Pillow Talk With Holly and Harry Hangover

This morning was pure comedy in my household. Last night was bowling night with the girls from work, which almost always results in a hungover Friday. Today was no different. To make matters worse, the hubs had man night last night (which also almost always results in a hangover), so I couldn't even whine until he rubbed my back. He was too busy whining, too. To say we were a sad pair this morning is the understatement of the year. Luckily, we both might have still been drunk, so there were a lot of silly shenanigans going on (nothing sexual or anything . . . I'm pretty sure sexy time would have made me barf*) to make up for the horrific headache and the spinning room. I thought I'd share some of our craziness with you, just for shiggles. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Holly: Ufffffffffff.
Harry: I am hungover like a whoooooooooore!
Holly: Uffffff. <pregnant** dramatic pause> Yeah. A whore that went to a really great party last night with a whole lotta free booze. Whores love free booze.
Harry: Everybody loves free booze.
Holly: Yeah, but if my headache is any indication, it must have been a whores' party with buckets and buckets of champagne. Because champagne makes your head hurt. And whores love it.

Then, somehow we got on the topic of tampons. Don't ask.

Harry: We should invent a new line of tampons and call them Corks. With an "x." C-O-R-X. That would be awesome.
Holly: Bahaha! Why the "x"? Because of the X chromosomes? That's clever.
Harry: Uh, yeah. That, too. But mostly because of the amazing marketing you could do. "Corx! They're extraordinary!" Can't you just see the commercial now?
Holly: Yeah, and we could have chicks chugging big ol' bottles of wine, and then corking them. You know, just to illustrate the point.
Harry: Yes! It should be red wine. And there should be a demonstration where they pour red wine into the Corx to prove how effective they are.
Holly: Xtra strength Corx! For those extra heavy days.
Harry: The stronger the Corx, the more "x"s on the packaging.
Holly: Put a Corx in her, she's done.

. . . and then he played the saxophone for me. Careless Whisper, to be exact. And I sang along ('cause it's kinda what I do). It was magical.


*Do people still say "barf"? If not, I'm totally bringing it back. I think it does a good job of illustrating just how gross the act of vomiting is. Barf. 
**It couldn't be a pregnant pause because I was drunk. Only assholes drink when they're pregnant.

If You Don't Know Me By Now . . .

I came across this note I did on Facebook a few years ago - you know, one of the ones where you have to give 25 random facts about yourself and then tag people for shiggles? I'm confident those little chain "notes" are only useful on Facebook because so many people have friends who they couldn't pick out of a lineup because they don't know them. At all. Not even a little bit. The thing is, I'm SO not one of those people. It totally skeeves me out to think about all these randoms flipping through my personal photos and possibly rubbing one out to a perfectly innocent scene of me and ten of my prettiest girlfriends in skimpy bikinis in the Bahamas. Okay, so that was a really detailed (and slightly conceited . . . and more than slightly dramatic) figment of my imagination, but it could definitely happen. Remember that gross gay I told you about, creepin' on adolescent boys' Facebook pages? You remember, right? With the murse? Well, if HE exists, I'm POSITIVE that there is an equally gross heterosexual who lurks on random women's Facebook pages, dreaming of the day he can fulfill his sexual predator fantasies in some deserted, dark, alley somewhere. No thank you, stranger danger. I would like to very politely "Ignore" your Facebook friend request and continue on with my life in which I have no knowledge of your existence. Thanks.

Wait. Where was I going with that? Oh yeah, the 25 random things. So, I came across this note I did a couple of years ago (even though I know all of my FB friends and they know me), and I thought I would share it with you, my readers. Add this to the short list of "getting to know me" posts I've done. I tried to shorten it to 20 random things, to exclude facts that I have shared with you previously; sorry for any redundancy. I'll post the original list and show any additional comments in white. Enjoy!

20 Random Things About Becks

1. I have this weird obsession with vampires. I love them. I wouldn't mind being one. Not so much the drinking blood part, but the being super sexy and living forever part is pretty cool. Not sure if I would make a good one, though (see #2). I blame Ann Rice and whoever cast Interview With The Vampire. I mean, come on. I also blame L.J. Smith for writing The Vampire Diaries, and making me fall in love with Stefan and Damon when I was 8. No, really. 

2. I'm scared of the dark. Okay, okay. I know this makes me sound like a 5 year old child, but I really am. Not like sleep with a light on scared, like I was until college (you can stop laughing now)...but more like go to sleep with the TV on "sleep" scared. I just feel as though if someone was going to get me, they'd have the best opportunity in the dark. Chalk that up to my overactive imagination. I also had this weird confidence that if I had covers over me, then none of the monsters (or whatever I was scared of - it was actually more likely something realistic like the above-mentioned sexual predator, thank you very much) would be able to get me. Seriously. Stop laughing.

3. I love food. Seriously, I love it. All different kinds of food. I have this weird good food dance that I do when I'm eating something really good. I can't help it. When I'm eating, I think about what I'm going to eat next.

4. I know the words to pretty much every song...in life. Okay, maybe that's a slight over-exaggeration, but I usually at least know the chorus or can hum the melody. I'm probably not the best person to road trip with, unless you don't mind someone singing along (out loud) with every single song on the radio. Think Heartbreak Kid. It's so bad that on one of our extended road trips, the hubs definitely tried to switch to a jazz station, or something of the sort. Luckily for me, they played jazz AND easy listening music . . . with words. Little did he know that the instrumental versions wouldn't have stopped me; I don't actually need the artist's vocals messing up the clarity of my tone. This girl doesn't need back up singers. Nobody puts Becki in a corner! 

5. I sniffle when I'm right, or even when I think I'm right, which is pretty much all the time (sorry, babe). I never noticed this obnoxious habit until a certain special someone pointed it out, and now it drives me to distraction! (Because I'm always right, remember?) I've tried to stop doing it, but it's impossible. Oh well, to know me is to love me. At least I have a wealth of knowledge to bring to the table. No?

6. I LOVE high heels. El-oh-vee-ee. The higher, the better. What's not to love? They make every woman's legs look s-e-x-y. Every woman should own a pair of really nice heels. I wear heels everywhere, to the point where if I walk around in flats too long, my back hurts. Weird, I know. I obviously wrote this before I got old. While I do still love high heels, I now also carry a pair of more sensible, flat shoes for long treks anywhere. Except for when we went to NOLA for my birthday, and my idea of sensible shoes was a pair of gladiator sandals with no arch support. Right.

7. I like to watch movies with the captions on. I've come a long way. I used to watch all television with the captions on, too. I attribute this habit to one of my best friends from college, who watched everything with the captions. It used to annoy me to no end . . . then I got used to it. It was especially helpful back when they still played music on all of the music television networks, and I wanted to keep up with the latest hot songs so I could sing along in the clubs while shaking my tailfeather. I like not missing any dialog. It annoys a lot of people, but I've decided that's because they don't read fast enough to keep up.  

8. My name is Rebecca, and I am a shopoholic. Not a shopoholic like put myself into irreversible debt, shopoholic...but I probably could if I wasn't so practical about money. I love to shop; it doesn't even necessarily matter what for. It's my retail therapy. Shopping is usually the only thing that makes me feel better when I'm down. There's just something about buying something new that lifts my spirits.

