Friday, July 30, 2010

Coming Soon: College Football

This weekend we make the transition from July to August. Kids are getting ready to go back to school. Parents are preparing to get their sanity back. Stores are foaming at the mouth for the "back to school" shopping spree.

In my house? We are waiting on the much anticipated return of college football. It is only a month away now. And the waiting. Oh, the waiting.

Waiting. It doesn't really do our excitement justice. We are not waiting. We are chomping at the bit. We are in a state of such suspense that if some tragedy were to take place (Heaven forbid) and it were to cause the start of the season to be delayed we might actually fall ill and die.

Football isn't a game in our house. It is a part of life. An important part of life.

It is competition and camaraderie. It's agony and joy. It's politician-esque coaches and massive crowds of spectators. It's overpriced stadium food and tailgating parties. It's touchdowns and tackles. It's victory and defeat. It is nothing short of absolutely fantastic.

If you don't love it, I can't explain it to you. If you don't have a specific team you pull for, you will never know the feeling of utter exuberance, or complete heartbreak, that can occur in the last few seconds of a game. For those who are die hard fans of their alma maters? The love of their team courses through their very veins.

That is what I am anticipating. The sea of humanity, representing people of all different ethnic groups, backgrounds, and political parties joined together in support of their favorite team. It is still not quite the utopia you might think. Some people will always find a way to be world class buttheads. But the football, it makes up for it. The hits, the passes, the trick plays. Fabulous.

September 2nd will be magic. September 4th will be food for the soul (for that is the day that Miss State will play their first game). GO STATE!

What can I say? Hope springs eternal.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

False Advertising

So I recently bought a toy for my dog. The package said it was "indestructible".

The package lied.

Our precious darling, who apparently has steak knives for teeth, destroyed that thing like it was the last steak at a cook out.

We took the toy away from him, and trashed it, but the damage was done. At 4 AM I awoke to the sounds of my very sick puppy whimpering and whining.

Very sick is a euphemism. He was doing a Linda Blair impression. Only better than she did. The poor thing.

After we hosed everything down, and tossed out all of his old crate blankets, we waited for the vet's office to open. Our very capable vet took very good care of our newest family member. And we are very happy to report that, other than being very tired after the whole ordeal, he is not really any worse for the wear. And we will not being buying anymore of those toys.

Indestructible my foot. That toy didn't stand a chance. It went down like it was a prize fighter throwing the match. Shameful.

I am NEVER buying that brand of toy again. EVER.

Please join me in my outrage.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I Miss That Smell

I know that sounds crazy, but hear me out.

Yesterday on the way home from work, a older gentleman got on the elevator with me. He smelled just like my grandfather used to smell. I can't even really describe it, but it's distinctive.

I didn't speak to this man, because I don't know him and he was already having a conversation with someone who got on the elevator with him and I didn't want to be rude.

I also didn't lean over and sniff him. Boundaries.

But he smelled just like my grandfather. My grandfather died not quite two years ago, but he was gone long before that. But he smelled a certain way, back he was still acting like himself. And I haven't smelled that particular smell in a really long time.

I smiled when I got off the elevator.

Is that weird?

Eh, you know what? I don't care if it is weird. He smelled like my grandfather and it made me smile.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

You Know Me Too Well

Before I get started, I would like to point out that the irony of this post is not lost on me. I am well aware. I have admitted before that I am kind of a hypocrite. Deal with it.

I think we know too much about each other these days. With Twitter updates, Facebook status updates, Facebook profiles in and of themselves, MySpace, etc, I know far more about people than I ever cared to know. And I don't even have a Twitter or MySpace account (I know, I am probably the last Twitter hold out on the planet, but I am staying strong!).

I believe there are some things that are better kept private. For instance, I believe the only reason for any person to know what kind of toilet paper the person down the street uses, is if you live in a town so small that everyone knows what kind they buy, because you all shop at the same grocery store. You shouldn't know simply by virtue of a Twitter update saying he just bought more Charmin on the way home. Ew.

Recently, I have seen people actually use a Facebook updated to discuss their water breaking and how far apart their contractions were. Just for the record that is OFFICIALLY too much information. Over Share.

Also, there are some people you were probably meant to lose touch with. The kid who wrote "Keep In Touch!" in your yearbook in the sixth grade, didn't mean for the next 20 years. Really.

