I think it just called me mommy

Sometimes things want me to adopt them, take them home, and love them forever. If I don't, I wind up feeling guilty, like I've seen a tiny child shivering in the snow without a coat and rather than bundling them up and making them some soup, I have just said "I don't care what happens to you. Be on your way little waif." Heartless and cruel. See....I'm not GREEDY. I'm actually really selfless for wanting to open my heart and home to these wayward widdle babies.

Examples of innocent little vagabond children that need my love and warm soup:

Tiny Pony in Jar
Do you see that little face? He needs me! The caption even asks me directly if I'll take him home!

G is for Giraffe
Too tall for flowers, but not too tall for a hug from yours truly!

The Blue Bird of Happiness and the Little Red Bird of Crankiness
Which one will I be today?

Rody
I can't explain why I need him. But I do.

Bird Circle
Tweet!

Piggies!
Oink!


And so, dear things, I am truly sorry that I currently cannot financially support your presence in my home. You should know however, that you are loved.

Things That Rock!

Burt's Bees Replenishing Lip Balm
My lips, which moments ago were chapped and ouchy are now smooth and well....replenished!

JR Watkins Apothecary Lemon All-Purpose Cleaner
Not only does this stuff smell good, clean well, and have pleasing-to-the-eye packing, but it is also the following:

• Amonia Free
• Animal Ingredient Free
• Benzene Free
• Biodegradable
• Boron Free
• Butyl/Ethyl Free
• Clorine Free
• Diethelene Ethyl Free
• Dye Free
• Formeldahyde Free
• Petrochemical Free
• Isopropenal Free
• Kerosene Free
• Mineral Spirit Free
• Non Toxic
• Phosphate Free
• Phosphoric Acid Free
• Propelyne Glycol Free
• SLS Free
• Sulferic Acid Free

Post-it Highlighter Pen
Highlight! Flag! Highlight! Flag! Office supplies make my heart joyful.

Aveeno Calming Comfort Baby Lotion
For a lady with crazy sensitive skin, this stuff is pure magic in lotion form. I try to use Aveeno products for most things because I find that being consistent with the brands I use helpful in the care of my skin.

Hugg-A-Planet
Sometimes we just need to hug something. And sometimes it feels like the whole world needs a hug. Problem solved!!!

Lots of other things rock, but I just felt the need to sing the praises of those particular items this afternoon. More to come!

Glitter Paint Pony's Pony Parade!

Help me Obi-Wan Kepony. You're my only hope.

I pity the foal!

Those aren't scars! I'm a magical pony!
I was simply eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches filled with hopes and wishes!

Edward Scissor Hooves

All the single ponies, All the single ponies
Oh, oh, oh

Great Gift Idea

I play Jots and Tittles all the time.
But it has nothing to do with Bible Trivia.
GASP!
*wink

The Greatest Story of All

Mary? Check!

Joseph? Check!

Baby Jesus? Check!

Random farm animals? Check!

Angels? Check!

3 Wise Men? Check!

Drunken hobo wearing a cape?CHECK!


Sigh....my favorite part of the story has always been when the drunken hobo in a cape gave the baby Jesus the most majestic birthday present of all...

Half of a week old breakfast sausage and a Coca Cola bottle filled with his pee.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

My Great Great Great Uncle....i think

I mean I know he's my uncle of some greatness. And it sounds like he was pretty great. I'm just not a hundred percent how many greats he gets in his association with me. His claim to fame was designing the font "Bell Gothic", commonly seen on your computers as well as in your phone books. Fancy, eh?! I love looking at this picture of him. I like to think we have the same eyes. Maybe?

Chauncey H. Griffith (1879–1956), American printer and typeface designer.

Sounds like somebody needs to sing a Christmas carol

I wish everyone was filled with joy and jolliness at this time of year. I know a lot of people are. Little kids are. I try to be. I was watching the news this morning and they were talking about how your happiness is directly effected by the happiness of those around you. Even more reason for me to work really hard at being upbeat and positive. It's hard when people are always trying to SUCK THE JOY out of life. Joysuckers. You know who you are.

