I'll be in London for the next HNT so I guess this can tide those shoe-fetishists over until I return but CAN YOU BELIEVE THE HEAT EMINATING FROM THESE?!?!? Oh, Bloomingdales. These "Leopard" Steven by Steve Madden heels were originally $159 and I lusted after them each time I saw them, saddened that they were not in my price range. Yesterday, however, I exchanged some snow boots I got from my folks for these bad boys. They were marked down to $70. Shut. Your. Mouth. I was literally sweating knowing they were in my shopping bag. Sigh.

2 Movies in 2 Days

Last night I took in a showing of Dreamgirls with Hetero Life Partner. There is something about musical theater and musicals in general that I just love. I know a lot of people just can't get into the idea of characters randomly breaking into song and I agree with them - it either works very well, as it does in this film, or it fails horribly, as it did for me in Rent. You know a movie is phenomenal when the theater audience bursts into applause multiple times during the viewing and then again as the credits roll. Jennifer Hudson's powerful voice blows Beyonce's out of the water and her solo "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" literally brought tears to my eyes. That's not to diminish Beyonce's role, however. I doubt I've ever seen anyone more beautiful than she is in this movie and her vocal range is quite impressive. The camera simply loves her and she comes across like a Barbie doll come to life. The costumes and scenery are great, the cast is amazing and the soundtrack is purchase-worthy. Not only that, but the story itself is well told and interesting. I clearly recommend this one... though I'm still not entirely sure why Beyonce gets top billing and all of the posters and publicity while Jennifer Hudson unfairly continues to "sing back up." She's truly the star of Dreamgirls.


One Thumb Up, One Down

I dragged Eli to see Night at the Museum yesterday afternoon because I got off work early and have LOTS of gift certificate money from Christmas to spend at the movies. My emotions are mixed on this one. I really enjoyed it but I think most of that has to do with the fact that Museum is filmed in New York, one of my favorite places in the world. The special effects are really wonderful and if I were a wee one I would be awfully entertained. However, I'm not a wee one and I'm quite jaded. Both Eli and I agreed that there was a bit too much going on in this movie. There's the father/son dilemma, the ex-wife/new fiance dilemma, the unrequited love interest aspect, a bit of a caper with some unsuspecting bad guys and the Sacagawea/Curator storyline. I don't expect you to follow but then again, I don't think the makers of Museum did either. Don't get me wrong, I laughed and I really had fun watching this movie but most of it is visual stimulation. The storyline really suffers due to poor editing making the flow awkward. Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson are always a hoot but in an old friend sort of way... you know what they're capable of but something is missing because their more adult humor is stifled in this children's movie. It's a feel good holiday flick, though. There's no denying that. It's just too bad Charlie Murphy's role was merely seconds long. Museum is a tad bit longer than it needs to be but take the kiddies. I think they'll love it and it's mature enough that grown ups won't suffer through it.


Last Haiku Friday of the Year

Two thousand seven
It's right around the corner
Bye, two-oh-oh-six
Champagne bottles will be popped
Kiss the one you're with
Diets to get on
Resolutions to be made
Fresh starts all around


El Mas Chingon

Because it's slow here at the workplace (Seriously? The week twixt Christmas and New Year's should be required time off!) you get two (two!) posts for the price of one today. How lucky do you feel right now? Good! You should! Anyhoo, a while back my folks bid on a George Lopez show at the Universal Gibson Amphitheater at the Boys and Girls Club charity auction and last night was the night of the show. We had backstage passes and thought that we'd be going for a meet and greet but that was a farce and it was basically just free food and beverages and no potty lines. Whatevs. I haven't the slightest idea what I would have said to G-Lo had I met him anyway. You're funny? Yeah... So there were four whities (a.k.a. my mom, dad, brother and myself) and two Mexicans (sister-in-law and my guest) in our party. My brother and I can practically be considered honorary Mexicans because we've never dated other white people really and we both speak Spanish and... well, we're from Oxnard. My folks, on the other hand, are white. Sheet white. Snow white. Like, from Maine and North Dakota white. They've never really seen G-Lo but he basically shreds on the honkies all night. And last night Mr. Lopez was high on the pulpit about illegal immigration and said some politically charged not-so-nice things about the Governator and ungrateful white people to his sold-out crowd that was 95% Latino. Needless to say, my mom left quite offended but that's her shit for having no sense of humor. What was "not-so-fun" about last night were the fucktards behind us. I swear to Jesus I hate when people go "Whooooooooo" every time there is an ounce of silence in the amphitheater or try to make sure the act absolutely hears their laughter over everyone else in the audience. Christ Almighty. Not only that but they were wasted, like stinky wasted, and one of the bitches dropped her purse under my mom's seat and proceeded to slam into her repeatedly for several minutes while trying to retrieve it. Because God forbid we wait until the end of the show when the lights are on. Bastards. Then, the other bitch gets up and thinks clapping with a cocktail in her hand is appropriate behavior. Well it's not and I had a wet sweater to prove it. When I told her she was spilling on me she drunkenly replied, "That's ok." Um... no. It's not. To quote Ren, "Eeeeeeeediots." And don't even get me started on the cell phone usage during the show. Some people really ruin it for everyone and they generally sit right behind me. That's my luck I guess! Either way, if you get a chance, I highly recommend George Lopez. He's one funny man. This was my second time and I laughed just as hard, if not harder, as I did the first time.

Best of 2006 HNT

Per Os's instruction we were to pick our favorite HNT of the last year. On January 19th I posted this picture. It became my signature profile shot, I suppose you could say, so you can imagine why this one is the fav. Hopefully I can take another one that trumps this in 2007. Happy Half-Nekked New Year and thanks for the mammaries!


End of the Year Hump

Are Wednesdays really going to be dedicated to my 90-day celibacy vow? There's a good chance. Luckily for you, it's only until March 3rd and then my time is up. Miss Kitty asked what happens when I reach 3/3 and the only response I could muster was, "Maybe someone will want to make out with me?" I think she might have taken that as a proposition. We shall see...
I actually made it to the gym last night after work and I know I've said this before but dang does it feel good to get back. I'm surprised they let me in the door after all this time but they did. I had expected every treadmill to be occupied due to post-holiday guilt but I was quite mistaken. The gym looked like a ghost town. Which is fine by me because it meant less people were able to bear witness of me using the treadmill as my own personal disco catwalk. Sometimes my dorkiness embarrasses even me.
Can you all believe it's the hump day already? And that the new year is just around the corner? Time for resolutions. Mine are going to be HUGE because 2007 means I turn 30. I'm sure I'll do a post on that but it just hit me that this is the last week of the year. Holy cow.
Tonight it's the George Lopez comedy show at the Universal Gibson Amphitheater with the family. Good times. Sorry for the erratic post but at least it's something!


