Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZEKiuo_C2s&feature=related

Another way of thinking

Yesterday I had to run home to grab a department laptop for our press secretary. I was driving at my usual "get out of my way" speed and looking at the clock every few seconds as if to will it to tick slower.

I took the back way behind the hospital to cut straight into my neighborhood, when a car pulled out in front of me. I was just slightly startled and didn't even have to tap the brakes. The car had a bright orange license plate and stickers all over the back, but I couldn't tell you what any of them said, because somehow my eyes went straight to the tiny bumper sticker that I had to squint to read. I read it three times. It hit me harder each time and has had a pretty open minded person really thinking.

"It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."
-- Mother Teresa

This one is for me and the girls

So, my mother is on this Goodwill binge where she shops their daily and calls to update my sister and I on what “great deals” she finds. I however, couldn’t even find accessories for my grease monkey mechanic Halloween costume.


Regardless…I went to Lafayette this past weekend and found myself near a Goodwill store, so I decided to go in to rummage through the records (my new hobby since I got the antique record player). With eight records in hand from Bette Mitler to UFO, I came across a purple silk Victoria’s Secret top on a manikin with TAGS ON IT…I ripped it off like I expected one of the frumpy looking shoppers to challenge me for an XXS silk cami.

I approached the counter and stumbled into a skinny mini tweener with an arm full of tops that had tags hanging off of them. As to not divert too much attention, I went to the opposite end of the isle as her and worked her way, to avoid going behind her only to find what she had already picked over. Within the 6 feet of isle I covered, I had already collected enough banana republic, Ann Taylor and BCBG to make my adrenaline start pumping. I slyly grabbed a basket and made a plan. I would start in one corner of the store and cover it entirely. I couldn’t help but think of how I have been feeling sorry for myself because “everyone else” gets to shop all of the time and I have “The Mortgage.” Well, not today.

I would leave the store with tons of tops, skirts, blazers and even a pair of J Crew classic chinos. The 300.00 St John twill Jacket with oversized buttons that I snagged, had a dry cleaning tag for 25.00 attached to the sleeve right next to the Goodwill “reduced 7.99” sticker. I am assuming that these people have no idea what they have in inventory for a slim girl with conservative taste, but I’m sure the gasp I let out when I checked out was some indication. “Your total is $129.00.”

As I handed the saleswoman most of the cash I had withdrawn from the ATM for my weekend away, I realized that complaining just slows down the time that is passing until you unexpectedly catch a break.

So, in my new outfits and "staple" tops, I just say "thank you" when they are complimented; and when someone wants in on one of my new looks, I just respond that I picked it up in "just some little shop in Lafayette."

Bungy Love

My tour of Louisiana weekend flew by. I returned home to the three neighbor kids ready to help me pick up the limbs and sticks from the yard as thier excuse to play with Dodge. The house smelt stale, the way it always does when i leave it for days. Belle was perched on top of the clean clothes that have been waiting for weeks for me to hang.

A long bath and a pair of sweats later, Bungy and I sat down for what I thought was a semi normal movie, but turned into a gorey vampire movie that i actually covered Belle's eyes during twice. Bungy wiggled and squirmed, and true to form, forced my hand to receive the most optimum attention possible. This went on for about 5 minutes, until an ear rubbing coma set in. This made me smile.

A Case of the...Thursdays?

I am drinking diet dr. pepper. i hate diet drinks.
I am choosing paint colors for my new office, but nothing matches the only wall in the department that i like...that was JUST painted, but apparently by a phantom paint swatch.
I have post it notes on top of post it notes and am only 1/3 through on most of the projects on my desk.
I need to go to the supply store, but i am too busy.
I need to eat, but the canned soup in my desk is encouragement enough for me to just skip a meal.
i just got really excited to eat a homeade macadamian nut cookie that i have been saving, the first bite made me gag. I didnt know cookies could taste so terrible.

The Louisiana Wife.....

A man married a woman from KANSAS. He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day, he came home to see a clean house and dishes washed and put away.


Another man married a woman from MICHIGAN.. He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done and there was a huge dinner on the table.



