Tidbits of Utter Randomness

Why does it sound like there is someone weedwacking directly outside my 5th floor window? Just curious. It's almost midnight. Stop it. Thanks.

Also, why are there 7-11s in Dallas, but not in Houston? ...and while we're speaking of inequities between Houston and our neighbor to the north...why does Dallas get a Bloomies? It's just not fair. This is me, pouting.

this is why i never wear these pants.

I’m having a punishment pants day again. (Hated it!) Ugh. Day ruiner to the max. Let me explain so you can fully understand and commiserate:

punishment pants [puhn-ish-muh nt pants]

–noun

1.      Pants or trousers that fit perfectly when first put on, but begin to tighten uncomfortably throughout the length of the wear; especially after any meals, snacks, or beverages have been consumed.

–synonyms

Muffin-top Makers

Waistline Wringers

–example

Becks thought she might pass out because her punishment pants were restricting her breathing.

Reflection Internal

I can’t believe it’s already almost April. I had the realization yesterday that my birthday is very quickly approaching…which means I’m almost thirty. Damn. Thirty. The BIG 3-0. That’s a lot of candles. Funny, how I never imagined myself at this age. Does anyone?

We spend our whole childhood looking forward to aging. And, surprisingly, the anticipation grows greater as you get older. I couldn’t wait until I turned 13, because I thought that being a teenager was going to be soooo cool (I was wrong). I really couldn’t wait for 16, because the appeal of being able to drive alone was all I could think about at that age; it just felt like independence was at my fingertips (again, I was wrong). 18 was obviously a big deal because I graduated from HS, moved out of my parents’ house, and started college…and because I could finally get into clubs and shake a tailfeather [legally]…and then there was 21. Ah, 21. What a great age. The “coming-of-age” age, in fact. Not a care in the world, but where to grab my next adult beverage.  23-25 seem like distant memories, but I remember that I looked forward to the real independence 25 promised: being able to rent a car on my own, a real career, homeownership; the whole shebang. 26-28 flew by with love and marriage (but no baby carriage just yet), a big move and some life-altering career changes.

…and now I’m here. With 30 almost at my doorstep…and I’m not sure it’s exactly as I pictured. There are changes in myself I’ve started to notice that never envisioned when I was young. I never imagined myself getting to an age where I preferred staying at home on the couch in my pj’s over running wild in the streets and partying from Monday through Monday, or where I pass without puffing first. I never imagined that I would worry over wrinkles, saggy skin, and my bedtime (a girl needs her beauty rest, you know). Furthermore, I definitely never imagined that I would ever get to an age where I would outgrow 4-inch stilettos (kind of) or short shorts (working on it).

The thing is - life is good. I really have no complaints. I’m one of the lucky few who actually really like their job. I have great friends and family (for the most part). I’m happy. I could have never imagined how amazing and loving my husband is, or how exciting it was to buy my first German car (face it; some things just aren’t always better when made in the U.S.A.). I especially couldn’t have imagined the fabulosity I could attain with simple self-confidence. Yes, life is good…and I’m looking forward to what’s to come. 29 has been great, but I think 30 look will look even better on me. I’m not scared of getting older. With age comes different experiences that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

So you know what I say? I say, hurry up, 30! You’re missing all of the [calmer; more sedate, mature, grown and sexy] fun! But please…stay awhile. ‘Cause I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around 40.

The Hip Bone's Connected to The...?

I had a funny random memory when I was in the shower the other morning. Like most people, I’m pretty sure I do some of my best thinking in the bathroom. But anyway, I had a random flashback to 9^th grade Biology at good ol’ Spruce Creek High with Mr. Campbell (RIP), when we were learning about the human body. I think we’d just finished learning about the different systems within the body, specifically the respiratory system. My friend Kevin raised his hand to ask a question:

Mr. Campbell: Yes, Kevin?

Kevin: Uh…Mr. Campbell? I don’t know how to say this…but…are the testicles somehow connected to the respiratory system?

Mr. Campbell: Um…no. Why do you ask?

Kevin: Well, I know I can’t breathe anytime I get hit in the balls.

