Commentary This, You Say? Commentary This, I Shall, I Say.*

I am still quasi-personality-less this evening, as I have yet to recover from my brush with death sickness; however, I received this little teaser from my Aggie friend, Taryn (C/W), and couldn’t resist:

The link led me to a gallery of photos documenting the Lady Ags’ postseason stint. There were so many great action shots, showing those women powering through the Tournament…and there were so many great action shots that were just begging for captions.**

…Do I smell a challenge? I accept, my good friend! T, this one’s for you. (You’re my boy, Blue!) I’ll try to keep it to one caption per picture so this post doesn’t get any longer than it’s already destined to be…and heeeeere we go…



  

…I’m pretty sure she chose the blue pill.

That’s one small step for [wo]man; one giant leap for McNeese State...but yet, still not good enough. A for effort?

"Back up off me! I go hard in the paint and a gigantic knee brace to the gennies is not going to feel as good as my hand does right now. Trust me; I know."

 

"I’ll see your fist in my crotch and raise you a hand on your boob."

Look out, folks! It just went from the NCAA Tournament to the Quidditch World Cup awful quick-like. Shit just got real.

Well, that's all for tonight, kids. I'm about to go sip on some [fully legal, doctor prescribed, nothing-to-see-here-folks, just MIND YOUR BUSINESS] sizzurp and take my sick ass to bed.

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

*I know what you're thinking. "I thought she was sick!" Update on my bout with the ebola virus recovery/sickness for those of you that care (and for those of you that don't give a shit, but are very thorough readers that simply cannot pass up an asterisk footnote): I am still sick. I still have that run-over-by-a-truck feeling, but the good news is, I'm on the way to feeling better...I think. Seriously, it's been a week. If I don't get better soon, I may be forced to do something crazy. You hear me? Cra-zy. So fingers crossed for a [less than speedy, at this point - let's be real] recovery. 'Cause if that last digression is any indication, I'm already on my way to crazy.

**All photos courtesy of www.chron.com/sports

Cream of Sum Yun Gai

I’m baaaaaack! Have you missed me? I have been dying of the bubonic effing plague sick the past few days, and I couldn’t bring myself to half-ass blog. It wouldn’t even be worth it. But I think I’m on the road to recovery, so I’ll go ahead and give the people what they want today. In an effort to make my blog a bit more substantial (and slightly less narcissistic, which will be addressed in a later post), I have decided to try to incorporate a daily commentary. My commentary will be about current events, newsworthy stuff, different tv shows or movies I may watch…the list is endless. As you know, I have a lot of opinions…so…yeah.

 Today’s post is a commentary about a blog/article that my good friend shared with me because she didn’t want to be the only one disgusted by it (Thanks, Shy). So, here’s my own personal way of paying it forward. Check the article out here. You will need to read the article in its entirety before reading on in my post…major SPOILER ALERT. Consider yourself warned...I'll give you time to catch up on the required reading before continuing...

..............................<insert cheesy wait muzak here>...................................

...CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!? Are you as traumatized by it as I was??? No, really. Holy. Shit. I mean, I have heard of some seriously sick shit in my day…and Lord knows, I have seen my share of crazy on shows like Hoarders and Animal Hoarders…but this takes that crazy to a whole ‘nother level. This is my personal favorite line: “Noodles oozed out of the unzipped fly; a glory hole that Jack had ostensibly been taking advantage of all spring long. “ Wow. That descriptive sentence really put it all into perspective, you know?

 After reading this article, like the author, I’m left with so many questions. How does one get from Point A to Point B? What made Jack take advantage of his take out? Why didn’t Doug notice that he never saw any empty Chinese food containers? Was Jack always a hoarder? Was he even a hoarder, or did he just really like Chinese food? How much do you have to love Chinese food to want to make love to your Chinese food? I kind of get the whole hot apple pie thing…at least it’s hot…and gushy…but lo mein? What’s sexual about lo mein? And at what point did he decide to take his love affair to the next level? I mean, creating a boyfriend out of Chinese food? That’s borderline genius! Who would think to stuff random articles of clothing with foodstuffs to emulate a human companion? How did he pick what clothes his boyfriend would wear? Why make a boyfriend, and not a lo mein girlfriend? Was Jack gay, or what? Did he just not have any women’s clothing handy? Did Jack lift the bed every time he needed some lovin? How did Doug know that Jack had been taking advantage of said glory hole all summer? Did he leave...deposits? What if Jack was just lonely and socially inept, so he needed a friend? Would that make it better? Besides all that, what must it have smelled like in there? How did Doug not have any inkling of the debauchery going on in his spare room? Did he just ignore the smell of decaying deviance in his place for the sake of that sublet money? I’m not convinced any amount of money is worth having the memory of the lo mein man burned into your brain for the rest of your life. Am I right?