The third man married a girl from LOUISIANA . He ordered her to keep the house clean, the dishes washed, the lawn mowed, the laundry washed, and hot meals on the table for every meal. He said the first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't see anything but by the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher.

The second to last place I want to be...

I am sitting in a chair that smells of cheetos. The carpet has stains and hardened gum and the trash is overflowing with Subway bags and dirty diapers. The elevator music is almost unbearable; it has that annoying prodiminant flutist that plays a thirty minute solo that makes me Imagine I am at Morrison's or Ryans waiting for the overweight woman to finish being creative with her version of a taco salad when the buffet bins are filled to the brim with perfectly intact taco shells. The air is musty and coming out of a whistling vent on the wall that has been painted so many times you hardly notice the buried screws holding it up. A saleswoman is in the hall discussing her ploy to get free medical advice this afternoon when she drops off samples to the doctor. A woman is glaring at me with a "how dare you" or "you are too old to wear that" as she gives my polo dress the once over. I probably would glare at me too if I was at the end of my third trimester and wearing an entire bolt of fabric. Her husband looks happy, which I'm crediting to the cute young nurse just referred to his wife as "the patient" and him as "daddy." This is what I am surrounded by as I wait for my named to be called, already thirty minutes after my appoinent time, so I can head back to one of the too cold rooms with too rough paper sheets and gowns for an all too familiar procedure. This moment may fall right under my twelve hour Monday, but just above my four hour class tonight on my "shitty ways to start a week" scale.

The Perfect Man

Miss Shreveport: passing down the crown

Girls Gone...Fishing

A story is not needed-for this trip-quotes will suffice.

Christina: "Hand me the trout, I'll size him."
Chloe: "Okay, just make sure you measure it from the 1 and not the zero."

Lauren (opening the live well): "OH SHIT! The shrimp are ALIVE!!!"

Chloe: "The boat hurts my boobs!"

Christina: "No, I'm good we have snacks, beer and beef and cheese."
-four minutes down the road-"I want McDonalds fries!" (Truck U turns on Highway)

Lauren: "Can I have one more Peanut Butter and Jelly Uncrustable please?"

At this point, Christina is drunk, Chloe is hyper and Lauren is snoring. All signs of a perfect day.

The Saturday from Hell

We painted and tiled the addition to my house, set up a garage sale, hung 100 signs and made a 1,000 bucks in 24 hours...all while consuming 5 cases of beer and a fifth of crown. Now that friends...is talent.

Not much has changed

Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”

When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.

I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.

Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.

The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.

Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.

My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.

In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.

Just the highlights

Countless people, well, I guess I could count them…have asked why I have not been writing. Well, I have been writing. Just nothing anyone would want to read. However, to everyone’s relief, after turning in a far too long paper on the problems associated with health care and my half ass answer for them..I am officially back.
So, what anyone concerned enough to read this is wondering…friend, foe or stalker-here is what’s new.

Surgery last Monday went well. Just like those “sent from mom” Tupperware containers in your freezer that you’re not “quite” sure about; my cervix was frozen, defrosted, frozen and thawed during the most painful procedure that I have had yet. I am most proud that I didn’t cry. I did however have 3 pain pills, a klonopin and the remainder of my week-old fingernails. I spent 3 days on my sofa/chaise bed I created in the living room watching 52 inches of estrogen filled movies with my girlfriends eating every comfort food available complete with sundaes, beef and cheese and lucky charms. What the pain pills and heating pad couldn’t handle, the Michelob and Crown did. On a positive note, I have felt what childbirth contractions feel like, actually experience my uterus contracting…and I am convinced that my pain threshold had stretched further than ever before and I could feasibly deliver a child with no epidural. On the same note, there is no way in hell I plan to.

My classes are taking a little more of my “free” time than I expected and I have had projects, papers and homework so I am feeling teen-ish again.

Bungy may or may not be a girl. I am crushed. I have googled, youtubed and even bought a book with a “how to sex a rabbit” chapter and I still cannot tell. When they say it is tricky-they are not exaggerating. I am taking her/him…it to the vet on the 28th for a checkup, aging test so I know when to spay/neuter the poor baby, and finally find out if I should be buying pearls or argyle sweaters for Christmas.

