The Road Warrior...With Almost As Much Rage As Mel Gibson

Unlike many people with a work commute, I actually quite enjoy my drive time. Gives me a chance to think, listen to tunes, be alone. When I smoked, it was even more awesome. A cigarette, good music and the open road were all I needed to get my head on straight and either prepare for a day of work or unwind from a day at work.

Unfortunately, my time in the car is often RUINED by stupid jerkwads who can't drive and send me into a fit of rage.

I am usually a pretty even keel person. I don't fly off the handle too easily. It takes a lot to send me over the edge, but when I do, I TOTALLY lose it. I realize this isn't the healthy way to deal with problems, but it's how I roll...and I've tried to change, but there's just no changing it without a bunch of therapy that I can't afford. For some reason, though....when I'm in the car....it takes NOTHING to get me to this point of sheer, blind rage. I've dropped a countless number of bad words in my car. If I had a dollar for every one, I could balance the federal budget. I've cursed at everyone. Probably even you.

There are certain people who just should not be allowed to drive or should have their licenses revoked when they do these certain things. I want my relaxing drive time back.

1. Tailgaters

I hate you.

If you are legitimately trying to pass me and waiting for an opportunity to do so, that doesn't bother me as much; however, if you are just riding my ass for no apparent reason and have plenty of opportunities to pass and do not, then you deserve it when I "see a squirrel" and slam on my brakes. I have nothing to lose. Look at my car. Are you sure you want to tailgate me? It's dangerous and stupid, and if you're in that much of a hurry, then pass me already. I can't properly jam out and dance in my car with you on my ass...watching and judging me. You are destroying my road decompression time, and thereby destroying my day.

2. I'm in a hurry....no I'm not.

I don't understand it when people pass me up, only to get in front of me and go slower than I was previously going. Are you in a hurry or not? Make up your freaking mind. We are driving, not playing musical freakin chairs, asshat!

3. Any slower, and you'd be going backwards.

Geezers often drive slowly. Too slowly. If you are at the point where you can't drive faster than 40mph in a 55mph zone (or faster)...then you need to not be driving anymore.

Also, people who are hauling things or doing their farm work during peak traffic times. I am trying to get to work on time or get home at a reasonable hour. You couldn't have done this ANY EARLIER or ANY LATER? You really had to move this trailer at 5pm on a weekday? Really? I hate you.

4. Next time I see you, you're going to be a greasy skid mark on the pavement.

I always say a little prayer when someone on a motorcycle or crotch rocket passes me going at least a hundo. Obviously they are already brian damaged...perhaps from previous head injuries sustained in crashes? Slow down. People have a hard time seeing 2-wheeled vehicles anyway, let alone when they come up on you from out of nowhere and then pass you like you're standing still.

Really though, I think driving super fast is crazy and stupid and a good way to get someone killed (but probably not yourself, because stupid people often have some kind of cat-like, nine-lived indestructability). You don't have to go thirty miles over the speed limit if it's not an emergency. The grocery store will still be there even if you get their five minutes later.

5. People who don't understand right-of-way.

You obviously passed the test at the DMV. If you don't know the rules, how did you get a license? STUDY. Two way stops are THE WORST for this. Nobody knows what to do, and then people try to let each other go, which causes more confusion, then everyone tries to go at the same time...then by the time you figure it out, there are cars coming. LEARN THE RULES! There's nothing that makes me angrier than when it's someone else's turn and they try to wave me through. You don't know the rules, and I don't trust you. How do I know you won't hit me? Ugh. So, for this reason, I try to avoid two way stops whenever possible.

6. Here in the U.S., we drive on the right side of the road.

This is usually a dude thing, I'm sorry to say. I guess their penises are so large it requires them to take up both lanes of highway by driving in the middle of the road. Seriously though...stay on your side. I think it'll be ok.

7. Turning lanes are for turning...not driving.

Please don't drive in that lane for miles and miles. That's not what it's there for, and you're going to cause an accident.

8. Are you gonna stop or not?!?

The only time you should slam your brakes is in an emergency (if you have anti-locks)...you should actually begin to slow down before you reach your stop sign or red light, you dumbass. But if you want to jack up your car, be my guest.

9. Trying to pass me? Well, we can't have that! Let me speed up!

If someone is trying to pass you, the more courteous thing would be to slow down a bit so they can safely get around you without tailgating. Apparently some people enjoy tailgaters, though...because when you attempt to pass, they suddenly realized they're late or something and decide to accelerate. So, either you have to gun it and go 90 to get around them, or you have to slow down and get back behind them. Either way, they are assholes.

