Argh. Kardashians 2.0.

Now Kendall and Kylie are making the news? Too many Kardashians. Too many "K" names. I can't take it. (and yet was oddly psyched that Kourtney was wearing a top I own in last week's episode of Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami or whatever that show is called.)

I am such a hypocrite - if Kris Jenner were to call me up, say she was changing my name to Krystal and adopting me, I would be all over it. Sigh.

Again, challenged.

Totally thought one of the lyrics in that new Rihanna-Eminem song was "when the toenail meets the volcano..." Which I know makes no sense, but whatever. Last night I realized he's saying "when the TORNADO meets the volcano..." which I guess makes more sense? Doy.

I am challenged.

I've been trying to file the paperwork to re-finance my car after the lease is up. It has been an ongoing process since like early June. And apparently one page is too difficult for little ol' me to figure out. They have sent it back to me three times so far. Each time with more little Post-it flags and handwritten notes. And each time I manage to mess it up, I guess. Just got it again this week. I swear to God if I fill it out incorrectly again they'll probably just take my car away. Because I am too stupid to be allowed to drive. (And every time I think I'm doing it right! That's the scary part!)
Sigh.

Why is this HAPPENING to me?!

Ladies night. TopGolf. After an hour wait (but half-price drinks! Woo!), we kicked our golf skillz into high gear. Did we meet any boys? No. Did the guy next to us comment on my running man? You betcha. I believe his direct quote was, "No, you didn't." Yes, I did. The opening riff from Ice Ice Baby came on. But then it turned out to be Under Pressure. Still good, but not really running man-worthy.

M forgot to put her ball through the "doodad" (J's term), so the above image kept popping up on our screen. I couldn't stop giggling at the "Why is this HAPPENING?!" title. Picturing a guy whining to the front desk, "what's WRONG with me? What's HAPPENING?" And then it just went off on the typical tangents:

-it happens to every guy.

-it's totally normal. just relax.

-it's not you, it's me.

Hey - girls gotta make our own fun, you know what I mean?! M easily took the "best" prize, while J took the "accuracy" cup. And I won for best dance moves. Yay TopGolf.

No big surprise here

...but I bought this lipgloss a while back called "Huge Lips Skinny Hips." It claims to be a lip plumper equipped with hoodia, so you won't want to eat anything. Yes, I'm the ONE person that bought into it. And yes, I'm the first to admit it's crap. I'm starving. My appetite is not suppressed. (oh, and my lips are the exact same size.)

Lord I'm a sucker. Mmmm suckers. Lollipops. Candy. I'm hungry. Dammit.

Another tip for dudes on Match

Wait until the divorce is final, boys. I got two winks yesterday from guys who are "separated." Um, NO.

You really can't make this stuff up

So I met a guy Saturday night and gave him my #. He was saying it was his 21st birthday, which I knew was a lie - turns out it was his 29th. He was wearing a gold chain, but hey. Slim pickins out there.

He actually texted Monday and asked about getting together, so I suggested he meet me at happy hour last night. Which he did. Then I made the mistake of telling him one of my friends was a flight attendant, and he made a beeline over to her where he stayed for like 30 minutes. No biggie - didn't think I liked him, anyway. But friends were asking if he was on something - seemed a little too "wired" for 7pm.

Via text he had said he worked at Northpark, but I was thinking he meant like that general vicinity. Nope, found out last night he's a waiter at Maggiano's. And doesn't have a car. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but...I'm out. No "I'll meet you out after I get off at midnight" action for this girl. Oof.

Best Match headline yet.

"I can't be THAT ugly..."

Ha. Good stuff, bro.

We have a winner!

Meet "alloutredneck." Who winked at me on Match. His opening sentence, which was all I could get through, reads, "I'm not the backwoods hillbilly this would imply..."

Sweet. My search is over.

How bizarre

Driving to dinner last night, there was a crazy monsoon/thunderstorm, and I don't know if lightning struck or what, but the railroad guards were down. Guys were literally pulling their cars over, getting out, and HOLDING them up so people could get through! It was a complete clusterf*ck, but man there are some good samaritans running around. Shout-out to the dude in the silver SUV who held it up for me! (heh - that sounded dirty.)

