The Wedding.

I still haven't posted anything about our wedding, but in short, it was fantastic. The reception hall looked fantastic, the music was fantastic, the dancing was fantastic, the booze was fantastic and most all my new husband was/is fantastic. I'd like to do it again, but Tommy says no. I don't know why.

Here are a few pictures for your viewing pleasure:

My dad walking me down the aisle.

The Ceremony. Performed by a family friend, Doug.

Newlyweds Dance Dance Dance.

Aggie War Hymn!!

Zach is CRAZY!!

Kate and Janelley.

Ma and Pa.

Amanda and I.

SECOND LINE!! Parade down Main St.

Dancing on the bar in Slainte. Who woulda thunk? They say they can't get my dress totally clean...

Hilary and Amanda with the best second line band EVER!!

And that's all folks. These of course, were not the professional pictures, but damm, we had a great time!!

Bad Santa

We finally had our Bad Santa Christmas Party, and luckily Leslie Gonzales did not come.

A couple of highlights:


1. Tommy bought cups with nametags on them. Awesome.
2. Jamey wrote "Germs" on his cup...not surprising.
3. Katy opened the vibrator...but then stole my movie. Jerk.
4. Tommy became so intoxicated that he was unable to get out of bed until 2PM the following day. When he finally emerged he walked hunched over like a Cro-Magnon Man.
5. Kate snorted at least 9000 times.
6. Tamer brough a vinbrator that says mean things like, "I have a headache" and "Not tonight sugar"

7. Sagar did not take home his presents...I think it is because he lives with his parents.
8. Brandie was too much of a wussie to get the present she really wanted.
9. And the ultimate point of the story is that Roy took home a butt plug.

Roy took home the butt plug. He won it and, lo and behold, no one stole it from him. I can't imagine why. Our story begins...

Roy gets home and throw the butt plug (still packaged and in the gift bag) on the floor of his apartment. At a later time, he went to the office of his complex to pick up a delivery. The girl in the office who is "smokin' hot" asked if she could have the boxes that were delivered to Roy once he got his gifts out of them. Roy, being the nice guy that he is, said, yes of course. Said girl, we will call her Ashley, ends up moving earlier than expected and needs the boxes earlier. She calls Roy earlier today - Roy ends up telling her to just go in his apartment to get the boxes that he has stacked up next to the door...next to the butt plug. Smokin' Hot Ashley is gonna have a nice surprise when she pops into Roys house today...

Houston. The Land That I Love.

There was a stray dog in our yard last night. It was a puppy, cute, whatever, but it didn't have tags and it was barking at us and I didn't want Donny the Dog to get any wierd diseases. Anyways, I called Animal Control, but they only work normal business hours. So, I called the police - they told me to shoot it.

Awesome.

UPDATE!!

UPDATE to this story...

Yesterdays story concluded in me having a phone conversation with Leslie, a guy I dated once, and me uninviting him to a party. During this phone conversation, he acted like he was still planning on attending the party (that he wasn't technically invited to). My response was, "I hate to be rude, but I really think it might be wierd if you came to the party - it's a small thing with a few close friends, etc..." I was pretty sure I had gotten my point across and that he understood that he was no longer invited. Apparently not. Me talk big words.

I took him off the evite, and assumed that all was well with the world.

When I got home last night, I looked him up on myspace, just to see if I could remember this former suitor (I did...vaguely). Somewhat a strange fellow, but all in all a decent guy. I also checked my email - this was in my inbox from my new pal Leslie:

From Leslie to me:

Hey, so I've thought about this a bit, and decided that it would be rather in-appropriate for me to come to your party, and somewhat awkward, so I wont be coming. Nevermind the fact that the invitation wasn't nessisarially directed to me personally :) Anyways, it was good to talk to you, and I hope all is well, Congrats on getting married by the way, thats awesome!

Leslie

**Now, in addition to his ATROCIOUS spelling, he has just proven himself to be the most dense individual in the world. But, the good news is that he won't be coming to the party.

Who IS This??

Long introduction to a story:

I have a friend named Leslie Smith (name has been changed) who I have known for the better part of my life. We were great friends growing up, through elementary and middle school, but lost touch in high school, and didn't really talk at all during college or after. Our parents are great friends still and see each other at least once a week at church. I have kept up with Leslie's goings ons via their gossip. I know she moved to Houston after college, went to law school, graduated and married a man who lives here. We had dinner once, about 2 years ago, and it was fun, but once again, we just lost touch.

She and her family came to the wedding - it was great to see her again and catch up (as much as you can actually "catch up" at a wedding). We discovered that she actually works about 2 blocks from our house and we decided that we should get together.

Tommy and I are having a Christmas party in a few weeks - there is so much alcohol left over from said wedding, and what better way to get rid of some of it! I wanted to invite Leslie and husband, so I emailed the email address I have with the Evite. When you send an evite you can tell who has opened their evites or not, and I noticed that in 2 weeks, Leslie had not opened hers.

I have her phone number, so I thought I would text her and ask her for her email address. The conversation went like this:

Me: What's your email address? We are having a Christmas party...
Leslie: A Christmas party? Yay!! It's Leslie@Gonzalescomputer.com How's your Thanksgiving?
Me: Good, just puttering. Did you go to Dallas?
Leslie: Sounds like fun. No, I came to San Antonio.
Me: Yeah - we stayed home to try to clean our post wedding house. Haha. I'll send you the evite later. We need to hang out soon!
Leslie: Ok, awesome. Send me the evite...and yes, we do need to hang out.
Me: Yayy! Happy Thanksgiving!
Leslie: You too! :)

Okay, there were a few things that confused me in this conversation, but I didn't think much of it.
Number 1: Leslie is from Dallas, but I thought maybe her husband was from San Antonio, although I had always thought he was from Houston.
Number 2: She has a law degree and I knew she just got a new job at a law firm - why would she have a @gonzalescomputer.com email address? But I thought maybe her hubby was a big techie nerd and had his own webspace, etc...

So, I got home later that day and sent the evite to leslie@gonzalescomputer.com. Yesterday, Leslie RSVP'd to the evite with comments. Now, while I looooove it when people RSVP, this one was a bit strange.

Leslie's paraphrased response:
Free booze on the night of my last final of the semester? WAHOO! I'm in! And I may bring a few crackheads to come and steal all your wedding gifts!

Leslie Smith is a reserved character - when I knew her she was a quiet girl, who spent most of her time with her nose in a book. I don't think much changed, seeing as how she actually graduated law school. The Evite response triggered a little more than a nagging in the back of my head. Oh, and as far as I knew, Leslie had graduated law school over a year ago...and I headn't heard anything about her going back.

I thought it might be best to verify via email with Leslie that she was in fact my friend. I did this nochalantely at first, but eventually had to come right out and ask...here is our email exchange:

Christy to Leslie:

Did you get the evite? I thought you were done with school? I'm very confused!! Anyways, since you work down the street now, we should get happy hour sometime - we pretty much live at Onion Creek!

Hope Thanksgiving was great!

Leslie to Christy:

Yea, I got it, I responded and I might bring a friend or two if thats ok. And YES, i love happy hours! ;) so just let me know whenever if you want to get together after work sometime.

Talk to ya soon!
Leslie

**Comments from Christy: I knew at this point that something was wierd. She didn't mention the fact that it appears that she went back to school and doesnt acknowledge my offer of Onion Creek...if you are anywhere near our 'hood, you loooove Onion Creek.