There's Got To Be A Morning After

Christmas was a success. Everyone was spoiled as usual but no one more than Ethan. By the time my brother loaded his truck with presents it looked like they'd just left a toy store shopping spree. The back of the SUV was completely filled from top to bottom. It was awesome. Ethan loved his Elmo T.M.X. as well as the Hokey Pokey Elmo that the great-grandparents bought him. He even looked like Elmo, too, in his red Christmas jamamas. We had a mini disaster in the morning when the circuit breaker of our home decided to go kaput and left us without power for hours. Mom was convinced Christmas breakfast was ruined but my brother has connections thanks to his job in construction and was able to call his electrician buddy over to save the day. Breakfast ended up being brunch but no one seemed to mind. We threw the roast on the BBQ so it was all good. I ate so much that I ended up with a migraine and sicksicksick to my stomach. What a way to end the holiday. I was in bed at 8:30 p.m. No joke.
My favo gift was a brand new digital camera that has all the capabilities of a 35mm. One of those cameras with a fancy lens you get to turn around manually to focus. I can't wait to figure that thing out. I'll probably end up taking a digital photography class this summer at the community college. My brother wants me to master it so I can take portraits of Ethan and he can say, "My sister took that." Sometimes he's so nice I want to cry. Haha. Must be the Christmas spirit lingering on a bit. Hope you all had happy holidays. It's back to work for me today. I bet you're jealous.


Stop It. I'm Dying.

This is staying on the top 'til the 25th. See new posts below. My nephew? Killing me. Why is he topless?!?! He's all chins and tits. LOL! Man. Merry Christmas.


Best Auntie

Dude, you guys. I found a Elmo T.M.X. for Ethan. Because a 2 month old totally buys into the hype. Haha. It was a bootleg exchange but I take what I can get. At least there was no back alley involved. Who has the most spoiled nephew ever? Oh... I think I do.


The Haiku Friday Before Christmas

Three more days away
Presents wrapped under the tree
Some baking to do
Uncle is in town
Crusty arrived late last night
Visiting to do
Hooray for Christmas
Have yourself a merry one
Eggnog and cookies


My Holiday Wishes For You

Sorry, lurkers. Not you. Just the peeps on my "blog roll" (in the same order here as they are on the right)... a bit of a variation from what Os asked for but c'est la vie:
Darkness: A record deal for Nonetheless so generous as to afford you a lifetime supply of Tang and bacon.
Laurie: A pirate ship to sail in your new pool from which you could force the victims of your shank to walk the plank.
April: A realistic looking prosthetic like Paul McCartney's soon-to-be-ex wife's so you can wear open toe shoes again. Or that menage a trois I was talking to you about... Your call.
CP: A revival of your crutch-shot on that 25 peeps page. Not "crotch" shot, people. Minds out of the gutter. Or, you know, the world domination you're so suited for.
BFF: The completion of your paper, never-ending consumption of M.I.L.'s Christmas snackies without any weight gain and undisturbed R&R.
Rachel: A distinguished gentleman carrying flowers and a bottle of bubbly waiting for you in a limo just like in Pretty Woman to whisk you off for the date of your life.
Cute Overload Animals: Treats and woobies for you to play with!
Exile: One of those things like in Star Trek where you can "beam" from place to place in a snap so it would be easier for you to see Hella.
Buzz: A job in the 805!
The Ladies @ GFY: A never-ending parade of tacky dressers and an end to leggings.
HDW: A cruise that will erase only the bad memories of the one you took with Fyrchk.
Shora: A delicious bottle of my favorite Wild Horse Chardonnay... to be shared over a chat with me, of course!
Y: A refurbished kitchen so you needn't be ashamed even though it's really not that bad and people wouldn't take their eyes off G-Unit anyway.
Trucker: For all of your "fantasies" to come to life!
Hella: See Exile's wish above and reverse.
Fyrchk: A gang-bang by the hot firemen in the e-mail I sent you. But in a nice way!
Itchy: All the cute graphic tees you've ever searched for only in a perfect fit EVERY time because you're never to old to wear those. Never.
Crusty: Your PhD already so you can move back to Cali where it is warm and the ocean and Santa Barbara are only a stone's throw away.
Trent: For the celebs to continue acting like fools so you never run out of blog fodder.
The Senders-in at Post Secret: The comforting knowledge that you're not alone.
Rhys: A lifetime membership to Netflix so you can keep me posted on what movies I need to see.
Sassy: Your very first tattoo or that you can find our you're preggers just like Mary did 9 months and 2006 years ago. Sorry, Mr. Sass! It's immaculate all the way!
Macca: A naughty little minx in a nurse's outfit and white stiletto heels to do your bidding.
JJ & The Boys: For The Codes to get a record deal and for people to continue doing vulgar and strange shit so you can keep providing the commentary that tickles me so.
The Men, The Myths, The Legends: A lighter/easier course load so that you can be able to write more rants for me more often.
Dirk: For a book deal to put you on the top of the New York Times Best Seller list thus establishing a healthy boost to the ol' self-esteem thus leading you to the love you long for.

And Maine, though you blog no more, I wish you lots of bacon and Billy Corgan. Beetle, I hope you take 'em to town with the fantasy football that took you away from Stonecutters 2.0. Ok, lurkers, you win. I wish you all a very happy holiday whether it be celebrating the birth of baby Jesus, some miraculously long-burning oil lamps, Kwanzaa or simply giving mad props to Satan for a job well done on humanity as a whole these days. So... what do you wish me?
Speak up, lurkers! I can't hear you!


The Perfect Gift

No Humpin' For 90 Days

Paris Hilton's declaration that sex is sacred and advertisement of her alleged celibacy got me thinking. My streak of bad luck with men is no joking matter, perhaps this is something I, too, should consider. My friend Miss Kitty is a big fan of Rachel Ray and on her talk show apparently she challenged single women everywhere that are looking for Mr. Right to scrap the looking and go 90 days without. For 90 days, just make yourself happy and do things for you and forget all together about finding a man. Shut the cookie down, so to speak. I think Miss Ray (and ok, Paris) might be on to something so I'm on day 16 of 90 and so far so good. I probably should have started counting on Monday since that's when I cut the cord on quasi-beau but I'm just going from the last time I got some play. TMI? Maybe. But no one's forcing you to read this. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
However, keeping men away doesn't seem like it'll be too much of a problem. In a matter of a month I have managed to gain back almost all of the weight I lost on Weight Watchers for that July wedding. I'd been doing really well since about April but now? No dice. There is no denying it when the 10s start showing the belly overlap and the 12s are looking sharp. I'm not going to delude myself and claim to diet during Christmas, mind you. I'm sitting here sipping on a gingerbread latte from Starbucks as I type this so let's not be silly. After Christmas though? Yeah. It's on like Donkey Kong. Me and the gym in a fight to the death. No more goodies. Blech.
And finally - Calgary Flames 5, Kings 3. Went to the game last night with my brother, the mother of my nephew (ha!) and Eli. Getting the latter 2 out of the house is no small feat so a round of applause goes to the Leos. They have the same birthday. Never mind. Sometimes I wonder if battling the traffic on a weeknight is worth it just to watch the Kings lose. Sonofabitch.
And on that note - 4 more shopping days, people. No joke. Get off your keisters and get your shit done. Happy Hump Day.



