Best gift reaction....

My brother Braden, AKA one of the funniest people I know, has wanted an iPod Touch for about a year or so. It all started when I got my iPhone and every time I was with him he insisted on being my "assistant" and taking my calls and sending texts for me just so he could have its greatness in his little mitts. Well I drew his name for Christmas this year and ended up getting him the Touch. But I sorrowfully told him that times were tough for me this season and not to expect anything amazing, hence his staged over excitement when he initially unwraps it and finds one of my old DH shirts. Hahahaha. If you know Braden you will love this...

Why?

Dear Skinny Guy With The Inappropriately Short Shorts At The Gym Yesterday,

I am going to call you Chad. See reason here. Because Planet Fitness is a "judgment-free zone" I may get in trouble for making this assessment. But I am going to go out on a limb here and say, based on your attire, and the fact that you were wandering around aimlessly for 10 minutes before you annoyingly plopped on the treadmill right next to me, that you aren't really a gym guy. My money says you probably just started going to the gym this week, and maybe yesterday was actually your very first time. I get it. But Chad, you broke some rules. First of all, the staring. Chad. You can't wander around and stare at people as they are working out. I will even give you the benefit of the doubt here and say that you were only staring to maybe learn some things like how to lift a barbell and how to start a treadmill. Sure. But staring is staring. And gym staring is still REALLY frowned upon and you could get punched. I am guessing you probably wouldn't take a punch well. So stop. Secondly, you know how there are unwritten rules about guys in urinals? Well the same concept loosely applies on treadmills. If you have a completely open row of treadmills you don't get on the one RIGHT NEXT to someone. You at least allow one machine in between you. It's about space. And that awkward look that I gave you when you ignored the empty row and got on the one next to me? Yeah, that wasn't because I was going on an incline of six and straining. (I know you probably noticed my speed and incline when you were closely and inappropriately eying my settings after you got on.) That was because I was really bugged and appalled. And finally, Chad, the shorts. Now I don't want to judge your taste in clothes. It is the gym and you should be free to throw on whatever. But the shorts have got to go. Not only did the whites of your guy thighs singe my retinas, but I saw that you headed for the mat after your seven minutes on the treadmill. Chad, I don't know what you were doing on those mats over there but if you laid down or sat down....ummm...I guarantee some things were.....ummm exposed. Nobody wins when that happens, Chad. Nobody. A few more extra inches of fabric would definitely help you side-step traumatizing innocent people who are just wanting to get their stretch on on the mats. Thanks for your cooperation.

Sincerly

The Anti-Guy Thigh Board

I was there...

I had almost forgotten about this game until my little bro showed me this was on youtube. It's been lauded as the best high school basketball game ever played. Ever. The last few seconds of this double over-time championship game my senior year made national news as well as Sports Illustrated seen here. I remember almost passing out from stress and excitement and then my best friend Ange jumping on me at the end screaming "a five-pointer!" True story. The coach summed it up perfectly that year in his yearbook quote: "We made Hoosiers look like a melodrama." Strap in.

I'd rather........

I would rather:
- Stub my pinky toe against a cinder block
- Get a flat tire on the freeway
- Be forced to eat a bite of rare steak
- Watch four back to back CW teen shows
- Roll my ankle (minor)
- and get cavity filled
.....than clean this....

Any volunteers?

Ef

I have never been a subject to rage. Sure things get me ticked once it a while but rarely have a had that vein-popping rage feeling. At least since I lived across the hall from my brother, Trevor, that is. Back then veins were popping, fist were flying and glass was breaking frequently, but I contribute that to uncontrolled adolescent emotion. Nonetheless, a couple nights I thought I was going to have a rage coronary and maybe do some property damage. I was settling down for a luxurious slumber in my new bed, Alejandro, at like 3 a.m, so I was REALLY tired. Anyway just as I was about to slide into dream state I heard a chirp that annoyingly jolted me from my "floating" state. That smoke detector chirp is undeniable but since I had been well on my way to a REM cycle I figured it could have been a dream. I started to slip again...sinking...warmth....then floating...then...CHIRP! DAMMIT!! Not a dream. The thing about my bedroom is there is all these "fun" angles on the ceiling. A lower part you can almost touch, then about a 9 ft part and then half of it is vaulted. And of course, at the top of the vault was where the @#$%! smoke detector was. So in order to reach it I would have to go into the freezing cold garage and get the giant ladder. I had not the will or the strength to do it so I battled sleep all night, and woke up exhausted the next day. Luckily my 6'1" baby brother was staying with me and I made him hop on the giant ladder and get the the thing down and change the battery. And even HE had a hard time reaching it. Well the following night was a late one too. And as I was about to sink into sweet slumber I hear it. CHIRP! #&$@!&*@%#$@!!%@^#%^! I knew it wasn't a dream and all I knew is I wanted it destroyed. Even if I had to put a hole in my ceiling to do it. My brother was gone so even if I wanted to go get the ladder and try to fix it I still wouldn't be able to reach it, since he could barely get to it. In the calms between the fits of rage, I silently pleaded with it to just stop. But then the piercing chirp would sound and the throwing would again commence. I threw pillows, my remote, my water bottle, a camera case and my my yoga ball, but nothing would make it SHUT UP. I tried sleeping in the living room but it was too cold, so I went back to resume battle with the smoke detector. I contemplated setting my room on fire just so the full alarm would go off and I could at least escape the incessant chirping. I contemplated time travel, going back in time and finding the guy that invented smoke detectors and chopping his pinkies off. I think it was probably arm exhaustion that made me finally close my eyes. The next morning I was laying on my side, facing the door, which happens to be the lowest part of the ceiling in my room, when the chirp jolted me awake again. When I opened my eyes the first thing I saw was on that small part of low ceiling, yet another smoke detector, flashing red. It's not like I didn't know it was there. I see it all the time. It's so low it's practically in your face and I can reach it on my tip toes. Of course it was that one that was making the sound, I was just so blinded by rage the night before that logic failed to kick in. It took me about a minute to get that chirper down, and change the battery. I don't think the word "stupid" can even even do this situation justice. How I got a college degree, I will never know.