Dos and Don'ts for the season

DO

When I am hanging up decorations, go with your first instinct!

Be excited about the snowflakes!
Go ahead and exclaim "Snowflakes! Pretty!"

DON'T

Continue with "That one doesn't match. It's completely out of place."

Yeah. Great. Thanks.
NO TWO SNOWFLAKES ARE ALIKE, DOUCHE BAG.

DO

Be welcoming and excited to have as many willing voices as possible
join in your festive holiday refrain!

DON'T

Glare at me and grumpily retort "Great. Now there are too many sopranos.

You shouldn't be allowed to join our choir unless you bring a man with you." Wow.

How very charitable and Christ-like of you, you cranky old church broad.

DO

Embrace the happy accident of your sign malfunctioning and
turn it into a lovely holiday tradition!

DON'T

Be a joysucking journalist and accuse those who are full of the spirit of goodwill and

magic of only seeking attention.

"The company did it on purpose. And is looking for publicity. Suddenly we felt cheap and used. A patsy for a holiday promotional stunt. Our belief in the magic of Christmas shattered."

Sure! Of course it probably helps their business, but it also fills me with glee when I exit the Interstate. I would like to think that that is their true motivation.*

*Okay...so their article got more positive and apparently the majesty of it all worked it's Grinch-transforming power over them and "warmed their cockles, our Christmas spirit rekindled, our faith in humanity restored."

I guess what I'm saying is that I would like our first, last, and constant state of mind to be as cheerful and happy as possible. I am by no means claiming to be a master at this. It is hard to get out of a funk once you're in it. Still....that should be no excuse.

This season I am going to vow to stay as shimmery and festive in my attitude as humanly possible. If some one's negativity starts to change my outlook I will try my best to remember that perhaps my positivity could change theirs. I would like to believe that we all have naturally good tendencies. We want to be happy and to make others happy. It can't possibly be that hard if we just stay conscience of the impact we have on others.

So all together now! Deep cleansing breath. Aaaaaand....GO!

If I were a celebrity...

I would name my babies the following (Boy or Girl? You be the judge!):

Cinsere

Cam'ron

Legend

Shasta

Xev

Nimue

Banner

Labirynth

Quewhin (pronounced Kevin)

Feel free to comment with more suggestions!

It's All About Me

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 1 or fewer people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Things I'm Allergic To

• Penicillin
• Cantaloupe
• Fire Ants
• Wool
• Chicken
• Smoke
• Math
• Dashboard Confessional
  

Co-workers

A: We should do something together!
K: Okay! Like what?
A: Something good for us.... Active, ya know?
K: We could take an aerobics class!
A: Yeah.....or a dance-aerobics class?
K: Or we could be in a play!
A: I can't sing.
K: You don't have to sing.
A: Yeah but I can't act.
K: Oh.
A:....... But I was an extra in a real movie one time!
K: We should do that!! Let's be extras in movies!!!
A: Okay!!!

A: Wait.......Just so you know...I don't do porno.

Height of Luxury.

I only shit on the finest of crystals.

The Miracle of Life.....and thumb drives.

Meet My Hero. Meat, My Hero.

Okay, so I just stole this from Fail Blog, but I pretty much love it.

Dear Wind,

I'm sorry for using such strong and hateful language. I don't hate you, but you are a pest sometimes. The whole umbrella shenanigan you pulled this morning? Not cool. The crazy swirly nest you turn my hair into? Not my favorite. Mostly you are a bad influence on our friend the rain. Independently the two of you are just fine, but when you get together you turn into pesky, naughty little school boys who aren't bad or evil, but get into trouble all the same. Again I apologize. In the future I will try to praise you for your gentle breezes through the trees and all of your help with pollination. All I ask is that you calm down a little bit. Maybe it's time to lay off the sugar.

Sincerely,

GlitterPaintPony

Stupid Wind

Stupid wind just flipped my umbrella inside out. That's always so embarrassing, though I'm not sure why. There's nothing you can do about it and it happens to everyone. But then, as my umbrella righted itself, it swung into the coffee cup I was holding in my other hand and spilled it all over my pretty coat. Argh. So frustrating. But again. Who am I mad at? It's not my fault. It's not anyone's fault.... Except the wind. I hate the wind.