Sushi Sake= mmmm

Such a fun night with my besties. XOXO

Someone please enter this

"Countess" Luann from Real Housewives of NYC has a lipsync contest up on her website. I don't VISIT her webiste, but I saw her tweet on People.com and it was too awesome to pass up. Someone. Please. Send in a video. Singing along to the "hit" Money Can't Buy You Class. Please.

www.classwiththecountess.com/contest

The Men Tell All

I would love to gather all of my ex-boyfriends into a room and hear what they had to say about me. Certainly not on national television, and certainly wouldn't tell them I was listening, but it could either be very eye-opening or super depressing. Ha.



What I took from last night:

1. Some of the guys who got the boot early on are super cute. Steve? What??

2. "The Phantom" was hilarious and spoke more last night than on 7 or 8 episodes of the show combined.

3. Ali. Not a good dress choice, sweetie.

4. The 20/20 "Stories Behind the Rose" was quite amusing. I keep forgetting about Austin Brad. Might need my brother who lives in Austin to investigate. Yum. But I was sad that most of the girls aren't married. Meredith, Estella, DeAnna, Jillian...

5. Loving the Bachelor Pad previews. But I will be peeved if Kiptyn hooks up with Tenley. He is hot and she annoys the crap out of me.



I still predict next week Ali picks no one. I'll take Cape Cod Chris, thanks.

thank you god

Lurking around on Match, I came across the HOTTEST. GUY. EVER. Seriously it's a little ridiculous. But he sounds very religious, and I don't even go to church on Christmas anymore. For him, I would start, though...

Maybe I'll just send him a brief note: "Hallelujah you're hot." Thoughts? Amen. And damn.

Greatness.

Walked into the gym this morning and the song blaring on the loudspeakers was the Rocky theme. Genius. And much easier to get psyched up to get on the treadmill. Keep it up, Y.

VH1 Classic Rocks My World.

Not only do they have the two-hour blocks of "Totally 80s" videos which absolutely kill me, but this week's movie selection includes:

Pretty in Pink
Adventures in Babysitting
Teen Wolf
Footloose

Are you kidding me. Thank you kind people at Viacom.

Tragic, Match. Just tragic.

1. It's not spelled "Babtist." But this guy was super cute. Perhaps I cut him some slack? Nah.
2. Not good to use as your profile pic you, taking a picture of yourself with your phone, with your eyes looking down to check the picture.
3. Also not good: using what has to be your church directory photo as your profile picture.
4. Wife beaters. Nope.
5. Screen name "redhotpassions."

More to come. I can only take so much on day one.

And we're back.

On Match. Sheerly out of boredom, I assure you. And for amusing blog posts. Just signed up for one month to see how tragic it gets.

So far, only winks, and a few of those have been from guys who winked at me the LAST time I was on it. Which either means A. no one is actually meeting anyone, or 2. guys get on Match while dating other girls. Either way, awesome.

My new phone wallpaper...

I pity the fool. I do. (and I kind of want some of these necklaces.)

Alphaville still rules

Heard "Forever Young" on the radio this morning. The ORIGINAL version. Sorry, kiddies - the Jay-Z song is great and all, but nothing tops Alphaville. How old am I? Jeez.

So many songs we forgot to play...

Dollar Bellinis. I'll have ten, please

Yay for Patrizio's and their dollar bellinis in July! Heading there tonight for a friend's bday - and it's so fab to throw down a five (or a ten, ahem), and know that's all you're spending for 5, 10ish drinks. GENIUS.

Then pool time on Saturday and girls night out that night. Of course, EVERY night out is "girls night out" for me, but whatever.

Hello, weekend. How I've missed you.

xoxo

I can be your hero baby

I'm kind of digging the new Enrique Iglesias song. Mostly for the fact that it borrows from Lionel Richie's "All Night Long," but still. I guess even without The Mole, dude's still got it. Arriba, indeed.

Cancun log, day 4

Last day in Mexico. Sad face. :( But we still popped up bright and early to maximize the sun time. I tried to save the special private island seats again - this time with cans of Canada Dry from our mini-bar - and again, they were stolen. Really? Canada Dry at 7am? Dang, Mexico.

But we were still able to get prime baking done, and after another pizzeria lunch with sweet Manuel (thanks for the homemade Mudslide, yo), we headed to the pool for some last-minute people watching and swimsuit critiquing. Saw an inappropriate water ballet between a father and his daughter, but again, kept blaming "Europe." Sorry, Europe. All the hairy backs, Speedos, and weirdo behavior is apparently your fault. No hard feelings.

