Overheard At The SP House On Sunday Night

Have you even gotten out of your pajamas this weekend?

Hey - I took a shower last night.

Then you just put on new pajamas?

You know how I roll.

I Am Very Boring

I'm blaming it on being sick. And I'm blaming being sick for the third time this winter on my office mate's kids going to daycare. That's not really fair, but I'm in a bad mood. And when you take Nyquil at 8:00 pm, you tend to wake up at an ungodly hour the next day where the only thing on TV is Guthy Renker. Whatever the hell that is.

My new favorite person Tracy has tagged me for this, and I can always muster the strength to talk about myself.

Threes

~3 names I answer to:

Cory
Elizabeth (It’s probably someone I don’t want to talk to if they call me by my first name.)
Schmoopie (It all started as a joke from that Seinfeld episode. You can shut up with all the laughing now, and if you know Joe you must never speak of this.)

Names I won’t answer to include “Blondie” and “Yo!” both of which I was called when I waited tables.

~3 parts of your heritage:

Irish
English
German

~3 things that scare me:

Losing a loved one.
Having an incurable disease.
Cockroaches – ever since one flew at my head in a dark room when I was 8. I didn’t know they could fly and I almost wet my pants.

~3 of your everyday essentials:

Laptop with an internet connection.
Cell phone.
A hug, a kiss, and an “I love you” from Joe.

~3 things you are wearing right now:

Pajamas
Those fuzzy socks
A sore throat

~3 of your favorite songs:

Suedehead by Morrissey
The Seed by The Roots
Between the Bars by Elliot Smith

~3 things about the opposite sex that appeal to you:

Eyes
Good sense of humor
That neck smell

~3 things you want in a relationship (other than real love)

Trust
Chemistry
Laughter

~3 of your favorite hobbies:

Shopping
Reading
Watching TV

~3 Places you want to go

Maldives
Bora Bora
Fiji (None of these will probably happen because I can’t be in a plane over the ocean for longer than an hour or two.)

~3 things you want to do before you die:

Have some little kids of my own.
Get a boobie lift.
Get over this fear of flying for 18 straight hours so I vacation someplace cool.

~3 ways that you are stereotypically a female/male:

God, how I love to shop.
I cry often. I don’t even have to be sad.
Half of my wardrobe is in the pink family.

~2 truths and 1 lie (in any order):

I got a 680 on the math portion of the SAT.
I’m a hypochondriac about my health.
I am a horrible procrastinator at work even though it gives me tremendous anxiety. (I challenge you to guess the lie.)

~3 people you would like to take this survey:

Gagi
Kasey
Fightin' Mad Mary
And anyone else I didn't get last time.



Unrelated - I finally found a Paula Deen show and I just learned that Savannah's minor league baseball team is called the "Sand Gnats." How embarrassing. Macon, GA has some team that's called the "Whoopie" (say it out loud--Macon Whoopie). Who thinks of these things? Maybe I'm just bitter because I went from being a tough Bulldog in high school to being a God damned bird in college. Fly little Ospreys, fly!

The Millionth Little Person To Beat This Dead Horse

I’ve finally caved. I’m writing this before watching Oprah today, so I may change my opinion later about the whole thing. But for now I am sick of hearing about how James Frey falsified facts in his book “A Million Little Pieces.” Allow me to illustrate:

1. The Smoking Gun just ruined this man’s career and probably his life too. I recently found out that they’re owned by Court TV, otherwise I have no idea what their motive would be. Did they make money from this whole controversy?

2. People do not solicit Oprah to have their book become part of her book club. She picks them, therefore if she was duped or conned; she needs to take responsibility for it.

3. Who does not embellish when writing? Even if it was all fiction, it still made for a good story.

4. If he was as drunk and high as he claims, it’s amazing that he remembers anything at all from that whole period of his life.

5. His only mistake was saying that the book was 100% true, when in fact he should have said it was “based on a true story,” or that “some of the details had been changed,” etc.

6. I am tired of hearing/reading/seeing this every place I go. Let’s move on to something more important like the sex of Brangelina’s baby, or God forbid a serious topic like the bird flu. We haven’t run that into the ground yet.

7. Why do we live in a society where we strive to humiliate and hurt each other? I bring this up because I’m pretty sure I was called a stupid c*nt by association in the comments section of Christine’s blog. (If the very brave “Anonymous” also reads my blog, (s)he can kiss my natural ass as we say here in the South.)

8. This whole thing has made me so angry that I actually spoke ill of Oprah. That's something only a stupid c*nt would do.

