what's new pussy cat

Who is this, you wonder. Above is a photo of my brother/about-to-be-ex-roommate dancing with his lady friend Katy. While the stories I have surrounding this duo are plentiful - the most recent event involved following the brother home in a car at a snails pace during one of his massive pout sessions on July 5th at approx 1 in the morning while he "walked home" in swim trunks and nothing more from our 4th of July pool party - I will save you the tic tocs with unnecessary details about the PDA-consumed couple. The reason this picture caught my eye and ended up on my blog today is because it was taken at a baseball game last Friday night that I attended AND in the far right corner of the photo you'll notice - it's me! I am in the candid shot along with the twin sister chattin' up a storm with an old high school friend. Correction: I chatted while the twin nervously stared into space signaling me to shut up so we could get the heck out of dodge. Curiousity wants to know: how many photographs exist that include me as the "strange bystander" in the background. My guess is millions. Yes millions.

Time to get physical. Lets?

I was once all about routine when it comes to exercise. I was victim to a standard set by yours truly, burning cals and pumping iron religously due to a wicked regimne that was borderline manic. Circumstances and priorities have changed and I no longer maintain the nazi mentality in which skipping a daily workout is equivalent to failure. Nowadays I am happy when I make it to the gym 3-4 times per week compared to my 2-a-days several years ago and favor the mental benefits reaped over the physical. Morning, noon or night I try to squeeze in 30 minutes of something every single day and if I succeed, fantastic! If not I do not ridicule myself like I once did. I commend myself for ignoring the growls of my belly like a fat wolf in heat in exchange for a 45 minute stint at the gym during my lunch hour. It's something I can say "hey, good for you" about. Lunch hour workouts don't happen every day - once a week is more practical. In fact, this afternoon at the gym I was greeted by a friendly gal behind the counter in the lobby, a gal I don't recall meeting ever in my life, who threw me a smirk while whispering "Now I haven't seen YOU in awhile!" Due to my natural yet strange desire to overload perfect strangers on the 411, I blurt in an untimely defense "WELLLLL that's because I usually come in the evening but sometimes I opt to run outsisde if the weather's behaving - oh and I've also been running Pinnacle so that could add to the absense" and somehow in my mind I felt satisfied having displayed such an outburst. Who are you my life coach? Is she keeping tabs back there behind the counter? This the gym so ill-equipped they maintain your membership details in a three ring notepad and renew monthly memberships by replacing the colored dot on the lamented membership card with a new dot different color. This is also the one and only gym within a 50 mile radius that doesn't accept debit but kindly accepts your check. Does anyone own a checkbook?

I am going somewhere with this.

I managed to make it to the gym today during lunch and I will aim for tomorrow but there are obstacles. Time constraints is always a big issue and I don't enjoy feeling rushed through my workout. My mentality - while no longer naxi yet still vigorous when it comes to workouts - requires a full hour of activity or I feel I have slacked. But the real problem is there's something about that sense of accomplishment mixed with disgust that gets to me on my way back to work post exercise. Accomplishment for the effort, disgust because I am left feeling like someone dipped me in toilet water and then draped me in clean clothes. Time doesn't allow for a shower so basically I bathe myself quickly by means of a towel and soap in front of the bathroom sink. Some lunch time workouts require a bit more TLC than others. Unfresh best describes the sentiment. My hair is reminiscent of a wet dog. Even though I've "washed" my body is still sweating profusely through my cotton dress leaving a distinct circle of sweat on my back for the world to see and, unbeknownst to me, possibly smell. On the way back to work the AC in my car is working so hard I am barely pushing 30 mph as I attempt to dry my hair in front of the vents. Folks that's what I call determination.

Let's talk about another word often associated with working out. It's a word called dedication. You either have it in your bones or you don't. For me dedication is consistency. It's putting your heart over the bar and taking a leap without room for discussion. I love mid day workouts because (a) the opportunity it allows for later in the day when I would normally workout and (b) there is no monkey on my back following me around from mahcine to machine suggesting we combine efforts and alternate sets. I do miss the people watching [judging] however. Today, 2 minutes into my extreme Gaunlet routine my eyes focused on what I had been staring at for a painful 120 seconds. What is this I see?

WHAT THE?




A better look, shall we?



EVEN THE SHOES?




















I love how he opted for the "special stationary" bicycle not just your average run of the mill stationary. Oh no sir - this man is in training! I know what you are thinking. Trust me I do. I thought the same thing upon my initial judgment: he rode up to the gym on his fancy bicycle and likely a helmet for safety percautions. He made a pit stop at the gym to cool down on the stationary, put in an extra 5 on the bike before pedalin' it back to the house on the real deal. I checked you suckers: there was NO bike outside. Maybe he hid it? Why would he do that? He was so dang intimidating my hand was shaking as I nonchalantly snapped a pic kudos to the iPhone. What a stud. You know, I bet he's training for a triathalon. This guy is Mr. Determination. It's good to have guys like him around to provide us with ambition. He is not much different from Superman in my book.

For legal purposes let it be known I intended to place one of those black boxes over the biker's face for his protection but then laughed to myself at the notion. Yeah right. Who wouldn't want to be this guy?

Later aligators!
~ J

REVELATIONS

I recently came out of the closet, to myself and friends, that I am a Lionel Ritchie fan. Laugh if you must. I would have scoffed at the suggesion a week ago but after a recent listen to the outstanding compact disk titled "Truly: The Love Songs" it was discovered that I transpose into that sappy, wacky girl I usually mock. Who knew I had it in me! Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady = magic. I wonder if there is a Spanish version "Uno, Dos, Tres Tiempo Senora." Lionel had the ladies melting with his words and criminal good looks.

I like to think Lionel is channeling an inviting "come hither" with his devilish charm and overpowering sex appeal. You know what else? I bet he got there on his own without direction from the photographer on set that day. Lionel, you nailed it buddy.



















One night while in bed (prior to falling asleep pervs) Matt and I chatted up a storm discussing our shared fondness for Lionel. We considered the classic "Say You Say Me" for our wedding song, since we are nagged regularly about the necessity of finding "our song", but something really weird happens mid-song with that tune. Lionel takes us on an adventure from heart felt melody turned 80's boombox jam beginning with "So you think you know the answers - oh no". What does one do on the dance floor during this completely unfitting diddy? I envision a floor full of bewildered folks looking around the room for suggestions. Maybe this is the ideal time to throw the bouquet. Warning: do it quickly because within minutes Lionel will take us back down for one more round of chorus.

For two ugly people John and Kate have 8 good looking kiddos. Science - it's a funny thing.

I just saw a photo of the Jonas Brothers in US Weekly and it is the first photo I have seen of the young lads. I have not been living under a rock, I just don't care. No offense teeny boopers but they truly are not good looking dudes. In fact, one looks like he's a 45 year old Art History teacher from my old high school. America what is wrong with you?

