A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Monday, December 31, 2007

What a whirlwind of holiday activity. Pictures will soon be posted to my Flickr, but from my dad's camera, as mine is (still) broken and I (still) have not had it repaired or bought a new one. I'm leaning toward the latter. It's gonna be a huge pain in the ass to attempt to have it fixed, and I'm rather titillated by the idea of a newcomer.

The office celebrated Christmas the Friday before last, the 21. We called quittin' time at noon, feasted on Mexican food at Mi Toro, and went back to the office for presents and cocktails. I refrained from the cocktails part (just a good idea, ya know?) and sat back and watched the increasingly inebriated merrymakers. I received a Bookland gift card and a ginormous, totally unexpected bonus. This is the first time I've ever gotten a Christmas bonus from any place I've worked. While it was not enough to have pool put in my yard, it was far more substantial than an enrollment in a jelly-of-the-month club, so I've got that over Clark Griswold. We had drawn names and I drew Byron's. Awesome. Byron is my workplace buddy. He's like Megan, but male and an engineer. Among a couple of nice gifts including a beautifully photographed book on bridges (which I considered keeping for myself), I presented him with a gag gift that turned out to be the hit of the party. It's a solid brass frog, about 10" tall, hoisting a barbell. It means nothing and is ugly as all hell. It now resides on his desk.

Saturday morning: Mom, Dad, and I took off for Jackson to pick up Luke at the itty-bitty airport. Since his flight wasn't scheduled to land until that evening, we spent the afternoon shopping for last minute stocking stuffers and barely surviving the hellish last-Saturday-before-Christmas traffic. Luke landed safely, and we drove on to Nashville, stayed the night and flew out to California early Sunday morning. We arrived at the Burbank airport shortly before noon, and were greeted by a gorgeous So-Cal day, sunny and 76. After a fanfrickintastic dinner on the boat, Luke and I crashed at Grandpa's beach house. We opened the windows and fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing and seagulls. Monday morning, the whole flock (of Parsons/Saints/Andreottis, not seagulls) gathered at the beach and met the photographer. This was really fun. We have never had pictures done of the whole family. In fact, it was the first time since 1982 that the whole family has gathered for Christmas (I wasn't even around yet), and there are several new members. My uncle Steve (Eric's dad) and his wife and son came down from Oregon, and Eric and his wife and little girl came in from North Carolina. It was so awesome being surrounded by all these incredible people that are part of who I am. I mean, we've all been around each other at various times, just not simultaneously. Anyway, we did the portraits, hung at the beach, and went to my Grandma's house for Christmas Eve dinner, where my dad and his siblings recreated a Christmas picture from when they were children. It was very sweet, and so cool to see my dad and aunts and uncle play like kids. The next morning, everyone gathered on the boat for presents and breakfast. There were actual presents for Dave (Eric's twelve year old brother) and Sophie (his two year old daughter) of course, and the rest of us had stockings. Very fun. We then spent the day chillaxing there on the boat. Aunt Linda, Uncle John, and Luke made homemade ravioli and and a pork loin roast, among other treats, for our Christmas dinner, and I sprawled out on the upper deck , basking in the sunlight and reading trashy magazines like Star and In Touch.

Other highlights of the trip include: Luke and I going to Universal Studios and the whole group hanging out in Solvang, this cute little Swiss-ish town chock-full of shops and bakeries. Damn Santa Ana winds prevented us from making the trip to Catalina, but it's cool. We still had a wonderful time. I'm so psyched that Luke got to come. It meant so much to me to have him there with me, not just to spend more time together before the looming separation, but to get to know my family better.

P.S. Too chilly to get in the water and didn't have a wetsuit or a board anyway. Bummer.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Dizzamn, has I been busy. Over the past week, I have:

1) missed my husband really bad
2) pretty much lived at the office
3) spent the night on a really uncomfortable bed in a Jackson sleep clinic while accompanying my mother in law to he sleep apnea test stuff
4) experienced Chuck E. Cheese for the first time and subsequently vowed to never take my own children there
5) not yet sent out Christmas cards
6) not yet packed Luke's bag for CA so he doesn't have to stay in uniform for a week
7) not yet found or purchased the required black pants and white shirts we have to wear when the whole family does the portrait thing at the beach (we're gonna look like a big group of well-coiffed waiters)
8) not yet had the time to pick up the house enough to let the housekeepeer in to do her thing (yes, I'm one of those people who does the dishes and puts everything away *before* the housekeeper gets to the house)
9) freaked out over the Army's screwup on a paycheck
10) not yet consumed or inhaled any intoxicants or poisons.

The good stuff is that I'll see Luke in five days, and that I'll be in CA in six days, and that Christmas is only eight days away. Yay!

My apologies for this post, which appears to have been thought out and typed by a five year old.

Monday, December 03, 2007

You know those moments that are embarassing or uncomfortable but really have no reason to be so? Like silently wolfing your lunch with four male coworkers at the conference table and having a series of really lame songs come on. Or realizing that you're inadvertently chewing along to the beat of "Last Christmas" by Wham!. Or that you giggle a little when the dj goes for a two-fer and plays "Careless Whisper" by Wham!. Or when you feel like a crazy person because everyone looks up when you giggle, and their "What?" faces make you giggle more but you can't explain for a minute because you just took a big bite of Sonic's awesome new Holiday Mint Blast.

Those moments make life worth living.

Talk to me....like lovers do.

P.S. This marks the only time today that Wham! will be mentioned multiple times in the same post anywhere on Blogger.

*UPDATE* Or going straight to YouTube to watch the "Careless Whisper" video and only realizing that your speakers are on full volume as the first few saxophone notes fill the office. Busted.

Friday, November 30, 2007

The time has come to purchase a long-ish cardigan-type black sweater. Preferably belted. I'm not sure how I've lasted this long in an office environment without one. Now that it's been established that my coworkers and I will never agree on appropriate thermostat setting, it's time that I, as the only person whining "It's so cold!", back down and layer up. With the standard "I'm still hip!!" cube rat sweater. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll fall into the Southern Office Womens' Pit of Tackiness, complete with a turtleneck under a sweatshirt (pendant necklace optional), white sneakers with Liz Claiborne jeans, and a UT throw draped across the back of my chair.
Ok, first off, I've gotta say that I must see Teeth. I've gotta find a theater that's playing it first, but then I'm so going to watch it.

After reading about it, I wiki'd "vagina dentata" and stumbled across an anti-rape device called Rapex. (My apologies if everyone already knows about this; it's news to me). It's basically a female condom, but the interior is lined with tiny barbs that attach to the skin of the rapist's penis, thus forcing the rapist to seek medical attention. This kills a few birds in one stone: 1) the rape is not completed 2) the rapist will be apprehended whether or not the woman reports the rape, 3) revenge, f*cker!!, and 4) it protects against STD transmission and pregnancy (what guy could get off in THAT situation??).

Sounds awesome, right? But I'm wondering how easily this could be abused. There are already known cases of date rape in which the victim later admitted that the sex had been consensual. It takes a bad, bad woman to use a false accusation of rape as some kind of revenge or to make a mistake look like something she dodn't have a choice in. Betcha there are lower types who would use this device to frame a guy. Girl wants to date boy, boy doesn't want to date girl. Boy and girl are at a party in which girl lets boy know that she'll put out, no strings attached. Boy takes up girl on offer, boy gets barbs in his pecker and girl yells "rape" and since there's indisputable proof that there was an "unwanted" penis in girl, her word weighs more than his. Yeah, it sounds like a bad movie, but it could happen. (Ok, it sounds like a really bad movie, but yeah.)

Monday, November 26, 2007

Wal-Mart, you can just take a long walk off a short dock. We're over. This has been coming for awhile.

I'd like to address yesterday's shopping trip:

We'll just skim over the actual shopping portion of the trip, complete with general dirtiness of store, items in wrong places with wrong prices, near-death experiecnes from careless associates with overstacked pallets of laundry detergent, and associates who know less about the section they've worked in for fifteen years than I know about diesel engines. We're gonna skip right up to the checkout, 'cause that's where we really went wrong, in my heart.