10. Get off your freaking phone.

There is no excuse. If you are incapable of multi-tasking, then you need to pull over to take your phone call, or wait until you arrive at your destination, or set yourself up with blue tooth or some sort of hands-free thing. Everyone thinks they can drive while talking on their cell phones...some people even SAVE phone conversations for WHILE THEY ARE IN THE CAR. Very few people are actually capable of doing this successfully. I know, we're all guilty of it. But seriously, it needs to stop, because most people just simply cannot talk on the phone and drive at the same time. Most of the things on this list occur when people are talking on cell phones.

Those are just some of the many things I've screamed about in my car...or beat on my steering wheel because of. It's enough to make me never want to leave the house. People are trying to make it so that the driving age is increased. I don't think that's necessary at all. I think bad drivers come in all ages, and whether or not you increase the age, these assholes will still be on the road...lurking....waiting to ruin everyone's decompression drive time...and waiting for their ears to turn red from my verbal lashing.

This Is How We Do It

Wanted to share some fun photos from a shopping excursion my friends and I recently took (ok ok...it was a few weekends ago at this point. I'm neglecting the blog. I'm sawwy.) to a magical discount clothing outlet in an even more dazzling place - the Alexandria Mall.

My friends and I, we've often done this thing when shopping where we pick out the ugliest crap we can find and try it on. It was especially fun when shopping for formal wear when we were looking for prom attire in high school. (Boy do I wish I had some of THOSE pictures of my friend Lauren. Horrible old lady formal dress. Horrible hooker formal dress. Gooood stuff!) But it's still fun today with "casual" or "dressy casual" clothing.

So where do we begin...

While perusing the jackets, I came across a color that is usually reserved for old Mawmaws. What a delightful shade of corpse this was!

But, much to our dismay, it didn't look as horrendous on me as it did on the rack. (Probably because I'm so pale, that the corpse-like color actually made me look a little alive?) It actually looked sorta good....so good, in fact, that I ended up buying the same jacket in a slightly bigger size (obviously...fatty alert!) and a different color (brown). (Leave me alone, it may be slightly Michael Jackson-y sans zippers, but it was only $13).

This brings me to the next beautiful item on the agenda....The Pink Pleather Shirt.

I don't know what kind of 80s stylish secretary hell this thing came from, but I've never tried anything on that breathed LESS than this thing did. As soon as I put it on, my body temp increased to about 195 degrees. Not cool indeed! But it's SO FLATTERING! Especially with my hawt double chins! You pay a price for being this sexy....

Actually, you pay the price not only in sweat, but also in cash. I am most certainly a bargain shopper and have a hard time spending more than $30 on any single piece of clothing because I'm poor and would rather spend money on important things like food (fatty!) and booze. This pink horror was actually the most expensive thing I tried on all day, believe it or not. It was right at $30. NO THANK YOU.

Finally, what Pink Pleather Shirt could possibly be properly accentuated without fancy, designer juhree from the famous Charles Klein. Calvin wishes he were as stylish and fabulous as his fancy brother Charles. Calvin ain't got shit on Charles.

And pink plastic "pearls" are so hot right now. Lauren knows.

Finally, to complete the entire ensemble....we need shoes. And not just any shoes would do. We needed Shoe Sextacy. We needed ....THESE!!

Hope you guys got a little joy out of this. Sorry the photos are so small (well...some of them at least...like the shoes). Computer is being wonky and not uploading properly, so could only do small ones.

H-Town Fanciness.

So I am currently in Houston with the fam for 4th of July weekend/niece's birthday celebration. Good times. We went shopping at the Galleria today - the Galleria....the huge, fancy pants Houston shopping mall.

Now I'm not going to post a huge long thing about it, but I thought it was slightly hysterical when compared to the other blog I'm working on (with pics! so stay tuned) about my previous shopping excursion to the Alexandria mall.

I'd previously been to the Galleria only once on a field trip, so we didn't really venture too far from the food court and skating rink. This time we went into lots of stores, though. And they have all of the full blown luxury stores here. Louis Vuitton, Armani, Chanel, Gucci, etc. Some, like Burberry, which I LOVE, I couldn't even go into. I just stood by the window, admiring the cute stuff. I love plaid. I love big coats. I love Burberry. But even if I had enough money to buy the whole store, I don't know if I could ever justify doing it.

It's weird...there are definitely inherent cultural differences between the way I live and the way Houstonians live. I read something about how people from Houston spend more money per capita at restaurants each year than residents of any other city in the country. That's just the first difference of many.

I guess people just make a lot more money here and like to spend a lot more of it than what I'm used to. It's quite bizarre to me, though. I can't even fathom being rich enough to be able to throw down thousands of dollars on something I'm going to WEAR. Then you have to murder someone when it gets stained/broken/ruined. I mean....it's stuff! I know it's nice to look nice and nice to have nice things...but seriously!? For that pair of shoes, you could pay for a year of some colleges. You could feed a hundred hungry people. You could fly round-trip to some fabulous destination.

