Don't you know how to get loose by now?

Oh My GOSH!

I just saw this video on this site - so I fully admit to stealing this. Is that bad to do, even if I'm giving her credit? There should be list of do's and don'ts when you get your blogspot sign-in info.

Anyway, I watched this and laughed so hard.

Like Stephanie says, I can totally picture that lady from SNL doing the main person. I mean, what is up with her SHOUTING the lyrics. And shouting how we should get loose. At one point, she is actually moving so fast that the other people appear to be standing still!

"Yes, sir!"

Creepy! :)

Oh, and in case you didn't notice - they don't lift either foot. EVER.

DDR

So yesterday, I received an email update from a free dating site that I have not been on in almost 6 months. I went to the site to read it and because of that, the site showed that I was "active." Now I've started receiving emails. FROM FREAKS.

Yikes. That's kind of very harsh to say, but also a little true.

For example, I just read an email that said "You have such pretty red hair" as the subject line. The total message in the body of the email is "Totally awesome." Alright. First, I definitely prefer this over "you have a common face" so I'll take the compliment. BUT what would be the proper response to that? "Yeah. Thanks. I grew it myself"?

So here's the thing, his profile picture is of him (he happens to be 40) playing Dance Dance Revolution. You know, the things KIDS hop on in the mall to hits from the 80s. Now, please don't get me wrong, I played that game about 5 years ago when I was tipsy at a friends house...and I'll be honest, it was fun. But um...I don't think that I'm going to be putting it on a profile picture as way to woo the opposite sex. And no, he was not doing it to be funny. Like he was completely serious. He even called it DDR in the caption.

Am I just being bitchy? Yeah...okay, maybe I am. Because I would love for the DDR guy to find a DDR girl. It's just that that's not me - I'm never going to turn to my boyfriend on the couch and say, "You know what? I'm just not spending enough time at the mall looking like a creepy child molester. Why don't we go and hang out with those teenage kids that aren't even liked by their parents. Then we can get an Orange Julius and watch the people hop on WHATEVER they hop on at Hot Dog on A Stick. All I know is that lemonade comes out of whatever they hop on. Mmmm hopped on lemonade!" *

(sigh)

The guys at work say that I'm too picky. And I don't think so. Or at least not overly so. I don't think there's anything wrong with having standards for whomever you choose to date. Because eventually, I think most of us are wanting to the dating to lead to marriage (or at least a committed relationship). And I really want to make sure that I never go through a divorce or that horrible nagging feeling like I settled. I know people like that. And nothing about that sounds like fun.

The point is, I shouldn't HAVE to settle. At least not on the big things that I have as a priority. Those things clearly being: his ability to sing all the words to "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies, his quickness in solving a Rubick's Cube, his belief that the Dallas Cowboys are the worst team ever, his ability to quote "The Princess Bride" in multiple situations, and of course, his skill at macrame.

I'm KIDDING again.

Well, except for the part about quoting "The Princess Bride."

*I don't know why they hop or what they hop on. Do you? But what I do know is that Hot Dog on A Stick has the best frickin' lemonade ever.

insert groaning sound here

My groaning is not because I'm trying to be spooky for Halloween.


No, it's because I bought something off an infomercial that has officially kicked my ass. I bought "The Firm" toning set. Basically, it was cheaper than paying for a personal trainer, something that I could do to keep my work-outs fresh and effective, and a way to tone versus just losing weight (which typically results in loss of muscle). Basically, when I'm done losing weight, I don't want to look like a shar-pei. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

So I got the DVDs on Monday night and I decided to put it in yesterday after getting home from work. The instructor kept saying "if you're new, don't use any weights" but I was all "DUDE! Does she know who I am? I do this every Thursday at the gym and I'm sure I can do this stupid little DVD. In fact, not only will I use weights, but I'll use more than what they send with the kit. I'll use 5 pound weights for each arm. That'll show them."

60 minutes and what felt like one million squats and tricep curls (are they called curls when you're working on your triceps? No? Well, then I meant to write whatever the heck they're actually called) later when the DVD ended and I was sore, I thought to myself that I might not have done the smarter thing. And typically when I think that, it ends up being true.

So today? I'm groaning every time I shift positions. Which means tomorrow I'll be lucky if I can walk.

List to top all lists!!!