Christy to Leslie:

Who is this? I think I have the wrong friend...

**At this point, I figure out that something has gone terribly wrong with my eviting.

I call Leslie, well, I call the number for Leslie Smith that I have in my phone - and no one picks up. It goes straight to voicemail. The voicemail is a MALE. He says, "This is Leslie Gonzales, I am unable to answer your call right now, leave a message, etc...". Leslie is a BOY! At this point, I freak out a little, as he had previously stated that he will be bringing crackheads to our Christmas party to steal all our presents.

I respond to him with this email:

Christy to Leslie:

Yeah, I am pretty sure I have the wrong friend, as I dont believe I know any males named Leslie. Somehow your name got messed up in my phone book with an old girl friend of mine named Leslie as well. I am guessing you don't actually know me, right?

**I freak out and start cyber stalking Leslie Gonzales as much as I can. I also proceed to stalk Tommy via any method available...he liked it. Since Tommy was MIA, Brandie was my confidante. At her desk, we determine that the phone number is a San Antonio based number, but this doesn't do us much good because no one actually has a local number anymore. Gonzales Computing Systems is a small business computer solution company based in San Antionio, and owned by someone who is likely Leslie's father (same last name and older...coincidence?), and that Leslie Gonzales does in fact work for them...but they have an office in Houston, so he could work there. There aren't specifics. I am RACKING my brain trying to think of Leslie's, but I have no idea who this person is.

All we can think of is there are 4 reasons a person would accept an evite from someone they don't know:

1. They are psychotic and want to come to the party so they can kill everyone.
2. They are psychotic and want to break in and steal all our wedding gifts.
3. They are bored and actually want to come to the party where they know no one.
4. They thought it would be funny to respond and have no intention of coming.

Odds are that Leslie is a nice guy, but its hard to know from his voicemail box recording.

Luckily, he calls me back. He says he was in the bathroom when I called - sorry. I say, "We don't actually know each other, do we?" He says that my number was in his phone, but he doesn't know who I am either. Okay, at this point, things are just so wierd. I have a man's number in my phone, under a similar name, and that person just so happens to have my number as well? Wierd wierd wierd. Anyways, I ask him what name the number was under and he says Christy Maiden Last Name. Since there was no way for him to have known my maiden name, I believe him - all evites and such were sent out under my new email address. Things are getting wierder and wierder. We discuss a few things, while trying to figure out who we are, since are obviously great friends of olde. Ha.

Anyway, I finally ask him if we went on a date a couple of years ago.
He says, "Maybe?"
I say, "Do you have dark hair?"
He says, "Yes."
I say, "Did we maybe meet up at Front Porch?"
He says, "Do you have light brown hair?"
I say, "Yes."
He says, "Then yes, I think we did."

Hahahahaha. At this point, I am just baffled at how this could have happened. He kind of indicates that he would still like to come to the party, but frankly, that kind of wierds me out, so I tried to uninvite him as nicely as I could. I'm not sure univiting people is EVER nice, but I tried. If I remember correctly, he was a nice guy, but we just didn't hit it off, so he isn't crazy or anything, so if he showed up, it wouldn't be tragic, just kind of odd. Maybe he is the soulmate of one of my gal pals!! Hahaha.

This story has a point: be careful when you use Evite. That thing could be dangerous!!

El Honeymoon-o

When we were planning our honeymoon, I requested 1 thing: a beach to relax on - preferably with water that wasn't gross like Galveston, but that was negotiable. And that's how we ended up in Curacao. Curacao is near Aruba, just off the coast of Venezuala (South America)...it's far.

You've never heard of the island, and probably didn't know it was an island, but you have probably heard of the liquor Blue Curacao. As we found out relatively early on, Blue Curacao is just a color...the liquor comes in all colors of the rainbow, and it all tastes the same. Apparently the blue one just marketed better in America. We never drank it.

We decided to rent a car for the week, just to make our lives more enjoyable. I requested a Jeep or a convertible - I wanted to feel the breeze blowing through my hair (we used to have a jeep and now I am going through withdrawls). Well, Tommy looked at Hertz, Budget, Avis, etc...none of them had Jeeps or convertibles. After a long search, he finally found Michel's Car Rental (we still debate as to whether it was Michael or Michelle, but whatever) - Michel's Car Rental has Jeeps! WHOA! And by Jeep, they mean Suzuki Jimny. And by Suzuki Jimny, they mean they haven't replaced any of the parts on the car since 1992 because Suzuki stopped making the car (for good reason) and they can't.

Well, upon walking up to our car, a lovely little red number, the lady tells us that a lot of the parts are messed up because they stopped making the car...yes, we can tell. The inside is rusted, the outside is rusted...there isn't AC, radio or even a clock. We take the tour of the car, so she can mark any damages. This took a long time. There aren't windows the back of the car - only the roof, and the roof on the front doesn't actually clasp shut (this is okay for us since we plan on keeping it down...unless it rains...which it did and we had to hold the roof shut while driving). The driver side window doesn't roll up all the way, but at least it rolls up. The passenger side window didn't have a crank on it. The crank lives in the glovebox. If you want to roll down the window, you have to take the crank out of the glovebox, snap it on, roll down the window, take off the crank and put it back. I had to do this regularly because there was also no handle to open the door from the inside of the car. I had to unroll the window (remove crank from glovebox and install), then reach my arm out the window to let myself out. The steering wheel rattled when going over about 30 miles an hour and I pretty much feared for my life the whole time. Surprisingly, the car survived the trip. I included before and after pictures for your viewing pleasure.

After picking up our rental car, we attempted to drive to the hotel. The island is small and there are really only 2 main roads, but since none of the roads (main ones or otherwise) are named and therefore are unnamed on the map, it was difficult. All we had was a schematic to get us from the airport to the hotel. Eventually we found our way.

The hotel was really nice - open air lobby and fabulous fountain. Our hotel room was fantastic - we had two balconies, one of which was about 10 feet from the water. This is our view...I'm not zoomed in, that's just how close we were.

View from our hotel room.

The view was amazing. The water was gorgeous and so clear. We spent our first day relaxing at the hotel - the beach was fabulous and pretty empty. We drank champagne on the beach and just sat...it was magical. We woke up to the sound of waves crashing on the shore...it was so relaxing. We took our photocopied version of the paper out on our balcony and watched the people do water aerobics. These people LOVE their water aerobics. There was generally at least 2 water aerobics classes happening in our area at any given time. Each group probably had 10 people in it - which means 10 people splashing around with their noodles and counting (in spanish...wierd). Hysterical.

All the beers in Curacao are served in less than 12 oz servings. The "local" beers, Polar (from Venezuela) and Amstel Bright (from the Amsterdam) are served in 8 oz bottles, and are about $4. We went to the grocery store to stock up there, on hopes of saving money, but that didn't do us much good. Tommy bought 24-8oz beers, 3 liters of coke, a box of Ritz crackers (our vacation breakfast of choice), and a bag of doritos...it was $40. Ouch.

We spent day 2 hanging around the hotel as well - the beach was fun and the snorkeling was pretty good. That night we went to dinner at a place on the bay. Tommy had the snapper. The whole snapper.

Before.

After.