The gods hate me.

"When life gives you lemons just say F the lemons, and bail"
Forgetting Sarah Marshall


This was how I spent my Thanksgiving morning, missing my 5K and sitting at Salt Lake International while Abigale sat there with what I can only guess is a broken starter. I really caused a scene. Being the "greeny" that I am I opted to turn my car off as I unloaded my sister-in-laws bags so she could get on her flight. After getting back in the car it wouldn't start. Fifteen minutes later Abigale, airport maintenance trucks and a massive tow truck (which you can't see in the pic because it is behind me) effectively blocked three car lanes, backing up Thanksgiving Day traffic for 10 minutes. Awesome. Happy Thanksgiving.

Wait wait wait....it is Thanksgiving....I mean it's no secret that I don't exactly LOVE this holiday, but can I really let it go down like that? Nay. Let's look at the things I am thankful for today:

1) Kick-A friends who at the drop of a hat came to the airport and plucked me out of the humiliation.
2) The fact that I have a car at all, even if she is a jerk to me on holidays.
3) Friendly airport maintenance men who cheerfully tried to help me even though they were deaf to my diagnosis that it WAS NOT THE BATTERY, but the starter, and tried to jump it anyway.
4) The fact I was wearing pants. Had I not been planning on going straight over to the 5K after I had dropped them off, there is a good chance I would be wearing what one friend describes as my "bring-all-the-boys-to-the-yard" green booty shorts and maybe a blanket or a sweatshirt. I live so close to the airport that sometimes I don't even bother to grab shoes.
5) My new bed, Alejandro Fernandez, named because it is as tempting as a seductive Latin lover. Speaking of, I think it's time for a pre-dinner nap.

Team Jakeward - My Twi Confession

So I read a Twilight book... Ok, so I read all of them. It was a journey rife with emotions spanning from self-loathing to addiction to delight. Initially, I wouldn't have touched the books with a 10-foot pole. Then I lost my job and had significantly more time on my hands. Still, committing to 3,000 pages of a brooding teenager with a death wish and a vampire wanting to eat her face was hard to commit to. But finally the peer pressure got to me and I succumbed.

I liken reading the first book to a stereotypical rough first year of a struggling marriage. There was regret. There were thoughts of quitting and in some moments the commitment I made to read it was really the only thing keeping me going. First of all it was beyond redundant. Reading the same things over and over again: how insecure, clumsy and awkward Bella is, her physiologic reactions - i.e. heart pounds, palms sweat, cheeks blush - every time Edward touches her or looks at her blah blah blah.....enough already. We got it the first 37 times. Moreover I was a tad taken aback by the fact that there seemed to be support for the idea that a moody, somewhat controlling stalker for a boyfriend is acceptable. Even if it was all out of love...I've seen that same scenario on Lifetime and on a few after-school specials and it never ends well. And overall, Bella bugged. For me, she was an unlikeable, whiny and brooding protagonist, and frankly the commentary on the plight of the melancholy high school adolescent that feels she doesn't fit in bored me. It's a tired scenario that's been done. About half-way through it I tried to break up with the book all together. But something always pulled me back in (plus I was kind of hoping Bella would die or something in the end so that contributed to me coming back to it) but before long it was over. All in all, it wasn't a bad experience, the writing wasn't anything stellar - easy to see why 5th graders are in love with it. I didn't pull out any profound meaning or literary nuggets to reflect on. But it was an engaging story, even though it was a bit of a slow start.

On to New Moon? Well sure, since my friend had established months before that he planned on dragging me to the New Moon movie opening night, I figured I may as well read it. It wasn't half bad. Not as dull as the first book, though still a little gag me on the lovey crap. Plus I kind of wanted to finally see a little more strength from Bella, but it was more of the whiny, I-can't-breath-without-my-first-love-and-my-life-is-over-and-will-never-be-the-same-again. Ugh. However it was a little more fast-paced and in the end I actually wanted to read the third book, and didn't think twice about the fourth. The third one delivered because there was so much going on that there wasn't time or room for all the annoying crap. The story was fast paced, intricate and a good time. By the end of the fourth book, well I had a change of heart and actually wasn't hoping for her death like in the first book. All in all, would I recommend the read?............yes

HOLD ON!!!
Now before you go rolling your eyes and judging my mental state, may I remind you that I am a lit major as well and have been known to have discriminating tastes in books. But sometimes Steinbeck, Coelho, Morrison and Hosseini need to take a back seat. Plus it was nice to finish a book without being completely wrecked or feeling you have stare at a blank wall for a few days to process all the deep meaning. Trust me. It's ok to have some cake with sprinkles once in a while.