I am starting to believe the monstrous "bump" on my forehead is permanent. This thing has been an annoyance in my life for a week. I've had to implement bandaids and hats into my daily wardrobe. Matt calls it my horn and we're patiently waiting to see if another grows adjacent to my current malady. If I were to make a severe turn without warning I could easily poke someone's eye out. It hurts like the dickens. Should it scare me that webmd resulted with zero potential explanations?

Phone sex. That's what it's all about! Seriously, what is it all about? A friend of mine revealed to me last night that she regularly partakes in such heinous acts with her college "F" buddy. Well that's just great. I couldn't wash the image of her lying on the bed blackberry in one hand - other hand - sick. Maybe I am being closed minded but how does one get into such a thing? I am all about experimenting, and I like to think I am a pretty sexual girl, but this no way jose. I'm hanging up the phone. I am the kind of girl that fakes it hoping to god no one can hear me "yeah, yeah that feels great where is your hand" while catching a late night rerun of a Real World Road Rules The Duel 2 episode. I'm not a talker. I hate it when asked "talk dirty to me baby" because I don't know what to say that won't sound like something straight out of a 1978 porn flick. Can't we just enjoy the moment without allowing a series of weird questions to ruin the fun? In reality with the phone sex it's all about creative dialogue. I simply am not that descriptive. Plus, I hate to say the word vagina and I detest it's sister name so how do we beat around that bush - no pun intended. I mean, on the surface the concept is appealing and all but getting down to the nitty gritty - no thank you. The kicker: my friend lives with her parents at present time. "DAAAD, I'M ON THE PHONE!"

Got some time on your hands? During my down time I enjoy shooting the breeze with automated customer service reps. It's like chating with a real person but don't be fooled. As paypal's "Sarah" indicates "Even though I’d like to be a real person, I’m not." Astonishing! The following is an exerpt of my web communication with Sarah this morning [cut and pasted straight from the paypal website]:

Sarah - PayPal :
Hello, I’m Sarah and I’m here to answer your questions about PayPal. Even though I’d like to be a real person, I’m not. I’m programmed to answer your questions. How can I help you?
You :
how are you?
Sarah - PayPal :
I'm doing OK. You?
You :
Not great
Sarah - PayPal :
I'm sorry. I hope you feel better.How can I help you?
You :
I need to know what the weather is going to be like around 5 pm this evening. Have a big outing planned.
Sarah - PayPal :
Right. Please let me know if you have any other questions.
You :
Weather?
Sarah - PayPal :
From my office I can see a bit of blue sky with a few clouds. How can I help you?
You: great! where are you located?
Sarah - Paypal: I have a cozy little server right here at Paypal.

Just when I thought Sarah would disappoint she came through like a chimp - or is that a champ? I wanted to continue the playful banter, seeing all sorts of avenues to explore here, but envisioned some jackass secret paypal officer knocking on my door throwing a transcript of my chat with Sarah in my face, reading me my rights having committed some sort of cyber law, to be televised at my humiliating expense on Dateline later.

Last night after Bunko - eh hem - let me reiterate late last night after Bunko I wrote a country song - in my head - and it was beautiful. I can't remember it today. It was one of those painful, hard to listen to songs that you play over and over again when dabbling with masochistic behavior following a break-up or pity party of one. There were lyrics and a melody. For the record, I am not a country music fan which makes the song that more phenomenal. Speaking of that last word, I knew a guy that pronounced "ph" words with the p sound. I often wondered why he didn't pick a synonym to "penomenal" because it just sounded retarted. It was one of his favorite words.

I have no plans this weekend and I'm lovin' it. Gonna miss puppethead.

xoxo -
J

Why are my eyes always bigger than my stomach? I just devoured a Schlotzskys small turkey original sandwhich, and by small I mean fit for a king, in less than 5 minutes like a rabid beast. Since we're talking about it, the thing wasn’t even tasty going down. In fact, once fullness ensued, I tried to talk myself out of additional bites but somewhere embedded in my subconscious a voice lingers telling me not to let food go to waste (thanks John and Sue.) I find myself forcing a swallow or two, not without fight by my gag reflex, to get the half chewed up meat and bread down the esophagus to the waiting room, aka the belly, where it’ll inevitably meet it’s doom causing me turmoil later back at work. When will I learn? That’s right, never. I was brainwashed to clean my plate for 18 years. It’s a wonder how I remain in decent shape. Dang, I'm comatose. In that case…

WHIPLASH!

Because it never gets old....



Look at the smirk on that primate’s face. “Crowds”, he says. “Listen dawg, I’ve gots to be out of here by 3 pm, no later, to make my flight to LAX. Sam Ronson is dj’ing the T mobile event tonight and I've got VIP tickets to Hyde. Lets give them one more lap, I throw the hat, and we're out.”


I like how Whip's approach is non-chalant, barely holding on to the rope as if he's done this a time or two before. Are they in a gymnasium?

I've been pensive this week - there is a lot weighing on this girl. Living amongst a fog that I can't seem to escape. I need laughter. Maybe John Lennon had it right all these years and all you really need is love. On the other hand, as Alice in Chains would declare with no room for disagreement, "somethings gotta turn out right"...

'tis the weekend to be jolly, by golly...I need a remedy!

~ J

THE CROSSROAD

open your eyes
let you see me

we’ve come full circle
what will be will be

I know it’s not much
but enough for now

fear terrifying tomorrow
we’ll make it somehow

your pain hurts my heart
gotta be true to your soul

let's make a new start
help me make you whole

the darkest of times
will never push me away

we’ll sleep on this tonight
pray for a better day

faith vital to us now
manifestation destroys will

darling give it awhile
and allow time to heal

I admire you my love
keep an open mind

let the plan unfold
an opportunity you'll find

search deep for strength
to get past this hour

embrace the wind of change
it’s within your power

with all my strength
try to release your burden

you push me away
and now we're both left hurtin'

i want to fix your ache
i wish I could make this right

it's time to let your guard down
don't pick another fight

where we'll be tomorrow
only time can tell

the bond in love between us
i know will never fail

so show me that smile
let me see gleam in your eye

can I make you happy
I will never cease to try

In memory...

Matthew oh Matthew. So much to miss. Where do I start?

A tear fills my eye when I think I will never get to witness another one of your classic mad cleaning frenzies. Man that was fun. Remember that night you ended up crying in a fetal position? Dang I wish I had captured that on kodak. I know Ellie and Nikki will never forget that night by the pool where you invited me on one of your guilt trips in front of everyone. I yearn for more. Nikki really should have us all back for another trip soon. With a fondness I will always remember that night four people drove around town inebriated while two others walked the streets looking for a dog you purposely hid in the suitcase. We should have thanked you for the exercise. I know all the straight men who attended Kati and Ashley's Christmas rendezvous will never be able to numb themselves enough to wash that image of you breaking it down to Britany Spears' Womanizer. I would have never guessed you could do the splits. It breaks my heart that Hessica will not know what to do with herself when she finds herself getting ready to hit Midtown at 1 am without you there to make her over like a barbie doll. Shucks. I think it's a safe bet to suggest she's going to miss the derrogatory comments and trash talk more, though. Here's a funny one: remember when you got mad at Matt for asking you not to walk out of the theatre until the movie was over? Matt's a little irrational at times. How dare he expect you to be polite.