The next day we ventured into town to play/shop/eat. The town is really cool - not a lot of shopping, but we were able to find the best tourist junk store EVER. In this one store I got a deck of pirate playing cards, a stuffed lizard, a clock made of sand, a Christmas ornament (two bears dressed in wedding attire), a recorder and a scary little figurine. And my shopping is complete. They tried to sell us a coat hanger in the shape of a penis, but I regretfully declined. They claim they sold quite a few of them when the gay cruise ship came through. Then we sat at this bar and played cards.

Oh, and here is a picture of the town...

This bridge scared the ever living crap out of me. At a soaring 185 feet above sea level, the Queen Juliana Bridge is one of the highest bridges in the world. It connects Punda and Otrobanda (the two towns on either side of the bay). I would have preferred to drive around instead of over, but I lost that battle.

On the third day, we got on a chartered boat with about 15 other people and sailed to the unihabited island of Klein Curacao. It really is uninhabited. It is about 2 sq miles big and there are no houses on it. I got sea sick on the way there and was not a happy camper. They served us breakfast and then lunch and we got all the drinks we could fit in our hands...which was many. We snorkelled - the water was absolutely amazing - and saw octopuses and seat turtles. So cool. The best part was where we were at the edge of the semi-deep part and the REALLY deep part. Swimming over that edge was scary but so cool. On the island was a lighthouse and a shipwreck - we wandered the island and played on the beach for most of the day. It was fabulous.

The view from our towels.

Tommy's friend Mr. Crab.

Gosh, we're cute.

The shipwreck and Cap'n Tommy. Very unsafe and I made him get down.

The next day we spent visiting all the different beaches around the island and snorkelling. The weather was gorgeous and we saw all sorts of animals - eels, octopuses, huge schools of fish, seat turtles - AMAZING. Here are just a few pictures from our favorites.

On our last night, we went to Mambo Beach, which is apparently where everyone on the island goes. They have a fishmarket at the restaurant, and Tommy and I had our pick of the fishes. We had tuna, mahi mahi, shrimp, and lobster...very tasty. And of course, it came with fries.

The sunset on our last night was beautiful...

And then we came back to reality. It's tragic really. But at least I am tragic with a fabulous tan!

Sadie, sadie, married lady, that's me!

Yup, I am now officially Mrs. Tommy. A little bit scary, but a lot more fabulous! Our wedding may have been the best wedding in the history of the world, but that could have just been because I was the center of attention, and we all know how much I love being the center of attention. BUT, if the bar tab is any indicator of the level of fun, I would say it is a safe bet to say that all of my alcoholic friends had fun as well.

I will blog about the wedding and honeymoon in the entirety soon - I need to get some pictures for you first.

Either way, so far married life is pretty much the same as it was before...Tommy still cooks, cleans and drives me around. Poor guy. I totally scored in this deal. I love that man!!

A Little Bit of Crazy.

I get married in aproximately 48 hours and I may or may not have a little bit of crazy in me. The good news is that I was a good enough planner/organizer that I have enough time today to sit on my couch and veg (aka, write on my blog), but when you lie awake at night imagining that you have lice in your hair and then you become so paranoid about it that you have to get up and check your scalp, it's taking it a bit far. The crazy is taking over.

Seriously, I dreamt that I had lice and I was so paranoid about it that I got up to check my scalp at 3AM this morning.

I have a little bit of crazy in my eyes.

Engagement Ring.

In addition to my Too Small Wedding Dress Fiasco, the Computer Crashing Catastrophe Where I Lost All My Wedding Stuff (And A Lot More), and the Bride In A Boot Problem, my engagement ring broke tonight at dinner. Yup, it just broke in half.

Are these signs? Or is this normal? Because really, I can't take much more...

One week and counting. We had our final date as an unmarried couple tonight. It was fun until the ring busted. Now, I'm just grouchy. It's very similar to our first date as an unmarried couple.

Seriously? Seriously.

So, in addition to being a cripple who can't work out and therefore can't eat, (oh, and by the way, I have to take 10 students out to eat two meals a day every day this week...but I can't actually consume anything), my computer crashed on Tuesday morning. I called our service center and they said it would be fixed within 24 hours...3 days later, still nothing. I am using a spare, but you know, none of my info is on this one. It's a pain. But the real problem is that most of my wedding stuff is saved on that laptop as well, and I can't access any of it. Normally, I wouldn't save all that personal stuff on a work computer, but since ours got stolen when we were robbed a few months ago, I don't have another choice.

Seriously? So for those of you coming to the wedding, don't expect much. I will likely not be wearing a wedding dress because it won't fit. There probably won't be flowers or food because I can't access the phone numbers. And the odds are pretty high that we will get robbed again or I will amputate an arm or something in the next 9 days.

Big Fat Cow.

As most of you know, I am to be married in 2.1 weeks...and my wedding dress is too small. but the good news is that I am apparently not the only one who thinks I should shed a few pounds. I recieved the magazine "Heifer International" in the mail today. And yes, it was addressed to me...not to "Our Neighbor", but directly to me. On the cover is a huge woman next to her beloved heifer.

Good Luck Chuck.

We went to this movie the other night. It was not a great movie, but man, it was hysterical. The hysterics may have been brought on by the super-sized rum and diet coke I consumed during the movie, but regardless, I cracked myself up. There is this part where Dane Cook wears a penguin suit...oh gosh, I love men in costumes.

When the movie ends, Brandie and I walk to the womens restroom. We haven't finished our rum and diets yet, so we are still drinking them, walking and talking. As we are walking, a policewoman starts following us. I start getting all weird, thinking Police Lady is after us for our illiegal alcohol consumption...horrors! But no, she follows us into the bathroom, where there are at least 7 girls, all within 12 to 14 years of age. I scoot around them to get into a stall, and to escape police lady's wrath, and then I hear Police Lady ask the gaggle of girls if they are going to call "her" mom. Apparently, there is a girl in the bathroom, apparently sick on booze, and apparently Police Lady wants the girls to call her mother.

Brandie ends up leaving without going to the bathroom because the smell of alcohol reversing its fortune is too much for her to bear.

I am still BAFFLED at how 12 year olds got booze, and why/how/huh they were drinking it at the movie theater. Seriously. Seriously.

Not a Racist.

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum (and by forum, I mean gas station).

We all got together to watch the LSU game this past weekend, and despite the gorgeous weather, I sat inside (quietly and without complaining...I'm such a big girl) and watched LSU play football...and then lose 17 hours later. Since the game lasted so long, we ran out of beer and decided a beer run was in order. Jeff accompanied Brandie and I, which we turned out to be thankful for because Jeff may or may not live on the wrong side of the tracks.

When we walked into the crowded gas station, the conversation that we overhead went something like this:

Man with cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a 40 in his hand: "Man, you been workin lately?"
Other man with ass crack hanging out, and a 40 in his hand: "Ah man, I been workin so hard. I work from 5 to 9 every day, 5 days a week!"

You are right good sir. You are an upstanding citizen. Most people consider working 20 hours a week working hard.

Then we feared so much for our lives that we fled the scene quietly, but now we had beer.

This story brought on a new level of conversation at the party. Brandie offered up this story...(told from Brandie's point of view)...

So, I used to live in a small town in Mississippi where I was the minority. A typical small town...for example, when I walked into a furniture store, the clerks said, "Oh, you must be the new white engineer in town". One day, I got hungry for some ice cream, so I went to a Marble Slab type place. I asked the [black] guy for an ice cream cone with colored sprinkles. He gave me an ice cream cone with the chocolate sprinkles...and by "colored sprinkles", I actually meant the rainbow ones. Not black ones.

