Happy "National Parfait" day. It feels like decades, since I had a parfait. Does anyone even make them anymore, or has the sundae won the survival of the ice cream fittest? Maybe it's the whipped cream that gives the sundae the upper hand? One can only hypothesize...
Update!
Carl-E is not broke; yippy! This morning, we took a field trip to the Orthopedic doctor's office. The doc gave him the thumbs up and told him to to try to run in four weeks. I am so happy that I do not have to return Carl-E to the husband store. But, if I did have to return him, thank goodness he broke before the ten year warranty is up! (NOTE: My expires in May). I really do not want to train another husband; it is so draining!
Anywho...
While waiting to see the doctor, they was a VERY LOUD CELL PHONE TALKER. I now know more about her life than I do some of my family memebers. Let me share with my newly aquired knowledge with you:
- She is loaning her home to a friend to Thanksgiving (NOTE: Why, I do not know), and the friend's parents are sleeping in her bed for Thanksgiving
- She is lending out table linens to a different friends, because the friend does not have enough to set all her tables
- Her daugther is going through the application process of being excepted to summer camp, and she hopes that she gets in so she does not cry about it
- One of the Tunner (as in Ted) offspring did not grow up in a "green" house as she claims in a magazine article
- Another Tunner used to steal her ballet slippers when she was a girl
- She attend private school with the Tunner kids
- Her best friend appeared in local magazine and to her it appears her BFF was photo shopped, because she looks to "glowy"
- Two of her friends are algeric to morphine
- She is going to Dubai with her husband and another couple, and after a week the husbands are leaving and her and then friends get to play for a week
- She had her nails done because she could not stand the sight of her hands
Do not now feel complete?! Tonight you shall sleep like a baby and dream of unicorns frolicking in an enchanted forest while fairies sprinkling magical fairy dust, and gnomes play the pan flute.
Now, tators I hope you have a fabu Thanksgiving. Here a few things that I am thankful for; they are not the obvious, such as family, friends (NOTE: I am terrible thankfull for all of you), because I feel that the little things get taken advantage of. So, here is my 411:
- Advil
- Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back"
- Flat iron
- Gel ink pens
- Dryer sheets
- Fabreeze
- Cadbury cream eggs
- Coke Zero
- The color pink
- Rhinestones
- Stickers
- Bendy straws
- Plastic
- Lint rollers
- Flannel
- Prescription meds
- Adult beverages
AND...
LV!
And, that's how I roll!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
November 24: Pop Goes Carl-E!
Happy "Use Even If Seal Is Broken" day, tators! So, take that risk and dig in! Life ain't worth living if you do not live it on the edge!
Well, tators my husband is not the man of steal, I thought he was and this was proven this weekend.
So, let's dive right in, shall we?!
As many of you know, Carl-E and I rock climb both the plastic man-made walls that will never ever disintegrate and inhabit our landfills long after we are dust, and the natural walls so artistically sculpted by Mother Nature's own delicate hand. This weekend, Carl-E and I packed the x5 and headed to Tennessee to climb. We were so ecstatic because we were going to climb for a whole weekend. Last time we were scheduled to climb a whole weekend, Margerine decided to stay, oh an extra 6 days and that plan was shot to H-E-double hockey sticks!
Anywho...
It was colder than a witch's boobie, and the first route was murderous. The rock was frozen, as in ice, ice, baby! Now, when you climb, gloves are a "No! No!" because you need to feel the rock. But, I was not feeling much because my fingers were frozen like yummy-in-your-tummy cream sickles. Now, if this was how the day was going to go, I was not going to be a willing participant! Our guide must of sensed my displeasure (Note: Or, it could of been the fact that I kept repeating how I could not feel anything below my wrists!)
So...
We moved to a wall that was in the glorious sunshine! It was still cold (NOTE: It was only 32 out), but no where near as sub-zero as the other wall. We commenced to climb, and I did quiet well, I must say. We were on our next to last route; a real bee-otch! It has a really hard start and a dozy of a 20 foot vertical crack. I tried, but the wall kicked my Jersey tush! I went about 3/4 quarters of the way up the crack and ran out of go-go juice. Carl-E was next.
The light is near...
So, Carl-E is struggling to get past the first 15 feet of the wall. The start of this route is as mean as a pack of 13 year-old girls. At one part you have to stem the wall; in tator terms: Imagine, if you will, a corner were two sides of a wall meet, you put one leg on side of the wall, and straddle the other leg to the other side of the wall, so you look like you are doing a split. Now, Carl-E is not that flexible, and stemming is not on his list of fav things to do. But, tators I tell you I was so impressed with his stemming. I had never seen him so flexible, and then Carl-E fell like Humpty Dumpty!
Almost to the end...
When we lowered him down, Carl-E was yelling that he broke his leg. "Oh S*&T!" I was thinking. But then, we realized that his popped his knee out. It looked like someone put a grapefruit under his skin! Our guide popped it back in. Now, Carl-E is on couch duty for a week, and we cannot go to Helen Ellen's for Turkey day.
Well, I did not really want to go to her house, so if I look on the bright side of things, now I do not have to; YIPPY!
Whistle while you twork!