Our check-out time was supposed to be noon, but our flights weren't until 5 and 6pm, so they let us check out at 1 and we could still hang out, drink, eat, etc. until it was time to leave. But once we checked out, it was like a switch was flipped and Scary Mexico emerged. We were supposed to get a free shuttle back to the airport, but because one person flew herself instead of through the travel agency, they freaked out and said we could only take a later shuttle that would make Jill miss her flight. The dude totally gave us attitude, too, saying we were "the best clients EVER" (um, super sarcastically). Ladies and gentlemen: El Douche.

And then when we were finally ready to go to the airport, the security guard came over and demanded to see our check-out ticket and basically escorted us out the door. Sheesh - we get it! Dunzo.

I had to sit in the front on the cab ride to the airport, so it was MY turn to get hit on. The driver told me I was really tan (in Spanish), and then said I was like a "zanahoria." Which means carrot. I was like, um, what now? I may be reddish, but I am NOT orange. Then he back-pedaled, saying I was "sexy." (Which apparently is the same in every language.) So let's re-cap: I am a "sexy carrot." You can't hear THAT enough...

Jill was on a different airline, so we had to split up. Jade and I had like 3 hours before our flight, so like the good tourists we are, we hit Duty Free and TGIFriday's. And then the monitors said our flight was delayed. Awesome! We plopped down at the gate and started chatting with the people across from us. They had been to a wedding in Playa del Carmen and were on their way back to Dallas. They were pretty much coupled up except for one dude who was pretty adorbs. I am still hoping he will post a Missed Connection for Jade and their airport romance can continue. And then I bumped into a lady (also on our flight, as it turned out) who was wearing the exact same dress as me. So of course I had to take a picture. (She told me I was "emanating heat." Thank you, slight sunburn!)

Our flight ended up taking off about an hour late, and the rest of the trip home was fairly uneventful. After downloading like 100 pics, I passed out. Tan is fading, but good times all around! And no one was kidnapped or got Montezuma's Revenge! (actually, now that I think about it...)

VIVA.

I so need these.

Maybe then no one would steal my luggage.

I would totally rock...

...an engagement ring like this. Think of how many CARATS it would be, going across two fingers! Hahaha. It does make typing a bit difficult, though. adgolihadg.

Cancun log, day 3

Day three was the most overcast, which in turn meant we re-applied sunscreen fewer times and got the most sun(burned) that day. Good times. We happened upon these thatched umbrellas and private lounge chairs on the beach further down from the pool area, and hung out there all day. It was seriously like being on our own private island. Aside from the weirdos who were snorkeling right in front of us - um, nothing to see, people. Not even one fish. Whatever. Maybe they were looking for jewelry that other people had lost. Or my awesome cowboy hat that either blew away or was most likely stolen off of the chair I was trying to save. Bastards.

We hit the pizzeria for lunch, which is where we met Manuel. Jade kept calling him Miguel, but whatev. He was so precious and made us drinks that actually had ALCOHOL in them. For me, he made something called "Sex with the Bartender." Hilarious. And delicious. Gave him a big tip. (Cash, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.)

I also was That Girl who purchased crap from the guy selling on the beach. Got three anklets for $10 and we divvied them up. Jade tried to get me to get my hair cornrowed, but been there, done that. We also headed out to sea, paddle-boat style, and it was much more tiring than I imagined. I'll blame the current for that...we had it for an hour, but I think we returned it after about 15 minutes. Don't judge.

Finally around 3 we had enough of the sun, so we got changed and headed into town to check out the mercado and get some dinner. (Early bird special, apparently.) The cab ride into town was amusing, merely because our driver Paco took a liking to Jill (who had to sit in the front, poor thing). He said she was "muy blanca, grande, y elegante." Which literally means white, big and elegant, but we knew he meant TALL instead of big. And all of these were compliments, although not sure Jill felt that way. As if I would ever get "elegant." Humph.

The mercado was a nightmare - I had forgotten how harassing the people are. "Hey Blondie!" "You dropped something!" "Buy now, pay later!" etc. If they only realized I would be much more likely to buy something if they just stopped talking. So we lasted about 10 minutes and made a run for it. After purchasing some over-the-counter stuff from the Farmacia (viva Mexico!), we became total tourists and hit Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville for dinner. And it was delish. Complete with video footage of Buffet...good times all around. I managed to buy a replacement cowboy hat in a much quieter version of the mercado. Yeehaw.

And then it was back to the hotel to rest up for our final day on the beach. Sniff.