So I think I've mentioned before that I'm a freak magnet and it got me thinking about my one of my very first experiences in freakdom. His name was James. When I was a wee girl and would go grocery shopping with my mom he used to bag our groceries. His looks were parallel to Brad Pitt with his chiseled features, blonde hair and hazel eyes. He was a looker, I tell you. I used to anticipate the trips to Lucky's. Haha. That's how long ago that was. Lucky's is now Albertson's and I now hate the market. Anyhow, I digress. James would always smile at me at the end of the check stand and once I even gave him a flower I had picked on the way into the grocery store. Puppy love? It didn't have anything on what I had with James.
Years later James left Lucky's for the local Texaco station. By that time I was driving and my mom wasn't around to cock block. There was flirtation once again between me and James. Once, after I was done filling my tank, I proceeded to drive off when James sort of threw himself behind the car and flagged me down to stop me. I assumed I'd left the cap off but no. James wanted my phone number. I was on cloud 9, people. A girl of 17 (?), I was ready for my first love affair.
After many a phone call, James decided it was time for us to go on a date. One rainy day he picked me up from my house in a grandpa-style car that, to me, was the epitome of cool. I was so nervous. We lit up a joint and drove down to Main Street and I had no idea where we were going. It turns out, we were going to the Army Surplus store. Apparently, James collected weapons of all sorts as well as gear to make his own bomb shelter. My handsome pin up of a date was really a freak in fear of the apocalypse. For all I knew, he was in a sect of a cult. My vision of him was shattered.
Naturally, I cooled it off with James. It didn't stop him from telling me he loved me and wanted me to be his wife and we could go off and live in the woods in safety happily ever after. Oh, James. Honey. No. And so began my never ending experiences of being deceived by good looks only to find weirdos in hot-guy clothing.


Ohmygod I'm Sooo Britney!

I totally dumped quasi-beau via text message yesterday just like Brit Brit allegedly dumped Fed-Ex. Enough was enough. We haven't seen each other since the drunken Christmas party incident though he has consistently been calling me since then. Mostly it's like we're GPSing each other's locations. "Hey, I'm at the bar." "Right on I'm at home." "OK, talk to you later?" "OK." And scene. For days and days on end. The clincher was a text message he sent me in the dark hours of Saturday morning that read "You sleep?" Um, obviously. No, Dummy. I'm up doing jumping jacks at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday. Shit for brains. Anyway we'd done the GPS thing again last night and he said he'd call me back. I responded with a text message of my own that went a little like this:
"You don't have to call me back. I can tell you could give two shits about me anyway so have a great xmas and new year without me. Peace."
He wrote back "You have a good one too. Peace."
WTF? God he's an idiot. Goodbye and good riddance.
And so begins step one of my game plan of a few posts below. Today there is even a gym bag in my trunk. Dear Lord. This is really happening isn't it?


The Pursuit of Sappyness

Of all the movies I could have seen today, I'm glad I went to this one. I'm not sure any other would or could have had the same effect. Right now I'm in a bit of a funk that I'm sure has a lot to do with my incessant worry over turning thirty and not being where I thought I'd be in my life at this point but probably even more to do with it being that time of year. The holidays bring out the best in us don't they? So do the cliche "feel good" movies of the season. Will Smith has proven himself to be quite the movie star but something about his cockiness turned me off to him as an actor. I definitely wasn't in line to see Bad Boys II if you know what I'm saying. In this role as a down on his luck man whose life is the very definition of Murphy's Law, Smith's performance tugged my heart strings to the point where I left the theater with nary a trace of the eye make-up I went in with left on my face. His real life son, Jaden, plays his son on screen and actually put in a performance that didn't leave me cringing like many of the child actors of today often do. In the story, everything from abandonment to homelessness falls on the duo and in the end, obviously, they triumph. But literally not until the last few seconds of the movie. And I doubt that qualifies as a spoiler because everyone saw that coming.
I left Happyness with a completely different outlook on my current situation. Yes, things could be better but at least I'm not sleeping on the floor of a dirty public restroom and have more than $21 in my checking account. Sure, I don't have kids but I also don't have kids I can't afford or care for in the way I'd like to ideally. I don't currently have a sig other but I also don't have anyone abandoning me when my chips are down. Ultimately, as the movie discusses in one of its ever-so-sappy voice overs, happiness isn't guaranteed. All we can do is pursue it. Some of us might spend our lives doing just that. Pursuing it. So right now, I think that's what I will do. Pursue my own happiness and stop relying on others to make me happy. Boy, do I love a good movie.

Gaffled From "That's Incredicrap!"

Myspace is a breeding ground for this sort of shit but I stole this one from Macca. I did him now he has to do me. Ok, sportsfans, it's time for you to do the footwork and do a meme for me rather than me do a meme for you. Memememe. I hope Blogger lets you comment now. I heard there's been some problems. I miss your words of wisdom.

