Katastrophies & Other Important News

I am on my way to work today, peacefully resting at a red light when I turn down my radio because I think I hear something odd.  I was correct, I look to my left and there is a woman who has gotten out of her car and is yelling at the man behind her, ending her dramatic presentation with a klassy middle finger.  Much to my surprise she walked back to her new Mountaineer, rather than the beat up minivan with only one side mirror that I was expecting.  Upon closer inspection I saw that her two children were in the back seat.  Lovely.  Just lovely. 

First of all, let’s not get out of the car in the middle of rush hour traffic, it just can’t be a good safety lesson for the little ones.  Second of all, what better way to teach your children about handling stress and conflict than to reinforce the liberal use of the middle finger and multiple expletives.  As my grandmother would say, “SHAME on you!”  Shame on you for being a bad example to your children, shame on you for putting them in harm’s way just so that you could say your peace and SHAME ON YOU for being dumb enough assume that whoever was in the vehicle behind you WASN’T insane and wouldn’t gun you down at the intersection of Midway and Park.

I shook my head from left to right with visible disapproval, but what was I to do?  I said a tiny prayer that the woman would realize her bad behavior and give her children a verbal apology and explanation as to why it is NEVER ok to behave that way.

What a fun filled holiday weekend it was.  I slept in every morning and it was glorious.  Friday night Chad and I watched the finale of Grey’s Anatomy (sniff, sniff – will Meredith and McDreamy ever just be together and happy or must they keep pulling stunts like making a floor plan out of a billion candles, WHO does that, seriously ) and we cooked dinner.  Then on Saturday we each celebrated with Jon and Beth at their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties.  I will leave Chad’s evening out of this, as I cannot be responsible for the funny things I may say about his behavior and since we have to live in the same household I would rather do so peacefully.  

Anyhow, dinner was lovely at Margarita Ranch; I love leisurely evenings sitting around with the girls enjoying one another’s company.  I like being able to hear what others are saying and even more importantly, my own thoughts.  These are things that just aren’t possible at clubs and certain bars.  This is why I am convinced so many people make dumb decisions about the opposite sex at establishments with loud music and background noise.  It’s not that these people are dumb or idiotic they simply cannot hear one another and therefore assume the best when really they shouldn’t.  No, that other person really did say, “I hope you drive a Beamer otherwise this conversation is over.” And not, “I really love my Stanley Steamer, and my dog is named Rover.”  As you get older you begin to appreciate the finer things in life, like conversations that don’t require that you scream or accompany every word with a hand motion in order for the other person to understand you (although with certain people this is a requirement nonetheless). 

After dinner we headed back to the hotel for cake and presents.  As is standard for bachelorette parties the cake was decorated with an inappropriate use of white chocolate – they are doing nice things with flesh colored chocolate these days and brown curly cue frosting goes a long way as well.  After some drinks we headed out to the clubs.  Our first stop was a sports bar and grill where we were decidedly the only females other than the waitresses, and the occasional Marlboro smoking, acid washed jeans wearing, whisky drinking young lady (who may or may not have been from Mesquite, love you CHAD).  We stayed just long enough to see the beginning of an ultimate fighting championship, my first ever (yeah me).

Our next stop was The Ivey, where we went for Chad’s 30^th birthday (I mean 29thish).  It was nice to have table service and sit back and people watch (my favorite hobby, and no my mouth was not half open).  Nothing too exciting, there was some dancing (not by me of course), some drinking, some sketchy men claiming to be important Dallas writers, you know, the usual.  After hour one Beth decided it was time to move on.  So we rallied the troops and headed to the hotel….or so we thought.  We were coerced into another club, with the allure of free shots (none for me thanks).  We took an elevator down to a loud, dark cave filled with scantily clad blondes.

My attention was immediately grabbed by two young women who had forgotten to put their skirts on, and yes I realize that by admitting this I sound like I am 45 years old, but it was ridiculous.  As if their long t-shirts posing as dresses weren’t enough they quickly began rubbing on one another pretending to dance while two hormonally infused young men watched eagerly.  I suppose when half of your rear end is exposed for all the world to see taking that extra step and molesting your friend on the dance floor doesn’t seem quite as risqué.  But frankly it made me vomit a little in my mouth and while I freely admit to having my wilder days they never involved my butt pressed up against my best friend’s crotch as we swayed to “I like big butts and I can’t deny all you other…..”  That’s one for the scrapbooks ladies, seriously, call me when you are 30, and have some damn pants on.

Why am I always the floating head and where is my other floating head best friend Gigi? 

Anyway, the pseudo lesbian dance off was our signal to head for the Hills (like, um, yeah, long pause, seriously).