*Sorry-Ass-Cashier scans bleach and throws it in a bag with meat. Sarah switches bleach to an appropriate bag while loading the cart for the cashier. SAC announces total and stands there while Sarah continues to put bags in cart. Sarah tries to hand SAC a debit card, which she knows SAC is trained to process. SAC stands with hand on hip and nods toward card processing machine. Sarah swipes card and proceeds to write down total of transaction in checkbook register*

SAC: Debit or credit?
Sarah: Debit.
SAC: You have to hit "debit".

*Sarah stops writing, loses place in checkbook register, hits debit, turns back to checkbook register*

SAC: Do you want cash back?
Sarah: No, thank you.
SAC: You have to hit "no".

*Sarah complies and starts to put wallet back in purse*

SAC: Ok total.
Sarah: I'm sorry?

*Sarah looks up. SAC is chewing own tail and gazing at a flickering light panel*

Sarah: I'm sorry, what did you say?
SAC: You have to hit "ok".

*Sarah complies and starts to put the rest of the bags in cart. SAC hands Sarah a receipt while facing the other direction and mumbling something about a nice day, as she begins scanning someone else's purchases. Sarah hauls ass to get the last of the bags in cart so as not to leave anything behind or get anything mixed up with the next customer's stuff. SAC unhinges jaw, eats next customer*

Monday, November 12, 2007

Ok, after watching some of the videos at http://www.goveg.com/, I'm thoroughly disgusted with the large meat/dairy producers. Well, I'm disgusted with any animal-product producer that is cruel to the animals.

I don't have a problem with eating meat (yet). I do have a problem with the animals being kept in cramped, filthy spaces and being killed inhumanely. This moral dilemma leaves me with three options:

1) Take up hunting, and only eat the animals I myself shoot, and thus be assured that they had the most earthy upbringing possible and were quickly and painlessly dispatched.
2) Pay oodles of money to an organic/free-range/cruelty-free provider as close as possible to my city. I can't think of any, so I'll probably have to pay oodlles and a half to find one reasonably close and have my purchases shipped.
3) Go vegan. This is honestly the least attractive option to me. Even the idea of the standard french-braid and ugly boots that are the domain of hunter-women everywhere doesn't seem like that huge a price to pay when compared to the sucktitude of giving up milk, cheese, and eggs. And chicken. Beef, I can totally do without. I'm not that big of a fan of it. So no problem there; I'll take one of these over beef any day. And I've been halfway-avoiding pork for awhile, just because I think pigs are some of the cutest creatures on the planet (prosciutto is my weakness;it's the only pork product I regularly consume). But chicken? Dairy products? I need these things to (happily) survive.

So, yeah. If there are any options I'm overlooking, please share them. Because I don't want to give up certain products but can no longer buy them under the Kroger brand without shame.

Just sayin'.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Moved into the new place, and it's wonderful. Since Luke's gonna be gone for so long, we decided to downsize. Less space to maintain, less money, yada yada. But we found the cutest duplex ever, for less money than we were paying previously, and it's actually waaaay better. The bedroom is smaller but cozy with awesome natural light. Long hallway, which provides a solution to the dilemma of where to hang pictures that have sentimental value but that I don't want in the living room or bedroom. The kitchen is smaller in length but has more counter space. The living room and dining room are separated by french doors (great for directing heat, by the way). The living room has a gas fireplace and built-in bookcases, and the dining room has a built-in china cabinet, so I finally have a place to put mine. Our neighbors are two very sweet men named Mark and Mitch who manage a barbecue restaurant (I can't make that up). Pictures will soon be posted on my Flickr, along with some shots of the Corinth Cemetary Walk from Saturday. That's basically where the historical societies have members dress up as prominent figures from the city's history and stand next to their graves, telling people about their lives and the impact they had on the town. Sort of a classier Halloween-y thing. My dad was Martin Siegrist, who designed and built the Curlee-Verandah House for Hamilton Mask, one of the town's co-founders. And since Marty was from Switzerland, you know that Tom Parson had to do the whole thing with an impressive Swiss accent. Yeah. That's how we roll. Anyway, Dad was a real hit (even made the newspaper...again!) and everyone loved the accent. He enjoyed the acting so much that he's decided to join Corinth's acting guild. Anyway, the Walk was fun and educational and well worth the price of admission.

In other news, I've (finally) recently purchased an iPod, and it has become my child. How did I ever live without this tiny piece of technology??? How did I exercise? Well, that's answered easily enough: not very well and not very often. Seriously, it's 17 times more enjoyable to run now. I've been doing a "Couch to 5k" podcast a couple times a week and it's really helpful, even if the chosen music is kinda lame. I've got my iTunes library set up at work now and thus am the hippest person at the office, or at least I've caught up with the hip people. (Eff you, Pandora.com; I've got a new friend and she lets me play what I want.) And for time in my new big ol' bathtub, I've even got a designated playlist for "chillaxing". Ha. This is so much fun!

P.S. You're still cool, Pandora. I've just found someone who fits my needs better, and it's so new and exciting...you understand. I know you do.

Monday, October 29, 2007

I came home Saturday afternoon from taking my grandmother to the Memphis airport that morning. The past few days had been way stressful (good, but stressful). Moving into a new (better) place, paying off old student loans, trying to squeeze in some visit time with grandma, etc. So I was pretty bushed walking in the front door. I was greeted by a joyful, excited Luke, who said, "Hey, baby! Get suited and booted real quick! I'm taking you to Memphis! But we gotta hurry. Quick, quick! And you should wear heels. But bring comfortable shoes, too, 'cause there'll be walking later!"

After hugging him back and choking down some unkind words of confusion, I quickly scurried to get ready. We hit the road and arrived at The Melting Pot about an hour later. He then took me to Beale Street for a ghost tour.

Does this guy know the way to my heart, or what? Melted cheese and spooky history. I'm putty, I tell you. Putty.

The Melting Pot:
Fabulous! A little pricey, but worth it. You get four courses: cheese fondue, salad, entree (ours was a sampling of filet mignon, pork tenderloin, chicken, shrimp, lobster, and vegetables), and chocolate dessert fondue. Go. Like, get in the car and go right now.

Haunted Memphis (by Backbeat Tours, http://www.backbeattours.com/):
Really fun. I've been on spookier tours, but John, the guide, was awesome and I learned cool stuff about some apparently pretty bloody Memphian history. I'd go again. It's just kinda hard to get psyched up about supernatural goings-on when you're jumping out of the way of stumbling drunks and straining to hear over Elvis impersonators. But parts of the tour were in quiter areas, and that was good stuff. Like the Gayoso apartment building, for example. That was satisfyingly creepy. After the tour, I had a chance to talk with John and turns out he's a filmmaker, and his wife's from Corinth. He gave me his e-mail address. I hope to talk with him again soon. Maybe we can get together and collaborate or something. (That sounds so snarky, like I should be wearing sunglasses and a greasy low ponytail. And be a guy.)

In the meantime, anytime I tell someone about Backbeat Tours, I find myself softly singing "Backbeat, the word is on the street..." and wondering what Oasis is doing right now.

Monday, October 22, 2007

It's time to push that other post down. The subject of Luke's deployment will undoubtedly be revisted, but not for a while. For now, we still have several weeks and I'm gonna enjoy them and not be mopey. Not to say that I have been mopey; I'm holding up pretty well and have managed to wait until he had left the house both times I lost my shit and bawled.

Fun things to talk about:

1) Halloween is right around the corner. Wednseday night, I'm picking out the pumpkins for the parents' porch. (Luke and I are moving in with them until he leaves, and then I'll either stay with them or find a cheap ghetto apt. to save money.) They have two steps on the upper porch that lead to the front door. We're going to put a pumpkin on both sides of each step, for a total of four pumpkins. And a lot of pumpkin bread.

2) I'm losing weight, for real. Apparently, not eating as much bad-for-you stuff and running is more effective than sitting around and eating junk. I'll be.

