Ladies and Gentlemen,
I'm pleased to announce a new blog co-written by myself and my very dear friend Ms. Linda McDonough.
To entice you into reading the new blog, which I will feature on this site along with its homehttp://observationsbyfriends.blogspot.com, I will share with you the "Forward" for the new book/blog.
If any of you know any literary agents, feel free to pass it along.
Here it is. Introducing "Observations. By Two Former Roommates."
One thing I pride myself on is how hilarious my friends are. I lived with three girls in college that could have easily been the center of their own reality show. In fact, we often talked about how we would go about making this happen. As soon as we graduated, our dreams of reaching super stardom by becoming trashy reality figures dissipated. One of us got married, one went to law school, one became a teacher and one moved home to live with her parents for a period of time before moving in with the teacher. Those two could have kept the reality dream alive, but failed to make any progress with getting a major, or minor, network to take notice of their fabulousness.
Instead, two of the friends decided to write a book/blog. This book/blog.
It all began one day when I was walking down the street. I took notice of a woman sitting on the sidewalk. My assumption was that she was homeless… This is because she was sitting on the nasty sidewalks that make up New York City. The only time you will ever see someone making skin-to-sidewalk contact is if it is a drunk woman who just can't walk in those fabulous heels (if it isn't hurting, it isn't helping) or a homeless person. As she was sitting there, she lifted up her shirt and began rubbing her gut whilst making an odd face. Pregnant? Or pretending to be pregnant in order to gain sympathy from passer biers? What do I do when I see this? I text my friend former roommate, of course.
Me: "I just witnessed a lady sitting on the side of the road lift up her shirt and rub her gut. I think she wanted us to think she was prego but I am not convinced."
Response: "That is so weird! No pregnant woman is going to lift up her shirt in public and reveal her belly. That lady you saw just sounds drunk and fat."
I laughed out loud and decided I would continue sending her bizarre things and look forward to her reaction. And then maybe make a book.... or blog.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
It's About Damn Time
As many of you may have read on twitter or facebook, I won the opportunity to meet Lady GaGa this weekend. It was all that I had hoped it would be. GaGa is a beautiful person on the inside and out, and I'm so thankful I was blessed with the chance to meet her.
Over a month ago, I read that the Lupus Alliance of Ameria's Queens/Long Island affiliate was raffling off two tickets to see Lady GaGa perform at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY (Long Island) and along with it, the winner would get to meet GaGa after the concert for a photo op. I bought my tickets and hoped for the best. One month later, I received a phone call that I had won.
What I did not realize is that the concert would be the Saturday before Easter... not exactly the most opportune weekend. Not only would I be missing Easter with my family, but my nephew was getting baptized and my sister-in-law was getting confirmed into the Catholic church. I called her to tell her about my opportunity and she immediately insisted I go meet GaGa. My brother was equally supportive, insisting only that I try to make it back for Easter.
I got to New York Friday night after a cancelled flight bumped me to an earlier flight only to risk waiting in Houston for 6 hours if I could not fly standby on earlier flights. Lucky for me... I landed in Houston around 3:35pm, ran to the next terminal and quickly was informed that I had been cleared for standby. As soon as I ran up to the gate, they asked if I was Madeline, handed me my ticket and boarded the plane.
Friday night I got situated at my friend's apartment and then went to a near restaurant/bar called Beauty and Essex. My date to the concert worked there and managed to get me some drinks comped. (A few hours before I got to the restaurant, GaGa's boyrfriend had been eating there with all of his friends... I've been wanting to meet him for sometime because I'm a huge fan of his blog - drunkdiet.com.) After a while, my friend arrived with her sister and we caught up on lost time.
The next morning I woke up early. I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I got ready for brunch and went shopping. Time flew and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the concert.
My friend Jason and I had discussed what we planned on wearing... only to change our minds at the last minute without informing one another. When we met up at the train station, we were both wearing black pants and a white and black blazer. It made for perfectly coordinated pictures.
We rode the train to Uniondale and were so excited. We got to the concert and just kept looking at each other saying... "We are going to meet GaGa in X hours." The concert came and went. It was just as amazing as usual. When the song Paparazzi came on my heart started pounding. Earlier that day I received a text from Lady GaGa's team telling me that when I heard Paparazzi to head to Gate 20 where they would escort us back stage.
We went there... we were obviously the most excited. I had a little song and dance hour. I told the lady my name and she directed us downstairs. We waited at the bottom of the stairwell until more people joined us... then we were taken through double doors and directed to stand inside the yellow box... so we'd be out of people's ways.
We listed to the last song, Born This Way, from backstage. After the concert was over, we saw all the male dancers come backstage. We were standing right in fornt of their dressing room. HOTTIES! We were also next to the VIP lounge, so I got to see GaGa's dad from afar, her mother (who is adorable and looks just like her), Justin Tranter (lead singer of Semi Precious Weapons), and Breedlove (the best cabaret singer of all time). I also saw Lady GaGa's best friend from childhood - who is surprisingly normal.
Jason and I were the last ones of our group to be herded towards the hallway where we waited in line for our photo op. We waited for just a few minutes while we watched her talk to other kids and take pictures with them. Then it was Jason's turn. He was really nervous and became very soft spoken. I had told him to tell her he worked at Beauty and Essex because he told me she had frequented it in the past. (The night after her concert in February... when I was down the street.) She asked about his manager and gave him a high five. Maybe she'll request Jason as her waiter next time because she thought he was adorable.
Then it was my turn. I surprisingly kept my cool. I didn't cry. I didn't shake. I wasn't even feeling sick to my stomach. I was just excited and my standing heart rate increased somewhat. I walked up and the first thing I said (which was obvious) was that I had a lot of shit and apologized.
First, I gave her a letter that I had written her in case our meeting was very brief. When I handed it to her, she was so sincere in telling me that she would read it... repeating that several times. She even skimmed it while I was there with her. I told her that in the letter... I was pretty sure I asked for a job at some point. I then told her I was in law school and was planning on moving to NYC to finish my 3rd year and pursue a career in music. To this she responded that she just may need more people and lawyers after her next album came out. To which I told her I would work for free.
Then I gave her the tea cup and saucer I had painted for her. I had painted her tattoo onto the plate, but it had unfortunately broken on my way to NYC. I apologized and told her I was going to glue it but... and before I could finish she insisted I not worry. "We'll glue it, don't worry we'll glue it." (While giving her these items, her mother was telling Jason how amazing she thought the cup and plate were - so detailed.)
After giving her the plate and cup, I gave her a pocket Jesus. In a recent GaGavision article, a man protesting her concert gave her a "Get out of hell free card." RUDE. So I told her, the next time some ass hole tries to give her one of those cards, to tell him that she doesn't need it because she has Jesus... and then pull out the pocket Jesus. She LOVED pocket Jesus. She turned to show her mother the small figurine. She managed to get him out of the box while I was going on and on about the many more things I had.
Then I looked around... "I know I'm not allowed to do this, but I snuck it in." I pulled out a mini Jameson bottle and gave it to her. "I know it's your favorite and I've always wanted to have a glass with you." She took it and what she said next I found hilarious... She told me she was going to save it for after Oprah. Is that real life? For GaGa... it is.
At this point, GaGa's team was laughing because I was obviously not close to being finished. I heard some repeat me... "and"... because I continued between everything say... "And I have..."
"And this is my license plate..." I told her I had taken it off my car, and was hoping she would sign it. She expressed disbelief that it was in fact my license plate but I reassured her. She signed it and asked my name so she could customize it.
After she signed the plate, I told her that I was missing my nephew's baptizing in order to meet her. So I asked if she would sign a baptism card for him for his baby book. Everyone responded with an "awww..." and then some laughed. At this point, GaGa turned to those around her (more specifically her mother) and was like... "see... I don't get why people think I don't like Jesus. I talk about him throughout my show. I'm going to signt his card 'Happy Jesus'." And she did... it reads Lewy, Happy Jesus. Born This Way. Lady GaGa.
Finally, I informed her of my tattoo. I lifted up my shirt and asked if she would sign it in the event i could find a tattoo parlor open late enough to tattoo over it. She had me move so she could sign it in just the right spot... I jokingly requested she try to sign it a place that wouldn't be as tender as others. This part was slightly awkward because I may have revealed lower boob so she could sign where she wanted to. Truth be told, she picked the ideal spot and I think it will make a nice addition in the event it is still there tomorrow when I can find an open tattoo parlor in Norman.
Then it was time for our photo op. The professional photographer took our picture. In the picture, GaGa has pocket Jesus resting in the palm of her hand. Afterwards I asked the photographer to check to see if I had a double chin. GaGa laughed and told me I'd be surprised how often people will request to switch sides in order that they be on their good side. Then I realized I had just taken the picture on my bad side, but the photographer assured me it was a good one. I thanked GaGa, hugged her, and went on my way.
She could not have been more polite. Even though I was there longer than any of he previous attendees, I was not rushed away. It will be a night I will remember the rest of my life.
I've yet to receive a copy of the picture that I took with GaGa. But as soon as I get the email about it, I will be quick to post it.
I know I'll meet GaGa again in the future... (if anyone hears about any more auctions/raffles/competitions, do send the details my way.) And who knows,... maybe my luck will continue and she'll use my contact info I gave in the letter I wrote and offer me a job.
I got back to NYC around 2:00am. I went to bed for just under 2 hours only to wake up, get in a car and catch my flight. I made it to OKC before 11:00am and was able to drive to Enid to spend the remainder of Easter with my family.
Baby Lewy loved his card and plans on taking it to his first show and tell in elementary school.
Over a month ago, I read that the Lupus Alliance of Ameria's Queens/Long Island affiliate was raffling off two tickets to see Lady GaGa perform at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY (Long Island) and along with it, the winner would get to meet GaGa after the concert for a photo op. I bought my tickets and hoped for the best. One month later, I received a phone call that I had won.
What I did not realize is that the concert would be the Saturday before Easter... not exactly the most opportune weekend. Not only would I be missing Easter with my family, but my nephew was getting baptized and my sister-in-law was getting confirmed into the Catholic church. I called her to tell her about my opportunity and she immediately insisted I go meet GaGa. My brother was equally supportive, insisting only that I try to make it back for Easter.
I got to New York Friday night after a cancelled flight bumped me to an earlier flight only to risk waiting in Houston for 6 hours if I could not fly standby on earlier flights. Lucky for me... I landed in Houston around 3:35pm, ran to the next terminal and quickly was informed that I had been cleared for standby. As soon as I ran up to the gate, they asked if I was Madeline, handed me my ticket and boarded the plane.
Friday night I got situated at my friend's apartment and then went to a near restaurant/bar called Beauty and Essex. My date to the concert worked there and managed to get me some drinks comped. (A few hours before I got to the restaurant, GaGa's boyrfriend had been eating there with all of his friends... I've been wanting to meet him for sometime because I'm a huge fan of his blog - drunkdiet.com.) After a while, my friend arrived with her sister and we caught up on lost time.
The next morning I woke up early. I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I got ready for brunch and went shopping. Time flew and before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the concert.
My friend Jason and I had discussed what we planned on wearing... only to change our minds at the last minute without informing one another. When we met up at the train station, we were both wearing black pants and a white and black blazer. It made for perfectly coordinated pictures.
We rode the train to Uniondale and were so excited. We got to the concert and just kept looking at each other saying... "We are going to meet GaGa in X hours." The concert came and went. It was just as amazing as usual. When the song Paparazzi came on my heart started pounding. Earlier that day I received a text from Lady GaGa's team telling me that when I heard Paparazzi to head to Gate 20 where they would escort us back stage.
We went there... we were obviously the most excited. I had a little song and dance hour. I told the lady my name and she directed us downstairs. We waited at the bottom of the stairwell until more people joined us... then we were taken through double doors and directed to stand inside the yellow box... so we'd be out of people's ways.
We listed to the last song, Born This Way, from backstage. After the concert was over, we saw all the male dancers come backstage. We were standing right in fornt of their dressing room. HOTTIES! We were also next to the VIP lounge, so I got to see GaGa's dad from afar, her mother (who is adorable and looks just like her), Justin Tranter (lead singer of Semi Precious Weapons), and Breedlove (the best cabaret singer of all time). I also saw Lady GaGa's best friend from childhood - who is surprisingly normal.
Jason and I were the last ones of our group to be herded towards the hallway where we waited in line for our photo op. We waited for just a few minutes while we watched her talk to other kids and take pictures with them. Then it was Jason's turn. He was really nervous and became very soft spoken. I had told him to tell her he worked at Beauty and Essex because he told me she had frequented it in the past. (The night after her concert in February... when I was down the street.) She asked about his manager and gave him a high five. Maybe she'll request Jason as her waiter next time because she thought he was adorable.
Then it was my turn. I surprisingly kept my cool. I didn't cry. I didn't shake. I wasn't even feeling sick to my stomach. I was just excited and my standing heart rate increased somewhat. I walked up and the first thing I said (which was obvious) was that I had a lot of shit and apologized.
First, I gave her a letter that I had written her in case our meeting was very brief. When I handed it to her, she was so sincere in telling me that she would read it... repeating that several times. She even skimmed it while I was there with her. I told her that in the letter... I was pretty sure I asked for a job at some point. I then told her I was in law school and was planning on moving to NYC to finish my 3rd year and pursue a career in music. To this she responded that she just may need more people and lawyers after her next album came out. To which I told her I would work for free.
Then I gave her the tea cup and saucer I had painted for her. I had painted her tattoo onto the plate, but it had unfortunately broken on my way to NYC. I apologized and told her I was going to glue it but... and before I could finish she insisted I not worry. "We'll glue it, don't worry we'll glue it." (While giving her these items, her mother was telling Jason how amazing she thought the cup and plate were - so detailed.)
After giving her the plate and cup, I gave her a pocket Jesus. In a recent GaGavision article, a man protesting her concert gave her a "Get out of hell free card." RUDE. So I told her, the next time some ass hole tries to give her one of those cards, to tell him that she doesn't need it because she has Jesus... and then pull out the pocket Jesus. She LOVED pocket Jesus. She turned to show her mother the small figurine. She managed to get him out of the box while I was going on and on about the many more things I had.
Then I looked around... "I know I'm not allowed to do this, but I snuck it in." I pulled out a mini Jameson bottle and gave it to her. "I know it's your favorite and I've always wanted to have a glass with you." She took it and what she said next I found hilarious... She told me she was going to save it for after Oprah. Is that real life? For GaGa... it is.
At this point, GaGa's team was laughing because I was obviously not close to being finished. I heard some repeat me... "and"... because I continued between everything say... "And I have..."
"And this is my license plate..." I told her I had taken it off my car, and was hoping she would sign it. She expressed disbelief that it was in fact my license plate but I reassured her. She signed it and asked my name so she could customize it.
After she signed the plate, I told her that I was missing my nephew's baptizing in order to meet her. So I asked if she would sign a baptism card for him for his baby book. Everyone responded with an "awww..." and then some laughed. At this point, GaGa turned to those around her (more specifically her mother) and was like... "see... I don't get why people think I don't like Jesus. I talk about him throughout my show. I'm going to signt his card 'Happy Jesus'." And she did... it reads Lewy, Happy Jesus. Born This Way. Lady GaGa.
Finally, I informed her of my tattoo. I lifted up my shirt and asked if she would sign it in the event i could find a tattoo parlor open late enough to tattoo over it. She had me move so she could sign it in just the right spot... I jokingly requested she try to sign it a place that wouldn't be as tender as others. This part was slightly awkward because I may have revealed lower boob so she could sign where she wanted to. Truth be told, she picked the ideal spot and I think it will make a nice addition in the event it is still there tomorrow when I can find an open tattoo parlor in Norman.
Then it was time for our photo op. The professional photographer took our picture. In the picture, GaGa has pocket Jesus resting in the palm of her hand. Afterwards I asked the photographer to check to see if I had a double chin. GaGa laughed and told me I'd be surprised how often people will request to switch sides in order that they be on their good side. Then I realized I had just taken the picture on my bad side, but the photographer assured me it was a good one. I thanked GaGa, hugged her, and went on my way.
She could not have been more polite. Even though I was there longer than any of he previous attendees, I was not rushed away. It will be a night I will remember the rest of my life.
I've yet to receive a copy of the picture that I took with GaGa. But as soon as I get the email about it, I will be quick to post it.