And I really don't care that you are trying to decide between ice cream and cake for dessert. I don't.

My point is that some things weren't meant to be shared. Like every last second of your life. You need to vent? Sure, go ahead. You want to let people know that something amazing just happened? Right on. You want to get advice from people you haven't spoken to in person in over a decade? Um, okay. You want to tell everyone you have ever met that you regret eating Taco Bell for dinner? Draw the line. I'm just saying.

And that's my soap box.

Monday, July 26, 2010


I do not have one thing, in particular, to write about today. Instead, I will give you all of the little tidbits that are swimming around in my head. Buckle up. This could be a bumpy ride.

1. If you are less than a certain size (read: if you could be, or be mistaken for, a runway model) then you should be held down and force fed a cheeseburger. Eating a grape and complaining about the calories therein is no way to live your life. I have a list of these people already. I will eventually share it with you. Until then, do you have anyone you would like to add to the list?

2. I had a rough day. It's Monday, though, so I shouldn't have been surprised.

3. I think being an adult is overrated.

4. I was a total geek in school. I am okay with that. I realize now that it was about the fun I was having, not about what anyone thought about it. I am far less embarrassed about a lot of those things now.

5. I think that if you don't embrace your inner child and let it out once it a while, it could have harmful effects on your long term mental health.

6. I miss being able to watch animated films (read: Disney movies) without having to explain my theory about embracing your inner child.

7. Some people are jerks. They will be jerks no matter what you do. Don't worry about them. They will have plenty of jumbotron moments to worry about later. If that thought makes you smile and maybe even laugh maniacally, I'm with you, and we will both see this moment on the big jumbotron in Heaven someday.

8. Have you ever had something a significant other gave you that was a mundane object that you obsessed over in the beginning of your relationship (a jacket, a t-shirt, and not something they bought for you, something that was theirs)? Do you still smile every time you see or think about that object? Yeah, good times.

9. There is nothing like the beginning of a relationship when everything is butterflies, huge news, and a very big deal.

10. There is also nothing like the part of the relationship when silence is comfortable and you are not embarrassed for your special someone to see you with no make-up on. That's love, people.

11. My dog likes to roll onto his back and chew his toys upside down. It's weird, but very, very cute. It makes me giggle.

12. I don't really have anything else to add, but I don't like odd numbers. Don't judge me.

That is all.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Dear Weekend

I thought you would never get here.

I love you so much. Really. You bring me great joy.

You are the complete opposite of your nemesis named Monday. You bring joy and relaxation.

I love everything for which you stand. Late nights of fun and laughter. Late mornings of sleepy sunlight drenching the room before I crawl out of my comfortable cocoon of bed sheets. More time to spend with my husband and play with my dog. More time to get things done at my own pace around the house so that I get things accomplished, but am not overly exhausted afterwards. Time to read, or watch movies. Time to spend with friends.

Or time to blog and work on the book I am writing. Or time to not blog or work on anything (only time will tell).

The mere thought of you helps get me through the rest of the week. Your very existence is proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy (this is a paraphrase of a Benjamin Franklin quote, and also something I say about a lot of things - which is to say, I have a lot of proof that God loves me and wants to be happy. This is good to know some days.).

The rest of the week should strive to be like you, weekend.

On a random side note, watching Alton Brown make fried chicken is kind of ruining fried chicken for me.

That is all.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Fight Like a Girl

"Hold your head high,
Don't ever let 'em define the light in your eyes.
Love yourself, give 'em hell.
You can take on this world,
Just stand and be strong, and
Fight like a girl."
- Bomshel

Unlike Lady Justice, whose statue is blind, Sir Payroll has no statue, and has 20/20 vision. This is not to be celebrated. Did you know that women STILL don't make, dollar for dollar, what a man in the same position makes?

Seriously? This is 2010.

I, of all people, am certainly aware that this world is not a perfect place. Believe on that one. But this is just ridiculous. I mean, I'm not the up in arms style feminist, but I do advocate equality.

I mean, as a woman it is the hardest thing in the world to hear a man say something subtle and derogatory in a situation when you can't back hand them, or even show a tiny bit of the rage that boils inside you. Really, that's infuriating.