3) I am still going to Cali for Christmas. Still going to Catalina. Brandon is noodling for an invite, but I don't think that's a wise idea.

4) I fly from L.A. to Nashville on the morning of the 28th. From there, I catch a flight to Buffalo and stay until the 1st. Kickass. Get to hang with Tamara, meet Jeff, maybe see my beloved Falls again, and.... Luke, who will be doing two months of training in New Jersey, is supposed to get a pass between the 28th and the 1st. Could that have worked out any better? I think not. We won't know what day it will be until a couple weeks in advance, but I'm sure I can make it work. I cannot wait for this trip. Luke, Tamara, large bodies of water, holiday festivities, cold weather, warm houses, quaint winter headgear. It's like something by Louisa May Alcott but with jazz and a better variety of cheeses.

5) Having decided that Kate Walsh has the most beautiful hair color I've ever seen, I'm going for it. Or as close to it as I can get without bleaching. So it probably be darker red and won't look much like hers but I'm gonna try. I rock reds.

6) There is a great big world of teas out there, and I'm just getting my toes wet. This requires some reading and jounaling. Who knew? Right now I'm sipping a plain Darjeeling to familiarize myself with its taste by itself before I move on to infusions. Like wine, everything from season to location alters the taste. And that's just the basics. Start talking about infusions, and whoa. I'm also reading up on the history of tea, tea as natural medicine, and Japanese tea ceremony. We're not guzzling Lipton anymore, Toto.

7) I saw 30 Days of Night. It was terrible. Laughable. I was all excited, thinking, "Yes! Finally we make vampires gross and evil again! Enough with the sexy, tortured vampires! Here comes some forward thinking!" Nope. It was trite. predictable, and cheesy. *SPOILERS IMMEDIATELY AHEAD* And what's the deal with the little girl vampire? That shit's been done, Hollywood. That market was cornered by Kirsten Dunst over a decade ago. This little girl vampire wasn't scary or interesting or anything but...well, stupid. I can't believe Sam Raimi would allow something so ridiculous in his movie. But then...ok, that's a separate post.

8) Did I mention I've lost weight?

Friday, October 12, 2007

Luke's being deployed Dec. 8. We don't know where yet, just that it will be for 12 months.

Monday, October 01, 2007

From this crazy-ass website:

"WARNING: Some words, such as the F-word, should be reserved totally for private use between husband and wife within the context of sexual activity. Never use the F-word in the hearing of anyone else, including family [especially children] and closest friends. And never use it as an expletive. Convert it from a dirty word to a very precious, private and special word that is used to refer to the sacred act that can cause life to come into existence at the point of ultimate physical marital intimacy."

I just wanted to make sure that everyone is using the F-bomb in this very precious way and no other way. Heehee!

FunFact! Plan B is synonomous with killing and eating babies. In case you didn't know.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Day 5.
(For Sep 12)

Right after Luke's graduation ceremony. Taken by Pops, so shouldn't technically be part of the 365, but I had to post it.
Day....4(?) of Project 365. Yeah, I'm gonna try to play again.
(For Sept. 11)

This is on the drive to Missouri on the 11th to pick up Luke. I don't look excited at all, do I?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

It's September 11.

No, I'm not thinking of that September 11. Not that I don't care or that I'm heartless. I've just been looking forward to this date for five months.

That's right. Today I'm heading out for Missouri to fetch the hubby. I'm totally not cool at all with this following fact: To rent a state-to-state car just for the 13th, a straight-there trip, it will cost close to $250.00. Ssshyeah! (That works best in a Wayne's World voice.) For me to rent a car today, drive it around for three days, and return it on the 14th, it will cost $140.00. So I'm spending half the money to drive the car three times as much. Which sounds good, except that I do not want to make this drive at all. No, no no. What I wanted was to sleep in my parents' backseat the whole way up and then rent a car (for $10, preferably) for the way back. No. As it is, I'm hungover and cranky and facing a seven-hour drive in a few short hours from now. I'm considering leaving work early(er) today since there's just so much shiz to do. I'm already leaving at noon for a doc appt and mani/pedi. And still have to put the finishing touches on cleaning the house and I still have to go buy a pretty something to wear for the graduation.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Photobucket Album

Thursday, August 30, 2007

I actually just heard someone say, "We need to just take all the Mexicans, grind 'em up and make chili out of 'em, and send it to India. They'd eat it."

What Do You Call Santa's Helpers? Subordinate Clauses.


Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Am I the only supernatural-stuff enthusiast who is utterly unmoved, unsatisfied, and underwhelmed by "orb" pictures and video clips? To me, they all look like either dust motes, bugs, or reflected light.

I know there's another level out there. I've been privy to it, and rarely when I've been prepared or actively seeking something out. I don't understand it, and I'm usually scared of it. It bothers me that there have been very few witnesses to my own experiences, and only one of them who had formerly been a skeptic. (He is no longer sceptical.) It's almost all under the heading of "subjective". I'm not down with that. I want irrefutable proof.

If I can't have proof, I can at least read some nice ghostie/goulie stories this afternoon. If you've got any tales to share, be they your own or your family's or even of urban legend-ancestry, I'm up for it. If you got 'em, bring 'em. It's a gloomy, cloudy day here and I'm aching for some spookiness.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Because it's getting increasingly difficult to convey information unless it's bulleted or listed:

10 Things I have to say right now

1) Luke's coming home in 15 days. And not a nanosecond too soon.

2) Brandon's staying with me until then. He's been here since Monday. 6 days. 6 days. 15 more. 6 days. What can I say? I like my Brandon, but I like my space. It's because I'm 77% feline. As long as I'm fed and groomed I'm cool with minimal human contact.

3) Was just contacted by a woman I was thinking about renting a house from. She has another one now that's more in my price range, and I've fallen in love with it. It's an old, old white farmhouse about 5 miles outside of Corinth. Pics on my Flickr.

4) I cannot get enough water in my body. I've felt hungover and deathish for three days now. Considering rigging a self-IV.

5) Not going to make it to Buffalo for the Aug 31st screening of Halloween. I failed to secure tickets back when they were cheap, and now it's too late to get anything reasonably priced.

6) I can, however, afford to go to Memphis and see The Harmony Brothers that night.

7) Like I did last night, and it was fantastic. Full review forthcoming. At some point.

8) Friday night, we celebrated boss's birthday with a little party, and I had the best margarita I've ever had. Salud.

9) I made these little pinwheel things for the occasion. They're my go-to for events. Easy and everyone always raves about them.

10) It was a lot harder to think of 10 things to talk about than I though it would be.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

So I saw Stardust. Twice. And I'm seeing it again on Thursday.
It's a perfect movie for the generation raised on The Princess Bride. It's so much fun! Humor, swordfighting, true love, campy British accents by American actresses, magic, evil witches, Robert De Niro as a pirate, Peter O'Toole as a king, UNICORNS, fire, goats, overly dramatic music crescendos, ghosts, miniature elephants, poisoned drinks, castles, runes, ferrets, and a guy makeover that transforms him into a seriously dreamy hunk. I even liked Claire Danes in it, and I don't usually like her. No trace of her Chin Wobble (TM) here.
Yesterday wasn't a total bust. My mother eventually remembered my birthday, as did my coworkers. There were Manhattans directly after work, which I had never had before and never will again. I'm just not a whiskey girl, at all. Not big on tequila, either. Two liquors I'm just not cool with.
I digress.
Then I went to Jessie's house, where she grilled chicken and made pasta salad AND mac&cheese , because there's no better way to eat on a birthday. Carbolicious. That's about it.