I know I'll meet GaGa again in the future... (if anyone hears about any more auctions/raffles/competitions, do send the details my way.) And who knows,... maybe my luck will continue and she'll use my contact info I gave in the letter I wrote and offer me a job.
I got back to NYC around 2:00am. I went to bed for just under 2 hours only to wake up, get in a car and catch my flight. I made it to OKC before 11:00am and was able to drive to Enid to spend the remainder of Easter with my family.
Baby Lewy loved his card and plans on taking it to his first show and tell in elementary school.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
GRADUATION = PARTY
My college graduation was scheduled for 8:00am. Awesome. That’s real nice. Some people got an 11:30am graduation; some got a 2:00pm graduation. Not me. I got the one bright and early. The early bird catches the worm… well the early morning graduate catches a hangover.
I didn’t drink very much the night before. I knew that if I were to go out, I’d end up either being extremely tired (to the point that I wouldn’t wake up) or slightly hung over. I opted for neither. At the time, this idea was responsible and slightly genius. Stay at home and hang out with your roommates, or risk missing graduation. Truthfully, I would not have missed missing it. Due to the swine flu epidemic (aka the student government’s giant FAIL) we had no speaker. When my brother graduated, he had General Tommy Franks speak. When I was a freshman, those seniors got the President. G-DUB!!! When I graduated… I got a DVD directed to incoming freshman. Thanks. One of the most important days of my life and you are using it as an advertisement, love you too. However, had I actually missed graduation Mom and Dad would have been less than thrilled.
I felt great during graduation. I was a tad cranky prior due to the early hour, but other than that, I felt awesome. I praised myself for my good health. Then that evening came. The thing about behaving yourself is it only lasts so long. You can be good. But after a period of time, it runs its course and its time to move on. That night was epic. To be honest, I don’t really recall the bars. What I do recall is insisting the party not end and heading to the nearest house where I knew the party would continue. I ended up at a big party house… my dear friends at the corner of 5th and Duck. I had fun. I didn’t go crazy and do things regrettable, but I had fun. However, when the night came to an end, I found myself without a ride. I called my roommates, no answer/even had they answered they’d not been able to drive. I thought of all the under-aged friends I’d made… they weren’t in Stillwater/even had they been in Stillwater they’d not been able to drive. I had the opportunity to hop on a DD ride and they left without me because they were full. The cabs in Stillwater that night? Less than dependable. Next logical choice? Stealing a bike. I had to steal a bike. I spotted one. I ran up to it. I hopped on. I began peddling. And then I heard it… I heard yelling. “Maddie, don’t take my bike…. Maddie, please… stop. Don’t take my bike.” Did I listen? No? I was like the muthaf*ckin honey badger! I wasn’t gonna stop for nobody.”
Next Morning. Slightly hungover. But not bad. All of my roommates were packing up their things and one roommate was straight up moving out. She had rented a U-Haul and was moving all over her belongings where her fiancé lived. By the time I got the call about the bike, it was nearly 1:00pm. I assured the bike’s owner that it was downstairs and I’d bring it over soon. I went downstairs, I packed up my car, I ate lunch, and I went to get the bike…. I went to go get the bike… Where the hell is the bike? I looked in the garage. I looked in the basement. I specifically remember placing the bike my living room and locking the door. Who took it? I asked my roommate if they packed in the U-Haul by mistake. I interrogated my other roommates about the time they returned and if they locked the door behind them. Nothing. There were no clues about what happened to the bike.
I procrastinated. But eventually I had to make the call. I texted my friend and asked for a my other friend’s number, then I texted that friend and asked her what her boyfriend’s number was…. I went by his house (I had partied there before), he wasn’t there… I could only leave a message.
“Um, I know you told me to not take your bike… but I was drunk and I tend not to listen to anyone when I’ve been drinking. However, as sorry as I am about taking your bike… I’m even more sorry about what it is I’m about to tell you…. I can’t find your bike. I specifically remembered bringing it inside with me and locking the door behind me. However, this morning when I woke up, it was no where to be found.”
He called me back. I informed him again of the circumstance. He told me how he’d hope that I didn’t have to pay for the bike because it was so expensive and that he’d just hope it’d turn up.
For nearly two weeks, I just knew I was going to have to shed out about a grand in order to pay this guy back for his bike. While I was on vacation in the Bahamas I received a text:
“Hey Maddie. Good news. The bike showed up down the street from you house in front of some of my frat brothers’ yard.”
My first reaction was excitement. Yay… I don’t have to give this kid money. My second reaction? I’ve been played. What are the odds of an expensive bike ending up in the garbage? Um… none. It immediately dawned on me. He had the bike the entire time. He was simply punishing me for my transgression. He never expected me to pay for the bike; he only wanted me to think I needed to pay for it. I felt horrible for a good 2 weeks and I just knew I was going to have to pay for his bike… boy was I wrong.
The moral of this story is don’t borrow things without asking. You never know when it will come back and bite you in the ass.
I didn’t drink very much the night before. I knew that if I were to go out, I’d end up either being extremely tired (to the point that I wouldn’t wake up) or slightly hung over. I opted for neither. At the time, this idea was responsible and slightly genius. Stay at home and hang out with your roommates, or risk missing graduation. Truthfully, I would not have missed missing it. Due to the swine flu epidemic (aka the student government’s giant FAIL) we had no speaker. When my brother graduated, he had General Tommy Franks speak. When I was a freshman, those seniors got the President. G-DUB!!! When I graduated… I got a DVD directed to incoming freshman. Thanks. One of the most important days of my life and you are using it as an advertisement, love you too. However, had I actually missed graduation Mom and Dad would have been less than thrilled.
I felt great during graduation. I was a tad cranky prior due to the early hour, but other than that, I felt awesome. I praised myself for my good health. Then that evening came. The thing about behaving yourself is it only lasts so long. You can be good. But after a period of time, it runs its course and its time to move on. That night was epic. To be honest, I don’t really recall the bars. What I do recall is insisting the party not end and heading to the nearest house where I knew the party would continue. I ended up at a big party house… my dear friends at the corner of 5th and Duck. I had fun. I didn’t go crazy and do things regrettable, but I had fun. However, when the night came to an end, I found myself without a ride. I called my roommates, no answer/even had they answered they’d not been able to drive. I thought of all the under-aged friends I’d made… they weren’t in Stillwater/even had they been in Stillwater they’d not been able to drive. I had the opportunity to hop on a DD ride and they left without me because they were full. The cabs in Stillwater that night? Less than dependable. Next logical choice? Stealing a bike. I had to steal a bike. I spotted one. I ran up to it. I hopped on. I began peddling. And then I heard it… I heard yelling. “Maddie, don’t take my bike…. Maddie, please… stop. Don’t take my bike.” Did I listen? No? I was like the muthaf*ckin honey badger! I wasn’t gonna stop for nobody.”
Next Morning. Slightly hungover. But not bad. All of my roommates were packing up their things and one roommate was straight up moving out. She had rented a U-Haul and was moving all over her belongings where her fiancé lived. By the time I got the call about the bike, it was nearly 1:00pm. I assured the bike’s owner that it was downstairs and I’d bring it over soon. I went downstairs, I packed up my car, I ate lunch, and I went to get the bike…. I went to go get the bike… Where the hell is the bike? I looked in the garage. I looked in the basement. I specifically remember placing the bike my living room and locking the door. Who took it? I asked my roommate if they packed in the U-Haul by mistake. I interrogated my other roommates about the time they returned and if they locked the door behind them. Nothing. There were no clues about what happened to the bike.
I procrastinated. But eventually I had to make the call. I texted my friend and asked for a my other friend’s number, then I texted that friend and asked her what her boyfriend’s number was…. I went by his house (I had partied there before), he wasn’t there… I could only leave a message.
“Um, I know you told me to not take your bike… but I was drunk and I tend not to listen to anyone when I’ve been drinking. However, as sorry as I am about taking your bike… I’m even more sorry about what it is I’m about to tell you…. I can’t find your bike. I specifically remembered bringing it inside with me and locking the door behind me. However, this morning when I woke up, it was no where to be found.”
He called me back. I informed him again of the circumstance. He told me how he’d hope that I didn’t have to pay for the bike because it was so expensive and that he’d just hope it’d turn up.
For nearly two weeks, I just knew I was going to have to shed out about a grand in order to pay this guy back for his bike. While I was on vacation in the Bahamas I received a text:
“Hey Maddie. Good news. The bike showed up down the street from you house in front of some of my frat brothers’ yard.”
My first reaction was excitement. Yay… I don’t have to give this kid money. My second reaction? I’ve been played. What are the odds of an expensive bike ending up in the garbage? Um… none. It immediately dawned on me. He had the bike the entire time. He was simply punishing me for my transgression. He never expected me to pay for the bike; he only wanted me to think I needed to pay for it. I felt horrible for a good 2 weeks and I just knew I was going to have to pay for his bike… boy was I wrong.
The moral of this story is don’t borrow things without asking. You never know when it will come back and bite you in the ass.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Do It Even If It Kills You
Spring Break was amazing. Hit up yet another Lady GaGa concert, which was epic as usual. Then I hit up sin city with my my parents. This was the first time since turning 21 that I got to go to Vegas with my parents. To sum up my trip... I love gambling with dad. By far my favorite game to play is "Dealer Bust," most commonly referred to as Black Jack. However, if you yell "DEALER BUST" every hand, studies have shown you are more likely to win. Studies are accurate.
As fun as Vegas was, I am now home in bed and in need of a vacation from my vacation. When I got home, I was planning for reading for all my classes and behaving... however, I caught up on TV, emails and much-needed relaxation. Hey... gambling can be stressful.
Now that I am back in the real world, it has dawned on me that the Oklahoma City marathon is in 41 days. I was planning on running it. Not the half... the full. I started training in January, then the snow hit. Then I wen to NYC... obviously didn't run there. I tried to pick back up in February, but due to the snow days and NYC I wasn't as far along as I should be... I kinda got discouraged by that and became lazy. Then I got sick. I got a cold that lasted about 3 weeks and that I still have a pretty nasty cough from.... but I told myself I was running the OKC Memorial and by God... I'm going to.
The problem I immediately encountered... How am I supposed to train for a half marathon in 41 days? What did I do? I went to my favorite fitness guru Mr. Luc Carl from drunkdiet.com He is a runner and regularly blogs about his training. I asked if he thought I could do, told him where I was at distance wise now, and he responded with the following:
"Do it. Just do it. Even if it kills you." He gave me a plan for this week, which consists of a pretty slow 9 mile run on Wednesday. Truth be told, I have not run 9 miles since October. The farthest I've gone in the last two months is probably 6 miles, maybe 6 and 1/2.
I already know it's going to hurt. In fact, I told him it was going to hurt... to which he said it's supposed to, you have to set goals and beath them. He's right. Nothing in life worth something is meant to be easy. If it was, would it really be worth it because everyone would be doing it.
I'm probably going to take every precaution necessary to avoid screwing my knee up. A lot of times if I jump into a long run without working up to it, my left knee prevents me from any further training. Not just, ouch my knee hurts, but literally sharp pains will shoot up the outside of my left knee up to my hip and my leg will almost give out. I'm going to stretch to no end, pop some ibuprofen, and ice my knee after running for a good 30 minutes, then follow it up with a hot bath.
Chances are... my knee will be a little sore, but chances are... it's going to be worth it.
As fun as Vegas was, I am now home in bed and in need of a vacation from my vacation. When I got home, I was planning for reading for all my classes and behaving... however, I caught up on TV, emails and much-needed relaxation. Hey... gambling can be stressful.
Now that I am back in the real world, it has dawned on me that the Oklahoma City marathon is in 41 days. I was planning on running it. Not the half... the full. I started training in January, then the snow hit. Then I wen to NYC... obviously didn't run there. I tried to pick back up in February, but due to the snow days and NYC I wasn't as far along as I should be... I kinda got discouraged by that and became lazy. Then I got sick. I got a cold that lasted about 3 weeks and that I still have a pretty nasty cough from.... but I told myself I was running the OKC Memorial and by God... I'm going to.
The problem I immediately encountered... How am I supposed to train for a half marathon in 41 days? What did I do? I went to my favorite fitness guru Mr. Luc Carl from drunkdiet.com He is a runner and regularly blogs about his training. I asked if he thought I could do, told him where I was at distance wise now, and he responded with the following:
"Do it. Just do it. Even if it kills you." He gave me a plan for this week, which consists of a pretty slow 9 mile run on Wednesday. Truth be told, I have not run 9 miles since October. The farthest I've gone in the last two months is probably 6 miles, maybe 6 and 1/2.
I already know it's going to hurt. In fact, I told him it was going to hurt... to which he said it's supposed to, you have to set goals and beath them. He's right. Nothing in life worth something is meant to be easy. If it was, would it really be worth it because everyone would be doing it.
I'm probably going to take every precaution necessary to avoid screwing my knee up. A lot of times if I jump into a long run without working up to it, my left knee prevents me from any further training. Not just, ouch my knee hurts, but literally sharp pains will shoot up the outside of my left knee up to my hip and my leg will almost give out. I'm going to stretch to no end, pop some ibuprofen, and ice my knee after running for a good 30 minutes, then follow it up with a hot bath.
Chances are... my knee will be a little sore, but chances are... it's going to be worth it.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Safe Word
In my evidence class, the professor requires two students to stand up every class and discuss all the cases for that day. I sit in the second row, so I had yet to be called on until today. He started in the back and has snaked his way up. Wednesdays we are only in class for 50 minutes, but Thursdays and Fridays we are in class for an hour and 25 minutes.
This Wednesday we watched clips of movies that had to do with character evidence of witnesses. So the two students up just got to hang loose for most the time. They only managed to get to two cases before the bell rang. I, however, was graced with the opportunity to present on a Thursday. A full hour and 25 minutes. Lucky me.
Thus far, we have only discussed boring things. We have learned rules of relevance, probative value and prejudice, what can be used to impeach witnesses, what information can be introduced about the defendant's past, things like that. On my particular day, we were discussing Rape Shield Laws.
Rape Shield Laws are made to prevent the alleged victim's past being brought up to humiliate, thus preventing her from being raped again... but this time by the system. Back in the day, a victim's past sexual history was used to prove she was unchaste and thus, it was less likely that she was raped and more likely that she consented and was lying. Because only sluts lie, duh.
As if I did not have a perverted enough mind already, the first problem we were asked to discuss had to do with a sadomasochist. Awesome. I did not even know what that word meant until yesterday. This sadomasochist met another sadomasochist and they began emailing back and forth. In the emails, the lady that alleged to be later raped, discussed how she was a "Pushy Button," this meant that she enjoyed pushing the dominant partner to inflict greater pain... despite her being the submissive one who is supposed to keep her mouth shut.
This was to good. While the professor was trying to teach the class about whether or not this should be admitted at trial, I was making faces at my friends and pretended to push buttons. I realize how mature I am... and I realize the seriousness of the issue. I would not laugh it was an actual case, but it was a hypothetical, so I felt as if I was allowed.
After the professor was ready to move on, I decided to ask my question. We decided that this probably would not be allowed because it had to do with past sexual encounters, and those are not allowed. But I asked whether or not it would be allowed to go towards the defendant's state of mind. I made the point, that if he knew she was a "pushy button" he may have felt her response was actually in effort to get him to inflict greater pain... and then I made the remark, they must've had a safe word.
Everyone laughed... except my teacher. He liked what I had to say and continued teaching the class without even a laugh or smile. You can imagine my surprise.
Towards the end of class, we came to another interesting case. THis time it had to do with a man that claimed his alleged victim and him were having consensual sex until he pissed her off. What did he do to piss her off? The book said that while they were doing it doggy style he said, "You like it like this don't you... that is what Todd told me." Oh no he didn't. The court wouldn't allow the specific words be admitted, only that he did something to piss her off. The whole case was whether or not he was allowed to tell his count of the story in its entirety... i.e. could he tell the courtroom that she liked it doggy style... but didn't like people to know this.
The professor took one look at me, identified the smirk on my face and quickly said, I'll cover this one fast since we don't have much time left.
He gets me.
He knew I would not be able to recite this case with any serious tone. And would probably, again, make a laughing stalk of a very serious issue.
I'm taking the liberty of canceling class tomorrow due to all my hard work today. I felt I owed it to myself.
So have a good spring break everyone... and remember to use your safe word.