And, I out!
Oh, for thoes of you that will be consuming large amount of food with family that you loath more than the OBGYN, please do not get PRE-WASTED.
Pre-wasted:
Attempting to just have a couple drinks in the spirit of simply preparing one's self for a possible uncomfortable situation, but instead getting completely tankedbefore even leaving for your in-laws.
Well, tators my husband is not the man of steal, I thought he was and this was proven this weekend.
So, let's dive right in, shall we?!
As many of you know, Carl-E and I rock climb both the plastic man-made walls that will never ever disintegrate and inhabit our landfills long after we are dust, and the natural walls so artistically sculpted by Mother Nature's own delicate hand. This weekend, Carl-E and I packed the x5 and headed to Tennessee to climb. We were so ecstatic because we were going to climb for a whole weekend. Last time we were scheduled to climb a whole weekend, Margerine decided to stay, oh an extra 6 days and that plan was shot to H-E-double hockey sticks!
Anywho...
It was colder than a witch's boobie, and the first route was murderous. The rock was frozen, as in ice, ice, baby! Now, when you climb, gloves are a "No! No!" because you need to feel the rock. But, I was not feeling much because my fingers were frozen like yummy-in-your-tummy cream sickles. Now, if this was how the day was going to go, I was not going to be a willing participant! Our guide must of sensed my displeasure (Note: Or, it could of been the fact that I kept repeating how I could not feel anything below my wrists!)
So...
We moved to a wall that was in the glorious sunshine! It was still cold (NOTE: It was only 32 out), but no where near as sub-zero as the other wall. We commenced to climb, and I did quiet well, I must say. We were on our next to last route; a real bee-otch! It has a really hard start and a dozy of a 20 foot vertical crack. I tried, but the wall kicked my Jersey tush! I went about 3/4 quarters of the way up the crack and ran out of go-go juice. Carl-E was next.
The light is near...
So, Carl-E is struggling to get past the first 15 feet of the wall. The start of this route is as mean as a pack of 13 year-old girls. At one part you have to stem the wall; in tator terms: Imagine, if you will, a corner were two sides of a wall meet, you put one leg on side of the wall, and straddle the other leg to the other side of the wall, so you look like you are doing a split. Now, Carl-E is not that flexible, and stemming is not on his list of fav things to do. But, tators I tell you I was so impressed with his stemming. I had never seen him so flexible, and then Carl-E fell like Humpty Dumpty!
Almost to the end...
When we lowered him down, Carl-E was yelling that he broke his leg. "Oh S*&T!" I was thinking. But then, we realized that his popped his knee out. It looked like someone put a grapefruit under his skin! Our guide popped it back in. Now, Carl-E is on couch duty for a week, and we cannot go to Helen Ellen's for Turkey day.
Well, I did not really want to go to her house, so if I look on the bright side of things, now I do not have to; YIPPY!
Whistle while you twork!
And, I out!
Oh, for thoes of you that will be consuming large amount of food with family that you loath more than the OBGYN, please do not get PRE-WASTED.
Pre-wasted:
Attempting to just have a couple drinks in the spirit of simply preparing one's self for a possible uncomfortable situation, but instead getting completely tankedbefore even leaving for your in-laws.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
November 18: Lint 2
Greetings from the icebox that is my humble abode, tators! I am typing furiously to keep the blood flowing in my on the verge of frost bite fingers. I am about to go into my dirt cellar and break our my rated 0 degree down parka; it is that m-f'in cold. It is almost too cold to be cute! Can you beleive?!
Well, today is national Occult Day. So, burn some black candles, draw a pentagram on your floor, and put on some Sioux and the Banshees and do a little demonic dance! (NOTE: Please forgo the token animal, virgin, or small child sacrifice; it can be a bit too messy!)
Let's travel on...
Well, I have fabu news! After search the internet feveriously, combing throw page after page of Google results, I located Astrid! This is bigger than the finding the terra cotta warriers, King Tut's tomb, the holy grail, and Davey Jone's locker, all wrapped up and presented with a big, pink, organiza bow under my bed! Astrid is every thing and more. She is 7" tall of spotted fierceness, and comes with a bad ass jammy to put a cap in a poacher's ass! I L-O-V-E HER!
Speakin' of the boy king, King Tut...
I went to the King Tut exhibition today with one of my work-out partners. It was so phenomenal. But, I need to tell you about our greeter. He was by far, the hit of the exhibition.
So let me paint you a picture...
When you enter the exhibition, you enter a dimly lit room that has three flat screen tvs. Now, we went early, so it was only two of us in this vast room. Actually, I felt just a tad bit awkward standing in the middle of this large empty room. While waiting for the video, I began to do the uncomfortable weight shifting from leg to leg dance (NOTE: I know, you know which dance I am talking about!).
However...