Up tomorrow: sexy carrots, policia, and Jade's airport romance.

What the what?

Random dude I'm friends with on FB but have never met (because apparently that's how I roll) must have liked the Cancun pics, because he's been sending me facebook messages since Sunday. Never heard from him before this, and he doesn't ever update his status or anything either. Last night's message:

"I hope you do think this is rude, but you are very striking."

Mmm-kay. Let's assume for one second that he MEANT to write "don't" instead of "do." Next up, why would that be rude? Unless of course to him, "striking" is similar to "strike OUT," as in "big fat zero"... humph.

Will Twitter for food

I heard on E! News that Kim Kardashian made $25,000 to tweet ONCE about a pair of Armani jeans. Um, what. I would be more than happy to hock random products via Twitter. Of course, my paltry 85 followers might not make as much of a dent as her 4 million, but still. Just putting it out there.

Cancun log, day 2

Day two proved to be the hottest, with very little cloud cover. This made ME happy, but not sure how psyched Jill and Jade were about that. (Thank god for hats.) In fact, by 9am it was so hot that we had to move our lounge chairs into the pool. Genius.

We lounged by the pool for most of the morning, interrupted briefly by an Argentinian guy who waded over with a drink for me. Note: all these drinks are free, so it's not technically like he BOUGHT me a drink. More like BROUGHT me a drink. He asks where I'm from, I say Texas, he says he's from Argentina but speaks "poquito English." Sweet. So there's an awkward pause and he swims away, giving me time to see his redonkulously hairy back. Bueno. But we kept running into him (see yesterday's post) - doing a Michael Jackson dance in the lobby, coming in and out of the elevator - which involved an awkward side hug on my part and a deep "Hola, que tal." from him. Hilarious.

The hotel staff were all ABOUT some cheesy pool games, all day, every day. Complete with whistles and dance tunes, they involved everything from drinking games to dance lessons to...water aerobics? We never participated, but it sure was entertaining to watch.

We moved to the beach that afternoon, and ogled a Prince Harry lookalike (one of three roaming around - weird) playing beach volleyball. How very Top Gun. Debated whether the two cute boys lounging behind us were gay or straight - I voted for straight, but they WERE laying out together, so who knows - and continued the frozen beverage fiesta.

After attempting to shower off the sand (which I am STILL finding between my toes, btw), we headed downstairs for dinner. They have three restaurants for dinner (Asian, steakhouse, and Mexican), but you have to make reservations that morning, which we forgot to do. So we tried to lie our way in. Got turned away by the steakhouse and the Mexican place, but hit paydirt Asia-style. I was adamant that we had a reservation, and the guy took pity on us and we got a table. The food really wasn't that great or worth all the hassle, but it was something different than the buffet (um, although technically it WAS a buffet), so...

The waiter asked me if we wanted some Mexican sake. Being just that naive, I said sure. Yep - "Mexican sake" is tequila. And man did it BURN.

After dinner we headed out to the porch with another round of bevs that tasted a lot like baby aspirin. Mmmm. Which is where we ran into Douche. After dark. (Or D.A.D.) Turns out his accent is NOT attractive. Neither was he, of course. After getting what had to be a hooker to take our picture, we were ready to turn in. Had to get up early to save seats, dammit!

Up tomorrow: blanca y grande, touristy shmouristy, and our own private island.

Cancun log, day 1

Going to try and write this down before I forget everything...at least I have the pics to jog my memory. And a cheapie anklet bought off the beach as a keepsake. At least until it turns my foot green.

So day one, Thursday. Jade (shout-out!) and I got to the airport at the crack of dawn. Seriously it was like before 5am. And of course we're leaving out of the coolest terminal, D, but alas NOTHING is open. Cool River? No. L'Occitane? Nope. At least a Starbucks? No sir. Did love seeing everyone in their vacation travel clothes, though - flip flop a-rama.
Uneventful flight and arrive to a rainy day in Cancun, aka my biggest vacation fears realized. Jade kept assuring me it would blow over, but I was NOT amused.

Our all-inclusive package included transportation to and from the airport, and our shuttle included a family from Dallas who was there to celebrate their daughter's 15th bday. She had a camcorder out and was filming the ride to the hotel - so of course we made sure and photo-bombed it. I'm sure she will watch it back and go, "Who are these weirdos wishing me a happy birthday?" Ha.