This Wednesday we watched clips of movies that had to do with character evidence of witnesses. So the two students up just got to hang loose for most the time. They only managed to get to two cases before the bell rang. I, however, was graced with the opportunity to present on a Thursday. A full hour and 25 minutes. Lucky me.
Thus far, we have only discussed boring things. We have learned rules of relevance, probative value and prejudice, what can be used to impeach witnesses, what information can be introduced about the defendant's past, things like that. On my particular day, we were discussing Rape Shield Laws.
Rape Shield Laws are made to prevent the alleged victim's past being brought up to humiliate, thus preventing her from being raped again... but this time by the system. Back in the day, a victim's past sexual history was used to prove she was unchaste and thus, it was less likely that she was raped and more likely that she consented and was lying. Because only sluts lie, duh.
As if I did not have a perverted enough mind already, the first problem we were asked to discuss had to do with a sadomasochist. Awesome. I did not even know what that word meant until yesterday. This sadomasochist met another sadomasochist and they began emailing back and forth. In the emails, the lady that alleged to be later raped, discussed how she was a "Pushy Button," this meant that she enjoyed pushing the dominant partner to inflict greater pain... despite her being the submissive one who is supposed to keep her mouth shut.
This was to good. While the professor was trying to teach the class about whether or not this should be admitted at trial, I was making faces at my friends and pretended to push buttons. I realize how mature I am... and I realize the seriousness of the issue. I would not laugh it was an actual case, but it was a hypothetical, so I felt as if I was allowed.
After the professor was ready to move on, I decided to ask my question. We decided that this probably would not be allowed because it had to do with past sexual encounters, and those are not allowed. But I asked whether or not it would be allowed to go towards the defendant's state of mind. I made the point, that if he knew she was a "pushy button" he may have felt her response was actually in effort to get him to inflict greater pain... and then I made the remark, they must've had a safe word.
Everyone laughed... except my teacher. He liked what I had to say and continued teaching the class without even a laugh or smile. You can imagine my surprise.
Towards the end of class, we came to another interesting case. THis time it had to do with a man that claimed his alleged victim and him were having consensual sex until he pissed her off. What did he do to piss her off? The book said that while they were doing it doggy style he said, "You like it like this don't you... that is what Todd told me." Oh no he didn't. The court wouldn't allow the specific words be admitted, only that he did something to piss her off. The whole case was whether or not he was allowed to tell his count of the story in its entirety... i.e. could he tell the courtroom that she liked it doggy style... but didn't like people to know this.
The professor took one look at me, identified the smirk on my face and quickly said, I'll cover this one fast since we don't have much time left.
He gets me.
He knew I would not be able to recite this case with any serious tone. And would probably, again, make a laughing stalk of a very serious issue.
I'm taking the liberty of canceling class tomorrow due to all my hard work today. I felt I owed it to myself.
So have a good spring break everyone... and remember to use your safe word.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Karma is a Bitch.
Monday night was faculty and staff appreciation night at a local lounge. I say lounge because it is neither bar nor restaurant. It is a restaurant with a bar, thus it is a lounge.
I sat down with some friends and we began discussing the appetizers, which then lead to a discussion of food allergies. I have a friend allergic to avocado and peanuts, another who is allergic to red wine and dried apricots. I on the other hand, was allergic to nothing so I took it upon myself to brag. And brag I did. I threw my arms in the air and proudly announced how I was allergic to nothing and laughed obnoxiously.
The evening when on, I had some more wine, I ate dinner, then I went home, popped two mucinex and went to bed. I had been taking mucinex for my mucus problem, but stopped taking them on Sunday because I was feeling better. It was also making me lose my appetite and feel rather odd, so I decided to just stop early.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt VERY strange indeed. I was rather drunk.... and my eyelids were swollen. Great. I chugged a bottle of water and went back to bed. When I woke up several hours later, my eyelids were even more swollen. I thought I had an allergic reaction to the mucinex. I called my mom freaking out about how disgusting I looked, she recommended I go get some benadryl. I picked it up on my way to school and popped two before class. Big mistake.
WIthin 30 minutes of class, I stopped taking notes and was doing everything I could to keep my eyes open. By the end of class I was slurring my words and my friends were laughing at me. I went home and went to bed. I woke up 2 hours later because I had class and I was getting called on. So I went to class and surprisingly did alright. Meanwhile, my eyelids remained somewhat swollen. I ran some errands, grabbed lunch, then made it home to rest.
I popped some more benadryl and laid down around 5 oclock. I woke up 3 hours later. During my sleep I was really confused thinking I had gone to bed for the night... so when I woke up later and saw that it was only 8 oclock, I thought I was screwed. How was I going to get to go to sleep if I had napped for almost 5 hours that day. I started reading for class and soon realized how tired I still was. So I washed my face, put vaseline on my eyes and went to bed.
I woke up this morning and my eyes were even more swollen than they were yesterday. I'm allergic to something... I just don't know what. And until then, I'm popping steroids from the doctor and putting antihistamine eye drops in my eyes.
Moral of the story... Don't brag and just remember, karma is a bitch.
I sat down with some friends and we began discussing the appetizers, which then lead to a discussion of food allergies. I have a friend allergic to avocado and peanuts, another who is allergic to red wine and dried apricots. I on the other hand, was allergic to nothing so I took it upon myself to brag. And brag I did. I threw my arms in the air and proudly announced how I was allergic to nothing and laughed obnoxiously.
The evening when on, I had some more wine, I ate dinner, then I went home, popped two mucinex and went to bed. I had been taking mucinex for my mucus problem, but stopped taking them on Sunday because I was feeling better. It was also making me lose my appetite and feel rather odd, so I decided to just stop early.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt VERY strange indeed. I was rather drunk.... and my eyelids were swollen. Great. I chugged a bottle of water and went back to bed. When I woke up several hours later, my eyelids were even more swollen. I thought I had an allergic reaction to the mucinex. I called my mom freaking out about how disgusting I looked, she recommended I go get some benadryl. I picked it up on my way to school and popped two before class. Big mistake.
WIthin 30 minutes of class, I stopped taking notes and was doing everything I could to keep my eyes open. By the end of class I was slurring my words and my friends were laughing at me. I went home and went to bed. I woke up 2 hours later because I had class and I was getting called on. So I went to class and surprisingly did alright. Meanwhile, my eyelids remained somewhat swollen. I ran some errands, grabbed lunch, then made it home to rest.
I popped some more benadryl and laid down around 5 oclock. I woke up 3 hours later. During my sleep I was really confused thinking I had gone to bed for the night... so when I woke up later and saw that it was only 8 oclock, I thought I was screwed. How was I going to get to go to sleep if I had napped for almost 5 hours that day. I started reading for class and soon realized how tired I still was. So I washed my face, put vaseline on my eyes and went to bed.
I woke up this morning and my eyes were even more swollen than they were yesterday. I'm allergic to something... I just don't know what. And until then, I'm popping steroids from the doctor and putting antihistamine eye drops in my eyes.
Moral of the story... Don't brag and just remember, karma is a bitch.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Smack the Shit Outta Life
The Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger don’t give a shit, it just takes what it wants. The Honey Badger is pretty bad ass and has no regard for any other animal… including lions.
The most fearless animal in the animal kingdom is the honey badger. A small, weasel type creature that looks harmless. But don’t let the look of the honey badger fool you.
The honey badger gets its name from it’s taste for honey. The honey badger will break into a beehive and eat the larvae. Although the honey badger will get stung thousands of times, he is not phased. It doesn’t give a shit. It’s hungry. It doesn’t care about bees, nothing can stop the honey badger when he’s hungry.
Honey badger also has an appetite for King Cobras. When the honey badger gets bit by the cobra, it passes out for a couple minutes then wakes up, like nothing happened, and continues his meal.
I encourage you all to be like the honey badger in life. Take what you want. If something stings the shit out of you… keep on keepin’ on. Just remember, the Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger smacks the shit out of it… so be like the Honey Badger and go smack the shit out of life.
Do yourself a favor and check out the following link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
The most fearless animal in the animal kingdom is the honey badger. A small, weasel type creature that looks harmless. But don’t let the look of the honey badger fool you.
The honey badger gets its name from it’s taste for honey. The honey badger will break into a beehive and eat the larvae. Although the honey badger will get stung thousands of times, he is not phased. It doesn’t give a shit. It’s hungry. It doesn’t care about bees, nothing can stop the honey badger when he’s hungry.
Honey badger also has an appetite for King Cobras. When the honey badger gets bit by the cobra, it passes out for a couple minutes then wakes up, like nothing happened, and continues his meal.
I encourage you all to be like the honey badger in life. Take what you want. If something stings the shit out of you… keep on keepin’ on. Just remember, the Honey Badger don’t care. Honey Badger smacks the shit out of it… so be like the Honey Badger and go smack the shit out of life.
Do yourself a favor and check out the following link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
Saturday, February 26, 2011
I'm pleased to announce...
Due to the recent post by my beloved cousin, I am pleased to announce that I will not be participating in the "Master Cleanse."
Just FYI...researchers recently discovered that the Master Cleanse is both extremely hard/harsh on organs and can cause organ failure. Also...it's been proven to make people GAIN weight rather than lose because after so many days of not eating/killing your organs...you binge. The second you put food (even healthy food) back into your body, your body will hold on to that fat and you'll gain back weight. Just read a huge article about it in last month's Shape magazine.
After this post, I read the following articile...
There are certainly better ways for you to drop a few pounds. Detoxification, or cleansing, diets aim to rid your body of disease-causing "toxins" by limiting the types and amounts of food you can eat. Some plans permit nothing except certain fruits and vegetables (which are often spun into juices), while the popular Master Cleanse fast restricts you to a cayenne pepper-laced elixir for 10 days.
Since the daily calorie count for many detox plans tops out at 700, you will slim down if you follow them, says David Grotto, R.D., founder of Nutrition Housecall, a personal- consulting company in Elmhurst, Illinois. But the weight you'll lose will consist of water and lean muscle tissue rather than body fat. And don't expect to be thinner for long: Because these detox diets put your body into starvation mode, it hangs on to every calorie to conserve energy. The loss of lean muscle mass dampens your calorie-burning furnace as well. So once you revert to your old eating habits, says Grotto, your metabolism will have slowed down, making you even more likely to regain the weight. Vitamin deficiencies are also possible, especially with the plans that limit fruits and veggies.
What's more, the whole concept of detox diets is misleading and it’s a better strategy to stick to a balanced healthy diet. "Your liver and other organs naturally remove so-called waste from your body," says Grotto. "Eating whole grains, produce, healthy fats, lowfat dairy, and lean protein keeps these organs and your body's elimination process in top condition. If you cut your calorie intake to 1,500 daily, you'll lose weight, too."
And have decided I will not be participating.
Instead I will do what my mother has been suggesting all along... which I too wanted to do but was blinded by false promises by the master cleanse,
I instead will be eating meats, fruits and vegetables only. I am going to attempt to cut out ALL processed foods and stick with foods that either WALKED on this earth... or LIVED on this earth.
I'm going to go have some eggs. NUM NUM NUM.
Just FYI...researchers recently discovered that the Master Cleanse is both extremely hard/harsh on organs and can cause organ failure. Also...it's been proven to make people GAIN weight rather than lose because after so many days of not eating/killing your organs...you binge. The second you put food (even healthy food) back into your body, your body will hold on to that fat and you'll gain back weight. Just read a huge article about it in last month's Shape magazine.
After this post, I read the following articile...
There are certainly better ways for you to drop a few pounds. Detoxification, or cleansing, diets aim to rid your body of disease-causing "toxins" by limiting the types and amounts of food you can eat. Some plans permit nothing except certain fruits and vegetables (which are often spun into juices), while the popular Master Cleanse fast restricts you to a cayenne pepper-laced elixir for 10 days.
Since the daily calorie count for many detox plans tops out at 700, you will slim down if you follow them, says David Grotto, R.D., founder of Nutrition Housecall, a personal- consulting company in Elmhurst, Illinois. But the weight you'll lose will consist of water and lean muscle tissue rather than body fat. And don't expect to be thinner for long: Because these detox diets put your body into starvation mode, it hangs on to every calorie to conserve energy. The loss of lean muscle mass dampens your calorie-burning furnace as well. So once you revert to your old eating habits, says Grotto, your metabolism will have slowed down, making you even more likely to regain the weight. Vitamin deficiencies are also possible, especially with the plans that limit fruits and veggies.
What's more, the whole concept of detox diets is misleading and it’s a better strategy to stick to a balanced healthy diet. "Your liver and other organs naturally remove so-called waste from your body," says Grotto. "Eating whole grains, produce, healthy fats, lowfat dairy, and lean protein keeps these organs and your body's elimination process in top condition. If you cut your calorie intake to 1,500 daily, you'll lose weight, too."
And have decided I will not be participating.
Instead I will do what my mother has been suggesting all along... which I too wanted to do but was blinded by false promises by the master cleanse,
I instead will be eating meats, fruits and vegetables only. I am going to attempt to cut out ALL processed foods and stick with foods that either WALKED on this earth... or LIVED on this earth.
I'm going to go have some eggs. NUM NUM NUM.
Day 2... still Step 1
Today is "juice" day. But seeing as I have no juicer, today will be smoothie day instead. Breakfast smoothie? Delightful. Fresh squeezed orange juice, bananas, strawberry, cherries, and vitamins. It was so good, I shared with mom.
Lunch smoothie? Disgusting. Spinach, cantelope, V8, apple and lemon juice. There is a part of me that truly believes it could've been worst. But that didn't make it any easier to choke down.
I cheated last night... technically. My mom picked up some Eischen's on her way back to the city. I outlasted the chicken, however the fried okra was over powering. I only had like 3, but still.
Today I've eaten some chocolate covered raisins... also a cheat.
I'm really debating whether or not I want to continue doing this. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm home and my mom is making a steamed chicken for dinner that looks amazing... but it's getting old already.
Perhaps once I actually start the actual drink itself, I'll be a little bit more positive about the whole thing. Right now I feel like I'm on a rabbit's diet, and I'm NOT digging it.
I WANT MORE FRIED OKRA AND CHOCOLATE COVERED RAISINS.
No cheating once the drink starts. Tomorrow is day dedicated to orange juice.... I think I might combine that with today and start the lemonade drink instead.
When life gives you lemons... and a few extra pounds... try the lemonade diet. Boom. Tagline.
Lunch smoothie? Disgusting. Spinach, cantelope, V8, apple and lemon juice. There is a part of me that truly believes it could've been worst. But that didn't make it any easier to choke down.
I cheated last night... technically. My mom picked up some Eischen's on her way back to the city. I outlasted the chicken, however the fried okra was over powering. I only had like 3, but still.
Today I've eaten some chocolate covered raisins... also a cheat.
I'm really debating whether or not I want to continue doing this. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm home and my mom is making a steamed chicken for dinner that looks amazing... but it's getting old already.
Perhaps once I actually start the actual drink itself, I'll be a little bit more positive about the whole thing. Right now I feel like I'm on a rabbit's diet, and I'm NOT digging it.
I WANT MORE FRIED OKRA AND CHOCOLATE COVERED RAISINS.
No cheating once the drink starts. Tomorrow is day dedicated to orange juice.... I think I might combine that with today and start the lemonade drink instead.
When life gives you lemons... and a few extra pounds... try the lemonade diet. Boom. Tagline.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Easin' in on Day 1
Easin' in isn't as easy as you'd think. It isn't even 3:30 and I'm unfulfilled. Today I am only allowed to eat fruits and vegetables. And I don't know if this is part of the cleanse or not, but I'm only eating raw fruits and vegetables... it may be easier if some of them were cooked, but for some reason I think I'm just supposed to eat raw... Does anyone know what "live foods" are? i.e. Can live foods be cooked?
Oh well. I've eaten a banana, an apple, a bag of carrots, a cucumber, tomatoes and strawberries. I'm supposed to eat more vegetables than fruit, but it's not my fault that fruit tastes so much better. I've run out of things to eat, so tonight I think I'm going to go get some artichokes and have some of THAT. DELICIOUS. I don't care if I have to cook em. NUM NUM NUM.
At this point, the only thing preventing me from eating those chocolate covered raisins lying on the kitchen cabinet is the fact that I'm writing this blog. By documenting every day for every one to see, it makes it a lot easier to not cheat. However, knowing myself as I do, I really wouldn't be surprised if I talked myself into it... "The ease-in is optional. You don't have to keep to it 100%. C'mon." My stomach and mind are combining forces and have placed two little devils on my shoulder. One is telling me to eat a hard boiled egg... the other is telling me to eat M&M's... ass hole.