The next day Chad and I bummed around the house.  That night we met Beth S. and a bunch of peeps out for her birthday at Fireside Pies in Grapevine, it was delicious.  And I got to hold Sophia Kate for a while, which was an extra treat – for those of you who don’t know she is Gigi and Eric’s little baby sweet bundle of honey love adorableness (or something like that).

That night when we got home our fire/smoke alarm decided to go off randomly.  I drove all the way to the store for replacement batteries only to discover that our detector is faulty.  So like any safety conscious couple we just removed it all together and it now sits nicely on the end of our kitchen counter waiting to detect something.

Monday I joined Beth, Renee and a bunch of peeps at the pool…the same pool where I obtained my base burn of the summer.  This time I was smart enough to lather up with something that actually had SPF in it.  It’s so fun to watch all the pool locals.  Nothing warms my heart like watching a young family relax by the pool together; mom holding baby, beer and lit cigarette and dad lightly caressing his beer belly complete with life size tattoo of a large breasted fairy.  Ah yes, this is Americana, this is the dream and I am just livin it.

We get it Beth, you’ve been working out, no need to show off.

One of many lovely ladies I met that night.

Our dog is a barker, which pretty much fits in nicely with his other characteristics ranging from pee-er, jumper, and trash eater (I know, he is so multidimensional).  He barks at the train that goes by 5 times a day, car doors, the sound of human voices, birds, grasshopper farts, and I think he even barked at the recent earthquake in China.  But nothing gets him going quite like the bunnies.

We live in a nice little neighborhood with a creek that runs behind our house.  There are fireflies, snakes, frogs, tarantulas (I almost died when I saw one…twice), lizards and all types of birds including owls.  But the greatest population seems to be of rabbits, which makes sense if you think about the old saying.  They are so cute, so fuzzy and so DEMENTED.  The worst is when they sit right in front of the window still as stone.  Chewy, the dog, goes absolutely crazy running from one room to another hoping to find an exit to the backyard.  He gets so riled up that as he is going from the living room (hardwood floors) to the bedroom (carpet) that he spends about 5.6 seconds treading the wood floors because he can’t get any traction.  It’s so cute to see this little 17 (sometimes 20, even dogs have fat days) pound dog practically running in place as he rounds the corner in the ultimate battle for total bunny domination!

Anyhow, the bunnies even taunt him on leisurely walks through the neighborhood.  They are in almost every yard, hiding in the bushes like trained snipers, blending in with the local greenery.  They hop in the night catching only the corner of Chewy’s little eye, just enough to send him flying from one end of the street to other…dragging us along for back up.  Last night he charged after one forgetting that, like good owners, we had him on a leash so his harness snapped him back into reality as, alas, yet another bunny escaped right in front of his eyes.

I don’t think Chewy would or even could actually catch, kill and eat a bunny.  I think he just likes the thrill of the hunt – much the way men under 25 look at dating.  They don’t really want to marry someone but nonetheless they are on the hunt for the perfect girl to fulfill all their dreams.  Huh, looks like Chewy has a lot in common with the young male.  Did I mention that he also passes gas, looks around with the “who dun it” face and then flees the scene of the crime?  True story.

Does this look like the face of a bunny killer?

I was elated to find out that, in fact, David Cook DID win American Idol – apparently America can be trusted…with some things, like picking the most talented singer but let’s not get crazy and start letting them choose the president or anything.  God knows what might happen.

Speaking of Clinton.  Is it just me or did Bill look a little like Grizzley Adams here:

This is the first season that I have watched, I am not sure why it took me so long to hop on the AI train –possibly because I used to have a life where I ventured outside my home on week nights.  But that was a long time ago, no need to reminisce.  Anyhow, I do know that Chad and I had NO IDEA that the seasons lasted this long.  I think we began watching the cast in the summer of 2007 or something; seriously they drag this thing out for as long as possible.  They could probably knock it all out in a 2 months if they didn’t do those hokey group numbers where they all look and sound just like Simon’s worst insult – cabaret, karaoke, or worse as if they are performing alone in their bedrooms.  Just sing your songs, vote and let’s move this thing along.  The worst part is that goofy 17 year old kid is probably going to win.  Why?  Because there are way more teenage girls with nothing better to do than dial and vote than there are average age adults who have a better sense of who will really last in the music industry.  The point is – David Cook is WAY better all around than the kid.  I would actually go see David C. in concert AND I have already downloaded 2 of his songs.  I would NEVER go hear David A. belt out 15 cheesy romantic ballads while 150 tweens held up TAKE ME TO PROM signs (totally happened for real).

