honest. I hardly gave this new place a shot until a month or so ago. See, shortly after I moved, I decided I wanted to leave. And although that new adventure hasn't happened, it has forced me to deal with living here. What I've found in it's place is a new adventure. This past year has taught me a lot about me.

My new place is fantastic...truly. And just because I've had issues with the fridge, the TV, and mice (yes - I had mice in my house in February...how did I not ever post about that??!?!) I'm starting to see it as a home...one that I will be happy in.

I am actually really enjoying living in Colorado...starting to put down roots, starting to trust new friends, and (gasp!) starting to date again.

I can't wait to find out what the next year (or even the next month) will bring.

Difficulties

Playing gin rummy is hard when you don't quite remember the specifics.

Like how many cards you can have, how the scoring system works, and how many cards you need to create a run or set...those things might be important.

I'm just saying.

P.S. 31 posts. Dude. I am so glad that tomorrow will be here, because then I won't feel guilty for not posting. And also, I'll just be glad to sleep in my own bed...Chicago has been fun, but it'll be good to get back.

I will answer to nothing else...

Your Rapper Name Is...

Vanilla Scrappy

What's" Your Rapper Name?

Thanks to Lisa and Jen for the idea. I'm too full of turkey to come up with a quality post...

My dad owns a gay bar

It's true.

But first, I have to let you know that my dad is a VERY conservative guy. His family is from Alabama and his dad was in the Army. My dad grew up and joined the Army too and became a doctor in the Army. Although he retired from the Army in 1995, he still practices and will be retiring next month.

Anyway, for those that know him, my dad is a no frills kind of guy. He, in general, does not have what I would call a great sense of humor. Very stern and quiet.

My dad just bought his first house since my parents seperation... in 1995. As in 13 years ago. Anyway, the house, as I found out yesterday, is beautiful. Not my taste, but I'm not 65.

So in the guest bathroom on the main floor, I saw this sink. Again, not so much my taste.

It's surrounded by a mural on the wall.

A closer look and I saw the bar of soap:
Niiice. I think it goes nicely with the gold flecked sink.

My goal this weekend? To broach the topic gently and try to find out if he is doing it because he has a sense of humor or because he wasn't aware what it implies.

What I look like these days...

I took these two pictures this morning with my brand new camera! :) I'm so excited to have pictures of me that I just couldn't wait to post. Also, I am a dork.


It's admittedly not a great picture - mainly because I've got some serious shadowing behind me.





And this is me at work. What's that? You didn't recognize me? I'm not surprised... I have glasses on. It's my disguise ala Clark Kent. Totally looks like a different person right? No? Okay, maybe Lois was just REALLY stupid.

Tada! :)

Don't know what you forgot, until you're gone...

The title of this post is a bastardization of the one Cinderella song I know.

This morning, I woke up bright and early to pack for my trip to Chicago. I have never been good about packing the night before. I'm not sure if I'm waiting for some epiphany on what I should wear during the trip, but packing before the day of the trip just seems wrong. If it means that I get up at 2 AM, then so be it. I'm a dedicated procrastinator.

Anyway, when I am driving in my car, I usually have a feeling of anxiousness, excitement, dread, or something else that gets my stomach all jittery. That is, until I remember what it is that I forgot at home. I always forget SOMETHING no matter how many times I look at my suitcase and go through my mental list of what I need. I know, you're thinking, "Gee Anne. You're pretty anal retentive. And you enjoy lists. Why not make a list for the stuff you need on the trip?" My response would be "Did you just call me pretty? Aww...thanks."

Anyway, I do feel anxious driving away from my house until I realize that thing that I did not pack. And then I feel relaxed and ready to start my trip.

For those that are interested, today it was loose powder. You know, for my face...to make me even prettier.

That's what she said

My co-worker had to bring in his almost 3 year old daughter today. She is adorable. She has the BIGGEST eyes ever...like she really looks like Dora with her Disney character sized eyes.

Anyway, she can't pronounce things just right yet, but when she comes by she happily sings and hums and babbles while her daddy is working in the cube right next to mine.

Today, a few of us were talking to her - asking about Santa, etc. All of the sudden, she pointed to one of the guys and shouted, "You are a penis!" All of our mouths dropped open and we looked to the dad as to what we should say or do.

Apparently, she means to say "peanut" (which is an endearment her parents use) but can't quite get that those words are different.

All prices are not created equal

Picture this: it's 7:30 AM on a Monday morning.

A customer walks in our area in the back that is specifically for people who come to PICK UP their orders. See...I am on a phone all day long helping people understand their system, their valve needs, and then TAKING ORDERS for valves. They can then elect to pick up the orders or have us ship it to them. This is not like Valve-Mart where people can come in and shop for valves. The process takes a little while. Is it customer friendly? No. Not so much.