And where does that guy get off treating women like they are less important? Are you kidding me with this? How is it that some woman at some point in this guy's life hasn't punched him in the face? And the worst part? He has no idea that he is doing anything wrong. And that makes me want to vomit. On him.

I know that women aren't the only minority that have to put up with this. This is the just the one that I need to vent about right now.

Men who treat women as second class citizens should be kicked in the nads. I stand by that statement. It may be violent, and I know that violence is never the answer. I don't need an answer. I know WHY he is doing it. It is because he is jerk face.

That's right. A Jerk Face.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

So You Think You Can Judge

That's right, I'm talking to you, Mia Michaels.

(I know I have already (recently) written a blog about So You Think You Can Dance, but I have more to say.)

You do not give constructive criticism. For that to be true there would have to be something CONSTRUCTIVE about it.

You just tell people that they are bad. And not in a good way.

You tell them you miss the other dancers.

Twice tonight you have basically told the dancers that you had to "dumb down" the routines for them, that the routines were juvenile. You are implying that they can't do something better, but I think that fault falls on the choreographer.

It doesn't seem like you are viewing the dances with an open mind. You have picked your favorites and are tolerating everyone else, even though your favorites are hurt.

On a side note, I almost (ALMOST) hope that Billy stays. I want him to get sent home legitimately, not by default.

In recap, Mia Michaels, if you are going to give criticism find a way to make it constructive. Or else you don't deserve that seat next to Adam Shankman.

And that's my soap box.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Two Across

I have a confession to make. It's kind of shocking.

I love crossword puzzles.

I know, I know. Who am I? I like to crochet AND do crossword puzzles? Am I really a elderly woman trapped in a young woman's body? It's entirely possible. I've never really been good at acting my age.

Anyway, I don't know what it is about them, but I enjoy a good, challenging crossword puzzle. I like knowing some of the answers off the top of my head. I like using the other answers as clues to figure out the answers I don't know. It makes me feel like I still have some deductive reasoning skills and that they all didn't just melt away after I walked across the stage at my college graduation.

There is just something gratifying about taking a blank puzzle that is a disorganized jumble of empty boxes and cryptic clues and finding each one of the answers to those cryptic clues that will fill those empty boxes and make sense of it all.

I know it is something random to blog about, but I completed a crossword puzzle earlier today and enjoyed it. I almost forgot about all those mind teasers in The Reflector (the official newspaper of Mississippi State University) that fulfilled my need to multi-task while I took notes.

What about you? Are there any confessions about nerdy hobbies that you would like to make?

Monday, July 19, 2010

Dear Monday

We can't be friends. Because you ruin everything.

You make Sunday less relaxing because I start to dread your arrival.

You make me get up early.

You bring me back to the reality of being an adult, a concept which, I have decided, is ENTIRELY overrated.

You try to redeem yourself by occasionally being a holiday. I respect that, I do. But I still don't like you.

My dislike for you has nothing to do with the fact that I like to sleep late and that I sometimes long for the carefree days of my childhood. No. It's all your fault. It is your very nature.

Someday I may forgive you, if you stop being such a buzz kill. On that day, we may be able to be friends.

Until then, however, you will continue to ruin a perfectly good weekend, and I will continue to harbor ill will towards you. This is the way it has to be.



Sunday, July 18, 2010


I like the concept of doing craft projects that become cute little decorative touches around my house. The only problem, is that I have no talent for such things. Zeal? Check. Desire? Check. Delusions of grandeur? Check. Talent/Ability? Houston, we have a problem.

I love to get ideas from magazines like Real Simple or The Nest (no one is paying me to say that), but when I try craft projects that take more than a few fool proof steps, it inevitably goes awry. It doesn't help that I'm doing good to coordinate colors on some days.

Am I missing the decorative gene? I think I might be.

I have tons of pictures to hang in my house, but I have no idea about what is the best way to display them. I can't find just the right curtains for my living room, so I had the bright idea to make them myself. But then I remembered the last time I tried to make curtains. It didn't go so well. The material was too thin, I managed to measure them incorrectly and it ended up being ghastly. On a side note, I used them anyway, because I was in college and it was better to have terrible curtains than no curtains at all, and I couldn't really afford to buy more.