The Movie - New Moon
Yes, I saw it. Yes, it was on opening night, and yes, I was pretty much surrounded by 14 year-old girls and a handful of their moms. Yes, I was embarrassed when I found myself seriously lusting over the 17-year old actor who plays a morphing werewolf and yes, I tried to be one of the first out of the theater so I wouldn't be seen. And finally yes, I could be persuaded to go again with you should you want to see it, providing you are a friend or lover. Call me.

OK

It's been forever. I get it. I fell off the proverbial blog wagon and I am petitioning the blog gods for a pardon. I think it will be granted and they will be a bit more forgiving than my friend Dave who nudged me in the direction of return with this scathing email rebuke.

"This is ridiculous. You have not posted on your blog in nearly two months. Two months! If I tried pulling that, you would be pulling the "broom of pride" out and beating me senseless with it. To make matters worse, you have not been on SKYPE in weeks. You don't write. You don't email. And you sure as hell don't call. When I do call you pass off the phone to someone else. So what am I to do? Well, I will tell you what I did today. I did the rowing machine at the gym for thirty to forty minutes. Tomorrow and into the foreseeable future, I don't plan on shaving. So the next logical step is pretty obvious: find Spokane's version of Martha Shaw."
*Note: If you haven't seen The Notebook, you may not get the references....But then again, if you haven't seen The Notebook you probably don't have a soul.

So thanks for taking me back blog world, lets not be on a break again...

How Twilight really should have gone....

Top o' the world....errr

Dear granola-eating, rock-climbing, thrill-seeking, patchouli-loving friends of mine,

Don't say I've never given rock climbing a chance.

Still not interested.

Sincerely,

The Non-Climbing Heights-Hater.

Awesome

Thanks Doug.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Glenn Beck's Operation
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Spinal Tap Performance

Oh my hells and cow bells

My dad and my brother Jarad, since he was roughly 9 years old, have had these manliness competitions - eg. who can stand the spiciest food, who can lift the most, who can jump the highest on dirt bikes, who can call each other a "woman" (or some variation of that) the most and basically refuse to step down from any challenge. But this week Jarad took it too far. He entered a wild cow riding competition at the county fair. Now I hadn't been to the Cassia County Fair and Rodeo in Idaho for over 10 years, but I knew that it could potentially be bad news given the fact that it would a) require me to go to a rodeo and b) I could potentially have to witness first-hand my bro being hospitalized. When it was all said and done just about both happened, and despite his insistence that "you can't hurt manly steel" I am still not convinced that he doesn't have cracked ribs. You can see why in the video, and he has a hoof print on his chest to prove it. I was also worried that he maybe had a concussion because he said he was dizzy and saw stars and colors for a while after the cow assault. If you can't tell he is the one in the maroon shirt wrestling the cow......strap in...


We were worried for a second...it was a good thing my dad wore his lucky Holstein print hat......


My niece was even wringing her hands...


But he pulled through. Bear in mind these pics are merely an hour after it happened so the black and blueness was yet to set in.


He walked away with with a limp from another hoof coming down on his calf. His "favorite work pants" were ripped and his whole body admittedly ached. But after a few expletives and a couple hours, he was already planning for his next bovine death match. No offense boy, but I probably won't be attending the next one. My ticker can't take it.

Sorry for the ummmm....misunderstanding

I recently returned from my yearly pilgrimage to Carlsbad California. It's been a tradition between me and my bestie for years and includes a luxurious stay in my auntie's massive ocean-front house, a lot of beach time, boogie boarding, shopping and relaxation. Nothing too exciting to report on, but on a drive down PCH from L.A. I saw this restaurant that took me back to a memory that I cannot believe I haven't already shared.
So about two or three years ago two girlfriends and I were in Orange County and met up with some random guys for dinner at this very restaurant. Well there was this guy that I was sitting next to, we'll call him "Chad" since I don't remember his name (Chad is my default guy-name for some reason - no idea why other than in the 6th grade I had an experience of unrequited love with a guy named Chad because he was the only guy that was taller than me in my class. Tragically he liked blonde, pretty, Rachel instead and never gave me the time of day. It probably didn't help that I habitually wore home-made culottes and didn't know how to do my hair.) Anyway this guy at dinner was a nice guy, outgoing and one of those unpredictable personalities that probably made him the life of the party among his friends - the kind of guy that doesn't ask "why" but rather "why not." Well I went ahead and ordered shrimp in this Hollandaise sauce (don't judge my unhealthy choices, I was on vacation). So to eat the shrimp I would kind of put a piece in my mouth, suck the sauce off, bite the tail off, and then pull it out of my mouth and put it on the plate. So by the end of the meal there were a handful of shrimp tails that had been in my mouth sitting on my plate. Well Chad had been gabbing the whole time and apparently not paying attention to how I was eating them. He turned his attention to my plate and the tails and said "You don't eat those?" And before I could say anything he grabbed a bunch of them and PUT THEM IN HIS MOUTH AND ATE THEM. What can you do? It was really too late to say anything, and doing so after the fact would just have invited embarrassment. When he grabbed for the rest of them I figured the damage was already done soooooo....I just let him chow down. Sorry Chad. But thanks for being the highlight of my night.