This morning I took pictures of my stomach and weighed in... I'm anxious to see where this cleanse takes me. I watched some youtube videos of a girl that did the master cleanse last night. WHOA! She lost 15lbs in 10 days. I'm not aiming that high... I'd just like to be where I was this time last year. That would be nice.
Tomorrow my mother will probably be very angry with me throughout the entire day.... Tomorrow is a juice/broth day. I have to purify everything I eat. Something about your body being able to absorb the nutrients better because it doesn't have to break down the food first... The only thing this means to my mom it's going to be A MESS. I probably shouldn't have come home for this portion of the cleanse.
ABIGAIL - DAY 1 OF THE MASTER CLEANSE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HwkLfwNECE
ABIGAIL - DAY 10 OF THE MASTER CLEANSE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTWsF7oeWBw&feature=related
Oh well. I've eaten a banana, an apple, a bag of carrots, a cucumber, tomatoes and strawberries. I'm supposed to eat more vegetables than fruit, but it's not my fault that fruit tastes so much better. I've run out of things to eat, so tonight I think I'm going to go get some artichokes and have some of THAT. DELICIOUS. I don't care if I have to cook em. NUM NUM NUM.
At this point, the only thing preventing me from eating those chocolate covered raisins lying on the kitchen cabinet is the fact that I'm writing this blog. By documenting every day for every one to see, it makes it a lot easier to not cheat. However, knowing myself as I do, I really wouldn't be surprised if I talked myself into it... "The ease-in is optional. You don't have to keep to it 100%. C'mon." My stomach and mind are combining forces and have placed two little devils on my shoulder. One is telling me to eat a hard boiled egg... the other is telling me to eat M&M's... ass hole.
This morning I took pictures of my stomach and weighed in... I'm anxious to see where this cleanse takes me. I watched some youtube videos of a girl that did the master cleanse last night. WHOA! She lost 15lbs in 10 days. I'm not aiming that high... I'd just like to be where I was this time last year. That would be nice.
Tomorrow my mother will probably be very angry with me throughout the entire day.... Tomorrow is a juice/broth day. I have to purify everything I eat. Something about your body being able to absorb the nutrients better because it doesn't have to break down the food first... The only thing this means to my mom it's going to be A MESS. I probably shouldn't have come home for this portion of the cleanse.
ABIGAIL - DAY 1 OF THE MASTER CLEANSE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HwkLfwNECE
ABIGAIL - DAY 10 OF THE MASTER CLEANSE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTWsF7oeWBw&feature=related
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Master Cleanse
Tomorrow I will begin a cleanse. In recent weeks, I have been drinking excessively, eating less healthy and gaining more weight. Therefore... time for a cleanse.
Upon my recent trip to New York City, my cousin Willis told me of his plan to "cleanse." It consists of drinking a lemon-concoction that frankly scares the shit out of me. Not for the reason many of you associate with a cleanse, but because it has cayenne pepper in it.
The drink consists of the following:
2 tablespoons lemon or lime juice (approx. ½ lemon)
2 tablespoons genuine maple syrup (not maple-flavored sugar syrup)
1/10 teaspoon cayenne pepper (red pepper) or to taste
8 oz water, room temperature
Combine the juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper in a 10 oz glass jar w/lid and fill with the water.
Shake it up and drink (cold water may be used if preferred).
Use fresh (organic) lemons or limes only, never canned or frozen lemon or lime juice.
It sounds disgusting... but apparently is great a detoxing your body of all the shit you've consumed.
I am going to try to do the 3 day ease-in, then 7-10 days of the lemonade, then the 3 day ease-out. (The ease-in and ease-out are just that... and all days consist of a different variety fruits and vegetables ONLY.)
I am going to attempt to continue running and doing a couple of weekly yoga classes, however I am going to momentarily quit my marathon training. I just wanna keep my legs in shape so I can start back up once this is over.
While in NYC, I consumed whiskey and beer. Whiskey and beer are two things I love very much, however, whiskey and beer do not love me and like to make me puffy.
I'm told by the end of the cleanse my skin will look healthier, I'll lose some weight, puffiness will be gone, and my digestive track will not have crap lingering around.
I'm sharing this with you all in effort to be held accountable.
WISH ME LUCK.
Upon my recent trip to New York City, my cousin Willis told me of his plan to "cleanse." It consists of drinking a lemon-concoction that frankly scares the shit out of me. Not for the reason many of you associate with a cleanse, but because it has cayenne pepper in it.
The drink consists of the following:
2 tablespoons lemon or lime juice (approx. ½ lemon)
2 tablespoons genuine maple syrup (not maple-flavored sugar syrup)
1/10 teaspoon cayenne pepper (red pepper) or to taste
8 oz water, room temperature
Combine the juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper in a 10 oz glass jar w/lid and fill with the water.
Shake it up and drink (cold water may be used if preferred).
Use fresh (organic) lemons or limes only, never canned or frozen lemon or lime juice.
It sounds disgusting... but apparently is great a detoxing your body of all the shit you've consumed.
I am going to try to do the 3 day ease-in, then 7-10 days of the lemonade, then the 3 day ease-out. (The ease-in and ease-out are just that... and all days consist of a different variety fruits and vegetables ONLY.)
I am going to attempt to continue running and doing a couple of weekly yoga classes, however I am going to momentarily quit my marathon training. I just wanna keep my legs in shape so I can start back up once this is over.
While in NYC, I consumed whiskey and beer. Whiskey and beer are two things I love very much, however, whiskey and beer do not love me and like to make me puffy.
I'm told by the end of the cleanse my skin will look healthier, I'll lose some weight, puffiness will be gone, and my digestive track will not have crap lingering around.
I'm sharing this with you all in effort to be held accountable.
WISH ME LUCK.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Grace and the Nocturnals… Will you all be my Valentines?
As you all may know, last night was the Grammy awards. I’m sure you all have heard by now about my dear GaGa’s egg arrival. Don’t worry about it if you don’t get it. She was Born This Way and last night was her rebirth. Plus… it got all of you talking about it, so if you don’t like it, just keep to yourself. You are only adding to her publicity.
I mention this because I’m willing to bet you are all wondering my thoughts on the performance, the art I call clothes, and her wins/lack of wins. But the truth is I did not watch the Grammy’s last night. I recorded the red carpet, the 60 minutes interview of GaGa with Anderson Cooper and the show itself but instead of watching the Grammy’s, I went to the Grace Potter and the Nocturnal’s concert in Oklahoma City.
I have been listening to GP and the Noc’s religiously for about the last 4 months. When I say religiously, I mean I put their shit on REPEAT. Their album “Live at the Filmore” is probably the #1 listened to album on my iTunes… which is saying a lot. (Especially since I listened to The Fame Monster and the Fame Monster only for almost an entire year straight.)
Every song on Live at the Filmore has been listened to over 100 times… seeing as there are about 14 songs on the album, that is a hell of a lot of times to listen to one band. (At least 1600 times.)
The first time I heard of Grace Potter was from Grey’s Anatomy. Their song “Apologies” was featured on the show about 2 years ago. “Apologies” quickly became a favorite of mine. The top song on my iTunes has been played 278 times… Apologies has been played 189, easily making it Top 25 most played…. I believe it is around #14. (If you included the live version of apologies.. it'd be #1).
When I was at Austin City Limits in October, I saw that Grace was playing. I insisted we hit it up. I was immediately blown away. I tweeted the shit out of that concert that day. I also went home and bought EVERY album of theirs that was offered on iTunes. Their live recordings quickly became my favorite.
GP and the Noc’s have been compared to Tina Turner and the Rolling Stones. Their music isn’t necessarily similar, but their performance style is. Grace dances, jumps, runs, sits, and screams during the entire performance… not to mention the fact she plays the organ, guitar and tamborine. Most impressive is her voice… it packs a powerful punch that can knock anyone onto the floor. And when I say powerful, I mean she could easily out-sing all of the people nominated for a Grammy last night.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts…. A lot. I’ve been to a lot of music festivals. It is not a secret that I love live music. After seeing Grace Potter for the second time in concert, I would like every one to know how I feel about the matter…..
GRACE POTTER AND THE NOCTURNALS ARE BY FAR THE BEST LIVE BAND I’VE EVER SEEN.
There are still a lot of bands I’d love to see live… and they could possibly alter the above statement. But right now this is how I feel.
I’m still on a live music high. In a few short hours, I will begin coming down from my high and go into Grace Potter withdrawals. It will not be pretty. It will most likely consist of me looking up every possible concert date I could attend later in the year…. And I’ll MAKE IT HAPPEN. If I wasn’t in class right now, I’d probably go to the city to see if they’ve left for their next show in Memphis on Wednesday yet.
I can honestly say Grace Potter may top Lady GaGa in my eyes... Which is unspeakable to those of you who know me. Yes, they are completely unique in their own ways, but when it comes to music I prefer live instruments over electronic instruments. While GaGa is one hell of an artist and performer, GP and the Noc’s are raw and real and I love it.
Please dear readers, check out the Nocturnal’s and their singer Grace Potter. I promise you that you won’t regret it.
I hope this time next year, instead of coming off a GPATN high and sinking into a slight depression due to withdrawals, I’ll be celebrating Grace Potter and the Nocturnal’s first Grammy win! They more than deserve it! (Who knows… I may have to add to my body art portfolio by getting a Grace tattoo to counter my GaGa tattoo…. Just kidding, Mom.)
P.S. Dear Grace and the rest of the Nocturnals…. Will you all be my valentines?
P.S.S. Dear Mr. Yurco, I’m single.
I mention this because I’m willing to bet you are all wondering my thoughts on the performance, the art I call clothes, and her wins/lack of wins. But the truth is I did not watch the Grammy’s last night. I recorded the red carpet, the 60 minutes interview of GaGa with Anderson Cooper and the show itself but instead of watching the Grammy’s, I went to the Grace Potter and the Nocturnal’s concert in Oklahoma City.
I have been listening to GP and the Noc’s religiously for about the last 4 months. When I say religiously, I mean I put their shit on REPEAT. Their album “Live at the Filmore” is probably the #1 listened to album on my iTunes… which is saying a lot. (Especially since I listened to The Fame Monster and the Fame Monster only for almost an entire year straight.)
Every song on Live at the Filmore has been listened to over 100 times… seeing as there are about 14 songs on the album, that is a hell of a lot of times to listen to one band. (At least 1600 times.)
The first time I heard of Grace Potter was from Grey’s Anatomy. Their song “Apologies” was featured on the show about 2 years ago. “Apologies” quickly became a favorite of mine. The top song on my iTunes has been played 278 times… Apologies has been played 189, easily making it Top 25 most played…. I believe it is around #14. (If you included the live version of apologies.. it'd be #1).
When I was at Austin City Limits in October, I saw that Grace was playing. I insisted we hit it up. I was immediately blown away. I tweeted the shit out of that concert that day. I also went home and bought EVERY album of theirs that was offered on iTunes. Their live recordings quickly became my favorite.
GP and the Noc’s have been compared to Tina Turner and the Rolling Stones. Their music isn’t necessarily similar, but their performance style is. Grace dances, jumps, runs, sits, and screams during the entire performance… not to mention the fact she plays the organ, guitar and tamborine. Most impressive is her voice… it packs a powerful punch that can knock anyone onto the floor. And when I say powerful, I mean she could easily out-sing all of the people nominated for a Grammy last night.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts…. A lot. I’ve been to a lot of music festivals. It is not a secret that I love live music. After seeing Grace Potter for the second time in concert, I would like every one to know how I feel about the matter…..
GRACE POTTER AND THE NOCTURNALS ARE BY FAR THE BEST LIVE BAND I’VE EVER SEEN.
There are still a lot of bands I’d love to see live… and they could possibly alter the above statement. But right now this is how I feel.
I’m still on a live music high. In a few short hours, I will begin coming down from my high and go into Grace Potter withdrawals. It will not be pretty. It will most likely consist of me looking up every possible concert date I could attend later in the year…. And I’ll MAKE IT HAPPEN. If I wasn’t in class right now, I’d probably go to the city to see if they’ve left for their next show in Memphis on Wednesday yet.
I can honestly say Grace Potter may top Lady GaGa in my eyes... Which is unspeakable to those of you who know me. Yes, they are completely unique in their own ways, but when it comes to music I prefer live instruments over electronic instruments. While GaGa is one hell of an artist and performer, GP and the Noc’s are raw and real and I love it.
Please dear readers, check out the Nocturnal’s and their singer Grace Potter. I promise you that you won’t regret it.
I hope this time next year, instead of coming off a GPATN high and sinking into a slight depression due to withdrawals, I’ll be celebrating Grace Potter and the Nocturnal’s first Grammy win! They more than deserve it! (Who knows… I may have to add to my body art portfolio by getting a Grace tattoo to counter my GaGa tattoo…. Just kidding, Mom.)
P.S. Dear Grace and the rest of the Nocturnals…. Will you all be my valentines?
P.S.S. Dear Mr. Yurco, I’m single.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
An Education
When I was in the 2nd grade, my teacher taught us double and triple-figured addition and subtraction. However, my sister began teaching me long division. My sister is 2 years older than me, and she was in the 4th grade.
I'm guessing she didn't like doing homework. It probably stemmed from the trauma she had two years earlier when she turned in some homework that had a curse word on top of it. She got in real trouble... I thought it was funny. Not that she got in trouble, but that it was such a big deal.
I mean, dad said things like that all the time. I was telling dirty jokes, jokes I didn't know the true meaning of, by the time I was 9.
Anyhow, instead of taking the couple of minutes it would take her to actually do the long division, she opted to teach me how to do it for her. We would sit down and she would start teaching me. I'm not so sure I learned how to do it... but I sure as hell managed to memorize the problem so I could show all my favorite teachers how smart I was.
To this day I attribute my love of math as a child to my sister. I loved it. I was really good at it. Always took advanced classes. And it would always come pretty easy for me.
The odd thing is despite the fact I loved math and was very good at it, I chose to major in Journalism and Broadcasting and go on to law school. What was I thinking? I wish my sister had taught me to write, instead.
TONIGHT IS MY DAD'S 55TH BIRTHDAY PARTY! CAN'T WAIT!
I'm guessing she didn't like doing homework. It probably stemmed from the trauma she had two years earlier when she turned in some homework that had a curse word on top of it. She got in real trouble... I thought it was funny. Not that she got in trouble, but that it was such a big deal.
I mean, dad said things like that all the time. I was telling dirty jokes, jokes I didn't know the true meaning of, by the time I was 9.
Anyhow, instead of taking the couple of minutes it would take her to actually do the long division, she opted to teach me how to do it for her. We would sit down and she would start teaching me. I'm not so sure I learned how to do it... but I sure as hell managed to memorize the problem so I could show all my favorite teachers how smart I was.
To this day I attribute my love of math as a child to my sister. I loved it. I was really good at it. Always took advanced classes. And it would always come pretty easy for me.
The odd thing is despite the fact I loved math and was very good at it, I chose to major in Journalism and Broadcasting and go on to law school. What was I thinking? I wish my sister had taught me to write, instead.
TONIGHT IS MY DAD'S 55TH BIRTHDAY PARTY! CAN'T WAIT!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
I Am Invincible.
Yesterday, it snowed. It was very snowy. Snow drifts everywhere. Some 3 feet tall. So naturally, I decided to leave my house and go driving.
Three hours into my first snow day and I was already bored out of my mind. I am okay being by myself. I spend a lot of time with just my dog. But there is something about being by yourself and all your friends being busy... versus being by yourself and knowing none of your friends have anything to do. It's as if you know something magnificent could take place and if you miss out on it, you'll regret it the rest of your life. I like to call it FOMS disease. (Fear of Missing Something).
So I'm driving. There are times I'm going over huge snow drifts. My car is a beast. I am so impressed how well it is handling on the snow. I go to a friends house for a little bit. I pick up another friend. We go to the bar. I drank but remained below the legal limit. Then it was time to go. I dropped a friend off and got up to my condo parking lot and actually laughed to myself about all the cars parked/stuck in the street. I even said something to my friend who was with me.
All night we had been bragging about how awesome the GaGa-mobile had been handling the snow. And then the inevitable happened. GaGa-mobile got stuck.
