I guess I like a man with a potty mouth

I'm sure I'm a little late coming to the table on this, but I have a newfound celebrity crush: Anthony Bourdain. Found myself watching some sort of Bourdain marathon on the Travel Channel - No Reservations followed by Layover. And I think I'm in love.

Mind you, he's not all that attractive. His teeth are kind of jacked up. And he's totally gone gray. And he's kind of an a**hole. And I like it.

I loved the show Kitchen Confidential based on his life (plus it starred a pre-Sexiest Man Alive Bradley Cooper), but never really got the Bourdain-ness aside from brief douchebag appearances on Top Chef. Consider me converted, motherf*&#ers.

Internet porn and other Christmas tales

Back from a festive Christmas in Colorado. Some highlights:

*I made TWO casserole dishes, both of which were crowd-pleasers and only one of which almost caught the oven on fire. (Mini-marshmallows: who knew they were so flammable?!)

*Played in the snow - even did a cartwheel. Although I think I pulled something.

*Helped Nana with her iPad. Showed her how to pull up Youtube videos - Whitney Houston videos, in particular - and then the next time my uncle opened it up, PORN. So everyone thought I had been looking at it. Thanks a lot, Youtube.

*Grew a "magic Christmas tree" that my brother and his wife got me - and whatever the hell was in that water ate through my grandmother's marble table. Impressive.

*Got hit on by the guy cooking on the hibachi at Genghis Grill in Denver. His "move"? Flipping one of my pieces of broccoli behind his back and catching it on the plate. What a stud.

*And officially fell in love with Denver. Just sayin'.

might need to rethink the packing situation

headed to colorado today for christmas, and made the mistake of checking the weather this morning. -3. granted, it's early, but damnation that's cold. and it sucks to pack for that kind of weather - bulky sweaters take up so much room in the suitcase, but then again i don't want to wear like four sweaters to the airport because i'll pass out from heat stroke...here's hoping my nana has some nice cableknit pullovers i can borrow to stave off frostbite.

My gift to you

Some of you may already know about this gem, but if not, I ask you to please call 719-26-OATES. Do it now. And happy holidays everyone!

Just a quick question

Does Mannheim Steamroller scare anyone else a little bit? Or is it just me?

Nice, but sad

A "regular" at the gym brought like 5 dozen breakfast tacos to the gym this morning in honor of his own birthday. Thoughtful, yes. A bit odd/sad, also yes. And breakfast tacos kind of defeat the whole purpose of going to the gym in the first place. But I still took one home. Don't want to be rude...

I'll never let go, Jack.

So they're re-releasing Titanic next year. You know, because it didn't make enough money the first time around (15 years ago!!), and James Cameron knows he can hit a new tween population who is unaware of the Leo factor, being blinded by the Biebs. Wise man.

I have to admit, I saw Titanic not once, not twice, but SIX times in the theater. (Plus countless times at home.) That's like 20 hours of my life. But totally worth it. I'm sorry. Gotta hand it to the iceberg - helluva performance.

Medic...

Every year I watch the White Rock marathon, and more often than not it inspires me to run it myself. And then I get hurt. Since I don't run, it happens pretty quickly after I decide to do this.

To backtrack, I have run the marathon before. Back before the dawn of time, er, iPods - just to give you an idea of how long ago this was. Yep, I ran 26.2 miles with a damn fanny pack on, holding four mixed tapes I made to run to. And immediately after I started running, the tapes unwound and I was stuck listening to the damn radio for four and a half hours. So I completed the race, checked "marathon" off my bucket list, and promptly hung up my running shoes. No runner's high for this gal. Planned never to run again unless I was being chased.

Until late 2009. I had been fired and was pretty bored and bummed out. Watched the adorable American (well, technically born in Africa, but now an American citizen) win the NYC Marathon, and decided to run it again. Mind you, this was November 1. I had 6 weeks to train. Sure. So I started running (at least, on the weekends. I really hate running!). 9 miles. 12 miles. 18 miles. And then my hip got all jacked up. Yep, early 30s. Hip problems. Sigh. So I decided to just run the half. Which still wasn't exactly a cakewalk. But I think my body was like UM NO on the 26 miles. Ain't happening.

And here we are again. Got inspired to run the half again. Ran 6 last week and didn't want to die. Upped it to 9 yesteday. Didn't want to die. Until about an hour afterwards when my hip started to ache. And now I'm limping. Just not sure it's worth it. But I do like the medals for finishers...I know, I know - "my precious." So not sure what I'm going to do. Have until March to decide...it's all fun and games until I need a hip replacement at age 35. Stay tuned.

Ah, the generation gap

I've mentioned that my team at work consists of girls MUCH younger than me. The sweet 23-year-old bought "Overboard" for the white elephant party and of course has never seen it. (Don't worry - I think my five-minute synopsis complete with PeeWee-voiced "I like it when she goes ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba" will suffice.)

I found the elusive John Denver and the Muppets video clips on YouTube (thanks Chris) and sent her the 12 Days of Christmas link. Her comments were classic:
"Who is the guy singing?" (embarrassing side note: used to name John Denver as my favorite singer, circa 1984.)
"Who is the one with the snout?" Alarmingly, I thought she couldn't identify Miss Piggy - but equally alarming, she didn't know who Gonzo was.
"Is that Kermit's baby?" Um, no. Nephew Robin. What is WRONG with this generation.
And finally, "Are they all frogs?" Dear god. I'm buying her the complete set of Muppet movies for Christmas. If I can change one life...

Holiday cards

Tis the season - every time I open my mailbox, nestled amid the random coupons and bills are one or two holiday cards from friends, with photos of their beautiful families. I am very tempted one of these years to send a card out myself. Picture it: among all the lovely photos of smiling children and glittering trees, you get a card with my face stamped on it. Just me, solo. Slightly egotistical, I guess - but accurate. I can't even send out a cute pet card since I don't have pets. But man, I have a nice balcony view. Maybe me on my balcony. I would even go so far as to rock a Santa hat. Just spitballing here. Look for something awesome in your mailbox, circa December 2012. Save me a spot on your fridge.

Christmas TV specials

Can't turn on the TV this month without seeing some sort of Christmas special. There are old ones, new ones, and then a few classics that for some reason no longer air. A few musings:

The Old

• A Charlie Brown Christmas is still such greatness. Particularly watching how bizarro each of the Peanuts gang dances.
  


• Can't really watch anything claymation anymore (sorry, Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys) - it's honestly a bit creepy.



• Am I a horrible person to admit that I've never seen It's A Wonderful Life? I mean, I know it's on every year. But so is the Jerry Lewis telethon, and I don't watch that, either.



• Of course A Christmas Story. And my favorite movie of all time, Christmas Vacation.

The New

• Does Elf count? Who cares. It's fantastic. As is Bad Santa. Four Christmases is NOT.



• The South Park episode featuring Stan singing about being a lonely Jew on Christmas.



• Most of the new specials don't really do it for me. Probably because I'm not six. But there's also the risk of overkill. A Scooby-Doo Christmas! A Flintstone Christmas! (yes, I flipped past the Cartoon Network the other day)



• Plus the one million Lifetime TV Christmas movies. We get it.
  

The M.I.A.

• Christmas Eve on Sesame Street is a tear-jerker. At least it is for me. Big Bird gets lost and almost freezes to death trying to wait up for Santa. When I was four, that was slightly traumatizing. (And yes, it still makes me cry. Because I have it on VHS. Which is sad for many reasons.)



• There used to be a John Denver and the Muppets Christmas special. Not the CD - we own about 8 copies of that as a family - but a TV show. And dammit to hell if I have never been able to find it. Assuming the copy we had on Betamax back in the day is unusable at this point.

Here's hoping you have your own "a very special Christmas episode" which will air in reruns for years to come. We'll be right back after these messages.