Anyway...we came across a shoe store called "Gregory"...which we had to go into because my nephew's name is Gregory....and because we saw the window display of the horrible stripper heels and figured we had to get a closer look...

Something else I hate about shopping in fancy stores is that the people that work there will not stop harassing and hovering over you. I realize they work on commission (PRETTY WOMAN!), but give me a freaking break! Maybe I just looked like I was gonna try to steal something...ANYWAY....

We went into Gregory, and started pointing and looking and commenting on how terrible some of the stripper heels were....and then the sales girl let us know about their big sale.

Y'all ready for this?

Strappy, two-inch platform, fug-ass shoes. They look about Payless-quality-only uglier - ....and they're having a BIG SALE!......

And this bitch says, "Three pairs for twelve hundred."

COME AGAIN? $1,200? Like yen? Or like American dollars? I can get the same shit at Frederick's of Hollywood for less than five hundred fa sho. Sales girl must have lost her mind.

Which got us thinking....

What sort of woman who can afford to spend $400 on a pair of shoes would buy THESE shoes? It must be far more expensive to be a stripper than I thought. Or, I don't know...does Houston have "escort" services? Maybe THAT's who shops there.

People be crazy. And people be spendin too much money on crazy, unimportant things.

That is all for today. If I don't post again until then, I hope everyone has a very Happy 4th!

Mornings - Like Mondays, Only Worse.

So, I'm obviously not a fan of mornings at all. I'm sure those of you who are reading this probably know that. I am a vicious, evil, catty mess until I've either had a bath/shower or a caffeine jolt...or at least gotten a chance to move around a bit. You do not want to have a conversation with me if I've been up for less than a half an hour - which is why you should NEVER, under ANY circumstances, call me early in the morning or late at night. If you think I might be sleeping...don't do it.

My sister loves to tell this story to illustrate my morning evil...

She was finishing high school at Louisiana School at the time, and was home for the weekend. I was 2-3 years old. For some reason, everyone was gone. It was just she and I left home alone together...and it was in the morning.

I came into my kitchen as I usually did in the morning....wearing a bitchface and my pjs....and sat at the table.

My sister was new and didn't know the drill. She had no idea that I couldn't properly function without my morning hot chocolate. So she probably said something like, "Morning, Boober! Do you want some breakfast?"

I then probably gave her the death stare (which is like the bitchface if the bitchface were making a bitchface) and screeched, "I WANT MY HOT CHOCOLATE!!!!!!" - I was super charming as a child...really, I was.

So she proceeds to try to make my hot chocolate...first she used the wrong cup, so I had to correct her about that as well. I had to have it in my coffee mug with the bear on it. Always.

And it had to be the correct temperature, which meant there was a certain amount of time my mom would heat it up in the microwave, which Sara didn't know about, so first it was too hot and we were going to have to let it cool. After much crying and protesting and schooling, I finally got my hot chocolate.

Now, contrary to the way I am today in taking my sweet and precious time with food and beverage, I would GOOZLE my morning hot chocolate. I mean...me as a tiny two-year-old would gulp that stuff down without setting the mug down until it was all gone.

Then I'd of course get a horrible stomachache. So I'd put my head down on the table and moan and wail and writhe in agony. Sometimes I'd spew...but usually not. Then...once that passed...I'd jump down and be ready for the daily activities.

I guess my morning rituals have always been slightly off....

Which is why I don't get you morning people. How do you do it? What are you on? How do you wake up and immediately want to TCB? Making all kinds of noise and jumping right into work. Or worse...GETTING UP EARLIER THAN YOU HAVE TO so that you can do things like exercise or "enjoy the day"......

Umm..."enjoy the day" my ass. You know what makes an enjoyable day for me? Sleep. I don't want to get up at 5am so I can watch the news and see the sunrise. I see the sun SET every day, and it's just as marvelous. I can also see the news at night or in the afternoon, but ya know what? I don't watch it then either, because it effing sucks and is depressing, and if I wanted to be depressed all the time, I'd have chosen my other possible career paths of social work and counseling.

So yeah...share your secrets, Morning People. I need to know how you do it. But, in the meantime, don't mess with me in the morning. Especially on the road. I'm talking to you, bus drivers and others who think it's fun to pull out in front of the angry girl in the little car who is late for work and go five mph below the speed limit.

See? Less than a week and I've posted another entry. I'm trying! Still got lots to discuss, my dears. Stay tuned. And check this regularly...even if I don't put a Facebook link...because I don't always get to do that.

Stay or Go?