Anyone else want another look at Tristan? I know I do:

Silly girl, just standing there. Make. A. Move.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

The exodus went pretty well. I went to my house (well, got a ride to my house since my demoncar is in the shop AGAIN), and started the cleaning process. See, Brandon and I slept there the night before, when he came down from Nashville to get his portfolio. And while there, I realized that I had only slept there maybe four times in the past month. So it hadn't been cleaned in all that time. I hadn't left any garbage or dirty dishes out, but the place had been taken over by spiders and dustbunnies. So last night, I got the laundry going, re-washed the dishes that had been left in the dishwasher, dusted, stripped off all the bedding to be washed, cleaned the toilets and sinks, hosed down the kitchen with bleach, swept the whole house (it's all hardwood), and mopped the kitchen. I would have mopped the whole house but (grrr) the bottom actually fell out of the bucket as I was carrying it to the living room. Boy, that was fun. So actually the living room got a thorough mopping as well. By then, I was bushed. I checked the fridge. No good news there. Long-spoiled milk, condiments, and some tilapia I dethawed about three weeks ago. The freezer yielded freezer-burnt frozen veggies and sugar-free popsicles.

I called mom.

Stayed the night there again.

And I had plans to go back to my house, continue my cleaning, take a long bath in my scrubbed tub, shave my legs, and put my favorite sheets on my bed. Then my mother called me a few minutes ago and told me that my dad is getting called out to a fire and will be heading to Arkansas this afternoon. So mom wants me to stay with her for at least a few days so she won't be so lonely. *sigh* Ok. Mom and I actually have a really good time together in this kind of situation. Maybe it's reminiscent of the times my dad was out at sea or something. We'll have a good time, drinking Salty Pups and watching all the scary movies that we never get to watch together 'cause Dad hates anything remotely hinting at horror. (She loves horror, particularly when it's supernatural in nature, which is how my own tastes run.) I'm just eager to get settled in my own house again. I'd invite her to stay with me for a couple nights, but there's no way she'd leave the dogs alone, and they can't be at my place.

In other news, word on the street is that Lucy's getting an overnight pass this weekend. He'd better.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Dear Mom and Dad:

I know I've been staying with you guys a lot lately, and that you're comfortable with that. I know that you, mom, have always had a hard time with not seeing me every day. But it occurs to me that I like my own house. I like the freedom of my own house. And it's unfair to all of us for me to continue crashing at your place just because I don't want to offend anybody. This case of empty-nest syndrome has gotta stop now. I'll still come over a lot. As of this afternoon, I'm relocating all of my items that have migrated from my home to yours, back to their rightful place on Madison Street. You can stop by any time (at least until Luke comes home, and then you have to call first). I'm putting my foot down about this.


1) My air conditioner works.

2) No flea bites.

3) I don't infringe on anyone's morning time and no one infringes on my need to be a hibernating bear while it's still dark outside, as nature dictates.

4) I can watch a movie on a television set rather than a computer screen.

5) Superior sheets.

6) Laundry at my own pace.

7) A perfect, pre-designated home for every beauty aide/accoutrement I own.

8) My own coffee pot and tea pot.

9) I don't have to justify why I'm still up and reading at midnight. Sometimes I can't sleep, ok?

10) Exponentially wider variety of clothing.

11) Ditto, hair styling and makeup options, as there is room for all my stuff and I can groom in the bathroom as long as I feel like it.

12) No daily 7:45 a.m. morning panic.

13) I never again have to wonder what's going on a few rooms away and then down some mental Drain-o.

14) It's your house again. Drink up, maties. Yo-ho.

14) I don't do orange juice. Now or ever. And I don't have to repeat it daily.

15) Dietary freedom. I can eat all the canned tuna and reduced fat cheese I want. And that's all, if I choose.

15) We'll all spend less money on groceries. You people can have your $100/week grocery bills. As for me, I refer you to #15. 20 bucks'll do it.

16) My music, all the time. Bite me, Sousa.

17) An endless parade of surround-sounded George Romero zombie goodness, with me in front twirling a baton.

18) I spend less money at home. I don't know why, but it's true. Maybe because being in my own house makes me more cautious of where my money goes since I'm surrounded by things I've bought myself and bills that are my own responsibility.

19) I don't have to worry about offending anyone if I get a wild hair and decide on a dime to catch a movie or go tool around Kirkland's solo.

20) My bedroom stays dark and I like it that way.

21) I have at least one functioning window.

22) Absolutely zero risk of encountering animal excrement.

23) I'm 23.

24) I like the poodle a lot more when I don't live with her.

25) I start the dishwasher when it's full.

26) Have you seen my closet?

27) Until this past month, and with the exception of a month-long period when I was looking for a house in Corinth, I have been on my own for several years now. As is natural and good.

28) That's all I can think of right now.

*This was e-mailed fifteen minutes ago. Waiting for something to hit the fan.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Having recently gone off the deep end, to put it delicately, into an obsessive world of weight loss and beautification, I decided last night to add a new element: tingle tanning lotion.


Now keep in mind that I'm a sporadic tanner. I buy a package, go until I've got a borderline amazing tan, then just kinda taper off. I hadn't gone in a few weeks, but I had been meaning to. A few nights ago at WalMart, I found myself staring at the legs of the girl in front of me. Long, slim, set off to perfection in white running short-shorts, they were an enviably gorgeous bronze. I was smitten. With her color.
Societal norms be damned, I stepped forward. Feeling like the biggest, whitest dork in the world and struggling to keep my arms around my new beauty products and family-size package of raw tilapia, I said, "Hi, this probably sounds really creepy, but do you use a tanning lotion? I've gotta know, 'cause I need to get really tan really fast. Do you use anything?" The golden angel, mercifully, didn't seem disturbed by my question and told me that she uses Bomb Shell lotion, and warned me that it's crazy hot but works fast. Ok.
So last night I went swimming and then received a satisfying ass-kicking from the elliptical machine, then hit my tanning salon. I strolled up to the counter, eager to purchase the magic concotion that would have me looking like I just got back from Mexico tomorrow morning. I told Lisa (the owner) what I wanted, and she actually snickered.
"No way, Sarah. That stuff's intense, and you've almost totally lost your base tan. You'll be crying. I won't sell it to you right now."
"Well... is there anything less painful I could try? Something with a bronzer?"
"Uh, if you REALLY want one with a tingle, try the Firestorm. It's not as rough, but you'll definitely see a difference fast."
"I'll take it!"
"Ok, but you know our policy on returns for lotions. No can do. You sure?"

I made the purchase, grabbed the goggles and charged into room #4. I slathered on the lotion and jumped into the tanning bed, anxious for the process to begin. It was like a first date. Would this go well? Would I regret it? The lights kicked on.
For about 10 minutes.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I talked Lisa into letting me stay in for 15, despite the fact that I hadn't been there in weeks, claiming that I'm not ray-sensitive. Mistake. Right as the 10-minute mark passed, I started feeling... a tingle. It started on my chest, and then continued on to my legs and arms. Not bad, I thought. Piece of cake. Doesn't hurt. A minute later, I was biting my lip. Two minutes later, I was doing lamaze breathing. Three minutes later, I issued a whimper. Four minutes later OH SWEET LORD WILL THIS EVER END OH MY, OH MY BODY IS ON FIRE!!!!MAKE IT END I THINK THIS THING'S BROKEN AND I'VE BEEN IN HERE FOR THREE HOURS DOESN'T ANYONE CARE?? I'M SURELY CHARRING TO A CRISP AND OWWWW!! OW, OW, OW! ...

The bed turned off and I jumped out, sure that my skin was crackling and falling off. The pain subsided immediately but did not disappear. I went home and, as Lisa advised, did not shower for an hour. When the hour had passed, I confidently stepped into the shower and immediately began lathering up with my favorite pink pouf.

My parents heard my yowls over the Les Miserables (stage) DVD they were watching two rooms away, with surround sound.

I don't know whether it's just the lotion, or if I'm burnt, or both. I do know that everytime I tried to turn over in bed last night, I felt like little spiders with tiny razor blades were attacking my legs and giggling. And now I have this bottle of deadly lotion that I don't know what to do with. Maybe I'll try it again after I re-achieve a base tan (without lotion, thankyouverymuch). Or maybe I'll take it out in a field somewhere and shoot it.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

It's Wednesday and I'm finally starting to recover, calorically and otherwise, from the trip to Missouri this past weekend. Luke called me on Friday to tell me that there would definitely be an all-day pass on Sunday and perhaps an overnight pass for Saturday. This call came in the middle of an already fanfrickintastic day. Highlights:

*Friday was Brad's last day (which isn't fantastic, but let me go on), so we gave him sort of a farewell lunch at Mi Toro (now it's fantastic!).

