'Only at Walmart' and other acts of ridiculousness

Last night while flipping through the channels during a 'Tough Love' commercial break (I heart VH-1) I happened to stop on the news. I never do this. I am a grown woman who never, ever watches the news. I don't need news to remind me that people are inherently selfish, greedy, attention mongers. I have reality tv.

But apparently, at some point during the dreary day that was yesterday, someone decided that it would be a good idea to drive their van, 35 mph, in reverse, into a Walmart just a few miles from my house. But only after crashing into someone else's van first. Naturally.

In my search for a picture to add to this lame post (brain is still a little mushy) all I found were slideshows of the said 1980 something, maroon minivan, sticking, nose first out of the entrance doors, yellow police tape just a flappin in the wind. Does Walmart ever go a day without yellow police tape? What is it about that place that whispers 'come hither' into a future mug shot's ear?

I also learned, in my stupid news search for the van, that a woman was denied insurance because of a picture she put on Facebook. She hasn't worked in a year due to severe depression and was still receiving benefits...that is, until they saw a picture of her whoopin' it up at Chippendale's on Facebook. Who knew Facebook would end up being such a nark?

Then there was this. Oh, this. It's from a couple months ago. Some dairy farmers in Belgium protested by spraying cops with milk. Seriously. And it gets better. They sprayed them with milk...

...directly from the cow's udder.

Have an awesome Monday.

(Insert clever title here.)

Okay, we all know I’m in school, got a bunch of kids, blah blah blah—so by Friday, my brain is pretty shot. Mush actually. Pudding. Chocolate with vanilla swirl. Or cheese. Goat cheese. Breaded and fried…but I digress.

I’m pretty sure there are points on Fridays (and the rest of the weekend) where my brain stops working altogether. Which is probably why one day I'll end up at Target in house slippers and with one boob hanging, National Geographic style, under my shirt because I’ve forgotten to put it back in my harness of a nursing bra.

The most my brain can handle on a Friday is a sampling of all its random happenings. Wanna hear it? Here it goes…

1. In last Friday’s list of randoms I mentioned that I don’t particularly care for one Ms. Britney Spears but loved the bathing suit she wore in her new video ‘3’. Well, ladies, I have a confession. I have watched that video so many times this week, I have it saved in my favorites. I love this song. I love this video. I want to BE Britney in all her over-sexualized queen of popness in this video. From the messy hair to the sunglasses to those tacky lace pantyhose. I’ve even practiced the choreography in the shower. I’m serious.

2. Gas. It’s on my mind. And I’m not talkin’ the regular unleaded for $2.59 per gallon kind. I’m talkin’ the doubled over in the bathroom praying to Jesus to please, Lord, make it stop kind. The kind that made me 30 minutes late to my marketing research exam last night. The kind that, although the pain nearly killed me and gave me the shakes, has suddenly made my post-baby belly appear the slightest bit flatter. Score!

3. Occasionally I’ll watch Oprah. Did you see the one where she gave those gay guys tickets to see Mariah Carey and looked like they caught the Holy Spirit in the audience? Hilarious. Anyway, I didn’t watch it this week, but did notice that one day she had Sarah Palin as a guest and the next day the guest was…Jenna Jameson. Something about that just doesn’t seem right.

4. If I keep ignoring the dishes in the sink, eventually they will go away.

5. But probably not.

6. Ela over at Extra Dressing on.the.side commented on a post last week and happened to mention that her husband resembles Lenny Kravitz. Um, say what?! I'm in love with him. As a matter of fact, Lenny is in my top 5. As in my top 5 celebrities I can date and the husband can't get mad about it (or something like that). We have an agreement. The rest of my list includes LL Cool J, Brad Pitt, and David Bromstad. He’s a designer on HGTV. He’s magically delicious—and gay. The husband’s list is ever changing, but I’m pretty sure Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie still make the cut.

Who’s on your list?? Do tell.

And while you're thinking about it, do yourself a favor and have a fantastic weekend!

The End is Near

The end of the semester, that is. Just over three more weeks of consumer behavior, marketing research, and business information systems. Sounds like exciting stuff, right? (Actually, I love my consumer behavior class—don’t get me started on marketing research though).