Short post today (yes, I know it's been a while, and YES, I will really try to be better about regular postings. It's just really difficult because I'm po' and live in the stone age and don't have a functioning computer with the internets at my house, so instead of having the luxury of coming home after work, I have to go to a place with a functioning computer and internet, write the blog (which takes me over an hour usually) and then do whatever obligatory visiting is required for the blogging place in question. By that time, I don't get home until 7pm, which is a pain in my ass. Especially when not many people read this thing anyway. If more of you read and commented, it might be worth the effort. Thanks to those that frequently do. You guys own my heart. I may sound bitter. Sorry. It's really not about this. I actually really enjoy blogging. It's the important "real job" part and having to spend so much time doing it that I hate.)

Anyway, today's post is about something I often think about while watching talk shows...both daytime and night time, but particularly the night time ones.....

I judge people by whether or not they stay for the subsequent guests.

You know. When they move down a chair and stay and listen to the lesser-known or not-as-hot-right-now star gab about what they're promoting as well...

I realize some people are big shits (I meant to type "shots," but that made me laugh, so I'm rollin' with it) and have zillions of other places they could be as soon as they wrap up the interview, particularly if they're promoting a new movie, because that is always crazy and chaotic.

But c'mon man. Really? You've got more important things to do than the TONIGHT SHOW (I miss my Coco sooo soooo much)? Or Letterman? Or even effing Late Night with Jimmy Fallon? Please. Give me a freakin' break.

It's like their time is soooo soo valuable, they can't spare an additional ten minutes? Or, worse, they are such big shits (staying with it) that they couldn't POSSIBLY give up the focus of attention to someone else on national television? Couldn't possibly take a backseat for TEN FREAKING MINUTES even though they were first and we had to sit through their whole thing? Give me a break! Those egomaniacle turds should calm the eff down.

So yeah, it always makes me like someone more if they stay for the second interview. It shows that they have more character, that they care more, that they aren't so self-obsessed that they can actually sit through the cameras and questions being directed toward someone else for ten minutes. Especially in that business. The Hollywood "Look at me" business.

Recently I saw Robert Pattinson on the Tonight Show. The biggest star in the freaking universe right now. And HE freaking stayed. So, no excuses for anyone else. None.

Speaking of Rob, I've had a post about Twilight planned for a while now. Why I love to hate it. A review, of sorts. That will probably be this weekend. Still have Road Rage post and Milan Lounge post to work on as well. Plenty of stuff planned. Just have to make myself better at this regular posting thing. Sorry, guys. I promise that I'll try to be better. Stick around.

The Importance of Cheese

Let me first wish Johnny Depp a very happy birthday today. 47 years young and still the best example of pure, concentrated awesomeness that has ever existed. I love him. Yeah yeah, he's cute and all that...but he also exudes charm and cool and always does and says and wears interesting things. Just a friggin awesome human being. Someone who actually belongs here and isn't just taking up skin. Ok, I'm done.

Anyway... today's entry is about cheese, since cheese keeps interjecting itself into my day today.

Ahh, cheese. Glorious cheese. There are few finer things to me than cheese. I like all kinds. I like fake process cheese food products. I like the finest French cheeses. Hard cheese, soft cheese, melted cheese. ALL delicious. Except for cheese sauce that is made from a powder or comes in a large can. That is the only cheese I am not a fan of. Give me cheese...not cheese sauce....unless the cheese sauce is made from melted cheese....


Which brings me to the highest and most exalted of all cheeses in the my cheese hierarchy....queso dip. I'm not talking about that shit you buy in a can at 7-11. I'm talking about delicious Mexican restaurant queso. Being a fatty, I would swim in a vat of queso until I got queso ear. I could drink it out of a dish. I eat it not only on chips, but on other items of foodage that I order from Mexican restaurants. It is the stuff dreams are made of. Queso...the true nectar of the gods (it's sorta liquidy....so I guess nectar rather than ambrosia?).

Anyway, I've been doing pretty well with the not consuming everything in sight thing since I've quit smoking (today is day five....the days in general are getting easier, but when those urges kick in, I still want to kill someone). So today, I decided to reward myself with a special queso treat from El Tapitio. So yummeh, right? Yeah...yeah it is.

So I get my delicious queso and salsa and chippies....get in my car to go back to work with it, and begin my very careful drive back. That means taking curves and turns carefully, avoiding bumps, not changing lanes, etc.-to avoid queso and salsa spillage.

So wouldn't you know that some half-witted, probably drunk, crusty loser shit for brains fuckface (scuse the language, but that's nothing compared to what I screamed at him in my car) had to be on the road near me as well. We KNEW this was going to happen, right? So he decides to drive like a dumbass (get almost all the way into the left lane before making a right hand turn in his freaking TOYOTA TACOMA....IT IS NOT A SEMI, YOU MORON!, speed up and slow down, swerve, and participate in other acts of road-losery). Then came the kicker. I was trying to be good and get away from him by getting around him on a two-lane road. I'm in the left, he's in the right. So I speed up a bit...and then just as I'm right beside him, he decides to put his blinker on and attempt to get over - almost hitting me. I had to slam on my brakes to avoid a collision, sending my queso container flying onto the floorboard of my car. Don't mess with my queso, dude. I'm a hungry chunky chick...I just quit smoking...I've been in a very violent mood for the past few days...and all I wanted was queso. If it would have spilled, I may have followed him to wherever he was going and slung some eff words at him (or beat him with my purse). But, since it didn't spill, I did what any self-respecting lady would do in the same situation....I honked my horn like a banshee and flipped him off while clearly mouthing a stream of obscenities. He turned off after that. Road rage WIN!