Hi-larious. I think I actually chuckled aloud in the shower. Gotta love funny little jaunts down memory lane.

Going Green?

Ok, so here’s the thing. I am actually a believer in things like global warming and I think that perhaps today’s society doesn’t really understand the full extent of the damage we are doing to our planet. I get it; I really do. The problem is…I still can’t seem to get my actions to coincide with this whole going green thing. My intentions are good, but I just have issues with actual execution. Last night, I was thinking about all of my terrible habits and came up with the following list:

5 Ways to Quickly Identify That You Are Contributing to the Detriment of the Earth

1.   You refuse to stop drinking water out of plastic bottles. Listen, some people prefer bottled beverages over cups/glasses. I’m definitely not judging (for obvious reasons). Water smells weird when you drink it out of a glass.

2.   You drive a Hummer/Yukon XL/Suburban, or any other extremely large vehicle…and it’s not even a hybrid. (For the record, I don’t drive a ridiculously large vehicle...or a hybrid…I just observe a lot of them on the Houston highways. Those things cannot be good for the environment.)

3.   You always require fresh towels and sheets when you stay in a hotel, even though most hotels now offer the option of keeping the same towels/sheets for the duration of your stay in an effort to conserve water. I kind of feel like that’s the whole purpose of staying in a hotel. Not having to clean up after yourself and always coming back to a made-up bed and fresh towels. No?

4.  You start your shower to let the water “warm up” while you brush your teeth, put your contacts in, and pick out your clothes. (I always have the intention of getting right in the shower.)

5.  You don’t recycle. (In my defense, our apartment complex doesn’t even offer the option of recycling. I recycle when I have the option; but it’s a little difficult when I don’t. My fault? I think not.)

Basically, the long and short of it is...do your part. Bad habits are like assholes; everyone has one. But at the end of the day, this isn't our planet to keep...we're just renting the space for a little while. Try a little harder. If not for your own sake, for your [future] kids' sake. I will too. Promise.

Source: http://www.iziggblog.com/izigg-creating-green-marketing-practices-small-business

Prescription Drug Side Effects – Does the Bad Outweigh the Good?

Before I begin this morning’s post, let me say – I am absolutely a proponent of pharmacology. I think that there are some medical conditions which require treatment through the use of prescription medications. I am the first one to schedule an appointment with my GP if I am not feeling well. However, have you ever really paid attention to those prescription medication commercials? I mean really listened.

Ridiculously chipper content aside (I mean, who is really happy with genital herpes?), all of those drug commercials are pretty inconsequential…until they get to the side effects. How many people are willing to suffer through those terrible side effects, just to reach an end result? I can understand if the medication is needed for some potentially life-threatening condition. But what about people who are looking to stop smoking, cure acne or lose a little bit of weight?

There are three medications that I would like to highlight today that are taken for the abovementioned indications and come with a list of side effects that would make any rational person stop and take note:

Alli – This drug was endorsed in 2007 by Oprah Winfrey as an FDA-approved, over-the-counter weight loss drug that “…prevents your body from digesting about 25 percent of the fat in your food. In studies, people who took the pill while dieting typically lost 50 percent more weight than those who just dieted.” Sounds great, right? What Oprah did not emphasize was the undesirable side effects that can occur when taking Alli, including (but not limited to):

Gas with an oily anal discharge
Loose stools or diarrhea
More frequest bowel movements
Hard-to-control bowel movements

Um…gas with an oily anal discharge? Hard-to-control bowel movements? Wow. So let me get this straight – not only will I shart, I also run the risk of shitting my pants at any given moment? No, thanks. I guess nobody thought to ask where that 25% of the fat in your food that your body isn’t digesting was going. No need to ask – it’s apparently going to come flying out of your asshole for a little afternoon delight.  