*Bobby picked up the tab. My boss owns.

*After lunch, it became a shoot-the-shit kinda day. We were all still working, of course, but more merrily than usual.

*One of the guys said he could tell I've lost weight, and did so without that implied "You were so fat before" that can make a weight loss compliment so bittersweet.

*I acquired a new stackable rack in which to organize the paper jungle on my desk.

*Nick noticed and made "nice rack" jokes all day, which I'm unevolved enough to have enjoyed. I'll take compliments where I can get 'em, even if they're in a joking manner and about my bosoms.

*Luke called mid-shrimp and mushroom quesadilla! Husband+culinary delight = heaven.

So after lunch, Nick drove me to the rental car place, where I rented a gorgeous 2008 Grand Prix for the trip. Right after work, I decided that I absolutely would not make this trip alone. So I called Brandon and told him he was going to Missouri this weekend with me and that I would be in Nashville in three hours. We went out to a couple clubs, dined at IHOP sometime around dawn (since IHOP is the only acceptable place to go post-club activity), and crashed. The next midmorning, we rose, had an early lunch at Kabuto, and hit the road. Did I mention that this is a nearly seven hour trip? No? Well, it is, and in case you didn't know, long trips get even longer when there is no planning. We made way too many stops, and didn't study the overly complicated directions well enough (not that it would have helped; screw you, GoogleMaps! We're OVER.)and got lost in St. Louis. Finally arriving in Ft. Leonard Wood, tired, cranky, and bloated from all the sodium in road food, we collapsed at a Motel 6. I chugged an obscene amount of water in attempt to lose 40 lbs of water weight in 5 hours, and got up early to straighten my hair and don heels. Oh, I looked cute. (Pics to follow when I feel like it.) We met up with Lucy at the PX and spent the day together. It was wonderful. I just love that kid. Can't get over how different he looks. So much older. And thinner.

And now I've received word that there will indeed be an overnight pass this coming Saturday (there wasn't one previously). So I've reserved my darling Grand Prix, and Brandon and I are again making the journey. This time, though, I'm preparing. I'm getting the directions perfect. We're going to bed at a reasonable hour Friday night. We're eating a free breakfast, compliments of Brandon's mom, and packing a cooler with goodies like bottled water, chopped veggies, and chicken breast. We make no stops unless one of us in on the verge of uremic poisioning. The only exception to this is that if Luke's pass isn't issued until the late afternoon, we're going to pop off to Adams for an hour or so to see if we can't find the Bell Witch. She'd better make it snappy, 'cause we're on a schedule. I could use a shiver or three.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Sometimes, you just meet people who are too creepy to blog about in public.

Monday, July 16, 2007

And I'm back in Corinth. Bleh.

I was in Missouri. Yay!

That's right. Saturday evening, I got a call from the beloved, informing me that he would have a pass the next day from 8am to 5pm. So Dad and I set out for Ft. Leonard Wood, MO at 2 am Sunday morning. We arrived at about 9. I was so excited I could barely take bad pictures along the way. Dad dropped me off at the PX, where Luke's pass was limited to, and after saying hey to Luke, took off for some national park another hour away to get another stamp in his park passport. Lucy and I spent the day wandering around the exchange, buying a sappy pink t-shirt announcing, "I *heart* my Army soldier" that is my official sleepshirt from now on, and sampling from the food court selections. We sat at a table in the court for hours, holding hands and chatting and looking at each other with big doe eyes, then took a little walk beside the building and sat at a picnic table to continue the chatting. There was no opportunity for any contact beyond hand-holding and a couple kisses. That'll have to wait until his next pass, an overnight pass in which he is allowed to take a taxi to the nearby hotel. Regardless, we had a wonderful time and I feel more relaxed than I've felt since he left. I can't describe how good it felt to just be with him and touch him. Awww.

The drive was exhausting. Next time, I'll be more prepared. ("Next time" may very well be this coming weekend.) I'm going to pack a bag tonight to have ready, including those fun-size toiletries, exotic underwear, body hair-removal apparatus, a change of clothes, and hair-styling tools. After being in a car for several hours and /then/ realizing I had grabbed the wrong damn shirt upon leaving (my dad stopped at a gas station right before we got to the base so I could change out of my pajamas and brush my teeth), I didn't feel so attractive. I know Luke didn't give a hoot about my shirt or that I hadn't had a chance or a place to straighten my hair, but still. Maybe it makes me shallow, but I wanna look good for him. He's in front of all his buddies, you know? So yeah. Next time, I'll grab my bag and go when I get the call and get to the hotel in time to actually get a few hours of sleep, take a shower, and subdue my hair /before/ seeing him. Maybe, just maybe, I could even catch a flight out of Memphis. That would be even more awesome.

Pictures to follow. I promise.


Friday, July 13, 2007

1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog."

I don't understand this tagging hooplah. I know I don't usually like to be "it".

1) While pregnant with me, my mother was continually ravenous for corn on the cob. I was a summer baby (August), so it worked out; bountiful fresh corn, and an excuse to eat all she wanted. The night she went into labor, my grandmother had prepared one of those huge southern feasts. Baked ham, assorted fresh and fried garden vegetables, corn bread, beans, taters, sweet tea, and of course, corn on the cob. My mother was just raising an ear of corn to her mouth when her water broke. My grandmother snatched the ear out of my mother's hand, which my mom still resents, and began barking orders as only a grandma can do. I arrived a few hours later.
I don't know whether it was the insane amount of corn I vicariously ingested in utero, or just the story, or what, but I'm not a fan of said starch. I could go the rest of my life without it and be totally happy.

2) I have an unusual, tiny birthmark in an unusual place.

3) I, similar to LT, have a fortune taped to my desk at work. It reads, "Look ahead or you won't get ahead." It felt appropriate for work.

4)Huge, irrational fear of tornadoes. Well, not so much irrational. They can kill you, after all (and they enjoy it). But even in an ordinary thunderstorm, I look up at the sky a lot and strain my ears trying to hear the fabled "train" sound.

5) On the first day of sixth grade, we had to play a game similar to this one. There was a stack of separated squares of toilet tissue on a desk, and we each had to take as many from the stack as we liked. I took seven. Then we stood in a circle and it was revealed that we had to say out loud, on the spot, one thing about ourselves per square we had taken. Panicked, I confessed that I had three hamsters (not so embarrassing)... and then demonstrated what they looked like running on their wheel. Yeah. Complete with "paws to chest" motion and tilted back head with passable hamster-face impression. For the rest of the year, I was the "hamster girl." Luckily, everyone forgot over the summer and I actually made friends in seventh grade. So sixth grade is the year I learned true empathy for the Dawn Weiners of the world.

6) If plied with a few glasses of wine, I may entertain you with a stirring rendition of "I don't know much (but I know I love you)", singing Aaron Neville's part. This talent was somehow coaxed out of me by my cousin Megan, who continues to this day to make me do it over the phone.

7) In exactly two months from today, I will be bringing my husband home from training. In exactly two months and fifteen minutes from today, I may be pregnant.

8) Filing monthly state witholding taxes makes me doubt the existence of good in mankind.

Monday, July 09, 2007

And I'm back in Corinth.

I was supposed to attend a wedding in Waterloo on Saturday evening, but as the afternoon approached I realized that 1)I didn't have anything to wear...really. I had stayed at Jessica's the night before and all I had were jeans/t-shirt stuff, and since she's like 5'3", we don't wear anything near the same size, and 2)I didn't want to go the wedding at all. I wanted to see The Harmony Brothers. So I scuttled back to Corinth, picked up some clothes and hit up Google & Lindsey for directions, and took off for Memphis. By the way, Lindsey's directions were alot better than Google's. Google can just bite me from now on. It would have had me all over the place, sweating in crazy multinumbered intersections. As it turned out, there are exactly 6 turns between my driveway and LT's, three of them in Corinth. Wooo!