You're called Suck

Well it's official. I am a failure. I suppose it's not so bad. In fact there is really not much difference between this week and the week before when I wasn't quite yet a bona fide failure. I still get to enjoy life's simple pleasures like a soft cool pillow, a laugh with good friends and Propel. But still, the fact that I couldn't even stick to my laughably simple New Year's Resolutions feels like a slap in the face from my shamed conscience.
It was simple, two goals: don't kill any plants not marked for death and don't have any run-ins with the police. Seven months in and those intentions are dead. So to be fair, I actually did get pulled over a few months back. Call it convenient rationale, but I didn't count it because I felt a) I didn't deserve the ticket and b) the cops were stupid stupid stupid. Since I drive a sometimes shiny red car with sports suspension I feel like I deserved a break or a freebie, if you will, given the fact I am a natural target to law enforcement. So I ignored that one. Well two days ago I got nailed on 900 W. charged with failure to yield (apparently a pedestrian was waiting to cross) and expired tags. Cool. Then to add insult to injury, I bought a lovely and stunning lily this month, named it Sheila, planted it in the front yard, and then it promptly died. So I got nothin' going for me. I mean the year is just half way over. Maybe it's appropriate to make half-year resolutions...maybe not as hard as the original ones. I vow to drink a glass of water every day and maintain a pulse. Good day.

This...is...SPARTA!!!

I had five cats in my backyard. Not the cute kind, but the mangy feral kind that shriek at night and destroy your already fragile hibiscus plant. I had done everything from opening the window and yelling at them to chasing them with brooms. Finally at my breaking point I called animal control and they presented me with the ultimate solution - a fool proof trap to catch them and bring them in. I was elated at first and even anxious for the day they would have a trap available for me. When I got the call a week later that there was one ready I lost my nerve. I knew that the minute I took the cats in they would be euthanized, given the fact they were wild animals. Their deaths would be on my head and I couldn't take it. Fast forward to this week....I was talking to one of my friends who has known me for about six years. We were talking about the cats and then on to people softening in their old age, accusing me of being the poster girl for it. He then revealed to me that my nickname, years ago and unbeknownst to me, was "the General" - short for General Maximus Decimus Meridius (Gladiator 2000). Then he expounded, calling my former self the the "emotional Leonidas of Sparta." Oh, he had a good laugh and then started speculating on what prompted my fall from being compared to ancient war heroes - age, relationships, something in the water etc. He said that me not trucking the cats off to their deaths was truly a milestone and welcomed me to the softer side. Well it's true, I have never really given way to emotional nonsense and I still like to think that I lean to the pragmatic side of life. But really, you nicknaming jerks shouldn't celebrate too much. Just because I didn't cry over spilled milk in my tougher days doesn't mean I would have gleefully Cruella Deville'd neighborhood animals. AND even so, I haven't seen the cats lately which means someone else probably did it, which I have no problem with. Oh and PS - when I see you nicknamers, and you know who you are, please expect a hearty dead leg.

According to Urban Dictionary

Samoans
Sa⋅mo⋅ans [suh-moh-uhnz]
–noun
Large Polynesian people who originally hail from Samoa but can be found in larger numbers throughout New Zealand and Australia. Generally very friendly but only piss them off if you're tired of living

Little Timmy was sick of living, so he went to Auckland to piss off some Samoans

Good Morning Baltimore

Heard standing at the food counter about to pay for my Wendy's breakfast at Baltimore Washington International at 5:47 a.m.

Wendy's manager lady: "That'll be $4.57"

(Her cell phone rings and she answers loudly)

Wendy's manager lady: "You got about 30 minutes to get your sorry a$$ in here!....What time then?.......What?.....8 o' clock?!! $%#& that mother-$#&$*!! I don't need you or your #$&%, don't even bother coming in........Ya, fired.......Notice? You don't get no $%#^& notice! This is your notice mother &@#$!

(hands me my receipt)

Wendy's manager lady: "Have a nice day ma'am"

D.C....still here.

Loves: historic sites, tons of greenery, Georgetown, grits, catfish, Kayla and my Dougy-digs.

Hates: humidity, my hair in the humidity, 85 degrees and humidity, escalators so tall my toes curl.

United at last....



Don't look back...don't look back...don't look back


Washington love

S.......T.......U......P......I......D

Dear Elizabeth Hasselbeck,
I hate your stupid face. On the rare occasion that I watch The View, I only do so with the hope that one of the ladies will break one of their chairs over your head. In fact, I would most likely be willing to give a kidney just to see one of the Viewies Karate chop you in the stomach. (I would give a lung if I could do it myself). I would rather submit to a lengthy root canal procedure than hold two words conference with you. Ever. Please develop an addictive habit that spirals out of control, thus forcing you to leave the entertainment world. Or just kindly leave. Either way.

Sincerely

The Anti-Elizabeth Board


P.S. - You are stupid. And your voice makes my ears hemorrhage.