I love my dead gay son!

(Props to those who identified the title of this post as a classic quote from "Heathers.")

I guess it was inevitable. Last week, a close family member asked if I was gay. (Well technically, they asked if I liked kissing boys, but that's a slippery slope right there.) Stunned, I vented to friends about it, and a few other single girls have had similar experiences with their families. WTF - I guess older generations figure there's no other possible reason ladies in their 30s are still single. Well, here's one: I refuse to settle. (And there are obviously a myriad of other reasons, but I don't have the energy or enough alcohol to get into them here.)

So in closing: I am not gay. Just picky. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Just read it for the articles

I keep hearing about Lindsay Lohan's spread in Playboy and wondered - is that where the term "magazine SPREAD" comes from? Because it sure is accurate, at least in Playboy...

But also, ew, LL. I remember in college when Playboy was recruiting on campus for their "Girls of the ACC" edition. A girl I worked with at Macaroni Grill was in it, and of course she brought in a copy for all to see. And I have to say...meh. Not all that impressive. And no, I'm not just jealous. Really.

The fuglier the better

Tonight I'm hosting my second annual Fugly Christmas Sweater Party. Thank goodness there are websites devoted to selling these things, since I was never one for wearing Christmas sweaters (unless you count the 80s, when I was too young to know any better and, well, it was the 80s). There IS a lady at work who has been wearing very festive sweaters all week - it was all I could do not to tell her about my party. I guess if you're a fan of the holiday sweater, you don't appreciate others gathering around to make fun of you. Unless you see it as "the more sweaters the better, regardless of the reason..."

Photos to come, but I plan on donning my gay apparel to the MAX: we're talking turtleneck, sweater vest, scarf, and, after a few glasses of nog, an elf hat. And I wonder why I'm still single.

Ring don't mean a thing

I heard on the news last week that the Mavericks haven't received their championship rings yet because Mark Cuban wants to consult with them on the design and he couldn't talk to them due to the lock-out, blah blah.

Well, the lock-out is now over, and may I suggest that the Mavs order something similar to the above, that covers multiple fingers like brass knuckles? Picture it: instead of "Bad," it says "MAVS," all blinged out in diamonds and rubies. Just sayin'. This could start an NBA trend.

Sigh

I got an email yesterday from our Benefits department about some new policy affecting those who are turning 35 and their spouses. So I wrote back, asking "what if I'm turning 35 and don't HAVE a spouse??" The answer: "Then you are exempt." Story of my life.

I guess it could have been worse, though - she could have responded with "Well that's just sad" or something.

Unfair to the izzo

Have two (suite) tickets and a parking pass to tonight's Kanye/Jay-Z concert - and since my dept raffles them off, I'm ineligible. Which really sucks - I would be all OVER some Watch the Throne action. Someone did burn me the CD a few weeks ago in an effort to sway the judges...so yes, freely admitting that I accept bribes. I got 99 problems but a bribe ain't one. Yep, that just happened.

The nekkid truth

A phrase commonly heard around my house growing up was "naked as a jaybird." (Actually, it WASN'T that often - we weren't nudists - and to be more accurate, it was more like "nekkid as a jaybird" with the Texas twang. Classy.)

I thought about this phrase the other day - it really doesn't make any sense. How is a jaybird any more "naked" than any other species of bird, or any other animal in general?

One that makes more sense but thinking about it as an adult is slightly jarring: "skin the cat!" My grandmother used to say this when we would raise our arms and she would pull off our clothes to get into the tub or get ready for bed. (Seriously. We weren't nudists. These are just two unrelated stories involving a lack of clothing.) I did as I was told back then, but ew - skinning a cat is gross and not exactly PETA-friendly.

Maybe I can just blame it on the South. They do all kinds of things down here that don't really make sense. Except for sweet tea. Now THAT is genius.

finally shaved my movember moustache.

and you're welcome.

Just something to be aware of

I have previously mentioned the dangers of sneezing while driving. But I discovered a new one this morning: sneezing while applying mascara. Besides the chance of poking myself in the eye, holy raccoon eyes, people. Yikes.

(And yes, one would think upon feeling a sneeze coming on, I would put down the mascara wand. But one would be wrong.)

Bowl me over

Office bowling tournament last night. Apparently this is an annual tradition and people get VERY into it. Everyone wore costumes to coordinate with their team name, and many MANY beers were drunk. The team names were actually quite clever:

The Lane Deer (all wearing reindeer antlers and blinking red noses)

The Incredibowls

Like, Totally Spare Me (80s theme)

The Pin-guins

Etc.

I wasn't consulted on our team name ("The Strike Steady Crew"??!!), but hopefully next year can prove my strengths lie in coming up with this crap (Helloooo, "Empire Strikes Back" - only if I get to be Princess Leia). As opposed to my actual bowling skills. Which are few and far between. (I did get a strike - but it was during practice. Sigh.)

Who's a big girl??

Embarrassing admissions time.

I used to not be able to swallow pills. Not even the nice gel-coated ones. I would gag and either have to opt for chewables (does anyone else think Baby Tylenol is delicious? Just me?), or suck it up and hope the pain/illness would go away on its own. Actually, in a last-ditch effort my dad DID buy me the Pill Masher (as seen on TV). That bad boy would crush up just about anything, and then my parents would hide the remnants in a spoonful of yogurt or peanut butter or something. (Um, isn't that how you get DOGS to take pills. Whatever. It worked.)

It also might come as no surprise that I still went to my pediatrician until like age 24. (Shout-out, Dr. Sue Hubbard.) So embarrassing, sitting in the waiting room over a college break and having to pretend like my CHILD was in the bathroom, since that would be the only logical reason for someone in their 20s to be in that office...not sure who to blame this on. We'll go with my mother. :)

But I am now proud to say that I can swallow pills and see an adult doctor. What a big girl.

Why are the cutest things the most impractical. (And I'm not talking about boys)

Almost bought myself a car over Thanksgiving. And yes, this was before I got home to a dead battery in my current car. My stepmom's father is selling his 1986 little red Alfa Romeo that only has 61,000 miles on it. It is seriously about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Brown leather seats. Stick shift. Cassette player. (Hey - I've been looking for a way to play all my old mixed tapes...) Literally no back seat. It is tiny. And nearly impossible to get the top back up by myself. And my hair was a disastro. (Which is my random lingo for a disaster.) But did I mention how cute it was?? I could use it as my "tooling around town" car. Not that I ever really tool around town. But maybe that's because I didn't have a car for it. Regardless, I was too afraid of what might happen to it if I drove it back to Texas, so it remains in Florida. But oh the cuteness.

thankful

things i'm thankful for: post-thanksgiving weekend edition

1. that my dad is a frequent flier: free bags both ways, plus priority access (and extra leg room in the exit row!)

2. that it was a free hbo/showtime/cinemax/encore weekend. watched so. many. movies.

3. cornbread dressing. which i made myself, thankyouverymuch.

4. the muppets. the movie was just "meh," but damn i still love those little guys.

5. that i only have to make it three more weeks before another vacation.

win-win

i'm in the exit row for my flight to florida. and apparently that means i get to check a bag for free. score. so i guess in exchange for potentially saving countless lives, i get to save $20. sounds like a fair trade to me!

This is what it's come to, apparently.

My grandmother and my mom are staying with me for a few days (in a one-bedroom apartment - good times), and the other night Nana was telling me she had a guy for me to meet. I started getting excited, since I'll be visiting them for Christmas in Colorado - hell-oooo, set-up! But my mom whispered, "he is imaginary." Well of course he is.

So apparently my love life is so pathetic that my poor 87-year-old grandmother has had to resort to creating a FICTIONAL man for me. But it doesn't stop there - she has put a lot of thought into this. Some highlights of "Steve Make-believe":

He went to UNC. But he was a senior when I was a freshman, so I didn't know him in school. (Convenient, Nana.)