Reasons why the last 24 hours have been fantastic:

1. I have officially lost more than 10% of my weight in July. Losing 10% of your body weight has huge benefits. To celebrate, I splurged and bought myself a watch. I love it - and it reminds me that my health is something that I need to make time for. I know, it's cheesy, but it works. :)

Holy cow, that is a BIG picture. Sorry folks. :)

2. My fantasy football team, the Redheaded Stepchildren, WON this week. I was 1-6 and although my win doesn't make tons of difference in the league, I also got top points. Which means that I get our weekly pot - which equates to about $8. That is quite possibly more cash I've had in my wallet in about 7 years.

3. I woke up this morning pain-free. Zero pain. Zero. As in the number of people I've kissed since this year's Cinco de Mayo. I didn't even keep a flask by my bed! :) I didn't do the click o' the heels thing, but other than that, I'm feeling fantastic.

4. The "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" special is on tonight. I LOVE that special. It makes me feel young again and that all is right with the world. We use IM at work and I have changed my picture to be a scene from the movie. Yes. I am a dork.

YAY for Tuesdays! :)

Modular

It's been one week since I had my new bed delivered.

I was hoping that all my pain would disappear, but it turns out that the cause of my pain is me. Story. Of. My. Life. I still have the pain when I sleep even with this super fancy schmancy bed. So I've started to keep a sleep journal (just as exciting as it sounds - which is to say that it's not exciting at all) to try to narrow down for my doctors why I have such intense pain when I am sleeping.

Most days I'm just sore, but Thursday night I was in a lot of pain. So there's that.

I haven't decided if I want to return my bed to Sleep Number or if I want to keep it - I'm trying to be practical about it, but am really not donating lots of time to it. I guess I'm still hoping that one of these mornings I'll wake up and be able to jump out of bed, click my heels like the Irish person I am, and then go about my merry way, being free of pain. Hmmm...maybe I should keep a flask by my bed.

Anyway, a week ago, when the new bed was being delivered, I went home to meet the delivery guy. He was a nice guy and was pretty chatty as he was setting up the bed. The bed comes in a ton of different boxes - it's built right before your eyes.

Me: Wow. I guess I'm surprised with how modular it is!

Him: Ha! It's funny that you would say that. Modular. The only people that have used that term are dorky engineers.

Me: *cough* *cough* Um...that's me.

Him: What?

Me: I am a dorky engineer.

Him: Oh. Really? Hmm...weird. Modular.

Where is a cameraman when you need one?

Last night I had a thrilling night. I watched "The Happening" AND "Baby Mama." And I stayed awake through both movies. If you've ever been around me while a movie was on, you know that me staying awake through an entire movie (let alone two) is pretty darn amazing. Typically, I'm asleep by the time the opening credits get done rolling.

Alright, so my night wasn't as thrilling as a single 31 year old's should be, but I was happy.

Tonight I decided to turn over a new leaf and return the movies to Blockbuster on time. Hey, what can I say? I am Oprah-esque. I make the world a better place. So I took the pooch up with me - it's not far away (maybe a mile) and besides, Chassis loves to go for walks. There we were, walking at a brisk pace when I decided that I'd rather run.

(short aside: When I lived in Oklahoma, I used to run each night on the track by my apartment. I got to where I was running for an hour or so and I loved it. Now, I'm quite a bit heavier than I was then, and I guess I stopped thinking that I was in any condition to run. I mean, I've been "running" 4-5 miles at the gym...but it's been on an elliptical machine. Which is really not running at all. It's like the "I can't believe it's not butter" of running. It's close - but not the same. So running today without being out of breath was something that I had not even realized I missed.)

So I ran (I ran so far away...) to Blockbuster and back...with my HUGE dog literally loping right beside me. Usually we get cars to stop and/or stare - because Chassis is so big (thus her ability to lope like a horse). But today if anyone was looking, I think it was because we would've made a pretty cool picture.

You know, I've always admired those little tiny girls, running with their golden retrievers right beside them. Somehow they look like they'd get done running, pile in to their Land Rover, and go shopping at Pottery Barn. And even though I know that I don't quite make the same picture (bigger redhead with a huge blue dog piling into a MINI), I think it was just as cool.

Why this morning rocked

Today I stepped on the scale in my bathroom, as I do most mornings.

The first two numbers of my weight are numbers I haven't seen on the scale for quite some time...and I'm pretty proud of the hard work and dedication that brought me to those numbers.