Does practice make perfect in this case? Is that all I need to do? Try, try again? Or is it time to give it up and call for help?

I tried to crochet a blanket once. It ended up being misshapen and awkward. Now my dog sleeps on it. He doesn't care what it looks like. I am a little nervous about giving it another try. And yes, I like to crochet. Don't judge me.

I am jealous of people who can master these crafts with very little effort. I want to wow people with my secret talents! I want to be a good decorator!

Although, I will say that some people take this concept a little too far. I often gawk while watching certain shows on HGTV. I just don't think EVERYTHING has to been done by hand or from scratch. I like little touches, but there is such a thing as going overboard.

I guess what I am getting at is that I want to know your take. Do you have a natural talent for crafts? Or did you have to work at it for a while? Is this something that can be cultivated? Or is it one of those things that you either can do, or you can't? If it is something that can be cultivated, what are some great and simple craft or decorative ideas that you would like to share?

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Great Baseball Movies

Today was a lazy Saturday at my house. I pulled weeds in hard to reach places while my husband put together a new weed eater and tackled other parts of the yard. We had to work together to bathe the dog (or else the dog tries to attack the hose). And I did several loads of laundry, while he went to the grocery store.

By late this afternoon, though, we were ready to call it quits. We decided that the rest of the things on our to-do list could wait. They will still need to be done tomorrow. So we relaxed together. And now, we are being lazy and are going to watch a movie.

I have given him the chance to pick the movie, so that he may pick something he likes instead of just agreeing to something I like (which means maybe he won't fall asleep). This means we will most likely watch a baseball movie. I have no problem with this. I feel that you enjoy a movie better when you are in the right mood for it. For instance, I don't appreciate Field of Dreams as much in the middle of December. It's a great movie, but I feel strongly about this. Certain movies are better watched during certain parts of the year.

If you don't believe me, just try it. Try watching a Christmas movie in the middle of July and see how much you enjoy it. Baseball, however, is practically synonymous with Summer and makes it easier to get wrapped up in.

If you want to give this a shot, but don't know which of the many available baseball themed movies to choose from, I will tell you my top three favorites. And just for kicks, I will include my favorite quotes from each of them, as well.

Field of Dreams
"People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come."

A League of Their Own
"There's no crying! There's no crying in baseball!"

The Sandlot
"You're killing me, Smalls!"

Those are my faves. What about you? Do have a favorite Summertime movie?

Friday, July 16, 2010

The Games We Play

I am not a fan of The Hills. In fact, I have never watched a single episode (GASP!). I don't even really like the concept: let's follow around a bunch of rich brats to see if they are interesting. No, thanks. I have a life all my own.

I did hear, though, that at the end of the final episode they revealed it was all fake. Really, though, was anyone actually unsure?

It did get me thinking, though (who would guess that The Hills could cause someone to think rather than simply lowering their IQ), isn't that a reflection of the games we play everyday?

I'm not talking about Scattergories or Cranium, either. I mean the facades we hide behind on a day to day basis. As teens we often dreamed, schemed, and plotted in ways we did not yet understand. Well, most teens did. I was too much of a geek to really care, but not enough of one not to notice all that was going on around me.

And even now, we sometimes hide behind false bravery, or even go to great lengths to mask our own insecurities. I pick these two examples because I feel I am guilty of both. Not too long ago an old friend of mine made the remark that I was always the brave one of us. I was a little taken aback. Me, brave? It made me think of that scene in Dirty Dancing when Patrick Swayze tells Jennifer Grey that she is not scared of anything and she shouts back, "I'm scared of EVERYTHING." Good times.

I am reminded of that scene because I can relate to it. Here I have this person telling me that I am brave, when I feel like that is last adjective I would use to describe myself. And then I began to wonder, was I brave once, or did I just not want to be seen as cowardly? Did I create this facade of courage to hide behind, or once upon a time, was I really courageous?

And yes, I also mask my greatest insecurities in strange ways. I play them off like I don't care about them. Although, most of the time I feel that I am trying to convince myself rather than anyone else. There are others that, instead of simply joking about them, I hide as much as I can. Ironically the ones I try to hide the most are the ones that seem most obvious.