Work is not worth writing about. I apparently am taking on some new projects but I’m not sure of any details and have no concrete idea of what I will actually be doing. So I am not going to speculate just to clarify later.

I am animal sitting this weekend-One dog, one cat, a saltwater aquarium, a fresh water aquarium, two doves and a goldfish pond. I initially thought to myself that how ridiculous it is for one person to have such an extensive petting zoo and then I realized this guy only has two more exhibits than I do. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to find me knitting on the front porch before Halloween…I’m just saying.

I plan a girl’s blowout every Halloween, parties and costumes but this year, I want to sit at home and pass out candy to the little hellions in the neighborhood. I’m feeling old.

The wing of the airplane on my Tiffany’s bracelet is bent and that pisses me off. How can you charge hundreds for tiny charms that bend and break? On second thought, obsessed women as myself are how they charge that much-scratch the “pisses me off.”

I saw Sorority Row last night, save your money, time and energy required to see this movie. I can never get that hour and fifteen minutes back.

I am buying a powerball ticket today. I don’t know how to, where to go or even how much they are, but I am willing to learn for a chance at 120 million dollars.

Finally, I would like to hit pause on life for a few days. If someone has that figured out-sell me the secret.

It's A Girl!

I walked into the pet store for a few new saltwater fish for my tank at work and somehow found myself asking about the feeding and life expectancy of the little bunny I was holding in my arms. I have NEVER wanted a bunny, but I hate cats too and Belle is the love of my life. Somewhere between the tortoise boxes and the hamster cages, my biological clock decided for me that I didn’t just want this little bunny, but I NEEDED it.

So there I was in my usual form, reaching for toys and bowls and the best of the best vitamins thinking at the checkout which pet store I could go to next.

I went to three pet stores that afternoon and got Bungy everything that she could ever want along with numerous accessories that are held conveniently in her little pink purse with pearl strung handle.

I wonder if my pets know that they won the Lottery of owners

Bungy's First Bath

This was a pretty monumental occurance. Now she smells like Rosemary mint...and love.

Nothing taste as good as looking HOT feels

I am not a fan of fad diets or wasting my time reading books about what foods I should eat to live longer. I am a fairly healthy person, but I do have a hidden love affair with bar food. There is nothing like a plate of nachos at 2 am. However, in an effort to grab the proverbial reins of my life, I have decided to try some new things.

I just started Isagenix. I ordered the box months ago and it never made it farther than the trunk of my car. I finally decided to open it yesterday and inside I found some pretty intense and very intimidating information. The first step is to measure all of your body parts and add up your “total inches.” My total inches are 283.75; however, I’m sure without my Victoria’s Secret push up, I would have a significantly lower total.

So I had two days of “pre-cleansing” where I had a sensible meal and snack and two shakes. The Vanilla shake taste more like a stale cinnamon roll and the wild berry cleaning drink taste exactly like watered down robitussin. BUT, to my excitement, a bottle of “snacks” were included. I unscrewed the cap and ripped out the cotton to find white wafers that look like industrial strength Tums. They smelled like cake icing so I went for a little cheat of a nibble. To my dismay, they were probably the worst product in the box coming in just past the “natural accelerator” supplement pills that taste like my pee smells after I have too much asparagus. It’s wonderful.

So, I am 2 pounds down in one day…I am trying to continue to cautiously embrace this Cleansing, but really…all this may do is make me hate life.

Ps, I am going to the LSU game AND the Saints game this weekend. Great fun you would think right? I did too until I read the tiny little green “success tip” box which read “Cleanse days are a good time to reduce and eliminate any caffeine, alcohol and/sugar consumption.” Really? This is day 2 of a 9 day process.

My apologies if you are unfortunate enough to encounter my harsh mood if I continue on this borderline starvation plan.

Maw Maw and Paw Paw-outside of Mississippi...that means "grandparents"

Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”

When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.

I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.

Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.

The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.

Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.

My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.

In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.

An ommission of the truth...is a lie.

Is it because they love me? Is it because I’m tough, weak…or intimidating? Lately the scales have fallen from my eyes, the wool is at my feet and I can see a little clearer.