Girl I Must Warn You…

My BFF Christine requested that I tell the story about a notorious urban legend in our home town while we were growing up. There was a boy named Ron Wolfe who went to school in a neighboring town, and rumor had it that he stole someone’s girlfriend, and that someone was good friends with Bel Biv Devoe. (This stuff is highly plausible when you’re 16.) Around that time BBD was putting out an album and they hid a threatening message in that song “Poison.” You know that line that you always thought said “wrong move, you’re dead?” If you listen very closely it clearly says “Ron Wolfe, you’re dead.” Go download it from iTunes right now and tell me it doesn’t say that. I’ll wait.

Ok. One night Alicia and I were at someone’s house doing a bunch of underage drinking and not much else. In walk a couple of guys we didn’t know. We lived in such a small place that there was literally no one we didn’t know, so this was very odd. People started whispering that this was THE Ron Wolfe, he who lived under the constant threat of death by Bel Biv Devoe and probably Bobby Brown too. Someone dared the host to covertly play the tape with the song “Poison” on it. As soon as it came on this guy yelled “Hey! Ron Wolfe – that’s me!” Because we equated him with danger, this scared the shit out of us and the party broke up immediately amid our screams.

Fast forward about 2 years. Christine and I are working at Marineland with a woman named Janet. Janet was looking for a nice young woman to introduce to her son Ron. She chose Christine and pestered her on a weekly basis all summer to meet him. This was never going to happen because a) Christine already had a boyfriend, b) she didn’t want to be in the same room with this woman, much less have her as a future mother-in-law, and c) Ron’s last name was Wolfe. Yes, that Ron Wolfe.

Wrong move, and she'd probably be dead too.

This Post Is Brought To You By PMS

In my oh-so-realistic quest to become a size two before my class reunion, I joined Weight Watchers today. I made a psychologically healthy deal with myself that if I joined WW, I would not have to join Curves gym. Diet or exercise, but not both at once. Not having to get off the couch is my gift to me for having to measure everything I put in my yap. My friend Beverly finds this riotously funny.

I paid my money, then doubled over in pain when I saw how much I weighed. (I was right about those eggnog lattes.) Anyway, I tried my hardest to get my paperwork and get the hell out of there, but the lady made me stay because I had to-HAD TO-learn about the Core Plan, which I have no interest in whatsoever. I ended up staying only after I was told that statistics show that people who attend the meetings lose three times as much weight as those who try to do it on their own. The group leader was not just a Weight Watchers Lifetime Member Meeting Leader, she was Jan Hooks playing a hyperactive, super enthusiastic Weight Watchers Lifetime Member Meeting Leader on Saturday Night Live about 20 years ago.

Great. Now I'm fat AND old. And only one of you will even get the Jan Hooks thing, Christine. And 3x0 still equals 0.

Hey - Guess What Sucks?

Absently stuffing your face with hummus and pita bread while reading your email, then looking at the bread and noticing bluish green mold spots on it. When you were almost finished.

The Chinese are Calling This the Year of the Dog

I however, am calling it the year of laser hair removal. I am so excited and I don't even care how much it will hurt or if I will have to sell my plasma to pay for it. My only concern is that I will just stop short of my eyebrows and the hair on my head.

While doing my research, I learned that "trendy people" are getting their hoo-has shaped into something called a "Flair Do". Kind of like a Brazilian, but not.

Hearts, arrows, lightning bolts, chili peppers, peace signs, stars...Given the limited canvas area, it can’t be too intricate, but we will make every attempt to customize the design if the patient requests it.

First, I don't think that those with a limited canvas area are the same ones seeking laser hair removal, and second, can I request the Mona Lisa? I never want to be the old lady whose pubes are shaped into a downward pointing arrow. Can you imagine when these "trendy people" are 80 years old and have to have their diapers changed by the nursing home staff? They will become living legends, or laughing stocks at the very least.

This Is A Day Late

But unlike most people I did not have the day off. My only consolation was not having to slow down for multiple school zones.

Long ago, and so very far away I was dating the first guy in a long line of dumb asses. We were talking on the phone one night and I asked him if he had Martin Luther King day off from work. He said "I don't think so, I don't work with that many black people." I distinctly remember taking a deep breath and making a conscious effort not to scream into the phone "IT'S A NATIONAL HOLIDAY FOR FUCK'S SAKE! IT'S NOT DECIDED UPON BY THE ETHNICITY OF YOUR COWORKERS."

Yeah, I pretty much knew it was over after that conversation.

I Made a Rather Embarrassing Purchase at the Dollar Tree Today

I had forgotten all about how much Paige Davis annoyed the crap out of me, and how I stopped watching Trading Spaces for that reason alone.