Accutane – This was a very popular drug back in my high school days, used for the treatment of severe acne. How bad can the side effects of acne medication be, right?  Well, this particular drug has so many adverse side effects; I thought I would just include the best of the best. See for yourself:

Depression
Erectile dysfunction (difficulty in maintaining erection)
Violent behavior/aggression
Psychosis (seeing or hearing things that are not real)
Suicidal ideation (rare)
Suicide attempts
Hearing impairment
Major birth defects
Blood-red vision
Stroke
Seizures

WTF? I’m gonna go ahead and put it all out there: NOT WORTH IT. Just for clear skin? So, let me get this straight - although the men who take Accutane may end up with skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom…even if they could then get a date, the probability of being able to seal the deal…slim to none. I can just see it now, “Sorry, baby. It’s not you; it’s my meds.” Talk about the perfect FML post. Haha the best part of this list is that the manufacturer felt the need to qualify some of the side effects...you have suicidal ideations, but it's rare. You are far more likely to TRY to kill yourself than to just THINK about it. What also really gets me is the manufacturer’s response to an inquiry about the most important information patients should know about Accutane: “Accutane may cause serious mental health problems.” Super. People who take Accutane will indeed end up with clear skin. The only drawback is that they also may end up dead, or in a mental hospital. Yikes.

Chantix – This is my personal favorite. Chantix is a drug that is prescribed to help people stop smoking. I think it’s commendable that people want to quit this nasty habit…but I would suggest they opt for Nicorette, or good, old-fashioned willpower. The side effects for Chantix suck. Pretty much everyone I have spoken to that has ever taken it experienced adverse side effects within the 1^st month…and when I say adverse, I mean adverse. The manufacturer doesn’t simply list a few possible side effects; this drug comes with a full on warning:

WARNING

SERIOUS NEUROPSYCHIATRIC EVENTS

Serious neuropsychiatric events including, but not limited to, depression, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt and completed suicide have been reported in patients taking CHANTIX. Some reported cases may have been complicated by the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal in patients who stopped smoking. Depressed mood may be a symptom of nicotine withdrawal. Depression, rarely including suicidal ideation, has been reported in smokers undergoing a smoking cessation attempt without medication. However, some of these symptoms have occurred in patients taking CHANTIX who continued to smoke.

All patients being treated with CHANTIX should be observed for neuropsychiatric symptoms including changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, and suicide-related events, including ideation, behavior, and attempted suicide. These symptoms, as well as worsening of pre-existing psychiatric illness and completed suicide, have been reported in some patients attempting to quit smoking while taking CHANTIX in the postmarketing experience. When symptoms were reported, most were during CHANTIX treatment, but some were following discontinuation of CHANTIX therapy.

It sounds to me that basically what they are saying is…just keep smoking. You’ll probably eventually die of lung cancer or heart disease…but hey, we all have to die some day. Wouldn’t you rather die happy with a ciggie in your hand, than because you killed your entire family (and then yourself) in a Chantix-induced rage?

I’ll leave you with this simple thought: Yes, we live in an undeniably shallow society. But at the end of the day, most people prefer fat, cigarette smokers with severe acne than impotent psychotic people with homicidal thoughts and explosive diarrhea.

The Joys of Flying with Southworst Airlines

Am I the only person who hates flying Southwest (or as I like to call them, Southworst)?

Source: http://news.icanhascheezburger.com/2009/07/02/political-pictures-southwest-airlines/

I mean, they reel you in with their promises of cheaper airfare and bags flying for free…but does anyone really like flying Southworst? I know I don’t. The best comparison that I can think of is that flying Southworst is like being on a Greyhound bus…with wings…and more expensive tickets. I think; I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever ridden the Greyhound. But I imagine it is very similar.

As much as I hate flying Southworst, I often find myself doing so anyway because of the cheap fares. With the price of gas and airplane tickets rapidly rising, sometimes a girl has got to do what she has got to do; especially when that girl has a tendency towards procrastination. Such is the case for this weekend’s trip.

This morning, I had the privilege of being in boarding group B, so I just patiently waited until it was my group’s turn to join the line. As long as I’m in my section, I’m not going to nickel and dime the other people about what specific boarding position they have. The sections are divided into increments of five. What’s the worst that could happen; you end up behind the other four people in your section, instead of ahead of them? BFD. I always chuckle a little when I see people comparing boarding passes and then one proclaiming victoriously, “Oh, I’m ahead of you.” Congratulations! You get to board the plane one step ahead of me. I bet that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

After making it through the boarding line, it was on to the long trek through the gate tunnel, whichof course, was not climate controlled. They never are! Why is that? All of those people crowding in those tunnels, breathing their hot breath and coughing and sneezing their germs around, plus a lack of air circulation, like always, added up to a major fit of nausea for me. I might add, the people in those tunnels should adhere to the second commandment of elevator etiquette. If I can feel your aforementioned hot ass breath on any part of my body; you are too close. Back it up and wait your turn. There’s not much more annoying than strangers standing so close that they can step on the back of your shoes.