1.Your Name:
2. Age:
3. Single or Taken:
4. Favorite Movie:
5. Favorite Song:
6. Favorite Band/Artist:
7. Dirty or Clean:
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings:

1. Do we know each other outside of the blogosphere?:
2. Whats your philosophy on life?:
3. Would you have my back in a fight?:
4. Whats one thing you always wanted to tell me?:
5. What is your favorite memory of us?:
6. Would you give me a kidney?:
7. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
8. Have you ever had a fantasy about me?:
9. Do you have a picture of the two of us?:
10. How did we meet?:
11. Have you ever been to my house?:
12. Do you think I'm a good person?:
13. Would you drive across country with me?:
14. Do you think I'm attractive?:
15. If you could change anything about me, would you?:
16. What do you wear to sleep?:
17. Would you come over for no reason just to hang out?:
18. Would you go on a date with me if i asked you?:
19. When is the next time we will see each other?:
20. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?:


Early To Rise Haiku Friday

My very first Bar
Mitzvah tomorrow morning
Hebrew refresher
Weekend full of plans
Playing catch-up with girlfriends
And of course family
I'll be a student
Until I'm 40-years old
That's my conclusion


Press Release

Dear Friends, Family and Bloggers I correspond with via e-mail,
It has been brought to my attention by a couple of very close pals (who shall go unnamed) that I've been doing a little bit too much complaining of late so I want to extend a heartfelt apology to anyone who has been on the receiving end of my bitching. It's true, this semester was rough and the quasi-beau really put me through the ringer but really? Things are pretty good and I should definitely be looking on the bright side of life. The other day my mother found a lump in her breast and was worried it was cancer but it's not. See? Things like that should make me super happy and ecstatic. I think sometimes I exert too much energy focusing on the negative and forget to be thankful. And I'm grateful that my friends are comfortable enough to tell me that I'm a whiner because that way I can fix it. Step 1? Ditch quasi-beau for good because I deserve better and he brings me more irritation than pleasure. Step 2? Celebrate the fact that the last semester is under my belt. Step 3? Get my lazy behind back to the gym and put the energy I've used to complain towards tightening this jiggly rear end of mine.
It's time to enjoy the Christmas season by appreciating decorations and singing along to Christmas carols (even though they'd be better if BFF was singing them the way she does whilst shopping on 5th Avenue. Sigh.). Crusty will be here one week from today. My favorite (and only) uncle and his beau will be down from San Francisco for Christmas. I got 3 more gifts last night so the shopping is nearly done. I'll be making traditional pizzelles with Gran and my mom on Friday night and all will be right in the world.
So here's to new beginnings and less complaining. Thank you to everyone that ended up being a receptacle for my verbal garbage. My bad.

My Decorations

Two stockings for one me? Hardly seems right.
When I was a wee girl my mom made these
Wizard of Oz ornaments by hand - my favorites.
After an 8-hour work day, a final exam and an hour of Christmas shopping, I was too pooped to get all glamorous for an HNT but I thought I'd honor Os's request and put up a pic of my tree anyway. Well, a tiny tree and my loft support pole decorated like a wannabe tree but at least the spirit's there. Most of my ornaments are cartoony and that suits this kid trapped in a grown-up's body just fine. Happy holidays. Only 10 more shopping days...


Insert Rant Here

Sonofabitch. I just went to the post office where the line is a mile long. I'm returning some pretty hiddy shoes I bought from a catalogue so the postage is pre-paid. I literally just have to drop the box off. When I hand the mail man my package he tells me he can't take it because it's taped with scotch tape and not packaging tape. WTF?!?! Tape is tape! When I tell him that I don't have packaging tape on me he proceeds to tell me I can stand in the never ending line and purchase their tape. I think not! What kind of racket are they running over there? Stupid dummies.
I can understand the term "going postal" now. Grrr.
Happy Effing Holidays indeed.

RIP Peter Boyle

I saw him once in a movie theater in Los Angeles. Young Frankenstein? Classic. His character on the oft-dissed yet pretty hilarious Everybody Loves Raymond is basically my Grandpa. So sad.

Humpin' The Season

Lots of stuff going on this week so I'm sure glad it's the hump day. Does that mean it's all downhill from here? Points to ponder:

  • Tonight is the last Chicano class. I have all my work done and ready to turn in though its quality is mediocre at best. We're supposed to do a pot luck but I have nothing to offer.
  • Went to the mall last night. Got about 50% of my shopping done in a matter of 2.5 hours. Learned I'd much rather shop for myself and that I stress the eff out trying to find the "perfect gift" when in reality a sweater would probably suffice.
  • It's been over a week since the last time I saw quasi-beau and it's beginning to look like that's the way it's going to stay. When I see more of my ex than my current eff-buddy that's a bad sign.
  • Nephew has a cold. Poor little monkey.
  • Why is it that when I finally decide to by UGG boots they are sold out across the nation?
  • I'm organizing my company's first pot luck. Ever. What's Christmas without a pot luck at work? And what should I bring?
  • When is too young to get a baby's ears pierced? A wee little infant was getting hers done at the mall last night and she was screaming bloody murder and it made me sad like a dinosuar.

And, as Crusty always says, that's all the news that's fit to print. Hope you all have a happy hump day.



So today is the twelfth. Twelve more days to do your Christmas shopping. Twelve also is the day I was born so whenever I see it on the calendar I squeal with glee and count the months until I can have cake and presents. For some reason, I wasn't really doing any sort of celebratory dance whilst in my panties this morning. In five months, I will be thirty. That is all.
Last night we had a group presentation to do for my Individuals with Disabilities class (which I crudely call "The Retard Class"). On Friday I was supposed to meet with 1/3 of my group but she couldn't make it and wanted to reschedule for Sunday. Fine. On Saturday the other 1/3 wanted to meet but I ran out of hours in the day after decorating and cleaning and basically living my life so we couldn't meet. At least she emailed me her info so I could make slides for our PowerPoint presentation. Sunday rolls around and I never hear from the first 1/3 and when I try her cell it is out of service. Monday morning she emails me and says she's sorry but she would finish up everything on her end and get the slides to me. Never happened. Not only that, bitch never even showed up for class. Our presentation was pretty much incomplete but I don't think the prof will hold it against us. My question is, how does my classmate eff us in the A and sleep at night? So rude. And why give up on your grade ON THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL? At least show up. Dang.
The Waitresses sing a song called Christmas Wrapping and I love it. Every time I hear it I dance like an ass and sing along with a lispy sort of sound that resembles a gas leak. Emulating the stereotype of an uber-gay I guess you could say. Good times. I've done no shopping. None. I'm waiting for my anxiety attack any minute now.



  • Can anyone tell my why my sexy CFM avatar isn't showing up when I post comments on the blogs of other people?
  • Got the nephew to smile and do some sort of coo-laugh over the weekend. I felt triumphant.
  • This is finals week for me. 1 project down, 1 to go and then bye-bye semester.
  • I don't like drunk people when I am not drunk. All the uncontrollable eye rolling and word slurring - no good.
  • Brought my camera to the Parade of Lights at the Channel Islands Harbor. Said camera did not have its battery inserted, therefore you get to see none of the Christmas-y decorated boats.
  • It rained all weekend.
  • The word "alpaca" when said with a lazy Spanish accent is sure to get you some laughs
  • Miss Kitty and I were serenaded by an acoustic guitar player on Saturday night. He sang "Black" by Pearl Jam and we may or may not have orgasmed.
  • Finally looks like St. Nick booted in my apartment. Pictures to follow (and I know you're on the edge of your seat).