I have three group projects with three papers, two presentations and two finals. And I also have an exam tomorrow night. The point of all this—I’m going to be a bad bloggy friend for the next few days trying to get some work done lest I fail and be out thousands and thousands of dollars. This would make me less than happy. For real. But I'll be back to commenting more regularly in a few days!

Ooh, and before I forget. I submitted the plot summary for my completed novel into a one-page summary contest on another blog. The top 5 will be posted next week I think and the winner will be considered for publication. I’m not sure if readers are supposed to vote on the top 5 or what, but I’ll let you all know if I make it.

I'm all excited, because I watch too much Sex and the City, and the thought of a book advance to buy a fabulous pair of shoes with has my brain all fuzzy with lovely things like this:

(CB's from Neiman's--too yummy for words!)

Happy Wednesday!

Bling bling!

Can I just tell you how awesome the husband is?

You will be jealous. You will ask to borrow him. You will be denied.

This weekend…

the husband…

cleaned the bathroom!

I mean, scrubbed the shower, the bathtub, the sinks, the toilet, the floor, the counters. The place was like, ‘bling, bling’ sparkly. (Remember that song? With Lil’ Wayne before the Grammy’s and Katie Couric. “Bling, bling. Every time you come around my city, bling, bling…” No? Okay, I’ll stop now.) I needed my ‘I’m better than you’ sunglasses just to stand in the place with the lights on it was so bright. I was amazed, thankful, and so high off of bleach I could almost vomit. It was wonderful.

Thank you, husband. Thank you. Because you know how much I hate to clean a bathroom—and a kitchen, and to do laundry, and to put laundry away, and to dust, and to wash dishes, and to vacuum, and to…

Kind of like an ode, but not really

I think we’ve established—on more than one occasion, actually—that I’m kind of ridiculous.

I have a tendency to over plan, over schedule and more or less stress myself out to near stroke-having proportions. It’s just my way.

So, in January the family and I are driving north to visit some of my girlfriends from college. They haven’t seen G since she was months old and have never met LB. Also, mama just needs some time with the ladies for those important girly pastimes of gossiping, shopping, Facebook stalking, and exhibiting overall annoyance with every woman who is skinnier than we are. (The latter is a sickness I have no intentions of curing. It’s much more fun this way.)

Saturday evening while I was supposed to be researching the GDP of Syria, I was browsing Ann Taylor on the web, looking for an outfit for said trip. I found the sweetest top and needed a bottom to wear with it. I thought of the jeans I have currently (and here comes the ridiculous part…wait for it…wait…for…it…) and decided I was going to wear a pair of jeans that I have not been able to squeeze into in four years.

Riiight.

Naturally, I run upstairs and dig through my closet (also known as ‘the place where I keep all those uber cute clothes that don’t fit anymore’) for the jeans. I slip one leg in, then the other. From the knees down, I am seriously rockin’ these jeans. From the knees up (and—gasp!—from behind) I look more like this:

It was like Muffin-Tops Gone Wild in there. Like my butt’s got the clap and is high-tailing out of my jeans to the nearest free clinic. I couldn’t even get it to zip or button around the post-baby belly hang I’m still sporting.

The thighs fit okay so I figure I’ve got two months to really make this happen. The jeans are fiercer than fierce with my patent leather Mary Jane stilettos. If only there was a way I could get people to ignore the fact that my jeans don’t close, I can’t sit down, and my belly has taken permanent residency in my lap.

I guess I could always grab a skinny girl and use her as a belt.

'Lock it up!' 'No, you lock it up!'

No, this post has nothing to do with Wedding Crashers. I just felt like saying it. Pretty random, I know. Well, that’s because when I sat down to think about what to post on today all these random things kept popping into my head. So I figured, let’s just do a list of randoms but call it something more interesting than ‘A list of randoms.’ ‘Lock it up. No, you lock it up!’ was the first title my brain suggested. I went with it.

(Perhaps today’s post should have been entitled, ‘Nobody cares, woman! Just start the post already.’)

All right then.

(photo via Amaira P.)

1. I’m a pretty big nerd. (Only, not half as cute as this girl…or half as white.) That’s right; I’m nerdtastic. I read books two and three times over, underlining sentences that send my little heart a-flutter and tabbing the pages. I love words and the dictionary. Last week when Daffy used the word ‘pontification’ I piddled a little. A new word. It was delightful.