I tried rocking it back and forth, digging under the tires and then I gave up. I knew I had to call someone. I got stuck in the exact spot that denied access to all those that followed, and all those that wanted to leave the parking lot. Awesome. So I called BMW Roadside Assistance. Unfortunately, I soon found out that I was not a subscriber. And they were not keen on allowing me to subscribe at that particular time.
So then I called a tow service. The lady answered the phone and thinking that I was hilarious told her, "Well... guess what!?!" She did not know what to guess. It's not like 12 inches of snow were outside and you are a tow service WHY ELSE WOULD I BE CALLING!?! I was stuck, dumbass. Crystal was not friendly and I was not a fan. Apparently, she has lost her sense of humor and she blames me for reminding her that she's yet to find it. Have you tried Wal-Mart?
Amanda and I walked the 100 meters to my house and waited for the driver. I got the call and walked back down to the street with my purse. 20 minutes later, I was free and $60 poorer.
A little later I needed to go pick up Amanda's boyfriend who was coming over for dinner. He couldn't get within a quarter mile of my house without getting stuck so he parked at the McDonalds. Guess what we saw when got back to the house.
Another car.
Another car got stuck. I suddenly didn't feel so stupid. This person was in a station wagon. What makes you think a station wagon is a good idea when trying to conquer an uphill battle of 20 inches of snow. (I think the plow had made a nice pile in front of the entrance.) I informed them that they weren't going anywhere and needed to call a tow service because the same thing had just happened to me.
"Oh, no thanks. We'll be fine. Its four wheel drive."
Oh okay, my bad. Mine was too. Have fun freezing your ass off. I'm in unit 18 if you need a number for a tow service, HA!
This morning when I woke up, a different car was stuck. Now, there is a car parked at the entrance like they were trying to leave and then decided to cut their losses.
And my neighbors decided to leave this morning also. However, the did not get so lucky either. They managed to back up a whole 15 feet before getting stuck. When I looked out there, one of them was wearing no shirt while trying to attempt to get the car back in place. Because thats smart. Two guys were pushing on the car, one shirtless, and at the same time that one was pushing, he was also attempting to drive... he was flooring it. I just kept invisioning the car finally breaking lose only to run into the building. It didn't happen, but a girl can dream.
The only good that came of my getting stuck... the tow guy told me if I get stuck again, to call him and he'll tow me for free. Aw.... Chivalry isn't dead.
I tried to upload pictures and a video of those guys trying to move the car... but my computer is acting up. I'll try again later.
Three hours into my first snow day and I was already bored out of my mind. I am okay being by myself. I spend a lot of time with just my dog. But there is something about being by yourself and all your friends being busy... versus being by yourself and knowing none of your friends have anything to do. It's as if you know something magnificent could take place and if you miss out on it, you'll regret it the rest of your life. I like to call it FOMS disease. (Fear of Missing Something).
So I'm driving. There are times I'm going over huge snow drifts. My car is a beast. I am so impressed how well it is handling on the snow. I go to a friends house for a little bit. I pick up another friend. We go to the bar. I drank but remained below the legal limit. Then it was time to go. I dropped a friend off and got up to my condo parking lot and actually laughed to myself about all the cars parked/stuck in the street. I even said something to my friend who was with me.
All night we had been bragging about how awesome the GaGa-mobile had been handling the snow. And then the inevitable happened. GaGa-mobile got stuck.
I tried rocking it back and forth, digging under the tires and then I gave up. I knew I had to call someone. I got stuck in the exact spot that denied access to all those that followed, and all those that wanted to leave the parking lot. Awesome. So I called BMW Roadside Assistance. Unfortunately, I soon found out that I was not a subscriber. And they were not keen on allowing me to subscribe at that particular time.
So then I called a tow service. The lady answered the phone and thinking that I was hilarious told her, "Well... guess what!?!" She did not know what to guess. It's not like 12 inches of snow were outside and you are a tow service WHY ELSE WOULD I BE CALLING!?! I was stuck, dumbass. Crystal was not friendly and I was not a fan. Apparently, she has lost her sense of humor and she blames me for reminding her that she's yet to find it. Have you tried Wal-Mart?
Amanda and I walked the 100 meters to my house and waited for the driver. I got the call and walked back down to the street with my purse. 20 minutes later, I was free and $60 poorer.
A little later I needed to go pick up Amanda's boyfriend who was coming over for dinner. He couldn't get within a quarter mile of my house without getting stuck so he parked at the McDonalds. Guess what we saw when got back to the house.
Another car.
Another car got stuck. I suddenly didn't feel so stupid. This person was in a station wagon. What makes you think a station wagon is a good idea when trying to conquer an uphill battle of 20 inches of snow. (I think the plow had made a nice pile in front of the entrance.) I informed them that they weren't going anywhere and needed to call a tow service because the same thing had just happened to me.
"Oh, no thanks. We'll be fine. Its four wheel drive."
Oh okay, my bad. Mine was too. Have fun freezing your ass off. I'm in unit 18 if you need a number for a tow service, HA!
This morning when I woke up, a different car was stuck. Now, there is a car parked at the entrance like they were trying to leave and then decided to cut their losses.
And my neighbors decided to leave this morning also. However, the did not get so lucky either. They managed to back up a whole 15 feet before getting stuck. When I looked out there, one of them was wearing no shirt while trying to attempt to get the car back in place. Because thats smart. Two guys were pushing on the car, one shirtless, and at the same time that one was pushing, he was also attempting to drive... he was flooring it. I just kept invisioning the car finally breaking lose only to run into the building. It didn't happen, but a girl can dream.
The only good that came of my getting stuck... the tow guy told me if I get stuck again, to call him and he'll tow me for free. Aw.... Chivalry isn't dead.
I tried to upload pictures and a video of those guys trying to move the car... but my computer is acting up. I'll try again later.
I'm Not Insane!!!!
If at first you don't succeed, then try try again. The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again expecting a different result.
A few days ago, I posted about my attempt to get the same jar of pickles open for the last several months. WELL....
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THAT TODAY, YES TODAY, I MANAGED TO GET OPEN MY BOTTLE OF JEAN'S SWEET AND SPICY GARLIC PICKLES.
Today is going to be a good (snow) day.
A few days ago, I posted about my attempt to get the same jar of pickles open for the last several months. WELL....
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THAT TODAY, YES TODAY, I MANAGED TO GET OPEN MY BOTTLE OF JEAN'S SWEET AND SPICY GARLIC PICKLES.
Today is going to be a good (snow) day.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
TEN PERCENT
I love OSU. I grew up going to every OSU game. I had an OSU hat signed by the entire OSU basketball team.
In fact, one time I was in Chris’s University Spirit and a college student noticed my hat. She asked me if it was signed by the football team, to which I responded very quickly, “No, it’s signed by the basketball team.” In an effort to be nice to this enthusiast, young cowboy fan, she followed up and asked who my favorite player was. Before I got the chance to answer, my cousin Matt took the liberty of answering for me. “DOUG GOTTLIEB! She wants to marry him.” Cue the blood rushing to my face. And then she said it… “Oh, that’s my boyfriend.” Long story short, she got my address and mailed a picture of Doug on the couch with his dog a few weeks later. It’s stories like this that only fuel my love for OSU. We have amazing fans, tailgates, and orange is the greatest school color ever. But oh the tailgates.
As much as I love OSU, about 10% of the time, I like OU better. Allow me to explain.
On January 27, 2011, OU had a snow day. By 9:00am that day the streets were completely clear and there was absolutely NO ice or snow on the streets. I didn’t mind. I got to sleep in. They were worried about the ice so they cancelled class. That same day, OSU did not cancel… and yet from what I’ve heard they needed to a hell of a lot more than OU did. We are talking students falling down.
I can remember when I was in school, there was a day class was not cancelled… and it needed to be. Every time I happened to be outside, I would see student, after student, after professor of people slipping and falling and busting ass.
I saw people walking across the street and falling in the street. And yet, despite this continuing throughout the day, OSU administration failed to cancel class.
I am currently in class and approximately 30 minutes ago I received a text from the University of Oklahoma telling me school is officially cancelled tomorrow. As of 50 minutes ago, there was no snow on the ground and no freezing rain. According to my phone, it has not started raining yet.
Thank you OU. I don’t have to set an alarm tomorrow. I don’t know if you care about your students…. Or if you just like your sleep as much as we do. And frankly, I don’t give a damn. I will be partaking in anti-school activities tonight and I am very appreciative.
I like you, OU. But only 10% of the time.
P.S. If you cancel class Wednesday, I may up that figure to 15% of the time.
SINCE THE WRITING OF THIS POST... CLASS HAS SINCE BEEN CANCELED FOR WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2011. GUESS I LIKE OU 15% OF THE TIME NOW.
In fact, one time I was in Chris’s University Spirit and a college student noticed my hat. She asked me if it was signed by the football team, to which I responded very quickly, “No, it’s signed by the basketball team.” In an effort to be nice to this enthusiast, young cowboy fan, she followed up and asked who my favorite player was. Before I got the chance to answer, my cousin Matt took the liberty of answering for me. “DOUG GOTTLIEB! She wants to marry him.” Cue the blood rushing to my face. And then she said it… “Oh, that’s my boyfriend.” Long story short, she got my address and mailed a picture of Doug on the couch with his dog a few weeks later. It’s stories like this that only fuel my love for OSU. We have amazing fans, tailgates, and orange is the greatest school color ever. But oh the tailgates.
As much as I love OSU, about 10% of the time, I like OU better. Allow me to explain.
On January 27, 2011, OU had a snow day. By 9:00am that day the streets were completely clear and there was absolutely NO ice or snow on the streets. I didn’t mind. I got to sleep in. They were worried about the ice so they cancelled class. That same day, OSU did not cancel… and yet from what I’ve heard they needed to a hell of a lot more than OU did. We are talking students falling down.
I can remember when I was in school, there was a day class was not cancelled… and it needed to be. Every time I happened to be outside, I would see student, after student, after professor of people slipping and falling and busting ass.
I saw people walking across the street and falling in the street. And yet, despite this continuing throughout the day, OSU administration failed to cancel class.
I am currently in class and approximately 30 minutes ago I received a text from the University of Oklahoma telling me school is officially cancelled tomorrow. As of 50 minutes ago, there was no snow on the ground and no freezing rain. According to my phone, it has not started raining yet.
Thank you OU. I don’t have to set an alarm tomorrow. I don’t know if you care about your students…. Or if you just like your sleep as much as we do. And frankly, I don’t give a damn. I will be partaking in anti-school activities tonight and I am very appreciative.
I like you, OU. But only 10% of the time.
P.S. If you cancel class Wednesday, I may up that figure to 15% of the time.
SINCE THE WRITING OF THIS POST... CLASS HAS SINCE BEEN CANCELED FOR WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2011. GUESS I LIKE OU 15% OF THE TIME NOW.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Will You Accept This... Nice Kick in the Ass?
As ashamed as I am to admit this, I have been watching this season of the Bachelor. What began as intrigue has quickly escalated to something else, entirely.
I started watching because I thought it was pretty funny they were bringing back the Bachelor who turned down both girls. A part of me wonders who and the hell he thinks he is and another part of me is like, good for him. The song says “if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it.” Not, “if you are on national tv and you just like me ok than put a ring on it.”
After the first couple episodes, I began finding it hilarious. The girls are crying over a guy that they’ve probably only had one-on-one interaction for a total of 30 minutes. But now we are on episode four. We’ve had like 6 girls with one-on-one dates, so that means 14 hours of one-one-one time. More minutes, more hours, it totally ups the ante.
Now I’m watching the show because I want to continue seeing these girls make fools of themselves. DO THEY NOT REALIZE THIS SHOW IS NATIONALLY TELEVISED? We see how you are reacting. I had no idea girls cry so much, or have so many emotions and that is coming from someone that can cry over just about anything.
Dear Ashley H…. good luck having clients come get their cavity filled after seeing your behavior. Had I not known any better, I’d thought you were in high school.
Dear girls constantly crying to him (that includes Ashley H.)… I’m willing to be he gets annoyed. If you keep crying, he’s probably gonna kick your ass to the curb. I mean shit, I would.
Dear Michelle,… you are a crazy bitch. It’s a good thing for you that the Bachelor’s primary audience is women… if it were men, you’d have no chance in hell with anyone ever again. (Note to Brad, if you pick her, I will lose all faith in men. Check that, I will think you are dumb ass for eternity.)
And as for the writers/producers of the show… did you have the girls fill out a form that asked their biggest fear? Because I find it ironic that every one-on-one date has consisted of whichever girl is on that date’s biggest fear. Singing, deep water, heights? Good call. But now it’s getting predictable, please stop.
AS FOR TAKING THE GIRL WHOSE HUSBAND WAS A RACE CAR DRIVER AND DIED TO THE RACE TRACK FOR A DATE... RUDE.
For those of you who don’t watch this show, please ignore my rant.
Someday I hope to be on the Bachelor. And as “Prince Charming” drops to one knee to propose on the season finale, I will turn to the camera and yell, “HELL YEA!!! I WIN LINDA! YOU OWE ME $10.”
P.S. I plan on nominating a friend of mine to be the next Bachelor. In return, he promises to get every girl pregnant on the show… now think how awesome that “After the Final Rose” ceremony would be? How about them ratings?
I started watching because I thought it was pretty funny they were bringing back the Bachelor who turned down both girls. A part of me wonders who and the hell he thinks he is and another part of me is like, good for him. The song says “if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it.” Not, “if you are on national tv and you just like me ok than put a ring on it.”
After the first couple episodes, I began finding it hilarious. The girls are crying over a guy that they’ve probably only had one-on-one interaction for a total of 30 minutes. But now we are on episode four. We’ve had like 6 girls with one-on-one dates, so that means 14 hours of one-one-one time. More minutes, more hours, it totally ups the ante.
Now I’m watching the show because I want to continue seeing these girls make fools of themselves. DO THEY NOT REALIZE THIS SHOW IS NATIONALLY TELEVISED? We see how you are reacting. I had no idea girls cry so much, or have so many emotions and that is coming from someone that can cry over just about anything.
Dear Ashley H…. good luck having clients come get their cavity filled after seeing your behavior. Had I not known any better, I’d thought you were in high school.
Dear girls constantly crying to him (that includes Ashley H.)… I’m willing to be he gets annoyed. If you keep crying, he’s probably gonna kick your ass to the curb. I mean shit, I would.
Dear Michelle,… you are a crazy bitch. It’s a good thing for you that the Bachelor’s primary audience is women… if it were men, you’d have no chance in hell with anyone ever again. (Note to Brad, if you pick her, I will lose all faith in men. Check that, I will think you are dumb ass for eternity.)
And as for the writers/producers of the show… did you have the girls fill out a form that asked their biggest fear? Because I find it ironic that every one-on-one date has consisted of whichever girl is on that date’s biggest fear. Singing, deep water, heights? Good call. But now it’s getting predictable, please stop.
AS FOR TAKING THE GIRL WHOSE HUSBAND WAS A RACE CAR DRIVER AND DIED TO THE RACE TRACK FOR A DATE... RUDE.
For those of you who don’t watch this show, please ignore my rant.
Someday I hope to be on the Bachelor. And as “Prince Charming” drops to one knee to propose on the season finale, I will turn to the camera and yell, “HELL YEA!!! I WIN LINDA! YOU OWE ME $10.”
P.S. I plan on nominating a friend of mine to be the next Bachelor. In return, he promises to get every girl pregnant on the show… now think how awesome that “After the Final Rose” ceremony would be? How about them ratings?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
DMAFASA: Do me a favor and stop abbreviating.
I watch a lot of TV. I strive to get my reading done before primetime hits. I have a very strict schedule. Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays are very important days of the weeks. Luckily, most of my favorite TV shows don’t conflict… or else there would be hell to pay.
Lately, I have a new favorite: Castle. It is about a professional writer who begins shadowing his muse (a beautiful intimidating female detective) because he is besties with the mayor and gets permission to do so. It’s funny because they are so opposite of each other that as much as Detective Beckett gets annoyed with Castle, they actually grow to love each other… but of course never get together because what else would drive the audience to continue watching. JUST HOOK UP ALREADY.
Since being in law school, it is hard for me to take any show that is law related too seriously. I catch minor things that no ordinary individual would catch. For example, when people are taken down to the police station for questioning… that is actually an arrest, so most of the time the police in shows CANNOT do that because they don’t have probable cause. The individual must go either voluntarily or in handcuffs, there is no in between.