Seriously though. I'm not a racist. I just know good jokes when I hear them.

Other TV Channels...Specifically VH1.

Did you know there are channels other than the basic cable channels? I didn't. I pay for them (well, Tommy pays for them), but I rarely RARELY watch them.

I have been working from home for most of the week...I hurt my ankle and can't drive (see previous blog) and while I should be whole heartedly working and not working while the tv is on, I was. I worked with the TV on...sue me. Anyway, as you all know, daytime TV is VERY bad. I never knew how stay at home moms survived the entire day. (Yes, I know stay at home moms don't actually watch tv all day, whatever...don't send me hate mail).

Yes, I never knew how stay at home moms survived the whole day...that is, until I discovered America's Most Smartest Model on VH1. Yes, the show is called "America's Most Smartest Model". Absolutely ridiculous. And absolutely AWESOME. They have these porn stars spelling words like Chanel, and of course they can't do it. It is truly amazing. But the best part is that these people don't know they are dumb...that's how dumb they are. I don't even think they get the joke of "America's MOST Smartest Model"...they say it with such enthusiasm every time.

I am sooooo gonna be American's Most Smartest Model. Like, for reals.

Bride in a Boot.

My ankle has been hurting me for a few weeks now, but I have been running on it anyway. I finally decided that my smelly shoes were the culprit so I took myself shopping (darn) and I bought new shoes. My first attempt in the new shoes did not go so well. I made it 3 whole blocks from my house before I completely wiped out, scraped my left leg and sprained my right ankle. Badly.

The fall involved absolutely no branches, holes or any other tripping mechanisms...just pure clumsiness. It did however involve a few choice 4 letter words. I think it went something like this: "Mother effer, eff b*tch, eff you, sh*t, wh*re," and so on. You get the idea. It hurt a lot. I ended up getting a ride home from a very nice woman, Desiree - thank goodness for her. I need to pay that sh*t forward, man.

Since I can't drive, because I can't move my right foot at all (ugh), I stayed home from work...Tommy stayed with me to nurse me and my friend the Swollen Ankle. I was able to get a doctors appointment that day and luckily my ankle was not broken. But the good news is that I get to wear a boot...and I will probably get to wear it with my wedding dress!! YAYY!!

Maybe I can decorate it to match. Anybody have any extra tulle I can borrow??

Wasted.

You know you are wasted when you leave your entire wallet at the bar and don't realize it until you are ready to go out the next night. Seriously? I think we may have a problem Houston.

Secondly, I have a funny story.

A guy Tommy works with, Jamey (his name has not been changed because he is not innocent), was dating a girl named Sweetcheeks. Sweetcheeks, being the sweet little girlfriend that she was, planned an elaborate birthday party for Jamey. She send out the invitation via evite a few weeks ago. Tommy and I weren't planning on attending because it's the weekend before our wedding and we weren't really going to know that many people. Anyway, Sweetcheeks seems like a nice girl. Today, we got an Evite reminder about Jamey's birthday party. The reminder indicated that the party had been cancelled...and I quote, "Jamey's Birthday Extravaganza has been cancelled to the fact that Jamey can't his d*ck out of other girls mouths."

Ouch. But seriously...hysterical.

Fingerprint Reader.

I'm a genius. No really, I am. Today, I hurt my finger (middle one, right hand for you detail oriented people) and felt the need to bandage it. Therefore, I have a bandaid covering my fingertip.

We have fingerprint readers on our computers (gosh, how fancy). Typing my 8 letter password became too cumbersome so I entered in all 10 of my digits to be read by the little scanner. My injured finger just so happens to be the finger most commonly used to unlock my computer. 3 times today I have tried to unsuccesfully unlock my computer with said finger and each time when it gives me an error I am surprised.

Transparent/skin colored bandaids really DO work!!

TIGAH BAIT!

I attended my first game at Tiger Stadium in Baton Rouge, Louisiana last weekend. My lovely fiance, TB, has done nothing but bash A&M tailgates and bragged about the fabulousness of tailgating at LSU over the course of our relationship. We put he boasting to the test.

We have attended several games at A&M this season - my friends have the bus you know (www.15formeat.com) - and really, it doesn't get much better than a bus. We party with our friends, do a minimum of 15 keg stands and sleep in the car. It is a magical day. I decided to cave to pre-marital pressures and attend a game at LSU and wear gold no less (I tried to find a gray or white shirt, but they were sooo expensive and I didn't want to contribute to their delinquency any more than necessary - this shirt was $14, still a rip off). We drove down on Thursday night and stayed with his sister in suburbia New Orleans. Saturday, we drove back to Baton Rouge to meet our friends Gary and D for some football FUN!

Problem #1: The game was at 2:30. Apparently games are only good at LSU at night. Why do the fans have to be so prejudice about daylight? Tommy was very upset about the daytime-ness of the game. I was prepared for the worst.

Problem #2: We didn't have tickets. So we had to buy 4 - which wasn't a huge deal surprisingly. We got 4 tickets, together at face value. YEAH. Unfortunately, there were on row FF...which also happens to be the top top row of the stadium. The good news was that it was a great photo op and we had a wall top lean against instead of suporting our body wieght the whole time.

Problem #3: While the weather was nice and hot for the pre-game, right about the time we decided it would be a good idea to enter the stadium it started pouring. Now we are packed like sardines on an escalatror to get us up to row FF. It was far. And smelly. Sweaty wet people. Amost worse than smelly wet dogs. Almost. (but yes, they have escalators...AWESOME!)

Problem #4: Once I got wet, I got very cold. I spent quarter 3 hiding by the concession stands trying to dry off/warm up. But apparently it was too ot for Mike the Tiger to make an appearance. I hope Mike realizes that he lives in Louisiana and at some point he is gonna have to man up, stop being a big pussy (ha!) and learn how to survive in the heat.

Problem #5: The guide the traffic leaving the game down to one lane, with no where to go but straight. We stayed for the entire game, walked for 30 minutes to our car, hung out for an hour and we still waited in traffic for 1.25 hours. Smart people. Now I know why people leave early. It's the only way to preserve the sanity of the driver. (But seriously, thank goodness Gary was driving...we would not have made it out alive if TB had been behind the wheel - thanks Gary!)

But other than that, it was a good weekend. Haha. Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play? Ha. But really, it was great to see Rebecca and her family and our friends! Nonetheless, LSU did not pass the rigorous tests of tailgating...I'll give them one more chance to prove me wrong, but it will have to wait until 2008!

I can't lie though, the highlight for me was the corn maze we did on the way home. Awesome. I heart corn...and I really heart it when it forms a maze I can walk through!!

The Commute.

My commute sucks. A lot. I drive FROM downtown Houston to the 'burbs on I-10...I go against the traffic, but it still sucks. In fact, my traffic is often worse than the traffic going into town, but they NEVER mention the fact that it takes me 45 minutes to drive 12 miles everyday. Nonetheless, the other day I had a spectacular commute. It only took me 25 minutes and the music that was provided by my XM station (90's on 9) was AMAZING.

Song #1: I hop in the car after a great workout to hear the opening bars of "Pony" by Ginuwine. For those who don't know, this is a karaoke staple of mine and also one of my all time favorite songs. And I got to hear the whole thing. Don't you hate it when you only get to hear half of your favorite song? I do.