Book 'em

Yesterday, I really wished I was a friend of mine named Tony Lawrence. I hate kids at the pool. Now I understand that pools, outside of the gym, are pretty much crafted for a child's enjoyment. But that doesn't mean I don't get annoyed when crappy looking little bullies start splashing around, yelling, swearing and no doubt peeing in the pool. Well my good friend Tony shares my sentiment and this week was able to take action in a way that has made me forever wish I could have taken credit for it. Early Monday evening a handful of kids were being rowdy, loud and annoying in the pool, paying no heed to the large sign stating that children under 14 had to be accompanied by an adult. Finally Tony asked a few of them where their parents were, only to be met with the sneering reply "we don't need to have our parents here." Well that didn't sit well with Tony. So after a bit of contemplation, he got out his phone and called the police. A few minutes later two officers showed up at the pool and asked the kids where there parents were. The crappiest of the kids pointed to the oldest among them and said "We don't need them because he is 16." After being asked to confirm his age by the officer, the prepubescent "16 year-old" child responded that he was actually only 11. Within minutes the officers had each kid out of the pool and then escorted them home, having what I can only assume was a spirited chat with the parents. Now I am not a jealous person per se. But I was green with envy at the fact that he was able to take the kind of action I never had the guts to. Nonetheless I will just have to settle for intense admiration. You sang my heart that day, Tony, and I thank you.

Eh..

So I get it. Everyone just LOVES this book. And I can see why. But not because it's a great book, rather the true story it conveys is admirable. I really commend Greg Mortenson for building all those schools for girls in Afghanistan. I think it's great how he got so many people to come together and work for greater good. But I just really couldn't get past his lack of logistical prowess. Ummm how do you not see that you are going to need a way to get building materials to one of the most rural communities on Earth located on the top of the world.... like maybe....a bridge? I was baffled by the fact that it wasn't until he got there, with building materials all loaded up, that it dawned on him that there could be a problem. And what about the fact that he used a typewriter to pen hundreds of sponsorship letters because a computer was completely foreign to him. Ummm, computers were alive and well, even in the early 90s. I remember, I was there. Also, I may not be a relationship expert but when you have a girlfriend and you leave for 3+ months, how can you a) just forget to call her and at least let her know you are alive, and b) be surprised that she is done with you when you get back. Just a few head-scratchers that bugged me. Nonetheless, you're a great guy Greg. Go ahead with your bad self.

Washed Away

Dear Non-Hand Washer at the Gym Last Wednesday,

Your actions, or non-actions rather, have set in motion an emotional spiral to which there may be no recovery. Five years ago I had just gotten home from the gym one night. It had been a back and bicep day, which meant aside from spending some time gripping the sweaty handles of an elliptical machine, I also had my hands on over half a dozen other weight machines and bells. I was tired when I got home and went right to the fridge and grabbed a Propel and an orange. The phone rang and while distracted and talking on the phone I......I....peeled the orange...and..and..I ate it...with my dirty..germy..hands. I didn't realize what I was doing until there was like two pieces left. There was nothing I could do about it. I was haunted for weeks by thoughts of what kinds of horrible germs from dirty hands I had ingested. I was inconsolable in that post-trauma period but realized I had to get past it. My tonic was convenient rational. We are adults. Adults wash their hands, especially at the gym...people clean the weights and handles all then time...my hands weren't that dirty... It took me years to distance myself from that fateful night. I went through denial, grief, acceptance, self-forgiveness and then after a year or so the memory of it retreated to a rarely accessed corner of my mind. Well, Non-Hand Washer, you've really done it this time. I was standing at the mirror braiding my hair when you went into the bathroom stall. I had started the second braid when I heard the toilet flush and I was still there when you walked out and didn't even GLANCE at the sink. As if that didn't jolt me enough, when I walked out you were on the very machine that I had planned on going to first. (I will never touch that machine again.) Aside from the fact that you were wearing a "Planet Fitness" shirt while you were actually at Planet Fitness, you looked normal enough - mid-30s, average ponytail, semi-fit. If you are the face of a non-hand-washer then there could be hundreds of you out there that I am in contact with every day. Moreover the orange incident came screaming back to me in all its horrific glory. All that rational, the forgetting, the making peace with it - it's all un-done. It's as if I ate that orange again that Wednesday afternoon - only worse because now there is the issue of swine flu to contend with. Just know that one of these days your actions, or lack thereof, are going to come back to you 10 fold. Hepatitis, ya heard of it?
Sincerely,

Dirty Hand Victim and Witness

No, I am not dead...

Yeah its been a while and though some of you are hypothesizing that I have abandoned blogging due to an emotional spiral, you can rest easy. It's not so. I am not gonna lie. It's rough out there. Looking for jobs that are few and far between isn't the most fun thing I can think of but there are some little rays of sunshine that come with being home during the day.


Grocery Shopping
Guilty. I shop at Wal-mart, AKA the whore of the Earth. But in the past I have pretty much always gone in the evening, so I thought ridiculously long lines, empty shelves and bad parking spots a mile away just came with the Wal-mart experience. Not so. I went there just the other day and parked right next to the doors. Walked in and....wow. Produce was stacked all nice and neat, they weren't out of my fave granola bars and those shelf stocking guys weren't hogging the aisles with their crates. The best thing was when I went to check out I went right to a line-less register and was so happy I not only greeted her by name but engaged in small talk. Thanks Cheryl, and yes, the store was clean today.

