Monday, December 19, 2005

My Eating Habits.

Cheese Nachos
Cheese Pizza
Macaroni and Cheese (homemade, not boxed)
Donuts - Glazed, White Frosted, White Frosted with sprinkles
Hard Candies of all sorts
All Cheeses (except those specifically listed under the 'dislikes' tab)
Most dead animals
Vanilla Yogurt with Gummi Bears
Pretzels - extra salty

Crumbly Cheeses, Feta Cheese, Bleu Cheese, Goat Cheese
American Cheese
Any cheese melted on any type of bread, specifically; Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, Cheeseburgers Tuna Fish (canned)
Bananas (only in quiet places)
Icecream with nuts in it
Cookies with nuts in it
Donuts with nuts on it
Brownies with nuts in it
Salad with nuts in it
Fast Food Hamburgers (not that I have ever had one)
Almond Joy and all other cocnut candies
Black Licorice
Beans (excluding refried)
Peas and most other green veggies

I will update this list as often as possible.

Just to give you an idea of a daily meal plan for me, today I have had:

1 dozen donut holes
2 donuts - 1 glazed, 1 frosted with sprinkles
A pretzel stick
2 peppermints
A roll of Lifesavers
2 Poptarts (1 package is 2 Poptarts)
And a slice of Banana Nut Bread (which I spit out becuase I was unaware there were nuts in it)

My dinner will most likely consists of pasta of some sort.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

From the desk of Ms. Miliner...

This is what she does all day long:

And that, my dears, is why we keep her around.

According to Dr. A.R. Dykes of the British Institution of Structural Engineers 1976

Monday, December 05, 2005

Mildy offensive material:

A few Happy Holiday Treats from your pal Christy...

A message from our sponsor:

And the lyrics from the all-time WORST Christmas song...EVER. Every Christmas, at my parents church, a huge white man sings this song at the Christmas service. The song is good, the lyrics are good, the singing is good. What is HORRIBLE about this song is that it is sung by a white man...we can barely control our laughter. It is HORRENDOUS.

Sweet little Jesus Boy,
they made you be born in a manger.
Sweet little Holy Child,
didn't know who You was.
Didn't know you come to save us,
Lord;to take our sins away.
Our eyes was blind,
we couldn't see,
we didn't know who You was.
Long time ago, you was born.
Born in a manger low,
Sweet little Jesus Boy.
The world treat You mean, Lord;
treat me mean, too.
But that's how things is down here,
we didn't know t'was You.
You done showed us how,
we is trying.
Master, You done showed us how,
even when you's dying.
Just seem like we can't do right,
look how we treated You.
But please, sir, forgive us Lord,
we didn't know 'twas You.
Sweet little Jesus Boy,
born long time ago.
Sweet little Holy Child,
and we didn't know who You was.

White man, singing THAT song. HI-sterical.

Sunday, November 27, 2005


Email from a co-worker about people who can't just relax and have a good time:

-----Original Message----->
From: Beto (Beto) (HO)
Sent: Tuesday, November 22, 2005 9:07 AM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: RE: turkey day

Well they don't know how to live then.

I'm thinking I will start some kind of new organization for those kind of people. I need to think of a cool name first like "Ethical Americans Together Practicing On Obstructing Pleasure" or EATPOOP for short.

Yeah that's it.

-----Original Message-----
From: Christy (CM)
Sent: Tuesday, November 22, 2005 8:57 AM
To: Beto (Beto) (HO)
Subject: RE: turkey day

Haha - I know, but there are some people who don't understand about having> a little bit of fun...

Ext. 2493

Wednesday, November 23, 2005


Yup, you heard me right. Roophies. Rohipnol - or however you spell it. I had some dental work done on Friday, and as most people who know me know, I am absolutely horrified of the dentist (along with pretty much everything else in the world). At my last appointment, the doc was telling me about the procedure - I was supposed to be getting a crown done. He was telling me about the TV that I could watch the whole procedure on...yada yada yada. My response to that was,"If I can see a TV in the room, you haven't given me enough drugs". So, he says, we'll give you something fantastic. Stronger than valium - much stronger - and it will make you sleepy. GREAT!

Well, since it is a controlled substance, you can only get it the day before and it requires about 37 signed papers from the doctor. So, on Thursday, I go get the prescription - my doc asks if I have a boyfriend. I think this is wierd. I say no. He says that is too bad becuase I could have had a lot of fun drugging him and then taking advantage if I had one. Hahahaha. ARE you kidding me?