Before the video began, a young man emerged from a dark corner, raised his arms in front of him in a "Welcome my friends" fashion. A spot light clicked on and illuminated his, big Kool-Aid grin face, and then he belted out, "Welcome ladies, to King Tut!" I almost expect for the sound of voices to sing that angelic/heavenly canned movie music, "Ahh Ahh Ah!" This guy was so into it, I would of swore he was going to slip in to a Shakespearean dialog from "Macbeth" or maybe a Abba tune from "Mama Mia" complete with jazz hands! He continue his dialog with his bright, gleaming choppers. When he finished, I wanted to do a golf clap, and let him bow. He was magnificent. I can imagine him practicing his form over and over again in his mirror! He had to be an out-of-work actor, because he performed as if his Oscar nomination was totally weighing on this one run through.
On the other side...
I swam today. Everyone was inside, oh because outside it was Antarctica cold (NOTE: Ya know opposite of Africa hot!). Now, I have no problem swimming in a group, but the "Lady" does. I knew there would be drama. However, your chickie sucked it up and decided that I would be a "the glass is half-full" gal and not let her ruin my workout with her bitching and moaning. After our warm up, and first exercise, we had to start our laps. There were four of us in the lane (NOTE: One of the people was Carl-E, but he has not graduated to a full work out; basically we all ignored him while we did our laps; poor Carl-e he's too slow!).
Anywho...
Let's call him "Dad;" he was our fearless leader. Next, was Lady, then your dime, and turtle Carl-E. Dad took off, then lady, and then me. Within a few second I was at her feet. Now, I know that I said I would be sugar, spice, and everything nice, but I could not resist; I hit her foot. And guess what? She went faster! Next time I caught up to her, I hit her foot again, and away she went. After the first 200, she was huffing and puffing and complaining about how she could not breath. Dad ignored her whining, and away he went to start the second 200.
Well...
Half way through the second 200, Dad fell short of breath, so he began to walk the lap rather than swim. Well, Lady stopped, causing me to stop, and Carl-E was way back lost in our dust. I ask her what was wrong, and she tares into a tizzy about how Dad cut the lane, was not a good leader, too many people were inside, blah, blah, blah. I just stood there while she ran her mouth. Finally I said, "Are we going to swim or stand?" And with that, she took off. Let's just say for the rest of the workout, I kept hitting her foot and kept her tush in motion!
Do an old school dance!
Catch you on the flip side!
Jammy
A gun; old school term
Well, today is national Occult Day. So, burn some black candles, draw a pentagram on your floor, and put on some Sioux and the Banshees and do a little demonic dance! (NOTE: Please forgo the token animal, virgin, or small child sacrifice; it can be a bit too messy!)
Let's travel on...
Well, I have fabu news! After search the internet feveriously, combing throw page after page of Google results, I located Astrid! This is bigger than the finding the terra cotta warriers, King Tut's tomb, the holy grail, and Davey Jone's locker, all wrapped up and presented with a big, pink, organiza bow under my bed! Astrid is every thing and more. She is 7" tall of spotted fierceness, and comes with a bad ass jammy to put a cap in a poacher's ass! I L-O-V-E HER!
Speakin' of the boy king, King Tut...
I went to the King Tut exhibition today with one of my work-out partners. It was so phenomenal. But, I need to tell you about our greeter. He was by far, the hit of the exhibition.
So let me paint you a picture...
When you enter the exhibition, you enter a dimly lit room that has three flat screen tvs. Now, we went early, so it was only two of us in this vast room. Actually, I felt just a tad bit awkward standing in the middle of this large empty room. While waiting for the video, I began to do the uncomfortable weight shifting from leg to leg dance (NOTE: I know, you know which dance I am talking about!).
However...
Before the video began, a young man emerged from a dark corner, raised his arms in front of him in a "Welcome my friends" fashion. A spot light clicked on and illuminated his, big Kool-Aid grin face, and then he belted out, "Welcome ladies, to King Tut!" I almost expect for the sound of voices to sing that angelic/heavenly canned movie music, "Ahh Ahh Ah!" This guy was so into it, I would of swore he was going to slip in to a Shakespearean dialog from "Macbeth" or maybe a Abba tune from "Mama Mia" complete with jazz hands! He continue his dialog with his bright, gleaming choppers. When he finished, I wanted to do a golf clap, and let him bow. He was magnificent. I can imagine him practicing his form over and over again in his mirror! He had to be an out-of-work actor, because he performed as if his Oscar nomination was totally weighing on this one run through.
On the other side...
I swam today. Everyone was inside, oh because outside it was Antarctica cold (NOTE: Ya know opposite of Africa hot!). Now, I have no problem swimming in a group, but the "Lady" does. I knew there would be drama. However, your chickie sucked it up and decided that I would be a "the glass is half-full" gal and not let her ruin my workout with her bitching and moaning. After our warm up, and first exercise, we had to start our laps. There were four of us in the lane (NOTE: One of the people was Carl-E, but he has not graduated to a full work out; basically we all ignored him while we did our laps; poor Carl-e he's too slow!).
Anywho...
Let's call him "Dad;" he was our fearless leader. Next, was Lady, then your dime, and turtle Carl-E. Dad took off, then lady, and then me. Within a few second I was at her feet. Now, I know that I said I would be sugar, spice, and everything nice, but I could not resist; I hit her foot. And guess what? She went faster! Next time I caught up to her, I hit her foot again, and away she went. After the first 200, she was huffing and puffing and complaining about how she could not breath. Dad ignored her whining, and away he went to start the second 200.