Hotel was nicer than we expected*, and we sprinted to change and throw on our bikinis before it started raining again. (And of course to hit the buffet and the bar. In fact, we requested a drink from the concierge at the front desk the minute we walked in. All-inclusive, baby!) Beach and pool time quickly followed, and Jade was right - the sun DID come out! Ahhhhhhh.

There was some incredible people-watching going on at this place. We came up with names and stories for people - i.e. "Douche" was the Brit who was wearing a pale yellow wife-beater, khaki man-pris (man capris, thanks Jill), a white belt and bright white sneaks. Oh, and aviator shades and a wannabe Bieber hairdo. "Biggie" was this large guy who we felt really bad for, but then he found his BFF and they could not be separated for the rest of the trip. (Although it seemed like something of a love-hate relationship, since they would be hugging in the pool and the next minute one would be trying to drown the other. Whatever. Boys will be boys.) We met the British friends of Douche - who were staying for two freaking weeks - and I lived up to the "stupid American" stereotype by not knowing the Union Jack was not in fact England's flag. (Um, duh.) And we saw bunches of Speedos, thongs, back hair and everything else European. Why they come to Mexico instead of going to, say, the Italian Riviera is beyond me.

And the hilarious part about all of this was that since it was all-inclusive, everyone stayed on-site. For breakfast. For pooltime. For drinks. For dinner. For late-night. Something of an on-ground cruise. So you couldn't ever have a one-night stand and be like, "I'll never see him again!" Because you would. Most likely the next morning over the breakfast buffet. Oof.

We also managed to jump into ANOTHER random camcorder video - going for some sort of record. Our cheesy waves will be captured for years to come. Or immediately erased when he got back to his room.

Jill arrived that evening and we, along with everyone else, ate at the buffet. Not too shabby - hel-lo, soft serve ice cream! And then we hit the bar for some festive, yet sometimes Bandaid-tasting and very watered down, adult beverages. Mmm mmm bueno.

*Upon first glance.

Up tomorrow: My Argentinian "luvah," Douche After Dark, and cheesy pool games.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Just practicing my Spanish...because we're off to Cancun tomorrow! Praying for surf, sun, and not getting kidnapped. VIVA MEXICO.

So easily annoyed

I get pissed off about the stupidest things. Grocery store not having my favorite flavor of Yoplait. Anything Kardashian. But yesterday afternoon, I almost had a conniption. (What IS a conniption? I digress.)

Got home from work to find that the people that live across the alley from me have placed this gigantic orange U-Haul storage crate in the alley, right in front of my parking spot. Now, I can still pull in and out, but can't go out the way I usually do and it's like a 30-point turn each time. HIGHLY annoying. I almost marched up to their front door and pitched a fit, but then thought that the odds are they won't do anything about it anyway. (Their house is in Highland Park; the alley divides HP from Dallas. So they can lord that over my head as well.) So for now, just going to leave a few minutes early to make up for the 5 minutes it takes to get out of my parking place. But don't think for one second that I'm not giving their house the evil eye every time. Rich bastards.

Annnnnd breathe. :)

Bieber fever

I've decided that having bangs has made me eerily similar to the Biebs. Not because throngs of screaming tweens follow me around. Merely because I find myself constantly shaking my head to get the bangs back in place, which is what he does ad nauseum.

Fight the power, Biebs.

Bachelorette...why am I still watching this...

Another yawn-fest, punctuated by the following musings:

1. We get it. Ali likes yellow. For the love of wardrobe stylists, get this girl something else to wear.
2. Really? You didn't have a second to brush out your hair and maybe clean yourself up before meeting Chris' family? You look a hot mess, girl.
3. Kirk's family was a hoot. (And I say that with my best Wisconsin/Minnesoooota accent). With the taxidermist dad and the mom with braces, that's a reality show in the making!
4. Frank is lame. That is all.
5. Roberto. Hilarious to me that his brother's name is Peter. Let's hope it was actually Pedro and he changed it - otherwise that's kind of rude of the parents to give one kid a Hispanic name and not the other...

Team Chris. Although it's obviously all Roberto, all the time.

I'm too old for this sh*t.

-what Danny Glover is probably saying about his looney tunes ex co-star, Mel Gibson. What in the world is wrong with this guy? First the anti-Semitic (and chauvinist) comments when he got arrested, now domestic violence and verbal abuse? And to think I actually enjoyed "What Women Want."