I am easy to lie to.

I pride myself in my intuition and it takes a great deal of “follow through” for me to really trust someone. Yet lately I have found myself surrounded by little white lies.

I’ll never do it again. I will help you. I will call. We are just friends. I was just working. I forgot. I am listening. I do care; I just didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. I never meant to hurt you. I am done sowing my wild oats. I will pay you back soon. Rent…is it the first? Just call, sure I’m down for whatever. I would love to have a girl’s night out. I was asleep. You are over qualified and should find something else. I didn’t drive drunk-he did. No, I’m really happy. It was only because I was working. Everything will be fine. I will start to communicate. That dress looks great on you, don’t change. We will bring the family and come visit. I will never lie to you again.

I am surrounded with people who love me. Overwhelmed with requests to hang out, have lunch, just talk…and yet I still hang on to the ones that hurt me.

Really? Unfortunately my filter has worn down and I can take it no longer. I cannot physically handle one more lie whether it be “white,” accidental or blatant. Today was the last time that I will allow myself to be lied to.

Remember "I" before "E," except in Budweiser.

Reflective thoughts from many men much smarter than I...

BEER THEORIES-How can anyone possibly argue with such logic.

Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, "It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver." -Babe Ruth

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." -Lyndon B. Johnson

"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." -Paul Horning

"24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not." -H. L. Mencken

"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!" -George Bernard Shaw

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benjamin Franklin

"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." -Dave Barry

BEER: HELPING UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX SINCE 3000 B.C.! -W. C. Fields -Professor Irwin Corey

To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group Salvation in a can! -Leo Durocher

One night at Cheers, Cliff Clavin explained the" Buffalo Theory" to his buddy Norm:

"Well, ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members! In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

...And it makes your singing voice sound better, too.

Two Ants dancing on a blade of grass

Today I added Grumps to the tank. He is a pretty active little hermit crab who has been filtering the sand like he is on speed. I ate half of a pint of Blackberries, an oatmeal cream pie and drank two cokes after my six inch sub...and I'm wondering why I have gained weight-shocker.

Today has been laughably mundane. I delivered mail, ordered supplies, looked over the office budget, and entered time. The excitement was only interrupted once by my trip back to the Dr.’s office where I sat for over an hour waiting for my appointment. This time, it was NOT my fault. They called my name at 12:15-my appointment was at 11:30. To the dreaded scale…no change since Monday, not even an ounce.

I sat in the tiny exam room on the crisp paper and stared at the stacks of latex gloves that could so easily be my demise. I glanced at “Phoebe,” my new fever blister and almost gagged at how gross it looks. I have not had one in 9 months, but something about huge, stressful changes and lack of sleep just brings them out. I glanced down at my super white knees peeping out from my Polo dress and wished I had had the extra five minutes to slather on some Jergens Express tanning lotion-but I willingly accepted mediocrity today. Escada and Versace couldn’t make me feel cute on a day with a fever blister.

My Dr. strolled in like she was an hour early rather than late and invited me to the more comfortable room across the hall-this is never “good” news. She sighs as she sits and I immediately break a sweat and remember how great of a deal I got on deodorant at Albertson’s ten for $10 sale. As she asked question after question that amounted to nothing I quickly saw that there was a bomb brewing just as soon as this fuse burned down. And then she came out with it. She gave me diagnosis in a way that made me imagine her in front of her bathroom mirror repeating her tactful soliloquy until she had each perfected and ready to place neatly in her mental file.

As she pressed on, she dug deeper into me with questions that left me more than vulnerable. I humbly answered all of her questions, while simultaneously wondering what problems she had dealt with to bring her to a profession that would force her to deal with everyone else’s. You have to wonder who reciprocates on her behalf; who hacks away at her emotions and helps her embrace positive thinking? I glanced at her rather impressive emerald cut diamond and imagined tiny ice skaters circling atop and being charged admission.

I left relieved and yet questioning, but loved how communicative she was and allowed me to be. I stepped outside and the cool air reminded me of James Taylor-September Grass. I can’t wait for football.