So the guy walks into our warehouse with a valve that has been eroded with steam (I recognize that this sounds like a joke, but it's not). And yes, steam erodes metal. He wants his valve repaired right then. So the guy who does the boxing up and shipping of the valves (who is a temp and knows next to nothing about valves) comes and gets me to talk to him.

After explaining that his valve is not repairable, I offered to quote him the replacement valve and the thing that is mainly eroded. He doesn't believe me when I say that the valve is not repairable and asks the shipping guy if what I'm saying is right. Since the shipping guy knows nothing about valves, he looks at me, sees my nod, and then tells the customer that what I'm saying is correct. Um....that is irritating, but not as bad as the people that have asked me if they could speak to an engineer, not a woman. Which makes me want to shout that THEY ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE!!

As I'm getting the information for the quote, I ask him his name. To clarify his last name, I asked, "Is it Breeze like the wind or Brees like Drew Brees?" And he says, "Who is Drew Brees?" So that let me know that he is a turd and that I have bigger man-balls than him. *

I let him know that it will take a little bit to put the quote together -maybe 5-10 minutes. He sighs and says that he guesses that that will be okay - but wonders why I don't know enough to quote it right away. Umm...it's because we have about a million parts that have price changes often. He sighed and said that he would "let" me go check. Gee thanks, buddy. He only agreed
because we are located SO FAR AWAY he can't go back to his office. I asked where he was from and he said a suburb that is 20 minutes away. Poor you.

So as I'm walking away, he asks if we have a coffee machine. So I explain again (NICELY, might I point out) that we don't. Most of our customers call ahead so they don't waste a trip out here. Most of our customers can get their questions answered over the phone. Most of our customers are not cranky old men that are condescending jerks.

Anyway, because he was bummed that we didn't have a coffee machine for him, he actually asked, "Hey honey? Well then can you go ahead and fetch me a cup of coffee? Sugar, no cream. Thanks."

I wanted to suggest to him that he could go play a game of hide-and-go-fuck-yourself while he's waiting, but I didn't.

Instead I said we don't have coffee for him. I went back to my desk and marked up his order another 10% from what I would normally charge him.

Consider it my "asshole fee."

*Drew Brees is the quarterback for the New Orleans Saints. Something that most guys with the last name of BREEZE would know. I mean, Christ. If I have to know all of the Kennedys even though my name is NOT Kennedy, he should get to know the name of one of the top QBs.

Even cartoon characters can be dicks...

I hate this commercial:



I'm not even going to type the name of the company that makes it - because I don't the name of that company to soil my webpage. I think their commercials, in general, are creepy.

But this guy? He's just a dick.

It is so condescending and when I watch it, I have to fight the urge to throw my remote at the TV.

If it was ever followed up by the Yoplait ad that I hate, I think that I might actually hurt someone.

And also? A YouTube comment on this commercial says that it looks like this guy is..uhh...freeing more than the cork from the bottle.

Hmm...that might make the commercial bearable.

Nope. It doesn't.

I've made a decision

I'm going to buy a camera. :)

I figured that one of the side benefits of losing weight is being able to have updated pictures - both on here and myspace...and online dating sites if that's how I chose to proceed.

I was really debating which camera to get - one like my friend, Lisa, or one that I wouldn't cry if it got lost. Incidentally, that IS what happened to my last camera. In fact, any pictures on here since May are ones where I've had to get other people drunk just to steal borrow their camera and take pictures that I wanted. Not the cheapest solution by any means.

Another option would be to break into someone's house and literally steal theirs, but then I remembered that I don't think I would like prison.

Someone, slap me

So I've been thinking about doing some online dating...again.

I know two couples that met over the internet and seem to be happy with each other...but I also have horror stories of my own.

Advice?

Anything else you've tried?

And no, none of my friends here in Denver know people who would be a good match.

Disproving my own stupid point

I love my Mac. I just want to get that out there - that if you happen to be a person that has used a PC for most of your adult life, know that I feel you. And I still love my Mac. I encourage you to switch too.

Since I bought it last December, I've noticed that where I put my wrists on the pad has started peeling. Yes, the hard plastic. And it sucks.

So I took my laptop in yesterday and the very helpful guy at the Genius Bar said that he could have his tech guys fix it for free, but that they would need to keep it until today. I knew that this might happen, so I gave over my laptop.

Here's the thing: I got home and it's almost like I didn't know how to function without my laptop.

I knew I didn't have it. It usually sits on the arm of my couch - where I can charge it or type while I'm watching TV or listening to the radio. So every time I looked over I KNEW it wasn't there.

But I found myself continually checking. It was like I had Alzheimer's last night. I'd think of something, dismiss it, wait five seconds, think about something trivial to try to get my mind off of my computer, then realize something else that I wanted to do on my computer, and then realize that I don't have it again. Rinse, repeat. It was a cycle that was starting to drive me crazy.