Lindsey was an awesome hostess, and we had a lovely time, even if her kitchen is a portal to another world. (Just kidding.) We watched reality TV (too embarassing to specify which shows), sat up chatting, etc. More details on her blog...and I'd love to do the cool thing where you could click on, say, "her blog" and it would be a magic internet link that would take you straight there. But I can't, 'cause I don't know how. So I'ma point to the right, where you can find a link in the, uh, links section.

Went to the show, and it was super. There were three acts, all of them good, and the Harmony Bros were definitely the best. Pictures to follow later today.


Lindsey's foot stool lurks in dark places.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

So some stupid girl in Luke's unit (which sound bad but isn't) got the whole group in trouble by hiding a cell phone, and blew their pass status for the week. Good call. Twit. If she had waited another couple weeks, everyone gets their cell phones back anyway. (They turned their phones in upon induction.) So it'll be at least another couple of weeks before I can go see him. The good news is that from here on, unless someone screws up royally, I can go see him for every pass, even the ones where he can't go anywhere. I'm about to become very familiar with the car-rental business, which is kinda scary since I've never done it.

Has anyone here tried Melatonin as a sleep aid? 'Cause I've been using it, and it's herbal magic. Megan suggested it, claiming that it knocks you out as efficiently as OTC sleeping pills like Sominex or Tylenol PM, but without the Oh-my-dog-I-swallowed-a-pillow-and-there-are-fucking-tasmanian devils-in-my-skull hangover that so often occurs with such medicines. I really enjoy it. I don't know if the pills have anything to do with dream quality, but my dreams lately have been seriously nuts. I'm telling you, this is how I'm going to actually write and sell a novel; I'm going to just base it on my dreams. I had one a few nights ago that actually switched to animation mid-dream, with a trippy musical interlude. It was like Tim Burton and The Misfits had a baby in my brain. I woke up so impressed with my subconscious. And yes, I wrote it all down. It'll make its appearance in a bookstore or movie theater near you sooner or later.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Day 3- Great Aunt

Yes, it's a picture of a picture. Just had to share. I think she's beautiful.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Ok. I went looking for that song in Knocked Up, in the "get to know each other" bar scene.

And I found this, which also made me giggle:

Day 2- Cheerleader

My humble office. Don't touch anything.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Day 1- Clueless

Thursday, June 14, 2007

So I saw Hostel II last night. Way, way different from the first. First, the main characters are female rather than male, which I think had a lot to do with the obvious cutback of T&A. A brief shot of Slovakian boobies is about it in that department... and Heather Matarazzo totally nude, but it's not meant to be titillating. There are a couple of male full frontals, but again, neither is meant to be arousing. One is an an art context and one is under pretty gruesome circumstances. I haven't looked around for any comments from Roth& Tarantino regarding the decision to cut out the horndog element that built the plot of the first one, because if I find anything along the lines of "this story is from a female perspective, and women just don't want to see sexuality like that", I'll daintily scream. This film also has way less gore than the first, thought more undertones of sexual violence. No one is raped onscreen, but it's hanging in the air, like the lesbian innuendo (because you can't have a movie with hot chicks without at least two of them considering some sapphic bonding *rolls eyes*). I'm not sure what the cut in blood&guts is about. Maybe it's trying to appeal to a more mainstream audience? Doubtful. Roth has never given us any indication that he's going for mainstream.

This movie was much more plotted, though I'm not sure in the right ways. Very little significant character development. A couple of token hoochies and bad guys. I think Hostel II's problem is that it can't decide if it wants you to care for the characters or just be shocked that all this death is going on. So it falls a little flat.

Will it be citrus? Or will it be bermuda blue?

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Don't you trouble your pretty little head.

My boss had a meeting this morning that turned into a political debate, which of course I was privy to since I'm sitting right next to the conference room and instructed to half-listen for tidbits to mentally file away. I've never felt so Scarlett O'Hara as when the gentlemen were coming out of the room and they all apologized to me, the little lady, for talking politics in my presence.

This is an example of social custom in historic-district Corinth. The old rules hold on, hard. While things are more casual within our own staff meetings, meetings with other people where I am also present are kinda odd, at least to me. The men all stand up when I stand up to leave the room or just fax something. They are all offered whiskey, I am offered a soft drink. They each only have one drink (this is something I've observed repeatedly) and do not have any more until my purpose in the meeting is complete and I go back to my own office. This is a big one. To offer the sole woman in the company of several men an alcoholic beverage would be a serious breach of etiquette. 1) It would be assuming that a lady drinks at all, and 2) it's just not fly. They accept a secretary's presence in an office as a necessity (who else would do all the paperwork and social arrangements?), but to them, it's not only a ridiculous notion but an insult to a woman to invite her to have a shot and talk business. That's not to say women have no power in this system. They certainly do. It's a quieter power, but it's there. There is a woman in town who comes off as the original steel magnolia. Sweet, overly cosmeticized, belonging to every club that supports the preservation and economy of the historic district. She's also the owner of one of the biggest, oldest commercial plants in the county, and no one knows how many pies she actually has her fingers in. What is known is that pissing her off is really stupid. It's fascinating to talk to this woman, who seems incapable of balancing a checkbook but who has more influence than the mayor.

Is it wrong for a woman to ride the I'm-a-girl-no-threat-here train to the top? Is it better to say, "I'm not a prancing pony. I'm a woman, and I'm smart and creative and capable" and be left behind with your values, or to prance and use the tools deemed appropriate in "a man's world" to get where you want? Does the end justify the means?

Just rambling. Being apologized to for polluting my pretty little head with political brouhaha just got me thinking about it.

They also apologized for swearing in my presence. I don't know if this behavior is a compliment to my femininity or a deep insult to my gender.
I'm getting the results of my bloodwork today, and having an echocardiogram. My doc has put me on Lexapro, which I recall as having helped my mother chill significantly a few years back. Maybe it'll kick in and I'll stop feeling like I'm going to implode. One of my worst fears has come to pass: my psyche issues are apparently manifesting physically. Fuckin-A.

The echo is to rule out bigger problems than mild heart palpitations. My doctor thinks anxiety is the real issue. We'll have a look.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Since Luke has been gone for training, I've taken to dining out pretty much every night. I had been using this as a good excuse not to clean my kitchen, figuring that if no one ever prepared or ate food there, and there were no dirty dishes, that it would just remain in a clean state (Montana, maybe). I figured incorrectly.
As is natural law, if something nasty is going to happen in your house, there must be company there to see it. Now granted, the company that night was Brandon and I'm pretty well past the point of being able to be embarassed in front of him. BUT. We decided to make some late-night coffee. We innocently entered the kitchen anticipating the aroma of fresh-brewing java. I casually ground the beans, measured them into a filter, poured distilled water into the carafe. I opened the compartment that holds the filter, and immediately slammed it shut. Was that a....no, no. Brandon paused in whatever story he was telling, sensing the sudden turning of mood. I cautiously leaned forward, opened the compartment just a crack....and slammed it shut with a bloodcurdling scream. It was. It was a cockroach, the biggest I had ever seen (though I admit, I've not seen many). I stood there, shuddering and stammering. Brandon, very confused, looked into the compartment and reacted similarly. I was overcome with total revulsion, but as I stood there quivering, my disgust slowly turned to something else: RAGE. This was my turf. How dare he?? How dare this audacious insect come into my kitchen just like that? I know that people say that when you see a roach it means there's like 4 million more lurking, but I'm not buying that. This was a renegade, and not a bright one. Probably forced out of the tribe for being a dullard. There was nothing lying about to entice him or any of his kind into my house. Steeling myself, I opened the compartment again. He idled there, regarding me with an appraising eye, sizing me up. Time stood still. His antennae flicked. I squinted, Clint Eastwood-style. A tumbleweed rolled by and into my pantry. We waited for each other to make the first move. He started to kick a leg out to run, but something, perhaps my cool posturing, made him hesitate. He knew he'd messed up. I seized the moment. With an adrenaline-laced yowl of fear and triumph, I shot forward, slamming the compartment shut again. Hurriedly, I poured the water into the back of the machine and turned it on. Within a few moments, scalding water began to drip into the carafe. Victory was mine.