There are specific instructions on what to take and when. There are 2 types of pills. One bottle has 3 pills in it - we will call them red pills. One bottle has 2 pills in it - we will call them blue pills. I am supposed to take on red pill before I go to bed on Thursday night to help me sleep well. Then a red and a blue pill an hour and half before my appt on Friday. That leaves an extra red pill and an extra blue pill. So, I decide that I should OBVIOUSLY take those too.

Ed picks me up, apparently, takes me to the dentist...I get some work done, apparently, and Kate picks me up to take me home. All I remember of the appointment is me trying to stick my tongue in the hole where the cavity once was, and then the dentist getting angry that I won't stop. But that's it.

I know that I fell asleep on the couch when I got home. I know that at some point I thought it would be a good idea to light candles. Oh yea, roophied girls and fire - good combo!! I moved to my bed and slept there for awhile. I remember a few bits and pieces from Friday night, but thats about it. I think I "drunk dialed" a few people....never a good idea.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, there were Taco Bell wrappers all over the kitchen that Donny the Dog had dug out of the trashcan. I didn't know where they came from. Later, Janelle called. She said she had been over the night before and brought Taco Bell. Oh good. I had a friend over and I don't remember it. GREAT! And apparently, I made dinner for myself. I bet it was magically delicious. We APPARENTLY watched TV and chatted for a couple of hours. She said I seemed kinda wierd, but okay.

All in all, I slept and/or functioned without memory for about 36 hours. Impressive. I feel quite rested.

Just an FYI - the date rape drug DOES work. Proceed with caution.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Christmas Gifts for EVERYONE!!

So the Holiday season is upon us and everybody is struggling to find that special something for their special someone.

But what to buy?

How about a cute cuddly toy?

Sounds like a plan?

If I don't get Pee&Poo this year, I might shoot myself in the face.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

In case you wondered where the Goonies are now...

I know I did.
At the Office...

On the "swap shop" bulletin board in the break room of my office thismorning:

FOR SALE: 30'X30' tent, 17'X6' trailer WITH skirt, 5000 watt generator, portacan, 30 tables and chairs, baptism tank - $4300 OBO

Just the other day I was needing a tent that is larger than myhouse, a port-a-potty and a baptism tank. I will conduct baptisms from my backyard now while taking a crap in my portacan for an audience of 30. Let me know if you are wanting to take advantage of this opportunity.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Celeb Spotting!!

Okay, so he's not a celebrity, but he IS my friend from high school and he IS in a magazine...check out my old pal Hunter in the Foley's mag -

I was checking out the Red Apple Sale, and I was just going to flip past the men's section when I decided that I might as well take a look at some of the nice little eye candy...aren't I glad I did?! Haha.

Could I BE any cooler?

I didn't think so.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Stupid Ass Dance Class

I got kicked out of my very first dance class today. Faaaaantastic.

First of all, let me preface this with:

A.) This entry is not humorous. It if for theraputic purposes only.
B.)I go to the Houston Metropolitan Dance Center. I take the Open Adults classes. Tonight, it was intermediate/advanced. I would consider myself an intermediate/advanced dancer. I can no longer put my legs behind my head, but I would venture to say that very few 25 year-olds can.

I am the only person over the age of 14 in the class. Okay, that's a lie...I bet a few girls were able to drive themselves...with mom in the car. Drivers permits rock. They can all put their legs behind their heads.

My hip kind of hurts, hence, I went to dance class instead of running. I thought maybe it would help the problem...kind of a break of from the ol' rountine. Ya know? So, when I get there, I tell Stephen (Mr. Dance Teacher Man) that my hip hurts and I probably can't do some of the stretching full out...sorry. He is okay with that plan. Warm-up and across the floor went great. Did some turns, yada yada yada, leap leap leap... and now it's time for the combination!

Well, as it turns out, Mr. Dance Teacher Man wants to teach the same combination he taught last week. AND, as it turns out, all the other girls in the class already know. How convenient for Mr. Dance Teacher Man. He doesn't have to teach it again. GREAT! Oh wait, Christy doesn't know the combination, but that's okay, we don't need to teach it to her. We'll just let her stand around and look dumb. Let the 14 year-olds dance around her! Sounds like a plan Stan!!