I made it through all of the typical trials relatively unscathed, but just as I was about to mentally congratulate myself on maintaining my cool and not totally panicking with all of the bs going on around me, I stepped onto the plane and right into a guerilla assault on my olfactory senses. Awesome. Someone was nice enough to wait to take a shit until after they boarded the plane. Apparently the airport bathroom was not good enough; this thoughtful individual held their bowels (in order to claim their rightful place in the boarding line pecking order, no doubt) until they got to the already cramped airplane latrine with the recycled air ventilation system. SO rude.

Trying to escape the noxious fumes (and to choke back the overwhelming urge to vomit), I ran down the frustratingly narrow aisle, bumping countless sets of knees in my mad dash for a breath of fresh air. I looked around frantically, searching for a sign that I was not the only person who smelled death looming. Oddly enough, no one else seemed fazed, with the exception of the woman who was vigorously splashing herself with her purse-sized body splash. I’m pretty sure she was mumbling something to the effect of “Calgon, take me away.”

Needless to say, I plopped myself into the seat next to her and gratefully inhaled the lingering remnants of her delightful apple scent. So, to the woman sitting next to me in 8D on Southworst Flight #1305 to LAS, I thank you.

TSA – Short for This Sucks Ass?

I am flying to Las Vegas this weekend for a quick trip, so today’s theme will be travel. As much as I love to travel, the actual physical act of traveling to my destination of choice always leaves something to be desired. There’s the inevitable hike to the airport (Have you noticed that nobody ever really lives close to the airport? Logical, but not quite convenient.); the cluster you-know-what of trying to find the least expensive off-site parking lot with the cleanest looking shuttle buses; standing in line for ticketing/baggage check; and the crown jewel of traveling after 2001, what really makes traveling a good, strong, fist in the ass, is airport security.

Now don’t get me wrong; I applaud TSA for putting up with people constantly bitching and moaning and not being intelligent enough to figure out by now that yes, they have to take their shoes off, and yes, their watches must also come off, and yes, like the multiple signs say, their laptops and all liquid items need to come out of their bags. That must be annoying. I also am happy to comply with a quick screening and x-ray of my bags, if it means that I can rest assured that I will arrive at my destination safely. But is it too much to ask to make it through the security checkpoint with a modicum of dignity?

With the new giant x-ray machine/body scanner things they’ve got at most major airports nowadays, airplane travel has turned into somewhat of a nightmare. But apparently the body scan isn’t enough, because this morning, I definitely was subjected to not only a scan of my hot bod, but a glorious rubdown from TSA’s typical classy female employee…even though I purposely wore leggings so it would be quite apparent that I have nothing to hide. The experience was much like being on a terrible blind date that you can’t get out of with a random someone of the same sex that you picked up off of the side of the road (in the wrong neighborhood) that ends with a half-assed feel up and no happy ending. This obviously made my day.

To break the ice, I casually commented, “I’d have to be pretty talented if I could fit anything else into these leggings, don’t you think?”  (Not to mention, I already had to stand in the pervert portal and raise my hands above my head for the full screen. Remember when that happened? You know, 1.5 minutes ago? If I did have anything hidden; it’s a little disconcerting that it didn’t show up on that scan. That seems a little pointless, no?)

She laughed, “That’s what I was thinking.”

Well, if that’s what you were thinking, maybe you should go with that thought and let me continue on my merry way instead of rubbing me firmly up and down both of my legs, brushing teasingly against my crotch as if we’re experimental college girlfriends. I didn’t have friends like that then, and I don’t now; back off, lady. Let me pick my dignity up off the floor and move on with my life. Thanks, TSA.