Well...
Half way through the second 200, Dad fell short of breath, so he began to walk the lap rather than swim. Well, Lady stopped, causing me to stop, and Carl-E was way back lost in our dust. I ask her what was wrong, and she tares into a tizzy about how Dad cut the lane, was not a good leader, too many people were inside, blah, blah, blah. I just stood there while she ran her mouth. Finally I said, "Are we going to swim or stand?" And with that, she took off. Let's just say for the rest of the workout, I kept hitting her foot and kept her tush in motion!
Do an old school dance!
Catch you on the flip side!
Jammy
A gun; old school term
Saturday, November 15, 2008
November 15: Observin' The Mating Ritual
Happy "National Clean Out Your Refrigerator Day," Tators! However, because I have to yet again conquer the laundry monster that has taken up residence by my Whirlpool washing machine, I cannot observe this day. But, since Carl-E will not, positively, absolutely, anytime, anywhere consume a left-over, my fridge is pretty much empty, except for Parmesan cheese, ketchup, chocolate chip low-fat cookies, six pack of Fosters, and a bag of spinach.
So...
Thursday evening, Carl-E and I attended a casual semi-work related function at a local cigar bar. I was very excited, since I had a hankering for a favored martini and I was jonesin' to got out and be social. When we arrived, the place was jumpin'. There were all shapes and sizes of cubical dwellers. We met up with some of Carl-E's employees, and began to chat it up.
Well...
About an hour in to the night, and one and half pear-berry yummy martinis, I was approached by this chickie. She grabs my arm, and whispers to me in her loudest, beer infused voice possible, "My friends want to meet your cute friends." Upon inspection and observation, I really doubt that her eyes were naturally crossed, and that she spoke with a slight slur. Or, maybe she was dropped on her head several times as an infant, your guess is as good as mine.
Anywho...
She was nice enough despite being a way too close talker, so I agreed to introduce everyone; except for Carl-E (NOTE: I explained in my best nice-Jersey girl wearing a large gleaming smile, that Carl-E was my boo and that if any ho' tried to spit game at him, they would get bee-otched slapped like a step-child) She got the hint VERY clear.
Next...
While everyone is conversing, I get pulled from the group by the drunk girl. She yells at me, "I need to talk to you, follow me." Before I could protest, she grabs my hand and, we go to the Ladies' room. She shuts the door (NOTE: It was one of those one-at-a-time jobs). Now that there is no noise, she whispered in a barely audible voice, "This guy came up to me and said, 'I think we would have great sex.' What should I do?" I quickly came back with , "Well, is he hot?" She replied, "No." To this I shared my infinite wisdom, "Then there is no problem." It was like light bulb clicked, she glared at me with those glassy, crossed-eyes and whispered, "You're so right!" and with that, she dropped trou and proceeded to pee. How do I get myself into these situations?
After...
My confereance in the WC, I returned to my table. Not even five minutes back, when I feel myself being jerked towards the door by guess who. "OK," she slurred with just the right touch of spittle, "You see that guy over there" I think she was pointing at the skinny guy, in the very bad brown siut, but she kept wabbling and her finger kept moving like she was having an internal earthquake, "He stuck his tounge down in my mouth last week, now he thinks we are going home together." Once again, I let my knowledge flow from my mouth like sweet spring water, "Just tell him, 'So sorry, but no go.'" "You are so right!" she said, and took off in seach of a cigeratte.
I...
walked back inside and Carl-E said, "I see you made a new friend." And just as I was about to answer, there she was agin. This time she leaned over and yelled in my ear while pointing her beer at one of Carl-E's employees friends, "What his deal?" I just smiled, turned to the frind, and inquired, "What's your deal?" To this he answered, "I am not dating anyone serious." I turned back to her and said, "There you go!" Sometimes the direct approach is the best way to get the job done! They conversed, exchanged numbers, and from what I understand, they have a date; I think.
Now it is reflextion time...
Because Carl-E is the boss, we do not hang like we used to on Fridays. We used to go for happy hour every Friday, drink gallons of beer, and by the end of the night we would wind up at a club dancing until dawn. Oh the good times! But, as Carl-E moved up the corporate ladder, Friday happy hours became less and less because, well you cannot hang with the staff, because they would lose their healthy natural fear of their boss-man!
Because of this phnomenom, I totaly forgot how hard buisness people par-they! They are couped up in their cubes all week, crunchin' numbers, staring at a computer screen trying to sneak a peak at their Facebook page, eating bad microwavable food that has been in the communal fridge for over a year, consuming large amount of caffeine to stay awake (NOTE: We do have this in common), being yelled at by a guy that calls you, "Sweetie" because he does not even know your real name, meeting deadlines that cannot be met because everything is due last week, and trying to catch the Fed Ex man to get the color, spiral bound, 250+ page proposal to Canada by 6am the next morning. When they finally are freed; they go ape-shee-ite! I am extremely surprised that no one got on the table and began to shake their money makers! So, if you want to watch the mating rituals of the so-called white-collared, find a cigar bar, order a lip lickin' martini, sit back, and the fizzed up corporate-types. It is a total hoot!