"...if it's gonna be that kind of party, I'm gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes!"

*drops mic, walks away*

Toto, I Don't Think We're at the Ritz Anymore...

As I mentioned before, I love staying in hotels. It's such a great escape from the monotony of every day life. You can leave all of the lights on as long as you want, run the water as long as you want (as long as you're not concerned with the environment, that is), set the A/C to the arctic freeze setting, room service, housekeeping, spa...what's not to like? What's funny to me is how standards change as you get older. When I was in college, I would stay in pretty much any kind of halfway-decent hotel. Now that I’m a grown up…my taste has become a tad bit more discriminating, to say the least. I’m not saying I always have to stay at a four star/diamond hotel…but I would, if I could. Not because I’m a complete hotel snob (although I do absolutely draw the line at hotels with outdoor entry; I’m convinced that those are actually motels), per se...but those places really are nicer. It isn’t just me. I mean, for those of you who haven’t stayed at the Ritz, Loewe’s, Waldorf-Astoria, or some equivalent hotel…you should. It’s almost worth the exorbitant amount of money.

There are a few key differences that I noticed during my last business trip. So that you indeed DO know what you’re missing, I have created a handy, dandy reference sheet:

5 Ways to Know That You Are NOT at the Ritz:

1.   The carpet has a curious, technicolor pattern, reminiscent of the 70's...or a cheap Vegas hotel...or a tacky cruise ship.

2.   Instead of a $10 bottle of Evian/Fiji, there is a free bottle of generic water - not necessarily a bad thing.

3.   The guest robe is dusty.

4.   You have to call housekeeping to please come change your sheets because the current sheets on your bed are suspiciously not tucked in at one corner (as if mussed during sleep by the previous guest, who must have been a wild sleeper).

5.   Instead of charging you for wireless internet, they charge you (or your company) $10-15 for internet...and then nonchalantly explain that you'll have to plug the provided ETHERNET CABLE into your laptop. I mean, really? Who still actually has to plug in to use the internet (besides my parents)??

There. Now if you are traveling and your hotel meets the above criteria…nope, it’s definitely NOT the Ritz, or any other “luxury” hotel. Perhaps you should click your heels together three times in hopes that you’ll end up in a hotel with gilded faucets and water pressure above a gentle stream...good luck with that.

...and another one...

Oh yeah! I also hate people who touch my computer screen. That is all.

more randomness...

this morning, during my bad morning escapades, i thought of a few more things people that really get under my skin (big surprise):

• people who go super slowly in the right hand lane and then don't turn right at the red light (obviously, this mostly only bothers me when i have to turn right).
• people who linger in my blind spot in traffic.
• people who stare. this woman in the elevator was staring at me intently this morning.WTF are you staring at?? mind your own business. i'm having a bad day and you're about to get the stink eye. beat it.
• people who insert themselves into a conversation that does not at all concern them, or that are very obviously eavesdropping on a conversation that they are not part of. again, mind your business.
• people who are super cheery first thing in the morning. listen, not everyone wakes up happy. i usually don't catch my snap until about 10:00. i suggest you steer clear until then.

hopefully i can snap out of this friday morning funk. until then, i am counting down until five o'clock and my inevitable cocktail that will soon follow.

Aaaaargh!

I am having one of those mornings. One of those mornings where I hit snooze three times, couldn't get out of bed even after the fourth alarm, couldn't find anything to wear, couldn't get my hair to cooperate, couldn't think straight, STILL couldn't wake up, couldn't find my keys, couldn't get out the door in a timely fashion, couldn't remember if I locked the front door, couldn't grab breakfast (or, more importantly, Starbucks), couldn't seem to make one single green light before it turned red, couldn't get to work on time (at all this week)...and then got all the way to work before realizing I left my work laptop sitting on the floor in my bedroom.

So, yeah. That happened.

Friday Funny

...isn't everyone? The recession is so bad it's affecting soda fountains? Shit. Hard times.

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.