Song #2: New Kids on the Block (NKOTB) sing "Hangin' Tough" for me next. I grew up WORSHIPPING NKOTB. Worshipping. OMG, I hearted Donny. Hearted him.

Song #3: "Wonderwall" by Oasis. I know some of you are Oasis haters, but really, we probably shouldn't be friends anyway. Oasis rocks. The only way this could have been better would have been if the song had been "Champagne Supernova".

Song #4: We are starting to wind down now, I am exiting I-10 onto the Beltway when I hear "I Will Remember You" by Mrs Sarah MicLocklin (no idea how to spell it, so I'll just butcher it instead of trying). Just the right song to end my perfect commute to work on the right note.

This was the same day I dropped my keys down the elevator shaft. Awesome. I should have known something was up.

I didn't think I would need XM radio. I really didn't think I would get addicted. But I sooooo did. I need XM. Mostly I just need the 90's station...I would like to relive my formative years over and over and over. Maybe this time John Coil-oil will ask me to go steady with him. Ooooh, or maybe Sean Moore. Yeah. Him.

Quotes of the Day.

Can you wear cherries after Labor Day? - Brandie

Orange camo is the new black. - TommyB

Apparently all my friends are fashion forward.

Kristin and Eric's Wedding!

The wedding was beautiful - Kristin looked GORGEOUS (I may try and trade dresses with her), and the ceremony was perfect. The recption site was one of the most beautiful places EVER - old italian style - it was incredible. I would say that the only downfall of the whole day was the fact that we all look like sweaty piggies in the pictures because the AC was broken. But, regardless, we had such a great time!!


More pictures to come, but here is one that Val took:

Me, Liz, Kristin, Val, Jodie and Kate (doing her sexy face?)

I dropped my keys down the elevator shaft.

I do not think this requires much more elaboration.

Please snigger softly.

Funnies.

This was sent by Gilmore and enjoyed by many:

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=rules/070905&lpos=spotlight&lid=tab2pos1

...the best part of this site is Rule #22. See, Tommy, it is UNACCEPTABLE to not know the words to your fight song. No excuses. Slacker. The good news is that you have at least 37 schools can you root for...seeing as how you went to all of them. The bad news is that you have a lot of fight songs to learn.

This was sent by Christine and enjoyed by me, pretty much everyday for the last 3 months:

http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/

...the best part of this site is pretty much all of it. I hate passive aggressiveness and pretty much passiveness all together. If you're being passive, you obviously don't care enough and therefore I win until you decide to grow some balls and have an actual opinion.

I heart donuts.

I really do heart them. More than I heart cheese. Seriously. The only thing that makes me eat cheese more often than donuts is the total absence of anything remotely healthy about donuts. Cheese at least has SOMETHING going for it. It may be fattening, but it has nutrients!!

I gave up donuts for 419 days...it was a miserable time. I am now back on the donuts, but I am no longer addicted. I would even venture to say that I only eat them as often as the normal American person. But there was a time, in a magical land, far far away, when I would eat at least 5 a day...a dozen was no big thing.

Brandie sent me this today:
http://cityguides.msn.com/citylife/article.aspx?cp-documentid=5354141&page=1

I heart them. I really do. I also think I may heart the man who wrote this article...he and I cold be BFF.

My wedding. Er, I mean, OUR wedding.

Let's begin. Weddings make me crazy. How they don't make EVERYONE crazy is totally beyond me. I had to stop reading wedding magazines because they made me crazy. I actually started to believe that I needed, like seriously NEEDED, lilies flown in from Japan on the wings of doves or my marriage would fail. If I didn't have a $13,000 dress to wear, my fiance (who wears short shorts and Tevas) would obviously think he could do better and run away the minute he saw me walk down the aisle. Well, I finally stopped reading the magazines and am now living in a wedding induced haze...much more enjoyable, yet still ridiculous. Nonetheless, I have nixed flowers all together and chosen this dress, which cost approximately $34 to make...out of toilet paper.

Links.

We will start this post off with a slighty depressing, yet heartwarmingly optimistic note, and then finish with a laugh.

http://www.strengthforphillip.com/
http://www.jessicagage.com/

My friends are falling apart, so please keep these people in your thoughts. They need them more than you do.

To end with a laugh:

http://www.15formeat.com/index.php

Bus 42 made it's maiden voyage to College Station this weekend...intact, surprisingly. Saturday was a blast, but as of Sunday, I will never drink beer again. More on this topic later.

Bus 42's First Trip to Wings-N-More

(At Top) Vince, Erik, Jorja, Holly (Second Row) Kevin, Chuck, Jennifer, Thomas, Tommy, ME!, Sarah, Gilmore (Front Row) Jessica and Zach

Bachelorette Party.

My sister organized a fabulous river float for my bachelorette party last weekend. We had a fabulous time.

Highlights include:

• High Pour!!
• "This is the best 16th birthday party EVER!" - Erin
• Box wine, sans box...from old men
• Marriage advice from the old men with the udder of wine
• Kings Cup - green men, snorting and shimmy!!
• Flip Cup

General Hygiene.

I have to work very closely with a man who will call Jerry. Jerry called me one day to see if he could come up to my desk to work on a project. I said sure. That sounds great. Now, he called during lunchtime, which normally would bother me, but today I was okay with it because I got in late, ate breakfast late and wasn't quite hungry yet. Anyways, I digress. When Jerry gets to my desk, I ask him why he wasn't eating lunch. He says he doesn't normally eat breakfast or lunch, because he has chewing tobacco. I mean, if I had chewing tobacco, I wouldn't eat either. Who needs a hamburger when you have a small tub of ground up filth that you can put in your mouth and will eventually eat YOU?

Nonetheless, I work with Jerry that day. And THAT day, just like all the others, I become nauseous from the smell of his breath. His breath reeks of tobacco and large quantities of coffee. And he spends most of the time we are working together, leaning over my shoulder and reading what I am typing...so his fantastic breath is as close my intake valve (nose) as possible. It's wonderful. I spend the full two hours he is there applying and reapplying my scented hand lotion in hopes that his breath won't permanently taint my wonderufl smelling hands. Although, now, I could probably wipe my butt with my hands, just rinse off any chunks and no one would notice.

Disgusting. People are disgusting. Bathe people. It's not hard. While you're in there, clean out underneath your fingernails. Or, even better, just trim them so junk can't live under there. Or, if you INSIST on living in filth, at least respect everyone else enough to purchase one of those bubble outfits so the rest of us don't have to suffer.

Drive-By Titties.

I was innocently enough driving home from work one afternoon. I learned through texting Tommy while driving (I know - I'm terribly unsafe) that he was also on his way home from work and he was only a few exits behind me on the highway. Normal people would have said, "okay great, see you at home", but not us. We kept chatting.

Nonetheless, I take the exit to get home and there is a homeless person (I do not actually know if said person was homeless, but they were very dirty and walking along the higway - I made an assumption) walking along the exit ramp next to my car (and 50,000 others I'm sure). I call this homeless person a "person" instead of a male or female because due to the attire and general appearance of the person, I had absolutely no what gender I was dealing with...

...that is, I had no idea what gender I was dealing with UNTIL the homeless woman decided to lift up her shirt (unprovoked) and flash her big old saggy titties at me (and 50,000 others). Not only did she lift her shirt to show me her big old saggy homeless woman titties, but then she proceeded to fondle them in such a way that made me want to reverse the fortune of my lunch.