Source: http://jasonjeffrey.wordpress.com/2010/11/24/the-distraction-of-the-week-tsa-rage-roundup/

Fashion Faux Pas Deux - The Dusty Mini Skirt

Picture this: You walk into a relatively nice bar to meet your work friends and commiserate over cocktails at Happy Hour. You're minding your business, walking up the stairs, when a woman at least twice your age shoulder checks you in her mad dash up the stairs, most likely to lay the mack down on some unsuspecting younger gentleman. Irritated, you look up (to mutter something snarky about manners, no doubt) and see this:

Let me preclude my comments with this little disclaimer...I love short skirts. I own several of them. In fact, several is an understatement. However, I do think that there should be an age limit for mini skirts. I mean, this woman was probably in her sixties. Listen, that's just offensive. Nobody wants to be in danger of seeing your old, dusty snatch as you parade it up two flights of stairs in a mini skirt with a pattern that Versace himself wouldn't have wiped his ass with. Also, you'll notice she has on her best sexy shoes that she can just easily slide her feet into. Was Easy Stride having a sale on geriatric stripper shoes? Not a good look.

Trust me: I know you must be on some sort of premeditated cougar mission to find yourself a nice, young man who will tell you how amazing you look in your satin mini skirt and make you feel 30 for a day...but next time, maybe you should consider a nice pair of slacks. I'm just saying; you might have better luck if you kept some of your business to yourself until at least the third date.

Fashion Faux Pas

This is a new section I thought to add regarding random fashion faux pas that I witness while out and about. I've gotten really reckless with pulling out my Blackberry and snapping random pics. I do it all for you. I have to share these fashion blunders as I see them, because they are just too good not to! Like it or not, some people just do not know how to dress. Not everyone can be helped. *I can't take credit for all of the hilarity you will see - I have to give a shout out to all of my "mean girl" friends who contribute content for our enjoyment.*

Please understand, none of my observations are meant to be mean. This is purely for entertainment purposes. It's not my fault; this is real life! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried...so where shall I begin?

Fashion Faux Pas Un - Corporate G.I. Jane

You would be uh-mazed at the fantastic finds we have at work. Like this lovely lady, Contestant #1.

Wtf was she thinking when she put these pants on in the morning? Is this appropriate attire for any job? WHAT is this camo print blending with?? Whatcha hiding in there? I'm pretty sure she cannot be incognito with those pants on. I think my favorite part is the bell sleeves on her shirt...and are those cowboy boots I see? The purse looks like it has a curious pattern or design, also. This is some good shit right here.

Stay tuned, folks. More to come.

You say Gaddafi, I say Kadhafi...

I like to think that I'm pretty smart, and that I [for the most part] keep up with current events. But I have to admit - this whole Libya thing has got me in a tizzy (for many reasons). For years, I have seen Moammar Kadhafi's name spelled just as I wrote it there...but with all of the recent buzz, I have seen it spelled so many different ways, that I actually began to question my own intelligence! I mean, with the G, the K, the Q, the -el in between...what's really going on here?

So...I Googled it. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Do you know that there are eighty-seven spelling variations of this man's name?
No, really. EIGHTY. SEVEN. I didn't know that was even possible!

http://www.theglobalist.com/StoryId.aspx?StoryId=5089

No wonder he's such an oppressive dick. You would be, too, if you had to remember eighty-seven ways to spell your own name! He also probably has to be on constant fraud alert. How easy must it be to steal his identity? Not that anyone would want to, or anything. That would be a little bit like applying for a credit card as Adolf Hitler or Kim Jong-Il. Pretty sure that wouldn't fly over here in the good ol' U S of A.

Oh, well; I digress...but if you ask me, K-A-D-H-A-F-I and G-A-D-D-A-F-I spell disaster, any way you write it.

BALLS!

    Source: http://www.oddballs.co.uk/juggling-balls-stage-balls-c-1190_2170.html

 Ok, there. I said it. And what a fun word it is!
Balls is SO great because of its versatility.

Obviously, it can be used as a noun (with several connotations, no less): "Where'd the ball go?" OR "Is that the guy with the old balls?!"
It can be used in an exclamatory way: "Balls!"
It can be used as an adjective: "This party is balls."
It can be used as a colorful noun in a simile: "It is hot as balls out there!"