These crazy actors are certainly helping my wallet - I no longer need to shell out money to see Tom Cruise movies, and can now safely add Mel Gibson to that list. Freakshows. :)

Karaoke Cab. I must own one.

Y'all. This thing was hilariousness. Pulls up to my apartment complete with neon lights underneath and strobe lights that you can see through the windows. Then the door slides open and all this smoke comes out from the SMOKE MACHINE. Yes please.

The guy passed out the microphones, the little DVD screen came down with the song lyrics, and the fun began. Our playlist:

1. (You've got) The Right Stuff
2. Summer of 69
3. Material Girl
4. Sweet Caroline - which was still playing as we pulled up to the packed patio of the bar. Everyone did a complete double-take as we emerged like some sort of sci-fi movie, with smoke and lights and me still singing "hands...touching hands...reaching out...touching me...touching you..." Talk about making an entrance.

Then on the way home our numbers were fewer, but the vocals were still strong:

5. All Out of Love
6. Burning Love (this one didn't go so well)

Yay for Monday (the owner's name) and his genius invention, the Karaoke Cab. I will be saving that number in my cellphone forever.

Near miss on the Katy Trail

There was almost a fight on the Katy Trail yesterday, thanks to my friend Sarah and a total douchebag on rollerblades. We were walking, and we were passing two other ladies walking. This guy on skates passes US, and has plenty of room to do so, but semi-under his breath yet loud enough for everyone to hear, starts cussing something like "Freaking ridiculous! Move out of the way!" etc. And sweet Sarah yells back, "screw you, a**hole!" (She's from New York. Give her a break.) Well, this guy (who is wearing jean short shorts, btw) whips around and yells "F@*& you, bitch!"

WHAT. It's a Sunday morning, dude. There are kids around. The ladies we just passed gasped and were like WTF, as were we. Insane. I was really hoping he wouldn't pass us going the other way, and luckily we didn't see him again. Crazy rollerskating bully.

And the blog comes full circle.

My very first post addressed the tragedy that was Crystal Bowersox's teeth. And lo and behold, she's gotten them fixed! Not going to boost my ego and assume she took MY advice, but kudos, girlfriend. Kudos.

Bring it, 33.

So tomorrow is my birthday. Happy happy joy joy. In my own honor, thought I'd take you back to that fateful day, 33 years ago... (Cue the Wayne's World squiggly lines "doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo." Or Sophia on Golden Girls: "Picture it: Sicily, 1817...")

Sometimes I think, if I had popped out three days earlier, I could have been born on 7/7/77. Which would surely be super lucky (don't call me Shirley). Then again, considering I was already two months early, three more days and I probably would have died. Not that lucky.

So my dad was playing in a tennis tournament at Lakeway outside of Austin. He and my mom had done NADA to prepare for a baby, but figured they had two more months to get themselves in gear. And hell, this was the 70s. They were smoking and drinking it up anyway. (I'm sure my mother will post corrections/objections below.) Even my grandparents were there - it was a family affair.

I guess Sunday (the 10th) was the final, and my mom went into labor. They had to put the tournament on hold, but the crowd was thrilled because it became an open bar situation. (You're welcome, peeps.) The doctor told my dad it would be a long time, and he should go ahead and play. Completely in shock and out of it, he quickly lost in straight sets. And then I entered the world at a whopping 4 pounds, 1 ounce. Judging by the photos, I was HIDEOUS. Didn't really even look human. Awesome.

After a brief 3-week stint in the hospital, giving my parents time to run to Sears and buy a crib and diapers (no clothes, though - my grandmother had to sew doll clothes for me because I was so teensy), I headed home to Dallas. Where my mother promptly caught the kitchen on fire trying to heat up my first bottle. But I digress.

Cut to 33 years later, and I managed to turn out okay. Ish. :)

Praying to the god of skinny punks that a gust of wind picks up...

Please let these f-ing tropical storms blow right past Cancun so that I can still enjoy my pina colada on the beach next week...regardless, I'm coming back tan. Maybe Cancun has a tanning salon.

Celebrity Rehab

...is like the best show on TV. Hands down. Just read that Jeremy London will be on it (I wasn't buying that "I was kidnapped and FORCED to do drugs!" story one bit), and it got me thinking who else should volunteer...

Lindsay Lohan. She'll be out of jail just in time. And it's not like she has anything better to do.

Jason Wahler. Dude, you're not on Laguna Beach anymore. Deal.

Kristin Cavallari. Apparently has a coke problem. And her plus Jason might equal visits from LC!