Stupid wind.

Hey....remember that time....

Hey....remember that time when I was gonna have a blog and then I was gonna write in my blog and then I was gonna hope that people read the things that I wrote in my blog because I was a blogger and was regularly writing things for people to read in my blog?



Oops.

33x365

M.V.: Cologne-Drenched Mulitilinguist

32x365

T.K.: Ultimate in Douchebaggery

31x365

Dr. Waller: Wise-Cracking Gynocologist

30x365

D.Lo.: Easily Offended Dancer

29x365

B.Kennedy: Wedded Stallion

28x365

Mr. Low: Jolly OKRA!

27x365

A.T.: Naturally Curly Chuck Norris Poster

26x365

Nanners: Puppeteering Goddess

25x365

Hoot: Snuggly Puddin'

24x365

DJ: Jazzy Cradle-Robber

23x365

DHarn: Lesbian Communicator

22x365

Brookey: Finger Sucking Fit Thrower

21x365

Bellhajl: Pompous Ponytail

20x365

RonThom: Presidential Line-Jumper

19x365

Katy L: Room-sharing Underwear-stealer

18x365

Amanda M.: Spiffy Mandy!

17x365

J.H.: Toxic Cow

16x365

Jeremy: Barbequed Mistake

15x365

James Brown: Godfather of Vocal Studies

14x365

D. Tilt: Annoying Latin Passion

13x365

E.S.: Drunken Bladder Infection

12x365

Coach Walker: Mustachioed Molester

11x365

Cory: Hesitant Lieutenant

10x365

Sterling Gaston Ingle-Mead: Fancypants Tax Payer

9x365

ConToll: Rambling Pastor

8x365

L.B.: Bumbling Monkey Wrench

7x365

Bill B.: Lonely Landscaper

6x365

Arlene H: Forgetful Lunch Lady

5x365

Arnie: Recovering Hand-Holder

4x365

Aunt Bob: Ambiguous Neighbor

3x365

A.N.: Entitled Jerk

2x365

Andrew: Awkward Frog

1x365

Alana: Cheerful Supervisor

THIS IS ONLY A TEST

Just checking that this whole "pre-publishing" thing is working. :)

x365

I'm excited for this!! It will be a challenging little project. Yvanka is doing one as well, so we will be keeping each other on track! Thank goodness for the pre-publishing feature on this here blog. It will be neat to see the differences and similarities between our lists. We know a lot of the same people, but may experience them differently. Plus we are each taking our own distinct approach as to the format. I'll let her explain her version, but mine will be very short 'definitions'. Approximately two to four words (generally an adjective and a noun) for each person in my life. It's challenging to distill your experience of a person down to that perfectly descriptive essence. Just a note: some of these may sound like funny juxtapositions, but keep in mind that both words pertain to the person, though not necessarily to one another. It will make more sense once I start posting my list. I'll try to have other entries to my blog, but for the most part you can count on one addition to my x365 list each day.

Woke Up It Was a Chelsea Morning

I created this word cloud out of the lyrics of one of my favorite songs. This site is fun to play around on!

Lunchtime Heart to Heart + Confessions

A young mother to her son: So how's life?

Young son: Well...I've been here for eleven years and I'm still not tired of it.

________________________________________________________

Confessions:
** I eavesdrop on your conversations and post them on my blog.
** I am tempted to punch teenagers in the neck. DAILY.
** I just ate a brownie AND a cookie.
** If left to my own devices, I could easily eat an entire family size bag of Cheetos (the puffy kind) in approximately a half an hour.
**I make my BF turn the television on real loud so that there is NO chance he can hear me pee.

Point of Etiquette

As published in Godey's Lady's Book January 1850

"We may as well mention here, for the sake of the other sex, that loud thumping with canes and umbrellas, in demonstration of applause, is voted decidedly rude. Clapping the hands is quite as efficient, and neither raises a dust to soil the dresses of the ladies, not a hubbub enough to deafen them. "

Agreed.