9. I partied with Snoop Dogg once in Gainesville. And by partied, I mean that we ______ a lot of ______. Or something to that effect. You fill in the blanks; I can't really remember the details. Shout out to Sigma Epsilon Chi, Spring 2000!! Good times. Don't go looking for our sorority charter or anything - we're a secret organization. Like the Skulls. Membership is very exclusive. All apologies.

10. Since I moved out of my parents' house, I have had a total of 17 roommates. Seriously. I can't even remember all of their names. That has been really over a period of 5 years, because I have lived by myself since 2004. Some of them were godawful. I had this roommate once who used to get in the kitchen and make the stink nastiest creations for her to eat. Thinking about it makes me want to vomit. Another one used to borrow my clothes all the time without asking, and then put them back into my closet without cleaning them. Ugh. She was a major dirty. I have definitely had more roommates since I posted this original note. Well, if you count the hubs as a roommate. I don't, because I wouldn't wash a roommate's dirty underwear. But, whatever.

11. I am obsessed with the Food Network. It's usually the first thing I turn on in the morning. There's just something satisfying about watching it. They always make cool stuff. I heart Paula Deen and Giada deLaurentis. Although I am still obsessed with FN, I told you, I have moved on a bit to Animal Planet. They have some of the coolest programming! I watched some show where this guy lived in the pjs (the projects, for those of you that aren't caught up on your slang) in Harlem, and he had an adult male tiger living with him as a pet. A TIGER. In the projects of Harlem. SWAT had to propel from the roof and shoot tranquilizer darts through the window in order to capture the tiger. I'm not making this stuff up, folks.

12. I can be a pretty obnoxious drunk. I like to talk, but I love to talk when I'm drunk. I try not to let drunk Becca out of her cage, because I usually wake up in the morning with a wicked headache and some sort of embarrassing story. When I'm drunk, I also repeat myself a lot. Whether it's "I have to pee" or "I wanna go home" over and over at the end of the night, it's pretty much going to be repeated about 100 times...incessantly. Can't help it, don't even know I'm doing it.

13. I L-O-V-E the Gators. Gator football is the only sport I truly enjoy watching. I think Tim Tebow is the best. Doesn't everyone? Please don't answer that, husband of mine. I obviously wrote this back when Tim Tebow was walking on water for the Gators. He's gone now. We've got the stats to prove it. But I still love my Gators! This Florida girl bleeds orange and blue.

14. I hate being cold. I've even considered buying myself one of those Snuggies that they're advertising on TV now. Ironically enough, I also hate being hot. Sweating is so not cute. Uh . . . yeah. I definitely now have a Snuggie. To be fair, I didn't buy it for myself; I got it for Christmas from my mom. She also paid a few extra bucks and got me some luxurious micro-fiber version that I actually just use as a blanket. So for all that, I probably could have just purchased another throw. Again, what-ever.

15. I love words. Big ones, weird ones, ones that are fun to say. I have a big vocabulary, and I'm not afraid to use it!

16. I just saw snow fall for the first time last month in Houston (2008). It was awesome. I acted like a little kid, and the hubs got it all on video. Big surprise, lol.

17. I love purple eyeshadow. I read somewhere that purple is the only color in the rainbow that complements every complexion.

18. I don't drink coffee. At all. Hate it, in fact. I've tried it twice in life, once when I was little, and the second time not so long ago. Still hated it. I don't like the smell of it, and it amazes me that people can actually drink it every day. Bleh. I much prefer chai tea or a green tea latte.

19. I can be such a dork. The littlest things amuse me, and I chuckle to myself constantly every day. I also have this habit of talking to myself. I think it has something to do with not having any siblings in the house when I was growing up.

20. I have this aversion to large crowds. I don't like people I don't know touching me, and I have this irrational fear that something bad will happen just as I am in the middle of a large crowd and have no clear escape route. I'm not socially inept. I can be in a large crowd, I just don't necessarily enjoy it.

"Tambo liteh sette mo-jah! Yo! Jambo jambo!"*

As I'm wrapping up my current job before the upcoming move, there's a laundry list of things to get done before my last day, one of which is going through and cleaning out my inbox. Well, in doing so, I came across one of my funnier email exchanges with a friend of mine. I thought that I should share, in the hopes that you appreciate our ridiculously immature sense of humor as much as we do.

To give you a quick back-story, this email chain was inspired by an interesting article that I'd seen on a friend's Facebook page that morning (because every day after my alarm goes off thrice (give me a break - I only allow myself two snooze hits), I roll over, grab the ol' crackberry, and catch up on my social media . . . with one eye open), about the average penis size of every country. Obviously, it piqued my interest.** View the stats for yourself here. You know you want to. I won't judge . . . much.

Anywho, to make a long story longer, I found some of the numbers (specifically the high and low benchmarks) SO interesting, I thought I should pass on the fun-filled facts. My friend T and I chatted about the details over lunch (which resulted in fits of giggles, as per yoojh) . . . and I followed up the conversation with an email, which led to the following email chain (Uh...yeah. You're obviously going to want to click the pics to enlarge. I'm 99.99% sure that it's worth it. Unless your sense of humor sucks. In which case, I'm really not overly concerned with you thinking this is funny, because you very likely don't think anything I have to say is funny, and if that's the case, we should part ways here. Beat it. Now that that's over with, shall we get to the laughs? Thanks.):

 

Hahaha! Gets me every time. Also, I know T mentioned it, but let me again point out the usage of the upper and lower case p's to further indicate the size. What you can't tell from these tiny little thumbnails is that in the original emails, the p's are true scale representations. That's right, folks. I got out my ruler and made sure that the diagrams were accurate. How else would T have a reliable reference point? Anyway, I hope you got as much of a kick out of that as we did. We incidentally both forwarded the chain to our personal email addresses for a rainy day.


*Gold star if you can get the song reference in the title of this post! For those of you wondering, it's not a real language. The singer made it up himself. Promise. So, I figure this line can mean whatever I want it to mean. My prerogative. Another 80's song reference! I'm on a roll. Anyway, the actual title of the song I referenced was just another little tongue-in-cheek tie-in for you other 80's babies and/or trivia lovers.  

**It's not like I'm a big perv or anything, I just thought it was an attention-grabbing topic. It's kind of like the naked African women in National Geographic with the face tats and huge, saggy boobs. You're not turned on by the sight, but it's still interesting. 

The Joys of Peer Reviews

As you know, I currently do triple duty as a devoted employee, wife and student, which can honestly be overwhelming at times . . . but I'm handling it. I think. But if you're ever wondering what the hell is taking me so long to put up a post . . . cut me some slack, okay? Because I'm probably studying. Or doing homework. Or working on a multi-million dollar presentation. Or doing laundry, or dishes . . . or something else equally as glamorous. Don't be jealous. It's a fantastic juggling act, but somebody's gotta do it.