Go see this movie. Put aside your thoughts about Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic remarks and just remember what the man can do with material like Braveheart. Believe me, I had qualms at first about giving my seven bucks to Mel but in the end it was more than worth it. This movie proves that you don't need beauties like Brad Pitt or Nicole Kidman to make a great film. There isn't a single "known" actor but I was enraptured by what was on the screen. The costumes were unlike anything I've ever seen before. The dialect wasn't overwhelming and the subtitles were easy to follow. I can honestly say I wept openly for the majority of the first half of the movie while I watched a tiny village get ravaged - babies torn from their mothers, wives torn from their husbands and utter destruction. Very hard to watch considering this actually happens in the present day world. But there was also a great love story woven in as well as quite a few humorous scenes. Nothing was too over the top aside from a mass burial site that we wondered if it could possibly have happened considering the low birth and survival rate of a tribe living in a jungle at that time but that's besides the point. The special effects were very realistic. Apocalypto was beautifully done and very moving. You could tell Mel Gibson put his heart into it. And it made me want to see Passion of the Christ so that's really saying something and that something is go see this movie.


Happy Birthday, Darkness!

It's Dark Damian's birthday today so drop by Almost Infamous and give him a shout out, why dontcha? He's also super sweet and nice and handsome and funny and my myspace buddy in case you need a reason as to why he's legit.


Vote HDW

Go here and vote for Green Apple Martini because she is super sweet and nice and beautiful and funny and is my myspace buddy and stuff. And in case I effed up on the link, she's nominated for Best Diarist in the 2006 Weblog Awards. Neat!

Hockey Game Haiku Friday

My Kings lost again
You can't believe it, I know
Such a tragedy
Drive to L.A. sucked
One-Hundred Fifty minutes
Same length as the game
Forgot my camera
Seats up top, then on the floor
But I can't show you
***Update*** I'm a liarmouth. I forgot about the pics I took from the rafters on my cell phone. LOL


1st HNT of December

BFF wanted me to show her some of my holiday decorations. I doubt this is what she meant. 'Tis the season to be accessorizing the house with Christmas splendor!

Happy HNT to all and to all a good night!



I knew if I opened up and turned to you, fellow bloggers, that you wouldn't let me down. How touched was I to receive such good advice and positive feedback? So on the way home after a phenomenal visit with my nephew, and his parents too I guess, I called quasi-beau. Even though initially I was going to let him make the first move to make it up to me, so to speak. I pretty much told him I didn't think I could be with someone who disrespected me and that he hurt my feelings. He apologized again and told me he cared about me and suggested I think about it. I don't necessarily know that I need to. Knowing my history of forgiving and forgetting, or as BFF has dubbed it my "goldfish" syndrome, I'm sure we haven't heard the last of him but I am just not exerting any more effort over this quasi-relationship. I deserve better.
On another note, I was feebly attempting to decorate my apartment for Christmas and happened to be on my balcony when my Samuel L. Jackson-wannabe neighbor started chatting it up with me. I'm all for being a friendly neighbor but this guy just does not know when to quit! I tried to excuse myself a few times and he kept asking me to wait and chat more. So he finally got the hint and I was able to retreat back into my apartment to unwind for the night. About 5 minutes later I hear a knock on the door and homie is standing there with some puppy dog eyes and has a note extended in his hands. I said, "Is this your number?" and he stood there nodding like a child. I wanted to boot. WTF is wrong with people? Does he really think we're going to date or hook up? Jesus Christ. He has three grown children and lives TWO DOORS DOWN from me! Either he has the biggest balls on the planet or just no clue at all.
This is what I attract, people. Freaks. No Prince Charmings. No Mr. Nice Guys. Freaks.


Some Thinking To Do

This could be a day of inner turmoil for you, dear Taurus. You will be rethinking some of your fundamental values and are unsure if they are still relevant to your life. It is clear that some soul-searching is in order for you. There are no right or wrong answers here, only what is in your heart. If your goal is to live authentically, then you will need to make some big changes in your life. But don't act rashly. Think things all the way through before taking action.

Sometimes my MSN horoscope is so dead on the money I find it hard to ignore. Yesterday was full of conflicting thoughts about how incidents went down with quasi-beau regarding the Christmas dinner and his blatant state of inebriation. There is that part of me, "the enabler," that wants to say this is the first time this has happened so there's really no need to make such a big deal out of it. He's a nice guy and he's fun to be around. Then there's that other part of me, the strong, educated woman that knows she is too good for that kind of disrespectful behavior. It can be taken either way - yes, I know that Sunday is his football day but he also knew I asked him to do this one favor for me and could have not gotten intoxicated for one day out of the year.
I'm not trying to toot my own horn here but it seems like almost once a day someone tells me how funny or smart I am, how beautiful, how nice I dress, what a pleasure I am to speak and work with or basically that I'm an all around swell gal. Some might even call me a catch. I guess what I'm getting at is, if I'm so wonderful and have so much going for me, why do I seem to attract these douche bags - who quite frankly almost all have some sort of alcohol problem - like moths to a flame?
Half of me says "ditch that loser" while the more insecure half of me doesn't want to be alone. It's almost like I'm willing to tolerate immaturity and disrespect just so I have someone to go out with a couple times a week. This post probably sounds a whole lot of pathetic but this is what I'm going through and I felt like I needed to get some words on the screen about it. You guys seem to know what you're talking about so drop me a line and tell me what you would do if your date was drunk before your Xmas party... especially if your date is already getting his second chance after you broke up with him once before for his partying ways.


Moral of the Story

Last night was the company Christmas party. It was also a Sunday and quasi-beau's favorite team, the Raiders, were playing so he decided to get waaaaaaaaasted all day. I should have gone stag to the party but instead, after much struggle, I dragged him out of the bar and kind of kidnapped him so we could quickly throw ourselves together and go to the dinner. We arrived late and even though I wanted to rip his drunk ass limb from limb I didn't. A few embarrassing moments ensued like him almost falling into the wine buffet and losing his salad fork, but all in all it was a lovely evening. How cute are my parents? This is a terrible post but I just wanted to throw something up there for your Monday. Thanks so much for all the nice things you guys said about my hair! I love it!


Quote of the Weekend

"Yeah, that'll go over like a turd in a punchbowl."
-Drunk birthday dude @ Pirate's

Red Alert

I got jealous watching the leaves change their colors so I thought I'd change mine, too. I went from blonde to red like they went from green to dead.
Never noticed before how much my nose resembles the crack of my ass...