Enchanting.

Cutest Things in the World

* Miniature Saltine crackers
*Sparkly pony stickers
*Babies who wear legwarmers
*Kermit the Frog (especially when you get to see his little Froggy legs dancing)
*My doggy when she rests her head on my shoulder
*The stapler on my desk that is in the shape of a chicken
*Paperclips in fun shapes
*Duckies (JUST LOOK AT THIS LIL' GUY!!!)
*Hoodies (and the songs that are made up about them)
*AMAZING Poetry by AWESOME people (That's right I'm talkin' about you, Trizzle)
*Tiny plastic mermaids
*Bunnies snuggling with puppies
*My robin's egg blue iPod Nano
*My purple faux crocodile wallet
*When my grandpa tells me to drive safe at the end of all phone chats. Regardless of if I'm going to be driving any time soon
*Baby bears
*When my dear friends Mama and Papa Watson hold hands, wear pimp hats and sing karaoke


Feel free to add on to my list! It's good to appreciate the cuteness in this world.

Rapturous

Do you ever worry about what will happen to all of your unsaved friends and family just after the Lord lifts the rest of us GOOD people up to heaven? Got an extra $40 layin' around? Aren't you just aching to send them one last email about the glory of Christianity, but are afraid you'll be too busy frolicking in the clouds and playing your harp on the good side of those pearly gates to even think about logging onto your Yahoo account? Thank goodness we're not the only ones worrying about such pressing matters. Here's your chance to let them all know that, "Yes, in fact you've been left behind."

I am particularly impressed with the fail-proof system they have in place for determining when the Rapture has in fact occured. Five dedicated Christian representatives from around the country (because who even cares about the rest of the world) have been selected to log in to the website every three days. If three of the five fail to do so at this predetermined frequency, the Rapture has indeed occurred. Ya know...or they were on vacation. Or the power went out. Or their computers broke.....so basically, most likely the Rapture has occurred.

This will prompt a message full of apocolyptic scripture (God's honest truth) to be electronically delivered from beyond to 62 of my most heathenistic friends and family members telling them to repent immediately.

Let's face it. It's probably too late for those sinners to convince God to save them from the fire and brimstone, but as a GOOD Christian, you want to make sure that you get one last chance to let them know that you were right and they were wrong. BIG TIME. Neener-Neener.

Nature.

Story hour

Our campus hosts conferences during the summer, so oftentimes our cafeteria is packed full of odd combinations of people like barbershop quartets and nurses, basketball players and quilters, and my favorite, cheerleaders and mormon pre-teens.

Today, the cheerleaders have taken over, so my seating options were limited. I chose a table with 8 chairs around it, which is just asking for strangers to join me. Sure enough, two elderly gentlemen in shortsleeves and ties asked if they could sit at my table. I commented that it can be difficult to find a good spot.

The man to my left said, in a polite southern drawl as he gestured to a ridiculously adorned chili dog, "Well, I'll tell you somethin' Miss. As soon as I take a bite of this, it'll have no trouble finding a good spot." And then he chuckled and patted his belly.

From what I can tell, they sold insurance for a living and were simply on a little jaunt over to our cafeteria for a snack. They spent their (and my) lunch hour telling all sorts of gruesome tales.

"I knew a woman who ran over her son with a lawn mower. It ripped all his insides out onto the grass. He lived, but he's kind of slow, and I bet his mom feels pretty bad."

They thanked me for sharing my table and went on their way.

Good times in higher education.

This is my dance space.

I have a genetic predisposition towards getting stuck in close proximity to less than desirable individuals. They may be smelly, touchy-feely, or any other version of annoying. At the movies, they are loud-talking, seat-kicking adults who should know better. Or even worse...confrontational pre-teens.

In fact, I'm on a plane right now and my preciously limited space is seriously being encroached upon. The man next to me would most certainly be offered a lude public bathroom stall service, judging by the wideness of his stance. His arm is slowly but surely creeping past his fair share of the arm rest, which I have chosen to not even touch. When he first sat down he gave me a dweeby smile that said "Hey new friend. Are you ready for some fun?" No. No. I'm not. We're not friends. Here, have some bitch-vibes.