I'll miss you kiddo and that high pictched but oddly British sounding pitch.

WATCH OUT 'BAMA!

It's the eye of the tiger it's the cream of the fight...

The high price of beauty my friends. The fight is tough on the 'ole pocketbook and unforgiving to time. I had an extraordinarily hectic morning plucking, shaving, exfoliating, snipping (don't worry with details). The sky gave promise to a nice spring-like day inspiring me to allot an extra 20 minutes to the pain-in-the-ass process of sunless self tanning. Somewhere shortly after my 28th birthday I became an obsessive anti-sun freak consquently giving up on tanning the old fashioned way: the tanning bed. Under these circumstances I am left with two options: succomb to pastiness for life or acquanit myself with the sunless tanning way of living. After looking at pictures of yours truly taken last weekend in the overcast city of Dallas I quickly opted for #2. Applying sunless tanner, which is an art I have hardly perfected, is a chore. I came close to throwing in the towel following my recent jounrey for color resulting with arms and legs of an oompa loompa and my own bofriend delicately suggesting I "put on pants" when he noticed my orange ankles as I walked outside one Sunday afternoon in a mini dress and sandals. Rejected by my own boyfriend?

I kept myself in check this morning during the expedition for glow, reminding myself more is less - or in the case of sunless tanner is more essential? I am so bad when it comes to necessary details. I continued my daily morning ritual as my nude bod marinated in the Sublime deep tan lotion feeling a little silly but a glimpse in the mirror proved the stuff was kicking in like Flynn. I deliberately skipped out on deodorant this morning because, as trial and error has shown, I didn't wanna end up with what would look like filthy underarms due to a bad concoction of Sublime and invisble solid. Trust this girl, it happens. Around 11:30 this morning my body bluntly reminded me with a boldness of my lack of anti perspirant. Luckily for those with whom I work I rememebred to pack a stick of shower clean Degree this morning. The bottle states, without room for disagreement, Invisble Solid. By invisible they must mean as you apply the product transforming to detectable the second you drape your bod with clothing. Every morning I end up with white smudgy shit on my top and every morning I find myself fighting time trying to remove the white smudgy shit from my top before heading out the door.

Let's recap. Sun, bad. Beauty games are a bitch. Lotsa money spent. All that jazz. So during lunch I spent a guilt inducing, large sum of cash on anti-aging lotion. This was not an impulse buy - premeditated. I am not too humble to admit that one of my worst fears in life is aging - not in number rather the physical sign of making the transition from young to middle aged. Some call it vanity, but I think it's our need to look good to feel good. I am trying to adopt the "grow old gracefully" mantra but while that's trying to soak in I'm taking all measures available, sans going under the knife, to prevent that I've had a tough life look I tragically see on aged faces. I am not one of those girls that will declare I will never have surgery because I don't know what my 40's and 50's will bring to my face, but I am doing all I can now to get that 23 year old face back. I completely took my skin for granted during the years of my youth. I did. It wasn't until my late 20's before washing my face at night became a religious regimine. I can remember sunbathing and making every attempt possible to get my face as dark as dirt. On one hot summer day when I was 17 I anxiously prepared for a date by sunbathing all day while struggling with a remedy to doctor a gigantic pimple that was growing with urgency on my right cheek. I drenched my bod in baby oil and hopped on a towel on the back deck of my house directly under the sun while a stridex pad draped my cheek attempting to medicate my face while toasting my naked skin for 4 hours. No exaggeration: the result was shockingly similar to a 4 degree burn victim. I remember the look of terror on my father's face when I walked insdie. I recall there was even talk of a hospital visit. I was reprimanded and told I was going to have serious problems with scarring "for life". That was a little outlandish dad but yeah, I would have preferred the zit to looking like freddie crougar on my date that evening. I honestly didn't know how to explain the situation when asked about it and no one in their right mind could get away with trying the I'll pretend I don't notice stunt.

[REWIND 17 HOURS]

I struggle to write as my fingers are completely numb from the cold. It's as if I am typing with someone elses' deceased fingers. It's sick, I agree.

Tonight after happy hour I was cooking a batch of french fries in the conventional oven when out of nowhere my great friend Ellie B's voice popped into my head. Inspired by this revelation I decided to write a bit about what I love about some of the dearest people in my life. Cheesy, sure. I've been in a fantastic mood this week and allow me to share some sunshine with you. Oh goodness that made me nauseous.

Why do I love Ellie? I love that high pitched country girl voice she gets when she's had more than 2 beers. It's the "did ya get ya hair did" voice. She is always the life of the party the few times we get to hang out anymore. If you are ever in need of the most random item no matter where you are, Ellie has it in her purse. This girl ain't shy and she is always willing to help without complaint! Ellie low rides like no other.

Nikki is the nurturer. Nik is a cheerful gal. She bestows all sorts of good qualities but she won't hesitate to tell you what she is thinking no matter how potentially painful. I like to think Nik's real daddy is African American because of Nikki's mmmhmmm's and her regular use of mmm mmm mmm as if in immense disbelief. She has a habit of trying to finish sentences with regulatiry almost turing it into a game. It's like she is trying to guess what I am going to say next. Nik has mad dance skillz and makes a mean tequila shot. I can't wait until she moves back to town. [wink]

Good 'ole Jessica. What's not to love? Her constant switch from negative to positive in her painfully witty way? Jess' laugh resembles that of Kitty on the 70's show. Jess has a tendency to make out with randoms. Oh geez, not true. Not usually true. Jess is very giving oftentimes putting others before herself. Jessica gets sappy on the wine.

You never know what you're gonna get with Stacie. Being in her presence is like walking on a fine peice of ice. When she's had a little too much to drink she transforms into the one eye texter. I also love that she has no qualms about implemtning crutches and arm slings into her wardrobe on a bi-monthly basis. Stacie has a contagious laugh. Stacie has a tendency to make out with randoms. Oh geez. Relax.

Randall R. is as genuine as all get out. RR has a great laugh and is gifted with charisma. He has a way with words and employs a pouty "woe is me" every now and then that leaves me in stitches. Randall will keep you on your toes. I am still a little upset about that time he pissed my couch but let's let bygones be bygones shall we? That time Randall and I won the dance challenge back in '07 for our choreographed "midnight justice" routine is one of the best moments of my life. I really wish Randall had consulted with his physician before breaking it down Tabitha style. One question Randall: what in the world did you ever do with my favorite pair of rock-n-republic jeans?