The Gym
There are a lot of moves I am sometimes scared to do at the gym. Like there are a few lifts that maybe I don't look the best at doing eg. doing flies on a isolated bench while crunching at the same time with my legs in the air. Or doing pull ups on the assisted machine that you have to climb up on and risk running out of upper body strength and end up just hanging there love handles dangling and having to call for help while 100 people look on. But during the day when there are like two people at the gym, there is really nothing I won't do. I will even put my earphones in and dance in the circuit room. It's like my own kingdom.

Road Rage
I am always late and I drive a moderately fast car. Therefore, on a number of occasions being late, along with road idiots and the stress of being late, it's a miracle that my nervous system hasn't blown a gasket, or at the very least caused a twitch. Well now I am rarely in a hurry and on more than a few occasions cars are actually passing me, while I am chilling at 65 taking in the scenery. If someone cuts me off I wave at them as if to say "its all good dude I get it."

Cooking
Ummm I have time to cook now. So I try doing it. No follow up here.

New Friends
Shortly after I was exiled from the corporate world I made a promise to myself that I would not become a TV rat. I have actually kept that promise as long as I consider the History channel a new friend rather than a TV channel. It rocks my world, thrills me and chills me all at the same time. I reconcile my addiction with the fact that I watch for education rather than entertainment. Please ask me about Krakatoa, the giant Indonesian caldera that caused mass volcanic devastation in 1883. Or ask whether or not the mysterious animal chupecabre actually exists. Ask me the history of the Oreo cookie, or ask me about how Germanic tribes initiated the eventual fall of the Roman Empire. I can tell you. But don't ask me about rogue waves. They pretty much remain an oceanic mystery.

I got laid.........

"Sometimes, you wake up and you say, 'Man, I didn't have anything to drink last night. I didn't have anything fattening. So why do I want to puke?' Then you realize, 'Oh, that's right.' You start remembering what's going on in your life." -- Vikings coach Mike Tice

Hold the Applause

Dear People Who Clap When Planes Land,
Why.
Since June, I have been on exactly 18 different flights. And during all but three of the landings there was clapping from like four or five of you on each flight. Why? Similarly I take tepid issue with those that clap at movies, but that is at least in a setting of entertainment. I suppose people want to express their delight with the quality of the film. I still don't really get it, yet maybe I somewhat understand the concept. But clapping when the plane lands? You are expressing delight for what...ummm not dying? And if that is the case why don't you clap when you get off buses or trains or when you park your 2002 Chevy Cavalier that you no doubt drive? Ok. Maybe I am being hasty in my assumption. I tend to do that. So maybe you are clapping because the landing was a job well done. Sure. Do you clap when the waiter at TGI Fridays serves you and drops nary a french fry on your lap? NO. That's what you paid them to do. I paid that pilot $178 to get me back to Salt Lake safe and sound and execute an acceptable landing. So he did. End of story. He didn't throw in any aeronautic acrobatics, the flight attendants did not perform. I flew in a plane and didn't die. Didn't even come close to dying (had we come close maybe I would clap.) MOREOVER even if you wanted to give the pilot that extra pat on the back by whacking your carpals together, he can't hear you. However, if you wait about five minutes, you can give him a literal pat on the back when you walk by him at the front of the plane when you leave. You know what? I even bet he'd hug you.

Sincerely,

A Logical Non-Clapper

More unsolved mysteries - rated PG-13

A few strange and uncanny things have happened over the past week or so. In this picture below, I give you a purple cake sprinkle that mysteriously appeared on my desk this morning. Now, yes, last night I was indeed decorating a cake. Furthermore, yes I did use sprinkles. But because I only wanted the sprinkles in very specific spots on the cake, I opted two pour them in mini proportions into my hand and toss them onto these specified areas of the cake by hand. So it’s conceivable that the sprinkles might have been in my hair, bra, shirt, pockets etc. But please tell me, I beg of you, how that purple sprinkle managed two stow away on my person, for over 18 hours, surviving a shower and a night’s sleep to eventually end up on my desk at work.

Secondly, forgive the lack in propriety, but you are looking at my torso after I undressed to my brown and tan striped unders after coming home from a party that night. I was worried because I thought I lost $20 from the pocket of my jeans because at the party there was a lot of dancing and moving and my pockets were shallow. So I just figured the cash had fallen out. Nope. There it was, stashed in my knickers like a stripper. Please explain this to me if you have the answer, or at best, a theory.

Geezery

I have never really freaked out about getting older. I graduated from college a tad earlier than most of my friends so I was one of the younger ones in my higher college courses, plus I was the youngest at my job while I was in college and the youngest in my college internship. Then when graduating and going to work at the paper in SLC I was the youngest there for a few years, and then when I was pushed out of that role I became a part of a group that was identified and treated as the "young journalists." From the minute I graduated college up until I hit 26 I found myself lying about my age to sources and professional acquaintances to increase my years, and thus, increase my credibility (yes, I had people ask my age. A lot.) And now, at my latest job, again, I am the youngest in my department. So feeling old has never really been an issue for me. But lately, despite my long tenure as the "young one," I have started to recognize tell tale signs that I am still well on my way to Ensure and Depends.