Don't get me wrong...I'm looking forward to leaving those first two numbers behind...and never seeing them again. But for now, it's a great place to be.

Yay me.

You've been warned...

Okay, that graphic should technically say that it's ALMOST NaBloPoMo. Don't know what that means? Yeah - I didn't either until this time last year.

NaBloPoMo is a weird-ass abbreviation for National Blog Posting Month. The idea is to post 30 blogs in 30 days - which is tough for just about anyone for the month of November...and I have no clue how I'm going to do it with the traveling that I'm going to be doing. I suspect the plan will be fueled by Bud Light. But I'm up for the challenge.

So get ready.

Also...if you feel like giving me subjects for posts so that I don't have to think of 30 posts of complete crap stuff I woudl normally post about, that'd be just peachy. I'll do my best to accomodate.

And that's code for "I have no more shame left."

A thousand points of pain

Yesterday I went to my mailbox only to find that the inventors of the book and DVD "The Secret" sent me an exclusive offer.

If you know anything about "The Secret," you know that the idea is that you can manifest things to happen. Like if you concentrate and believe you can make things good or bad happen. It's kind of like the idea behind how Tinkerbell can come back to life if you clap hard enough. Now I personally think that there is something to the power of positive thought and the principles behind this idea.

However, I was tired. I had just spent time with the girls at my monthly dinner out. And no, that's not code for anything. So I decided that I'd just shred the thing - like what I do with all of my junk mail.

Only the packet was so thick, I knew that it would jam my shredder. So I started to open the envelope with my thumb and slide it along the top to open the thing. That's when I got about forty paper cuts which equals one thousand points of light pain.*

So, in going with "The Secret" philosophy, what the hell was that brought on by? I didn't meditate on the thought of pain. I don't think that the makers of "The Secret" bulk mail visualizing people opening their mail and being cut is a great marketing strategy - so it's unlikely that that is what brought it on.

I guess I just think it's strange that I was cut by complete chance (in my opinion) by a sheets of paper in a bulk mailing promoting the idea that NOTHING happens by chance. Everything, according to them, was manifested and brought on by something.

So just in case there is some evil person visualizing my demise, I want you to know that your message was received.

And I hate you.

* See? Not all of my posts have Democratic undertones. That reference was just for you Bush lovers. AND NO, THAT'S NOT CODE FOR ANYTHING.

Many the miles

One of the great things that happened yesterday is that I went to a concert last night with my friend, Denver Kelly (as opposed to Peoria Kelly because naming them this way is just easier for me). We saw Raining Jane (never heard of them before last night), Marc Broussard (he is fantastic!!), and Sara Bareilles. It was at the Paramount - which is a cool, intimate theatre.

Before the concert even started, I had three goals: to not cry if she sang "Gravity," to not throw my panties at Marc Broussard EVEN if he sang "Yes We Can," and to not get told by Kelly to quit my off-key singing. To quote Meatloaf, two out of three ain't bad.

The opening acts were really good - they sounded awesome and the great acoustics of the theatre really added to their performance. Marc Broussard's voice was gravely, soulful, and all around phenomenal. Unfortunately, the same was not true for Sara's set. Her band was SO loud (specifically the bassist and the kick drum) that I had a hard time hearing her when they played with her. It really took away from the songs - at times sounding so much like those guys that pull up next to you in traffic with the bass so loud that you can FEEL it. Normally, I listen to my music with the bass almost all the way down because it bothers me - like it does something to the equilibrium in my head or the balls in my ears. So this was my own particular type of hell. Songs I was dying to hear, but was struggling not to throw up on the lady in front of me. Not that she would've noticed. She was too busy texting on her iPhone (the contrast level on which was set to: brightest; AKA SURE TO ANNOY THOSE AROUND YOU).

Even that wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't paired with the lights show from hell. You know how when you go see a movie at the theatre in the middle of the day and when you get outside afterwards you're blinded by the sun? Okay, it was like that, but times one million. Because the light designer apparently decided that the audience might get more out of the act if we were not able to focus on anything. Just when your eyes started to recover, you were hit again with another bright spotlight peeking just past the guitar player's legs. I couldn't even see the colors after a while. Was that light pink? Blue? Green? Who knows - I'm not even sure if I was blinking.