That said, I'm currently taking one of the most pointless classes I could have possibly ever taken, for the simple reason that I need to fulfill some stupid prerequisite. I'm pretty sure that I can probably write circles around these young Texans. (Especially considering the slanted state of their secondary education curriculae . . . did everyone hear about the whole textbook debate debacle last year?! Uh . . . yeah. 'Nuff said. Oh wait, actually - I feel the need to mention that Fox News [conveniently] left out other changes, including the downplayed role of Thomas Jefferson in the proposed textbooks. Right; you heard me. Thomas. Jefferson.) My theory is supported by cold, hard, facts. We have been working to complete our first essay assignment, which is a critical analysis of a short story. The whole process has been rather lengthy, because we first had to submit a rough draft to obtain two peer reviews, and then incorporate those reviews into our final draft. So, I of course waited until the last minute to turn in my rough draft (don't judge; i'm a juggler, remember?), and I'm pretty sure I ended up with the bottom of the barrel of peer reviewers. Don't believe me? In the spirit of asphinctersayswhat, please have a look-see below for a snippet from one of my reviews:  (Unless you have the eyesight of a hawk, you should probably click on the image to enlarge it. Pay special attention to the comment bubbles on the right; my essay really is inconsequential here.)

*blinkblinkblink* ISSHESERIOUS?! I love how she makes all of these gentle suggestions on how I should re-format my perfectly good sentences to better suit her parameters . . . and her parameters are obviously not something I should be concerned with, considering she corrected my possessive "its" to "it's." Yeah, that's right. I apparently need to change my possessive pronoun (even though I was modifying a noun, but whatever) to a contraction. How could I have overlooked such an error? The funny thing is, this is only a snippet of her review. What you're seeing actually happens to be the FOURTH time she corrected me on this glaringly obvious (sarcasm) error. Perhaps I should point her in the direction of my "5 Ways to Avoid Making Silly Mistakes That Might Make You Look Dumber Than You Are." Although, I'm confident that her silly mistakes don't make her look dumber than she is . . . she probably truly is just that dumb. I also like how she suggested that I change a proper noun to a pronoun, when I go on to use about a million pronouns after that sentence. Oh, okay. So I guess it's not that important to identify who "he" is? Got it. I'll make sure to remember that next time. 

Okay, but my favorite part, the one that really took the cake, was the fourth comment she made regarding my usage of the word "than." Hahahaha! I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. What a FANTASTIC explanation she gave (and I quote): "This is tricky, if your using than to describe different persons it is correct. If you would like to show the differences of change from when the story began, you would use then. I think than may cause a little more confusion than then." Ummmm . . . first of all, less confusion for whom? Because I wasn't at all confused, thanks. Second of all, I'm fairly certain that if you don't even recognize the need for the contraction version of the word "you're," I probably shouldn't be taking YOUR grammatical advice. Thirdly, whuck?! What? The? Hell? Is? She? Talking? About? If I'm using "than" to describe different persons? I can't even see what she's saying. Hmmm . . . I guess she was trying to say that "than" is used for comparisons . . . which it is; however, I suppose she failed to recognize that I was CLEARLY making a comparison in that sentence? I don't think "than" is actually the word she has problems with. It sounds like she really needs a clearer understanding of what the word "then" means. 

Yikes. Education, shmeducation. These are your tax dollars hard at work, folks. Let's just say that I'm glad I grew up in the Sunshine State, where Thomas Jefferson is known to be one of the principal authors of the Declaration of Independence; the Civil War was not merely a case of sectionalism, but also mostly about ending slavery; America is still a democratic nation; capitalism still exists, and people know the difference between pronouns, contractions, conjunctions and adverbs.*

*No offense to all my Texas readers out there. Maybe it's an accent thing? Like my co-worker from the panhandle, who insists on referring to her heels as "hills." Yeah . . . on second thought, I'm not convinced that's actually an accent thing. I think she might just be country. She also likes "pre-proportioned" meals, because they're better for you and you eat less. *blinkblinkblink*

Big Girl Trapped in a Skinny Girl's Body

I was flipping mindlessly through Google News today, seeing if anything tickled my pickle for my next post, and I came across this article that piqued my interest. The content doesn't affect me directly, but I thought it was a really interesting read. Topics related to weight problems and body image issues always strike near and dear to my heart, because I have fought a long, arduous battle with my own weight for most of my life. I was never actually obese . . . but I was definitely overweight. My thighs audibly threatened to start a fire everytime I walked, I was uncomfortable in jeans, never sat with my legs crossed all of the way (because let's face it, I couldn't), and trembled with fear at the mere thought of being seen in a swimsuit. My tween and adolescent years were spent being the chubby friend (probably because I grew up in Florida, surrounded by beautiful, blonde, beach bunnies with tiny, size 2 frames crammed into the most adorable daisy dukes and half tops . . . don't judge; I'm a child of the 80's/90's . . . and it was FLORIDA, remember??), longing for the day when I, too, could shop in 5-7-9 (hahaha it just seemed so exclusive, with its size restrictions and all), and prance around in a child-sized bikini without any fear about my jelly rolls scaring anyone away.

So I committed my adolescence and early adulthood to yo-yo and fad dieting, praying for the day when I could shed my chubby duckling shell and transform into the slender swan that I was no doubt meant to be (especially since I have such freakishly skinny wrists and ankles; I never had the luxury of blaming my weight on "big bones"). To me, being heavyset was always such a burden, a plain-and-simple life ruiner. I knew that if I could just shed a few pounds, the problems of my world would be solved! Furthermore, I always swore that when I got skinny, I was going to breeze through life, wearing nothing but a smile and "nobody [was] gonna be able to tell me shit!"

I was wrong. On both counts. Perhaps not so surprisingly, I still wear clothes. Every day. Additionally, I still have problems. I thought that shedding some el bees would be like waving a magic confidence wand that would give me the self-assurance of a supermodel, and make all of my issues disappear. But apparently, it doesn't work like that. Apparently, thirteen years of living under my [annoyingly] skinny parents' roof, constantly being told I "didn't need seconds," or that I needed more exercise and shouldn't eat gravy on my mashed potatoes unfortunately had a lasting effect on me. That, coupled with years of staring in the mirror and being less than thrilled with the freaking fat chick that stole my face looking back at me expectantly (oh yeah, and let's not forget the truly memorable moments, like my eighth grade teacher telling me I had "birthing hips"), resulted in a major doozy of a body image issue (among others, I'm sure).

It's interesting, you hear facts and statistics all the time about obesity in America: 1 in 3 American adults is affected by obesity and every 2 minutes a person in America dies due to weight-related causes. What the statistics don't tell you, however, is just how much obesity and weight problems affect people's psyches, or how those issues get in your head and burrow a deep tunnel to hibernate in and stick around forever. Furthermore, the statistics do not explain how shallow and image-consumed our society is and how not fitting into the classic mold of attractiveness might obliterate a person's self-confidence and self-worth. Did you know that obesity is now considered a disease? Yup, a disease. Now think of all of the side effects and different traumas associated with any other disease that comes to mind. Because to be quite honest, people who suffer from obesity very likely have a lot of the same issues. Obesity isn't always a matter of eating less, or exercising more.

It's really ironic for me now, because people constantly make little comments about my size and how "tiny" I am, or how I need to gain a couple of pounds. If only they knew. I wish it were that simple. But unfortunately, no matter how small I seem to get, when I look in the cursed mirror, that same freaking fat chick is still there. I wish she would hurry up and get the memo that her kind is not wanted around these parts . . . but she never gets the hint. Like the picture below, she's always there, haunting me, reminding me of what I can be again. (Well, not exactly like the picture because I'm brown. But you get the point. Just use your imagination. I wasn't going to get in my skivvies and and take pictures just for the sake of a post. (a) because I'm a lady, for pete's sake, and (b) BECAUSE I HAVE BODY IMAGE ISSUES. Aren't you paying attention?? I guarantee that the me in your imagination looks way better than the real-life me, anyway.)