I listen to news and talk radio more than I listen to music in the car
I don't get boys wearing skinny jeans
I judge people that dye their hair wild colors
I think 97.6 percent of high school kids these days look like they just got out of bed and might smell a little.
I have wanted to yell, when looking at a group of boys/young men, "Pull your pants up, you hoodlums!"
I consider it a late night if I am not in bed by midnight.
When asked why I don't want to go out on a given night, I now feel that "because I went out last night" should be a viable excuse
I have found myself devoting significant thought to the weather strip, or lack thereof, on my front door, cleaning out vents, tire pressure, UV rays, lawn fertilizer, air quality and house plant health.
I insist those who ride with me wear a seat belt because I am carrying precious cargo.
I care about things like fiber, antioxidants and triglycerides.
I know more high school teachers than I know high school students.
I refer to my bum ankle as "an old college injury."
I have hesitated doing trampoline flips because I don't want to hurt myself.
I get ready in the morning to the sound of news anchor banter instead of Beyonce
I have forgotten the names of people I went to high school with that were my friends.
I fully plan on being her in the not so far future....

A PSA.........Your Welcome

If you leave six eggs in shallow water, boiling on the stove and then go into your room and start watching Seinfeld, and then get sidetracked by a call from a good friend that you haven't talked to for a while, and then subsequently ignore a mysterious unpleasant smell wafting into your room... a few things may or may not happen. 1) All but two of the eggs will blow up and it will sound like someone is firing a gun in your house. 2) After the explosions start, it's probably not a good idea to come near the stove because there will be harmful flying debris. 3) Those who are within a 15 feet radius will get egg in their hair. 4) Your roommate's boyfriend will come flying downstairs ready to take down an intruder with a gun. 5) You will be cleaning egg off of ceilings and vaulted ceilings alike for a week. 6) Your roommates, and all others involved, will put a moratorium on you cooking in your own kitchen, and you may or may not be ridiculed forever.

Session Memories

There are times when I really miss being a reporter - the action, the camaraderie, the writing etc. But then I came across this picture which was probably just a few weeks shy of two years ago. This was how fellow reporter Erin and I chose to spend a brief lunch hour after a particularly grueling morning late in the 45 days of hell also known as the Legislature. Luckily I lived near the Capitol so we went straight from the Senate gallery to the bed. The only thing I really remember about that nap is how badly I didn't want to get up..and Erin standing there, seven months pregnant coaxing me out of bed, back into the heels, back into the freezing and inversion-wrought air and back to the endless meetings and mind numbing debates. A bended knee to those valiant few who remain in the race. You're of strong matter. Good game.

Last words from the Samsungs

So I was on T-mobile.com the other day, something I try to avoid since international calls on a whim have wreaked havoc on my phone bill, and I ran across a little time capsule. I have been a loyal T-mobile customer since 2001 - a fact, I am told when I call them, that they appreciate. And I, in turn, appreciate that acknowledgment so much that it is one of my top reasons for not switching services. So anyway I went to this button that said "my album" and all these random pictures came up that were taken from phones past (I have probably been through like 10 phones in the last five years thanks to shallow pockets, washing machines and boyfriends). Apparently some of the pictures taken with my phones were sent to this album, and they brought back a lot of fond memories. Okay maybe not fond but pleasant. If you are some of the people in these photos that would object to having them posted despite how funny it is, be a good sport....I think you know who you are...

A house dress that was a gift from a family member who apparently thought a) I wore housedresses and b) thought I weighed 582 lbs. They probably could have fit yet another person in there. Thanks for modeling Court, Jen

The plant I kept alive the longest - bought it back in '04...it only died because I kept it outside during the winter of '07

My mom chillin on the patio after I first moved into my house

My purple room in the condo. My want-to-have-a-purple-princess-room phase hit a little late.

If I recall correctly I was supposed to be flying to Atlanta and I took a large dose of Dramamine before I went to the airport, but then opted to take a later flight since it was over-sold. Nonetheless the pills kicked in and I was out. I think Courtney, who brought me back from the airport, wanted to document my "erroneous drug use." But excuuuuussse me for not wanting to be conscious for the five hours I am forced to breath someone else's air. Plus I stick to my assertion that 7 out of 10 airplane cabins have a faint and subtle smell of poo.

Dinner with Doug and the girls somewhere.

No comment


The San Antonio Riverwalk on my first business trip/honeymoon with myself

Baby brother before he lost his baby fat and became a bean pole

Ange and I at Dee's after clubbin back in the day. We would probably break a hip now....holla

Loa back when he was popped collar cool

Hilarious....