It was as I was going to bed that I realized that if I wanted to buy a pizza, I really couldn't. I mean, I don't have their number and I couldn't look it up on my computer...so I couldn't order it on the phone. I can't order it on my non-existant computer. I don't keep any phone books in the house (why should I? I have a computer!) and I don't keep their fliers - because typically they only incentivize copious amounts of food which is something I'm not likely to order anyway.

What's the only option left? ORDERING IT VIA TIVO.

(sigh)

Advance in technology that does not, in fact, make your life easier

Have you heard?

There is a new thing for the lazy Americans - when getting off the couch or even just pushing the buttons on your cordless phone seem too hard.

Instead, you can order Domino's pizza through your TiVo.

You can watch a Domino's commercial and then indicate via your remote that you want to order it. You can do it all via the remote...except enter your credit card order. You must have cash when you get the pizza.

Now, in general, I would be happy if my TiVo did anything else for me. It already is one of my favorite electronic advances...I mean, it remembers what programs I want to watch regardless of what time slot it gets shoved in. It knows when Daylight Savings Time is AND it doesn't blink 12:00.

But really? Ordering through your TV? That just sounds like that would take way more time. Even if you live in a cellular Bermuda Triangle like I do (yes - I live close to downtown Denver...which apparently means that signal strength should be at a minimum), wouldn't it be easier to open the laptop and order the computer via wireless internet? My computer is handily located close to my couch at all times. So, see...I'm not dissing the idea of being lazy even doing anything that you can on your couch. But it just seems like this idea would not make my life easier.

But here's the thing that I think is truly funny. You can arrange to have the pizza delivered or you can go and pick it up.

PICK IT UP?!?!?

Who are they marketing to? I mean, SERIOUSLY. Why even have that as an option? WHO is going to go through that kind of pain to order using buttons that in no way are as easy as a keyboard or talking to a live person and then go ahead and drive to the store?

I'm genuinely perplexed...

Apple babies

So I tried a honeycrisp apple last week.

And I love them. Seriously. I think I want to marry them and then have their babies.

But I did, would they come out looking like this?

Realizations

I was in the store trying to pick out the best bunch of bananas.

I realized that a guy next to me was staring at me in a funny way (funny strange not funny ha-ha).

I realized that it might be because I was humming the song that was on the radio when I got out of the car to go into the store.

I realized that humming "Love Machine" in the banana section is considered creepy.

The end.

At least my hair looks cute

I should preface this by saying that Mondays are my trash days - so I typically run a little late on Mondays. Sure, I *could* take out the trash on Sunday nights and put bags in all my trash cans...but that just feels weird. Like I didn't make the most of the FULL week that I had since the last time the trash was picked up.

Okay, so I'm getting ready in the morning and I realize that I have a bit more time on my hands - so I decided to use a round brush to blow dry my hair, which is actually hard to do. Using the blow drier and round brush gives me a sleek and sexy style for the next minute and a half so it's totally worth it. Today's taming of the hair took longer than normal - and when I finished I realized that I had about 2 minutes to take the trash outside, get my make-up on, and pack my lunch.

I let Chassis in the house - only to notice that she is leaving a trail of POOP on the floor from two of her feet. My place is like a railroad car - it's not very wide, but boy is it long. And I'm going to try to ignore the sexual undertone in that sentence.

Anyway, I start saying "NO NO NO NO NO NO" as she's walking through the house - mostly to myself. This has the same reaction as when I was cheering yesterday for the Broncos win - it scares her. Due to the width issue of my house, she can't easily turn around so she started running back to her bed...leaving plops of poo in her wake.

I was finally able to corral her to the back porch and after about five hundred wipes, I was able to remove all of the poop from inside the cavern that is her paw. If you have a dog, you know that their toes all hide a HUGE cavern of space - and that was completely filled with crap. TWO PAW-CAVERNS OF CRAP.

So I got back inside only to realize that I was about 10 minutes late. I break out the Lysol wipes and start wiping up my wood floors (is this bad for my floors? I don't even know) and then take out the trash. I spend the next minute scouring my hands with anti-bacterial soap and scalding hot water. I start wondering if I can use the same method for my nostrils as I can still only smell dog poo. I now am 15 minutes late. And I still don't have make-up on.

So I start slapping it on in the most hurried fashion and that is when I did something that I have never done before.

I stuck the mascara wand in my eye socket.

People, not only does poking your eyeball with a furry stick hurt, but the goop also burns a little. And it starts making my eye tear. Black goop is now running down from my face. I look like Tammy Faye Baker. I grab a tissue and try to mop it up, creating a big splotch of black under my eye. Which means I have now morphed into the guy from "Clockwork Orange."

A quick check at the clock and I am now 23 minutes late. Then again, I can't be sure...because my right eye refuses to open.

I try to wipe it up as best I can - noting that it looks like I've now been punched on one side of my face. So I try to cover it up with a little more foundation. This also covers all traces of my freckles on that side of my face. It's almost like a neon sign pointing to my face saying "DON'T LOOK HERE!"