Matt C. I love his doggy style but more than that I love it that he's finally admitted to being a lesbian. My new nickname for Matt is the redcard bandit being the only man - well human being - I have seen get kicked out of an entire season in a recreational adult soccer league. He means well. Except for that time he followed that guy to the Clinton library....you're my favorite.

Jacob Z. Two hours ago I might have skipped over this dude but I've since forgiven the 30 year old boy for trusting his instinct that sunflower seed shells should be thrown down the side of the sink that doesn't drain. I'll admit it bothered me when my napkin failed to retain all the saliva soaked seeds that ended up on my bare hand, but I managed to keep my cool. Okay for a split second I recall maybe shouting "f'ing disgusting" and "how dumb can you be and how are you a highly educated accountant" but I realize in retrospect it was all due to shock. Jacob, like every other member of my family, is witty and kind even though he doesn't have a neat freak bone in his body. I still wonder how he convinced his girlfriend to EVER set foot in that bedroom of his. Jake has a very kind heart and spent a lot of money at my birthday dinner at my fav steakhouse and I try to remember moments such as my birthday when I'm taking out the trash for the third time in a week. Oh, roommates. We love to hate them. Reverse it. No scratch it.

I'm sweating bullets now as a result of Friday fever. I'm out like the count.

HOWDY do! End of the week synopsis on daily wisdom...

Wednesday: Remember to employ optimism when things look grim! My brother is a good happy guy, I'll give him that, but boy oh boy he can be negative when the only thing left to hang on to is optimisim. This morning he was giving one of his "woe is me" sagas [Randall says it best] and I turned to the positive side of things which, in effect, caused him to say "you know, you're right". Of course I am dirty dog! I also realized that when I am alone I stay up way too late. If I were single I'd be horribly sleep deprived but I'd probably be a lot thinner. In Matt's absence I realize he and I really enjoy to eat together. A lot.

Thursday: One of my goals this year is to practice patience. It's so much easier to cave into a hasty demeanor. It takes tremendous will from me to quiet my mind in such predicaments. I am getting better at being a little more enduring and I am proud of myself. Tonight as 11 ladies and one gent rolled dice I managed to insert a little patience into the challenge. Those of you who've never played - especially with my feisty group - it's a nerve wracking game of 6's and it's easy to switch to ornery. Despite one minor breakdown following a snide suggestion that I cheated on a roll (bitch), I was a good girl this evening. I stuck around and chatted for a couple of hours with 2 of my favorite girl friends and found myself crawling into bed, after high tailin' it into my house and stripping off every piece of clothing, at 12:45. YIKES. That is late for this girl. It was worth it in the end because I thoroughly enjoyed the stimulating coversation. Not to change the subject but that Michelle Abu Hamileiha [no idea how to spell] can shake her thang, ya'll. It's rather intimidating - and a little awkward! She broke it down for us dirty style. I've never seen a white girl move like that!

Friday is here! It's Superbowl weekend and that means absolutely nothing to me. I'm excited about Matthew coming home and squeezing him until he winces. In other news, I have the Jack Russell fever and the only prescription is inviting a Jack Russell Terrier to come home with me. While chronically bored I googled some JR pics and came across this terrifying headline that broke my heart:

South Dakota Mountain Lion Gets Jack Russell

What a dick.

I have a handheld humidifer glued to my face this afternoon (a Walgreens steal at nine dollars and ninety nine cents). It's soothing! I am ready to get this weekend started so let's do it.

Ja-ne!

Ketchup Time

No no, not the condiment. I need to catch up on my blog, rather. The title of this blog is a bad attempt at trying to incorporate humor as an antedote to boredom. A night at home alone makes a girl a little stir crazy - thus the birth of ketchup. So, I promised to document my magic and it's never late than better. Strike that. Reverse it. Made you think!

I am a dork at heart. It is what it is.

Let me preface this blog by saying it's late. As stated above, I've spent the night alone and I write this after watching Brokeback Mountain for the third time yet the first time in three years and outside of a theatre. I concur with my original take on the movie: it is phenomenal. For those of you closed minded folk who opt not to watch solely based on the small element of homosexuality you are missing out. It is truly an affecting movie. You will be satisfied having devoted 2 hours of your personal time on the movie, not that I'd expect anyone outside of the film and television industry to devote non-personal time to the flick. The drama is painfully enlightening. You have to look beyond the fact that two sexy boys are fondling one another. I will admit at times during the movie I fantasize I am Ledger's character, Ennis. How fortunate for him to get to simulate sex acts with Jake Gyllenhall. [pause for 1 minute]

Despite that gush of warm blood that just circulated through my body it is Co-old outside. The tips of my fingers and toes are white and remain white sometimes hours after I have become victimized by my couch. Should I be worried? Note to self: webmd this later.

Back to it, shall we? Below are events, moments that illuminated my day for the past few:

Friday the 23rd: Everyone has moments of weakness. Yes everyone including those I hold in high regard. On a lighter note, a fun lesson of the night was learning that sometimes when things don't go according to plan, yet somehow everything falls in it's right place (props to Radiohead), things really are sometimes meant to be. I also learned that Dancing Queen is only a fun song to sing in the privacy of your own car or home not in front of a karaoke crowd. I discovered the vocals "you can dance" should only be sung by a musical professional. While the twin and I performed in front of a crowd of 23 I am pretty sure I could hear little Jerry howling from his grave. RIP little mister.

Saturday: The beauty of a lazy day. I am a creature of go and get done. I feel like if I am not doing someting, at all times, I am not living life to its fullest. I spent the day amongst two of my favorite people and could not have wished for a better day. We did very little of anything in particular. Also, the lead actor in Slumdog Millionaire tests my fascination with Jake G.

Sunday: Respect warm weather. Today the cold was literally painful. A little triva: at the end of the movie Back to the Future I, Doc converts this into fuel? Give up. Trash. Anyone thinking what I'm thinking? Genius! We could solve two of our country's biggest crisis' with one easy solution. Now who's got the DeLorean?

Monday: Not to take any moment for granted. I've lost time inadvertently by selfishly fretting, analyzing, worrying, being stubborn. Also realized that while I enjoy poking fun at the snuggie, those bundles of warmth really are practical. I was that frustrated girl depicted in the infomercial. You know the one, struggling with her blanket while trying to answer the phone.

Tuesday: Learned to appreciate the alone time. Here I am.

For the record it's currently 27 degrees yet it feels like 2. Goodnight readers.






I MISS HIM!

69 days of magic

Employing a little change, challenge if you will, to life to add a spark to my existence and avoid succombing to the monotonous routine of every day activity. Granted, nothing about my life is mundane, but I don't want a day to go by in vain no matter how fantastic or insanely humdrum. I know what you're thinking, the dark days of January have really hit hard this year. The reality of it is I am craving enlightenment. Having said that, I am on a mission to document the magic, a significant event, at the close of each day every day beginning now through April 1. Why April 1? April embarks the beginning of spring, renewal, and it's my favorite time of year. Another bit of trivia: April 1 is preceisely 69 days from today and we all know 69 is a fascinating number.