He is a pediatrician, specializing in asthma. (?)

We will eventually marry and have twin boys. (This could actually happen, since I will be so old I'll be all hopped up on fertility drugs and will probably pop out multiples.)

So there you have it, folks. If anyone knows this guy, let me know. Nana wants me to meet him.

This site is hilarious.

http://fiverr.com/

It's people posting what they will do for $5. Everything from pretending to be an ex on social media sites for a week (?) to making a tough decision for you to my personal favorite, having someone dance for two minutes to a song of my choice while wearing a hot dog costume. For $5.

Thank you, Nincy, for bringing this into my life. I'll pay you $5 for it.

Doesn't bode well for my romantic future on reality television

Ali and Roberto of Bachelorette "fame" have broken up. It's almost as if finding love on television doesn't WORK! (Gasp)

And side bar: I'm forcing my mom and grandmother to watch Tough Love tonight so they can see what I'm walking into. Should be interesting. Or tragic.

A love letter. (To TJ Maxx.)

I think I have mentioned that I am something of a label whore. And most of those labels are entirely out my price range. Which is why TJ Maxx's designer department seriously rocks my world. I went in there on Saturday with noble intentions (to buy Christmas gifts for my family), and left with a LAMB top and a Catherine Malandrino dress. For WAY cheaper. In fact, the bigger the sale, the more I want it. Even if it doesn't really look very good. Just to be able to tell people "this USED to be $450. But I paid $69!" Ahhhhh.

(And yes, I bought the gifts for my fam as well. It was a win-win.)

Say hello to my little friend

So last night I was randomly pouring powdered sugar into a bowl. (Yep, super domestic.) Moving things around, a container fell into the sugar bowl, causing a huge snowstorm of powdered sugar that literally made the biggest mess I have ever seen. I cussed for a good five minutes and then tried to figure out how the hell to clean it up. At which point of course my phone rang to tell me that the elliptical repairman was on his way. Perfect. I'm on my hands and knees on the floor, surrounded by what looks like cocaine. A very Tony Montana, Scarface moment.

And P.S. - spraying 409 on spilled sugar doesn't really help. Instead it creates a hardened, sticky substance that honestly took 30 minutes to clean. And this is why I don't bake. Period.

Read em and weep. Literally.

A friend told me about this book, "The Tao of Dating." We decided it could be a beneficial read (hell, I need all the help I can get at this point), so she bought it. Plus something called "The Art of Seduction." Once I buy "When Men Love Bitches" (which IS the actual title), I think we'll be all set to kick off the saddest little book club ever. With wine of course.

Party planning

Planning the office holiday party is stressful, but DOES come with some perks. What girl doesn't like a little wining and dining? Recent excursions include:

1. Free food, bowling and games at Main Event. This was back in September and the fact that they had their Christmas decorations out and carols playing was a little trippy, but fun.

2. Free tour of the Arboretum.

3. Today, free food, margaritas and possible chair massages (although that sounds a little sketchy) at Love and War in Texas.

4. And tomorrow, free food at House of Blues.

A girl could get used to this. Of course, I have to actually PLAN something here eventually, but we've got until January...until then, more free drinks please!

Spanx for the memories

I have always avoided Spanx - they don't seem comfortable AT ALL, and I've kind of considered them to be cheating. I mean, if I can't zip up that dress on my own, why should some magic bike shorts allow me to? That's what diets (or in my case, larger sizes) are for.

But that all changed a few weeks ago, when I wore the one pair of knock-off Spanx that I own under a dress to an event - um, yes please. Amazeballs. And now I'm semi-obsessed. I want the reversible tights. I want the leggings. Maybe they make jeggings?

Guilt be gone. I'll have an extra helping of dressing at Thanksgiving - because I'll be giving thanks for Spanx.

NOT a sing-along

There are a few songs I absolutely can't stand. I literally moan when they come on the radio before I promptly change the station. (And yes, I am so old-school that I still listen to the radio, not Sirius or XM or whatever the hell the kids call it these days.)

These deal-breaker ditties include:

"Smooth" by Santana/Rob Thomas. Uggggggh.

"Yeah" by Usher/Lil John/Ludacris. Seriously? The lyrics are basically "yeah. yeah. yeah. yeah. yeah." Even I could come up with that.

(Or maybe it's more that I hate collaborations?)

Pretty much anything by J.Lo. Or the Biebs. Sorry.

"Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. "Nodding my head like yeah" is not a thing.

That's it for now. I'm sure there are many, many more.

You can tell a lot about a person by the pajamas they wear

Fire alarm went off in my building at 2:45 am Sunday morning. Wasn't just a drill - the fire department actually came - but it still meant about an hour of standing outside with a bunch of strangers - er,neighbors, the majority of us in our pj's. And it was quite a motley crew:


Hot dude with bedhead and plaid pj pants, leading one of his two adorable dogs down the stairs. (Accompanied by his live-in girlfriend, leading the other dog, in a t-shirt, shorts, and - this was the interesting part to me - patent leather wedge heels. Perhaps they were closest to the door?)


Older lady in a nice pj pants ensemble complete with silk robe.


Couple in jeans with a pizza that had just been delivered - who obviously had just gotten home.

Bunch of drunk groomsmen in matching vests and suits.


And then of course moi, in a sad little blue t-shirt with Cookie Monster's face on it and blue sweatpants. Oh, and tennis shoes. STYLIN'.

UPDATE: Fire alarm went off again at 2:45 am this morning. I think I upped the ante by wearing BLACK sweatpants and a "Frankie Says Relax" t-shirt. Yep, that happened.

Move over, Omarosa

...there's a potential new reality star in town. Okay, putting the cart WAY before the horse here, but there's a miniscule chance I could be on the next season of Tough Love on vh1. Which is a great show, btw. And it's really not a compliment that I might get cast. It's not like I'm super pretty or funny or interesting. No - it really means my love life is a disaster and a bunch of complete strangers think I need professional help (and that the nation needs to watch).

And yes, the more I think about it, the more nervous this whole idea sounds. But I won't hear anything until mid-January anyway, so no need to freak myself out just yet. Plenty of time for that when the cameras are rolling.

Scariest 30 seconds of my life

The Zoo party last weekend was actually super fun - plus I saw penguins and elephants, so that's ALWAYS a good Saturday night. But during the live auction, I had a momentary stroke when my dear co-worker, as a "joke," decided to raise my auction number for a $9,000 bid on two Centre Court tickets to the men's final at Wimbledon next year (plus two tickets to London, blah blah). I swear to you, those 30 seconds before someone bid $9,500 (which, let's be honest, was probably more like 5 seconds) were the most terrifying seconds ever. The company bigwigs at our table were all impressed, like "Wow! You're going for it?!" And I was trying not to let them see the perspiration on my upper lip. Like I have $9,000. Dear god.

And side bar: why is it that whenever I'm at a live auction (which, let's be honest again, isn't that often), I get an overwhelming desire to scratch my head. But I'm terrified to move my arms for fear that they'll think I'm bidding for something. So I just sit on my damn hands until the auction is over. Everyone is safer that way.

How about a take two??

ESPN is supporting the troops this week in honor of Veteran's Day (awesome) - and this morning I saw a promo featuring Dwight Howard thanking the troops. He said: "Thank you all for supporting us. And...(awkward pause) for supporting our country." Um. Unfortunate. Who was that first "us" referring to, if not our country?? The NBA? Sigh.

Let's do it for our country

...what a great Grease 2 song. Every time I watch it, I wonder - is Michelle Pfeiffer mortified that she was in this film. Although being a Pink Lady is never mortifying. But the title of this post is sadly not about Rydell High.