In the way that only good fiancee's are, I ceased the texting with Tommy and just called him to let him know that he might score some big old flappers when he exited - he should keep an eye out. She was gone when he got there. He cried.

The part of this story that bothers me the most though, over the fact that a woman flashed me on the highway unprovoked, was the sheer size of her homeless woman titties. Really, she had bigger knockers than me (this is not a hard feat), but she also had bigger pillows than Jessica Simpson (size D according to Dad - gross). How does a homeless woman, who supposedly doesn't eat a square three meals a day, have big old hooters and I have little nubbins? It just doesn't seem right.

Boobies. Knockers. Hooters. Nubbins. Titties. Dirty Pillows.

Hysterics.

Thursday was a rough one for me. To be honest, the last month has been rough for me and Thursday was just the icing on the cake....the straw that broke the camel's back...the log that broke the floodgate of my tear ducts.

I'll be honest, I had been in need of a good cry. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. You build up to it for days, weeks, sometimes even months. You can feel it coming on and you know it needs to happen, and sometimes you try to force it (so you don't happen upon it at an inopportune moment), but it doesn't work - a forced cry doesn't satisfy. That shit's gotta be real.

And that brings us to Thursday evening at The Beautique.

Thursday I was supposed to have my practice hair and make up done for our wedding. The purpose being to have the same hair lady and same make-up lady as on my wedding day so that we can figure out what works and what doesn't. I had my makeup done and I'll be honest, I looked pretty good...we decided I needed more lipstick, but I looked pretty fantastic. That is, I looked fantastic until it was running down my face 20 minutes later.

When I go down to get my hair done, the girl asks when my wedding day is, and lo and behold, she will be out of town that day. This basically means that I was getting a really expensive hair-do for absolutely no reason. Awesome. And that's when I turned evil.

No, evil isn't the right word. Pathetic is more appropriate. I cried my little pathetic fully made-up eyes out. Bawled. We are talking "5-year-old-who's-mom-won't-let-her-have-Lucky-Charms-at-the-grocery-store" hysterical. I knew I was being absurd, but I couldn't stop...the floodgates were open.

The problem with being a girl is that once you get those tears flowing all the bad things in the world seem so awful and directed at you. I cried for little children in Africa and for my dead flowers in the yard...they were all obviously torturing ME.

Sooo, after discovering my wedding day makeup will not withstand uncontrollable crying for an hour, I get home...still pathetic (and now very scary looking - puffy eyes, snot, mascara all over my face). Tommy is frightened and doesn't know what to do. As his only form of defense, he turned on Tommy Boy (the movie) in an attempt to stop the snot from ruining his couch...apparently he thinks fat men in little coats cheer me up.

Apparently they do. About the time Chris Farley put on that tiny jacket I was ready to join the human race again.

Being a girl and having PMS may be one of the greatest inventions on earth. I was able to act like a complete psycho and it was totally acceptable for 2 hours on Thursday night. Awesome.

Too Much Information.

I am trying to buy a new car. Despite all the irritating salesmen (most of whos names I can't pronounce nor understand when they say them), I am actually enjoying the process. Buying a new big something is fun and it kind of gets your adrenaline pumping. I'm a fan.

I called my bank today to try to get financing and see what sorts of interest rates they were offering. I get a lady, who I CAN actually understand - which is totally bizarre and completely unheard of - so I am more friendly than usual with this particular customer service representative, we will call her Carol (because that's her name). So maybe this can be blamed on me...but I doubt it.

After a few minutes of explaining my situation, i.e. I want a loan for a new car, etc, etc, she starts to ask me questions. All (okay MOST) of which are valid. What's my address? Houston. Her response is to tell me about the last time she was in Texas there was like tennis ball size hail and it was 100 degrees outside...which means like that up in the sky in must have been like the size of basketball because it was so like hot. First of all, I don't know about the rest of you Texans, but I do not like to have my state dissed. This is the best state ever. She goes on to tell me that she lives in San Diego and the weather is always gorgeous and how she hears how awful it is in Texas and how she wouldn't live here if someone paid her. It just isn't her cup of tea, but obviously it suits you, she says.

A few more questions and then she wants to know my birthday - March 13, 1981. Oh, yayy she says, hers is on the 20th. WOW Carol, we have SO much in common. Did you know that about 1 out of every 12 people you meet has a birthday in the same month as you? Awesome. Like totally awesome. Well, in addition to having her birthday 3 days after St. Patty's day, and getting to drink left over green beer, the St. Pattys Day before her 21st birthday, she got wasted and got a four-leaf clover tattooed on her ankle. Lucky for her, she was like smart enough not to get it on her boob or arm or anywhere where she could get like fat and saggy. She's a smart cookie, that Carol.

But obviously not as smart as her oldest sister (she has 2 older siblings), who graduated from University of Texas (see, it IS the best state EVER) in 2002 with a civil engineering degree. Oh my gosh, we STILL have so much in common!! Oldest sister now works in Dallas for a large surveying company, (name unknown by Carol) doing the exact same thing as me (she seems to know exactly what I do, despite the fact that I have given her no details other than the fact that I work for a chemical company). Oldest sister decided to leave California to get away from her parents. Carol doesn't know why, she like LOVES her parents...but that's probably because the last child has more freedom. Parents like put like all the boundaries on the oldest and then the youngest get to like run around and do whatever. Carol would like totally move back home now. Awesome.

In addition to the fact that Carol is apparently from The Valley and thinks that we are BFF, she wanted to know all about my wedding plans and Tommy and why I am buying the car I am buying and if we were saving for a house and if so, were we going to buy in Texas? 'Cause really, Texas sucks.

Really, Carol, I just want to know what sort of interest rate I can get if I finance my car through your bank. I don't need to know the date of your last period or mother's maiden name. What's the interest rate? C'mon sister, like, what's it gonna be?

Toronto...Canada in General.

I met Tommy in Toronto this weekend (he was there for business). Overall, we had a great time, but I have a very things to discuss about Canada (and by 'Canada', I mean Toronto, Niagara (both Canadian and USA-ian sides), and the Buffalo and Baltimore airports.

#1. Everyone hovers in Canada.
I am all about good hygiene, but really, if you're gonna hover, at least wipe your sprinkles off the seat when you are done. As a general rule, I am a sitter. This disgusts Tommy to no end and he claims that had he known this, he wold never have proposed. I told him to suck it. And he said no way - who knows where my butt has been. Regardless, I sit. Hovering is too much of a hassle and I can't ever reach my full pee-ing potential when I hover. So, due to my desire to sit, when looking for a toilet to use in a bank of stalls, I will enter each one until I find one sans splatterings. If I can't find that, then I will either, depending on the amount of splatterings, A.) wipe the seat and then sit or B.) hover. In Canada, there was never once a toilet worthy of me sitting on it, nor was there a toilet semi-clean enough for me to wipe it off and then sit. Everyone apparently hovers and everyone is apparently very messy about it. They never had anyone write, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweety and wipe the seaty" in their yearbooks. My quads are tired.

#2. The Mason-Dixon line.
I've never been north of it...and now I know why. My parents were afraid that if I grew up in that kind of environment i would be even more hostile than I currently am. Who knows what could have happened. Tommy and I spent the days in Toronto walking around and enjoying the city - what I found bizarre is how NO ONE opens doors for each other, no one steps out of the path of another person and people just generally crash into each other with reckless abandon. On commenting to Tommy about this, his response was, "Welcome to North of the Mason-Dixon line". Well said, sir.