And I still got to enjoy my queso! So...all in all, not a bad day for the Noonies.

Oh, and I almost forgot! I got so caught up in the queso road rage story that I was about to forget to show you guys this! (for those of you who haven't already heard about this life-altering piece of amazingness!)

Effective July 1st, Subway will begin tessellating their isosceles cheese slices for more even sandwich coverage! Fatties of the world REJOICE! Hahaha.

And on a final note, today's queso incident was not an isolated bad driver encounter. Tomorrow (or whenever), I plan to concoct a blog about all of the causes of my violent road rage, so stay tuned, because that one should be fun (and hopefully interactive....be sure to leave your comments below!)

Long Time No See

Hello again, everyone. It's been a while.

Just wanted to assemble a brief blog today just to let you guys know that I'm still here and haven't given up on this or anything. Here's what's been going on lately...in no particular order.

It was Memorial Day Weekend....family was in town. Nieces and nephews were in town. Sisters and their significant others were in town. David did some delicious barbecuing. We drank too much and ended up singing songs (well...I think that may have just been me and David. I don't remember. It was fun, though). Good family holiday get-together fun. I'm not ever going to interrupt family holiday get-together fun to write a blog...I don't care what that blog may be about. It's not as important as family time.

So...before the Memorial Day festivities began and my family got here, I spent that Friday evening/Saturday watching Lost Season 4. Then after everyone left...Lost Season 5. I'm nursing my enormous crush on Jeremy Davies...

Ok, I know...I know. He's totally not my type (except that he usually has facial hair). I like giant, scruffy, viking-esque dudes who look like they can burp the alphabet and would kick your ass if you said something bad about Lemmy. Those are my typical crushes. It's my general rule of the swoon. Techno Viking = Hawt. Zakk Wylde = Hawt. Russell Crowe circa Mystery, Alaska = Hawt. I can't help myself. It's not something I can control. If I could, I would.

Which is why my crush on Jeremy Davies baffles me tremendously. I don't know why it exists or how it developed, but every single time I see him in a movie...I want to make him some rice and gravy and give him a big hug. But...like...in a crushy way. Weird, right? I know!

Even though he always plays the totally UNsexy, quiet weirdo character....it's ALWAYS there for me. I ALWAYS would. Even in Saving Private Ryan, where he is such a horrible coward...I'd still. I'd still. Even in Secretary with that bad, bad sex scene (THE HAND!)....I'd still. Even in Rescue Dawn where he's immaciated and horrifying looking...I'd fry him some chicken, make him a milkshake, and I'd still. Like, when I saw him in Helter Skelter, which was AWFUL...I totally got the appeal of how so many people fell under Charlie Manson's charismatic spell. ...oh, and I'd still.

So anyway, I'm finishing up Season 5 of Lost tonight. His character, Daniel Faraday, is totally about to croak. I can tell. Which will not make me a happy camper. And, at this point in time....not making me a happy camper = me throwing something through a car window, howling at the moon and running into the forest to be with the other crazy night beasts.

I quit smoking (in case you couldn't tell). It's the third day today. My second attempt at quitting ever. So like...Volume 2, Issue 3. Last time I was living with my friends, and I remember laying on their couch in the fetal position for an entire day while crying and eating a half gallon of ice cream. This time, I want to tear your face off and throw it at passing motorists. I want to yell at people. I want to spin around like the Tazmanian Devil and wreak havoc everywhere I go. I want to rip my hair out and set it on fire, then chew my arms off and throw them in that fire as well. I want to destroy priceless items. I want to make people cry. I want to piss in someone's cheerios. I want to run outside, smear dirt on my face, and scream at old people. My skin is crawling. I want a cigarette so badly...so so so badly. But I won't. So yeah...day 3. It's actually not as bad as I thought it would be...hahaha.

Everyone wish me luck as I continue my journey of nicotine withdrawals into even darker crazier wacko craziness. Yaaaaaay. I'll try to collect my thoughts tomorrow to get a blog out for you guys. In the meantime, stay gold. ....mmm....Camel Turkish Gold......NO!

Why Do Rednecks Like This Stuff?

Ahh, rednecks. So much to love. So much to hate. And so much I don't understand.

There are a few pieces of redneck memorobilia that I just don't get. Why are these things enjoyable? Why are they must-haves? What is the purpose of these things?