Anyway, the combination of not being able to see OR hear left me slightly frustrated. When I got out of the concert, I really wanted to walk over to the bassist and punch him in the face. And then break his guitar. And then kidnap Sara and make her sing the concert all over again with just her and a piano that I would've also stolen. But really, that seemed like too much work - especially since I was still trying to nurse my burned retinas.

Shiny Happy People (Holding Hands)

I work in an office that has a warehouse attached. I know, it must be hard for you to imagine such glamour - and I would like to take this moment to tell you that you have every right to be as envious as you are.

At any rate, right now I can hear "Shiny Happy People" by REM. I bet I haven't heard that song in decades…and I used to love them. Namely because this guy in my city-wide confirmation class, Chris, loved them. And how else do you get close to a boy you like other than to listen to the songs he likes over and over hoping that he'll mention SOMETHING about the band and you can say something un-dorky to him about said band and then he'll realize he loves you and then you get married and have cute babies? He was oh-so cute. He even had that hairdo that Vanilla Ice had back then. That's how you could tell that he was COOL.

So the time came when our confirmation class had a lock-in at the church. If you're not familiar with what they are, the idea is that you have a big sleepover party in the church. I think they're supposed to lock you in, but to tell you the truth, I never tried. I was away from my stupid parents who didn't know ANYTHING and that's all that mattered. True, I missed my Swatch phone, but I figured one night without it wouldn't kill me.

We all ate pizza, ran around the church, probably daydreamed while our leader tried to teach us something about God, and then got to watch movies until we fell asleep. I watched the movies next to Chris - and I was so happy that I couldn’t sleep - even when everyone else in the room (except Chris and I) were asleep. I know we watched about five movies, and the only one I remember was "Arachnophobia." I remember it because Chris tried to scare me by pretending his hands were spiders. Of course, I'd squeal in fear but also delight and after a while, we were holding hands under the blanket we were sharing. And then I was felt up.

For those who are cringing right now with a look of absolute disgust on your face, and screaming out to your monitor with complete horror, I guess I apologize. I know, you weren't expecting for me to write a post about how I got felt up at church. And I swear, I tried to write that sentence about twelve different ways, but there really wasn't a way to write that without me sounding like I was submitting a story to a cheesy romance novel wannabe contest.

My point is, REM is still a great band that gets me thinking about simpler times.

And that perhaps you shouldn't send your kids to a lock-in at church. Or if they insist, maybe you should chaperone the thing is all I'm saying.

Oh, and Chris, call me.

P.S. I'm thinking of printing up this post and giving it to my parents for Christmas. What? It's a post about church. They'll be proud. :)

Why I peed my pants on the way to work today...

I got into my car this morning with cute hair, casually stylish clothes, and happy about the simple fact that it is Friday. I picked up the phone, called my friend, and began driving to work.

While on the highway (in the left lane with no shoulder to the left of me), travelling at somewhere between 73 and 78 miles per hour, I noticed significant movement in the back of my car. IN MY CAR. For a split second I thought "Did I stop at a gas station recently where someone could crawl into my car and then try to kill me?" I realized that that did not happen and besides, no semi was behind me flashing their brights trying to save me. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, please read this. I get that in an email at least once every 3 months.

So then I thought it was a bird but realized that maybe it was a baby bird because it was sort of small...and while I was still trying to figure out what exactly it was, a dark brown moth the size of a 15 pound burger FLEW up at me - trying to attack my face. I screamed like a little girl, dropped my cell phone in my lap, and frantically reached for the buttons to try to roll down the windows. After I did so and realized that the moth probably flew out the window, I chuckled to myself about how scared I was.

Relieved, I picked back up my phone and said, "Whew...sorry about that. I was looking in my rearview mirror and realized that a living thing was in my car. And OH MY GOSH! IT'S BACK! AHGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH!!!!" because the moth was now on my side of the car flying up and freaking out ALMOST as much as I was. Apparently it didn't want to get out into the 40 degree weather either.

We went through the unrolling of the windows another time until I finally decided to leave the driver's window rolled down for the rest of the way to work. I got inside our building and Lance (who's cube is right by the door) said "Wow. What happened to your hair this morning?" because my hair looked like that lady that asked John McCain the question about Obama being a terrorist and an Arab.

(sigh)

I gave him the finger.

Quirky me, part 2

So since no one has posted comments, emailed, called, or even hired a singing telegram regarding the below problem, I can only assume that I am the only person to experience this particular phenomenon.