First of December Haiku Friday

December begins
Twenty-four more shopping days
Christmas-time is here
Herbal remedy
Just what the doctor ordered
I feel better now
Missin' my nephew
Haven't seen him in a week
Love that little guy


Bundled Up Thursday

With the wind blowing like a mo-fo last night, stimulating my snot glands to do their business, the last thing I wanted to do was take a picture of myself. Half-nekked or otherwise. Yes, I the Californian would like to give a little rant about the cold last night. It was cold. Damn cold. Mind you, the thermostat in Vehicular read a mere 52 degrees but the wind was blowing a good 100 mph and I'm factoring in my own wind chill and figure it felt like negative 52. SHUT IT! It's my blog and I can say whatever I want! Some of my very best friends live on the right coast so they always like to one-up me on how the weather out there is so much worse but I don't live there. So there.
A little known fact about my company is that the local police department trains their K-9s in our warehouse. They stash drugs and the dogies get 'em. How cool is that? I would have liked to have seen it first hand after closing time last night but I had a class to attend.
Oh, class. I'm sure glad I sacked up and went even though I wanted to see K-9s and have bronchitis. It was review day so I got to write all about my teacher and how much I dislike her and the way she teaches class. Happy happy. Joy joy.
After class I sped home to find comfort underneath my warm blankies and drift off to dreamland thanks to a hardy dose of NyQuil. Then I woke up this morning to take a refreshingly warm shower only to find out that the wind had blown away the heat, this is according to my apartment manager who don't really speak-a da English. Taking an ice cold shower is NOT the way I want to start a work day. I'll tell you that right now. Sons of bitches.
Other than that, SSDD. Hope ya'll have a good one.



I don't think it's any secret that I've harbored somewhat of a school-girl crush on Ms. Spears for some time now. She's hit very high highs and very low lows but somehow she's carved a little niche in my heart. I was as happy as anyone when she ditched Kevin Federline. Now, however, she's crossed a line and I don't know if I'm going to be so willing to let her back in. She's hanging out with Parasite Hilton and it's eating me alive. Yesterday I was at home with this stupid illness all day so rather than do my research papers or something productive, I did a lot of blog searching and spent a lot of time on tmz.com and Pink Is The New Blog. Link clicking, which you can do yourself as I won't do it here, brought me to a shot of Britney's cookie - as bald as her newborn Jayden James' ass, C-section scar visible and all. I mean, who wears a mini skirt and gets out of a car, showing her vagina to the world? A mother of two younguns? I should hope not. I understand she's only 24 and Lord knows all girls want to do at that age is have fun, but damn, woman. They're called "private parts" for a reason. Ditch that Hilton whore like you did that gold digging man of yours. And for God's sake, kick the ciggy butt habit, sober up, spit that fucking wad of gum out of your mouth once and for all and cover those ginormous milk sacks of yours. Clean up your act or Fed-Ex is going to start looking like the more responsible parent and he'll take those kids of yours away. This is tough love. Show me what you're working with, Britney. Gyrate with a snake or something. Damn.


Not Much Going

You'll never believe this but I'm still fucking sick. I'm coughing up little green cartoon characters like in that nasty commercial for Mucinex. That advertising campaign ranks right up there in the category of grossest shit ever, second only to Digger the Lamisil representative and I cringe every time it comes on the television. Seems only natural that I'd post it on my blog, right? I believe mucous equals infection so I have a call in to the doctor and I'm just waiting to hear when he'll allow me to be graced with his presence. $10 for a 10 minute consultation to tell me I have a cold. Seems reasonable. He better break me off with another prescription of intense pain killers. ***UPDATE*** I've been diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection and bronchitis (to be said with a Spanish accent as follows: B-rrr-own-key-tees). A flu shot was received. I've purchased Day and NyQuil Sinus (because apparently Albertsons in Oxnard doesn't believe in the BFF-endorsed Advil Cold & Sinus) as well as a Refresh tea with three honeys from Starbucks and some fuckin' Ricola. Prescriptions are being filled and soup will be had. Let's beat this thing together.

And on another very important side note: it's Babe's birthday today! Happy birthday, Babe! He is BFF's hubby and the brother I wish I'd had. Uh, along with the one I already do, of course. God bless him on his special day. Extra thanks go to BFF for supplying a photograph as I was clearly unprepared. How have I known Babe for a third of my life yet I have not a single decent shot of him?

Dapper, ain't he?


The Passport


This morning when I woke up, my eyes were sealed shut and my nose was no longer attached to my face apparently and I had that Elmer's glue lip syndrome so I called up the boss man and said I needed to sleep a bit more before I rolled into the office. After a hearty codeine-induced, 2-hour snoozefest, I finally got here around 10 a.m. but I'm feeling like someone hit me with a steam roller. Just like in A Fish Called Wanda. All slow-motion like. "It's K-K-K-Ken c-c-c-coming to k-k-k-kill me." I think that'll be the next DVD I pop in.
Last night I threw caution to the wind and went out with Quasi-beau and a couple of his buddies to get some beer and nachos and watch some football. In hindsight, always 20/20, that might have put the nail in my cold coffin so to speak. So, Shora and Sassy, while I enjoyed your theory of alcohol killing my germs, I think I just blew it right out of the water.
So I've got a little under 6 hours left of my work day and a 3-hour class to look forward to tonight. I don't know if this gal could feel any better about the direction this day is taking, truth be told.


Sickies on Sunday

Dammit. Wasn't I just sick for like a week not that long ago? I clearly remember already having the flu and that was bad enough. Now I have some pain in the ass cold that is utterly pointless. My sinuses are draining down my throat and I wake up with lips that feel like they've been coated with Elmer's glue. Not exactly the look I was going for. Downside of being sick? I've been housebound for most of my 4-day weekend and I'm going to have to cancel going to visit a friend in from out of town this afternoon. I also had to turn down an offer to babysit my nephew for the first time. Upside? Lots of pajama time, got my homework for class done and I've read all of my magazines.
Oh and DVDs. If you haven't watched it in a while I highly recommend Mean Girls. Linday Lohan is such a darling and you kind of shame-shame her for turning into the clubbing tramp she is today but she's such a good actress. The lovely and intellegent Tina Fey wrote the script and it will probably go down in history as one of the great High School movies. Even Tim Meadows' understated performance is to be applauded. And if you can squeeze in a viewing of Raising Arizona I don't think you'll be disappointed. Nic Cage and Holly Hunter had me laughing my ass off. Classic.
Plus I got to see the USC Trojans stomp Notre Dame. I'm sure in hindsight it would have been better to have posted my predictions of a Trojan victory but I didn't. I did know however and they didn't let me down. I don't even like football but for some reason any time someone talks shit about USC I get all defensive. It's not like I even went to that school. Is there a cooler name (or a cuter player) than John David Booty? I just don't think so. Some of my friends have shirts that say "Are you ready for a Booty call?" and I want one.
Other than that, it's back to the grind tomorrow. Can't wait to see the windfall of shit that will be waiting for me when I go into the office. Hooray for holidays.