When Mr. Dance Teacher Man started getting on to me about my lack of knowledge of the combination, I asked it I could leave and get my $5 back. He proceeded to kick me out, while cussing and creating a scene. He just wanted to make sure I knew who he was. I said that I didn't care who he was, I wanted to learn the conbination that I paid for, but he wasn't teaching it to me because all the other girls knew it already. He told me that it was an advanced class and myabe I shouldn't be, sir, I come to this class all the time. Idiot. He proceeded to yell at me to leave...of course, my shoes are on the other side of the room. So he yells it a couple of times. Now, all the 14 year-olds are staring.

Anyways, I leave, I get my $5 CREDIT (they won't just give me the cash), which means I have to go back there to get my money back. GREAT.

Can I just say that that was one of the more humiliating experiences of my life? It's an OPEN class...not a company class. And it is an ADULT class...not daycare. I shouldn't be expected to know the combination already.

ASSHOLE. So, for the time being, I hate the Houston Met. We'll see how tomorrow goes.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Ice Cream Truck Post...wait for it...wait for it...wait for it...

Back story: I have those kinds of locks on the doors of my house that are unlocked on the inside, but are locked on the outside...similar to a hotel room door. You can see why that would be a problem, right?

A few weeks ago (okay, a few months ago) me and the girls planned a trip to Austin for the weekend...a mini-vacation if you will. I am sitting at my desk waiting for Whitney and Kari get to my house. All of the sudden I hear "The Ice Cream Truck Song". Well, I haven't been living in a neighborhood for very long and this is my first encounter with a real live ice cream truck. My heart starts beating a little bit faster. Right at this moment, Whitney pulls up. I get super excited. Whitney AND ice cream? Um, okay!! So, I jump up and run out of the house. Right as I shut the door, I realize that I never unlocked the door. Crap.

At this point, the wonder of the ice cream truck has worn off. We scramble around the house. There are no open windows. There are no unlocked doors. There are no spare keys. My purse, phone, etc...are in locked in the house. And I don't know about you, but I don't know a single persons phone number by heart (with the exception of my parents house phone - which does me no good at this point). Me, being the prepared person that I am, made sure that one of my good friends in town had a spare key. Smart me!!

So, we try using Whitney's phone to contact her. Unfortunately, while Janelle and I are good friends, I have absolutely no idea what Janelle's last name is, so I can't call information on her. It is at this point that I realize that I also have no idea where she lives. Not even a vague idea of what neighborhood she lives in. The only mutual friend Janelle and I have, Kate, would have her phone number...except that Kate had a tonsilectomy that morning and couldn't talk on the phone. Great. What are the odds. The only person who could contact Janelle can't talk.

So, I try calling Paige ( I can't remember the logic in that). Well, I get Paige's parents - her dad. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: Hey Mike, this is Christy BEnnett - Paige's friend
Paige's Dad: Paige?
Me: Yes, Paige
Paige's Dad: Paige?
Me: You do have daugher named Paige, right?
Paige's Dad: I'll have to call you back.

Are you kidding me? APPARENTLY, I woke him up, but seriously.

Eventually, it occurs to me that I have my landlords phone number in an email somewhere. So, we call Amanda and she breaks into my email to get the phone number. We call the landlord (wacko) and she says she will be home in 2 hours. What else could we do but go to Bubba's - the local bar. It is 3pm on a Friday and we are the only females in the bar. I don't think I have ever been ogled like that before. But we got a few free beers (which was good, cause I didn't have a purse, or wallet or phone or livelyhood). Yea Bubba's.

Landlord gets home, unlocks the door - tells me about the hidden key in the garage. Why didn't she mention that 2 hours ago on the phone? No one knows. Reason Numero Uno that indicates my landlords are wackos.

Me and the girls FINALLY hop in the honda and begin our journey to Austin...Kari liked sitting in the back seat with Don. He is very cuddly.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

This blog is entitled: Ice Cream Truck

I am too tired to write about this particular title right now, but I WILL write about it next time.

Just wanted to remind myself. You know how I do.

To ease your sorrows, I have added a little something to brighten your day...

Enjoy. I know I did.
I remember now I why I discarded the other blog that I had...I am horrible at keeping up with the writing.


But to fill you in on some more of the "activity"...