Next you're going to tell me that you don't have issues with thinking about the words "yellow" or "white" and then saying the other one.

Sheesh.

H is for Hungry

I'm famished in the mornings...but am not hungry at all in the evening.

Does this happen to anyone else?

Realistically, I'm doing fine with the amount of calories I'm consuming - it's just that I'm eating 95% of them before 2 PM. I've tried upping the protein content in my meals thinking that that might be what my body is needing.

I'm eating 5 fruits and veggies a day, eating whole grains, and for the most part staying away from processed foods. But I still have a hard time being NOT hungry before 10 am.

Any suggestions? Has this happened to anyone else?

Steadfast

This past weekend, I helped my friend Kelly with her booth at a large craft show. Although to be honest, it was more like Kelly manned her booth and I went around buying other people's stuff.

One of the booths belonged to J.R. Botdorf who is an amazing photographer. His work is absolutely beautiful.

I'm struck again at how art - someone else's interpretation and vision - can move a complete stranger so much. I saw this picture and at once knew that I needed to have it.

There's something about the beauty of this big rock - standing strong amidst the turbulence of the water. The water? It's just doing what it's supposed to. And the rock? It's also doing what it's supposed to. Both are just being - one is not out to make the other's mission harder. They simply are just being what they were meant to be.

In my life, I've felt pressed to change - to be something that is more loved by my family, to be something as pretty as my friends, to be smarter than my peers, to be more successful than my co-workers, or even to be something nicer, calmer, quieter, thinner, or less passionate than what I am about any given thing. It's been within the last year and a half that I've started to realize that I'm fine just the way that I am. Someone who can be abrasive, loud, sarcastic, selfish, downright unlovable...yes. But also someone who can be giving, caring, thoughtful, considerate, and patient. All of those parts of me make up a pretty cool rock.

The thing is, I can choose. I can choose to look at and concentrate on the rushing of the water around the rock - almost feeling the pressure that the water is creating on the rock to move or to change.

Or I can concentrate on the beauty of the rock being exactly what it was meant to be despite whatever forces are around it.

The movement in me the last year and a half has helped me to stop looking to everything else for contentment, for approval, and for satisfaction. It's been for me to realize the power that I have, to realize that I'm not meant to be like anything else other than me... or possibly a better version of me.

The name of the picture? Steadfast.

Tree trunks for legs

Today (for the first time) someone who didn't know that I am trying to lose weight commented on my weight loss. She is the wife of a person who works with us and, in general, someone I can't stand because she's rude. Not as rude as the lady from the Cheesecake Factory outing, but close.

Today she said to our assistant receptionist (BTW, why do we NEED two? There are only 20 people working at our facility!), "Is Anne losing weight?" And our receptionist who knew that I was getting healthier said that I was.

So Roberta (yes, that IS her name) said, "Wow. I noticed because your butt looks a lot smaller." I smiled and answered her questions about how much weight (about 25 pounds) and how long I've been at it (since mid July) and that's when she said, "Yeah, I noticed because you carry all of your weight in your legs. Well, and your butt. Anyway, now you're starting to look a little more proportional."

First, carrying my weight only in my lges and butt can't biologically be true...unless your a head and torso-less person. Secondly, I've always told myself that I'm a fairly proportional person. I may be bigger, but I'm bigger everywhere. I'm top heavy and bottom heavy...well, just plain old heavy, but I guess I always figured that it all balanced out. I've seen people that have been significantly bottom heavy and never really envisioned myself looking a bunch like them, NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. It just was a little weird to think that the body type that I think I have may not be what it actually is.

But, in an effort to take the good and leave the bad, I just smiled and realized that I was happy that my effort to be healthier is having other positive effects, like looking healthier. No matter what my shape is, it's getting smaller. I took her compliment, backhanded though it may be, and went on with my day, motivated that people are starting to notice.

I think that's called progress.

Believe it or not, it's just me...

I know, I haven't written in almost a week. What is wrong with me? Where are my priorities? Sheesh.

Here's the deal, I've had a lot going on this week and have had it combined with the least sleep I've ever had in my life. And here's where I assure the moms that read my blog that I'm not comparing my lack of sleep to your lack of sleep with newborns because OH MY GOSH that is just insane how you moms do it. Seriously, I thought the childbirth part of it was God's punishment to Eve and all the rest of us...so what is with this bullshit about not sleeping for months afterwards?