Allow me to explore a few of these little tidbits of redneck life...

1. My main purpose for writing a post on this topic is the testicle-like accesories that many of these folks choose to hang from their trailer hitches.

Why? No...really...I'd love to know why. Is this a symbol of PURE MASCULINITY? Like..."I'm a man. And my truck is a man. Check out its nutsack." I mean, if that's the case, then why not go HUGE and paint a giant scrotum on your tailgate? Or put a giant weiner as a hood ornament? Many of them have already gone obnoxiously huge as far as tire size or truck volume, so what's one more obnoxious vehicular adjustment?

2. Larry the Cable Guy
I know. He has legions of fans. People love him. I just don't think he's funny. Like, at all. The jokes are all the most obvious kinda stuff you'd hear from any local redneck. His timing is terrible. I just don't get it. Now Ron White...HE is funny. I'd take Ron White over Larry the Cable Guy any day. This also goes for the phrase "Git 'Er Dun!" or however that nonsense is spelled.

3. The "other" vehicular decorations.
This is all the other stuff rednecks like to decorate their cars with. Giant decals and bumper stickers with their names and other information that no one else cares about and totally shines a spotlight on their ignorance. Like whether or not they are "Skeered." At least Bud and Sissy had license plates. I also don't think that having three-foot praying hands on your back glass means that you're a religious person. In fact, it probably means you have something to prove, and therefore, I do not trust you.

4. The clothes.
Ok, now I'm certainly not trying to be a snob here. I understand that it's hard to afford the latest fashions. I don't dress like a movie star either. But come on, man. Don't buy white boots if you plan on wearing them every day for the next several years. They don't hold up well. Also, why did redneck fashion stop at various points in the 70s and 80s? The acid wash. The airbrushed t-shirts. The tight, floral pants. Oy vey. It's too much to bear.

5. The lady beautification.
Again, this is not my domain. I'm of more of the "I don't care" philosophy, but I do know a thing or two about how to get pretty when necessary, and it doesn't involve a can of Aqua Net and back-combing my bangs. Or uncomfortably long Lee Press On Nails.

6. The art
Velvet paintings. There was obviously a first person to take a piece of velvet and say, "this is so nice and plush...I think I'll stretch it out and use it as a canvas." Who was this person? I want a name. Velvet paintings are also almost always of hilarious subjects. Like panthers and other jungle cats. They are actually so bad that, for me, they've gone back to good again. I recently saw a velvet painting of an old hillbilly drinking something moonshine-esque out of a jug, and I really, really want it. If I ever get enough money to own and decorate my own home one day, it will be filled with hilarious things of that sort. Like this gem. OMG I must have this.

My apologies to any of you reading this that may have or enjoy any of the aforementioned things. Just let me know when, and I'll get you a little something for your suffering.

TV Dorkout

I have a love affair with certain TV shows.

When it comes to televised entertainment, I don't really have a type. There's no set formula that makes a show a favorite of mine. I like lots of different kinds.

But...seriously...how much better are your favorite shows on DVD?

I'm not one of those fancy pants people with a DVR. I'm talking about DVD. The disks. The tangible pieces of plastic that you own and keep on a shelf somewhere. That's the ticket. Not some file you have on a computer somewhere. Something that your visitors can peruse like a library of you. (I feel the same way about books.) They're conversation pieces. They're things you feel like you actually own because you can touch them. They don't live in a mystery ghost world of backslashes and code and numbers.

Anyway...I just got Lost season 4 on DVD. That's where I left off and never recovered. I got about halfway through season 4, then life happened and I missed a couple of consecutive episodes. Due to the fact that my job was my only real access to the Internets, it's not like I could watch the missed episodes online. I gave up. I forfeited. I waved the white flag to rabid Lostmania. And I didn't really have to deal with it too much because (for some reason) people weren't really talking about it for a while. It stopped being a major part of my life (I know that seriously sounds like the most losery thing you've ever heard, but if you think that's losery, you haven't been properly acquainted with Lost. There's serious emotional investment involved. Serious, traumatic shit that often feels personal - like it's happening to your family or something.)

But BOY OH BOY have people been talking about it lately. You've probably heard that it was just the big series finale. The last Lost EVAR! So I've had to try to avoid internet spoilers and friends' conversations and everything. So...I got tired of that and decided to pick up where I left off with it.

It's how I've watched the other episodes of Lost. I spend one smelly, greasy weekend sitting on my couch or in bed and doing nothing - no bathing, no chores, not even accepting phone calls...just Losting. It's easy to do. For Season 2, I literally watched the entire season, back-to-back episodes for like 20-something hours - over a full day. You can't stop. Even if you're tired, the show gets you so amped because there's ALWAYS something crazy happening that shocks the hell out of you.