It is so worth it!
And I am past my ETA!
Fizzed Up
When someone has gone extremely over the limits on alcohol.
So...
Thursday evening, Carl-E and I attended a casual semi-work related function at a local cigar bar. I was very excited, since I had a hankering for a favored martini and I was jonesin' to got out and be social. When we arrived, the place was jumpin'. There were all shapes and sizes of cubical dwellers. We met up with some of Carl-E's employees, and began to chat it up.
Well...
About an hour in to the night, and one and half pear-berry yummy martinis, I was approached by this chickie. She grabs my arm, and whispers to me in her loudest, beer infused voice possible, "My friends want to meet your cute friends." Upon inspection and observation, I really doubt that her eyes were naturally crossed, and that she spoke with a slight slur. Or, maybe she was dropped on her head several times as an infant, your guess is as good as mine.
Anywho...
She was nice enough despite being a way too close talker, so I agreed to introduce everyone; except for Carl-E (NOTE: I explained in my best nice-Jersey girl wearing a large gleaming smile, that Carl-E was my boo and that if any ho' tried to spit game at him, they would get bee-otched slapped like a step-child) She got the hint VERY clear.
Next...
While everyone is conversing, I get pulled from the group by the drunk girl. She yells at me, "I need to talk to you, follow me." Before I could protest, she grabs my hand and, we go to the Ladies' room. She shuts the door (NOTE: It was one of those one-at-a-time jobs). Now that there is no noise, she whispered in a barely audible voice, "This guy came up to me and said, 'I think we would have great sex.' What should I do?" I quickly came back with , "Well, is he hot?" She replied, "No." To this I shared my infinite wisdom, "Then there is no problem." It was like light bulb clicked, she glared at me with those glassy, crossed-eyes and whispered, "You're so right!" and with that, she dropped trou and proceeded to pee. How do I get myself into these situations?
After...
My confereance in the WC, I returned to my table. Not even five minutes back, when I feel myself being jerked towards the door by guess who. "OK," she slurred with just the right touch of spittle, "You see that guy over there" I think she was pointing at the skinny guy, in the very bad brown siut, but she kept wabbling and her finger kept moving like she was having an internal earthquake, "He stuck his tounge down in my mouth last week, now he thinks we are going home together." Once again, I let my knowledge flow from my mouth like sweet spring water, "Just tell him, 'So sorry, but no go.'" "You are so right!" she said, and took off in seach of a cigeratte.
I...
walked back inside and Carl-E said, "I see you made a new friend." And just as I was about to answer, there she was agin. This time she leaned over and yelled in my ear while pointing her beer at one of Carl-E's employees friends, "What his deal?" I just smiled, turned to the frind, and inquired, "What's your deal?" To this he answered, "I am not dating anyone serious." I turned back to her and said, "There you go!" Sometimes the direct approach is the best way to get the job done! They conversed, exchanged numbers, and from what I understand, they have a date; I think.
Now it is reflextion time...
Because Carl-E is the boss, we do not hang like we used to on Fridays. We used to go for happy hour every Friday, drink gallons of beer, and by the end of the night we would wind up at a club dancing until dawn. Oh the good times! But, as Carl-E moved up the corporate ladder, Friday happy hours became less and less because, well you cannot hang with the staff, because they would lose their healthy natural fear of their boss-man!
Because of this phnomenom, I totaly forgot how hard buisness people par-they! They are couped up in their cubes all week, crunchin' numbers, staring at a computer screen trying to sneak a peak at their Facebook page, eating bad microwavable food that has been in the communal fridge for over a year, consuming large amount of caffeine to stay awake (NOTE: We do have this in common), being yelled at by a guy that calls you, "Sweetie" because he does not even know your real name, meeting deadlines that cannot be met because everything is due last week, and trying to catch the Fed Ex man to get the color, spiral bound, 250+ page proposal to Canada by 6am the next morning. When they finally are freed; they go ape-shee-ite! I am extremely surprised that no one got on the table and began to shake their money makers! So, if you want to watch the mating rituals of the so-called white-collared, find a cigar bar, order a lip lickin' martini, sit back, and the fizzed up corporate-types. It is a total hoot!
It is so worth it!
And I am past my ETA!
Fizzed Up
When someone has gone extremely over the limits on alcohol.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Nov 11: The Human Maze!
Good afternoon, tators! I am happy to inform you that today is the first day in probably about, oh forever that I feel human again. I had the sniffly/achy/icky/just plain dog tired sickness. This rare but highly contagious virus comes from the perfect combination of; lack of sleep, too many activities, and nada downtime.
Today is Veteran's Day; please take a moment to remember our troops; both past and present.
Anywho...
Yesterday, while in my funk, I decided to venture out of my casa to Ikea. Now, I have never embarked on this journey to the land of Ikea. "Why?", you may ask, because I heard many horrific rumors of people never returning from the depths of Ikea. One that still haunts me is the one about a whole Brazilian tour group getting lost for days despite their leader waving the national flag, in the human maze constructive of self put-together, press-board, furniture and sleek, Swedish knick-knacks in the Ikea Orlando store. Despite this tale, I decided to push the vicious rumors aside, put on my brave face and venture into the Ikea-unknown. I mean, hell I have climb two of the seven summits, how bad could it be? To ready myself, I charged my cell phone, made sure I had a bottle of Coke Zero, a Zone bar, and told Carl-E where I was going just incase he did not hear from me by 9pm.