I thought the lack of sleep thing was fixed when I adjusted the slats of my bed. Turns out that that happened to not have a lasting effect. And darn it if I was going to take back my solution since I compared myself to a princess. Do you know how much I still want to be a princess? I'm not going to give that up, are you crazy?

So, I've been walking around like a zombie from "Shaun of the Dead" for the past week. BTW, that movie is so funny that if you haven't seen it, you probably should never admit it to me - because I'll likely stop whatever you're doing, drag you to Blockbuster, rent the movie, and then drag you back home with me to watch it. Wait, I own it. Whatever. You get what I'm saying.

So I went to go mattress shopping and had narrowed it down to a Sleep Number or a Tempurpedic mattress. Why? Because marketing works on me. And after going to multiple stores (first Sleep Number store had a sales person/manager who I SWEAR was snorting cocaine in the back room and I'm not even kidding), I finally decided on getting a Sleep Number bed. And I'm going to feel happy about my purchase and not think on how I would've bought a sleeping bag for the same amount of money if they would've just let me sleep there for 15 minutes.

But, getting back to the title of the post, I was surprised at how all of the salespeople that I met kept asking if it was just me. Umm...yes. I'm single. And I still want a queen size bed because I'm not in college any more.

One of them asked me if I shared a bed with someone and all I could think of saying was "I don't have a significant other." WHY DID I SAY THAT? I don't even have an INsignificant other. So the whole pitch, she was very careful to mention "partner" instead of "husband." And I couldn't figure out how to work in the whole "I'm not gay, I'm just stupid when it comes to defining things while laying down and trying not to fall asleep during your demo" speech in.

But hey, I have a new bed...

I see bowl cuts for my kids in the future

Today I tried to do something that I KNOW I can't do successfully. I attempted to cut my own hair (really, just my bangs).

While I'm not saying that it's the worst cut I've ever received (see pretty much all of my pictures from when I was a kid where my mom attempted to cut a straight line), it's also not the best. I guess I figured it wouldn't be too hard since I already had a guide line to follow. Turns out not so much.

I now recognize that cutting hair, even with a guide line, is very difficult. I mean, I've watched "Shear Genius"* and I've had some HORRIBLE hairdressers in my lifetime so you'd think that this wouldn't be news to me. I would love to save the money to cut my kids** hair, but it really would have to be with a bowl on their head...and even then I can't promise that it wouldn't look like their mom has serious crack-whore like problems.

My experiences today confirmed that although I AM skilled at Spider Solitaire, I am not skilled at doing anything with scissors.

Except for possibly running with them.

*by the way, my ex looks quite a bit like Charlie from this past season's "Shear Genius" - except for my ex was straight and would never wear a skinny jean.

** no - you didn't miss anything. I don't have any kids, but it's always good to plan ahead, right?

Happy birthday, Kelly! :)

So today is my friend, Kelly's birthday. I met Kelly only about a year ago through friends here in Denver and I am SO glad that I did! She and her husband, Matt have been such welcoming people.

Kelly is one of those people that you love to be around BUT they make you feel lazy by comparison. I think at last count she had one full time job, one part time job, and 485 separate businesses. Right. You WANT to hate her, but you can't. Instead you're just inspired. Even that would be enough, but she's funny, friendly, smart, and supportive. Truly, a great person.

Even though Kelly is one of my newest friends, I hope and believe that we'll be friends for a long time to come.

So, happy birthday Kelly! :) :)


Kelly is the one in the middle - with the blonde hair and dimples. :)

I think they call that being a poor sport

Remember this post?

Well, since I lost the bet, I came through. I wanted to make something yummy for those in the office but I still wanted to mock Lance. Because I'm a sad, small person. :)

So here is the final result.

I wanted to make sure that the people knew that I spelled something, but I felt a little weird spelling out "sucks" for everyone at my office to read.

So, if you follow the arrows, you'll be able to read the second word. The third and fourth words (BECAUSE GOOD GRIEF - "A LOT" IS TWO SEPERATE WORDS!) will follow in the same zig zag pattern. I put the smiley on there mainly because "I'm just saying" wouldn't fit. Besides, everything is better with vodka smileys.

And in case you're wondering, there are toothpicks in some of the cupcakes so that I could cover the dish with tinfoil and my hard work of the design wouldn't get mucked up.

At least I've got that going for me...