It's ridiculous...I don't know if I'd recommend for anyone who has problems with addiction.

But yeah. I ordered my season 4, and it arrived yesterday (along with my new Sookie Stackhouse book, which I've already started reading). So now I've got some catching up to do. I'll have family in town for Memorial Day week(end), so as soon as the kiddies go to bed...late night Losting. And I won't stop until I catch up. Which reminds me....I'll need to order season 5 very, very soon.

Simon the Package

For any of you who don’t know me super well – I do most of my shopping online. When buying clothing online, I stick to places where I know my size. For everything else, it’s just so much easier.

You don’t have to talk to people. Some days, I really just don’t want to have to speak to a single person besides those I’ve chosen to have to speak to on a daily basis (even then…I don’t always want to talk to them either). Some days I want to read and watch TV and hang out outside and not utter a single word to anyone…not have to hear anyone’s bitching and whining, not have to engage in all those pre-mapped and unnecessary conversations.

“Hey…how are you?” “Good, how ‘bout yourself?” “Fine. How’s ____?” “_____ is doing really well.” “That’s great.” “Yeah. How’s your job?” “It’s alright. Yours?”

And it goes on like that without anyone really saying anything of any real substance. It’s generally pretty useless, right? Especially when it’s someone we see or talk with regularly. Same. Crap. All. The. Time. Which is why I like to have the occasional day of silence. It’s not because I’m training to be a monk or something. I just need an occasional break. And I’m not trying to act all high and mighty like I don’t initiate those exact same types of conversations. I do. All the time. Anything to avoid awkward silence.

Anyway, I’m getting off my intended topic for today, which is: shipping.

As a frequent online shopper, I get lots and lots of stuff shipped over to me. And let me just say that nothing makes me feel more like an excited little child than waiting to receive my recently-purchased goodies. From the moment I order something until the moment I’m holding it in my hot little hands, it feels just like Christmas - when you ask your parents a thousand times when you can open your presents. It’s a pretty good feeling, that excitement…

…just not when it lasts RIDICULOUSLY LONG! Seriously…I usually just have things shipped standard ground. It’s VERY hit or miss. Sometimes I’m shocked with how quickly I get things. Sometimes (through the technological wonder of package tracking) I find out that it’s been sitting in some warehouse in Dallas for a week and a half.

I realize all companies and government agencies that ship things are probably super efficient, and there are probably lots of variables that I’m unaware of because I don’t work there…but whenever I track a package and realize it hasn’t moved or even been scanned in several days…it sorta makes me wonder.

The poor little box…sitting in a dark corner all alone for days with no sunlight and only water and crusts of bread to survive on (just go with it). I imagine those places being like package prison. The little package (Let’s call him Simon), destined for my loving arms, is locked up for something that’s not his fault. It’s because I refused to pay eighty dollars for express shipping. So he sits, and he waits.

And I sit, and I wait.

Seriously, I understand that they’re probably delivering much more important things than my stupid new Sookie Stackhouse book. I realize they’re under lots of stress. I know Simon isn’t really sitting in there all alone…he’s probably surrounded by others just like him…

But they really need to get him the hell out of Dallas. I need to know what happens between Sookie and Eric!

Poo Styles of the Rich and Famous

I had a Facebook status about this a while back, but as a connoisseur of the disgusting, I figured I should dedicate a full blog entry to this thought:

Celebritity poop.

I am seriously quite curious as to how this works for them. They're always out and about - talk shows, award shows, on the set of a movie or TV show, nightclubs, coffee shops, restaurants, shopping, etc. Yet you never hear stories of any of them totally destroying a bathroom's integrity.

I got a comment in my status entry about how you have to eat enough to have a proper shit. While this may be true, I think most famous people actually eat...but what they eat (and ... let's just say "consume") only adds fuel to my curiosity about this less-than-glamorous topic.

Let's start with the obvious - Gwyneth. On her website, she's always talking about these detoxifying, "cleansing" diets she's on. Basically, these diets entail eating stuff that makes you "shit like a pet coon" as my dad would say, in order to cleanse the colon and make you more energetic and lively. That's great and all...but seriously...if she does these cleanses so much, and probably keeps up with the legumes, bran, leafy greens and stuff. I'm just sayin' - her poops must be epic.

A lot of them are on macrobiotics and other diets like that that involve lots of "cleansing" foods. I wouldn't be able to leave my house.

Then, of course, there's the other side of the celebrity spectrum. Those on the booze and drug diet.

Let me first say that I've followed the good advice of the older, wiser people in my life and have never touched the hard stuff, nor do I ever plan to...but I've lived in a city known for rampant use of hard drugs. I've seen it....I know people that partake, and I've heard plenty of stories about what many of those hard drugs do to the bowels and digestive system, and it ain't pretty.