Then he flipped the arm rest between us up and leaned into my space. Oh hell no. I require that barrier. I like to envision a germ-blocking forcefield directly separating my dance space from whatever strange human's I am unlucky enough to be assigned next to. If this man deactivates it, I will probably cry, sissy slap him until he scoots over, and then develop a severe case of whatever disease I happen to imagine him having.

I looked at the man like, "Uh. No." and then flipped it back down. We eyed each other awkwardly. Awesome. Now we get to share this yard of airplane for the next hour. I can't wait. Now please move your effing elbow back to your side. Thanks.

Here Comes the Sun, Doo Doo Doo Doo....

This past weekend was absolutely gorgeous, which meant it was time to break out the summer dresses, flip-flops, sunglasses and a ridiculously high spf sunscreen.

On my way to a lovely outdoor cafe where I planned to meet up with Yvanka to enjoy the loveliness of the day, I realized my car was pretty much devoid of all gas. Whoops. I pulled into the station, which was highly populated with other weather-appropriately clad folks.

Full sunshine is a rare commodity here, so when it graces us with its presence, our vitamin D deficient brains turn us all into silly, jolly, grinning fools. I love it.

One dude at the gas station, who on any other gloomy day is probably a badass motherfucker, was practically frolicking he was so drunk on sunshiney goodness. Picture cornrows, wifebeater, prison tatts, and a big dopey grin. He exited the convenience store with a spring in his possibly gang affiliated-Nike shoe wearin' step. He was so smiley in fact, that I had to return the kindess with a little "hello" and a wave. He began filling his junker of a car, which was blasting the scary kind of hip-hop. Something about "smackin' yo' bitch on the way to the club where you're gonna do it with a ho on the bar after layin' a five on it (which apparently has something to do with drugs)." Whatever. Have I mentioned how very, very white I am?

"Gonna go enjoy this nice weather we're having today?" says Snoop Double Jizzle

"Why, yes, I certainly am!"

"Me too. I'm gonna go out on my yacht right after I take a shower."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah...and then I'm gonna get fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked up."

"Well.....enjoy!"

Happy Summer!

Religious Complexities

I work at a church. I am in the very regular habit of questioning EVERYTHING the moment I step through the doors of "God's house." It takes every ounce of my will power to not roll my eyes and let out big 'HARUMPH" noises during the service.

I'm an awful heathen.

I remember the paycheck and the appreciation of all of the devout old folks in the congregation and muster up just enough grace to behave appropriately.

And then the pastor says the most ridiculous crap!!! He's testing me! How long can she keep a straight face? How long before she completely loses her shit, takes her shirt off and screams profanities all the way out the sanctuary?!

Not long folks, not long.

But really...

"Reason is the devil's whore." He actually said these words on Sunday. How do I apply that to my life? What am I supposed to do with that? I mean, other than repeat it to everyone I have ever come into contact with, preach it from the mountaintops, and tattoo it on my ass?

No joke, I am ridiculously tempted. It's just too good.

I am not there for God, the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost. I am a little there for the money. And a lot there for the golden nuggets of absurd wisdom. Amen.

What I Could Have Said

Dear Sister of My Ex-Boyfriend,

Thank you for your kind words. You were always lovely towards me. As for your brother, I am sorry that he spontaneously turned into a complete and total crazy ass wank-tard who married a dirty vagina (vah-JIE-nah).

I sincerely hope that someday he decides to contact his family again.

At that point, I sincerely hope you decide to shun him for being a bastard-face.

Love,
That Girl Who Isn't Bitter

The More You Know

So I learned some new things this weekend!

I bought a book at a thrift shop that was published in the 80's. It's called "What's Happening to My Body? A Guide for Girls" Oh yeah. And there are drawings.

I'm a little concerned that when my egg is released that it looks like a hairy eyeball exploding out of a potato. But hey...that's science my friend.

I also appreciate the handy-dandy pronunciation guide they provided throughout the book. I mean, how else would I know how to pronounce these tricky words? Now it's clear. Thank you.