But to my point… I do not only find these shows as entertaining but I also find them hysterical, most often when they aren’t trying to be funny.
In Castle, the police detectives always abbreviate things. I suppose the writers think it makes the show sound more realistic; who knows maybe detective really do abbreviate things. But when it comes to abbreviations, I find them annoying. HBD is not a good substitution for Happy Birthday. If it isn’t a “big deal,” don’t tell me “NBD,” tell me “No Big Deal.” “BRB.” Wait where are you going?
The detectives abbreviate COD (cause of death) and several other things I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Abbreviations piss me off in general. But the things that really piss me off? Abbreviations that take longer to say than had you not abbreviated in the first place. NRA – I understand. It’s a lot easier to say NRA than “National Rifle Association.”
But GSW? Does anyone know what GSW stands for? You do if you watch Castle. GSW means gunshot wound. However, if you actually say G-S-W it takes longer than gunshot wound. Gunshot wound is only 3 syllables, GSW is 4.
Moral of the story… don’t’ abbreviate just to abbreviate. It’s annoying.
TTYL.
Lately, I have a new favorite: Castle. It is about a professional writer who begins shadowing his muse (a beautiful intimidating female detective) because he is besties with the mayor and gets permission to do so. It’s funny because they are so opposite of each other that as much as Detective Beckett gets annoyed with Castle, they actually grow to love each other… but of course never get together because what else would drive the audience to continue watching. JUST HOOK UP ALREADY.
Since being in law school, it is hard for me to take any show that is law related too seriously. I catch minor things that no ordinary individual would catch. For example, when people are taken down to the police station for questioning… that is actually an arrest, so most of the time the police in shows CANNOT do that because they don’t have probable cause. The individual must go either voluntarily or in handcuffs, there is no in between.
But to my point… I do not only find these shows as entertaining but I also find them hysterical, most often when they aren’t trying to be funny.
In Castle, the police detectives always abbreviate things. I suppose the writers think it makes the show sound more realistic; who knows maybe detective really do abbreviate things. But when it comes to abbreviations, I find them annoying. HBD is not a good substitution for Happy Birthday. If it isn’t a “big deal,” don’t tell me “NBD,” tell me “No Big Deal.” “BRB.” Wait where are you going?
The detectives abbreviate COD (cause of death) and several other things I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Abbreviations piss me off in general. But the things that really piss me off? Abbreviations that take longer to say than had you not abbreviated in the first place. NRA – I understand. It’s a lot easier to say NRA than “National Rifle Association.”
But GSW? Does anyone know what GSW stands for? You do if you watch Castle. GSW means gunshot wound. However, if you actually say G-S-W it takes longer than gunshot wound. Gunshot wound is only 3 syllables, GSW is 4.
Moral of the story… don’t’ abbreviate just to abbreviate. It’s annoying.
TTYL.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
If At First You Don't Succeed...
Everyone knows the saying "If at first you don't succeed, then try try again." It is the cliche' individuals so often hear in times of failure. As children everyone heard this. In fact the saying's popularity has been linked back to getting American schoolchildren to do their homework. It was a montra. The lesson behind it... Don't give up... (And do your damn homework.)
A favorite song of mine has a line that is repeated throughout the entire song, "Whether you fall means nothing at all, it's whether you get up." It has the same meaning. Instilling in all of us the value of hard work and determination.
So you all probably understand my confusion reconciling that famous quote with another famous quote. This quote however, was from none other than genius Albert Einstein (the quote has also been attributed to Ben Franklin... but lets be honest, Albert Einstein makes my point so much better.) It goes a little something like this:
"Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result."
I have a jar of pickles in my refrigerator. It has been in my refrigerator for about 5 months now. Every week or so, I attempt to open the jar of pickles. And about every week or so, I fail. I have tried using rubber oven mits. I have tried banging it on the table. I have tried everything short of taking a freakin' hammer to the glass. I want those damn pickles. They are spicy and sweet and garlic. YUM.
My question is: After how long will my attempts go from determination to insanity? I've not given up. But at the same time, nothing ever changes. No matter how many times I attempt to open those pickles, it probably just isn't going to happen. Am I hardworking or just a little special? I'll leave that up to you.
In the meantime, someone needs to get in contact with Albert and Ben and whoever came up with that other quote and have them reconcile their differences. I think a debate is in order.
A favorite song of mine has a line that is repeated throughout the entire song, "Whether you fall means nothing at all, it's whether you get up." It has the same meaning. Instilling in all of us the value of hard work and determination.
So you all probably understand my confusion reconciling that famous quote with another famous quote. This quote however, was from none other than genius Albert Einstein (the quote has also been attributed to Ben Franklin... but lets be honest, Albert Einstein makes my point so much better.) It goes a little something like this:
"Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result."
I have a jar of pickles in my refrigerator. It has been in my refrigerator for about 5 months now. Every week or so, I attempt to open the jar of pickles. And about every week or so, I fail. I have tried using rubber oven mits. I have tried banging it on the table. I have tried everything short of taking a freakin' hammer to the glass. I want those damn pickles. They are spicy and sweet and garlic. YUM.
My question is: After how long will my attempts go from determination to insanity? I've not given up. But at the same time, nothing ever changes. No matter how many times I attempt to open those pickles, it probably just isn't going to happen. Am I hardworking or just a little special? I'll leave that up to you.
In the meantime, someone needs to get in contact with Albert and Ben and whoever came up with that other quote and have them reconcile their differences. I think a debate is in order.
Friday, January 21, 2011
If Only Norman Had a Lounge Act Like Marty and Elaine.
Last night the law school had a get together at McNellie's as sort of a welcome back to school party. About 3 hours in to this party, everyone was feeling good, everyone had a few drinks down, and then something horrible happened. The unspeakable when it comes to law students. Someone announced that grades were up. AWESOME. The night took a quick turn for the worst.
Some friends, including myself, chose to check their grades on their phones... God love technology. Others, however, chose to exercise patience. Something I do not pretend to have, although I'm told its a virtue.
My grades weren't horrible... they weren't the best, but I could be less fortunate. My grades have consistently gotten worse in the three semesters I've been in law school. I don't know if I'm losing brain cells or if everyone else is just getting smarter... or perhaps the amount of preparation I put into exams has grown which gives me less motivation to actually study the materials I've prepared.
Regardless, after I checked my grades I did what only one could do in a situation like that.... SHOTS FOR EVERYONE! Ok not everyone, but several of my friends.
As I was sitting their "drowning" my sorrows (which keep in mind I had a 9:30am class so my drowning did not consist of much) I wanted one thing in my life.... MARTY AND ELAINE.
Marty and Elaine... about a 65+ year old couple of lounge singers in Los Angeles. They played at a bar called The Dresden and they were HIGHlarious. Elaine played the piano, Marty played the drums and then they had a bass player who looked like he was still coked out from the 80s. Marty and Elaine each took turns sharing the miche.
The most fascinating aspect of their act was Elaine. She too looked coked out. She had this sort of Ray Charles/staring off blindly with a goofy ass smile on her face while playing the piano thing going on. And every so often she would stand up and play her keyboard while scatting.
Yes, scatting. She was a scatter. She would slam her fingers down on her keyboard, which was tuned like an organ, and begin squealing off high pitch skats. Most the time you could not make out what exactly she was singing, but you know I recorded it. BECAUSE IT WAS FABULOUS.
She scatted. She sang. She played... oh and she also used scotch tape to tape her bang curl in place. You could see the shiniest of it when you looked at her. It was great.
Bottom Line: Whenever you are having a bad day... think of Elaine and Marty and the happiness they bring to the lives of so many.
Below are pictures of Elaine jammin' out... and also a video clip which was from when Elaine whipped out her flute.
Some friends, including myself, chose to check their grades on their phones... God love technology. Others, however, chose to exercise patience. Something I do not pretend to have, although I'm told its a virtue.
My grades weren't horrible... they weren't the best, but I could be less fortunate. My grades have consistently gotten worse in the three semesters I've been in law school. I don't know if I'm losing brain cells or if everyone else is just getting smarter... or perhaps the amount of preparation I put into exams has grown which gives me less motivation to actually study the materials I've prepared.
Regardless, after I checked my grades I did what only one could do in a situation like that.... SHOTS FOR EVERYONE! Ok not everyone, but several of my friends.
As I was sitting their "drowning" my sorrows (which keep in mind I had a 9:30am class so my drowning did not consist of much) I wanted one thing in my life.... MARTY AND ELAINE.
Marty and Elaine... about a 65+ year old couple of lounge singers in Los Angeles. They played at a bar called The Dresden and they were HIGHlarious. Elaine played the piano, Marty played the drums and then they had a bass player who looked like he was still coked out from the 80s. Marty and Elaine each took turns sharing the miche.
The most fascinating aspect of their act was Elaine. She too looked coked out. She had this sort of Ray Charles/staring off blindly with a goofy ass smile on her face while playing the piano thing going on. And every so often she would stand up and play her keyboard while scatting.
Yes, scatting. She was a scatter. She would slam her fingers down on her keyboard, which was tuned like an organ, and begin squealing off high pitch skats. Most the time you could not make out what exactly she was singing, but you know I recorded it. BECAUSE IT WAS FABULOUS.
She scatted. She sang. She played... oh and she also used scotch tape to tape her bang curl in place. You could see the shiniest of it when you looked at her. It was great.
Bottom Line: Whenever you are having a bad day... think of Elaine and Marty and the happiness they bring to the lives of so many.
Below are pictures of Elaine jammin' out... and also a video clip which was from when Elaine whipped out her flute.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
My Dog Thinks I Drink Too Much
One time my mother thought my dog had shit on the floor of the new house. When my mother confronted her, she cowardly crawled away and then refused to give my mom a kiss. For my mother's dogs this is incriminating evidence. If Poquito or Penny hides from my mother after an "accident" has been found, it means they are guilty. For Tegan, however, this is not always the case.
You see, Tegan thinks I drink too much. Whenever she smells alcohol on me, she stages her version of an intervention. When my mom began explaining to me how it had to be Tegan because she was acting ashamed, I quickly clarified my dog's actions.
"Mom, try to kiss her."
"Maddie, I'm not going to try to kiss your dog."
"No... seriously. I want to prove something to you. Try to kiss her."
Mom leaned in to give Tegan a kiss and she turned her head away from my mothers giving her the cold cheek.
"Now its my turn... Tegan, give momma a kiss."
Again, cold cheek.
"Melissa, try to kiss Tegan."
"No."
"No really, kiss her, I'm trying to prove she's innocent."
Melissa leaned in to kiss Tegan and Tegan kissed her. Mother and I had gone through two bottles of wine. Tegan could smell the alcohol on me, and when she smells alcohol on me, she keeps her distance. Not because I'm an abusive drunk... the exact opposite actually. I'm extremely affectionate. So affectionate, in fact, that I will come home and chase her around the house so I can hold her. Sometimes she lets me pick her up, and sometimes the act of bending over off-sets my balance and I stumbled onto the floor, her in my arms. She doesn't not care for that.
Today on my way to drop my car off, I found thought Tegan was acting strangely. She was keeping her distance and very cautiously keeping the corner of her eye on me at all times. And she was shaking. I called my sister curious if she was slammed to the floor board when staying with her, but Melissa denied it.
When I got off the phone, it hit me. She thinks I've been drinking. I was chewing a watermelon gum that smelled somewhat like Four Loko... she thought I was drunk.... and driving.
After having a conversation, I told her Mama wasn't drunk and I spit my gum out to prove it to her... she didn't believe me until the smell finally faded from my mouth.
Trust.
You see, Tegan thinks I drink too much. Whenever she smells alcohol on me, she stages her version of an intervention. When my mom began explaining to me how it had to be Tegan because she was acting ashamed, I quickly clarified my dog's actions.
"Mom, try to kiss her."
"Maddie, I'm not going to try to kiss your dog."
"No... seriously. I want to prove something to you. Try to kiss her."
Mom leaned in to give Tegan a kiss and she turned her head away from my mothers giving her the cold cheek.
"Now its my turn... Tegan, give momma a kiss."
Again, cold cheek.
"Melissa, try to kiss Tegan."
"No."
"No really, kiss her, I'm trying to prove she's innocent."
Melissa leaned in to kiss Tegan and Tegan kissed her. Mother and I had gone through two bottles of wine. Tegan could smell the alcohol on me, and when she smells alcohol on me, she keeps her distance. Not because I'm an abusive drunk... the exact opposite actually. I'm extremely affectionate. So affectionate, in fact, that I will come home and chase her around the house so I can hold her. Sometimes she lets me pick her up, and sometimes the act of bending over off-sets my balance and I stumbled onto the floor, her in my arms. She doesn't not care for that.
Today on my way to drop my car off, I found thought Tegan was acting strangely. She was keeping her distance and very cautiously keeping the corner of her eye on me at all times. And she was shaking. I called my sister curious if she was slammed to the floor board when staying with her, but Melissa denied it.
When I got off the phone, it hit me. She thinks I've been drinking. I was chewing a watermelon gum that smelled somewhat like Four Loko... she thought I was drunk.... and driving.
After having a conversation, I told her Mama wasn't drunk and I spit my gum out to prove it to her... she didn't believe me until the smell finally faded from my mouth.
Trust.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Scratches on the Door Knob
Man, I Loved College.
In the past I have shared with you all that my friends and I could have very easily been the center of a reality TV show. I’m pretty sure two of them still could. In effort to show you all just how much truth there is to this statement, I will share with you the following story.
Once upon a time in the magical city of Stillwater, there lived four very mischievous girls. They liked to go out on the weekends, never took life too seriously, but always managed to make good grades and appear responsible.
On one particular evening, these girls threw a party at their house. It was hopping. What started out as a group project for one of the girls, quickly escalated into a 20+ person party which included the other three of her roomies.
Side note: If you asked the landlord who lived there, he would only know of three total. The fourth was kept a secret. The girls went to such great efforts to hide this fact, that whenever they knew of the landlord coming to the house to fix anything or show the house, the two who shared a room would push their double beds together, and since they had the same bed spread, it appeared to be a bed built for either a giant, or an 800-pound man. One time, the landlord was showing the house to some girls and they asked about the giant ass bed… the response? It was an “Ultimate King.” The sad thing is those girls believed it.
Back to the story.
As time went on, the girls got hungry. Three of them went to a pancake house in town, one was left behind so she went to her sorority house which was just around the corner to cause a ruckus. She woke up her friends still in house, was very loud and stayed up watching youtube videos until the wee hours. Then she decided to go home.
Still somewhat extremely intoxicated, she went to open her front door… she had the key but when she unlocked the door and pushed it open, it would not open. She stopped and thought to herself… this is just my mind playing tricks on me, I will close it and then try again…. Yea, nope pretty sure the door WAS in fact chained. So she did the next logical thing… began screaming through the crack in the door. When that didn’t work, she scaled the balcony of her house. You see, the balcony door was closer to her roommates’ window, so she thought that surely the banging would wake them up. She banged and yelled at her roommates for approximately 7-9 minutes. Nothing.
She failed in waking up her roommates, but succeeded in waking up her neighbors. The neighbors opened up their window and said,
“Maddie, what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, did I wake you up?” (I mean it wasn’t like I was yelling at 3am or anything.) “Sorry, Linda and Katie locked me out and my phone is dead.”
“Come over here, you can sleep on our couch.”
“No, its okay, I just need a pair of needle nose pliers.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get down.”
You see, Maddie had remembered the time they had a pre-party at their house and people were using the back door… but in the process, the door knob was broken off. It was so difficult to lock the door, that the girls didn’t worry about locking it back because there was no door knob so how could anyone possibly get in?
She scaled back down the balcony, extremely lucky she did not break her neck and went over to her very gracious neighbors.
“Do you have any needle nose pliers?”
They looked for a while and then found some. One of the kind neighbors escorted her back over to her house with a flashlight, because it was very obvious to them that she was still intoxicated and not very obvious what exactly she was attempting to do. As they held the flashlight ever so steadily, Maddie succeeded in breaking into her own home. She went to the front door, unchained it and then returned the pliers.
She marched up her stairs, turned the lights on in her roommates’ room, jumped on her them, and screamed at them for the next 3 minutes… she manage to get a few moans out of them, but neither of them awoke. There would be hell to pay in the morning, she thought.
She went downstairs to turn the lights off, and her other roommate Michelle stumbled home. A 5-minute rant began and Maddie told Michelle the whole story…. Michelle rather oblivious while she dominated a mini microwavable pizza.