"I was in Washington State, at a small-town YMCA, when a boy wandered into the lap lane and popped his head, seal-like, out of the water. I would later learn that he was nine, but at the time he was just this kid, slightly pudgy, with a stern haircut. It's like he went to a barbershop with a picture of Hitler, that's how severe it was. We got to talking, and when I told him I wasn't a very good swimmer, he challenged me to a race. I think he assumed that, like most adults, I'd slow down and intentionally let him win, but he didn't know who he was dealing with. I need all the confidence I can get, and one victory is just as good as any other. Thus I swam for my very life and beat the pants off him. I thought this was it - he'd accept his defeat and move on with his life - but five minutes later he stopped me again and asked me if I believed in God. "No," I told him. "Why?" I thought for a second. Because I have hair on my back, and a lot of other people, people who kill and rob and make life miserable, don't. A real God wouldn't let that happen."
— David Sedaris

Water works

So I have a friend who was thrown off a horse and among some cracked ribs and bumps and bruises, she knocked her head really bad. This said friend claims that since the incident she is much more emotional, as if something was knocked loose in her mind and now she is all of a sudden more easily touched. Incredibly random things now make her cry and she answers our incredulous looks of inquiry with a shrugged "I cry now." Not to cast aside her theory of the horse incident putting her tear ducts in high gear, but I think it is age. Growing up I can only remember seeing my father cry twice. Now he cries relatively often and I am told he even has shed a tear in movies like Disney's, "The Parent Trap." I don't identify myself as a crier but I am going to document the things that make me cry now and then check back in 3 years and see if that list has grown. To date what makes me cry is:

- "You Raised Me Up" put to just about any slide show or video. Alone the song could be described as unremarkable but put it to a graduation video, something portraying a triumph, or even a slide show of you favorite cats, I will bawl.
- Sunday morning Feed the Children Infomercials. Gets me every time.
- The end of The Little Mermaid, after Ariel gets married and says goodbye to King Triton.
- Watching any event in the Special Olympics
- The movies Armageddon, The Green Mile, Seven Pounds, Charlie, Evita and Antwone Fisher - I am yet to watch with out Niagra.
- The end of the book The Kite Runner
- History Channel programs on Martin Luther King Day
- Any Extreme Home Makeover show
- The thought of my neighbor's St. Bernard, Jake, dying. It hit me once when I was doing yard work in the front yard and he was hanging out with me and pushing me over.
- And finally....this video, introduced to me by one of my happy thoughts, Doug. I can make it about a third of the way through before the tears come. Don't ask me the reason, I have no idea why.

New Years Resolutions: Why I kick a$$ at them

Well another great birthday has come and gone. And as each birthday comes and goes not only do I find myself closer to rollin in a rascal, wearing bright colored sweats and living off the government, but I also am hit with the reality of how awesome my friends are. This year I had a birthday weekend, not just a day, and I am thinking it is a perfect start to what I believe is going to be a great year. So it's time to set some resolutions.
Last year, if you recall, my New Years resolutions were to keep my upstairs plant alive and use my blinker at all times. The idea was to set achievable resolutions so I could end the year with a sense of accomplishment rather than ending the year with broken resolutions and feelings of inadequacy - like the year I wanted to learn a language, take a third world humanitarian trip, lose 420 lbs and remodel my back yard. Ya, didn't even come close. But this year I succeeded in both of those resolutions. I blinked every time I made a turn - religiously. But I was pulled over six times for speeding, license plate and other various violations along with three parking infractions. I did indeed keep the upstairs plant alive - in fact it is in its third round of blooming. Even so, I killed four other inside plants and two, possibly three outside plants. Nonetheless that resolution methodology had the adverse desired effect, especially in 2008 aka the worst @#$%*& year of my #$@^# life. I have railed against it for months. But ending the year with that kind of disdain will only put a dark cloud over the beginning of this year. So to avoid the thunder I figure I need to only reflect on the positive things that came out of the #$%@! year 2008.

- I got a new great job that allowed me the means and time to go on two dream vacations to the Pacific
- I discovered Special K chocolate cereal
- Out of the six times I got pulled over I only got 3 tickets
- My home warranty yielded me a shiny new stove for free
- I racked up some hefty frequent flyer miles
- At work was moved from a small cubicle to a larger, freshly painted cube
- I only rolled my ankle once this year
- I was cavity free
- On at least three or more occasions I found forgotten cash, $20 or more,in my clothing pockets
- Josh, the contender I picked to win from the very beginning, won So You Think You Can Dance
- I discovered a knock-off conditioner which is way cheaper than my name brand expensive product but just as good.
- I followed through with all of my New Year’s resolutions
I am sure there are other positive nuggets, though they aren't immediately coming to me. That being said I am going to start the New Year off right and make my resolutions a little more lofty. I hereby vow not to kill ANY plants that I own, AND avoid moving violations all together thus staying off the radar of law enforcement.....oh what the heck. I'll add one more. I also vow to drink at least four glasses of water a day. (It may not be 8 but it's a improvement). Check back with me in a year. I am tasting victory already.

Slackin...

I know I know. Its been forever...about two months. Things have been crazy and I have been a slacker. In my defense I write a couple blogs a week in my head. So here's the deal. I went back to the islands for Christmas and New Years. It was warm, green and I again got to explore the deep blue. This time we actually had an underwater camera. But when I got back home it claimed there was no photos taken. Bummer. I got some sun burns the first day that lead me, for first time in my life, to use sunscreen and even today my forearms still look like I have a skin disease. One day I actually fell asleep after coming back from snorkeling and didn't lather up. If it wasn't for this heinous disgusting worm/caterpillar/centipede crawling across my face and waking me up the burn on my arms could have been a lot worse. Since it was my second go-round there in the space of a few months we didn't take as many pics except for the few days we spent at Fafa resort aka Paradise. We had our own little coconut cottage right on the beach. Anyway here are some pics.