"DOOSH-ing"
"SKRO-tum"
"vah-JIE-nah"

I love learning.

Oh Don't You Remember...

I have two songs stuck in my head today. From the lyrics, you might think that I was feeling blue, but for me these songs remind me of walks with my grandma, talent shows with my cousins, car rides with my parents and childhood in general.

The words are downright depressing, almost laughable even. In fact, my dad always teases my grandma about making them up. Then one year she found an entire book of these sad children's songs. I'll have to ask her what the book is called, or at least what time period these songs originated from.

I fully intend to pass them along to my someday children. Let them enjoy being the quirky kid on the playground singing lilting tunes with morbid poetry.

First...a little ditty about friendship...

Once there lived side by side
Two little girls
Used to dress just alike
Hair done in curls
Blue gingham pinafores
Stockings of red
And a sweet bonnet tied
On each pretty head

School days are over
Secrets they tell
As they go hand in hand
Down by the dell

One day a quarrel rose!
Hot tears were shed
"I don't wanna play in YOUR yard!"
And the other said

"I don't wanna play in YOUR yard
I don't like you anymore
You'll be sorry when you see me
Sliding down my cellar door

You can't holler down my rain barrel
You can't climb my apple tree!
I don't wanna play in YOUR yard
If you can't be good to me!"

(we always added a VERY whiney "WAH" at the end.)

And now....a nice song about summer time and babies!

Oh don't you remember a long time ago
Two babes in the woods
Their names I don't know
Were stolen away
On a bright summer's day
And lost in the woods
I've heard people say

And when it was night
So sad was their plight
The stars did not shine
The moon gave no light
They sobbed and they sighed
And they pitifully cried
Poor babes in the woods
They laid down and died

And when they were dead
The robins so red
Took strawberry leaves
And over them spread
And sang them a song
The whole night long
Poor babes in the woods
Poor babes in the woods

Nice! I really do love both of these little songs, but like I said...I associate them with feeling connected to my family rather then the crankiness and death that they seem to actually be about. Hmmm....

Word Up

So I had a discussion the other day with my BFF, Yvanka. She shared with me that she hates the word "body." It gives her the heebily-jeebilies. She had a whole story about why - which was pretty funny- but I'll let her tell it if she so chooses. In the meantime, I want to know what words make you cringe and squirm. "Cringe" and "squirm" perhaps? And....GO!

Oh....p.s. I'm grossed out by the word "sensual."**Shudder**

People....People Who Need Alone Time

I'm not a hermit or anything. I just reenergize best under conditions that lack others. This is what being introverted is truly about. I'm not particularly shy or socially awkward. What it boils down to is that I hate people. No....not you, personally...but PEOPLE.

For me, I know that it is time for this glitter paint pony to gallop on back to her personal stall when at the grocery store I get the intense urge to scream "STOP LOOKING AT ME!" and ram my fellow shoppers with my cart. Generally, people don't respond well to this.

I really enjoy spending time with my family and friends. I really enjoy my job which is mostly customer service. But then I have to go home, lock the doors, put on my jammie pants and be ALONE.

Are you picturing me in the dark, holed up in the fetal position wearing a tin foil hat? Well, stop it please. That's not a very flattering look.

Usually these moods lead me to normal, solitary activities like reading or spaz-dancing, or napping.

Cuz that's just it...people completely exhaust me. They talk and they move and they expect things. It all makes me very tired. Don't you just need those times when nobody is looking at you or wanting anything from you? Even if they ask nicely and even if you want to help them, it's still outside of yourself, and at least for me, it zaps my life's essence after awhile.

That's what I'll scream next time. "STOP ZAPPING MY LIFE'S ESSENCE!Oh..also...what aisle for tin foil?"

Funny Soup for the Soul

Hilarity.

Worst Confession Of All

I teared up last night watching a marathon of Tori and Dean: Inn Love. Their love is just SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL!! And I am hormonal.

Confessions Part Deux

5. I like to try and solve all of the world's problems while in the shower, however this becomes a distracting pasttime, as on more than one occasion I have entered the world with one shaven and one unshaven armpit. All in the name of world peace.