It's about the awesomeness that is the Carrier Classic: UNC v Michigan State, on Friday, Veteran's Day, on the deck of a freaking aircraft carrier, airing on ESPN. Set your DVRs.

We even have these sweet camo uniforms to wear:

And oh yeah - the freaking PRESIDENT will be there. Not of the college. Of the country.

(Side bar: he BETTER be a Tar Heel fan.) My only fear is that in the heat of (basketball) battle, someone will shove someone else right over the side of the ship, but then I think about all the hot military men who will be in the audience, and I settle back down.

Don't think it's a coincidence that USA and UNC have the same number of letters and both start with the letter "U." And now I sound like I'm on Sesame Street. So be it. And GO HEELS.

What does a girl have to do to get an elf these days??

The holiday season looms, and with my first Christmas in my new apartment rapidly approaching, I was thinking this could be the year I get a real tree. A BIG real tree. I've usually gone with two small fake trees, but in keeping with yesterday's "go big or go home" theme...

HOWEVER. Christmas isn't really the best holiday for a single person. I began to picture the scene: wandering around the Home Depot christmas tree lot by myself, touching various branches and pretending that I can tell the difference between a fir and a spruce. Sweet-talking some poor sap (whilst probably COVERED in sap) to tie the tree to my roof. Carefully pulling into the parking garage at my apartment complex to realize that I've left my scissors upstairs. Coming back down and untying the tree and realizing there is no way in HELL I can carry the thing myself, much less shove it into the bizarro christmas tree stand and make it nice and straight. (You should see the paintings I hung on the wall, thinking they were straight...) And then of course there's somehow putting the lights on it. Which I used to watch my parents do as a child, and there would always be cursing. And that was a TWO-person job. Add in the constant shedding of needles and the nightmare of taking the tree back down after the holidays, and I am getting very "Bah Humbug" about the whole situation.

That's the beauty of the pre-lit fake tree from Walmart. It's a single gal's holiday wish come true. Thanks, Santa.

Are your pants on fire? Because your ass is HOT.

Sadly, no one has ever hit me with that pick-up line (which I just made up, thankyouverymuch). But I AM wearing some fire engine red pants today. Yowza these pups are bright. En fuego, if you will. But it's a cloudy Monday, so why not. Go big or go home, I always say - even when dealing with pants.

Just doing the math

Three of my friends have had babies this week, with one more to come any day now (shout-out, KO). This morning I realized that exactly nine months ago was the infamous winter storm in Dallas that had everyone iced in for four or five days. Coincidence? I think not...



Regardless, I have to give everyone props for finding something to do to break the boredom. :)

The two most hated words in the English language (for single girls)

"And guest." (Also see: "plus one.") I have to go to this big party at the zoo (!) Saturday night with work peeps, and of course was invited to bring a date. (cue crickets chirping)

I seriously have no one. Obviously not dating anyone, and I refuse to ask someone I barely know, simply because I don't even know these work people very well and that would just lead to awkward silences and probably too many free drinks. Which then leads to Sarah losing her job. (I feel the same way about inviting a random dude to a wedding, which explains the sad yet impressive statistic that in my 34 years on earth I have never taken a date to a wedding. Not ever. )

Wouldn't even really want to make a guy friend have to go, either - although it's an awesome band and the top 25 chefs in Dallas are doing the food, so I'm sure it will be semi-fun...So that of course leaves the trusty "gal pal." Which is STILL weird because technically we'll be sitting with and hanging out with work folks and therefore I probably shouldn't bust out my best robot on the dance floor. So after asking around, I have opted for my sweet co-worker. At least she knows these people too...

Of course, I bitch about trying to find the elusive "plus one" - but it's equally painful when you're NOT "and guested" - I mean, WHAT. You don't think I could FIND a date?? (I mean, I couldn't. But you shouldn't assume. :) )

We want some mo'

Movember, that is. Lots of dudes in the office are participating in this mustache-growing, prostate-cancer-awareness-generating machine known as Movember. And I want in. The waxing ladies at my nail salon will have you believe I already DO have a mustache (I beg to differ), but in solidarity, I think I will take it a step further - and add a beard and maybe some mutton chops. We'll see how it goes. (And grows.)

And yes, totally copying my bro's mo below, yo. (I like to rhyme.)

Totally Kalled it.

The torrid love affair that was Kim and Kris is now kaput. (Yay for "k" words!) 72 days?! You couldn't have stuck it out for a more impressive 90? That's at least how long I had to work to get health insurance...

But thank god their wedding was free - that would be an unfortunate waste of $10 million. And three wedding dresses. And four hours of my time, watching the damn spectacle on TV. Here's hoping E! will put together a five-hour special documenting the divorce. Ooh - and a Lifetime TV Movie! I can see it now: "Krazytown: The Kim and Kris Story."

Na zdorovje. (God bless you.)

"Na zdorovje" is my new favorite word. It means "to your health!" in Russian (a la "Cheers!"), and I can't stop saying it. (Pronounced like "Nastarovia." Kind of.) We got our make-up done on Saturday, and my lady was a Russkie. I showed off the three words I already knew in Russian (words for "thank you," "no" and "goodbye"), and she taught me "cheers." I think this should be enough to get me by if I ever find myself in Moscow. Oh - and VODKA, of course.

A spring in my step

A co-worker told me about some place called "Jump Street" (no, NOT 21 Jump Street) which is apparently a huge warehouse full of trampolines. You go and just bounce around. An adult bouncy house, if you will. And I will. I am sooo booking a visit there, with or without Richard Greico.

Growing up, we had a big trampoline in the backyard. Hours and hours were spent double-bouncing friends off the side, doing seat drops, working up to front and back handsprings and flips. Friends and I even made up routines to music - thank you, little lavender boombox from 1986. Then in high school at one of my infamous parties, I heard rumors that people were making out on the tramp(oline - ha). And a couple drunk dudes even spent the night out there. (Sorry, mom)

I do miss the trampoline era - which is why this Jump Street place sounds amazeballs. Although I will most likely stick to seat drops. If I tried a back handspring I would most definitely wind up hospitalized.

It's the Great Halloween Costume Reveal, Charlie Brown

My candy corn sugar high indicates that Halloween is upon us once again. This year, I have the opportunity to wear three costumes in a span of two days.

I give you...


Costume #1 (at work): Super Mario Brothers. I am Luigi, apparently. (And yes, my obsession with fake mustaches continues)


Costume #2: Run DMC. Illin'.

And costume #3: Black Swan. Although I don't think I'm going to commit to the crazytown make-up. (So will sadly just look like a black-clad ballerina. Sigh.)

If I had enough time, I would have bought this guy. I think in a sea of slutty Cinderellas and Little Bo Peeps, a Gumby costume would have really stood out. Probably wouldn't land me a guy, but then again maybe it would. Halloween 2012, you have been warned.

One of the scariest sights this time of year

...is the costume aisle at Target, five days before Halloween. Unless you want to be a Ghostbuster (which would actually be awesome) or Elmo, good luck peeps. It's a bloodbath out there.

Play ball. Any kind of ball.

Aside from the Cowboys, Dallas sports are pretty much off the charts right now: the Mavericks are the reigning NBA champs, and the Rangers are a game away from winning the World Series. Love the fair weather fans who are all of a sudden die-hards (myself included) - everyone is wearing team t-shirts and hats (yes, I bought one), updating their Facebook status with sports-related posts (guilty), and just all-around jumping on the bandwagon (done).

With that said, GO RANGERS. Because in all honesty, the sooner baseball is over, the sooner college basketball is here. And that is all that really matters to me. Sorry sports fans.

G'day? G'night? Who the hell knows.

It's hard enough to schedule meetings between Dallas and Sydney on a regular basis. But I finally got it through my head that they are 15 hours ahead of us, so after doing some pretty tough math, can usually figure something out.