Balls can be used as a weapon: "He was a terrible pitcher! He hit me twice with his balls (TWSS)!"
Balls can be foul (in more ways than one): "Foul ball!"
Balls can be fun...when you get to dress up in your finery and partake in a dance or two (get your mind out of the gutter).

I'd go on, but I don't want to bore you with my balls rantings.

In short, balls are fun to talk about, but that's pretty much the extent of their appeal. Unless you are a 3-5 year old or a man over the age of 13...in which case, you probably really enjoy playing with balls.

Hello? Is it Me You're Looking For?

Welcome back! I'm sure you've missed me so. This morning's topic is elevator etiquette.

I am subjected to various elevator rides with random people every day at my job. One would think that in corporate America, people would be intelligent enough to understand that there are certain unspoken rules regarding appropriate etiquette when riding a public elevator.
One would think.
Unfortunately, let me be the first to tell you, that is NOT the case.

Perhaps the underlying issue is that, indeed, no one has actually ever written these rules of etiquette. Most of it is common sense/courtesy, but you never know who in this world has brought-upsy and who does not. I would venture to say that the majority of people unfortunately, do not. So, let's call this the Three basic Commandments of Elevator Etiquette:

1. THOU SHALT NOT CUT PEOPLE IN LINE - One would think that this is a pretty obvious rule. If you don't cut people in any other line, why start now? Why is it acceptable to cut people who have been waiting for the elevator long before you arrived? What makes your destination any more important? I HATE it when I am the first to arrive to an elevator bank, I press the button, and then a throng of sheep come to also catch the elevator to escape their own personal Corporate hell. So, because said crowd has arrived, I shift slightly to the side to accommodate them (people in TX are big, what can I say?). When the elevator doors open, said crowd pushes its way into the elevator, brushing me to the side, as though I wasn't the one who originally called the elevator to begin with. Furthermore, because I have respect for people's personal bubbles, I will not force myself and my big ass purse onto the over-crowded elevator, because I don't want to crash to my death; so I have to take the next elevator...and the cycle repeats. Which brings me to #2:
2. THOU SHALT NOT STAND NUT TO BUTT - HUGE pet peeve. I'm sorry, but cramming 8-10 people into an average-sized elevator is just unacceptable. Everyone should have respect for people's personal space (just as a general rule in life), and I feel as though that primal right is violated everytime some asshole feels the need to shove into whatever tiny little space they can find on an already over-filled elevator. Stranger Danger! Back off! If I can feel your breath on any part of my body, you are TOO CLOSE. Take the next elevator. Nobody wants to rub genitals with strangers on an elevator. It's just uncomfortable all around.
3. THOU SHALT WAIT YOUR TURN - Oh, boy. This is another big one for me. If there are people on the elevator and you are getting on, you should wait until everybody who needs to get off actually makes their exit before you come swaggering on with your self-importance. It's a little bit like when you open the door for yourself, and someone takes advantage and scoots in directly in front of you before you can make your exit/entrance. It's RUDE. Hi, I just rode the effing elevator with 10 people down 6 flights and I'm already irritated and/or anxious. Get the hell out of my way and let me get off this death trap before you add your body weight to it. Thanks.

Now that you know how to properly behave (though I never thought for one minute that any of my friends/readers would be so ill behaved), please pass this little gem on to everyone you know. I'm trusting you to disseminate the word.

random regrets

Regret is a funny thing. I've always said that I live my life with no regrets, because I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Every action has a purpose, whether that purpose is realized instantly, or later on down the road. The thing is, I don't live my life without regrets. I regret lots of things!

I regret eating pizza for lunch, then fried rice for dinner (FAIL).
At least once a week, I regret going to happy hour instead of the gym.
I always regret not having my umbrella during the rainy season.
I regret being so repulsed by the idea of going to the store on Christmas Eve, that I wrapped all my gifts with glossy tape. I hate that shit.
Speaking of Christmas, I regret that our lights have been up on our balcony since the year we moved in...two Christmases ago.
I regret not buying the most perfect houndstooth racerback top with this super chic bow detail when I had the chance at Nordstrom two years ago.
I regret leaving my conditioner in the last hotel I stayed in.
I regret not cleaning out my closet...every. single. weekend.
I regret every single typo I've ever made. Ever. In life.