Why did I go to Ikea???
I finally moved into my office/studio space, and I needed a desk chair. Most of the office desk chairs that one finds at the office supply store are way too big. They are made for like people over 5' 2" which I am so not; not even on a hot day where my bones stretch and wearing my Christian Loubuton wedges. Ikea chairs are designed for small spaces; hence small people like moi.
So...
I pull into the massive parking garage, that is the size of the Grand Canyon, and follow the yellow "Entrance" signs. After walking 4 miles thinking the entrance was just around every corner, only to be physced out by just another "This Way" sign, and going up an escalator, I finally reached the "true" entrance. Waiting for me was a cheery young lady, dressed in a sunny yellow shirt that said, "Ikea" in navy blue block letter. "Welcome to Ikea; can I help you?" I told the her what I was looking for, and she pointed and said, "Right through there are the office chairs." Now, I was feeling very confident that I would find my chair, and check out lickity-split. Just like Dorothy followed the yellow birck road in the "Wizard of Oz", I followed the yellow arrows painted on the floor to the office chairs. Just for fun, I grabed a map, and away I went. However, just as I tok the first turn, I could of swore I heard an evil cackle come from the direction of that "nice" young lady.
Well...
After walking for over 30 minutes, I finally found the office section. But let's back up...
During the first part of my journey, I was so happy that this was butta, that I started to skip, hum a happy little Ludacris ditty, and gaze at all the cute little home set-ups. However, the displays never ended, and then I began to notice the other shoppers. They seemed zombie like. Their eyes were as big as saucers, blood-shot, had dark cicles, and their mouths hung slack. I swear I saw a woman drooling on herself as if she spotted the last limited mirror addition LV. Despite these sights, I pressed on while gulping my Coke Zero for an extra rush of caffeine goodness. However, the deeper I traveled into the deep, dank, dimly lit caverns of Ikea, fear began to gain on me. However, I had a mission, I had to get a pleather and plastic Swedish engineered, rolling, adjustable, chair!
Finally...
When I reached the chairs, the selection was too big. There were mesh backed chairs, chairs with and without arms, pink, blue, red, patterned chairs, rolling and non-rolling, and all different prices. I began to try out the chairs, only to become more confused; Did I want to recline? Did I need arms? Did I want to be able to roll around? The pressure was getting to me! Finally, I decided on a nice wheely, chair with arms and faux leather.
But...
I did not know where to get my chair. I looked for a sale person, but conveniently they were no where to be found (NOTE: I think they were behind the mirrors that are really-two taking pleasure in my bewilderment). Using my woman's intuition, I figured out I had to write down the number off the tag (NOTE: See Dad, all those years of college finally paid off!). Now, I had to find the way out. I followed the signs, and followed the signs, adn then found a sign that said "Short Cut To Check OUt." I decided against my better judgment to follow this sign. Well, tators your girl wound up right back where she started. I had to got through the whole maze AGAIN!
After a 1/2 an hour...
I finally made it to the area where I picked up my chair. Now, I had to get out of Ikea. After two elevator trips (NOTE: It should of been 1 but I missed my stop), and walking another 14,000 miles, I found my Beemer. as I drove out of the parking garage, I swore that the next time I dare to venture into Ikea, I need to know exactly what I want, get the number, and head for the exit, otherwise I may become the next Ikea missing-person legend.
I gots to bounce!
Today is Veteran's Day; please take a moment to remember our troops; both past and present.
Anywho...
Yesterday, while in my funk, I decided to venture out of my casa to Ikea. Now, I have never embarked on this journey to the land of Ikea. "Why?", you may ask, because I heard many horrific rumors of people never returning from the depths of Ikea. One that still haunts me is the one about a whole Brazilian tour group getting lost for days despite their leader waving the national flag, in the human maze constructive of self put-together, press-board, furniture and sleek, Swedish knick-knacks in the Ikea Orlando store. Despite this tale, I decided to push the vicious rumors aside, put on my brave face and venture into the Ikea-unknown. I mean, hell I have climb two of the seven summits, how bad could it be? To ready myself, I charged my cell phone, made sure I had a bottle of Coke Zero, a Zone bar, and told Carl-E where I was going just incase he did not hear from me by 9pm.
Why did I go to Ikea???
I finally moved into my office/studio space, and I needed a desk chair. Most of the office desk chairs that one finds at the office supply store are way too big. They are made for like people over 5' 2" which I am so not; not even on a hot day where my bones stretch and wearing my Christian Loubuton wedges. Ikea chairs are designed for small spaces; hence small people like moi.
So...