HOWEVER. Now they are on Daylight Savings Time and have freaking sprung forward, so it's a 16 hour difference. And as of November 6 when we go on Daylight Savings and fall back, it will be 17 hours. For the love of Pete. How in the hell am I supposed to remember this crap. Thank god for those time zone converter websites. Freaking other side of the world - literally.

It's Jerry's World, we're just living in it

Went to the Cowboys game yesterday - so freaking fun. I had only been to the new stadium once before, and that was for a basketball game. And I wasn't in a suite. Which might be how I roll from now on. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We got to Arlington super early, for a few reasons. 1. we were stupid excited. 2. the Rangers were playing as well, so we were super-nervous about traffic. 3. we didn't really know where we were going. We passed a few parking lots that were $80(!) and decided to move farther away from the stadium. Which was a good call - $20 lot! Much more my speed. I should also add that there were so. Many. People. Just crowds and crowds on every corner, all pretty much wearing the same outfit (Cowboys jersey and jeans). Which I of course was NOT wearing.

We hoofed it over to the stadium and hit the Legends Club before even finding our suite. Because we could. They slapped on our wristbands and we headed to the bar. Free food and drinks all day? You betcha. Then we found our suite - with a private bathroom! - and settled in for some football action.

At halftime we went down to the "event level" (aka the field, which I accidentally called "the court" at one point) to watch the players run back out. Pretty cool. But even cooler was seeing a glimpse of Chace Crawford...sigh.

The good guys won, which was thrilling, and we started placing bets for how long it would take to get home, considering World Series traffic. I was down for an hour and a half, my friend said two hours. As it turned out, the only semi-nightmare came when walking to my car - we passed by these shady apartments and these guys were beating on the gate screaming at us. Thank god it was still light outside - I would have been sprinting if it was dark. There was oddly zero traffic, and we were home in like 20 minutes.

All in all, an awesome day. Really put the "funday" in Sunday. And yes, my wristband is still on. In case I can still access free drinks somewhere.

Just call me Sporty Spice

Sports-tastic weekend coming up. Top Golf tonight, watching the UNC football game tomorrow, then watching the Rangers, and topping it off with tickets to the Cowboys game on Sunday. (Make that luxury SUITE tickets. Thanks to my office.) All I need is to squeeze in a tennis date and the majority of sports will be represented.

I used to joke that the trunk of my car was like an Oshman's - I had tennis rackets, tennis balls, a soccer ball (?), shin guards (??), a field hockey stick (seriously) and Rollerblades back there at one point. (I am proud to say I now just ride around with the tennis gear. Much more likely to come upon a court than a field hockey game that needs an extra player.)

And I wonder why guys I go out with often put me in the "sporty friend zone" instead of safely in "girlfriend material zone." Argh. Now I want to go punch something. See?? More sports!!

Take a whiff of this

Found these awesome smelly markers at the office - dang they smell good. And totally bring back memories. Brown=best, if anyone is keeping score.


But these markers made me think of something ELSE awesome from the 80s...

Scratch n sniff stickers! I would collect these bad boys on my Trapper Keeper. Or trade them at lunch. And no one wanted the skunk sticker. Who are the ad wizards that came up with that one.
(And looking at these again - the boot one probably doesn't smell all that great, either. Random.)

An ego boost bust

We sent a survey to our company's global employees yesterday, requesting feedback about a recent quarterly meeting. One of the questions is open-ended, asking for additional comments. And one of the answers that came back was "I love you." Now, the three girls on my team were just giddy (yes, myself included) - WHO has a secret admirer?! We all fessed up that none of US wrote it, so that just left a myriad of cute boys (or girls, I suppose) in the office to be the culprit.

Unfortunately, the surveys are anonymous and all we had to go on was an IP address. But one girl I work with is a super-sleuth, and we soon came to the sobering discovery that the love note came from none other than our Shanghai office. Where they probably didn't even understand the question.

Sigh.

Na na na na hey hey hey goodbye

Signing off of Match. Again. And a month early. Just can't take it anymore. Sorry to all you dudes who I sent clever emails to and who never responded - you missed your chance. (Yeah, that's it.) And for those of you who I lamely winked at and didn't respond - that wasn't just dirt in my eye. I was interested. Key word being "was." Suck it, losers. This should really free up my time for more worthy pursuits like re-learning the Thriller dance. Just in time for Halloween.

Yet another show about singledom. Score!

VH1 has a new show, "Why am I Still Single?" - which is basically a poor man's "Millionaire Matchmaker." On this week's premiere episode, one of the singles the matchmaker was trying to help was a 25-year-old girl. I'm sorry - do you want to know why you're still single? BECAUSE YOU'RE 25!!! There should be an age restriction on these shows - no one under 30. Sheesh.

"Why am I Still Single?" Perhaps the better question is, Why am I Still Watching??

Love me some trips

Have some fun trips coming up - and some that I hope to be able to make happen...

Florida - Thanksgiving
Colorado - Christmas
Vegas - girls' weekend
Colorado - girls' ski trip
New Orleans - FINAL FOUR, BITCHES

And then possibly a trip to NC to see a game (conveniently scheduled around a work conference to get the airfare paid for) and another trip with a friend in the coming weeks. Mama needs a day off. Or five.

Death by lettuce

Only I could give myself food poisoning. Pretty impressive stuff, I have to say. Can't blame it on bad sushi or uncooked meat from the hole-in-the-wall Mexican place...nope, I get sick from a bag of freaking lettuce. Sigh. Maybe this healthy eating thing has got to go. Although I would probably get a whole OTHER kind of sick from eating chili cheese fries. Ew.

Just Desserts

My mom always says I embarrass too easily. Plus I'm a blusher, which makes things even MORE embarrassing. And apparently now I can humiliate myself without anyone else's help. Exhibit A: On Wednesday, we had a bake sale fundraiser for Susan G Komen for the Cure. (why do I write "Race for the CUTE" every time?!) I volunteered to bake cupcakes, and was thrilled to note that a guy I have a crush on was also bringing baked goods. (All together now: Awwwwww.)

So I'm working my little bake sale shift, and noticed the table with pies/cakes up for auction. One of them was a tiramisu, made by the Office Crush. Fancy. No one had bid anything yet, so I decided to take one for the team (who are we kidding here - it was for MYSELF. Screw the team) and placed the opening bid on his tiramisu. $20. And had to include my name and phone number. Right after I did it, I realized how embarrassing this could be. I was basically PAYING him (ok, via charitable donation) to notice me. Plus- would I have to return the lovely dish it came in and strike up some random and likely embarrassing convo? Oh the humanity.

Thank god someone bid $25 and took home the tiramisu. My head doesn't need the stress, and my waistline doesn't need the calories. So it's a win-win.

It's Pat.

Watched an old episode of SNL over the weekend. Circa 1998.

Host: Ben Affleck. Pre-veneers and tanning.

Special guest: his girlfriend, Gwyneth Paltrow (!).

Weekend Update: Colin Quinn (!!).

Sample sketch: Mango.



I guess 1998 was longer ago than I thought. Sure makes me miss the SNL cast I grew up with - Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, David Spade...

M is for Muppet

Could I BE more excited about the new Muppet movie? No, I could not. I have always held a particular fondness for these felt and fur puppets - in fact, that used to be my dream job, to be the voice of a Muppet. (Still is, actually.)

I personally like Beaker the best, but also have a soft spot for Miss Piggy (duh). And then there's the Swedish Chef...damn you Jim Henson and your evil genius.

The Muppets starred in a theater ad I saw over the weekend about shutting off your phone during the movie, and the entire audience was laughing. See? Still funny.

I leave you with this super-random quote from The Great Muppet Caper, in which the Muppets are going down a check-list of the weirdo things they are bringing on their mission.

"Rubber chicken?"