I could go on and on with random regret after random regret...
...but why sweat the small stuff?

Not to mention, if I go on any longer...I'm definitely going to regret this post in the morning.

Fat Guy on a Litte Scooter

So I'm driving down the street, minding my own business, when I hear what sounds like the engine of a toy train revving up behind me. Imagine my surprise when I looked out my window to find this:

I felt obligated to take a picture! Honestly? Come. On. And he was sooooo serious about it! This picture doesn't quite do it justice. It's almost as though the scooter was scaled up in the picture. Trust me. In person, he looked like a circus bear on a tricycle. With an engine.

This is a wonderful reminder that it's the little things in life, you know? Little things like tiny scooters with tiny, little engines and pink polo shirts with the collar slightly popped. I can't imagine how he could fit all of that douchebaggery onto that little scooter. Congratulations on your accomplishment, guy. I'm sure your mother is very proud.

blasianbitchwithablog

Hold on to your hats, folks! I have arrived. Hide your kids, hide your wives…and hide your husbands, too. After much trepidation and deliberation, I have [finally] decided to start my very own blog. I’m not sure what gives me the false hope that anyone thinks I’m clever and witty enough to actually read my blog…but let’s face it, I don’t really care. This is all about ME: my random thoughts, my snarky, under-my-breath mutterings, my complaints, my joys, my trials, my tribulations…ME.

If you don’t like it, hit the bricks.

Nobody is making you read this.

I abscond myself of any liability for your reading pleasure.

Let me go ahead and apologize in advance for anything I may write that offends your delicate sensibilities…but…this thing is called blasianbitchwithablog…what did you expect? I mean, really. It’s pretty transparent. I’m blasian. I can be quite the bitch. I have a blog.

The end.

Again, if you are not a fan – beat. It. Nobody likes a party pooper.

So, now that my little disclaimer is out of the way, let’s get to the nitty gritty. How about an introduction? I am the blasianbitchwithablog. I would say the one and only, but it appears as though racial ambiguity is becoming more and more popular. I’m no longer the only mixed kid on the block! What a relief. I have a lot to say – and it’s not always nice (but it’s usually pretty funny). I live a pretty average life…okay, maybe slightly over average…but I won’t rub your nose in it. Lord knows, braggarts never prosper. I live in Houston, TX with my hubs of two years. No kids, no pets. Yet, anyway. I’m fairly certain that if I would allow it, my husband would impregnate me at his first opportunity. I’d love to make it to my 30^th birthday before I have to sign my life away to a needy newborn. Call it selfish; call it what you want, but…it’s my uterus. So, back off.

Hmmm, what else should be included in a proper introduction? Likes and dislikes? I have a lot. Let me see if I can summarize in a list format:

Likes: people who mind their manners, a good belly laugh, brunch with friends (who doesn’t like brunch?!), big words, hijinks and shenanigans, good spelling and grammar, fashion, people watching, being lazy, the ellipsis (in case you hadn’t noticed my blatant overuse just yet), daydreaming, houndstooth print, remembering my dreams long enough to recant them, good music, asking questions, riding with the top down/roof open, good storytellers and stuff. Yes, I said it. Stuff. I mean, what girl doesn’t like stuff?

Oh man, where do I begin on the bad things? I’ll try to keep it short, since I would imagine that the majority of my dislikes will eventually end up on my blog as they randomly occur to me.

Dislikes:  RUDE PEOPLE, traffic, rude people IN traffic, stupid people, people who loudly proclaim their beliefs and try to shove their morals down my throat, smelly people, douchey people, obnoxious people…wait. This list could go on and on forever…it looks like all of my dislikes revolve around people…so do I just dislike people? Wow. That felt like a cathartic revelation. Did you feel it, too?

Ok. That’s enough about me. I’m sure you’ll learn all you care to know if, after reading this, you decide to tune in to more of my ramblings. This was fun. We should do it more often. For now though, I’m out.