Tonight I just know that Chad and I are going to be disappointed by America’s decision – and who decided that America was qualified to make such an important decision.  Has anyone been paying attention?  We aren’t so good at deciding what is best and there are way too many examples to name here.

You know those dogs that are super obedient, well groomed, calm, house trained, have good breath, behave well with kids and strangers, etc.  Well, that’s not our dog.  In fact, it might be the polar opposite of our dog.  And those people who DO have dogs resembling the above characteristics frankly just make me mad; for no other reason than jealousy.  I wish I could take our dog out in public without fearing that he will hike his leg on someone, growl at a child (although he has NEVER bitten anyone strangers don’t know that), poop in a yard while the owners are looking on (forcing me to pick it up which I HATE), or try to charge a German Shepherd (as if a 17 lb creature could be that threatening).  But alas, I cannot and at 11 years old I fear that I will never be able to (the dog, not me, but I am only 22 for the record…shut up, it’s trueish).

Our dog Chewy, bad manners and all, is the best bad dog ever.  And I can’t decide who has the shorter memory me or him.  I come home from work and there is a puddle in our living room (thank God for hardwoods) but he is wagging his tale, licking my face and dying to be close to me.  Of course I am angry at first but 30 minutes later he is all snuggled up in my lap and the memories of soaking up pee with 15 paper towels dissipates. 

So, yes, my header is one of my many wedding pictures, but I have no shame.  It just so happens that I looked fab on this day, much more so than usual, and I had 3 professional photographers following me around just looking for good angles, lighting and my good side – how could I NOT look good.  While Chad and I have almost been married a year I might possibly use my wedding photos for any and all things requiring a picture until I am 45.  My Mom used to say that when I was 45 I could: cross the street alone, ride my bike on major streets, date and numerous other things.  The funny thing is, at the time, 45 seemed like a perfectly reasonable age to do all of these things.

Anyhow, my point is, I will probably never have the skills of a professional photographer again so WHY NOT get the most for my money!

P.S. Tonight I am making taco soup for dinner.  It’s the easiest, yummiest dish I think I make: ground turkey meat, chopped onion, 3 cans of pinto beans (that may or may not have a lasting affect/effect – who really knows which one is correct and I am sure I don’t care), 1 of rotel, a packet of taco seasoning, 1 of ranch dressing mix, 1 can of water and a whole lot of LOVE!  Add grated parm cheese and a few tortilla chips and you are bueno.

Good News – I officially have my base burn for the summer, a nice healthy place to start 2008’s search for the perfect golden tan (the goal of all educated individuals come June or July).  The unfortunate side effect – tacky tan lines that will ruin any and all attempts of looking cute and classy in a strapless tank top plus some obvious peeling that will occur in 2.5 days.  Where did I obtain this burn you ask – well, being that Chad and I have yet to begin digging for our custom pool and hot tub I had to resort to a good old fashioned public apartment pool.  But I will say that the people watching is much better than being in my own backyard.

I think it’s safe to say that apartment pools are the mecca of shriveled butterfly tattoos, beer bellies and inappropriate swimwear.   Nothing says sexy like Mickey Mouse on the upper thigh…note to self: although cartoon characters were fun to watch at one time they were not meant for permanent ink, large shapeless t-shirts or any sort of accessory for those over the age of 10.

Nonetheless I had fun hanging out with the girls and reading my new (and signed by the author) book, Such a Pretty Fat by Jen Lancaster (my hero). 

Saturday night was spent bowling with friends – so much fun.  It turns out, however, that my signature bowling move has caused me some discomfort.  I am sure it’s because of my excellent form and NOT because I am so terribly out of shape that a lazy “sport” like bowling would make my muscles ache, absolutely impossible.  Ok, maybe a little possible.  But that’s besides the point because I did really well, all things considered (like the fact that we all pretty much sucked so to bowl a 120 was actually good in this small circle…no offense peeps, but you know it’s true).

All in all it was a delightful weekend ended with a classic showing of A Few Good Men…..and one BAD haircut by Demi Moore, it’s true look it up.

This is a monumental day. While waiting to leave for “lunch” AKA quick trip to Forever 21 I decided to take a few minutes and start a blog, a real one and not that sorry excuse for a blog on MySpace. Heather Bakes was my inspiration and I only hope that mine will be 1/2 as cool as hers. The problem with me is that I am eternally lazy when it comes to technical steps, like downloading pictures, songs and anything else that evokes a yawn. When I am rich I will hire someone to do all of these minor tasks or I could just get pregnant, have a baby and raise the child to wait on me hand and foot. But the thought of stretch marks and the teenage years scare me way too much. So, please enjoy!