6. I purchase the new issue of People magazine at the grocery store every Friday knowing full well that a subscription would save me money. I have no intention of changing this behavior.

7. I skip words and sometimes say "blah blah blah watermelon whatever" during the Lord's Prayer. I only attend church for the paycheck. (Yikes, that was a pretty bad one!)

8. I spontaneously cry when others discuss their own deaths or funerals.

9. I like to dance along when watching Footloose, Flash Dance, or Center Stage, pretending that I don't look like a total spaz, but rather EXACTLY like the characters in the movie. Sometimes I even feel annoyed that they didn't cast me in the part.

Confessions

1. When I was little I was always afraid that someone was hiding behind the shower curtain. I still pull it back every time I use the restroom. Just in case.

2. Sometimes I take pictures of myself pretending to be asleep so that I can see what I look like and try to look cuter.

3. I've always loved eating Pringles with Easy Cheese. And I ALWAYS will.

4. I feel safer if I sit on the bathroom counter to brush my teeth because of all the spiders, snakes and rats I imagine hiding under the ledge by my feet.

Friends to the End.

As I'm sitting here waiting to be inspired by the blogging faerie, I have a 36 pound blob of sweet puddin' curled up next to me pretending to be a dog. I'm pretty sure she's a 3 way mixed breed of puddin', piglet, and jack russell terrier. She sits upright to protect me from invisible dangers, but fights to keep her eyes open which is just plain adorable. Her butt always has to be right against my leg.

I think I'm going to start showing my loyalty to my friends by doing the same thing. "What?! I just want to feel close to you!"

Ruthie

I was at an event last night that gave me the opportunity to have a brilliant exchange with a woman named Ruthie.

This woman is the kind of 84 that looks 64 and that you just know was movie star glamorous at 24. A complete and total kick in the pants.

The evening started with the usual greetings, compliments on outfit choices, offers of adult beverages, but requests of plain water, etc.

I quickly realized my mistake. At around the third telling of the same story (granted, to different people...but still) and a tangent into the Great Depression ("You're too young to know about that") I remedied the situation with a nice glass of wine. By glass two I was discussing colostomy bags with the best of them.

Others came and went and the evening padded along. I sat staring at the variety of dips displayed across the table and politely refused, saying "Thank you, but honestly...I'm stuffed." Ruthie's eyes widened. "If ever you go to Australia, you should NEVER say that." Playing the doe-eyed innocent, I asked "Why? What does that mean?" At first she avoided the full answer by saying "Oh...it's not good."

Knowing full well what it meant, but being made of evil and heathenism, I told her to whisper the translation in my ear.

"Well...It starts with an F and it means fucked."

Priceless.

Umm...rude.

I dreamt last night that Yvanka: Magic Queen of the Universe hot glued dozens of knick knacks to my legs (which I somehow didn't feel while sleeping) and then ripped them off like some kind of ridiculous wax job. I was really pissed. So pissed in fact that I went completely insane and roamed the streets with my ruined legs cursing her name, directly resulting in her inability to ever become an accredited spa technician. Let that be a warning to you Yvanka!

Super Sized Eww.

Okay...what the hell people?!

I was at work doing a bit of price comparison research on some items we are thinking of buying before the end of the fiscal year. When stocking up on year-long essentials of basically any kind it is natural to think one thing: Bulk Purchasing. And who is the Bulk Merchandising Queen of America? COSTCO of course.

Do you need 45 rolls of extra soft, quilted, aloe-scented toilet paper? What about an economy pack of your favorite dishwashing detergent that will last you the rest of your natural life? Hey! Over here! I found that box of 87 croissants that are sure to go stale by the time I load them into my SUV!

But wait! There's more! Didn't your uncle just die? Well, you're in luck! Just shove your cart on down to Aisle 115A (just past the giant mayonnaise and the 3 ton cans of tuna) and purchase a COSTCO Casket.