Source

 So, after 5 paragraphs of self-indulgent oversharing, I'll get to the point . . . hmmm . . . this is slightly embarrassing. It appears that really there was no point, besides the fact that I found the abovementioned article interesting. So I'll leave you with these little nuggets of wisdom:  if you are one of the lucky few that do not have or have never had problems with your weight, you should thank God, Buddha, Allah, or even just your plain old lucky stars, because you are the minority. Obesity has become an epidemic in our country and it's not going away any time soon. So, do your part. Eat right, get active, stay fit, and live and enjoy life as long as possible (so you can keep reading my blog). We aren't leasing these bodies; we're in it for the long haul. What you see is what you get, so make sure you do right by yourself . . . and if that doesn't make you happy . . . maybe you should go see a therapist.* Don't be scared; everybody's doing it. Hell, even if you think you're happy, you should go see a therapist. Believe me, there's definitely something wrong with you. You just haven't discovered it yet. xo

*If the therapist trick still doesn't work, I would recommend a psychiatrist. Even if talking to one doesn't make you happy, at least they can write you prescriptions for drugs that very likely will. So, there's that.

A Rent-a-Center Stock Room, Hairy Knuckles, and a Runaway Jury.

I thought that since I've been so spotty with my posts lately, I should do my due diligence and give you another tidbit for the day. How's about a little afternoon delight? While getting my daily internet news fix, I came across this article about a St. Louis woman who was recently awarded what could possibly be the largest payout ever granted in a sexual harassment case. To the tune of a whopping $95 million!!! For those of you less than enthused over your afternoon reading assignment, this quote from www.nydailynews.com pretty much sums it all up in a nutshell. I boldfaced the key points for your convenience. Listen, I do what I can.

"Alford claimed that the store's then-manager, Richard Moore*, gave her inappropriate nicknames and touched her inappropriately when she first began working there in 2005. Nearly a year after she was hired, she claimed, he came up to her in the stock room and whacked her on the head with his penis. Then, later that day, he lifted her shirt and masturbated over her as he held her down, she said."


Uh . . . okay. I obviously have a lot to say about this. So . . . the inappropriate nicknames and touching wasn't enough of a red flag? You would think she would have started looking for a different job, instead of hanging around for almost a year after her manager touched her in her no-no spot. No? That aside, how exactly do you think he managed to "whack her on the head with his penis"? Is he a giant? Is she some sort of Lilliputian midget? Does he just have an abnormally loooooooong penis that he just unrolls and slings around all willy nilly, face-thumping people whenever he needs some sexual healing (if so, he must be from the Congo)? But that's not even the most intriguing part of the story. What really got me was the last sentence: "then, later that day, he lifted her shirt and masturbated over her as he held her down, she said." Later that day? So, you mean to tell me that she actually stuck around after catching a dick to the head? That wasn't enough for her to walk out? Instead, she hung out, talking people with bad credit and empty bank accounts into renting furniture and appliances, oblivious to the fact that her genitals-wielding manager was lurking in a back corner, waiting to pin her down and blow his load all over her?

Something about this sounds a bit fishy to me. Methinks we're not getting the whole story, here. Not to take sides with a sexual predator or anything, but unless Richard Moore is ambidextrous with the strength of at least five adult males . . . I honestly don't see how things could have gone down as reported. The details are a little fuzzy. Was it a run-by sploogeing? Oh, wait. It couldn't have been, because he held her down. I don't understand! How could he lift her shirt, hold her down and masturbate to the point of climax all at the same time? Sheesh, that guy is talented. I think he's in the wrong industry, leasing analog televisions to the poor. Taking into consideration his meter stick of a penis,** his ambidexterity, and his profound ability to multitask, it sounds to me like ol' [Long] Dick Moore could give Ron Jeremy a run for his money . . . and if you think for a moment that the irony of his name escaped me, you don't know me very well. Richard Moore? Dick Moore? Moore, Dick. Yeah . . . add this guy to the growing list of men whose parents groomed them to be perverts with piss poor name choices. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love alliteration?)

That said, I feel obligated to admit that I would probably withstand getting thunked in the head by pretty much any body part for $95 million. Hell, I'd even settle for the measly $40 million that she will probably end up receiving after all is said and done. I think there's a lesson to be learned here, folks: getting teabagged while trying to do your job isn't so bad if you end up with a $95 million check. Even if you had to take a pearl necklace for the team.

__________________________________________________________________________________

*This story is especially funny because the offender in question just so happens to share a government name with a certain rotund, wall-hugging, weeble wobble of an Executive Hall Monitor VP (with hoity-toity, high-class, fancy pants problems, no less) that I happen to know. In fact, I'm pretty sure that name was the first thing that drew my eye to the article. Well, besides the obvious key words - masturbated, $95 million and genitals. I'm curious about the flagrant fondler's current employment status. Surely he couldn't have left his cushy job selling previously owned merchandise for a lowly Executive VP position in a prosperous corporation, right?! No way it's the same guy. The one I know is WAY too short to have a jungle-man's penis long enough to thunk a  grown ass woman in the head. But it's funny to imagine that they are one and the same. Pretty sure our RM prefers kitty cats, though. Oh well, I digress. That was some good stuff, eh? Nothing like an entertaining story about gennies to get your day going right; that's what I say!


**I really used the word "penis" a lot in this post. It's reminiscent of last week, when I couldn't keep Weiner out of my mouth. Hahaha pun obviously intended. That was the last reference I'll make. For real this time. But seriously, if I make any more references to the male genitalia, you guys are going to think I have some sort of misguided genital obsession. I don't. But I apparently have the maturity of a twelve year old boy, so I giggle at words like "weiner" and "penis." I like to say "penis" like "pen-iss" sometimes, just to be fancy. Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, that's right. I'm fancy. 

Love Notes, Revisited

Ho hum. I just can't seem to shake the post-birthday blues. Hopefully this won't last too long. Don't worry, until it blows over, I'm avoiding country music, razor blades and the roof. This too, shall pass. Ha! Moving on - I hardly had enough personality to blog today. Luckily I have such an overabundance of personality, that there's still a tiny bit left. Definitely enough to share this random funny. I mean, personality or not, I like to laugh. Thanks to @sarahsilverman for bringing it to my attention!

Remember when we talked about the fun to be had with writing angry letters? They probably don't ever accomplish anything besides giving the recipient (who is typically a douche nozzle) a good laugh (and maybe getting some random complimentary bullshit in hopes of retaining your business), but they sure as hell make you feel a lot better, amiright? If something or someone pisses me off, the only way I can move on (after obsessing about it for hours, undoubtedly) is if someone gets a piece of my mind. Especially if it was a business-oriented offense, where I was expecting some sort of service and all I got was a huge disservice. Well, here is a classic example of an angry letter that just had me in stitches. I love people like this. Eugene Mirman and I are definitely kindred spirits. Don't hold back! Tell it like it is! Assert your obviously superior intelligence while emphasizing the offender's lack thereof. But you can't be all-out nasty when writing business-related hate mail. Nope, people with class wage war on intelligence and the un-met expectation of good service (in most cases; there are definitely some exceptions where nothing will do besides a good, rousing, F bomb).* No, I will most certainly NOT give crib notes for this one. Read it! Thank me afterwards.