Post dated about 2 months ago: I drove the Honda to work one day for reasons that I fail to remember. The plan for after work was to run home, let Donny out, go to the WW and then come home and watch the toob with Thomas and Natalie. I arrive home, and park in the middle of the driveway (just perfectly so the jeep is blocked in) and I let Don out, blah blah blah. Get back in the Honda and, of course, it won't start. Won't even turn over. Won't even flicker. Nothing. Not my fault though...the lights were all off and all that jazz...the battery was just really old.I can't jump the honda because:

A.) I have no idea where my jumper cables are
B.) The jeep is turned the other way and I can't make that happen

So, I call a guy to come out and jump it. That works. He tells me to drive around for awhile to recharge the battery. It's at about this time that Thomas arrives at my house for tv watching. Little does he know that this evening is about to suuuuuuuuck. We get in the honda and drive it for a little bit. Bear in mind, this was all very spur of the moment, so I am wearing house slippers and no bra.


Well, about 2 miles down the road, little honda dies. We push him into the old Eckerd parking lot where a homeless man tells us he is the guru of all things that is broken cars. Well, he gets in my car, WITH A CIGARETTE, and tries to start it. Of course, it didn't work, so he shuts the door...WITH A LIT CIGARETTE. Who does that?? Now my crappy little car not only won't start, but now it smells like I am a chimney sweep. Thomas and I walk the 2 miles back to my house - neither of us has a phone on was so spur of the moment. And I am still wearing slippers and no bra. In the ghetto. My very small boobies are just banging around out there. Unacceptable.

We go to Wal-mart, we get a battery, we drive to the honda, but lo and behold, we don't have any of the right tools. So, after an hour of us faking it, we finally get the battery in so I can drive it back to my house.

For goodness sake man!

Monday, September 26, 2005

This is the Chinese Ronald McDonald. Freaky.

Post dated: about 5 weeks ago...

On my way back from Pearland - I met Kristin for dinner at Panera Bread, our favorite place - I decide to stop by the Galleria to get some more powder for my lovely little face. Well, I get stuck in traffic in 610 (duh.) and cars are doing the "roll down your window" motion to me. (FYI - I am in the Honda) I finally do this, and this man tells me my tire is quite flat. Fantastic.

I formulate a plan to solve the problem. This plan consists of me going to the Galleria to get my powder and then checking out the condition of my tire. So I park in the Green Garage. For those of you who don't frequent the Galleria and/or don't know the garage colors, the Green Garage is the secrete garage underneath Foley's. I check out the tire. It's low, real low, but not so low that I can't do my shopping and then go to the gas station to fill it up to get home.

I go into Foley's. I go to the Clinique counter. They don't have any powder. I say, WHAT? You don't got no powder? She say, No ma'am. We don't got no powder. So, I leave. I stop by 17,000 other other stores and I walk out with a pair of underwear. One pair.

I walk down to my car. At this point, the tire is real real flat. I decide to be a real independent woman and change my tire, because that is the "best" option. So, in the stagnant humid air of a parking garage in Houston, Texas, I jack up my car. I take off the lugnuts. I throw that flat puppy in the truck and pop the new little spare on there. A

fter I have sweat all the humidity back out again, I get in my car, covered in nasty car juice and start Lil' Ol Honda back up. We pull out of the parking space and bam! the spare goes flat. I mean, I haven't even started to go forward yet and the thing is already flat. Flat as a FountainView Cafe pancake I tell you. And those things are flat.

I get out of the car to inspect the damage. It's flat. Oh, yea, that was a surprise. So I get back in my car to comtemplate the options. I can:
  1. put back on the "not quite as flat" full size tire
  2. drive to a gas station on the axle or the spare
  3. lock my keys in my car while it is running

I opted for option 3. It seemed like the best one. So, after an amusing, but long (and I am tired of typing this) story, the wrecker finally comes. It's late and I go to bed at 5:30. Great. But the wrecker can't fit into the garage. So they have to bring their locksmithing tools down into the garage where my car has been sitting, (on and alone - for I have been upstairs in the mall trying to use my phone) for the past 3 hours, to try to open the door. For some reason, this is a difficult task. Eventually, they open it. I have to drive it, on 3 wheels and an axle to the road, so that tow truck man can tow it to Discount Tire.

$135 later, I have one less car at home and one more car at Discount Tire.

(Thanks to Janelle for coming to get me and spending her very last dollar on a bottle of water for me. I owe you big time. )
So, by request, I shall record all of the "sit-com-esque" dramas that I deal with on a (hopefully decreasing) regualar basis. My life is crap. I mean, when was the last time YOU had to call a wrecker for your car? 5 years ago? Yea, I have 3 times in 3 months. So, I will catalog events that have occured previously just to catch you up to date, and then I will update you on a (hopefully decreasing) basis.

Sidenote: The flies in my house are large enough to eat my face.