"Check."
"Wax lips?"
"I left 'em in my other pants."
"You don't GOT no other pants."

Still gets me every time.

I hope my mom (er, Santa) reads this

I am only slightly embarrassed to announce what I want for Christmas this year.

Yep. An electric keyboard. Which ironically I already got for Christmas. In 1986. But lameness be damned - I will rock it. The iPad app that turns the screen into a piano has me hooked, and since it will only allow me to play like three notes at a time, I need something bigger. Something better. Something...CASIO.

Either that or a keytar. Or Keytar Hero. Now I'm just talking crazy.

I blame Bobby Brown for this

Writing up an important email for my new boss about the hiring of a new executive. Accidentally wrote "pleased to announce a new EDITION to our team..." Um what. New Edition? Really. Sad. Thank god I read it over before sending...

What's next - a Very Kardashian Kristmas??

Watched the two-hour Kim Kardashian wedding special last night. And since that didn't even get us to the wedding day, of course there is a part two, which is ANOTHER two hours. Four hours of this?? That's longer than I thought the marriage would last. (Ba dum bum)

My thoughts thus far:

Kris Humphries is a complete douchebag. What an immature moron. Plus he looks like a neanderthal. (I know, why don't I tell you what I really think, right??)

Bruce Jenner needs to get rid of the earring, stat.

Hermes dishes? Seriously???

And finally, Rob Kardashian is a total waste of space. The only thing they have him doing is binge eating? Get a job, my man.

Alright. Now my palate is klean (see what I did there?) and I'm ready for round two. Sigh.

Final tennis score: Love Love. (aka double zero.)

Yep, not a match with the tennis date. We started hitting and he immediately came over and gave me unsolicited tennis tips. I am freakishly competitive when it comes to sports, and that just annoyed the CRAP out of me. Sent me into a downward spiral that it was hard to get out of. Even more so when he started hitting the ball as hard as he could - I just stood there most of the time, staring at him. Like I'm supposed to return that? I'm a girl, dude. Then he served like 5 balls in rapid succession, and one hit me square in the back. Hard. And the final dealbreaker came when he pulled me aside and said that his shorts with the built-in underwear felt "weird." I believe my exact response was, "mmm-kay...."

You can't make this stuff up! (Sometimes I wish you could.)

You know, that OTHER asteroid movie

For some random reason, the Aerosmith "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" video was on vH1 at the gym this morning. Ah, Armageddon. Ah, 1998. I remember the summer that movie came out - I was living in Jackson Hole with three (sometimes four) friends from high school. In a one-bedroom apartment. Seriously. I shared a bed, one girl slept in the closet...yet it was sheer awesomeness. And then Armageddon came out. For some reason it affected us on a deeper level - so deep that we bought not one, but TWO Ben Affleck posters (posters. seriously?!) of him in his orange flight suit and put them up in the apartment. Wow.

And then on the drive back to Dallas, we named our cars "Freedom" and "Independence" after the two shuttles in the movie. This was before the dawn of the cell phone (yep, I'm that old), and for some (awesome) reason we had Sony My First Walkie-talkies. So that's how we kept in touch between cars. "Freedom? This is Independence. Pull over at the next exit." (Of course, it only worked when we were literally right in front of each other on the highway, but still. We thought we were pretty cool.) Ah, the 90s. Such simpler times.

I even got a souvenir lanyard

Had to attend a conference on Tuesday and Wednesday. I say "had to" - some might say it's better than being at work...heard keynotes from the CEO of Southwest Airlines and the CEO of Zappos, plus, you know, an astronaut. (Who talked about tweeting from space - nice. And was totally cute - double nice.) So it didn't suck. And totally made me want to work for either Southwest or Zappos. Probably not the end result my boss was hoping for when she paid for my registration...

But Zappos has a Chief Happiness Officer! I could sooo do that job.

ironically, "love" means zero in tennis

i have yet another first date tonight, and it's the third tennis date i've been on in a month. not sure why this has become a trend - okay, yes i do. perhaps i mentioned that i like all sports in my online profile, and perhaps one of those was tennis. which is true. but perhaps i'm somehow giving off the impression that i'm actually good at tennis. which i actually might be if i played more than twice a year.

so there's the silver lining here: even if these dates don't go anywhere, at least my tennis game will improve...(and i get to wear my cute tennis outfits. bonus.)

The Name Game

Why I like to name inanimate objects around the house, I don't know. Maybe it's because I don't have a baby or a pet to name, so something's gotta give. Having said that, I am proud to present...

HARRY ELEFANTE (please tell me someone has heard of Harry Belefonte. If not, please disregard.)



COW BELLA (as opposed to "ciao, bella"...)




...and my personal favorite, STING RAY CHARLES. (You know, like Ray Charles? But it's a sting ray?!)

You know, if I have to explain these things, it's a serious problem. Although the fact that I've GIVEN these names out already qualifies as a serious problem, so no worries.

Smartypants

Dear driver of the Smart car:

Bad news. The car isn't that smart. It's freakishly small and I'm sure eco-friendly, but it cannot solve calculus equations (neither can I), nor can it actually drive for you. I speak from experience, having almost had a head-on collision with one yesterday. Pardon me, sir - do you think because your Smart car is so small, no one else can SEE you? It's not an invisible car. You're not Wonder Woman. (I know, it was an invisible jet - but I'm on a roll.)

So you in that teensy tiny car - it may say "Smart" on the engine (or maybe not - I do not know anything about auto mechanics. BUSTED.), but you still have to actually abide by the laws of the road.

Ironically, my smart PHONE is truly smarter than me. Although after reading this blog post, that's not saying much.

And now I'm craving Smarties. Thank goodness it's Halloween candy season.

This little piggie...

So exciting news, folks. After 2 months of being a lovely navy/black color (all on its own, no nail polish needed), my poor toenail finally said sayonara over the weekend. Losing a toenail is pretty gross. I won't go into any details, but I'm just left with the question - what do I do now? Paint on the skin? For now, it's band-aid city. Luckily, it's finally cool enough to start wearing closed-toe (close-toed? hmmm) shoes. Maybe by spring this little piggie won't be too embarrassed to appear naked. IN SANDALS, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.

And sadly, this was the most exciting thing that happened to me this weekend. Oink.

I should be in movies. Okay, maybe just commercials.

Specifically, the Match commercials. But not because I have found my soul mate - no no. Because I would tell the truth. Warts and all. And there are lots of warts, people.

Wonder which scenario they would want me to start with: the fact that both dates I had this week cancelled at the last minute? Or that the guy I had gone on 5 (sober and make-out free, yet still fun) dates with fell off the face of the earth? Or there's always the creepy older dude who emailed me about coming over to his place while he cooked me spaghetti and I could lie in his tanning bed...

Now THAT'S an infomercial I would stay up to watch. :)

Wow. Rhyming names.

Mike Myers just had a son and named him "Spike." So it's Mike and Spike. They should've gone with "Ike" - at least then they could enjoy the candy. (Mike and Ike's. Keep up, people.)

No wonder I'm single

I get a weird joy out of getting to work so early that the toilets in the ladies room haven't been used (which I know because the seats are still up from the cleaning crew). It's like a fresh start to the day. Um, literally.

Yep. Weird.

It's Tyra's world, we're just living in it

As an avid America's Next Top Model fan (or ANTM, for those in the know), I have to wonder what gives Miss Tyra the right to just make up words. A few seasons ago it was "smize" (smile with your eyes). And last night? "Tooch." As in "booty tooch." Which apparently means sticking out your butt in pics. Mine tooches all by itself, Tyra. Take THAT to the bank.

It had to happen sometime

In my "illustrious" 6-year career (on and off, people. on and off) on Match, I have never received the "thanks, but no thanks" email they recommend you send to someone you're not interested in. No, I usually get radio silence, which happens to be my preferred method of avoidance.