I walk in the door several minutes late. A co-worker takes one look at me and says "Oh my gosh! You look like crap!" And she wrinkles her nose...which makes me wonder if I actually stepped in the crap residue on the porch. Instead of thanking her for her support I just shrug my shoulders and walk to my desk...waiting until she walks away so that I can check my shoes for crap.

You might be relieved to know that I am crap-free.

Why I have a crush on Paul Rudd

1. He is so very, very, very cute.
2. He allows collages of him to be put up on myspace...as seen below (no, it's not on MY myspace page...although that collage would make mine super fly...after someone saw that they might leave me a glittery comment!):

3. He was a great host on SNL this past weekend - not as good as Justin Timberlake...but that's because JT is the best host ever.
4. He is funny - any interview I've seen him do, he has been light-hearted and delightfully silly.
5. I've never seen him endorse a bladder control (BPH - whatever that stands for) medication.
6. He is SO VERY CUTE.
7. He is a great dancer - so unbelievably sensual! Don't believe me? Please watch the clip from his recent visit to "The Daily Show."


How anyone not think he's dreamy?

(sigh)

P.S. I saw "Role Models" on Friday night and it was very funny.

That's about right...

Today I have talked to no one, save Chassis.

And it has been decadent. :)

I re-arranged furniture, went through some things in the basement, made a huge pile for clothes that no longer fit me so that I can take them to Goodwill, and even figured out a plan of where to store my bike in the winter months.

I still can't work out, but moving and doing things to keep my mind occupied has been helpful - and I have high hopes that I can start adding more activity this coming week. I meet with my doctor for a check-up on Tuesday.

The best realization of today? I am no longer living the life of a star in a bad Lifetime movie. Meredith Baxter-Birney will not be playing me in a TV special. At least not for now.

Aftermath

So as I wrote yesterday, I had a meltdown.

I'm not proud of it - but I'm also letting it go - thanks to the help of two of my friends, both named Kelly.

These last couple of weeks have been very stressful. Things that I had thought I was over - abandonment issues, abuse issues, and life changing issues have all come back around during the last couple of weeks. In addition, I've officially given up on something that I had hoped with all of my might would happen. And my greiving over the loss of what could have been has been intensely painful.

And apparently, my body reacted VERY badly to all of this stress - so it stopped functioning as it should - in a very major way. And that led me to seeing a specialist last week - who told me that working out was a no-no. Sure, I could walk for 20 minutes, but no more running on the eliptical or even lifting weights. So in the middle of dealing with all that stress and not being able to do much physically, I had a choice. I could eat my emotions as I have for the last 20 years, I could quit and say this is just too hard to do without food. Or I could stop. I could stop, breathe, and learn how to cope.

I've started to watch A&E's "Intervention" which is where they tape addicts and their families for a time and then they have an intervention - where the treatment is paid for. At any rate, one of the things that they talk about on that show is how addicts, who have been numbing pain for years, when they stop their abuse they have to learn how to cope.

And that's where I am. Very few coping skills. The one thing that I had learned to turn to - that was good for my body, mind, and health - was no longer an option and won't likely be for weeks. And unloading on people that didn't know about the traumatic things in my life didn't seem like much of an option at the time - I would have to diclose all of the bad stuff...and it was something that I just didn't feel capable of doing right then. Reaching out to the people that live away from here seemed too hard to do repeatedly. I tried...I really did. But the few people I called were busy - promising to call later and didn't. Or after me leaving a sad message on their voicemail they didn't call back. And I know I have other people that could've helped. I do. I just couldn't find my voice to reach out. So I didn't. I wanted to have a safe haven without having to beg for it. I wanted to have someone open their arms and let me break the fuck down, someone to pat me on the back and tell me that it was going to be all right - even if it isn't.

Instead, I let it build - thinking that I could stave off the breakdown. In the past I would've comforted myself in unhealthy ways. But I chose not to continue the unhealthy cycle.

And although I'm proud of that, I'm not proud of how I threw a full on breakdown at a rental car place. I just couldn't keep it together. I just couldn't be strong anymore. And I just couldn't deal - I just couldn't try again. Immediately afterwards, I called Peoria Kelly who talked me out of the immediate danger of that storm. We came up with the plan to at least take a half day from work. To sleep. To heal. She listened to me and apologized for not calling me back, for not being there. And that helped. A lot.

Yesterday, I was in the eye of the storm - realizing that any move I made would whip me back into the storm of emotions. Because although I had gotten out of immediate danger, I still didn't have a plan. I still was processing...any move would once again mean that I had to choose how to cope.

So I accepted Denver Kelly's offer to meet me after work and grab a beer. I leaned on her shoulder and cried about the shit that's happened for the past 20 years - half afraid that at some point, she'd get up, shake her head and say that my life was just too crazy. But she didn't. She listened with sympathy and strength. When I was done, we came up with a plan on how to deal with the issues. She reminded me that I won't see the car people again. And I know that they get shit on daily so realistically, it's not like yesterday was much worse for them. I know - that's not a good excuse, but it is the reality. And it did release the guilt that I had.