(I threw the coffee pot away the next day and bought a new one. I tried running bleach and water through it, but I knew it would never feel clean again.)

Saturday, June 02, 2007

My next life will be spent lazing about in bed and feeding grapes to Chris Kattan.

Thursday, May 31, 2007

So Luke graduates boot camp July 5th, and he has the remainder of that evening to spend with any family who comes to the ceremony before going on to A.I.T. the following morning.

Know what that means?


That's right. Brandon and I are again uniting forces, this time to plow through three states. I absolutely can't wait to see Luke. I know this is gonna come off as shallow (well not really, I mean I did marry him)... but damn, I know he's gonna look brutually hot. Push-ups and running in the sun makes for a good-lookin' fella. With that in mind, I've recently attacked my weight loss/beautification regimen with a Cristina Yang-like ferocity. More details of that to come over at Saintly Weight Loss.

*does happy-road trip dance*

Over and out.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Okay. For those of you looking for a movie to go see, "Bug" is not what you're looking for, no matter what you're looking for. Don't do it. I want those two hours of my life back. It's getting really mixed reviews, which I don't understand because everyone should hate this movie. It's already starting the childish, tired "But it's ART" debate.

Person One: "That sucked."
Person Two: "It was beautiful. It was Art."
P1: "I don't see anything particularly artistic about one-trick-pony Ashley Judd to begin with, and I think that her sniffly, crazy damsel-in-skank-distress trick has hit an all-time low since being combined with William Friedkin's need to take an audience hostage rather than catching their attention."
P2: *rolls eyes* "You just didn't understand it."
P1: "No, no...we all got it. It's just that what little there is to be got is so stinky, you wish there was indeed something left to get. Nope, got it the first time. It's bad. Baaaaad."
P2: "I'll bet you liked Spiderman 3."
P1: "I didn't see Spiderman 3."
P2: "Well you should have because that's the type of movie people like YOU like. You just have to have everything spoon-fed to you. You and your preconcieved notions. Try opening your mind. Think outstide your little box."
P1: "It's bad. Baaaaad. And you'd know it if you pulled your head out of Micahel Shannon's ass." *snatches black beret off P2's head and smacks him with it*

In all fairness, it could have been ok (not good, but ok) if it had continued to quietly chug along in the third act. But no. It had to **SPOILERS AHEAD, SPOILERS AHEAD** go careening into absolute insanity. I know, I know, that's the point- they're crazy and there's no real rhyme or reason. Whatever. That's no excuse for poor scripting. The finale, with its diarrhea-of-the-mouth and Ashley Judd's crazyass exclmation of "I am the mother bug" before setting herself ablaze... it's fuckin' retarded, folks, to put it delicately. Avoid.

When the best part of a movie is Harry Connick, Jr. mimicing slipping on linoleum, it's a good idea to just shelve it.

Monday, May 21, 2007

So Luke left. I dropped him off with his recruiter in Selmer at 3:00am on April 25th. I'm not going to go far into how I feel about it. Suffice to say I miss him terribly, I'm very proud of him, and my bed is so empty I find myself sleeping at my parents' house more often than not. This is not the five months of independence I had pictured. This sucks. I love doing things by myself. Dining out, going to movies, etc. I guess I thought that would give me a leg up in this situation, that I am not as much of a social animal as other people.

I am wrong. I need petting. And since the one person from whom I will accept petting is now in Missouri, it's a cruel, cruel summer.

I don't mean that I'm moping around (anymore), watching The Notebook and looking at our wedding pictures. I'm working, a lot. I'm also being as socially interactive as I care to be, which consists of a visit with Jessie about once a week, an every-three-weeks visit with Megan, and evening chats with Brandon, mixed up with a couple calls with Jason every now and again. And I am digging the unlimited amount of time I can spend in the movie theater, and the ability to sip coffee, read, and chain-smoke as long as I want at the Omelet House. But my friends, I'd honestly rather be just hanging with the honey.

In other news, I just paid off one of the student loans that's been a bur in my side (?) for two years. That's a pretty good feeling.

Brandon just went home after an enjoyable 4-day weekend visit, and with him goes my acceptance of carbs.

That's about it.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Bruton After Dark has been established on the world wide web, thanks to Brandon. And like Brandon's mom, is not the real thing but a passable substitute in a pinch.

I assure you that the actual book, also like Brandon's mom, is much meatier.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Wanna hear some bullshit?

I had Tuesday off. Allegedly. So Monday evening, as soon as I left work at 9pm, Jessie and I hit the road for Olive Branch, MS to go see Megan. We arrive in decent time and begin one of the best nights I've ever had. We stayed up until about 5am, chatting, sipping beer, eating too many chips and finally retiring after a dawn-trip to IHOP. About four hours later, Cato called me because apparently everyone within the same fucking zipcode as the store had some exotic reason they couldn't make it to work. I calmly explained (again) to Monique that I was an hour and a half away. She said she'd keep trying Alecia, who is chronically hungover and well, stupid. A couple hours later, Brandi, my boss, called me herself from home (she has strep and had not spoken to anyone or exited her bedroom for three days at the point of this call) and begged me to come in. So I do. I get there a few minutes later than I said I would, since I had to drive from Olive Branch to Corinth to Savannah to take Jessie home and back to Corinth, but I get there. I then work 12 hours the next day. Today is my new day off since my only other day off was butchered by Alecia's inability to ANSWER THE GODDAMN PHONE. And I just got called in because our Regional manager is coming in two days and I am apparently the only competent member of the Cato staff besides Brandi herself and Kim, who is transferring to another store. So I'm off to process the shipment that arrived MONDAY and still has not been completed because I was also the only one PROCESSING it. Thursday rolls around and everyone's in a panic, and I'm like, "Why the fuck was I the only one working on it? We can kiss our potential for a good audit goodbye, losers."

So I'm working every fuckin day this week too and have developed an interesting seizure-like spasm in my limbs. More on that later, when I'm NOT AT CATO.

I'm going to be very clear about my imminent departure if I'm not promoted or given a raise bordering on lewd within a week. This, friends, is some bullshit.

Monday, March 12, 2007

So I saw Black Snake Moan. And the fact that I'm seeing in tonight for the third time should clear up any misconceptions about whether or not I liked it.

I bought a new mattress set today, and am seriously considering the purchase of a bright red armchair. It's something I don't need whatsoever, but I want it soooo bad. It's so soft. Such a nice reading chair, to be placed in a corner by a window. It's a chair for hot tea and spooky novels.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Update time.

1) Still have not been bumped up to management. Will someone quit, please?

2) Luke's date to start basic training is April 25th. He'll be leaving the 24th.

3) Am positive am going to VA for vacation, however it will be closer to midsummer when I go.

4) Going to Memphis on Wednesday to visit Megan. Can't wait!

5) Had a great visit from Brandon last week.

I think that's it. Funner stuff on weight loss blog.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Finally got stuff moved into the new duplex. I'm so incredibly happy to know that tomorrow night, I will be sleeping in my own place again.

I've worked 12 hour shifts the past two days, had no time to go to the gym, no time to tan, no time to eat anything remotely healthy. However, I'm only working 35 hours next week (so far...), so I should have plenty of time to catch up.

Tomorow I'm gonna actually start looking at dates/prices for a trip Brandon and I (and perhaps Tamara) are going to take in a few months. We've decided on Virginia, and that Brandon has to wear white linen capri pants and a sunhat at the beach, but that's about as far as we've gotten.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

WHY am I so tired? I'd better get over it. Still gotta go to the gym.

I only ended up working two and a half hours yesterday. I was specifically scheduled yesterday because our DM was supposed to come and audit. She called and said she isn't coming until Friday. So boss lady rearranged my hours so that I only worked briefly yesterday, and am working open-close on Friday.

Which I don't mind. In fact, I rather enjoy audit days. Does that make me a freak?