Source

...and that, my lovelies, is how you write a business-related nastygram. Hahahaha! Loves it!
____________________________________________________________________________________
*I don't have anything against the "F" word. Hell, I use it every day and I'm still a fucking lady.  

Whatever LOLA wants, LOLA gets...

I would say Happy Hump Day, but mine has been less than stellar this morning and it's not so happy. So I'm just gonna skip the typical chipper greeting and get right to it. Does anyone else watch Law and Order: Los Angeles (LOLA)?? I apparently caught the Law and Order bug sometime around my freshman year of college. I think I liked it so much because it was ALWAYS on! I could wake up and watch it on TNT, and then it would be on USA all day long. I can't even tell you how many L&O marathons I've had whilst laying in bed (when I should have been in class), munching on some sort of tasty snack (yes, I am one of those people whose guilty pleasure (among other things) is eating in bed). So, needless to say, I was delighted when good ol' dependable Dick Wolf (What a name! If he were American-Indian, I'd like to think his name would be reversed to Wolf Dick. Hehehe 'cause it makes me giggle.) came through with yet another addition to the L&O family (although I've heard that [not so] sadly, LOLA didn't make the cut and will not be renewed for a second season). So, I of course set my dvr to record the entire season.

HOWEVER, last night, I tuned into the newest episode and I was pissed. LOLA committed a huge faux pas and now I don't know if I can continue to watch it. I hate it when shows/networks do things like replace an actor who plays a major character (they do it most often on soap operas, I think) without warning, or have one actor make two different guest appearances as different characters (which actually does happen sometimes on L&O, but it's hard to call because there are so many of them, you can't remember which L&O the actor was on), or change major parts of the storyline because they don't do their research on archived episodes. The most blatant offense I've witnessed to date was an extremely old episode from the first season of 90210 where Donna Martin's mother was named Nancy and was played by a different actress than the woman who played her mother for the remaining duration of the series...oh yeah, and her name was Felice. Everybody knows Donna's mom's name was Felice, right??!? Well, I'm not making this up. Apparently, Donna's sweet mom Nancy's soul was eaten by this imposter Felice after Season One and nobody noticed (except me). Super convenient. But I digress. Back to LOLA.

So I watched Monday night's episode, "Plummer Park," which my Uverse® info swears first aired on 05/30/2011 . . . and Skeet Ulrich was on it. *blink blink blink* For those of you who do watch, I'm sure you can understand my confusion (spoiler alert!). Yeah, that's right. Confusion. Because Skeet Ulrich's character, Detective Rex Winters, was killed off by a Mexican druglord in the first post-hiatus episode, "Zuma Canyon," which aired on 04/11/2011. Who does that?!? Ugh. Additionally, instead of Connie Rubirosa, it was that less talented ADA, ol' whatever her name is. *SIGH* To my chagrin, this episode was obviously aired out of sequence, which I personally think was an unforgiveable oversight. All that says to me is that instead of being concerned with the quality of their programming, the producers were more interested in making their post-hiatus premiere "sexy" with the death of one of the two good looking men on the show main characters (not to mention the only other actor besides Terence Howard that any of us really gave a crap about). Epic fail. Good job, NBC. Way to ostracize one of the ten loyal viewers you had left. No wonder this poor excuse for a L&O spinoff is getting cancelled.

Well, this blog (again) turned out to be a lot longer than expected. So, I will bid you [and LOLA] adieu. Hopefully my day will improve and with it, my mood. But no promises. Love ya, mean it.

Becks' Favorite Things

I had a bit of an epiphany this morning. I realized that I spend a good majority of my time on my blog bitching about my dislikes and pet peeves and things I hate. In honor of Oprah's last show, maybe it's about time to give you some insight into the things that make me happy. I'm going to start with baby steps and just give you a little peek into some of the things I almost can't live without...maybe you'll find some stuff that piques your interest. Without further ado...

...these are a few of my favorite things...

(Don't worry, my list consists of much more substantial shit than raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.)



Gadgets

Like most women, I'm not all that big on gadgets. (Okay, that was a gross generalization, but most of the women I know would much rather spend their money on clothes and shoes than gadgets. That's what men are for.) That said, there ARE a few that I would be lost without. Starting from top, then clockwise:

(1) Original Chi flat iron - Call me old school, but I'm still using the original chi. I'm not quite sure how I lived without it. But my hair and my ego both thank Farrouk (and fun Kristie for letting me in on the secret years ago).

(2) Kindle 3G - A bookworm's dream!! This is by far the best gift I've ever received. An endless library of books at my fingertips? Yes, please.

(3) Scrabble app for Kindle - (Not sure if this can be considered a gadget...but it's my blog and I say it does. End of story.) I don't know if you know this about me, but I love words. Big ones, small ones, bad ones, silly ones. Thus, Scrabble is probably one of my all-time favorite games. The convenience of having it on my Kindle never ceases to amaze me. It's very satisfactory to beat the computer. I'm not bragging, but my stats are pretty great.

(4) Blackberry Bold - WHAT DID I EVER DO WITHOUT A SMARTPHONE? Enough said. I like mine the best because of the leather back. It's classy.

(5) Motorola T325 Bluetooth In-Car Speakerphone - Another great gift from the hubs! Alas, my car didn't come with the bluetooth for my phone and my car is pretty much the place I do the most chatting. This little gem is the perfect solution! It works just like the handsfree in most cars and even offers voice command dialing. Score.

Snacks n' Shit

Okay, okay. These aren't all snacks. Hence the "n' shit." But these are some foodstuffs that make me happy.

(1) Haribo Gold Bears - Hands down the best gummy bears EVER. Trust me. Gummies are my favorite candy and I've pretty much tried them all. This brand smokes all the others. They rate perfect on the chewy, fruity scale. Get some. They're delish.

(2) Ketel One Vodka - I totally used to be a Grey Goose girl. I mean, rappers used to write songs about it; it must be good. But then I did a blind shot taste test...and Ketel really is just better. It has a smooth, sweet finish that is music to any martini's ears. If you haven't already tried it, please do. I'm spreading the news.

(3) Truffle Oil - Quite possibly the most decadent type of oil, this stuff is amazing. I'm convinced it was sent to us from the gods (who dined on nectar, ambrosia and truffles, as far as I'm concerned). I had my first experience with the truffle fries at Maison Dupuy in New Orleans and I was hooked. Try drizzling some of this amazing indulgence in a bottle on french fries or macaroni and cheese (I think it goes best with gruyere mac and cheese, personally). You'll want to dive into a pool of it, roll around and stay awhile. Do it. This rates right up there with Nutella and Limoncello.

(4) Caramel Apple Sugar Babies - You might lose a tooth eating these, but I promise it's worth it. These chewy delights are limited edition and tough to find, but keep an eye out around Halloween. They seriously taste like a caramel apple and it's a party in your mouth. (TWSS?) They also have them sometimes at Cracker Barrel.

(5) Don Julio Blanco - The hubs and I did a tequila tour, where we tried different brands to determine which we liked best. This is probably my favorite tequila to shoot. Super clean finish and no scrunchface at the end. You can barely taste it (which could be dangerous)!