The next morning, Maddie recanted the whole story to all of the roommates.
This is not where this story ends, however. Several weeks later, the dumbasses (Katie and Linda) who like to pass out decided to chain themselves in, yet again. This time Maddie was out of town and it was Michelle who was locked out. She woke up the neighbors in her attempt to break into the home and remembered Maddie’s little story. She got a pair of needle nose pliers and went to the back door to do a little Maddie/James Bond action to break into the house. She was not so successful.
The next morning Michelle called Maddie and told her about how she had tried to get into the back door with pliers for a good 20-30 minutes before giving up. Maddie laughed hysterical.
“What?” Michelle asked.
“Well, the only reason that worked for me was because there was no door knob at the time. I have since put the door knob back on.”
“Oh.”
To this day, Maddie wonders what exactly Michelle was using those needle nose pliers on…. For 20-30 minutes…
In the past I have shared with you all that my friends and I could have very easily been the center of a reality TV show. I’m pretty sure two of them still could. In effort to show you all just how much truth there is to this statement, I will share with you the following story.
Once upon a time in the magical city of Stillwater, there lived four very mischievous girls. They liked to go out on the weekends, never took life too seriously, but always managed to make good grades and appear responsible.
On one particular evening, these girls threw a party at their house. It was hopping. What started out as a group project for one of the girls, quickly escalated into a 20+ person party which included the other three of her roomies.
Side note: If you asked the landlord who lived there, he would only know of three total. The fourth was kept a secret. The girls went to such great efforts to hide this fact, that whenever they knew of the landlord coming to the house to fix anything or show the house, the two who shared a room would push their double beds together, and since they had the same bed spread, it appeared to be a bed built for either a giant, or an 800-pound man. One time, the landlord was showing the house to some girls and they asked about the giant ass bed… the response? It was an “Ultimate King.” The sad thing is those girls believed it.
Back to the story.
As time went on, the girls got hungry. Three of them went to a pancake house in town, one was left behind so she went to her sorority house which was just around the corner to cause a ruckus. She woke up her friends still in house, was very loud and stayed up watching youtube videos until the wee hours. Then she decided to go home.
Still somewhat extremely intoxicated, she went to open her front door… she had the key but when she unlocked the door and pushed it open, it would not open. She stopped and thought to herself… this is just my mind playing tricks on me, I will close it and then try again…. Yea, nope pretty sure the door WAS in fact chained. So she did the next logical thing… began screaming through the crack in the door. When that didn’t work, she scaled the balcony of her house. You see, the balcony door was closer to her roommates’ window, so she thought that surely the banging would wake them up. She banged and yelled at her roommates for approximately 7-9 minutes. Nothing.
She failed in waking up her roommates, but succeeded in waking up her neighbors. The neighbors opened up their window and said,
“Maddie, what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, did I wake you up?” (I mean it wasn’t like I was yelling at 3am or anything.) “Sorry, Linda and Katie locked me out and my phone is dead.”
“Come over here, you can sleep on our couch.”
“No, its okay, I just need a pair of needle nose pliers.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get down.”
You see, Maddie had remembered the time they had a pre-party at their house and people were using the back door… but in the process, the door knob was broken off. It was so difficult to lock the door, that the girls didn’t worry about locking it back because there was no door knob so how could anyone possibly get in?
She scaled back down the balcony, extremely lucky she did not break her neck and went over to her very gracious neighbors.
“Do you have any needle nose pliers?”
They looked for a while and then found some. One of the kind neighbors escorted her back over to her house with a flashlight, because it was very obvious to them that she was still intoxicated and not very obvious what exactly she was attempting to do. As they held the flashlight ever so steadily, Maddie succeeded in breaking into her own home. She went to the front door, unchained it and then returned the pliers.
She marched up her stairs, turned the lights on in her roommates’ room, jumped on her them, and screamed at them for the next 3 minutes… she manage to get a few moans out of them, but neither of them awoke. There would be hell to pay in the morning, she thought.
She went downstairs to turn the lights off, and her other roommate Michelle stumbled home. A 5-minute rant began and Maddie told Michelle the whole story…. Michelle rather oblivious while she dominated a mini microwavable pizza.
The next morning, Maddie recanted the whole story to all of the roommates.
This is not where this story ends, however. Several weeks later, the dumbasses (Katie and Linda) who like to pass out decided to chain themselves in, yet again. This time Maddie was out of town and it was Michelle who was locked out. She woke up the neighbors in her attempt to break into the home and remembered Maddie’s little story. She got a pair of needle nose pliers and went to the back door to do a little Maddie/James Bond action to break into the house. She was not so successful.
The next morning Michelle called Maddie and told her about how she had tried to get into the back door with pliers for a good 20-30 minutes before giving up. Maddie laughed hysterical.
“What?” Michelle asked.
“Well, the only reason that worked for me was because there was no door knob at the time. I have since put the door knob back on.”
“Oh.”
To this day, Maddie wonders what exactly Michelle was using those needle nose pliers on…. For 20-30 minutes…
Outsourcing to India
Bottom Line: It's a bad idea. Anytime you set up a system where people from English-speaking countries call people from non-English-speaking countries but are pretending to be English-speaking is a joke. Placing someone on the other end of the phone who only knows "How may I help you?" "Where are you traveling to?" "What is your call-fir-mash-in code?" and "Can you please repeat the question?" Leads to one thing and one thing only: Impatience.
My sister, a friend of mine, and I were supposed to travel to LA this coming weekend to visit my cousin. Seeing as sista-girl is now eating for two, she thinks it best she stay behind. She doesn't want to hold us back while shopping since now she requires naps... plus she's been battling a cold. The problem with Melissa canceling her ticket is the fact that she had a reservation to bring my cousin's dog back to her in LA. When Melissa canceled the ticket... she canceled Toby. My cousin added the pet reservation to begin with, but seeing as its only 8:35am in LA, we were both willing to bet she'd still be asleep, so I called because I am far more intelligent then my sister (hahaha).
The first time I called United, I spoke with a nice young woman who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. (I'm sure her name was Sarasvati which means "Goddess of Learning" in Hindu, but for this story we will call her Sara.) When I told Sara that I was wanting to transfer the pet reservation from one ticket to the other, she told me they don't make pet reservations and I would have to call Cargo. Sara then gave me a number to call. I was already annoyed.
When I called Cargo, the first automated response I heard was "If you are calling about traveling with a pet in the cabin or checking a pet to travel in the undercarriage, please call" THE NUMBER THAT YOU GOT AHOLD OF SARA AT. More annoyed.
I was almost hoping that when I called the same number I had just dialed only minutes previously, that I would get ahold of Sara again and tell her she was wrong. Instead I got ahold of the man I'm contemplating having fired. (For this story we will call him Asshole.)
Whenever Asshole answered, I explained what was going on... I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. So then he just asked for my call form number.
"My what?"
"Call form number."
"Okay, you are asking for my call form number?"
"Excuse me, your callfirm-ation number."
"Oh okay, the one on my trip itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"Could you repeat the question?"
"Do you want the number on my itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"I'm sorry could you repeat the question?"
THIS HAD TO END. I'm pretty sure he asked me a total of 4 times to repeat the question. At which point I lost all patience. I was yelling into the phone really slowly because I thought that might help him understand better. "DO YOU WANT THE NUMBER FOR MY TICKETS OR THE NUMBER FOR THE PET?"
I think he finally gave up because he was losing patience to, although I'm not sure why... I mean shit, I speak English just fine. I speak it so well, in fact, that I have chose to make it my primary language, forsaking all others. He then just told me to give him a number. So I gave him the number that said "confirmation" by it. He asked for another number. Um, okay.... So I gave him my ticket number. FINALLY SUCCESS. Then when we began discussing, again, what I needed done, he asked me for my confirmation number again.
"Well, I already gave it to you, but okay..... here it is again."
"Well, it isn't popping up in the computer."
"Sorry, don't know what to tell you I'm looking at the number that says confirmation by it its... G as in girl, B as in boy, 8, 9, R as in Road and I as in Island."
"Okay I found it."
I lost all faith in this man. I'm almost positive the problem was that he wasn't not entirely familiarized with the English alphabet. He heard it, but didn't know what it looked like on the keyboard. He had NO problem with the 12-digit number I gave him, but the 4-letters in my 6 digit code posed problems for him until I gave them in a word. I know it wasn't me just saying them wrong, because I had given it to him like 4 times at this point... he was BIG fan of making me repeat myself.
He confirmed that the pet reservation was on the itinerary (thats not the word he used though, its too big). I told him I wanted it transferred from the passenger it was on, to my name. He was a bit confused but then he went silent.
"Okay, I have the reservation for the first flight, do you want me to add it to the second?" Forgetting that I was flying one way to LA and not stopping, I said yes.... but then immediately corrected myself... "No, no, no. The dog isn't traveling back with us."
Now he was plain concerned/confused/annoyed/pissing me off.
"I just need a pet reservation from OKC to LAX... he is staying in LA."
"Um............(long silence)."
I'm worried that he isn't quite understanding of the task I have given him so I kindly and calmly ask if it would be a better idea for me to be transferred to someone who understands me a little bit... Bad idea.
"I am helping you!" He responds.
"Yes I know, but I'm just worried you don't quite understand what I'm asking you." (He did ask me to repeat myself 4 times. Proof.)
"I understand, I cancelled the reservation for the pet on Mel-eees-a to Mad-a-leen."
"Oh okay, good. You just sounded a bit confused."
Now that I've pissed him off, I'm worried he could screw with my shit so I ask him to send me a confirmation that the pet reservation has been moved to my name. I give him my email... which took some time... and he says the email was sent.
"The email has been sent, you should receive it shortly."
"Alright, thank you."
AND HERE IS THE BEST PART OF THE STORY.... HE SAID:
"KAY, BYE." And hung up.
I started laughing hysterically. That is definately not in the protocol of ways to hang up. Normally, the drag the conversation for an additional 30 seconds with all the shit they have to say.
Hopefully, that conversation was recorded for evaluation purposes and his boss gets as big of a kick out of it as I did... (I'm hoping for a demotion.)
When I checked my email to see the confirmation he sent me... He sent me the travel itinerary I had been reading off the entire time. It says nothing about a pet reservation.
I will now call and speak to another operator to double check that Asshole didn't delete my reservation. Wish me luck.
My sister, a friend of mine, and I were supposed to travel to LA this coming weekend to visit my cousin. Seeing as sista-girl is now eating for two, she thinks it best she stay behind. She doesn't want to hold us back while shopping since now she requires naps... plus she's been battling a cold. The problem with Melissa canceling her ticket is the fact that she had a reservation to bring my cousin's dog back to her in LA. When Melissa canceled the ticket... she canceled Toby. My cousin added the pet reservation to begin with, but seeing as its only 8:35am in LA, we were both willing to bet she'd still be asleep, so I called because I am far more intelligent then my sister (hahaha).
The first time I called United, I spoke with a nice young woman who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. (I'm sure her name was Sarasvati which means "Goddess of Learning" in Hindu, but for this story we will call her Sara.) When I told Sara that I was wanting to transfer the pet reservation from one ticket to the other, she told me they don't make pet reservations and I would have to call Cargo. Sara then gave me a number to call. I was already annoyed.
When I called Cargo, the first automated response I heard was "If you are calling about traveling with a pet in the cabin or checking a pet to travel in the undercarriage, please call" THE NUMBER THAT YOU GOT AHOLD OF SARA AT. More annoyed.
I was almost hoping that when I called the same number I had just dialed only minutes previously, that I would get ahold of Sara again and tell her she was wrong. Instead I got ahold of the man I'm contemplating having fired. (For this story we will call him Asshole.)
Whenever Asshole answered, I explained what was going on... I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. So then he just asked for my call form number.
"My what?"
"Call form number."
"Okay, you are asking for my call form number?"
"Excuse me, your callfirm-ation number."
"Oh okay, the one on my trip itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"Could you repeat the question?"
"Do you want the number on my itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"I'm sorry could you repeat the question?"
THIS HAD TO END. I'm pretty sure he asked me a total of 4 times to repeat the question. At which point I lost all patience. I was yelling into the phone really slowly because I thought that might help him understand better. "DO YOU WANT THE NUMBER FOR MY TICKETS OR THE NUMBER FOR THE PET?"
I think he finally gave up because he was losing patience to, although I'm not sure why... I mean shit, I speak English just fine. I speak it so well, in fact, that I have chose to make it my primary language, forsaking all others. He then just told me to give him a number. So I gave him the number that said "confirmation" by it. He asked for another number. Um, okay.... So I gave him my ticket number. FINALLY SUCCESS. Then when we began discussing, again, what I needed done, he asked me for my confirmation number again.
"Well, I already gave it to you, but okay..... here it is again."
"Well, it isn't popping up in the computer."
"Sorry, don't know what to tell you I'm looking at the number that says confirmation by it its... G as in girl, B as in boy, 8, 9, R as in Road and I as in Island."
"Okay I found it."
I lost all faith in this man. I'm almost positive the problem was that he wasn't not entirely familiarized with the English alphabet. He heard it, but didn't know what it looked like on the keyboard. He had NO problem with the 12-digit number I gave him, but the 4-letters in my 6 digit code posed problems for him until I gave them in a word. I know it wasn't me just saying them wrong, because I had given it to him like 4 times at this point... he was BIG fan of making me repeat myself.
He confirmed that the pet reservation was on the itinerary (thats not the word he used though, its too big). I told him I wanted it transferred from the passenger it was on, to my name. He was a bit confused but then he went silent.
"Okay, I have the reservation for the first flight, do you want me to add it to the second?" Forgetting that I was flying one way to LA and not stopping, I said yes.... but then immediately corrected myself... "No, no, no. The dog isn't traveling back with us."
Now he was plain concerned/confused/annoyed/pissing me off.
"I just need a pet reservation from OKC to LAX... he is staying in LA."
"Um............(long silence)."
I'm worried that he isn't quite understanding of the task I have given him so I kindly and calmly ask if it would be a better idea for me to be transferred to someone who understands me a little bit... Bad idea.
"I am helping you!" He responds.
"Yes I know, but I'm just worried you don't quite understand what I'm asking you." (He did ask me to repeat myself 4 times. Proof.)
"I understand, I cancelled the reservation for the pet on Mel-eees-a to Mad-a-leen."
"Oh okay, good. You just sounded a bit confused."
Now that I've pissed him off, I'm worried he could screw with my shit so I ask him to send me a confirmation that the pet reservation has been moved to my name. I give him my email... which took some time... and he says the email was sent.
"The email has been sent, you should receive it shortly."
"Alright, thank you."
AND HERE IS THE BEST PART OF THE STORY.... HE SAID:
"KAY, BYE." And hung up.
I started laughing hysterically. That is definately not in the protocol of ways to hang up. Normally, the drag the conversation for an additional 30 seconds with all the shit they have to say.
Hopefully, that conversation was recorded for evaluation purposes and his boss gets as big of a kick out of it as I did... (I'm hoping for a demotion.)
When I checked my email to see the confirmation he sent me... He sent me the travel itinerary I had been reading off the entire time. It says nothing about a pet reservation.
I will now call and speak to another operator to double check that Asshole didn't delete my reservation. Wish me luck.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Do you smell bacon?
I love overweight policemen. I find it hilarious that a police officer CAN be overweight. What happens when a cop sees a crime take place and is forced to pursue the perp? They sure as hell aren’t going to catch them.
Of the time cops are on duty, I wonder what percent of that time is spent eating. The donut jokes must come from somewhere… (My favorite being: “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Response: “Cause you think I have donuts in here.”)
My particular fondness for fat cops was sent to an all time high last night on my drive home from Oklahoma City. I had just gotten my hair done and it took a lot longer than I had imagined, so I was running a bit late. I decided to stop to pick up dinner for my family at PF Changs and then high-tail it back home.
I was making excellent time. I was within 20ish minutes of Enid City Limits when I hear an EHHHHH EHHHH EHHHHH EHHHHHH…. My fuzz buster was going off. I slam on my brakes then I see flashing lights in the opposite lane. The cop had passed me and I just knew he was going to turn around and pull me over. I had been going at least 20+ over the speed limit. Then the most amazing thing happened. Something I’ve never seen take place in the almost 8 years I’ve been driving…. He turned his lights back off and kept going. WHAAAA?????