Ok... the "former" tneants of my new duplex still haven't got all their crap out. They technically have until the end of the month because they paid a full month's rent, but they told the landlady that they would be out by this past Monday. They scheduled their read-off dates for water&utilities for Monday, so Luke and I got up all chipper Monday morning, paid the deposits, and took a few things to the duplex. Only we couldn't move it into the new place because the same old stuff is there that was there when I first went in to look at it. So... landlady is on vacation, thinking all is well, and I really don't want to call her, but I'll have to if they're not out today. There's the slim possibility that they're just abandoning the stuff, but who would abandon a table&chairs, a huge mahogany mirrored dresser, a shop-vac, and a nearly full bottle of Captain Morgan's? I WANT TO MOVE IN. 3 DAYS AGO.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Phoenix - Too young

Yes, I'm a dirty band thief. But it occured to me that if I post this video on my blog, I don't have to go to youtube just to watch it.

More to follow, I'm sure.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

I think that if I did not so carefully guard against it, I could easily become a compulsive swallower. I've always felt challenged to swallow certain items, and was once rushed to the Navy base emergency room by my panicked parents because I had earlier swallowed $0.36. In between watching Tamara shake her groove thing and taking bites of my dinner, I'm watching Maria Full of Grace. For those who may not know, it's about a Colombian chick who smuggles heroin into the U.S. by swallowing bullet-shaped packets of it. There's a scene where she's practicing with grapes and I caught myself thinking, "That's nothing." Because I do find myself often swallowing things whole, like grapes, mushrooms, hard candy, brussels sprouts, etc. I have no desire to be a drug mule, but if it ever came to pass that I had to be, I'm so down with the swallowing. (Which is completely contradictory to my intense fear of choking.) So I think I'm already compulsive, just not problematic. I don't want to swallow light bulbs or anything.

Someone share something so I don't feel so crazy.
It's confession time:

I think I'm missing some feminine gene that enables other women to coo at every small child in sight, regardless of behavior. I rarely coo. And then it's usually only children of good friends (hypothetically, since none of my good friends have children) and the occasional infant. Don't get me wrong, I like kids; I like quiet, introspective kids with glasses and bug books. I'm just uncomfortable with small children, despite their total comfort with me. It's kind of like how cats will instinctively head straight for the lap of the one person in the room who dislikes cats. And I can't even fake it all that well. We frequently get pint-sized terrors in the store. A little girl who takes one purse down and totes it around and then puts it away is kinda cute. A little girl who takes down eight purses, turns all the shoes around backwards, knocks over a jewelry display, and tries on all the bras... well, I don't think I'm cruel in thinking that this child should be kept in a crate in the car while mom shops. Or better yet, be exposed to some freakin' parenting. But while this is going on, the other customers are smiling and chuckling and saying things like," She's just precious". I'm standing there, stony-faced, thinking of all the things I'd like to say to the "mother" and I glance around, to find that more often than not, my coworkers are smiling, too. I force a smile and a little laugh, as if I don't mind the fact that I'm going to have to stop what I'm doing for a half an hour to pick up after precious lil' demon, because her mom will inevitably strip her of all the accessories and bras, drape them over a clearance rack, and walk out after she (mom) has made a purchase too small to justify either her kid's behavior or her own (thanks for leaving all those clothes in the fitting room floor, bitchcow. Looking forward to pickin' them up, too). Are other women just inherently nicer than me? Am I low on some hormone? It would be better for my blood pressure if I could just smile when I see a toddler trashing my store and ignore it until it's gone. Are all these other women faking it? Or do they genuinely think this is adorable?

Maybe having your own kids, or at least knowing a lot of kids, is the key. I don't know many kids. My old pastor has kids that I like. They're two quiet, sweet little girls in matching velvet dresses. They hug me and I don't mind at all. I like Josh and Tiffany's kids (Josh the park ranger). Their little boy was the ring bearer at my wedding, and their daughter was the flower girl. No problem here. Also children whose affection I don't mind. I like the kids of my coworkers. So it's not just kids in general that make me want to set bear-traps throughout the store.

I just don't have the ability to instantly go ga-ga over every kid. I hope that doesn't make me less of a woman.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Last night I had a dream. (That wasn't meant to sound so Raising Arizona but, if you like, you may start humming Beethoven's 9th here )

I was with Brandon and someone else, I think Jessica. We were in on the outskirts of a city which we thought was Memphis. We had Brandon's new pekapoo puppy with us, and he was too busy baby-talking her to help us figure out where we were. We were getting closer to the city and I was getting increasingly nervous about not knowing where to go, or even what our mission was. It occured to me to call Tamara to get Lindsey's phone number and maybe she could help us, since I was pretty sure we were indeed in Memphis (there were no signs anywhere). So I started dialing as we came to stop at a red light. While dialing, I noticed a man walking a lion behind our car. In the dream, this wasn't perceived as unusual. The man turned the lion around and started walking him along the side of the car, toward me. I looked over at Brandon and said, "This lion has huge paws" right as the lion reached his paw into the window and took a swipe at my shoulder. Right then, I reached Tamara's voicemail. I was still trying to act tough and laugh off the pain from the lion's scratching me, and I left a message asking her to please call us back. Brandon burst out laughing and said, "She's not calling back. She's lost her mind." He apparently thought this was hilarious and began laughing hysterically. He leaned out of his window, teen-movie style, wooo-hooing and laughing. So I was trying to drive through this unfamiliar city, repeatedly calling Tamara and getting voicemail, and Brandon was laughing like some crazy person. Suddenly he sat down and got quiet. I decided to call Luke (I don't know why he wasn't on this trip in the first place). I got him and he gave me directions to some friend's house. We got there and the friend, a guy, was watching porn (hetero) and making counterfeit $100 bills. The house smelled like fried chicken and I was getting nauseous. The whole situation felt really nasty and the tv kept getting bigger every time I looked at it, and the uh, action on the screen was getting more lewd. I was shaking my head and saying, "No, this isn't right. I've gotta get hold of Tamara and Lindsey." We ran out and got back in the car and drove to a mall. (?) We were walking toward the entrance and I suddenly had all these dogs on leashes. My mom's poodle, Brandon's puppy, my dad's border collie, and a couple of newcomers. They were all trying to run in different directions. Then this huge german shephard jumped out of nowhere and started attacking the little dogs. I had to get these dogs separated. Brandon and Jessica were just standing there, watching me. Down the street, the man with the lion was heading my way. Finally, Jessica said, "You can put the big one in my Monte Carlo, just make sure the window is down so he can pee." This made sense to me, and so did her car magically being in the next parking space, so I got the big dog in the car and concentrated on getting the small dogs in someone's jeep. Of course, they kept running out. I started crying, gave up, and headed toward the entrance of the mall. Where I ran into a very drunk Tamara and Lindsey. I told them my plight, and they were all, "We'll get you there! We know the way" and beckoning me down this alley behind the mall. I never made it down the alley because the lion jumped on me and I woke up.


In other news, I'm getting a tonna hours next week, courtesy of the girl who's getting fired.

Friday, January 12, 2007

So the living-with-the parents thing got really old, really quick. Not to say that it's been unpleasant. It's just time to go, before things get unpleasant. Mild squabbles over parking and my staying up late are increasing. So I got a duplex, and I do say "I", because I looked, I walked through, and I gave the fake enthusiastic smile to several apartments/potential landlords before finding the right one. Once I found one that I deemed suitable, I brought Luke to it, where he gave a nod of approval. Then he saw the kitchen and his head almost exploded, in the good way.
This duplex is unfrickinbelieveable for the price. Hardwood floors, new flooring in the kitchen and both bathrooms, huge cedar-lined closets, separate utility room, tons of storage space, a bedroom half the size of a Cato store, and a screened in front porch. I even have shrubbery!

A call to the animal shelter has eased my mind about Lebowski. He was adopted just a couple days after I brought him there. The guy wasn't specific, just that it was a nice family. I hope
(1) that he doesn't say that to everyone, and (2) that "nice family" doesn't include toddlers who pull tails.

I unfortunately cannot have pets in my new palace. Sorry Giada.
(Giada being, of course, Brandon's new pekapoo puppy.)