I pull into the massive parking garage, that is the size of the Grand Canyon, and follow the yellow "Entrance" signs. After walking 4 miles thinking the entrance was just around every corner, only to be physced out by just another "This Way" sign, and going up an escalator, I finally reached the "true" entrance. Waiting for me was a cheery young lady, dressed in a sunny yellow shirt that said, "Ikea" in navy blue block letter. "Welcome to Ikea; can I help you?" I told the her what I was looking for, and she pointed and said, "Right through there are the office chairs." Now, I was feeling very confident that I would find my chair, and check out lickity-split. Just like Dorothy followed the yellow birck road in the "Wizard of Oz", I followed the yellow arrows painted on the floor to the office chairs. Just for fun, I grabed a map, and away I went. However, just as I tok the first turn, I could of swore I heard an evil cackle come from the direction of that "nice" young lady.
Well...
After walking for over 30 minutes, I finally found the office section. But let's back up...
During the first part of my journey, I was so happy that this was butta, that I started to skip, hum a happy little Ludacris ditty, and gaze at all the cute little home set-ups. However, the displays never ended, and then I began to notice the other shoppers. They seemed zombie like. Their eyes were as big as saucers, blood-shot, had dark cicles, and their mouths hung slack. I swear I saw a woman drooling on herself as if she spotted the last limited mirror addition LV. Despite these sights, I pressed on while gulping my Coke Zero for an extra rush of caffeine goodness. However, the deeper I traveled into the deep, dank, dimly lit caverns of Ikea, fear began to gain on me. However, I had a mission, I had to get a pleather and plastic Swedish engineered, rolling, adjustable, chair!
Finally...
When I reached the chairs, the selection was too big. There were mesh backed chairs, chairs with and without arms, pink, blue, red, patterned chairs, rolling and non-rolling, and all different prices. I began to try out the chairs, only to become more confused; Did I want to recline? Did I need arms? Did I want to be able to roll around? The pressure was getting to me! Finally, I decided on a nice wheely, chair with arms and faux leather.
But...
I did not know where to get my chair. I looked for a sale person, but conveniently they were no where to be found (NOTE: I think they were behind the mirrors that are really-two taking pleasure in my bewilderment). Using my woman's intuition, I figured out I had to write down the number off the tag (NOTE: See Dad, all those years of college finally paid off!). Now, I had to find the way out. I followed the signs, and followed the signs, adn then found a sign that said "Short Cut To Check OUt." I decided against my better judgment to follow this sign. Well, tators your girl wound up right back where she started. I had to got through the whole maze AGAIN!
After a 1/2 an hour...
I finally made it to the area where I picked up my chair. Now, I had to get out of Ikea. After two elevator trips (NOTE: It should of been 1 but I missed my stop), and walking another 14,000 miles, I found my Beemer. as I drove out of the parking garage, I swore that the next time I dare to venture into Ikea, I need to know exactly what I want, get the number, and head for the exit, otherwise I may become the next Ikea missing-person legend.
I gots to bounce!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
November 4: OMG! I forgot
I know that many of you are either getting ready to pop the Crystal like a total P-I-M-P, biting your nails to the quick like a nerdy girl at a homecoming dance waiting desperately to be asked to dance, stuffin' your Sealy Posture Pedic with your Benjamins, because your bank with dwindle down to zero, doin' the happy dance, not the "Runnin'Man" around your tv, or just chillin' like a stone cold villin'.
I totally forgot to tell you what national day it was yesterday. Tators; your girl has been under pressure. Carl-E wants me to run for school board; can you believe?! I am dealing with bone-head contractors that cannot even install a ground wire; duh! And like some, this election is looming over my head like Hot-Lanta smog in August while I am consuming multiple adult beverages called "New Castle."
Anywho...
November 3 was...
Sandwich Day and Housewife's Day
My deepest apologies to all the housewife's for not recognizing their day. I genuflect in your glory to multi-task without breakin' a sweat, and bow to your Kitchen Aid mixer that aids you in creating the most yummy of surgery confections.
As far as sandwich day; not a big fan. I prefer salad day!
November 4 is...
Waiting For The Barbarians Day
Foreshadowing; hummmmm!
November 5 is...
Gunpowder Day
Just let your imagination run wild while you run through the fields of poppies!
G2G!
Me!
G2G
got to go
I totally forgot to tell you what national day it was yesterday. Tators; your girl has been under pressure. Carl-E wants me to run for school board; can you believe?! I am dealing with bone-head contractors that cannot even install a ground wire; duh! And like some, this election is looming over my head like Hot-Lanta smog in August while I am consuming multiple adult beverages called "New Castle."
Anywho...
November 3 was...
Sandwich Day and Housewife's Day
My deepest apologies to all the housewife's for not recognizing their day. I genuflect in your glory to multi-task without breakin' a sweat, and bow to your Kitchen Aid mixer that aids you in creating the most yummy of surgery confections.
As far as sandwich day; not a big fan. I prefer salad day!
November 4 is...
Waiting For The Barbarians Day
Foreshadowing; hummmmm!
November 5 is...
Gunpowder Day
Just let your imagination run wild while you run through the fields of poppies!
G2G!
Me!
G2G
got to go
Monday, November 3, 2008
November 3: New Month; New Obsession!
Happy Monday and welcome to November, tators! How many of you forgot to set your clocks back and got to somewhere way too early?! Not moi! Actually, I was up at 6am on a Sunday. Well, actually according to Carl-E it was really 7am, but it was 6am. All day long he would say things like, "It is 2pm, but it is really 3pm." By the time I went to la-la land I think it was 10pm or was it 9am...