This is an almost three month trial. My desire is that when this project wraps on April 1 the end result will be a refreshed outlook on my days and nights with a profound appreciation for life. But of course there will be effortless days when everything seems to come together beautifully and there will certainly be those days where I want nothing more than to go home, crawl in bed and reset. Let the challenge begin.

Day 1: January 22, 2009

The value of faith. I know, I know. When you start to read this, my very first documented magical moment of '09, you will think how sad a more insightful moment failed to present itself to my life in 24 hours but ya dirty dog there is a moral. Besides that, it was a drab kind of day and the task is searching for at least one explicit incident. So here it is. I managed to squeeze in an hour long workout session in 30 minutes which, trust me, was no easy feat. I pushed myself to the extreme, so much that I felt awful during the drive home. Today's 30 minute workout session was more successful than some of my 90 minute jobs with the difference being I was determined. Having really reflected on my behavioral patterns I see how easy it is for me, at times, to become a victim to the slightest bit of a struggle without overcoming the bump in the road. The process of reversing these horrible personal habits is such a challenge for me, stubborn as stubborn can be, a creature of "I can't" so in the end I don't. I can be so tough on myself that if I were my own parent I'd probably want to turn myself into family services for relentless mental anguish. "Put your heart over the bar and your body will follow" and that's exactly what I did. I made the time out of a hectic day and rather than wuss out by doing a half hearted cardio session, my typical "I only have 30 minutes" routine, I gave it my all. Excuses really are ugly. I have no reason not to workout every day (yes every day) with a little faith and determination. Next stop, waking up at 5:30 in the a.m. to workout. Baby steps.

I also ran into an old friend, one I had been reminiscing about earlier in the day, and we made plans to hang out next week. This made me happy.

I find myself closer to becoming the person I know I can be without complicating matters with my thoughts, working on patience and striving towards complete optimism. This is magically significant!

~ J

365 days with photos took 730 days off my life!

So.....

I’ve been trying to load this mother f’ing video I created two weeks ago and it's giving me aneurism. "You can't give yourself an aneurism." Now is not the time for a debate I am clearly stressed enough. You might ask "was it necessary to throw in a mother f'ing?" Sure it was just to convey how frustrated I've been with this video. I would say screw it but by golly after a breakdown and bleeding ulcer I don't want my effort to go in vain. I should be earning a paycheck for this tough creativity. Yes, that doesn't make a whole lot of sense but throw me a bone won't ya? I am not thinking with clarity.

Having said all that you'll watch my 7 minute and some odd second video and and say things like “that was it?” or "well that was a big fat waste of 7 minutes and some odd seconds." Listen. Not only was it difficult to create this movie due to a program that clearly hasn’t been checked for kinks, the uploading has been nothing short of a pain in the ass. The only success I've had getting the video to play as it should is if I burn the 176,381 KB clip from picasa to a DVD-R and play it in my media player. If the mother f'er is played in any other program the pixels [fancy tech talk] get all screwy and the photos look like shit. Regardless, here is my 365 days with photos movie. You'll get the point even if faces look like melting hot lava. It's time for me to move on with my life and bid adieu to this movie once and for all.

Happy 2009! p.s. if you watch the video and are given an option to view standard video or HQ video (more technical lingo you wouldn't understand) opt for the HQ. Ciao Babies!

Exported Videos

a broken heart

Little mister, you were taken away from me too soon. My heart hurts because you took pieces of it with you. Rest in Peace my sweetheart. I will love you forever and ever. Your perfect face is irreplaceable and will be severely missed by all. You were such a joy to my life in the short time we were together. I can't wait to meet you again some day. I love you.

the world i know

More and more I find myself wondering what happened to courtesy in society? Is there no such thing as civil kindness? Nowadays I watch as men and women go out of their way to be rude. This world has become so jaded as a whole it's not difficult to find someone taking out their suppressed anger on complete strangers. It's immorality at its finest. It doesn't bother me so much that chivalry is dead - there are few gentlemen out there randomly offering a doting "after you" while holding the door. What gets under my skin is the lack of general decency. In the words of Depeche Mode, People are People. Our exteriors come in many shapes and colors but our interiors operate the same. The world as we know it today is a selfish one and one filled with anger. I've come to expect indecency yet am surprised by respectful behavior. When someone is inappropriate it instigates negativity. The negativity lingers and is passed on to another eventually. On the flipside, the same is true with kindness. It's infectious. It feels good. There is real value to the cliché "eye for an eye" which is one of the basic laws of life. Inherit it! Look, I am far from godly but I have strong will to change not only my attitude but my actions. So many people fret through life which is a tragedy. There are those without souls and then those that are consumed with so much hate they treat others poorly in an effort to share the pain. We are all human and all have our moments, lord knows I have my share, but I am proactive about becoming not only a better person but a better citizen. Thank you's and you're welcome's are no longer a necessity even when expected. There is practically no such thing as good customer service. No one wants to help without receiving in return. In grocery stores you'll find people cutting, pushing, grabbing. I once was told by a gentleman in a super big hurry and whose front bumper sticker informed me he was a "Christian" that I "looked like a girl that knew something about dick" after I kindly suggested he stop acting like one. Why? This man, sporting a bad case of little man syndrome, jumped out of his car in anger and began shouting obscenities at me for backing out of a parking spot at a safe and regular pace. Not even a shortage of time could come between this nutjob and his insane rant. I was painfully embarrassed but moreover I wondered what was eating at this man so terribly that it didn't bother him a bit to release his rage on a little woman at the grocery store at noon on a Thursday afternoon.

Stepping down from my podium I hear you ask what's new? Not much. In a shellnut, True Blood is one of my weekend highlights, yesterday I finished a book I've been lugging around for 5 months, I scored a 222 on iBowl last week, I am a big fan of the Healthy Choice basil chicken pasta bowl eating at least one per day if not two, I am thrilled with America's choice in our new leader, I have grossly neglected working out my bod, and I'm self-learning the craft of knitting so that Christmas '08 won't be tough on the pocketbook. I added a couple of pictures to the left of my blog. The first photo documents Matthew and I posing as Dolly and Kenny on the 31st last month. Let it be known that I am holding a mic not a flashlight and Matthew is dressed as Kenny Rogers not Taylor Hicks. In the photo directly below D&K you'll find my pesky roommate Jerry Seinfeld posing as a character true to life -The Devil. Funny story, Jerry was recently banned from the dog park due to heinous acts I can't legally blog about. I can report that he and I will be making the rounds throughout the neighborhood this weekend alerting other pets of his offensive sexual behavior. The guy is nuts but he sure plays some mean pinball. Last week for his first (seventh) birthday he asked for a pint of jagermeister and a pack of black and milds. He got a ball, a bone and the too-small-for-his-body devils costume as seen in the photo, 1/2 price at Petsmart's post Halloween sale.