But that all changed last night, when I got my first "thanks, but no thanks" response from a guy. Match tries to make it less humiliating by saying "they don't know what they're missing!" which is debatable, but the fact remains that I much prefer never hearing a word back. Take a note, future dumpers. That way I can just pretend they never got my email. Ignorance is bliss. Especially on the dating scene.

:)

Not a good sign when...

...you think you only have one more month left on Match and find out you actually have TWO. Apparently this has been the longest month in the history of months. Oof.

Officially The. Most. Random. Post. Ever.

For some reason, I started humming Yankee Doodle yesterday. (See? RANDOM.) But I sadly realized I couldn't remember the words. Thanks to Google, I read them. And I'm sorry - the lyrics are weird.

Exhibit A: "Mind the music and the step and with the girls be handy." HANDY? As in "let me come over and caulk your tile" handy? Or as in handsy?

Exhibit B: "There we saw the men and boys as thick as hasty pudding." Really not sure what

was going on down at Captain Gooding's camp, but it sounds a little shady. Plus who knows WHAT'S in hasty pudding.

Exhibit C: "There was Captain Washington, upon a slapping stallion..." Just providing some interesting visuals. That's all I'm saying.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make macaroni. You know, by sticking a feather in my cap or something.

Signs of fall: leaves changing color, boots (!), new season of TV

And since those first two don't hit Dallas until late October, I can focus all my energies on new TV shows. What I'm loving so far: Ringer (Sarah Michelle Gellar! And I didn't even watch Buffy!), Revenge (although already fairly confused), and Up All Night (I could watch Will Arnett peel carrots and would laugh). Halfway through Charlie's Angels, which is okay, but I prefer the movie. Sadly haven't gotten around to Pan Am yet, but seeing those tiny uniforms, I'm sure it will just make me feel fat.


Did NOT like Whitney, Free Agents or The Playboy Club. Which also made me feel fat.


Hopefully this will save you some space on your DVR. :)

Because it's Friday...

I will leave you ladies (or hell, dudes too - he's THAT good-looking) with this image. Although imagine how awkward the photographer's instructions must have been: "Yes! Ryan! Let's get one of you eating your shirt! HOT!"

I mean really.

Kind of bugs when people at work ask you to do something and you do it. And then they get mad because you moved too quickly??? So apparently they were just kidding about the request? I am one of those "get 'er done" type people - it's one less email in the inbox to deal with. So make a note, peeps: don't ask me to do something today if you really don't want it done until next week. Or for god's sakes specify that in the first place. Sheeeeesh.

Getting down from my soapbox now. Sorry.

I swear I thought of it first.

Since last year, there have been a lot of photos of models rocking knee socks that poke out the top of their tall boots. (Pardon the Lindsay Lohan picture, but she IS wearing them...)

Love the look, but I can proudly say I no longer own knee socks. (And actually just got a flashback of visiting Hockaday in 4th grade and my mom made me wear a sweater vest, wool shorts and knee socks. It's a MIRACLE they let me in. But I digress...)

So I thought of an idea - cut off the tops of regular dress socks and pull them up above the boot so it just LOOKS like you have on tall socks. Kind of like a dickey for your shins. And sure enough, I was at DSW yesterday and they already sell them. "Boot cuffs." In a bajillion cute fabrics and colors.

Curses. Foiled again.

It's a couch! It's a pillowcase! It's a...

...perfect example of why drunk shopping is a bad idea.

Yesterday I wore a dress that I bought while tipsy a few weeks ago - didn't try it on, it was a whopping $24, so I took it. And it was actually cute. But the whole drunk shopping idea can be dangerous - as seen above.

This optical illusion/eye-sore is part of a SUIT (yes, a suit) that I bought like 10 years ago when I was drunk. In Las Vegas. At some random store in the Mandalay Bay casino. What on earth. All I can say is that I have never worn the jacket and skirt together - just feel it would be a disservice to mankind. And of course to fashion.

So take it from me: don't drink and shop. You could wind up with a pinstriped floral doozy like I did. And that's just something you can't get over.

How many blondes does it take...

...to take a freaking picture. More than just me, apparently.

Recently my phone hasn't been letting me upload photos onto Facebook. (A real tragedy, I assure you.) So on Saturday at the SMU tailgate (er, boulevard) I decided to rely on a tried-and-true manuever that has worked for me since the days of the Atari computer - take the battery out and blow on it, then restart the damn thing. So I did, and voila! The photo quickly uploaded.

Feeling pretty confident in my technical skills, I was then asked to take another photo for a friend. Imagine my surprise to find that the lens was completely black. I could literally see nothing. I fiddled with it for about an hour and then came to the unfortunate conclusion that I was a total moron. When I put the phone back together, I put the new-ish cover back on - upside down - and it was completely covering the camera lens.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I'll be here all week!

Yay me.

This marks my 800th blog post. Who knew I had so much crap to say?! (And also, who knew there would be a random yet totally appropriate image out there just for this occasion?!)

I should probably wait and celebrate my awesomeness at the 1,000th post, but hell - that will be like a year from now. And I'm feeling awesome TODAY, dammit.

Although it's really not all that impressive - this is truly the Seinfeld of blogs. A blog about nothing. (And yes, watching twice-daily Seinfeld reruns this month has brought it back into the forefront.) But, like Seinfeld, I hope to someday leave my mark on society. And when I hear someone, somewhere say "amazeballs," I know I've done something. Not something good, mind you - just...something.

So here's to 800 more! (Okay, who are we kidding. This will have to stop eventually.)

Why can't I quit you. (Steve Perry)

For some reason I have been obsessing over "Oh Sherrie" lately. Can't get enough. Maybe it's Steve's awesome mullet in the video...yep, that's probably it.

FNL FTW

Finally! Friday Night Lights gets some Emmy love!! Of course, the show is now over, and Connie Britton should have won for best lead actress, but hey. At least they won something. Could have also used a token Tim Riggins shirtless shot, but now I'm just nitpicking.

Clear eyes, full hearts! And of course, Texas forever.

Emmy sidebar: Does Rob Lowe age AT ALL. What in the world.

IKEA. A four-letter word?

Going to IKEA today for the very first time. And I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. It opened a few years ago, but I heard such horror stories about the crowds and the parking that I stayed the hell away. But now I need a rug. Plus I'm a bit intrigued by the Swedish giant. (And the Swedish chef, but that's another story.)

So going to brave it over my lunch break. I feel like giving myself a time limit should help me spend less and attempt to find my way back to my car faster. I'm telling my co-workers that if I'm not back by 3, I've gotten lost and they need to come find me.

Wish me luck.

The smell of success. Or cupcakes.

I am something of a health nut. Don't eat fried food, chocolate, fast food...basically I'm a thrill a minute. But I am human, and like the taste of all that stuff. And particularly the SMELL of all that stuff. Which is why my bathroom is stocked with lotions and potions that reek of sugar. Brown sugar and fig? Check. Cinnamon pumpkin? Check check. Sugar cookie? Of course. I also have the matching candles. So you walk into my place, have an overwhelming aroma of vanilla slap you in the face, and assume there are cookies baking, a la June Cleaver. And then I pass around carrot sticks. Man I'm going to be a fun mom.

Victory, however short-lived

I love those free Showtime/HBO weekends. Although I never realize it until late Sunday afternoon, when I have wasted two perfectly good days of free movies.

Had a similar experience yesterday - all of a sudden, I could access Match.com at work. (It is usually banned, forcing me to actually do work.) I had a feeling it was a fleeting achievement, and I was right - I tried to get on later and got the all-too-familiar "DENIED" screen.

Ah, well - fun while it lasted.

On a Mission. For Missoni. (See what I did there?)