I know that if the environment wasn't exactly the way that it was - my physical pain, and the revisiting emotional pain, the absence or refusal to cope in ways that I have in the past, and a myriad of things that were and are beyond my control, it wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have been forced to break.

Now I do have a plan, one that involves getting some professional help in learning coping skills that I can do for myself and by myself. Yesterday taught me that I can lean on people. I have worked past the awkwardness of sharing intensely personal things.

I feel that I've emerged from the storm a little weary, but also having grown. My spirit is bruised, but it is stronger.

The eye of the storm

Yesterday morning, I lost my shit. And what I mean is that I. LOST. MY. SHIT. Totally - a complete freak out/meltdown that I can't stop thinking about.

I'm ashamed and embarrassed - even though I know enough about myself and my life to know that this has been coming for a long time. A really, really long time.

I'm weary and my heart is heavy and as much as I'd like to post something silly and funny, I just can't bring myself to do it today.

I hope you understand.

Chassis

So I figured that since I have some new followers, perhaps I'd write a post about my Great Dane - Chassis. I named her Chassis because I used to be an engineer for GM. And when I worked at the plant in Oklahoma City, I did a lot of work on the chassis line....and I thought that that word sounded pretty feminine, but was also something that was big, strong, and powerful.

Chassis is now three and a half years old. I am not one of those people that calls my dog my "baby" - mostly because she is not. I love her dearly, but I can leave her at home with some water and some food and she's fine. When she was a puppy I even locked her in a crate. I don't have to keep her clothed and I don't even have to send her to school. Also, she did not come out of my body. :) Chassis was the CUTEST puppy I have ever seen - all paws and ears. She was clumsy - perhaps overly so - but that only added to her charm.

She is my dream dog in so many ways. First, she is big and that means that I am not likely to want to punt her when she yips at anything (seriously, I would never kick a dog - even the most puntable ones). Second, she is so very lazy. I do a lot of stuff away from home - which means when I come home, I want to be able to relax by reading, checking blogs, writing blog posts, or by making lists of things I will do when I win the lottery. I can do all these things with Chassis snuggled right beside me. It's even better after a long walk which she really enjoys. Third, she has such a sweet disposition. She is friendly to EVERYONE she meets and lets kids hang on her and pull on her ears...even when I want to punt them.

But there's one thing that only a few of you know about my dog.

And that's that she has a severe neurological disease that is absolutely heart wrenching to watch. She shakes all the time - whether she's standing or lying down - but most violently when she is on her way from standing to sitting or from standing to lying down (with a very brief period of sitting in between). It has now gotten so bad that she pretty much refuses to sit. In fact, it takes her being phenomenally tired for her to even want to lay down.

I've taken her to neurologists and after a lot of tests and money, they have no idea what is causing the tremors. They have tried steroids, meds for hypothyroidism (as this is sometimes related to muscle tremors and she tested VERY slightly in the abnormal range), and a couple of experimental meds- all without any results. The next step would be to do a nerve biopsy - which, as I understand it, is painful and at the end will only give me a name for the disease - but not a cure. As I understand it, her brain doesn't get feedback from the muscles in her body. As she's starting to sti or lay down, her brain doesn't know where her muscles are...so she tenses them to gain more control over them. Which means that they become fatigued - so she tries to tense them more and slows down whatever movement is happening. This means that there is even more pressure/tension which makes her feel more out of control, so she tenses even more. It's a bad cycle that is now affecting her when she's just standing.

So, when I found all of this out last November, I was bummed, but also relieved that it wasn't Wobbler's Syndrome or something very painful. The silver lining is that the neurologist has assured me that she is in no pain.

But the problem is that she is getting worse. And that fact lies like a pit in my stomach. We went to several events this weekend and I saw her shaking way worse when she was just standing - but mostly when she was excited. It was so bad that people started commenting on it. When she drinks or eats, she actually looks like she's a quarterback - getting ready for a hike. Her right leg raises about an inch of the ground repeatedly. It's funny and sweet at the same time.

I made a promise to her and myself - that I would keep loving her and pampering her for as long as she had until she didn't have a good quality of life. The vet told me what to look for when she starts having a worse quality of life and I feel better about being able to recognize those signs. And she currently has a great quality of life...so I hope that that tough decision is still a while away. But to be honest, I know that her getting worse - such that complete strangers are now noticing even when she's standing - is a sign that it will be closer than what I'm actually ready for.

And that breaks my heart.

Why I leave work crying most days

As I alluded to below, I received an award for being all around awesome last year at a training session. They called the award the "Kicking Butt" award. However, our office already had the habit of screaming/yelling "JACKASS!" at people if they did something wrong. And in case you're wondering, I do not work for a sensitivity training company. Anyway, the night that I got the award, a co-worker of mine was drunk on the free alcohol that they had been serving...so he kept yelling "JACKASS!" at me as I got the award. It was oh-so fantastic. He left the company shortly after us returning to Denver.