So I am taking off my mask and team uniform. I am quitting. No more games. I will be who I am with no pretenses. I will accept all of my faults. I will admit to as many as I can force myself. I will share some of these with you now as way to show my commitment to this claim.

I am a hypocrite.
I am completely lacking in grace.
I have a tendency to stick my foot in my mouth....a lot.
I sound like a sick feline when I try to sing. I do it anyway.
I can be pretty lazy.
I am still learning that it is okay not to have the last word.
I can't let things go. Forgiveness is not my spiritual gift.
I have no idea what my spiritual gift is.
I don't like it when other people end sentences in prepositions, but I often do because I can't think of a better way to say something (this kind of falls under the hypocrite label, but in the spirit of full disclosure, I thought I would share it).

I could go on, but do not feel the need. You get the idea. I am a hot mess. A work in progress. The important thing is to accept the fact that I am a hot heaping emotional mess and be okay with it. Okay enough to not try to hide it from the world. After all, I really appreciate the "what you see is what you get" people in the world and it's time I joined their ranks.

What about you? Any you putting up a front about anything? Do you play games to hide who you really are? Could your life be compared to reality TV (is it a false reality)?

Thursday, July 15, 2010

So You Think You Can Dance (Dance, Dance, Dance)

No, actually, I don't. I have zero rhythm. None. At all.

Which is sad, really, because I love to dance. It looks awkward and makes people want to divert their eyes, but it's just good fun.

The show on the other hand, has severely disappointed me lately. I am usually fascinated by the contestants who spin and jump and manage to look graceful and elegant, all the while using muscles that I'm pretty sure I don't even have.

But this season is different. They started off with more boys than girls, which I didn't agree with.

Then they sent almost ALL the girls home before sending home a guy. I think this has less to do with the quality of the boys than with the screaming teenage girls who are calling in to support the boys, and the obvious preferences of the judges.

Let me clarify. The judges have picked their favorite dancers and refuse to send their pets home.

Even when those pets look HORRIBLE compared to their competition. But I won't name names. ::cough::cough::BILLY::cough::cough::

I am obviously no dance expert. I don't see some of the things the judges talk about. I can, however, tell when someone is COMPLETELY out of their element.

I don't always understand what the point is of the dances, especially the contemporary ones. But I can tell when someone looks like an uncomfortable worm in the sunshine.

There are other dances who also need help, but they are learning and improving each episode, while others seem to think they already know everything and don't need to work hard to improve.

The show isn't over yet, so I don't know who is going home tonight. What I do know is that my favorite male dancer and my favorite female dancer are both safe for tonight. Maybe I won't give up on the season just yet.

If they send Lauren home soon I will be dismayed. If they send Kent home soon, SO HELP ME. Why? Kent uttered my favorite line on the show when, during the final stage of tryouts they asked him why he was having such trouble accepting compliments on his dancing. He pointed out that he was in absolute awe of the dancers around him and it was still unfathomable to him that he didn't look like a fool next to them (not in those exact words, mind you). And then, Kent uttered the most endearing phrase I have heard a dancer say on the show. Kent, from the middle of nowhere in Ohio said to the judges faces, "I mean, I'm from a freakin' farm, y'know?"

I don't know why that entertained me so (and still makes me giggle a little), but it did. It was endearing. He is baby faced and looks like he never hit puberty, but he has endeared himself.

Plus, I like be able to watch talented dancers perform, even if I will never be one of them. And that's okay. I don't need to be a world famous dancer. I don't expect to take the dance world by storm. After all, I'm from a freakin' farm, y'know?

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Paul the Psychic Octopus

So there is this Octopus in Germany. No that isn't the opening to a terrible joke. This octopus is named Paul.

Paul was asked to choose between opponents for eight different World Cup games. He correctly "predicted" the winner each and every time.

Good for Paul.

I mean it is a weird talent to have been discovered, but sure. To each his own. Part of me, though, is fairly certain that some zoo keepers got together after work one night and got really, REALLY drunk. Schnockered. Trashed. Three sheets to the wind. Hammered. Wasted. Blitzed. Smashed. And then? One of them has the tremendous idea of asking the octopus who will win the next match.

I don't know the real story, but I feel that this is they way it happened. What person, after all, who is of sound mind actually asks an octopus to predict the outcome of a soccer game?

I mean, I talk to my dog, but that's different.