At COSTCO we know you lead a busy life. Your growing family needs that restaurant-sized box of Hamburger Helper and lifetime supply of Q-tips. But a "growing family" inevitably means a "dying family." That's why COSCTO is here to provide you with all of life....and death's necessities at a low low price. Visit our exclusive Funeral Department for styles and pricing options.

p.s. Don't forget! Spice up that downer of a wake! We do party platters!

The Decapitation of Mr. Heart

Anyone else remember the Heart Family? Fake Barbies with matchy-matcherson red velvet and white lace outfits. I loved that family. Mrs. Heart was much more elegant than Barbie. I named her Rebecca. Only a Rebecca could wear that shade of "classy lady" red lipstick and take care of her two clearly adopted children. I never approved of little Timothy's floppy baby Hugh Grant hairstyle, so as many girls my age felt compelled to do, I took matters into my own hands. This is never a good idea, as many girls my age quickly found out. Poor Timothy. You will forever be able to see all the weird hair holes in his little head.

Mr. Heart's outfit may be my favorite. Red velvet suit coat. Blue pants sewn directly into a white tank top with a permanent red skinny tie...you know...to pull the whole look together. Sexy. I loved Mr. Heart. A true family man. A sharp dresser. A perfectly coiffed head of hair. A real Carey Grant of plastic men.

One day Mr. Heart was on his way to work. The stairs of his office building (tree house in the backyard) were not up to code for someone of his particular handicap (plastic tininess syndrome), so he opted to take the elevator (empty sidewalk chalk bucket + jump rope). One minute he's singing along to the muzak version of Karma Chameleon and the next he is flying through the air, his bitty plastic life flashing before his unblinking blue painted eyes.

The paramedics (a panicked 8 year old version of myself) rushed to his side. The blood loss was suprisingly limited due to the severity of his injuries. It's kind of bad news when your head has popped off and rolled across the lawn.

Thank goodness for the All Powerful Wizard of Greatness (my dad) and his business of performing miracles (reuniting heads with bodies). Mr. Heart was whisked into the hospital (garage) where he underwent an emergency noggin' reattachment procedure. Tensions were high. Hands were wrung. Tears were shed. And then the light at the end of the tunnel arrived.

Mr. Heart was back at the office the very next day, most likely with a fairly sore neck. The remainder of the Hearts were surely relieved to have their brave poppa back in business. And I was pretty thankful for mine as well.

Yes, I Live in the NorthWest. No, I Don't Want to Go Camping.

Please note that this is not a character flaw, but simply an activity I have never enjoyed. I wish I could be that cool girl who casually pulls her hair into a ponytail, glows and glistens rather than sweats and can build a stellar campfire with ease. However, my hair is short, I really hate being unshowered and last time I checked, only I can prevent forest fires.

Don't get me wrong...I'm pretty kickass in other ways. (You'll just have to trust me on that one.)

Poetically, I love nature. Animals are tremendous in theory. But much like I am not thrilled when a spider "goes camping" in my bedroom, I can't imagine that a bear enjoys my presence either. I mean...let's just take a moment to think about how I deal with Mr. Spidey. I don't want to be smooshed with a giant square of Charmin* and flushed down a toilet. Nobody likes that.

But here is my main issue with camping:

Pooping and peeing outside. Gross! Who does that? Crazy homeless people, that's who. Like I said before, I think animals are dandy...but I have evolved past using a tree as a shitter. What if another camper walks by later and then knows specifically what my poo looks like? What if I get a bug bite or a splinter in an unfortunate zone?! What if a lizard LOOKS AT ME?!?!

Indoor plumbing is my friend. My idea of roughing it is a public restroom without a working privacy fan and a lack of paper ass protectors. Good god! Are we living in the Old West?!

Maybe this all sounds high maintenance, but it is effing 2008. I demand a locking door, a working flusher, and some grapefruit scented antibacterial soap, damn it!

I love this area of the country. I love all the Birkenstocks and the granola. I feel at home here. I want to be friends with all of you. If you need to go camping one weekend, I am happy to take that weekend and read a book indoors. We'll meet up later for something we both enjoy. Just...please don't make me go potty outside.

*favored bath tissue brand of bears