In closing, as John Lennon so delicately put it, if there will be an answer let it be.

~ your friend J

H-A-LL-O-W-EE-N spells...

Ready to get spooked?













If that doesn't make you sweat bullets something is amiss. Tell me you weren't petrified that he lived under your bed when you were a kid. To this day I worry this guy is smiling, plotting, under my bed while I catch some zzzz's pending the perfect moment for attack. This is precisely why my four legged roommate sleeps on the floor next to my bed - let that clown try to strangle him first and give me time to get the heck out of dodge.

Happy eve of All Hallows' Even. I am a big fan of dressing up and here's a secret -finding that prefect costume and wearing it out is even more fun when you have a festive event to attend. I 've gotta admit I felt a little silly sitting around the house, alone, in my Beetlejuice getup last year but this year I plan to stand out at a costume party in character and in style. I struggled this year finding that perfect one, finally settling on something two days ago primarily to alleviate stress. I have purchased a few odds and ends for the big night but I have yet to try on the ensemble in its entirety. Truth be known I am apprehensive about the final product -what if I fail to deliever? What makes my costume interesting and puts me at an even higher risk for failure is it accompanies that of a sidekick, if you will. His costume is less complex than mine and involves a can of silver hairspray and a sports jacket. I have a feeling if he were to wear this costume without the addition of my character people would guess he is Doc Brown from Back to the Future. Here is a hint about my character: I purchased a used size 36D bra (sick, right?) that will drape my naked body tomorrow eve following several washes in hot water - extended cycle. This lady was a tramp at her chicken ranch in Texas back in '82.

This morning while I was getting ready for work in my 52 degree house I noticed a pathetic roll of toilet paper clinging to my toilet paper holder. The things that go through my mind while doing the mundane everyday things - you wouldn't imagine. Regardless, today I wonder how it is possible - seriously how can it be - that in this house we go through a 6 pack of toilet paper in one week. That's practically 3 rolls a week per person, give or take, depending on the kind of week our respective bladders and colons are having. Maybe I am oblivious to the average individual's daily usage of TP but this seems high. Maybe because it's tragically cold in my house my four legged roommate designed a toilet paper scarf or jacket. I know it sounds far fetched but would you believe that up until yesterday my landlord informed me that we would have to suffer through the winter minus heat because she cannot afford to have the $4,000 heating unit replaced? This morning when I walked out of my house and took my first breath I could see it in the exhale yet it was warmer outside than it was in my living room.

Paper towels. Another item that is used in abundance in my home. This significantly adds to my homemade coat theory.

things that scare me:

* Governor Palin serving as first person in the presidential line of succession
* my old, haunted house and the abnormal things I pretend to ignore
* my absessed tooth - it haunts me with regularity
* people who live in the box - not to be confused with the homeless
* IBS although I haven't been haunted by the ailment in quite some time
* high school musical 1, 2 and 3
* the 2 guys straight out of Deliverance that threatened my sister and I because we weren't driving fast enough one car ahead of the scumbags...I suspect these people have little to live for but moments like these
* will the recession affect the Wendy's $1 menu
* fish sticks - worst food made available to man
* taking off a pair of boots after a long day in them
* those assholes in The Strangers - Tara isn't home!
* life without Flying Burrito
* anyone who says their favorite television show is The Hills
* neck jewelry made for the male gender
* cats - okay not really but I am running out of items to bullet here
* blue cheese - what is it?
* cockroaches - tougher to kill than those Vamps on True Blood (one of my fav shows)
* trying on a pair of my size 25 jeans straight out of the dryer
* long lines - patience really is a virtue I haven't quite adopted
* the chainsaw guy at the end of a haunted house - why am I always the innocent victim
* getting out of bed when my thermo reads 50 knowing I have to get in and out of the shower
* trick-or-treater's that won't go away because "I can see someone inside"

I could go on but I will save you the pain of my rants. Eat a Salty Nut Bar for me (the tasty treat you pervs), bob for an apple or two, and remember to be safe.

Good Night my friends,

J

this one's for my padre back home

Today is October 15 which signifies absolutely nothing. On second thought:
Today will be the best day of someone’s life and for someone it will be the worst. Where's the entertainment in this? There's none. Welcome to October 15.

The office in which I work is being renovated. At any given moment of the day there is a crew of 10 plus diligently pounding, pulling, and scurrying up and down the halls. The foreigners, most legal citizens, are a hard working bunch and smiley to boot. The upside to the ear piercing hammering and headache inducing paint smell is I am learning Spanish.

Today at 103 pounds, quickly losing the muscle I worked hard to gain, and sans any real training to speak of for weeks I crave exercise and all the wonderful benefits that are connected to pumping blood and breathing oxygen. With the weather tempting me to play outside I have an itch to run the mountain, the mountain being my workout of choice, alas my exercise of preference has been put on temporary hiatus after my experience on the trail Friday. As I set to defeat the mountain I was intercepted by a perfect stranger within 2 minutes of my run [sidenote: remember the television hit Perfect Strangers starring Balki Bartokomous - I miss it]. The man informs me that his eyes were drawn to not one but several cottonmouth snakes during his mountain climb. Readers I am petrified of God's worst creature made of the reptile famile. I didn't wait for the guy to get into his car before I jumped in mine. If I were training for an Olympic sport this guy would be called a medal blocker. My opponents' dirty rotten scoundral, if you will. For now I will refer to him as Slugwart. In the meantime I am sad that I have been swayed from a once highly enjoyable and rewarding workout.













It's better to be safe than sorry so just in case I find myself at the mountain anytime soon I want to know what those disgusting creatures of death look like. After a few clickity clicks of the keyboard the google search generated a FAQ about the venomous beasts that included the following words: Aggressive, Alligator mouth, Deadly, PMS (dare me to prove you wrong) and "will find you and attack." No way Jose. Speaking of Jose, one of the renovators is barely pushing cinco feet tall. The tall one is wearing an Extreme Makeover Home Edition t-shirt and this impresses me quite a bit. I have learned by eavesdropping (I'm curious) that one goes by the name Pablo. Duh. You should have heard the ringtone his cell just blasted. My guess is it was Mexico's National Anthem.

In other news, I’ve acquired a Kenyan penpal, Kanai, and to be quite honest the steps taken to manufacture this friendship have escaped my mind. Breaking the urge to be subtle aside I came right out and questioned my African friend to what did I owe such honor. Apparently Kanai and I met several years ago through a friend of mine he went to grad school with in the states. Kanai writes me on a regular basis. He is fascinated with American politics and all the other glorious, highly publicized matters born and raised here in the U.S. of A. Here is an excerpt from Kanai’s email today:

“So how has your week been so far? How is the economy doing? They've had the bank crisis on CNN and in the newspapers international section. America is a resilient society so things will get better after everything hits bottom."