Love love love when Target collaborates with a fancypants designer and offers stuff that I could usually never afford at much more affordable prices. Like today. The dynamic duo: Missoni and Target. Super excited. Apparently I'm not the only one - the stores were cleaned out by 8:30am, and Target.com has been down all day. But I persevered and finally got through. (Another super-productive day at work, obviously.) Such a genius marketing ploy - once you finally get on the site, you feel obligated to buy something. Or was that just me.

Regardless, my Missoni rain boots and sweater dress should be arriving soon. And then I will look identical to everyone and their dog, who bought the same things. Whatev.

Best diet plan ever

...is looking at Halloween costumes online. Could these outfits BE any shorter/tighter/sluttier? (Answer: no.) I have recently refused to get sucked in to the sexy costume craze, and have instead worn "guy" costumes: Bret Michaels, Tom Cruise in Risky Business, Goose from Top Gun, and last year, Rocky. But methinks it might be time to get on the Halloween hoochie train.

Toot toot.

Holy Boot Camp, Batman

Bought a Groupon for a month of boot camp which kicked off today. Or should I say BUTT-kicked off day. Because it kicked my butt. And this one girl almost fainted about four times. I kept making her sit down, and eventually she vanished. I was seriously afraid that she passed out on the street somewhere, but she finally emerged when the class was over. Smart girl. Going back Wednesday - assuming I can move. And you know what happens when you assume...

Waterproof mascara. Stat.

Just when I thought I had cried all my tears for 9/11, yesterday turned out to be quite the sob-fest, 10 years later. Hit me first driving to the grocery store in the morning - the station was playing all patriotic songs, all the time (ah, Lee Greenwood's Proud to be an American. And followed by Whitney Houston's version of the Star-Spangled Banner? I was a goner.).

I semi-pulled it together (got out of the grocery store right before their "moment of silence," which I'm sure would have brought out the waterworks), and was doing okay for most of the afternoon, but then started watching the re-broadcast of A Concert for New York on vH1, and totally lost it. And then lost it again watching a Dateline special while lying in bed last night. Which meant I couldn't sleep. Thank god for seemingly constant reruns of Friends on Nick at Nite.

I'm a poster-making fool. Or maybe just a fool.

Our office is taking cookies from Tiff's Treats to a local firehouse today in honor of the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I made some tragic posters to bring along that say things like "USA!" and "Thank You, Heroes!" - hell, I even put little gold star stickers all over them. And therefore we will be telling the firemen and women that children of our employees made them. Although that's probably degrading to kids, who could no doubt make much better posters.

Slight poster-ish tangent: while shopping for the supplies, I saw colored paint pens which write on car windows. I know this is not exactly a new invention, since I always see cars in Highland Park boasting about "Seniors 2027!", but growing up we used white SHOE POLISH, people. (Which of course we already owned to shine up the saddle shoes...) I haven't shoe polished anyone's car since then - oh, except for my mom's 50th birthday. ("Honk! I'm 50!" She was not amused.)

And now that I'm talking about it, I would really like to shoe polish someone's car here in the next month or so. Just a heads up.

False advertising, much?

Okay, this is slightly embarrassing to admit, but here goes. I logged onto Pandora this morning, and the background screen was a giant ad for Match.com. (aka a bunch of dudes' headshots.)
There were four photos highlighted, suggesting they lived in Dallas. All four were ridiculously hot and I was like, "hmmm - haven't seen THESE guys before!" And so...yes. I am officially the girl who logged onto Match and typed in all four screen names. And no, they are not real profiles. Actually, two ARE real, but they both live in Hollywood. So we can assume they are actors. Sigh. Sounds about right. Fooled again. Match, 1. Sarah, 0.

New Obsession

...Pinterest. Dear god. Someone invited me to join last Friday and I swear I was hypnotized for 4 hours. (Not the most productive day at work.)

However, I'm not amused that every time I pin something, it winds up on Facebook. (That's what she said.)

I think that's ILLEGALLY Blonde...

Reese Witherspoon got hit by a car while jogging yesterday?? Sucks to be the person who runs over America's Sweetheart...

Kind of like a game of chess. Ish.

You know how when you go to the movies, you try not to sit right next to someone, unless you CAME with that person? (Although I believe it's guy code not to sit next to your buddy, period. Gotta leave some room in-between. Whatev.)

Well, the same pretty much goes for the bathroom stalls. I always think it's so funny how no one really wants to get the stall right next to someone else. There's an eye roll and a sigh when nothing else is open. Or maybe that's just lil' germaphobic me.

You just can't make this stuff up

Got an awesome Match email over the weekend. Horrible grammar and spelling, but to be fair, the guy was from Germany so I will cut him some slack. But not much. He said he was currently living in San Jose, California, but would be moving soon to "YOUR TOWN! Would like to meet up when I get to YOUR TOWN!"

Um. Form letter, much? I'm assuming he sent this to a bunch of girls, and if anyone writes back, he will in fact be moving to their town. Those Germans - ballsy.

Also got an email from a guy telling me he had briefly looked over my pictures, and had married (and divorced!) me in his mind. And thanked me for the imaginary memories. He is letting me keep our home in Hawaii, which is thoughtful - but why did we get divorced?!

I know you are all sooooo jealous that this is how I spend my time. :)

Finally drank the Kool-aid

...bought an iPad. And I pretty much have no idea what to do with it. Suggestions welcome.

Awesome song lyric in 3...2...1...

Come on baby, show some class
Why you want to move so fast
We don't have to take our clothes off
To have a good time
Oh no
We could dance and party
All night
And drink some cherry wine
Uh huh

Ah, Jermaine Stewart. Singing the (unofficial) purity pledge anthem.

Not exactly subtle, are we?

Love the ladies who work at nail salons. They don't BS around - tell it like it is. Went last night to get manis/pedis for a friend's bachelorette party, and my manicurist took one look at me and said, "Eyebrow wax." It really wasn't a question, more of a directive. Yes, it's been a while since I'd had one - but no one else in our group was even asked!! So of course I was guilted into saying yes, at which point she told me I needed a lip wax, as well: "long hair!" Um, it's BLONDE, lady. Not like I'm sporting a porn 'stache or anything...sheesh. So I turned that one down, but believe me when I say I looked at myself in the mirror for like half and hour when I got home, and might be going back this weekend for the rest of the waxing whirlwind.

That's how they getcha: tear you down and make you pay to build yourself back up. Genius, really.

Found a perfect place for Most Eligible Dallas to film...

...Glass. Went there over the weekend, and it was pretty much what I expected: Douche-ville. First of all, $10 to valet. Never a good sign. Plus you feel obligated to stay for a while to justify the price of parking...so we did. Gave it the ol' college try. And failed out after a semester.

All the girls there (waitresses included) were wearing the shortest, tightest "dresses" (probably shirts) I have ever seen. And sky-high stripper heels. (I'm sure any guys that read this are running over there right now...)

You couldn't sit down anywhere because every booth in the place was "reserved," although it was 10:30 and empty...

There was no sign on the bathroom doors indicating which was guys and which was girls. I was praying that it wasn't an Ally McBeal unisex situation, but luckily we guessed correctly and found the ladies room.

Glasses of wine were $14, but oddly the specialty drinks were a "steal" at $10, so we settled on a random Skinny Berry Guava something-or-other that I sipped on all night because hell if I was going to drop more than $20 on drinks. No ma'am. Not this cheapskate.

We attempted to make conversation with a few dudes, but nothing came of it, so we did what all girls do in that situation: hit the dance floor. Oddly I did know a few of the songs - kind of assumed it would be all house/techno with no words - but after that, we felt we had done all we could do, and got the hell out of there. (Of course, had to check myself in on Facebook beforehand. Because that's what I do.)

But long story short(ish), I think the cast of Most Eligible Dallas would be uber comfortable at Glass. It's their kind of people. Not mine. You're welcome, Bravo producers.