(6) True North Pistachio Crisps - I love all things pistachio. Pistachio pudding, pistachio cake, pistachio icing, pistachio ice cream, plain ol' salty pistachios...I could go on. But these little crispy wafer thingies with the bits of pistachios are a winner, winner, chicken dinner in my humble opinion. This brand is a little uppity and can be difficult to find but you can likely find these in any hoity toity grocery store. It's worth the trek out to the 'burbs for these little salty snackeroos.

Tunes

I love music. All genres. I think music is the perfect cure-all. There's something to suit every mood and songs can even trigger memories (good or bad) and transport you back to the exact moment you filed that song in the memory bank. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have a tiny DJ in my head with super eclectic taste in music that keeps me bobbing my head to some beat every second of every day. My love for music probably came from my years slaving away at the piano...but either way...Loves it! I have such an affinity for such a wide variety of music, it's damn near impossible to pinpoint my favorite albums...but here are several of them (in no particular order). In the interest of time, I had to cut myself off; I could seriously go on forever.

(1) Kanye West - My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy - Uh...SO good. It was a relief to have the old Kanye back. I'm still pissed about 808's and Heartbreak. Welcome back, 'Ye. You were missed.

(2) Nina Simone - Ze Best - Simply put, I heart Nina Simone. She sang of a time of oppression and pain and overcoming obstacles. Total class act. Don't be surprised if one of my children ends up named Nina. I've been coveting that name for years.

(3) Coldplay - Parachutes - "'Know how I know you're gay?' 'How?' 'You like Coldplay.'" Gay or not, I love me some Chris Martin. That voice! It's so haunting and I love it. This cd is one of my all-time faves. Perfect cd to zone out to.

(4) Jay-Z - The Blueprint - Sick album. Period. I've loved Jigga since Reasonable Doubt...but this cd really did it for me. That love ballad (haha) with Eminem, "Renegade"? Ridiculous.

(5) N.E.R.D. - In Search Of... - The song "Lapdance" will never get old for me. Ever. The DJ in my head keeps it on heavy rotation. What a great theme song.

(6) Erykah Badu - Baduizm - All-time Favorite. Her voice is SO soulful and rich. Her concert was actually one of the best I've ever been to, also.

(7) Devin the Dude - Waiting to Inhale - I heart Devin. He's a rapper after my own heart. Pretty much all he raps about is smoking weed...but what's wrong with that? I've been hooked since "Doobie Ashtray."

(8) Nirvana - Nevermind - Come. On. Classic!

(9) T.I. - Trap Muzik - The best T.I. album is debatable, but this is my personal fave. I love most things T.I., but this album was (and still is) the shit.

(10) 2Pac - All Eyez on Me - Okay. I LOVE TUPAC. Always have; always will. I'm a sucker for a sexy guy with a bald head and Tupac did not disappoint. I loved that he was so deep and poetic. I know he's dead (and what a shame), but this album will never die.

(11) Outkast - ATLiens - This might be the best overall album ever. I'm just saying. These guys are spittin' knowledge at you and you don't even know it because of the dope beats and the twang. Well, let me tell you - I've owned at least 5 copies of this album and they've all been stolen. That's saying a lot.

(12) Jay-Z - The Blueprint 3 - Maybe I'm being a bit redundant, but I loved this album from front to back. I can't say that about a lot of albums. Venus vs. Mars is my track. Who am I kidding? I love them all.

(13) N.E.R.D. - Seeing Sounds - Pharell wasn't kidding. This album made me really see where he was going with his beats. This one stays in heavy rotation, too.

(14) John Mayer - Where the Light Is - I don't typically love live albums, but this one is a killer because it's just an amazing compilation. Two thumbs up.

(15) Juvenile - 400 Degreez - Another classic. Any hot girl/boy from the south would agree. This cd was the joint when it came out. Still is, in my humble opinion.

(16) Adele - 21 - I am currently obsessed with this cd. Adele's voice is retarded amazing and it seriously gets in your head. I recently posted on Facebook that driving while listening to this album is detrimental to my health because I always want to close my eyes and get lost in the music. I wasn't exaggerating.

(17) Kanye West - Late Registration - Another all-time favorite. Hands down my favorite Kanye cd. This album was one of the first "just because" gifts the hubs ever gave me when we were dating. I loved it so much, I put all the homies on it. This cd will always remind me of some of the best times of my life. Thanks, Kanye. You're not so bad, after all.

**(18) Imogen Heap - Speak for Yourself - Okay, I neglected to add a pic of this album...but it's uh-mazing. The clarity in her voice is out of control. Hers was another one of the best concerts I've attended. She actually sounds that good in real life, too.  

Beauty Products

Now that I have your attention, I'll close with the beauty essentials in my life. These are the things I el-oh-vee-ee...

(1) Blowdryer Comb Nozzle Attachment - This is the newest addition to my beauty essentials. Gets your hair stupid straight and sleek. Not sure if they're available for retail purchase, but if you know a stylist - they can probably order it for you.

(2) Gucci Perfume - The original. This stuff smells so good I want to gobble myself up. The only downfall is that it's lasting power is kind of subpar. But it's worth it to smell like heaven, even if just for a few hours.

(3) Fantasia IC Hair Polisher Heat Protector Straightening Serum - This stuff is, simply put, the BOMB. It makes your hair feel all silky smooth and adds a nice shine without weighing it down. It smells yummy and has the added bonus of protecting your hair from all of the harsh heat of blowdrying and flat ironing. (Thanks AGAIN, fun Kristie)

(4) Dr. Scholl's Insteps for High Heels - Are you gellin'? If not, you should be. These things are a Godsend for girls like me who insist on punishing their feet with 4"+ heels. Ladies, if you haven't already, buy some. Right meow, please.* Thank me later.

(5) Pedi-Egg - This is the perfect solution to keeping your feet soft and supple (Giggle. Words that end in "pple" make me laugh.). Use this little wonder after showers and you'll notice an immediate difference. Promise.

(6) Kiwi Color Reflector Deep Treat Masque - I don't even have color in my hair, but I swear by this conditioner. I use it with every wash and it leaves my hair soooo soft and silky. This stuff is seriously amazing. I found it at TJMaxx once for $5 (!) and I bought 5 of them. Just because. That just goes to show how much I love it.

(7) MAC Studio Fix - Best compact ever! I love it because it can be brushed on for lighter coverage, or you can use a sponge for heavier coverage. Good stuff.

(8) NARS Lip Gloss in Striptease - I have looked high and low for the perfect nude gloss. This is it. I think I'm in love.

...and thus concludes this episode of Becks' favorite things. Do you feel like you know me better? At the very least, I've introduced you to some things that you just might want to give a whirl, right? Then my job here is done. Besides, this turned into a novel of epic proportions and I really only did it because I thought it would be quick and mindless. I was so wrong. But see - I'm not all thorns and razorblades. I like some things...I just also happen to dislike just as many things. I'm going to try to post something more substantial in a bit, but no promises. I'm headed to NOLA in the morning to laissez les bon temps rouler!!  