2. And while we’re on nerds—I also love N.E.R.D. Look them up. They did what I consider my theme song ‘She likes to move.’ Glorious. (And only a nerdtastic person would say something like ‘my theme song.’ Yeah, when I’m feeling fierce the world moves in slow motion a la every hip hop video ever made—big fans for the hair blowing, lip gloss for days, the works. This is the song that plays when you see me coming. In my head, anyway.)

3. …and I love nerds candy. I could eat it by the pound.

(photo via bing.com)

4. I don’t care for Britney Spears, but saw the video for ‘3’ while randomly nursing at 4am and am loving this white one piece. (The one she wore in the video, the deep-v went waaay lower than this one.) This wide-load that keeps following behind me and the stretch marks my kids left behind would look awesome in it.

5. Bluntcard.com might be the funniest site I’ve been to in a while. It’s crass in a way that I am entirely not but can still get a giggle. The kind where you cover your mouth all demure like and pretend you don’t think it’s hilarious. I first saw a bluntcard over at K.Law. She’s pretty hilarious too—go visit her. If not for the humor, then for the sheer fact that she said ‘good googley moogley’ in a post this week. I about died.

6. I often fantasize about being interviewed by Oprah when my novel drops. (If rappers can say it, so can I.) These interviews always seem to pop into my head while I’m in the shower. Perhaps that’s why I seem to forget to actually bathe when I’m in there.

7. I did not start this blog thinking it would turn into a humor blog. As I matter of fact, I don’t really think I’m that humorous (this is just what the thoughts sounds like in my brain). I started this blog to practice my writing…incidentally; my novels are nothing like my blog. I’m going to work my writing in somehow—give me a minute.

(photo via snorgtees.com)

8. Only a nerd would find this t-shirt funny. I first saw J.D. on Scrubs wearing it and nearly fell off the couch laughing. The husband did not find it nearly as amusing.

9. ‘Correlation is not causation.’ I’m sure that can be applied to life somehow, but for right now it’s one of the answers on my marketing research exam next week that I keep forgetting.

Happy weekend folks! I'll obviously be studying...you?

To always be this way...

(via we heart it)

Can I tell you all a little bit about my parents?

They grew up in Panama and come from big families (my mom is one of 5 children; my dad is one of 9). They met in church when my mom was about 13 or 14 and my dad 15 or 16—I can’t remember which. Their families knew each other. My mother was good friends with one of my dad’s sisters in high school. My maternal grandmother was a teacher and had another one of my dad’s sisters (he has 6 of them) in her second grade class. My maternal grandfather was the principal of their school and knew my father well. They sat on my mother’s porch and talked about the Bible while my grandfather peeked at them from inside the house.

To this day, I make jokes about how sickening it all was. How everyone was friends and knew one another since they were practically in diapers. How they used to sit on the porch together—I imagine one of those big, Southern porches and a porch swing; a small light at the front door swarmed by curious moths. My father opens his Bible and reads from the Songs of Solomon (a love story). (I have no idea if it were quite that storybook, but love the thought, regardless).

I make jokes because, well, I can be cynical like that. But really, honestly, I think it’s rather sweet.

They were married in California in 1977 at the courthouse. They had popcorn and Kool-Aid as refreshments. Two months later they flew to Panama where their family still lived and had a proper wedding, complete with a parade of bridesmaids, groomsmen and flower girls (oh my!) My father helped pick out her wedding gown.

My favorite picture of my parents (which, unfortunately, I don’t have) is of them walking out of the church, hand in hand. My mother was 20 years old and beautiful. The smile on my father’s face melts my heart.

Today is my parents’ 32nd wedding anniversary. 32 years of marriage.

I think it’s funny when I tell people that the husband and I have been married for 6 years and they respond with this ridiculous shock and awe. Like we deserve a medal for making it past the 5 year mark—or a first class ticket to the nearest psych ward. I’m not sure which.

I think it’s funny because when I look around at the married couples in my life, they make our 6 years seem like a mere drop in the proverbial bucket. Their years together are admirable, encouraging. The fact that they still laugh together, after years of the same stories and the same jokes, is a gift I intend to give and give.

Not that our 6 years is anything to ignore, it’s a good start, but for us (I hope), it’s just that—a start.

Happy Anniversary.