His name isn't Paul.

And he's not an octopus.

He's a boxer.

Don't make me post more pictures of his adorable face. I'll do it. Don't test me.

Anyway, my point is that I really don't think that some completely sane human being just decided to walk up to Paul one day and say, "Paul, who do you think will win?"

I'm just saying.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

A Man Who Doesn't Read Good Books...

Has no advantage over those who can't read them. - Mark Twain

There are a few TV shows I like to watch. I love the drama and the comedy. I love something to look forward to on a scheduled basis. I have a love/hate relationship with the whole "to be continued next week" concept.

I need structure. I thrive on routine.

Don't judge me.

The truth is, though, that nothing - NOTHING - entertains me as much as a good book. I can sit down with a good book and suddenly be miles away from my simple, slightly messy (again, don't judge me) living room. I can be half way around the world in a place I have never been, hundreds of years in the past or a thousand years in the future, and well acquainted with people who don't actually exist.

This ain't Patsy Cline's kind of crazy.

But I get it honest. That's a WHOLE other post, though. Or possibly set of posts. But you're not ready for that yet. Believe me.

But I digress. Books. They are my own personal form of escape from anything that stresses me out. I grew up in a loud household. Not just because there was a number of us (I have three siblings), but also because we are loud people. I learned how to tune out other people. Unless I am being addressed specifically, I can actually completely ignore the people around me.

I cannot, for the life of me, tune out my own stressful obsessing thoughts. I just can't do it. But if I am reading, I can at least push those nagging feelings and worrisome ideas to the back of my mind and let my mind relax just a little. And I love it.

And then the story ends and the stress comes back like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

But for that brief little while I can tune out all those nagging thoughts in my head.

God bless books stores and libraries. They are my safe haven. They help create the barrier between me and some serious obsessive compulsive behavior.

But I won't turn down a chance to watch some of my guilty pleasure faves on the tube.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

Spilled oil, however, needs to be cleaned up.

I don't care what your position is on drilling. In this case, it makes no difference. That's not the point.

The point is that nobody has done anything but point fingers and place blame all this time. I sometimes feel like all involved, BP, regulatory agencies, etc are like children. He did it. Not it. I didn't do it. It's not my fault.

The truth of the matter, however, is that there is more than enough blame to go around. So I don't care who did what so long as SOMEBODY does SOMETHING. BP was putting a better cap on today. Great idea guys, if only someone had thought to do that months ago the tourist economy of the entire coast wouldn't have been destroyed.

Instead, there is oil covered wildlife, fisherman who have lost their livelihood, and businesses that depend on tourists to keep them in the black for the year who will most definitely be in the red and may close by the time the tourist industry in the area fully recovers.

Shame on you for caring more about making positive PR commercials than the actual living creatures (both human and not) whose lives you have ruined. You want to generate positive PR? Take the money you are spending on the ENDLESS commercials of people who "still believe in you" and spend it trying to do something about the mess you made. THAT is what would restore my faith.

But no. That is too logical. That is too much work. That takes someone who actually gives a rodent's rear end, instead of someone who just pretends to do so.

I have a lowered opinion of all involved. Or, more appropriately, not involved.

Two roads diverged in your wood. You did not take the one less traveled by. You stood completely still and pissed everyone off.

Purse your lips and inhale quickly and deeply. That awful sound you hear? Oh, that's just you, sucking at life.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

How Can You Not Love This Face?

Seriously? Every time I get upset about something (whether it is something he may have done, or even completely unrelated), I see this face. It's not fair. I can't be mad when I see this face.

And sometimes you just want to be mad. Or upset. Or sad. Or any other emotion than completely adoring.

Like during the World Cup, when I was upset about Spain's style of play (Congratulations to Spain fans everywhere) because they tend to take dives. I was yelling at the television like a crazy woman and then this face appeared in front of me. He knew I was upset and wanted to make it all better.

And you know what?

He did.

And last night, when I didn't get around to actually posting anything because after a hectic schedule, and then the excitement of a friend's wedding, I decided to read a bit and got so wrapped up in it that I finished the whole thing and then went to bed. I was reading a very exciting part of the book, and like the crazy person that I am, talked to the book out loud. I was incensed that a fictional character could actually be so cold and heartless.