Remember that song by Matthew Wilder? "Ain't nothin' gonna' break my stride?"

Well...last night I DID have the strangest dream...but I didn't sail away to China to find ya' even though you had to get your laundry clean.

Side note: I loved that song as a kid. It was about laundry or so I thought. Not that I loved laundry or anything, but it was something that I could at least wrap my small mind around. Not like those songs about Sexual Healing or songs asking if I really wanted to hurt them and make them cry.

And...we're back!

So anyway, I had a weird dream last night. I was back at a high school reunion and my first task upon arriving was to participate as catcher in a softball game. I've never been to a reunion (I skipped my 10 year) so I can only assume that this is what goes on. Shortly thereafter, I made a game winning catch to have someone out and people cheered from the stands. It was nice to get some recognition for all the hard work I put into the game.

We were all in the dugout wiping sweat from our brows and I noticed some people who I genuinely missed. We started talking about their lives as a way to catch up - and they passed over pictures of their kids. I was so happy for them, that I literally started crying in my dream. I just was glad that kids had a good home - even if some of them looked like mutant turtle children. And I think I can pause so that we can all reflect on how mutant turtle children need good homes too.

So we went to a classroom where people were showing us on powerpoint slides what was new with them. One lady got up to talk about how she was on myspace and how wonderful that was. It got to me and I told the story about my uneventful life in a funny way. And people laughed and said that they missed me and they didn't know that I could tell stories like that. And I was all, If you like that, I've got loads of stupid stories on my blog. Everyone gasped and the teacher (uhh...because when you come back for class reunions apparently you should also still have a teacher to tell you what to do) asked all of us to write down my blog address. And they did.

And then I lived happily ever after woke up.

Now I recognize that that was silly, but it was so much better than all the you're-trying-to-take-a-test-that-you've-never-studied-for-and-oh-yeah-you're-naked-too dreams that I have from time to time.

I may not have an exciting life. I may not be where I thought I'd be at this age. But at least I'm comfortable being me...something that I certainly wasn't in high school (was anyone?).

Besides, the teacher recommended MY bog.

One can only take so much...

Does anyone else find the constant "you betcha," "doin'," "findin'," "gonna'," squints, crinkle faces, and winks annoying from tonight's debate incredibly annoying?

Seriously, I know that Palin has been mocked about being charming and coy when pressed for details...but tonight? I found it almost demeaning.

I have respect for anyone who votes knowingly about whichever candidate that they endorse and believe in. And I know that people disagree with me on my candidate choice. We may have fundamental differences between what we believe - and I can respect any person's belief. Even if it differs from mine. But blindly voting for someone who happens to have ovaries cannot be the solution.

Tonight, the choice for me was clear. Should their running mate die, one of these people will run our country. We must make that matter.

I encourage you to read up on the facts of both candidates and what they stand for. I encourage you to read the transcripts of tonight's debate and read who really answered the questions that were asked and who did not.

I cannot stand some of the things that came out of her mouth. She knows how to deliver a speech, you betcha' - but does she even know what she's saying? Is she aware that the reason why she has failed in all of her interviews by the "mainstream media" is because their questions didn't come from the scripts that she had prepared? I love how she closed with "I love answering these questions" - I wanted to scream, "WHAT QUESTIONS HAVE YOU ANSWERED?" You sidestepped them, you didn't answer directly to the pointed questions that were asked.

UGH!

Church just got a WHOLE lot more exciting!

The other day (I think it's called Sunday), I went to church.

During the children's sermon, they had the typical kids coming down the aisles to gather around the speaker, who typically sits down on the steps to the alter. So all the kids sit down on the steps along sider her - very nice indeed! The speaker that day was a woman, who actually had a great lesson about how no matter how you try, things aren't fair and even. She demonstrated this by getting a scale out and putting different size rocks on the scales (she would alternate between the sides, putting rocks on whichever side was less) continuously asking, "Are they even now?"

Here's the thing. This lady was wearing a trendy shirt. But when she bent over to get the rocks and put them on the sides of the scale, you could CLEARLY see her boobs dangling via her gaping neckline - like MANY inches of dangling boobage. Like I was actually shocked because when she'd bend over, you didn't see any trace of a bra (no nipples, but definitely no bra either - maybe it was a shelf bra?). The men on either side of me straightened up in the pew everytime she bent over.

Her asking if "they" were even wasn't exactly helping.