I like how Kanai asks me how the economy is doing as if inquiring about the weather. “Oh, it's half past shitty."

By the way, have you noticed that some people are victims of their own stereotypes? Why not skip the taco bell and grab a six inch sub? Don't become a casualty to cliche' Pablo. Run!

In closing I compare my day to a Benetton commercial, minus the cool stripes in a variety of colors. I plan to make a trip to the gym where the stair machine (readers not to be confused with stair stepper) will inevitably kick my ass followed by draining my bod of every last drop of agua via the steam room. For the record, I didn't learn the word agua today - I knew that one.

I miss crabapple.

~ Jl

We refer to this as 'the one strum'














RaNdaLe

2 - 7!!!

lost in transition

fishsticks, fiddlesticks, pick up sticks, stack of bricks

I am blown away when I stop and think about how quickly we arrive at the first of a new month. I don't even remember April - did we skip it? It's a scary yet invigorating feeling. I have really learned to not take anything for granted.

I'm a little heartbroken today which you won't catch me bloggin' about much - if ever - really an emotion I prefer to keep to myself. I'm trying to keep a positive outlook which is a sentiment that's getting easier every day. I have been absent minded for over a week. It's not a healthy way to go about my days. I am growing a friend for my ulcer. It's not often that I throw myself into a tizzy but when I do my body takes a beating from the stress. Eating has been frowned upon which after my weekend of glutony this is a positive result. I feel similar to how you feel when you suck down that last gin and tonic and regret it immediately - dizzy and aloof while vomit rests impatiently in the back of your throat teasing you with possibility. Desperate for this feeling to fade.

Maybe I should become a blonde. Maybe I should reunite with an old friend. Maybe I need a new hobby. Maybe Zuber and I should rekindle our love affair. I miss that guy. Speaking of missing a guy, Randale graced me with his presence last night for a short but sweet catchup session and it served as a much needed escape from my pouty demeanor. I could lie and say the lighthearted conversation made me happy but honestly it was the glass of wine.

These lovely lyrics come from a song that has grown on me like a bad habit and it comes highly recommended.

Wilco's "Either Way"

Maybe the sun will shine today
The clouds will blow away
Maybe I won’t feel so afraid
I will try to understand
Either way

A picture of Jerry Seinfeld and I:













It's a little hard to tell from the picture but I gained a decent 2-5 pounds this past weekend. My parents instilled a healthy relationship towards food growing up only to fatten me as an adult. I ate so much Sunday night it caused heart palpitations.

Because of my funk I may treat myself to something special tonight. A pedicure I don't have to perform would be rewarding. If I had an appetite I'd go for a big, juicy steak. I will admit my loss of appetite didn't interfere with the 5-8 peices of bacon I ate early this morning (they were skinny). Some things can never be stopped.

In closing, I am optimistic about October. ~ jojo

My sister Kelly is in town for the weekend and I can't wait to spend a couple of days with her and baby Ethan. Who's Ethan? Well, just the prettiest baby boy I have ever set eyes on. Don't believe me? Take a gander:

From Memorial Day Weekend 08

The other boy in the picture is my nephew Brennan who incidentally looks like a dinosaur here.

GO HOGS!!!

From Nikki's Visit Sept '08

Warning readers: this blog is going to be as entertaining as your first time at third base. Don't fool yourself into thinking it was fun.

I have Fine Young Cannibals finest "I've Been Thinking About You" stuck in my head. Target must've had it playing at a level so low while shopping this afternoon the tune sucked on to my subconscious like a desperate vulcher. Why god, why?

That's not the only thing I walked away with from the discount store visit. I took a chance on what looked like a mouth watering Italian sausage, compliments to the Target snack bar chef, and now I am regretting that choice. What goes down should never come up. Sure the thing was tasty when I consumed it 3 hours ago but now I find myself having to swallow the semi processed meat for the second time. Indigestion = no friend of mine.

I have a new theme song. It's Spoon's Two Sides/Monsieur Valentine. Don't go stealing it. It peps me up. With SAD right around the bend I have been battling the end of summer blues. We know what's next: fewer daylight hours and cooler temperatures. Have I mentioned how much I loathe cold weather? To spice things up a bit allow me to share with you dogs a couple of exciting things I learned over the past week: (a) yes it's possible to be solicited for sex in a grocery store parking lot on a Thursday afternoon by a homosexual and (b) never mistake the small little blue pills for ibuprofen unless you have time to devote to a coma.

One of those "getting to know your friends" chain emails went around today. Of course it was the one hundredth time I was getting to know this particular group of friends but I threw caution to the wind and signed up for the challenge. I was stumped, I guess for the one hundredth time, by question #38: "Do you like surprises?" Profound I know. Quiz wizard I need clarification. Is this the "SURPRISE Happy 28th Birthday Party" kind of surprise or the "what do you mean there are 2 plus signs" kind of surprise? Two totally different things.

But honestly, I deal with a wide range of surprise daily. I was surprised when I went with the new fire taco during a hunger peak leaving me sadly disappointed. I am surprised by what my dreams try to tell me night after night through variations of the same dream. I am surprised to see things run smoothly when I expect a disaster. I was recently surprised to learn I do like a song off of Thom Yorke’s two year old disaster Eraser. I am surprised that a legit record producer signed on Heidi Montag. I am surprised that at 33 I still struggle differentiating left from right. I am surprised that some things keep getting better and better. I am surprised when I make it home after the gas needle has been pushing E for a day or two. I am surprised for every horrible song out there, and they are plentiful, at least one person in this world claims it as their favorite. What a wonderful world!

Fitness: it's what I am [trying to be] all about. I'd like to take a moment and share with you several photos captured during a trial run as a personal trainer. I think you'll like them.
























You see, exercise is much more enjoyable and not the slightest bit painful when you've consumed more than 3 alcoholic beverages. You hardly remember the effort! The next morning you wake up asking yourself "why am I so sore" and as the dreariness and headache vanishes "oh yeah - cardio coolers." Sure we look like a group of circus monkeys in that last one but fitness should be entertaining. My last photo is saying "try not to get stuck in a fitness rut - keep things interesting."

Going to win some money tonight dirty dogs...Poker [bunko]. NIGHT!