And even for those of us who haven't experienced that first hand - I think we've all been there after a night of boozing. I won't get too graphic...but y'all know what I mean.

Then the coffee! They are forever photographed with a freakin' latte in their hands. Once again - a main ingredient for an extra large colon jolt.

And finally, the cigarettes. I know not as many celebrities smoke now as they did in years past, especially not when they are going to be photographed, but I'm pretty sure a good number of them still smoke. And nothing kickstarts the bowels like a morning cigarette. Especially when accompanied by coffee.

So how, when you mix the "cleansing" diets, the alcohol, the drugs, the coffee and the cigarettes, are these people not walking doodoo machines? Seriously? How are they not having to #2 every single place they go?

Are there confidentiality agreements involved? "Sorry I bombed your bathroom. Sign this paper please. If you tell anyone about this, I'll see your ass in court." ????

Do they have their assistants pretend to be the offenders? "If you pretend it was you, I'll give you first dibs at the gift tent." ????

Do they leave whatever function they were attending to go to a more secure location to poop?

And don't give me the whole, "Maybe people don't care." or "Maybe people are just too sophisticated to comment on things like that," because that's malarky. We are treated to much more offensive and disgusting information about these people all the time. You're telling me we can all see a shot of Britney's hoo-ha when she gets out of a car, but a story about her dropping a deuce is just too personal and too much to bear?

We can hear Jessica Simpson talk about how she rarely brushes her teeth. We can see hundreds of these people's sex tapes (some of which involve much nastier stuff than a story about pooping in a public bathroom). We can see Fergie's crotch shot from when she allegedly pissed her pants on stage. We can see a photo of Lindsay Lohan, straw in hand, lines on mirror, when she's just missed a court date and, rather than flushing turds, is flushing her life down the toilet. We can watch Kate Gosselin do whatever the hell this is. We can watch Jon Gosselin be Jon Gosselin. And we can see pretty much all the way down into the depths of Paris Hilton's vagina canyon (if we wanted to...which I don't. Hence the lack of link).

Yet, poop stories are unheard of.

I, for one, would rather hear a funny story about a celeb makin' turds than I would see any of the above. But maybe that's just me.

Oldies but Goodies

I've recently had the good fortune to be able to see and hang out with many, many old friends that I hadn't seen in a while.

One of my besties from our pubescent phase came into town for a visit, and because of this, we've had many get-togethers and hang out sessions.

It's always interesting to see people you haven't seen in a long while. There's that initial apprehension - how have they changed? Are they still the same person I knew years ago?

When I was younger, my goal in life was to get the hell out of my small hometown and completely change myself. Meet new, interesting and fabulous people. Go to fancy parties. Become this new person who knew a lot of things and had lots of connections and was artsy and cool. Someone who needed a day planner to keep up with all of my grand social functions. Someone who never had to search for people to do things with.

Well, after being away for a little while, I realized there was nothing wrong with me to begin with. I realized most people kinda suck, and that I already had the best and most wonderful friends in my life that anyone could ever wish for. I realized I always avoided fancy shit because I can't stand it. And I realized that I like days that are completely empty so that I can do absolutely nothing but sit on my ass and watch TV. My life was already as fabulous as I needed it to be...and I may have learned a lot of stuff, but I had absolutely no reason to change...and I didn't really want to.

I don't know...does everyone go through that?

Anyway, like I said...it's interesting to see people you were close to long ago. Fortunately, in my experience, it's usually really pleasant and uplifting. I'm lucky enough that most of my old friends have adapted to life in much the same way as I have. We've gained knowledge. We've grown (both metaphorically and literally, as my ass is probably twice the size it was in high school). But, deep down, most of us are still the same people. We've grown separately of each other, but we can still relate. Still laugh at each other's jokes. Still pick up where our conversation left off so many years ago...and that conversation has just as much meaning and understanding as it did then. It seriously gets me sorta misty to think about it (shut up). Of all the things that happen to us in our lives - our real friends can last forever.

This isn't the case with everyone, obviously. Some people I see again, I have a very hard time reconnecting with. I suppose it's either because they've grown too much, or, perhaps more likely, they've stayed the same while everyone else has grown around them.

It's also always hard to say goodbye to old friends. Especially when you're terrible with goodbyes like I am. I used to cry when my sisters would leave after their weekend visits because I just wanted them to stay. I still cry a little inside every time someone has to leave. I'm that sort of person. I don't ever want those good moments to end, but, of course they inevitably have to. We've all got our separate living to do.

And hopefully, when we meet again, we'll have as much fun as we did this time.

Thank you to all of my awesome friends - old ones, new ones, and ones that are always there. I love you guys.


Ok, I know that's sorta sappy, but it's depressing Sunday and I just watched My Sister's Keeper (I know, I know), so give me a break!

And, in honor of my friends...watch my new favorite Youtube video. Joe Cocker says it all.