And then.....

...this face.

This face would make the Grinch's heart grow three more sizes.

I will take this moment to ask you to forgive the picture quality. I took the pictures with my phone because he gets a little too close to the actual camera. He's cute and he knows it. So he is kind of an attention whore.

And as long as he keeps looking at me with this ridiculously adorable face, I will let him be one.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Kids Today....

are being completely jilted.

I mean, sure they have these crazy gadget toys that do everything under the sun, but you know what they don't have? Decent cartoons. Or any decent TV shows. Or the chance to really use their imaginations.

Seriously, if the toy does everything for you, what do you get to do? Sit there and bleed brain cells? What a great plan.

And these cartoons. Ugh. What happened to the original Tom & Jerry? Where neither one of them spoke? What happened to Fraggle Rock? Bugs Bunny? Jetsons? Flintstones? And the Disney movies were better, too. Lion King. The Little Mermaid. 101 Dalmations. These were excellent. Don't get me wrong. I still love a good Disney movie. UP made me cry like three times.

But kids today have junk for entertainment. Annoying junk. The kind of junk that makes you want to cut off your own ears rather than listen to another second of the mind numbing awfulness.

So, while I also believe that a lot of kids today are getting away with a lot more than they should, and need more discipline (a lot, not all, there are exceptions), I also think that there are being completely jilted. They need decent, wholesome, real entertainment.

And that's my Soap Box.

Actually, I have more to say, but I'm very tired. I feel I have made my point and need no more supporting evidence, so I'm free to go to bed.

Goodnight all.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Who Died And Made You King?

Your name is LeBron James. You are not actually KING of anything. It's a nickname. Don't let it go to your head. You don't need a friggin' TV special to announce a decision that any and everyone else can make with very little ado.

I think this kid needs a reality check. Allow me.

In fifty years somebody else will have replaced you in the record books. Someone else's name will be on everyone's lips and the only people who will remember who you are will be the kind of people who can win ESPN SceneIt. If you blow out a knee this process will take less time.

It's not that I don't like you. I have no real reason not to.

I don't like what the world has made you.

You are a great basketball player. A phenomenal athlete. I will give you credit for that. Good for you. Do you want a cookie?

In the grand scheme of things, though, that is all you are. You are not the monarch of professional sports.

You are also not alone in your delusions of ridiculous grandeur. I don't have time to actually list ALL of the celebrities who also need a reality check, but among them are T.O., Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, the entire Kardashian Family, I could go on.

So go ahead. Have your one hour announcement special. Just know that the world does not actually revolve around you as all the members of your entourage are, no doubt, telling you. One day, possibly far from now and after many awards and validations, your career will end, and unless you have decent money management skills, so will your free ride. The world, however, will continue turning.

Just know that. And be prepared.

Also know that if you ever need to be reminded of this, I am certainly witchy enough to handle the task.

That is all.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Meat Isn't Murder, It's Delicious

So I know that not everybody agrees with me on this. I'm okay with that, really. The truth is, though, I'm an omnivore. I eat meat. And I really, really like it.

Some people don't like to eat meat because they don't like the taste of it. Okay. To each his own. Some people don't eat meat for health reasons. Again, that's your call. Just be sure you are getting all the nutrients found in meat via some other source.

Then there are the people who don't eat meat because it once had a face. Really? You look at the DELICIOUS, juicy, amazing looking steak in front of you and all you can picture is Daisy the cow? While I understand that this would make you hesitant to shovel a forkful of the heavenly goodness into your mouth, but let me let you in on a little secret about Daisy. Daisy's whole purpose in life is to be that steak. If you take that away, then she has no purpose in life. Do you really want that? A world full of aimless cows? CHAOS. MADNESS.

Now, I also understand that some people refrain from partaking of meat in protest to the way these animals are treated. Not all places are like that, and the ones who do things right still need to make a living. Does that mean I condone the mistreatment of animals? MIND YOUR TONGUE. I think there is a special place in Hell for people who mistreat animals, children, or the elderly. But I do understand that some rancher out there still needs to make ends meet.

So I'm a meat eater. I eat meat. I don't care if it swims, moos, oinks, quacks, or baas.