Anywho...
It is Monday, and I know it is 8:37 am and I have a new obsession. Since the election is almost over; thank goodness! I need a new one! This new one costs a whole hella lot less coin than my LV infactuation, so my Carl-E should be doing the happy dance. When I shared with him my newest passion, he just shook his head and said I was loco.
Well, let me share with you...
As many of you know I loves me some Hello Kitty. She is sassy, loves pink, always looks fabu, and has the cutest friends (Note; just like my peeps; my tators!). However, I have a darkside; a gun-wieldin', mega-attitude, head-swivelin', teeth-suckin', eye-rollin', trash- talkin', Jersey girl. And to complete this side, I found I.W.G. "The Insurgents Wilderness Gruppo!"
These animals are so bad-to-the-ass! They are on the hunt to take out all poachers with missal launchers, traditional Japaneses swords (Hattori Hanzo Steel; no doubt!), AK-47's, boomerangs,and other kick-ass weapons of mass destruction. And not only do they go all Chuck Norris on all humans that do animals wrong, proceeds of the purchases of these enforcers goes to various animal organizations.
So...
Because I jumped on the I.W.G wagon late, I missed many cool figures. Now, I am on a quest for them. My fav is Astrid, a bad-mutha (Ooh! Shut your mouth!) of a big kitty; "Committed to recovering range lost to cattle ranchers and preventing rainforest destruction, Astrid often works alone in stalking and terminating human threats in her domain." She was one of the first, and very rare. I located her overseas, but I do not have the cha-ching to get her to the US of A. I have to save a bit; ya know times are tight!
If you feel the need to delve into my latest passion; check it out:
http://www.rocketworld.org/iwg/the_members.htm
Well, tomorrow night we will have a new President (NOTE: I know not really tomorrow night, but we know who will be takin' the reigns come 2-oh-oh-9!). Now when you are standing in line, if you did not take part in early voting or absentee balloting; bring a book, an IPod, phone, chaise lounge, blender, disco ball, and breath mints. Also, if you are single or just like to look; check out what's around ya! There might be some serious political hottie in your sights. Just do not get into any polical discussion because like Lit' Wayne said, "I'd rather be pushing flowers
Than to be in the penn sharing showers"
Latta tators!
chuck norris
v. to perform a totally cool and violent action, observable by peers
v. to judiciously kick a man, woman, child, or animal's ass
v. to maintain street credibility;
adj. for street cred
Did you see the way Stewart Chuck Norrised that fucking guy's neck? That's awesome.
Anywho...
It is Monday, and I know it is 8:37 am and I have a new obsession. Since the election is almost over; thank goodness! I need a new one! This new one costs a whole hella lot less coin than my LV infactuation, so my Carl-E should be doing the happy dance. When I shared with him my newest passion, he just shook his head and said I was loco.
Well, let me share with you...
As many of you know I loves me some Hello Kitty. She is sassy, loves pink, always looks fabu, and has the cutest friends (Note; just like my peeps; my tators!). However, I have a darkside; a gun-wieldin', mega-attitude, head-swivelin', teeth-suckin', eye-rollin', trash- talkin', Jersey girl. And to complete this side, I found I.W.G. "The Insurgents Wilderness Gruppo!"
These animals are so bad-to-the-ass! They are on the hunt to take out all poachers with missal launchers, traditional Japaneses swords (Hattori Hanzo Steel; no doubt!), AK-47's, boomerangs,and other kick-ass weapons of mass destruction. And not only do they go all Chuck Norris on all humans that do animals wrong, proceeds of the purchases of these enforcers goes to various animal organizations.
So...
Because I jumped on the I.W.G wagon late, I missed many cool figures. Now, I am on a quest for them. My fav is Astrid, a bad-mutha (Ooh! Shut your mouth!) of a big kitty; "Committed to recovering range lost to cattle ranchers and preventing rainforest destruction, Astrid often works alone in stalking and terminating human threats in her domain." She was one of the first, and very rare. I located her overseas, but I do not have the cha-ching to get her to the US of A. I have to save a bit; ya know times are tight!
If you feel the need to delve into my latest passion; check it out:
http://www.rocketworld.org/iwg/the_members.htm
Well, tomorrow night we will have a new President (NOTE: I know not really tomorrow night, but we know who will be takin' the reigns come 2-oh-oh-9!). Now when you are standing in line, if you did not take part in early voting or absentee balloting; bring a book, an IPod, phone, chaise lounge, blender, disco ball, and breath mints. Also, if you are single or just like to look; check out what's around ya! There might be some serious political hottie in your sights. Just do not get into any polical discussion because like Lit' Wayne said, "I'd rather be pushing flowers
Than to be in the penn sharing showers"
Latta tators!
chuck norris
v. to perform a totally cool and violent action, observable by peers
v. to judiciously kick a man, woman, child, or animal's ass
v. to maintain street credibility;
adj. for street cred
Did you see the way Stewart Chuck Norrised that fucking guy's neck? That's awesome.
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