I was curious… What would drive this police officer to be so kind as to not write me a $300 speeding ticket? My family are regulars on 74… we are also regular speeders… I’m sure the entire highway patrol is familiar with our last name.
But then I looked down, saw the time and realized it was like 6:30pm… The answer was staring me blank in the fact…. That Po was going home for dinner!
He must’ve been fat.
Of the time cops are on duty, I wonder what percent of that time is spent eating. The donut jokes must come from somewhere… (My favorite being: “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Response: “Cause you think I have donuts in here.”)
My particular fondness for fat cops was sent to an all time high last night on my drive home from Oklahoma City. I had just gotten my hair done and it took a lot longer than I had imagined, so I was running a bit late. I decided to stop to pick up dinner for my family at PF Changs and then high-tail it back home.
I was making excellent time. I was within 20ish minutes of Enid City Limits when I hear an EHHHHH EHHHH EHHHHH EHHHHHH…. My fuzz buster was going off. I slam on my brakes then I see flashing lights in the opposite lane. The cop had passed me and I just knew he was going to turn around and pull me over. I had been going at least 20+ over the speed limit. Then the most amazing thing happened. Something I’ve never seen take place in the almost 8 years I’ve been driving…. He turned his lights back off and kept going. WHAAAA?????
I was curious… What would drive this police officer to be so kind as to not write me a $300 speeding ticket? My family are regulars on 74… we are also regular speeders… I’m sure the entire highway patrol is familiar with our last name.
But then I looked down, saw the time and realized it was like 6:30pm… The answer was staring me blank in the fact…. That Po was going home for dinner!
He must’ve been fat.
Friday, January 7, 2011
I Got My Sister Pregnant
For the past month, I’ve constantly teased my sister about the fact that she could be pregnant. I’ve sent her congratulations at random. I’ve lifted her jacket and patted her belly in public. I virtually pretend she’s pregnant, despite her constant denials. My sister didn't plan on having children until her and her husband had been married for 2-3 years.
Her husband, however, began bribing her with larger jewelry were she to get pregnant within in the first year of marriage... had he gotten his way, sister would've been knocked up on the honeymoon.
My brother-in-law wanted to get her pregnant so bad, whenever we got in fights, I'd tell him I'd poke holes in their condoms if he forgave me. (Birth control makes my sister go crazy… so that is just not an option for her.)
Not only did my brother-in-law want her to get pregnant, but he wanted twins. Twins run in his family. So whenever I'd joke about Melissa being pregnant, Daniel would add by saying it was with twins.
Every year for Christmas, my uncle gets us all gag gifts and say they were from Santa. For the past couple of years, I’ve wanted in on the action so people get two gifts from Santa. This year my sister got three.
I forgot what she got from my uncle, but I got a bag that said “Bull Shit disposal on it.” Like the vomit bag on airplanes, but for bull shit… he said every lawyer needs one. But I'd gotten her two gifts... one from me-Santa and one from mystery-Santa. I didn’t want her to know that a particular one was from me because I was willing to bet she wouldn't be thrilled.
The Me-Santa got her a little piggy bank that was a fat cow with a purse that said shopping fund… The Mystery-Santa got her a book for mothers expecting multiples. I don't know why I bothered with two gifts... it was very obvious I got it for her. She did not share her new book with the rest of the family, my father did, but she just grabbed it from him and hid it. I had no idea why she was so particular angered. Could it be the fact I got her husband a bag full of condoms with ice-pick-sized holes in them? Or was it the book for expecting mothers? It could've been the fact that I got my mom in on the action. Despite all of our constant teasing... not one family member noticed the fact Melissa wasn't drinking alcohol.
The next morning I found out why Sister was so annoyed... because we were right. On Christmas morning, my sister and brother-in-law announced that family planning does not work and they were with child.
I was in shock. Not because my sister was pregnant, but because I'm pretty sure I got her pregnant. I told her she was pregnant. I told my mom she was pregnant. I patted her belly... telling her body she was pregnant. I put the fact she was pregnant out into nature.
The Secret - Ask. Believe. Receive. I didn’t know it was possible for me to get my sister pregnant, but I guess it is.
In a matter of 2 months, I will have a nephew named Lewy… and in 6 months I will have a possible another nephew or a niece. I'm pretty excited about being an aunt. I've already begun playing GaGa for these little peanuts in the womb... gotta lead them in the right direction, you know.
Now I'm just wondering what I should ask for next.... Hey Michelle... Do you and Adam want children yet?
Her husband, however, began bribing her with larger jewelry were she to get pregnant within in the first year of marriage... had he gotten his way, sister would've been knocked up on the honeymoon.
My brother-in-law wanted to get her pregnant so bad, whenever we got in fights, I'd tell him I'd poke holes in their condoms if he forgave me. (Birth control makes my sister go crazy… so that is just not an option for her.)
Not only did my brother-in-law want her to get pregnant, but he wanted twins. Twins run in his family. So whenever I'd joke about Melissa being pregnant, Daniel would add by saying it was with twins.
Every year for Christmas, my uncle gets us all gag gifts and say they were from Santa. For the past couple of years, I’ve wanted in on the action so people get two gifts from Santa. This year my sister got three.
I forgot what she got from my uncle, but I got a bag that said “Bull Shit disposal on it.” Like the vomit bag on airplanes, but for bull shit… he said every lawyer needs one. But I'd gotten her two gifts... one from me-Santa and one from mystery-Santa. I didn’t want her to know that a particular one was from me because I was willing to bet she wouldn't be thrilled.
The Me-Santa got her a little piggy bank that was a fat cow with a purse that said shopping fund… The Mystery-Santa got her a book for mothers expecting multiples. I don't know why I bothered with two gifts... it was very obvious I got it for her. She did not share her new book with the rest of the family, my father did, but she just grabbed it from him and hid it. I had no idea why she was so particular angered. Could it be the fact I got her husband a bag full of condoms with ice-pick-sized holes in them? Or was it the book for expecting mothers? It could've been the fact that I got my mom in on the action. Despite all of our constant teasing... not one family member noticed the fact Melissa wasn't drinking alcohol.
The next morning I found out why Sister was so annoyed... because we were right. On Christmas morning, my sister and brother-in-law announced that family planning does not work and they were with child.
I was in shock. Not because my sister was pregnant, but because I'm pretty sure I got her pregnant. I told her she was pregnant. I told my mom she was pregnant. I patted her belly... telling her body she was pregnant. I put the fact she was pregnant out into nature.
The Secret - Ask. Believe. Receive. I didn’t know it was possible for me to get my sister pregnant, but I guess it is.
In a matter of 2 months, I will have a nephew named Lewy… and in 6 months I will have a possible another nephew or a niece. I'm pretty excited about being an aunt. I've already begun playing GaGa for these little peanuts in the womb... gotta lead them in the right direction, you know.
Now I'm just wondering what I should ask for next.... Hey Michelle... Do you and Adam want children yet?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
I Have Straight Teeth... But only sometimes.
When I was in the 4th grade, I got braces. At the time, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I got these little cases of wax when they started rubbing the inside of my cheeks. It was a very ignorant time for me. About 4 months after getting the braces, I soon realized they WERE NOT all they were cracked up to be.
I had those braces for additional 5 years.
I did not get my braces removed until the summer before my sophomore year. HOWEVER, upon getting rid of the very things that made my teeth perfectly straight, I got a top retainer and a metal wire placed behind my bottom teeth. But guess what. I lost the retainer and the wire's cement broke off one of my teeth the very next day I got it... I never got it fixed.
The result? Luckily my top row of teeth remained straight... my bottom row was not so lucky, but still it was only one tooth that moved slightly. When I switched dentist, the bottom wire was removed and I was given yet another retainer... I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT ONE.
The loss of my bottom retainer lead to a nasty snaggle by the time I was in college. I would name it... take impressions of it in my gun. I made jokes about it, but secretly was pissed off about the fact I had worn braces for over 5 years and had NOTHING to show for it.
I went back to the dentist because I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got invisalign. I straightened my teeth in about 3 months... then I lost the last retainer in the invisalign set and my teeth went crooked YET again. THat time, it got worse.
For the last 2 years, I have had crooked bottom teeth. But ladies and gentlelads, I have great news. My parents found the last retainer in the invisalign set when we moved to our new home. It took a painful week and I had the beautifully straight teeth I once treasured.
There is a slight catch.... Sometimes I got like a day or two without wearing it and I immediately get crooked teeth again. As I type this I'm rubbing my tongue against the back of my front bottom teeth.. crooked. I seriously need to get my shit together.
Had I written this two days ago, I'd have straight teeth.
I had those braces for additional 5 years.
I did not get my braces removed until the summer before my sophomore year. HOWEVER, upon getting rid of the very things that made my teeth perfectly straight, I got a top retainer and a metal wire placed behind my bottom teeth. But guess what. I lost the retainer and the wire's cement broke off one of my teeth the very next day I got it... I never got it fixed.
The result? Luckily my top row of teeth remained straight... my bottom row was not so lucky, but still it was only one tooth that moved slightly. When I switched dentist, the bottom wire was removed and I was given yet another retainer... I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT ONE.
The loss of my bottom retainer lead to a nasty snaggle by the time I was in college. I would name it... take impressions of it in my gun. I made jokes about it, but secretly was pissed off about the fact I had worn braces for over 5 years and had NOTHING to show for it.
I went back to the dentist because I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got invisalign. I straightened my teeth in about 3 months... then I lost the last retainer in the invisalign set and my teeth went crooked YET again. THat time, it got worse.
For the last 2 years, I have had crooked bottom teeth. But ladies and gentlelads, I have great news. My parents found the last retainer in the invisalign set when we moved to our new home. It took a painful week and I had the beautifully straight teeth I once treasured.
There is a slight catch.... Sometimes I got like a day or two without wearing it and I immediately get crooked teeth again. As I type this I'm rubbing my tongue against the back of my front bottom teeth.. crooked. I seriously need to get my shit together.
Had I written this two days ago, I'd have straight teeth.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Battle Royale
I have a problem. It involves over-indulging while on vacation. I see food, I eat food. I see liquor, I drink liquor. On any typical day, I try to remain pretty healthy. The past month excluded. Due to my love of food and the drink (the love being owed to my DNA), I am the proud new owner of 8 additional pounds.
This poses a problem because I am going to Elay in very soon…. Perhaps the most self-centered/superficial town in the U.S. of A. To fix the problem, I knew it required fast action. On the ride home from Taos, I informed my sister I had to go back on the diet that helped me lose weight the first time. At first I wanted to lose 5 lbs. in two weeks but after getting off the scale, I think I’m going to shoot for 8. Technical, I only have 8 days so I must attempt to lose one pound a day. (Please no one worry, I watch the Biggest Loser all the time, I am a pro…. Plus I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night #joke.)
The spin to this story, is that my brother-in-law made a remark that he wanted to do it with me. And so being the competitive person I am, I decided to challenge him to a battle. Whoever loses the most weight in two weeks, wins $100. He is going down.
Yesterday I consumed around 1200 calories, while burning around 700. Today… I didn’t fair so well. I dreamed of sweets all day. Instead of succumbing to my dream of brownies and ice cream, I instead chose to have an antioxidant-filled bottle of wine. It was delicious. However, I think it set me back a day.
Despite my lapse in judgment, I know I will still beat my brother-in-law. I am going to get back on track and kick his ass. I mean shit… he had grilled cheese and tomato basil last night… I win.
Daniel, get ready to go DOWN. I am the queen of weight loss when I actually try.
This poses a problem because I am going to Elay in very soon…. Perhaps the most self-centered/superficial town in the U.S. of A. To fix the problem, I knew it required fast action. On the ride home from Taos, I informed my sister I had to go back on the diet that helped me lose weight the first time. At first I wanted to lose 5 lbs. in two weeks but after getting off the scale, I think I’m going to shoot for 8. Technical, I only have 8 days so I must attempt to lose one pound a day. (Please no one worry, I watch the Biggest Loser all the time, I am a pro…. Plus I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night #joke.)
The spin to this story, is that my brother-in-law made a remark that he wanted to do it with me. And so being the competitive person I am, I decided to challenge him to a battle. Whoever loses the most weight in two weeks, wins $100. He is going down.
Yesterday I consumed around 1200 calories, while burning around 700. Today… I didn’t fair so well. I dreamed of sweets all day. Instead of succumbing to my dream of brownies and ice cream, I instead chose to have an antioxidant-filled bottle of wine. It was delicious. However, I think it set me back a day.
Despite my lapse in judgment, I know I will still beat my brother-in-law. I am going to get back on track and kick his ass. I mean shit… he had grilled cheese and tomato basil last night… I win.
Daniel, get ready to go DOWN. I am the queen of weight loss when I actually try.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Shit Fingers
My friend Linda and I are going to team up and write a book. It will consist of embarrassing stories from the both of us... and pretty much everyone we know - whether you gave us permission to write about it or not.
Why we decided to attempt this endeavor? God only knows. For years in college, we always believed... from the bottom of our hearts... that we needed to be the subject of a reality tv show... because no one ever gave us that opportunity, we must take this time to share our lives with the rest of the world. They deserve it, it will be a great read.
I think we could compare it with Chelsea Handler's "Horizontal Life," Tucker Max's "I hope they serve beer in hell," and "Shit my dad says."
The tagline of our book??? "The stories you love to hear, but hate to tell." And scene.
We will be accepting submissions... just email me at madeline.meibergen@ou.edu
Potential excerpt from the book:
One time I was on the phone with this girl... we will call her Debbie. Debbie had just visited the dentist. While at the dentist, the doctor expressed to his hyigenist that he was concerned about the damage to her enamel. He told the hygienist that he believed she was using to much head. Upon this statement, Debbie immediately became concerned. Rather shocked, she informed the dentist that she didn't do that enough for it to matter. The dentist, confused responded, "You don't brush your teeth?"
You see, Debbie thought he was referring to the act of giving head... not the head on her toothbrush being too hard. Fail. I'm sure that dentist and hygienist will have something to talk about for years to come.
P.S. For those of you who noted the title of this blog... well you will just have to read the last chapter of the book.
Why we decided to attempt this endeavor? God only knows. For years in college, we always believed... from the bottom of our hearts... that we needed to be the subject of a reality tv show... because no one ever gave us that opportunity, we must take this time to share our lives with the rest of the world. They deserve it, it will be a great read.
I think we could compare it with Chelsea Handler's "Horizontal Life," Tucker Max's "I hope they serve beer in hell," and "Shit my dad says."
The tagline of our book??? "The stories you love to hear, but hate to tell." And scene.
We will be accepting submissions... just email me at madeline.meibergen@ou.edu
Potential excerpt from the book:
One time I was on the phone with this girl... we will call her Debbie. Debbie had just visited the dentist. While at the dentist, the doctor expressed to his hyigenist that he was concerned about the damage to her enamel. He told the hygienist that he believed she was using to much head. Upon this statement, Debbie immediately became concerned. Rather shocked, she informed the dentist that she didn't do that enough for it to matter. The dentist, confused responded, "You don't brush your teeth?"
You see, Debbie thought he was referring to the act of giving head... not the head on her toothbrush being too hard. Fail. I'm sure that dentist and hygienist will have something to talk about for years to come.
P.S. For those of you who noted the title of this blog... well you will just have to read the last chapter of the book.
Chidren for Sale
This morning I woke up, let my dog use the restroom, feed her, then I take to the kitchen to feed myself. On this particular morning I decided to watch Ellen Degeneres. Personally, my favorite talk show currently on tv… tied with Chelsea Lately, of course. During a commercial break, a particular commercial caught my attention.
CASHKIDS.COM The just of the commercial is these children are bragging talking about all the cool things their parents just bought them. And then they add the fact the only reason they got that stuff is because there parents went to cashkids.com. Did the parents sell a sibling? Are they renting their children out as slave labor?
May I suggest you rename your site? Perhaps too mykidisaspoiledshitIneedmoremoney.com???? It has a nice ring to it. Just anything that doesn’t make it sound like an ebay site for exploiting children. Thanks.
CASHKIDS.COM The just of the commercial is these children are bragging talking about all the cool things their parents just bought them. And then they add the fact the only reason they got that stuff is because there parents went to cashkids.com. Did the parents sell a sibling? Are they renting their children out as slave labor?
May I suggest you rename your site? Perhaps too mykidisaspoiledshitIneedmoremoney.com???? It has a nice ring to it. Just anything that doesn’t make it sound like an ebay site for exploiting children. Thanks.
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