Message in a Bottle

Have you ever been so pissed off by some random person's thoughtless and inconsiderate actions that you wanted to write a nasty note? Sure you have. For instance, there is one particular inconsiderate jerk off that parks in the garage at work in such a way that his extra-special Rav4 or whatever shit he drives is taking up TWO primo pieces of parking garage real estate. Really?! I mean, the obnoxious sense of entitlement there is just astounding. No joke, when I pull up the ramp in the garage in the morning and I see his hunk of junk taking up an ENTIRE CORNER of the parking garage, my blood boils. Nobody likes seeing the inevitable dings in their door when they walk up to their car. Trust me; I know. I sometimes think that the people parked next to me must have tried to hit my door. I mean, how else do you really ding a car door to the point that the paint is gone all the way down to the primer? Ugh. But even still, I refrain from such blatantly obnoxious action as parallel parking my car across three spots to avoid the dings. One morning, the sight of his ridiculous SUV set me off so badly that I was rummaging madly through my suitcase of a purse, trying to find some scrap of paper to really tell him about himself. But alas, no paper. Just my luck. Well, I had a receipt, but it was a credit card receipt. I'm not against leaving a note, but to sign it with my full government name so the Rav4 owner can hunt me down and terrorize me? Yeah, not happening.

Anyway, my co-worker was called on an unexpected business trip the other day and had to rush to the airport. Apparently all of the spots in the garage were full and she saw everyone around her creating makeshift parking spots, so she decided to do the same. It was only a day trip, after all; she would only be gone for a few hours. So she parked her car as best she could, in her opinion leaving ample room for the surrounding cars to still navigate their way out if need be. Well, upon her return, imagine her surprise when she found this little love note waiting for her on her windshield:



Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! This note seriously made my day. I told her that I needed to make a copy and keep it in my purse so I could place it lovingly on the windshield of my garage nemesis' car the next time he pulled his douchebag move. I'm pretty sure this is the best nastygram ever. At least that I've seen thus far. I feel as though the author did a very good job of expressing their frustration and anger. Note the usage of the capital "F" and "A" for emphasis. Genius. To the author of this delightful little morsel of hilarity, I say this:

Dear Parking-Garage-Love-Note-Writer,

I salute you. Sure, my co-worker did nothing but laugh at the content of your note(and bring it into the office for show and tell)...buuuuuuuut I bet it made YOU feel better, now didn't it? And really, isn't that all that matters? Here's to standing up for yourself (albeit anonymously) and for inspiring me to put a pack of Post-It® Notes in my purse so I too, can help to rid the world of inconsiderate pricks, one hateful nastygram at a time. Thanks, guy.

Becks 

Happily Ever After

Okay, so I promised you some sort of post regarding the Royal Wedding and all of its fashion glory. I know I'm a little late, but better late than never. My impression can pretty much be summed up by one photograph:

Hahahahaha! Joan Rivers, I am not. Happy Friday, folks!

Fun with Nicknames

Happy Hump Day, kiddos! I’m not sure if anyone else takes note of the Google doodles on the Google homepage every day, but a couple of days ago, Google posted a series of different doodles inspired by the Hargreaves Mr. Men and Little Miss characters in honor of Hargreaves’ 76^th birthday. 

These were some of my favorite doodles, because I love those characters! (Side note: have you seen today’s Google art? Man. They really outdid themselves with that one. If you haven’t already, you should definitely check it out. I was impressed.) One thing about me that you may not know is that I love nicknames. Pretty much everyone in my life (especially the important peeps) has some sort of a nickname. The Little Miss characters hit especially close to home because a few years ago, I worked at a well-known mortgage company that shall remain nameless (good riddance), and two of my good friends and I (Think along the lines of the office Mean Girls crew. My life soundtrack always skipped straight to Milkshake when we walked through the office. Don’t judge. You would want to eat with us at lunch, too. Trust me. We were funny. Still are.) decided that we all needed Little Miss nicknames. Missy was Little Miss Bossy, Mokel was Little Miss Chatterbox and I was Little Miss Trouble. Fitting, right? It’s interesting how you somehow at least one Hargreaves character is the perfect illustration of someone’s personality. At my current job, my co-worker clique already has code names for everyone else. How else can we talk about them freely without fear of repercussions? Good ol’ Marcy put together a diagram so everyone could keep track of all of the nicknames and avoid confusion. Click to view the details of the diagram.

Everyone’s name came about for some sort of reason. For example, Dump Truck was so named because of this instant message conversation:

So, anyway, the recent Hargreaves characters inspired me to try to determine which character best suited all of our ridiculous characters at work. I’ll have to report back with the details. In the meantime, which Hargreaves character are you, and why? See below for a list of characters to choose from, or click here to take the quiz. I’d love to hear back from you! This can be my first official interactive blog. Fun!

Please excuse the brevity of my last two posts. I am currently playing the avoidance game with my final but alas, I have procrastinated until the very last minute and have to take the dreaded test tonight. I should be back to normal by tomorrow. Promise.

All Google Doodles courtesy of Google

Mr. Men & Little Miss Poster image courtesy of this site

Diagram courtesy of Marcy Magoo

Thanks to Kelis for Milkshake - still a great song and yes, still part of my soundtrack.

fridaze funk

i woke up this morning in a funk. i can't seem to get it together - which could be attributed to any number of things, honestly. but i have no energy and can't seem to focus on much of anything. what better time for a blog? i definitely do not have my wits about me enough to put together an intelligent post, so i'll start the day with a few random pet peeves. i'm boycotting capitalization today, too. deal with it.

i hate it when i am at the elevator and i have already pushed the button...and then some dummy saunters up behind me and pushes the button again, EVEN THOUGH the button is obviously already illuminated. not just once, but repeatedly. as if pressing that damn button is going to somehow magically cause the elevator to skip all of the other floors that have already pushed their button and come barreling straight down to us because some asshole won't stop pushing the call button. yeah. 'cause that happens all the time.

i hate it when i do my good deed for the day and let someone into line in front of me in traffic and they don't wave. listen, i didn't have to let you in. i did because i'm not a jerk. so don't swing on in here like you were entitled to my place in line. you weren't. quit being a dick and wave. have some couth.

i hate it when people don't know how to give constructive criticism. telling me you don't like something and then not being able to articulate why is super annoying. oh, ok. so you don't have any suggestions for improvement; you just don't like it? duly noted. you could have kept that to yourself.

i hate it when i have a typo, but my typo changes the intended word into another existing word, so spell check doesn't catch it. hug pet peeve (exhibit a).

i hate it when i find the perfect item of clothing on unbelievable discount online and they no longer have my size. it's just not fair.

i hate it when people change their Facebook profile pics to those cheesy self-portraits of them holding up the phone in the bathroom, or in front of the refrigerator, because they just had to share how fabulous their ass looks in a tight little skirt, or how amazing their new fake boobs look in their bikini, or how they're racking up 12-pack abs. if the goods are that fabulous and you are that vain, perhaps you should invest in a tripod for your camera so you can take all of the self-portraits you want without looking like a total loser. everyone is guilty of taking a self-portrait or two, but it's so much more gratuitous when it's to solicit parts of your body that you should perhaps keep to yourself. or at least, would keep to yourself if you had any class. additionally, how many self-portraits is it truly acceptable to have without looking like a jackass? everyone should love themselves. it's rude to expect everyone else to love you that much.

i hate close-talkers. you know the ones. the people who stand uncomfortably close when you're trying to have a normal conversation and then you can't even concentrate and you lose your train of thought because all you can think about is how said close-talker totally just popped your personal bubble and everytime you try to take a subtle step back, they take a not-so-subtle step forward. we really only need to be semi-close if i'm telling you a juicy secret, or catching you up on the latest chisme. otherwise, you should keep a respectful distance. you don't need to sit on my lap to hear me talk. i'm very good at projecting. if you can't hear me - i'll speak up.

i hate paper clips. especially the useless ones that are coated in colored paint that leaves marks on your paper when you remove them. there's just no need for paper clips when there's such a thing as gem clips and binder clips. let's start a movement to render them obsolete. they can join the ranks of typewriters and dial-up internet connections.

i hate it when people shoulder check me out in public and don't excuse themselves. oh, ok. so not only could you not be bothered to shift your body half a step so as to avoid bumping into me, but you also can't be bothered to excuse yourself? you suck. at life.

that said, wanna know what i do like? fridays! so...happy friday to you! hopefully i'll snap out of this fog and have something more substantial to contribute later.