Bond, James Bond

I can honestly say that before today I don't know that I have ever seen a double-oh seven movie all the way through. I'm really not into espionage movies so I just never gave it a thought. Today, Eli asked if I'd join him to see Casino Royale and boy am I glad I took him up on the offer. From what I've read in many magazines there was much to do about Daniel Craig becoming the new James Bond. I don't know what all the fuss was about because DAMN! he is fine with a body that rocks the party in the best kind of way - keep your eyes open for the scenes of him emerging from the water in his tiny swim shorts. Yum. He's got an egotistical dark side but he's a hero and a lover. There's nothing wrong with that. There have been many a night that I've begged my parents to turn off the poker tournaments on TV but when James Bond is dealt his cards it's hard to not get sucked into the game. The villains look villainous, the women are vixens and the twists and turns are plenty. I'd give my left breast to drive an Aston Martin like the one M, the always amazing Dame Judi Dench, gives Bond and watching it get demolished nearly brought a tear to my eye. From the moment Casino Royale begins you're sucked into action that will have you leaping out of your chair. You should all know by now I'm famous for my participation when watching movies and I was dodging punches, ducking under bullets and diving out of the paths of explosions for the entire 2 and a half hours. I applauded at the end. That's all I can say.

By the way? The trailer for the new Spiderman coming out in May of 2007? Hotness.


Black Haiku Friday

Going to the mall?
Over my own dead body
I'll be a recluse
This week was drama
Needed to prioritize
Crack the old school books
Turkey hangover
Never want to eat again
But breakfast sounds good...


Half-Nekked Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! Feliz dia de gracias!
Big belly, unbuttoned pants and a turkey to blame.
(And the diet starts tomorrow)
I'm thankful for my friends, my family, food on my table, the roof over my head, the clothes on back, my job that provides for me, my health, my car, my quasi-beau, and so much more. Hopefully you got a chance to list the things you're thankful for and to remember that it could always be so much worse. Thanks to the armed forces fighting for our freedom, another thing I'm grateful for. HHNT.
And, let's not forget, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CRUSTY!!!


Humpin' The Turkey

Last night, after getting a gorgeous red manicure, I got to kick it with the nephew for a bit. He's a month old and is already trying to build the leg muscles of a competitive kick boxer. I think he likes funk music because his little ass was dancing. Serious. He's all about being awake now and looks me dead in the eye. G-damn I love that little man. He's so handsomes. Got some professional photos done and he looks just like Dr. Evil's mini-me... cute baby form instead of not-so-cute midget.
I had Cold Stone's for dinner. That's right. Ice cream for dinner. To be exact, pumpkin pie ice cream with the following ingredients mixed in: whipped cream, caramel and graham cracker crust. Yum-me. That's all I'll say about that.
If I wasn't four days dry I'd head over to BJ's for a pumpkin ale after work. Four days without a drop of liquor. And they said it couldn't be done! Gotta be honest, it feels good. I'll probably celebrate my new found sobriety by having a couple beers with tomorrow's appetizers and a glass of wine with my Thanksgiving dinner because, let's be realistic. A whole day with the family? It's really not negotiable.
Other than that, I don't have much to say. BFF is in Paris so if you feel like relentlessly e-mailing me today to help me pass my work day, the invitation has been extended. But just until 4 p.m. Pacific Standard Time because the boss man is letting us cut out early. Holla.


Weirdest. Gift. Ever.

Did you get a good look? Looks like a sleeping puppy, huh? Well this weird little toy tricked my buddy Eli into thinking I'd gotten a puppy. Part of its realism is that its chest rises and falls like it's breathing. Scary. Eli wanted to shoot it with a pellet gun. Can't say I blame him. My mother, crazy bitch that she is, bought this for me because I said I wanted a puppy. I'm a 29-year old woman with a fake dog. Just another thing to vacuum around. ***Update*** You, too, can adopt a Perfect Petzzz thingy. Knock yourself out.


Whiny Ass

First and foremost, thanks to you, my fellow blog buddies. Your encouraging words on that shameful post below really put a smile on my face. It's a cyclical thing where I beat the ever living shit out of myself for being human and then at the end of the day I look back and say, "Overreact much, Randi?" Honestly, I blame the booze. It's doing my waistline, my pocket book and my mindframe no favors. I think I'll hop on the fabled wagon for a bit. Or, you know, just stop binge drinking like I'm some college frat boy. Stick to a glass of wine and some water? Maybe a pint of beer instead of a half gallon? Just some points to ponder.
Also? The school thing? Yeah... the truth is I'm totally up to speed on my assignments even though I could really be better about the reading and I'm pulling As (maybe Bs) in my classes as of this post. I was under the misconception that the rough draft research paper was due today when in reality it was just an optional thing if you wanted the professor's feedback. She actually complimented another related assignment I'd turned in and said she liked my topic and my writing style. So really? All that ranting below? Totally and utterly pointless.
What this really boils down to is I'm a perfectionist. People can tell me I'm doing a great job until they are blue in the face and I can get nothing but positive reinforcement but I will still find flaws in what I've accomplished. Some way I could have been better. Work is a bit stressful still because I am still catching on and I think it stems from that. The fact of the matter is, however, I'm doing a bang up job there and no one is complaining. Just me.
And? I'm an eensy weensy bit jealous that my brother is living the life I thought I'd be living by now - a sig other, a kid, a place in the nice part of town and a good paying job. All my life I've felt like I've worked really hard to get to where I am but it all seems to come so easily for him. So this is really my shit and I need to work it out without beating myself up. After all, I'm only human, right? Tomorrow I'll try and be funny again.

Letting Myself Down

I'd like to sum up the way I feel in a tiny little rant. I've been drinking too much, eating whatever I want and have not been exercising for at least a month. Therefore, my pants are tight, my body resembles a Jell-o Jiggler as opposed to a J-Lo Jiggler and I'm upset with myself. And my fridge and cupboards are close to bare. Also, my studies have been put on the back burner in a very unproductive way so I haven't done any reading or writing or 'rithmetic and things are due today in a very serious way. I'm tired of telling myself "tomorrow will be different" and doing nothing to change my ways. I certainly didn't see the inside of a gym this weekend and instead of buckling down and writing a rough draft of my research paper, I killed Saturday at a football game and then proceeded to suffer all day yesterday for it. Oh, hangover headaches, why? I did my laundry, paid bills and went out to dinner instead. There are days where I wonder why I'm even in school if I'm going to be taking over the family business so-to-speak and then there are days when I am so gung-ho about getting my bachelor's degree I feel like no one can stop me. Now the holidays are here and it's going to be non-stop until the middle of January. Whew. K. I feel better. Just had to get that off my chest.