#3. Where are the non-asian/indian people?
'Cause they are NOT north of the mason-Dixon line. No wonder the Loonie is soaring...

#4. Tourists.
I hate tourist attractions as much as the next guy, but there are certain things you just HAVE to do. The Maid of the Mist, for example. If you are in Niagara, you must do this tour. It was amazing, by the way, and I fully recommend it. But the tourists make me crazy. They have no regard at all for personal space and they really think that by leaning 3 inches closer to the falls (over my shoulder of course) will make their pictures turn out that much better. It's a digital camera man - zoom. And really, when you are going to watch that 30 minutes video you took of the falls again? Never. You will accidentally tape So You Think You Can Dance over it next week, but because it is labeled "Niagara Falls 2007" you will never use it again.

#5. The squirrels in Canada are black. Not brown.

But seriously, the trip was a blast - Niagara is TOTALLY worth seeing and something everyone needs to do in their lifetime. Unfortunately, there isn't anything else to do in the city, so it's really just a day trip kind of place. Toronto was okay - no need to revisit. Their newspaper DOES have a huge sudoku that entertained me for approximately 2 hours though, so it wasn't a total wash.

Pictures will be included as soon as I charge the battery enough to get them off the camera.

Okay, I have enough battery now, so here are the pics:

Our second night in town, we got dressed up for a nice sushi dinner and check out the CN Tower.

TB and I with the CN Tower replica. It is about 1,460 feet taller than this.

TB being eaten by a Canadian Moose.

In this tour we learned all about meese avoidance techniques.

My dress was fun to spin in.

We followed this woman around for awhile trying to get a good picture, but this was the best I could do. Just imagine a large bowl of cottage cheese trapped in cellophane and you might be able to grasp the pain we endured.

This starts the Niagara Falls series. This is Tommy doing something I have no recollection of, seeing as how I had at least 17 beers while we played cards at a picnic table overlooking the falls.

View from our hotel room - Horseshoe Falls from the Canadian side. Amazing!

Never before have I actually seen pants like this in a store. Where in the hell does one buy pants like this?

Obligatory Maid of the Mist Poncho pic.

This child fashioned a skirt out of his poncho. I would say that the odds of him turning out to be straight at slim.

So sum up my anger on this day, view the email exchange from Tommy and I shown here. Some background:

• Aetna is my medical insurance provider - they suck for not being able to actually fill precriptions.
• Celso Garcia is our new ADT security salesman - he sucks for being a totally incompetent at what he does.
• Burnie is the man who broke into our house (his name has been changed due to a lack of actually knowing his name) - he sucks because he is he broke into our house without my permission.
• Cats are evil.
• Velveeta cheese is wrong. American cheese is also wrong. Bleu and feta tie in their wrongness.
• Karl is my creepy old landlord who came into my house and rearranged my furniture.
• Ralph (Perez) is my other creepy landlord who bathes at BurgerKing and thinks that 'debris' is spelled 'dupree'. He is just an effing idiot.
• Toyotaman is the Toyota dealership that is changing the locks on Tommy's car - they have to order parts from Nigeria and have slaves strap the pieces to their backs and swim through the gulf to bring them here. It is estimated to take 4 weeks.

-----Original Message-----
From: Tommy tommy@home.com
Sent: Wednesday, July 18, 2007 3:14 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: Re: pension

Not cats? And velveeta?


-----Original Message-----
From: "Christy (CM)" christy@work.com
Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2007 16:02:59
To:Tommy tommy@home.com
Subject: RE: pension

Oh, and also my old landlord Karl. And Aetna. And mosquitos and bug repellant.

Christy

----------------
From: Tommy tommy@home.com
Sent: Wednesday, July 18, 2007 3:00 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: Re: pension

Hahahaha. That's so much hate!

On 7/18/07, Christy (CM) Christy@work.com wrote:

Awesome. I hate Toyota and Allstate and Celso. And Ralph. And Liberty Mutual and Burnie. And all customer service people.
Christy

----------------
From: Tommy [mailto:tommy@homte.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 18, 2007 2:34 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: Re: pension

No word from Celso. And the effers already have taken my car apart, just waiting on the one part to come in. So I cant cancel. Toyotaman is checking status and calling me back.

On 7/18/07, Christy (CM) mailto:Christy@work.comwrote:
silly. I hate it. you know what else I hate? Celso Garcia's and Allstates. Did you ever hear back from Celso?

Christy

Sorry. I'm sorry. Seriously. I'm sorry.

Why must you keep nagging me?

It has been brought to my attention (again) that since I started dating the wonderful TommyB, that my level of funniness has decreased dramatically. This is true. I waste all the funny on him so he won't break up with me. Therefore, I have very little funny left to share with my pals. Sorry. I'm apologizing (again).

Despite the relationship I have with Mr. TommyB, funny things still happen to me, I just tell them to him when he gets home instead of writing them down for you. I'll work on it.

Today I will relate the story of the vultures in my office...

I am the party planner at work (not to sound cocky - I DO have a team that helps me, I am just the head party planner). I plan the office picnics, the ice cream socials, and the pizza parties. Yesterday, I hosted the office pizza party. Now, bear in mind that this party is nothing special...we just wanted to buy everyone a cheap easy lunch. We held it in the cafeteria, the cafeteria provided the pizza and we played Shrek on the overhead projectors. It was not intended to be a huge formal extravaganza.

Now, this story is many-fold, but I will stick to two main points: #1. The people in my office are obviously poor and starving. #2. The people in my office have no sense of proper decorum and thankfulness.

To address problem #1: It was a pizza party. We bought enough pizza for everyone in the building (650 people) to have 2.5 slices. Some people will have 1, some people will have 4 - fair enough. We have some real teletubbies over here. But people were pissed off that they can't take a whole pizza home with them to feed their children. Pissed off. Like actually upset that they can't take a whole pizza home. Bear in mind that everyone (almost) in my office is an engineering type person who makes a healthy salary. There is no reason why they can't just go home and buy an effing pizza for dinner if they want one. Their children are not starving. There is also no reason to take 17 cokes back to your desk. Seriously man? I case of cokes is like $4. Are you REALLY that strapped for cash? Really? I think all the starving children in Africa actually work in my building.

And #2: The party was fron 11-12:30. The cafeteria was making almost 220 pizzas. No one could possibly expect ANY pizza joint to produce 220 pizzas and have them all the ready and hot at the same time. It would be impossible. But apparently the people in my office have had better luck at making 220 pizzas at once, because these pizzas were unacceptable. One woman showed up at 12:45 (15 minutes after the party had ended) and complained about the temperature of her pizza. There's a microwave you incompetent piece of crap.

There's my rant for the day. I'll see what else I can dig up for you...there were those old nasty women humping each other in Scottsdale, and Brutus the Gator I held in New Orleans...I'll see what I can do...

Sung to the tune of Paula Abdul's "Cold Hearted Snake" ...

"He's a one eyed snake...look into his eye..."

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Does he like me or not?

My friend Erik is very funny. What I can't figure out is if he really likes me and wants me to enjoy his laughter or he actually despises me and wants me to die and be miserable. Because we have been friends for quite awhile now, I am going to assume that he doesn't hate me, but it's questionable.