Here is the picture of me getting the award. And my hair which was usually spikey, flippy, and fun was conquered by Houston's summer humidity...thus me looking like I was wearing a dead muppet on my head.

Upon getting back from the training, my trophy was quickly confiscated by the office - labeling it "Jackass" and placing it in people's cubes when they made an especially stupid mistake.

Example: Lance came up to me one day and said, "I can't figure out why I can't log in to get our expense report submitted. I followed all of the instructions and it still won't work." So I went to his cube only to find out that IN the username field he typed "username" rather than his actual username (i.e. the thing we type about 55 billion times a day). Lance received the jackass award until the next person made a similar type mistake. Sadly, this happens more often than what you'd think.

So, our next bunch went to the same training a few months later. Since they had to fly out on a Sunday, a new employee decided to wear his Broncos jersey to show support for the first game of the season. And when he woke up in the morning, realized he didn't pack any shirts so he wore his jersey that day and then had to buy more shirts in the gift shop of the hotel.

We knew we were going to give him the award for that, but I felt that if the employee needed shirts, perhaps our award needed one too. That's why I made him a Hawaiian shirt.

I also added the sticker to his butt - mainly because I didn't want to see the butthole of an ass. Trust me, it's disturbing.

Here is a close up of the award so you can see the sneer on his face - and also my fancy artwork. Just so you know, he's sporting a super fly collar on the shirt.

And also? I don't know how to label this post - if it should be things I will miss about my job or things that I won't.

Move over, Jackass!

I have a new reader. Her name is Patty...and not only is she thoughtful, funny, and has great taste in blogs, but she also has the cutest blog name, Little Miss Sunshine. I LOVED those books when I was a kid so every time I see her little blog picture, I smile.

Anyway, Patty awarded me with a "I Love Your Blog" button/award. It shouldn't make me gush and feel like an awkward 15 year old boy...but it does. Mainly because I am a cheap whore for any type of praise.

Up until now, the most recent award I got was from a training that I had with my company a year ago. It was a little donkey statuette that was kicking in the air. Since I wowed the people at the training with my quick wit, sly looks, and blackmail attention to detail, I received the award for "kicking butt." BUTT my workplace already had a running joke of calling people JACKASS when they messed up, so it shortly became a traveling trophy in our office as a way to further humiliate someone and remind them of their stupid mistake. More on that later.

Anyway, this award comes with strings attached. And since I LOVE lists and rules, here you go:

Here are the Rules:

1. The winner can put the logo on his/her blog.
2. Link the person from whom you received your award.
3. Nominate at least seven other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours, and
5. Leave a message on the blogs that you've nominated!

I'm awarding the I Love Your Blog award to...

1. Kristi at: From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea
2. Lisa at: The Girls' Blog
3. Ginger at: De-Compostion
4. Jen at: Following the Footsteps
5. Mrssa (I'm not allowed to type her name) at: Turleybenson
6. Mark & Jo at: The Sommerhauser Family
7. Wratch at: Better than a poke in the eye

I picked these people because they are the seven people I know well that I have that blog and have updated it within the past month. It like some of the super blogs I link to are people that have about 50 million readers and I'm not sure that they'd appreciate a blog comment that says "Uh...hey there dooce Heather...whenever you're done counting your money and thinking of hilarious things to write, could you post this blog button? What? Your cyber bodyguards never want me to come here again? Oh. Okay then. Thanks." Like seriously? Some of the people I read just went to a weekend getaway paid for by Quaker Oatmeal to learn about oats. Dude. I read blogs that were written by people who were recruited by oats. Come to think of it, maybe a blog button would be refreshing for them.

For the record, I'm going to add a list of people that I do not know (have never met) but I read their blogs and they are not super duper mega millionaires. I didn't pick them for this award because since I haven't met them, I don't know if they could take me in a knife fight or kick my ass for giving them an award. These cool people? They're like me and you...only more normal than me. So essentially they're you.

Look for changes soon - w00t!!!

Happy birthday, Ginger (+1 month)

So I decided that I might never again vow to remember everyone's birthday and use a picture...mostly because I don't have pictures of all of you guys in a form that I can put on my computer. I really wanted to scan in a particular favorite picture of Ginger, but I didn't. This meant that I missed her birthday one month ago today. I feel like poop. I did email her in the morning, but without a picture, I felt bad about posting a birthday message.

Weird? Why, yes.

Anyway, without further ado, I give you Ginger.

You can tell it's Ginger because she is cute and has hair and eyes. Also, it is labeled Ginger. See, I still can't scan the pictures in color - so this is all I could do. Knowing that the 9th was this weekend, I drew it and scanned it in at work so I could show you the beautiful rendition of her.