Don't worry, Daisy. I won't rob you of your purpose in life. Which, ironically, might rob you of your will to live. In which case, I would still eat you. Sometimes I have a weird sense of humor.

And I still eat meat.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Can't Touch This

No, really, please don't.

Sorry I have been absent for a couple of days. I took the weekend off and spent it like it should be spent: with family and in the sun. I went to the lake with my family and enjoyed the water.

But now I must pay the price.

My arms are ridiculously sore from hanging on for dear life while we were tubing. And that soreness is exaggerated because my shoulders are more sunburned than I have ever been in my life.

Some people get "kissed" by the sun. Not me. I had a full on make out session with the sun and ended up with a raging sunburn (does that qualify as a hickey in this analogy?).

So I am truly glad our medicine cabinet was well stocked with Aloe and pain reliever. Two things I never thought that I would be quite this ecstatic to have.

I never had this problem as a child. I could stay in the sun for days and tan quite nicely, but never even turn pink. Just one more reason that adulthood is entirely overrated.

What about you? Any crazy sunburn stories?

Friday, July 2, 2010

Misty, Water-Colored Memories.....

...Of the Way We Were.

Last week my dad brought me several boxes worth of childhood memories in the form of books, yearbooks, photo albums, etc as he cleaned out storage space. As he brought them into my house, I didn't think much about them. It was only when my husband came home later that afternoon and asked what was in them, that I actually began to go through them.

There were yearbooks dating back to my elementary school days, photo albums that included pictures of my siblings and I through the years, awards, medals, certificates of achievement, and scrapbooks. I learned several important things from these boxes that represent my entire childhood.

1. My awkward phase started when I was in about the third grade.

2. My awkward phase isn't over yet.

3. I was a geek and an overachiever.

4. Many of my awards are not framed and have been in a box for over a decade, so my parents, at some point, got tired of acknowledging that I was an overachiever.

5. A worn and torn stuffed animal has the power to bring back an entire flood of cherished memories.

6. Scrapbooks from old friends can bring tears to my eyes.

7. Basically, I'm an emotional mess.

8. When I have kids, they will more than likely be in serious need of braces and glasses.

What about you? What are your confessions from your childhood? Any horrific hairstyles or outfits?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Don't Take This The Wrong Way, But...

No Offense...

I can't say I'm not guilty of this, but I have to ask. When did we start thinking that starting a sentence with "no offense" actually took away the sting that inevitably follows. When did it become socially acceptable to insult a person, to give them the emotional equivalent as a punch in the gut, as long as you prefaced it with the fact that they should disregard any pain the comment might cause?

Besides, if you really want to insult someone and not sound like a terrible human being, you start of with "bless your heart". Then you sound like you are trying to be sweet to them and they, in fact, are the ones that need help. Then, if they get mad at you, it just seems like they are overly sensitive. My daddy always told me that the art of being Southern was to be able to tell somebody to go to hell and make them think they'd enjoy the trip. I still don't condone such behavior, but I will take this chance to point out that Sun Tzu could learn a couple of things from little old ladies in the South. THAT is the real art of war. But I am off topic, as usual. (I don't like to read William Faulkner novels because of his stream-of-consciousness style of writing, and now I found myself guilty of it. I have seen hypocrisy, and it is me. I am shamed.....oh, well. I'll live.)

Telling someone not to take something the wrong way and "no offense" means they are still going to take it the wrong way and be offended. You have not actually taken away the sting of whatever insulting thing just spewed from your mouth. You have just taken away their ability to get mad at you in public. Everyone heard what you said (which is somehow acceptable because of your disclosure), but the target of your verbal katana, who has been deeply wounded, cannot retaliate and must smile and pretend as if, indeed, no offense was taken (because somehow THAT is what is unacceptable). In short, you've not only gotten away with being a complete jerk to someone, but you've also managed to make yourself a bigger jerk by robbing them of the right to be incensed by your comment. Congratulations. You just became a world class butthead.

You'll remember (or just look up) and see that I can't say I am not guilty of this. Does this mean that, at some point or another, I have been a world class butthead? You betcha. I am woman enough to admit that. Of course, after this little rant/moment of reflection, I will try to not do it again. I am a work in progress.

What about you? Have you ever made yourself a world class butthead? If so, are you going to try to avoid such behavior henceforth?