Today I also realized that Rachael Ray is my new Paige Davis. Except that I want to cause Rachael bodily harm, whereas I’d be satisfied with just giving Paige a wedgie or a noogie. Did you ever hear that when you don’t like something about a person it’s because you don’t like that quality in yourself? Since Rachael Ray has been in my face every day for the past two years, I’ve discovered that I hate the following things about myself:

1. I wear a lot of orange and yellow eye shadow.
2. I bite my fork when I eat.
3. I use words like “yummo,” “delish,” “rock on.”
4. I call extra virgin olive oil “evoo.”
5. I’m a perky pain in the ass.

I'm It

I've been tagged by my newest imaginary friend MK. In the words of the owner of my now defunct favorite Chinese restaurant - have an enjoy:

Four jobs you have had:
1) Grocery store cashier
2) Restaurant Server
3) Program Coordinator for Crazy Land
4) Behavior Analyst

Four movies you could watch over and over:
1) Lost In Translation
2) Steel Magnolias
3) Amelie
4) Sixteen Candles

Four places you've lived:
1) Greenwich, CT (4 years)
2) Bunnell, FL (16 years)
3) Tallahassee, FL (9 hellish months)
4) Jacksonville, FL (11 years)

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1) Saturday Night Live
2) Cold Case
3) Grey's Anatomy
4) House

Four places you've been on vacation:
1) Montego Bay, Jamaica
2) Cozumel, Mexico
3) Freeport, Bahamas
4) St. Lucia

Four of your favorite foods:
1) Rice Krispies treats (homemade only)
2) Eggplant parmesan
3) Fruit salad
4) Fried chicken

Four places you'd rather be right now:
1) The Carribean
2) Somewhere with snow
3) My couch
4) My bed

Four sites I visit daily:
1) google.com
2) blogger.com
3) yahoo mail
4) dlisted

Four Bloggers you are tagging:
1) I Want My Candy Back
2) Lukewarm Mama
3) Mainely Stitching
4) Heather (You need an alter ego Heather.)

And anyone else who loves these things as much as I do. I have to go now because linking makes my head hurt.

I've Got Nothing Over Here

So I will share some pictures from my Christmas trip.

This makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time:



Joe's family lives in the really exciting part of the Maryland/Pennsylvania border where they constantly see military police and helicopters circling Camp David. They were once at a park near Camp David and were stopped by someone who told them not to get any closer. Ooh - scary stuff to have snipers watching you. My sister-in-law works at this beautiful restaurant which overlooks a certain unnamed place where the vice president and the underground pentagon are. I was probably not supposed to photograph it, but I like to create drama in my life. No one was sniped in the taking of these photos, and my camera wasn't even confiscated. Good thing, or I would have kicked some MP ass.



Shhh...



They told me this guy was a president, so I took their word for it. Joe took this one and I was quite impressed with his eye for composition:



The End

Someone Should Probably Stop Me

About five years ago I joined Curves gym and had great success. I was dropping inches and pounds on a daily basis. For whatever reason, I decided that this made no sense at all, and I stopped going and resumed eating handfuls of m&m’s on the couch every night.

About two years ago I moved to a new neighborhood and thought that since I had just turned 30 it was time to start worrying about my cholesterol and blood pressure, etc. That’s hilarious when I read that sentence, I kill me. Sometimes my ideas are so grandiose. So I joined a Curves about 3 miles away from my house. Since my problem involves getting to the gym, rather than actually working out, I constantly made excuses about how far away and inconvenient it was. I went twice that year which averages out to $186 a visit. Money well spent, no?

Today I saw that they are opening a new Curves in my Publix plaza which is about 1 mile from my house and on my way home from work. I have no excuse and I’m kind of sick of m&m’s. I’m having more of those grandiose ideas that I will join and magically transform myself into a size 2 by my high school reunion next fall. I haven’t been a size 2 since middle school, but I think it could happen. What?

BUNKO!!!

From time to time I have moments where I realize that I truly am a grown up. An adult even. These incidents knock the wind out of me and usually come in the most random forms. Graduating college and getting a job? Eh. Paying a mortgage? Ok. Getting married? Yeah, I guess so. The things I'm talking about are more like when I get offended by how racy cartoons or prime time TV are, hearing that they're releasing a 20th anniversary edition of Ferris Bueller's Day Off on DVD, or when I think about how old Christine's children are going to be on their next birthdays.

My latest exploit to make me feel all funny inside my tummy is joining a Bunko group. I'm not even sure what the hell Bunko is. I just remember that it's played with dice and that it's what my mom played when I was a kid. For years she hosted it in the summertime and these nights were marked by my father dragging the big TV upstairs to Bridget's and my room, turning on the actual air conditioner*, being forbidden to touch any of the delectable food laid out, and being banished to our room until the last crazy lady left. There was lots of laughter and hoots and hollers and yelling of BUNKO!!! followed by more laughter. Each time this happened, my dad, Bridget, and I would just give each other quizzical looks and shake our heads.

