Dear Progresso....

I want to thank you for apparently selling your soul to the darkness in exchange for the recipe to low-fat, low-calorie New England clam chowder. I know that was the only way you were able to create this bowl of steaming creamy goodness and for that I will be forever in your debt.

You might say I am a little bit obsessed with clam chowder. Once I got soaked to the bone in a Virginia squall in exchange for a reputable bowl. I even returned repeatedly to a restaurant that made me sick in the past because their clam chowder was amazing and I refused to believe that it could be the culprit. But even after enjoying the most glorious of chowders, I later suffer from debilitating guilt due to the loaded fat and calories. But what could I do? I had searched for YEARS for a healthy yet decadent tasting clam chowder and always came up short. Well today all that has changed, thanks to you Progresso. I'm not going to say I wasn't skeptical. I mean a chowder that is only 2-points has GOT to be watery, tasteless and probably nothing chowder-like. But within the first taste, angels were dancing on my tongue and I knew my decade-long quest was over. Sorry about your soul, but I know millions will be forever thankful.

Sincerely,

Chowder Power

This time it was me....

I am a pretty good driver, and an even better parker. Working in downtown Salt Lake City for six years has shaped my skills so that I could probably give lessons on parallel parking. Ya, I'm that good. So good in fact that if I have a passenger with me and I am about to parallel park I can confidently say "watch, you'll learn something." And after I execute a perfect three point maneuver, I'm pretty sure they do. I remember back in college one of my friends/neighbors (I won't mention any names, Shinnick) who was the worst parker in the world. On a few occasions when she had parked with her car halfway into the road getting into our complex, I would bust into her apartment and make her go re-park. Call it what you want but when you're the best you expect the best. Well yesterday I had to be at work (a 40 minute drive from my house) at 7:30 a.m. I had had a late night Denny's reunion with some friends I hadn't seen in about 2 days, and was pretty out of it on the morning drive. When I got to the parking lot it was still dark and the lot was empty. I parked and then went to this event thing til the afternoon. When I was walking out to my car to go home, I was hit with a horror I thought I would never experience...... My first thought of course was WHO MOVED MY CAR??! But then reality set in and I understood the truth. That this abomination of a parking job was done with my own two hands (and foot). Me? Not me? I am the parking champion! Always have been. I couldn't have...I wouldn't have... After standing there dumbfounded I squeezed into the drivers side of my car, not before getting my bra under-wire caught on the top of my door, and sat there pondering whether or not I even knew who I was anymore. In time though, I realized it was the gods way of telling me that even legends falter from time to time. But even so, they are still legends.


(Forgive the paranoid blur out of my plates. A few years ago I had some threats, based on someone knowing the details of my car and a toothpick in my pocket, after I wrote a story that apparently upset them. For more details and hilarity on that see Amelia)

One more reason I regret those 46 candy bars I ate on Halloween

If you need motivation to not stuff your face this holiday season....
or
You just want to feel fat
or
You want to see what the Italian looks like that has been known to out-eat Polynesians like its nothing.
or
You want to see what determination, drive, ambition and hotness look in a single package that has taken multiple figure competitions......
I give you Angelina....


PS - Nope. Still can't kick my ass. And the one time when I was sore and sick and coming out of a Nyquil fix in college does NOT count.

$20 if you can sing the theme song to ........

This Halloween I fancied myself as a chubby brown Jem (or Hologram, whatevs)...

...whose boyfriend Robby, was also a rocker.....And then I sexually harassed a gladiator into taking his shirt off........and then made friends with a wolf and an apparently confused and paranoid, sword wielding Marilyn Monroe...