Yelp Nazi? Geh weg! Ihre Art ist unerwünscht sind.

Buenos dias! Feliz Cinco de Mayo, folks! Hopefully everybody has some fun plans tonight to drink too much tequila and/or Dos Equis. ("We're going streaking!") If you're planning on doing tequila shots, I highly recommend Don Julio. Goes down like a dream (TWSS). I would also recommend getting a designated driver or a cab. DUIs don't look good on anyone.

Moving right along, let me get crack-a-lackin' on today's post. I joined Yelp several months back just for shiggles. Funny thing is, I think I've written a total of three whopping reviews. What's even more interesting is in those three reviews, I already had a little run-in with someone on Yelp that really soured the experience for me. Do I manage to piss people off randomly with everything I do? That's gotta be some kind of talent. So anyway, correct me if I'm wrong, but Yelp is a lot like this blog - an opportunity for people to honestly express their opinion about things...right? Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

Well, I happened to post a review about a less than stellar experience I had at a local eatery in the Heights, talking candidly about the terrible service and shitty attitude of the cashier. I personally thought it was kind of funny (not to mention helpful and informative), but whatever. (You can read the review in its entirety here, if you so wish.) To my surprise, the next day, I had a message in my inbox from Emily Z, who in my opinion must either be the owner of this place, the abovementioned cashier with the shitty attitude and perma-stink-eye, or some random cheesehound groupie chick who considers herself to be a foodie and is probably sleeping with the owner for free skillets of sub par mac and cheese. See below for the maddening morsel:

...wait, what? Did she seriously just tell me to re-think my review? Trust me, I thought about it plenty in the 3 months it took me to finally join Yelp just so I could write a bad review about this pointless restaurant. But thanks for your concern. I didn't realize that there was a Yelp content Nazi who sat around, reading all of the reviews of the day, and inboxing contributers with suggestions on improving their posts opinions. It's almost like she's threatening me! "Really, I would re-think your review." Ok, let me get this straight. YOU would rethink MY review? It sounds as though you already have. Maybe YOU should rethink YOUR review. How about that? Or better yet, here's a thought: instead of spending so much time and energy making sure I know that YOU don't approve of MY review, how about you just move on with your life? Write your own reviews! I don't recall asking for anyone to review my review. It's my opinion. If you don't like it; piss off. I know I'm not taking your message "serious" because you don't know when to use pronouns appropriately. Furthermore, you must have taken my review pretty seriously if you felt the need to send me a personal message, telling me to rethink my opinion.

Hey, Emily Z - get back to your über important job of slingin' plates of macaroni and cheese and mind your business. You're probably hovering over the lunch counter right now, pointing your gnarled, warty finger at any customer who (heaven forbid) wants to substitute ingredients in their order of jus' crap; yelling and going on about how THERE ARE NO SUBSTITUTIONS and how they should seriously rethink their order or "no soup mac for you!" Meanwhile, I'll be over here - NOT rethinking my review. But thanks for your input.

The Soup Nazi
Tags: The Soup Nazi

A Thin Line Between Love and Face Planting

I decided that since I already gave you a list of some of my neuroses, I may as well keep with today's theme of telling you various embarrassing endearing details about myself. We'll call today Humbling Hump Day.

So, you may or may not know this about me, but I'm pretty clumsy. You'd think that a girl who practically lives in 4 inch heels would be limber and light on her toes...but I'm not. I'm actually like a graceful bull in a china shop. I often wake up with random, inexplicable, bruises that I can never quite figure out. It looks a little bit like my good ol' hubs uses my thighs for punching bags. Hmmm, that's a thought. Maybe he does. At night. When I'm unsuspectingly sleeping like an angel beside him. That would explain a lot...but I doubt it. I think I'm just clumsy.

Beyond my clumsiness is my love-hate relationship with stairs. Actually, if I'm honest...it's really more of a combative relationship. I hate stairs...and they hate me. In the almost thirty years that I have been alive, I have fallen down flights of stairs several times. Maybe even more than several. Whatever that would be quantified as. Let's see...I'm gonna say maybe somewhere between 8-10 times. No joke. A few of those times were down the same flight of stairs, so I'm not sure if those count...but I often find myself grabbing frantically for the banister as my life flashes before my eyes. Hell, I've even tripped and fallen while going up a flight of stairs. I'm just talented like that.

The first time I ever fell down a flight of stairs was at Club Park Avenue (us regulars called it CPA) in Tallahassee (RIP). This used to be the spot. In fact, it eventually was shut down by the fire marshall for going way over capacity (and underage drinking, most likely). So, needless to say, this place was always packed. My friends and I knew the bartender so we used to double fist LITs all night long. Did I mention that CPA had two flights of stairs: one in the front, one in the back? Right. Two. I fell down each of those flights of stairs at least 2-3 times apiece. I'm happy to report that I managed to never spill a drink, though. Priorities! When you're 19 and drinking illegally, apparently saving your cocktail from its demise is much more important than preventing yourself from tumbling down a flight of stairs to your death. Go figure.

Another time was when I was on vacation with my good friend [at the time] and we got this cool hotel room that had a loft-type setup with a bedroom upstairs. Why would we do such a thing? Yeah. My ass definitely made contact with those stairs. It wasn't pretty. I had a pretty good momentum going and my feet slipped out from underneath me and I catapulted down the stairs so fast that the wall had to stop me. Picture me, sitting against the wall with a surprised look on my face, feelin' all embarrassed and butt hurt (in more ways than one). She had a great laugh over that one, believe me.

Perhaps the worst time was about six years ago on Thanksgiving Day when I was rushing out of my apartment to head to the 'rents house for some turkey and fixins. That's right - rushing. We all know I had no business doing that in heels. So...yeah. Cue frightening tumble down the stairs. This one was the worst because I actually went head first...and these stairs were concrete (and really steep!). My life definitely flashed before my eyes. But I had the wherewithall to actually grab the poles in the railing and use my momentum to propel myself in the opposite direction (practially ripping my shoulder from the socket in the process), and I turned my body to where I was able to save myself from an untimely demise. Before you laugh, I twisted my ankle! Seriously. Like, legit twisted it. It was swollen and I walked with a pimp limp. My whole family took great pleasure in teasing me mercilessly all day until I finally gave up and went home to pout...in my heels.

I'll leave you with a visual. I'm pretty sure that this girl can totally empathize with my hate-hate relationship with stairs. To quote Aaliyah, "If at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again." Happy Humbling Hump Day, folks!