USC vs Cal

Disclaimer: Because I am sensitive to the fact that BFF and her hubby, Babe, are Cal Alumni and I care more about marching bands than football there will be no discussion of score and/or game in this post. On Saturday I went to my second USC football game ever, first time tailgating. This makes for a very long day. There is a lot of drinking involved, outhouses and finger foods - not the best combo. We left Oxnard at 9 a.m. and got home around midnight. Wow. Some highlights? Meeting some other people from Oxnard and having them shout "805! Chiques!" Standing in a long ass line for a port-a-potty and screaming "What the fuck is taking so long?!" and having a girl come out of said port-a-potty saying, "Fuck you, bitch, talking shit!" Haha! A fight over an outhouse, people, it is on. Kicking over a band member's beer, whoopsie!
Sitting on John's Hog
Tailgating with the mens - earning title "beer wench"
Me and Tommy Trojan; The World's Best Marching Band
Party foul!
They can spell, too!
A full house

The fog rolls in


Thank God It's Haiku Friday

There is nothing like
Middle of the night phone calls
Drunk and/or sober
Weekend plans are few
Just brunch for sure on Sunday
Duct tape my mouth shut
Thanksgiving's so close
I can taste that turkey now
Clothes that fit be damned


Shower HNT

K, so I blatantly stole this from Exile and while my shower curtain isn't nearly as saucy as his, it's goofy as all hell and worthy of the HNT forum. I really have to stop waiting until Thursday mornings to take these pictures.


London Calling

So I'm tagging along with BFF on a wee vacay to London. It's official. Purchased the tickets yesterday for the 2nd to the 10th of January. Couldn't be more pleased.
This ticket purchase and consequent trip got me thinking about what Fergie's song means. "How come every time you come around my London, London Bridge wanna go down?" That doesn't make sense. Is she talking about her mouth? Her pants? I just don't get it. Stay far away from Fergie. She can't be trusted.
Pulled out the old passport this morning because I wanted to check on the expiration. Just so happens it expired in March of '97 so it is of absolutely no use to me now. That picture? Man. If only I had a scanner to capture the beauty I was at the age of 15. My hair was god-forsaken, people. It actually looks frizzy yet windblown. I think I tried to straighten out my perm that day. I don't think it's the same Ogilvie home perm my aunt gave me in her trailer one summer but it's just as bad. May have even shed a tear or two before the photo was taken because I knew how terrible I looked. Hoooo, Doggie.
During the summer of 1992, over 14 years ago, I took a three week bus tour along the east coast of Australia. Swam in the Great Barrier Reef, went to the Sydney Opera House, had a BBQ in the Outback. Plus it was three weeks away from my whole family! How glorious. That's the only place that passport ever went. Maybe I can fill this next one up. Weeeee!
Just got my damn passport. $200! Can you believe that? Expedited because otherwise that bitch wouldn't get to me on time. Damn. Oh and my picture? Gorgeous yet again. I look like a prepubescent boy. Gotta love it.


Happy Birthday, Moo Lady!

59 today.
A hot grandma.
I wish I had a rack like that.
Watch out Martha Stewart.
"Sup, bitches!"
Love you, Mom.

Don't ever change.


Last night at the hockey game we went into the souvenir store because I've been searching high and low for a women's Kings jersey with a rhinestone crown on it. (On a side note: if anyone knows where I can find said jersey, please let me know). Anyhoo, for those of you who are unaware, Staples Center, home of the Kings, is smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. I'd say about 90% of the employees there are of the African American persuasion so the ladies that work there have all kinds of attitude and I looooooove it! This stems back to high school when I saw Menace II Society and thought I was O-Dog for about a year. In the store, while I was looking for an XL in the young women sizes, one of the sales people came up to me and said , "Grrrl, they hardly ever have XL for girls like us." By "us" she was referring to myself and herself. I am a statuesque 5'8" 165 lb. woman whereas she was a squat five to six inches shorter than me and probably outweighed me by a good 20 lbs. I smiled and responded that clothes these days aren't made for women with curves and together we joked that designers had no respect for the booty and the boobies. A laugh was shared, we parted ways and I continued shopping. She then approached me again and said, "Grrrl, I have something you should look at. This is made for us plus-sized girls." Um. Ok. Someone just lost a sale. I'm all for sharing the curves comment but please don't call me plus-sized. Please. I wear a size 10 so I'm not exactly small but come on. Gotta be honest, some hopes were dashed for me so I headed to the beer stand and ordered me some nachos and a hot dog. Mmm. Comfort food. Guess who has her gym bag with her today?

Kings 4, Sharks 2

Before the game: Me & Gerg, Dad & Curtis
Grier - one of the few black men in hockey
A little more flattering shot of dad & Fight!


Tagged by BFF!

1. Things that scare me: Losing my friends or family.
2. People who make me laugh: Pretty much anyone, I'm easy to please.
3. Things I hate the most: Ignorance (racism, homophobia, you name it.)
4. Things I don't understand: Really hard math and why people are so mean sometimes.
5. Things I'm doing right now: Sneaking a quick post before I get some work done whilst eating cantaloupe.
6. Things I want to do before I die: Travel the world and get my bachelor's degree. Maybe get married and pop a few kids out.
7. Things I can do: be anal retentive enough to keep a clean desk, car and apartment simultaneously!
8. Ways to describe my personality: Manic, hilarious, insecure.
9. Things I can't do: Knit, find a good man to worship me.
10. Things I think you should listen to: the opinions and advice of your friends and, per BFF, your mom.
11. Things you should never listen to: BFF said The Smashing Pumpkins and I'll have to agree though I'd like to add Audioslave to that list. Oh, and peer pressure. Just say no, kids.
12. Things I'd like to learn: enough Spanish to be bilingual, how to cook a decent meal without a recipe book.
13. Favorite Foods: burritos and sushi and pizza and hot dogs and cookies and ice cream...
14. Beverages I drink regularly: Fat Tire Beer and Wild Horse Chardonnay.
14a. Beverages I'm trying not to drink regularly: See above and add sodie pop.
15. Shows I watched as a kid: Gummy Bears, Garfield, He-Man, Fraggle Rock
16. Persons I am tagging: If it gets his ass to post, I'm tagging Macca, but he won't do it.


Gratuitous Nephew Pics

Arrived asleep... shocking.

Alfred Hitchcock Impersonation

Eyes & Burping