Ginger and I went to high school together - but she and our other friends actually were a year ahead of me. However, since getting on myspace and blogspot, we've been able to reconnect in an honest way...and I've gotten to know her all over again. She is such a thoughtful person - and she posts about things that I absolutely love, like "Night" by Eli Wiesel and ideas and complaints about the way our world is. She is a high school english teacher and what I can say is that if she would've been my teacher, I would've found English MUCH more exciting. Wait. That sounds like I'm hitting on her. What I mean to say is that I believe that she would TEACH and also be there - even for the social misfits like me.

She just had a baby, Jack, this summer and before that I went to her baby shower and got to meet her husband, Rich. I remember drinking at the shower and also making inappropriate comments about nipples. Definitely one of my finer moments.

Ginger is a fantastic person - warm, inviting, thoughtful, and beautiful - inside and out. She is someone I'm looking forward to getting to know better...even if when she's talking about literary geniuses and all I can quote is Dr. Suess. Seriously though, Ginger is one of those people that when you meet, you feel welcomed and accepted.

Basically, I want to be Ginger when I grow up.

P.S. Today happens to be Rich's birthday. Don't worry - I'll wish him happy birthday in a month...

Video/song posts

Last night I posted about the song "Let It Be" from "Across the Universe."

This morning, I added the song since it seems that many people wanted to hear it. The clip I chose has pretty much no visual stimulation...and I picked it for that very reason. I think it's a great way to hear the song and interpret it how you want.

However, if you want to see the clip from the movie, here you go.

Background: the white girl was dating a guy that went to the war.

Enjoy!

Letting it be

I love musicals - really. And my iPod is loaded with the songs from them. This makes me an extremely annoying person to take road trips with. Consider this your warning.

A couple of months ago I saw the movie/musical "Across the Universe" at the urging of a friend. I really wanted to see it anyway, so it didn't take much urging for me to run out and rent it. I love Beatles songs AND I'm a sucker for guys with accents. My review: it was awesome in the beginning, then got weird, and then was good again.

One of the songs that was featured was "Let It Be." I already have love for this song as I remember the Sesame Street version of it (being "Letter B" sung by actual Muppet beetles). :)

The version sung in this movie was so profound and moving that I found myself crying with emotion. First, the boy's voice is so overwhelmingly pure that it's just a treat to listen to. And then it turns all gospel-ish where a woman is singing...and in that part you hear her pleading to have the things that she's praying for to come to fruition. And all of the sudden her voice is breaking - singing over and over to simply let it be. You can hear the struggle in her voice - the desperate begging.

And that's where I start to lose it...focusing on the repetitive phrase of "let it be" along with the sound of passion, the strength in her voice, as well as the strain of dealing with things that she simply can't understand or deal with. I start to pull that simple phrase inward - dwelling on those words.

Because letting something be is not and has never been my strength. Having a laid back approach to things and accepting the way stuff is does not come naturally to me. Simply letting something that is happening to just BE without trying to twist, turn, or pull it in a different direction...well, that's almost unheard of in my life.

It's through listening to this song that I remember that life doesn't have to be filled with struggles - it's okay to just BE. It's okay to just take a break and breathe.

It's also a good reminder that if it seems to be too much of a struggle to change something, perhaps it doesn't NEED changing. Perhaps I need to pay attention to things that shouldn't be changed, shouldn't be messed with. Perhaps the growth is not in the struggle of taking something from what it was into something it was never meant to be - but rather in me accepting that person, situation, event, or even action.

It reminds me of the original version of the Serenity Prayer, which is my favorite version and in my humble opinion much more profound than the widely accepted version:

God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
courage to change the things which should be changed,
and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

I love that...why don't I focus on changing the things that SHOULD be changed - versus the more popular version of changing things that I CAN change. Just because I can change them, doesn't mean I should. Let me ask for grace to accept with calmness the stuff that I simply can't change.

Help me learn to let it be - if only for a little while.

Tsk Tsk...

There is a ticking - nay, more like a tsk-ing coming from my TV as I am watching the Broncos game. It isn't due to my TV, because it doesn't do it when I switch to other channels.

And seriously, nothing is stopping it. It's EXACTLY like the background noise to The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights" (which you also may know as the UPS commercial song).

And it is driving me nuts. I was so very close to going nuts ANYWAY...I really am afraid that this may push me over the edge.

What's that? Turn off the TV?

Tsk...tsk...you should know me better by now.

Please order one "Pope Bubble" size extra large

So I have to admit that I have a fear. It's one that I have had since August and I can't seem to shake it.

I am afraid that someone will shoot and kill our President Elect.

When I saw him on TV in August at the DNC speech in my hometown all I could think of was "What are you doing standing way out there? Don't you know that you have daughters to love? What will they do if you die?" And then when the podium sunk into the stage and he walked out with his family and Biden? Oh my gosh - I almost peed because I was so nervous. It didn't help that I had delayed my watching of the speech by about 10 minutes. I started watching it late (one of the many reasons I love Tivo) and when I heard the cannons go off (I live relatively close to Mile High Stadium) I thought he might have been shot. But I didn't want to fast forward through his speech...so I continued watching it with a pit in my stomach and an ear out for sirens.