Tonight I will join the ranks of these women screaming their fool heads off while someone's family asks each other "what the fuck?" from the far reaches of the house. It could be worse I guess, at least it's not bridge. Or Mah Jong for that matter.

*Can you believe I grew up with a man who refused to turn on the air conditioner in Florida in the summer and now I'm married to a man who refuses to turn on the heat when there is a hard freeze outside?

***
The funniest thing I heard today was when a coworker told me that there was a sale at Victoria Secretes. Ha ha ha. Maybe I'm the last to hear that one.

***

I make no bones about being a member of Team Anniston and felt personally hurt today when I learned that the black widow is indeed pregnant. Hopefully with hundreds of spider babies. Further proof that the tabloids are always right.

For Sale

2003 Saturn ION Coupe



28,000 miles
Dual airbags
AM/FM stereo with CD player
New tires
Power windows and locks with remote entry
Cruise control

Special Features Include:

A tendency to leave you stranded by the side of the road
The promise of a dead battery any time it has not been driven for 48 hours
Notices of recalls on a semi-annual basis
A pre-existing relationship with a service department who could give a shit
Free car rental allotment each time it is under repair, which averages once per month

Price:

$5.00 US
1 venti decaf latte

Ancestors are Rolling in Their Graves as I Write This

I was born into a long line of Southern women who can co-ok. Yes, cook so well that it's worthy of two syllables. These were and are women who canned their own produce, cooked entire meals without a single measuring cup or spoon, and who would come in at lunchtime from working in the fields and prepare an entire dinner plus a cake.

All of this stopped at my generation. Sure, some of us do cook, but others fight over who gets to bring soda and rolls and paper plates to family dinners.

Biscuits are one of my favorite breakfast foods, but I don't make them because I'm intimidated by anything that has to be made in a "well of flour." I'd rather take a calculus test than try to figure out exactly how much flour goes into the goo, then what to to with the leftover flour well. Do you save it? For the next day? Anyway, I have discovered Publix brand frozen biscuits and my life has improved 10 fold. These are nothing like those disgusting psuedo canned biscuits. These are light and fluffy and I may not be able to tell the difference between them and homemade in a blind taste test. I pop one in the oven before I get in the shower, I slather it with preserves canned by my great aunt, pack it in my purse, then eat it on the way to work. I inhale it in two bites, and then I cry a little. I cry because it was so delicious, and because I didn't make three extras.

I've Sunk to New Lows

Behold my reading material for the plane trip home:


I could blame it on the poor book selection at the little grocery store in Waynesboro, PA, but really the truth is that sometimes I need the trash. I make no excuses for my trashy TV consumption, but I thought my standards were higher in literature. I guess not. Due to my love of lists and my self absorption, I've included the list of books I've read this year (that I can remember). Can you tell I'm influenced by the popular media, attractive covers, Oprah, and what's available available in dollar stores and clearance racks? The books with asterisks are the only ones I can recommend with a clear conscience.

1. Skipping Christmas by John Grisham
2. Citizen Girl by Emma McLaughlin & Nicola Kraus
3. What No One Tells the Bride by Marg Stark
4. At Home in the World by Joyce Maynard
5. Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult
6. The Camera My Mother Gave Me by Susanna Kaysen
7. The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson*
8. Ash Wednesday by Ethan Hawke
9. Another Song About the King by Kathryn Stern
10. The Summer of Us by Holly Chamberlin
11. Carousel of Progress by Katherine Tanney
12. My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult*
13. Everything About Me is Fake…And I’m Perfect by Janice Dickinson
14. Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities by Alexandra Robbins
15. Dry by Augusten Burroughs*
16. Lost in the Forest by Sue Miller*
17. Accidental Happiness by Jean Reynolds Page*
18. The Other Man: A Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr., Carolyn Bessette and Me by Michael Bergin
19. One Small Thing by Jessica Barksdale Inclan
20. Inside the Mind of Scott Peterson by Keith Ablow
21. We Thought You Would by Prettier: True Tales of the Dorkiest Girl Alive by Laurie Notaro
22. A Million Little Pieces by James Frey*
23. The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg*
24. What Remains by Carole Radziwill*
25. My Friend Leonard by James Frey*
26. Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy
27. Weird Florida by Charlie Carlson
28. Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin*
29. PostSecret : Extraordinary Confessions from Ordinary Lives by Frank Warren*
30. Something Blue by Emily Giffin*
31. Prep by Curtis Sittenfield
32. Good Grief by Lolly Winston
33. All He Ever Wanted by Anita Shreve
34. Star by Pamela Anderson
35. Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress by Susan Jane Gilman

If I made New Year's resolutions, one would probably be to produce a less embarrassing reading list in the coming year.