Goulash

Today's post will consist of blogs - ramblings if you will - created yet never finished and until today have been lingering somewhere in the world of drafts.
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It always happens when I am fighting time, in dire need to use the bathroom, and experiencing an unusually intense case of impatience. I get stuck in line behind some lollygagger who has nothing but time. The most recent case occurred this afternoon during what was suppose to be an in-and-out trip to Kmart to pick up a greeting card. One small less than $5 item. Big store - one checkout line. The female patron, Shaquita, works for an Abuse Center according to the tag dangling from her oversized shirt and today is buying every paper product produced at Kimberly Clark. How unfortunate that life necessitites not only one giant size package of Maxi Pads, with wings, but also an economy size package of Depends. Rumor has it Darlene is not the only one in the house wearing diapers because she also collected a package of tot sized Pampers.
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In an attempt to spice up the monotony of every day life I am going to start addressing people by their first and last names.
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As I was walking out of my new favorite Mexican eatery Sunday afternoon I observed a young girl, maybe in her early 20's, who was sobbing into the palms of her hands and it stopped me in my tracks. I watched as the pain grew on the girls' face. It was the type of crying that couldn't be prevented no matter how hard she was trying. The troubled soul was dining with two girls of similar age. She ordered a drink that went untouched as her lunch companions dove into their taco salads. Having been in similar grievous situations I instinctively felt her pain as if it were my own. My mind flashed to agonizing moments of my past where nothing could bring me out of that in-the-moment, overwhelming pain. It's as if you are living but lifeless simply going through the motions. A slave to your emotions alienated from the world around you. As I longed to give reassurance to the young girl that things would eventually be okay I said a silent prayer for her while hoping I would never be where she was again whether it be due to good luck, proper choices or positive perspective.
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Experience has shown year after year that one week post birthday is no good. This might be the annual week off for my guardian angel. Perhaps I am feeling a little blue that the birthday activities have come and gone left with a couple kodaks of an inebriated girl and her inebriated friends getting boo'ed while singing karaoke [for the record we were show stopping]. Last year my house was broken into the week after my 32nd. This particular week also signifies the end of summer preparing us for cold, dark days ahead. Today, a mere 3 days into my 33's, I got a speeding ticket in a no tolerance school zone. I won't argue with the principle of the matter (who wants to hit a kid) but it's July 31st, dirty dogs, and school is not yet in session. The big and bad cop that stopped me was nice but shameless. The officer leaned on his bike as a cigarette stuck to his lower lip held on for dear life. He lured me to him with his right hand and signaled me to stop when I notice a ticket in his left glove. I know what a badass, right, who wears gloves in July? I have a fishy suspicion this man of law was delinquent on his end of the month ticket quota and was requried to meet the delinquency by close of business. What happened to warnings by the way? A ticket for traveling 5 miles over the tragically low 25 limit is a hard pill to swallow. I can barely afford gasoline let alone a $200 ticket. If I really start to think about how much money is spent towards my car it makes my stomach hurt. Car payment (although 10 months from being paid off) personal property taxes, another 30 bucks for tags not to mention the cost to insure the darn thing. I don't even like to drive!
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life in the fast lane

[thanks Jess, Ellie, and Nikki for clarity - you're right who cares]

Feeling a little energetic, likely due to the modest size box of red hots I devoured in two swallows. I don't know what is keeping me in this chair.

I want to share a humbling tale with you, blogspot. I just opened my purse, desiring to smother my lips with some gloss, and felt a little ashamed and a bit humored at what I saw. An unopened pregnancy test resting on top of my bible.

Explanation 1 (most important naturally): The Bible Querey Answered.

One of my goals this year is to read my Womens Devotional Bible - For Women - New International Version from front to back. As a young Catholic girl I read a more traditonal version in its entirety during religion class but acknowledge the self interpretation today would be far more beneficial than it was for a prepubescent 12 year old. That being the case, I keep the book of god in my purse for those precious moments when I find myself with some down time. Not that the bible isn’t worthy of real time - you know what I mean.

Explanation 2 and a bit more comical (= scary): The Baby Theory – Is She Or Isn’t She.

Saturday morning, prior to what I hoped would be a day of tailgating shenanigans, I found myself at the local food and beer store standing in the condom/pregnancy test/UTI aisle, aka the aisle of shame, pricing pregnancy tests. Wanting to climb out of my own skin I grab an EPT box (2 tests included) priced down to a steal at $9.99 while juggling a 6 pack of Bud Lite Lime and a hard pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights. [Sidenote: I hope when that day comes I find myself standing at the golden gates with Our Lord that this is not one of the pictures he flashes in the sky.] For the record, the smokes were for the anticipated mid afternoon beer buzz and I did not plan to smoke the menthols should the test result in a plus. I planned to suck down 6 Bud Lite Limes regardless of the test outcome. [Oh readers try not to be so gullible.]

To add to the delight of this shopping venture the aisle of shame happens to be in plain sight from the beer section where three acquaintances of mine just happened to be contemplating the various selections of foam beverages to bring to the tailgate party I was, oddly enough, minutes away from attending. I was not privy to this information while holding beer, tests and smokes. Pleasantries were exchanged but not before looks. The real pain occurred later as I watched the three musketeers, toting beer and one gigantic bag of original Lays, approach the tailgate as I sip on my first Bud Lite Lime.

Here's the news. I am not pregnant. The pee test had a positive outcome = it was negative. At the time I truly didn’t believe I was with fetus. The reasoning behind my pregnancy phobia is that for weeks, including the weekend in Dallas, I was punished with immense nausea. On the day of the EPT purchase the queasiness peaked. To amplify my fears mymonthlycycles.com never failed to remind me, with regularity, of my irregularity (3 days late) kudos to their friendly calendar reminder. The final answer presented itself within a matter of hours following application of the pee test during a routine trip to the restroom. The nausea, however, stuck around for the duration of my Saturday preventing me from enjoying the tailgating antics friends and acquaintances participated in that afternoon. In a jealous daze I attempted to trick my body into feeling fantastic while I forced down my second Bud Lite Lime only to wind up at my sister's house vomiting in her toilet. What makes this incident particularly neat is that the sister's restroom does not lock. Apparently when her house was built, some seventy plus years ago, people were less modest. When the strange man walked in on me blowing chunks (I mean that as literal as possible) and glanced at the toilet filled with a partially digested supersonic burrito soaked in Bud Lite Lime I decided I was all out of dignity and allowed my body to do what it had been screaming to do all morning. Reflecting back on that moment I don't recall seeing that guy again for the rest of the day.

The remainder of my Saturday was spent on my sister’s couch lifeless and miserable. In a semi conscious state I heard friends and acquanitances come and go like giddy school children telling tales of the good times that were had and gushing about the ones soon to come while enjoying burgers, dogs, and booze. The awkward grocery store run-in was later mentioned by one of the three musketeers. Rumor has it I was trying to hide the fact I was shopping for condoms. This kinda hurts worse than pregnancy speculation.

I have since removed the unused test from my purse unwilling to be that girl who mistakes an EPT for a pen while making out a deposit slip at The Bank of America. My fingers are tightly crossed that the test will remain unused. The Womens Devotional Bible goes where I go because I am fully committed to reading the 1454pages of fine print before 2012 [the end of days right Matthew?]

I hope I was able to entertain you, once again, with the unique life of Josie.

Nik will be in town next weekend and I am tres excite! Things tend to get a little crazy when she and I get together but I am going to suggest we keep things on da low key just as we did in the pic below. GOODNIGHT friends and lovers.