Mel Gibson. Not like he would do it, but the man is shade-tastic.

Chynna Phillips. Who already went to rehab, but I'm sure her issues are right there under the surface.

Amy Winehouse. Because that's just good TV right there.

You're welcome, Dr. Drew.

You know the bangs look semi-decent when

...the token gay guy at the office comments on them. PHEW.

Went back and forth debating if I should pull them back for my new driver's license pic this morning (6 years of a photo with BANGS! Gah!), but decided WTF. The last photo was taken when I was 21, so anything is better than that. Hopefully.

I'm kind of a star f*cker

...at least when it comes to workout tapes. Recently bought Bethenny Frankel's "Body by Bethenny" yoga DVD and it's actually not bad. (I'm no yogi, so who knows.) It happily joins my Jackie Warner DVD (the lesbian gym owner from the Bravo show "Work Out") - also a toughie.

I guess celebrities shelling their workout products speak to me. Of course, most of them have a personal trainer, a personal chef and most likely an eating disorder, so these workouts aren't going to produce similar results, but it makes me FEEL like they will. And that's half the battle.

Back in the VHS days, my celebrity workout fandom peaked with the embarassing-to-admit Jennie Garth and Cher step aerobic tapes. (Not Jennie and Cher TOGETHER, although that might have been a best-seller.) But I guess it all began with Alyssa Milano and "Teen Steam" (gotta let it out - anyone?). Oh the humanity.

But I draw the line at the Girls Next Door workout tape. And probably won't be buying Kim Kardashian's "Fit Into Your Jeans by Friday," although I have thought seriously about buying the Carmen Electra Cardio Striptease box set. Don't judge.

Linked In, Facebook, Twitter, oh my!

Not real sure how Linked In helps you advance your career, but it sure adds to the time suckage of the other social media networks. Anything to avoid working, I always say.

karaoke cab!

I've booked the awesomeness that is the Karaoke Cab this weekend for my birthday. Apparently this guy comes to America and decides that a karaoke cab company is the way to go. (Can't say I disagree.) So it holds like 6 people and there are 6 microphones so everyone can jam. Should be hilariousness at its best. I do feel bad for the guy around 2am, though - everyone thinks they can sing better when they're drunk. Not true.

I'm thinking "We Are the World" might be a good song choice - that way each of us can have a lyric. (I call the crazy Cyndi Lauper part...)

Now means NOW

Twice in the past few months, friends have told me they have guys to set me up with. But for one reason or another, the set-ups never actually took place, and last week I learned that both guys are now dating someone. Which merely illustrates my point that there are so many more single girls out there than single guys (or at least it SEEMS that way), that the window of opportunity is very very small when a guy is newly single. All the single ladies (cue Beyonce) are ready to pounce, and the poor guy doesn't stand a chance of holding on to his single status. There was a similar situation happening at UNC when I was in school there, as it was rumored to be a 70:30 girl to guy ratio. Ouch, people. OUCH.

So. Moral of the story. If you have someone to set me up with, let's do it. Do it NOW. :)

Jake v Vienna

Um, Jake did the impossible last night: made VIENNA look like the normal one. He is a complete douche. Wow.

And we're back.

Fun times in Colorado. Where to begin...

Bridal salon. Thankfully, my mom didn't cry, but she took pictures like a crazy person. I tried on like 5 or 6, and our two favorites were the ones I had already seen in Dallas (when trying on bridesmaid dresses - I don't just stalk wedding dresses. Promise.) It was a full-service experience, complete with shoes, jewels, veil, bouquet...ha. And no, we didn't buy one. We thought about it, though.

White-water rafting. Freezing on the Fourth of July is a new experience. And we were chilled to the bone for like 24 hours. Didn't help that it rained on us the entire time. My uncle fell in - thank goodness he was the only one who took one for the team. Our guide was SUPER CUTE, and he and I flirted the whole time. Considering I had on a very unflattering helmet and wetsuit, I'm thinking he would have been pleasantly surprised had we met elsewhere. Of course, he is still in college. But hey.

Bangs. Potentially very bad idea jeans. But they will grow out. Right?? They DO cover my forehead wrinkles, though...

Then returning home yesterday some dude grabbed my suitcase by mistake and instead of checking my luggage tag, just left with it. So I had to sit at the airport for 3 hours waiting for him to come back. I DID check his bag (um, for identification, duh), and found a bunch of condoms. So there's that...