In the mail yesterday, I recieved a note from Erik and a cutout from a magazine. The note said something like this: "I saw this and thought of you. If it weren't so completely useless and I weren't so cheap I would buy it for you." The magazine cutout was of a Cat Lady Figurine. And no, I don't mean CatWoman from Batman. I mean, like a creepy a cat lady who is old and dirty and has lots of cats. The cat lady stands at 7" tall, comes with 6 separate cats to place strategically around her, and 2 cats that protrude from her nappy hair and pant leg.

Via email yesterday, Erik sent me this: "I saw this. I laughed a lot. Then I thought you might like it. I ate a Nutri Grain this morning, and somehow... it didn't have quite the same effect." http://youtube.com/watch?v=XbFLhbJRt_E

Either Erik likes me or hates me. It's all up in the air right now.

I NEED a catlady figurine. Need it.

Josh is funny.

I hope he doesn't mind that I am stealing his 'notes' from Facebook, but who cares.

Displaying all 5 notes by Joshua.

On the subject of subjugation
by Joshua (notes) 9:05am Thursday, Oct 26
According to facebook, I can't be in a relationship with myself. This is horse shit. I mean, I'm with myself every day, and I know myself better than anyone. I can't break up with myself just because facebook doesn't approve of our relationship. What am I going to tell myself when I ask myself why I'm not in mentioned in the relationship status? Am I hiding something from myself?

The New Style
by Joshua (notes) 10:53am Saturday, Oct 21
This new trend of women wearing tights is ridicolous. They're not hip. They don't look sexy. And oversized sunglasses aren't appealing either. So cut it out already.

On the subject of Communists
by Joshua (notes) 1:39pm Thursday, Oct 19
We should feed North Korea to China.

On the subject of objective thinking
by Joshua (notes) 5:20pm Tuesday, Oct 10
Well, I failed my math test. I've been failing math tests since math tests and I ever met. I mean, simple multiplication, addition, subtraction, and division are simple. But algebra, MOSTLY algebra, doesn't make any sense to me. The introduction of imaginary numbers is absolutely puzzling. It's like introducing an imaginary wallet into an equation when I have to pay. It's neither here nor there. It's just a waste of time. It's entirely too two dimensional. Not to play on words, but criminy. So, I guess I'll study hard for the next three tests, and with any luck, I'll finish the last math class of my life with a 70. If not, don't be surprised to hear about some arson on the local news. I won't burn anything useful. Just maybe a couple city halls or a mall.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

I have no respect for myself or the ones that I care about.


Apparently.

This is just before Don won the 8 mile Turkey Trot in Dallas. He came in first place of the dogs**!!

**This information has not been independently verified. We just told him that to make him feel better. But no dogs passed us and we couldn't see any other dogs in front of us, so it can only be assumed that out of 30,000 people, my dog was the fastest.

Tommy said...

"You can be classy, conservative AND have a dick in your mouth at the same time." In reference to the slutty virgin on The Bachelor.

"Friends don't let friends have lonely assholes." In reference to his gay lover.

Puerto Vallarta.

TommyB took me on a romantic ghetto-way to Puerto Vallarta last week. I have included some of the better pictures...

These 2 fellas thought these shoes were cool. So did Tommy.

This bread - yes bread, not a cookie - was in the shape of a pig...well, it was before TB ate his butt.

If you look closely, you will notice the 2 men holding hands. One of these men has on extremely short shorts and Tevas with socks...I think the other man may be Tommy. Ha.

You just never know when you might need 13 Dominoes delivery drivers...

More lovely pictures will be added as soon as I can bring myself to upload them. On a serious note though, the trip was amazing and I may very well be the luckiest girl in the whole world. Everybody should give TB a hug today - he deserves it!

And just for grins - you can watch Faith Hill NOt win Artist of the Year here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyZRiEJnIag

The Ghet-tooooo...

One of my favorite things about living in the ghetto is that regardless of day or type of weather, you can always find an ice cream truck driving down the street. The ice cream truck comes EVERY SINGLE DAY. Every day. Seriously. The first time I heard the truck, I got so excited that I locked myself out of my house. Now, when I hear the 'do your ears hang low...' song, I generally wish I could slam my head in the sliding door of the ice cream truck.

Sometimes though, it gets evern ghetto-er and the truck doesn't come, but don't you worry, the people in the ghetto still need their ice cream...they hire an ice cream bike. Same concept, just with a bike...it has a little cooler trailer behind it. Not as much music, but I am pretty sure he has a horn.

I mean, I like ice cream as much as the next guy, but how many popsicles in the shape of Mickey's head can you really eat in a week? If you asked the people on my street, they would say at least 7.

Viva la ice cream truck.

The Classics.

This may be the funniest, most creepy, slightly disturbing thing I have seen in awhile. Enjoy - http://www.bikerfox.com/foxphotos2/ The BikerFox won't let you down. You wish that he would, but he never does.

The Highlight.

This weekend was Wehner Weekend IV - where my first fish camp gathers each year in October to reminisce about the days of old. Very similar to Muster, just without the candles and the addition of a few beers.

We drank, we bowled, we drank, we danced, we played 42, we drank.

On Friday night, Tommy became enraged with a deer head that he knocked from the wall. The deer fell off the wall, his antler tore a hole in TB's shirt, cut his back and fell to the floor to amputate one of his antlers. The deer is only half as deerly as he was before. Tommy's response to the situation was, "That deer is an asshole". He didn't quite seem to grasp the fact that inanimate objects can't be assholes.


Of course, he doesn't remember any of this.

Training.

I spent my day in training (well, my whole week actually) and today we practiced using a tool called JMP (pronounced JUMP). It's good fun. It's a statistical tool that allows people are unfunny to remain unfunny. Statisticians, while rich, are never funny. Ever. Especially today.

JMP is a tool that will let you evaluate lots and lots of data at once - very similar to excel, but much harder to use. Well, similar to Excel, when you input data it spits out a graph...sometimes. The difference is, when JMP spits out a graph, the instructor calls it 'eye candy'.

Yes, eye candy. Like a hot chick (or dude). My statistician teacher man was referring to graphs and charts as eye candy. That's just wrong.

We took a tally. He said eye candy in reference to a graph 7 times in an hour long module. There is nothing right about that.

And you wonder why I drink.

Kate Goes to the Movies and other mildly funny stories...

"I went to the movies on Friday night with Keith—we saw The Departed—it was GREAT! To top it all off, there was a man in the theater who may have had some mild form of Turret’s Syndrome. Whenever he sneezed (the count got up to 4), and mind you, it was the loudest sneeze that you’ve ever heard, he’ yell, at the top of his lungs, ‘f-you’. It was hysterical!!!!"

Awesome.

Yesterday at the park, me and TB were playing with the Don. We saw an older couple cuddling on the other side of the park. It was cute. Then the man mounted the woman. That's not cute. It's just inappropriate. And then he started taking off her shirt. Of course the shirt never came all the way off and of course it wasn't a man. It was 2 chicks. Humping at the dog park. And no, they weren't hot. I mean, we thought one of them was a man for awhile. Don wasn't scared of either of them, so we knew they couldn't be men. Ha.

Sweet.

I am watching The Bachelor right now and there is a chick on here with exceptionally pouty lips. There is no way in hell those lips are natural. It makes me uncomfortable just looking at her. Apparently her name is Gina and she accepts the rose. Stupid fat lips.

Blah.

I just don't have time for the blogging. I am sorry. Lots of funny things happened today on the way to the forum though. I'll try and remember them.