When I saw his speech last night, I was also afraid. Doesn't he know that anyone could've come into that park with a gun?

I have never had this fear before. There are people in this world that I would gladly take a bullet for, but I've found myself wanting to protect Obama. I have never been so concerned with the safety of someone I do not know. The Pope has a Popemobile, right? Can't we incase Obama in a Pope Bubble of some sort? Something to protect him in any given situation? Can I donate money to help fund a closet full of bulletproof vests?

I'm concerned he'll get shot or blown up. I think it's less about the hatred from people who cannot stand to see a black man in power. I think it's more due to several world changing leaders, especially those who spoke about peace, love, responsibility, and change getting shot down. JFK, Bobby Kennedy, MLK Jr., Lincoln, and of course Carl Switzer (the guy who played Alfalfa on The Little Rascals) are all great examples. Seriously though, I am concerned. Our parents remember the hope that was alive when JFK was President - and then he was shot. If this is the election of our generation, doesn't it seem realistic to be concerned about a tragedy of equal magnitude?

I wonder if it's because I never really felt like any other candidate would make things markedly better or worse than where we were during that time. And now that I've found a politician that sparks hope in me - hope for this country that I didn't even know could be tapped into, I'm scared of losing it.

I don't fool myself into thinking that he is perfect, that he will never make a mistake. He is not perfect and he will make mistakes. But I also hope that he will bring change and healing to this country and it's citizens who have been hurting for far too long.

So if any of Obama's secret service agents stumble across this post (hey, it happened with the bed people), please just keep him safe.

Alright, for you readers who are tired of politcal posts, I'm offiically backing off.

P.S. The irony of being so fearful about the end of someone who stands for hope is not lost on me.

Don't mind me - I'm just drunk on excitement

I am sitting here at 6:53 PM and am so excited about the election results tonight.

Regardless of who you voted for, I am so proud of you for voting! What a momentous election! I am so excited that our history will change in a MAJOR way! I have been more pumped up about this election than ever before. And I am so excited that I get to tell my kids (if I ever have any) that I was a involved. I put up signs in my windows, I held signs on the road in Denver, and I helped explain to people the facts about the candidate I chose.

I hope that other people felt the same way - especially those in my age bracket.

This is not the election of our generation just because our country is struggling, not just because there is a black man and a woman running, but because people have been able to tap into a unprecedented passion for their candidate. I pray that whomever gets the presidency will thoughtfully and prayerfully make the decisions that it will take to heal this country. But the person that I can do the best job is Obama.

I can't watch his speeches and some commercials without getting chills. In fact, I sat watching his DNC acceptance speech and was crying because I was so moved by his message. I am hoping that he will do what he promised. When I voted, I chose hope over fear. And as I sit here sipping my Bud Light Lime, I realize that I am so excited to see who will be our next Commander in Chief. Even more excited than what I was when I found out that New Kids on The Block were going to start touring again.

Post-Halloween Creep Out

Um...so I know I've been blogging a bit about a thing that I purchased. You know, the thing that I have dreams on. You may remember the brand name of the thing - it had a # in the title. SHHH!!! Don't say the name out loud - they might find me AGAIN.

Apparently, that company does blog searches and decided to comment on that post! WHAT THE HELL??

Don't believe me? Look here. And then come over here and give me a hug and tell me that things are not as creepy as they're seeming right now. Because it's not like when I bought the thing I was all "Hey, I don't have a significant other - oh and also, I have a blog. Here is the address. Please follow up with me about my satisfaction and tell me your number ON THE BLOG." Whatever Jeff at 55...if that IS your real number at which you sleep.

It feels like some salesperson followed me home and then invited himself in my house, ask to use the bathroom only to take a big dump in it. :(

Nincompoop

I love Sundays. I really love watching the football games live - but since I'm not rich and didn't turn in my name for season tickets 20 years ago, I have to settle for watching the Broncos game on TV.

One of the things I love is that every time the team that is playing us doesn't catch the ball, the whole stadium yells "INCOMPLETE!!" It's more like "IN-COME-PLEAT!" because they draw it out. The sound guy plays a taunting "wah wah wahhh" sound afterwards. It's a great way to heckle people I don't know. And you know me and heckling - I love it.

The first year I moved to Denver, I went to a great game with my friend Jim. So there was a woman that sat near us and about halfway through the second quarter, she turned to me and asked what was being chanted after a particular play where the ball was overthrown. I told her and she shyly said that she thought they were saying "Nincompoop." :)

So when I have been at live games since, I always shout "NIN-COME-POOP!!" because that is WAY funnier. It is also greater in heckle points. And won't you all feel stupid if in heaven God really wasn't counting all the great things you did, but rather your balance of heckle points? Who would be the nincompoop then?