It Started with a Chair...

So, I passed this on the way to brunch a couple of Sundays ago. Seriously, this is "the most magnificent discarded living room set I've ever seen." 

I want to tell my neighbors that Juno MacGuff does not live here and will not be strolling along and taking this little beauty off their hands.

 

It's too bad they didn't toss that puppy out during the fall of 2009. How classic would it have been if I had snagged the neighbor's recliner, and was lounging in my front yard when Steve left for work in the morning. He'd be confused about why I'm sitting in a chair in our front yard, but you know, he'd still be happy to see me. Then, while pretending to smoke an unlit pipe, I'd tell him I'm pregnant! It beats shoving a positive pregnancy test in his face while he's trying to watch the Cowboys game. Opportunity missed.

Sorry to any reader who hasn't seen Juno. This must all be so confusing for you. Pay no attention to me. Good day to you all.

You see, it would be this mat...and would have CONCLUSIONS written on it that you could JUMP TO

If Tom Smykowski from Office Space ever raises the seed money to manufacture his Jump to Conclusions Mat, and you decide you want to play, you don't want to play against me. I am the master of Jump to Conclusions. Or maybe you would want to play with me. You be the judge:

So, I was driving to the grocery store to buy Hot Pockets and sour cream (and nothing else) when I noticed a spectacle on the street. In front of one neighbor's house were three very LARGE trucks. Like large moving trucks, and plastered all over the trucks, bigger than hell, was their logo and advertisements as a carpet cleaning company that specializes in REMOVING PET ODORS. That selling point was heavily emphasized on all three trucks, which were so cluttered with information that it looked like they had been decorated by a child who loves stickers way too much. Neighbors down the street are standing in their yards scratching their heads, and I bet they're wondering the same thing I'm wondering: What in the hell happened in that house that would necessitate three enormous trucks to clean it up? I guess the obnoxious trucks serve as a great marketing tool for the business, but for the home owners, it's like posting a memo in the neighborhood newsletter that says "Our house is vile. Seriously. Do not go in there."

I mean, I have no idea what transpired in that house leading up to the carpet cleaner's arrival, but I think they should just move. Did somebody hose down the entire house with urine or something? In case you have forgotten, I have three mutts and a baby, and even I have to I ask myself what terrible thing would have to happen inside my home to require such drastic measures. Maybe if we returned from a week-long vacation to discover a rotting carcass in our living room. Then again, I probably would just rip out the carpet in the unlikely event of such stench. Oh no, I hope there wasn't a dead body in there. That would be unfortunate.

As I return home, Hot Pockets and sour cream in tow, I take another close look at the trucks in search of clarity. A subtle banner across the top of the truck reads, "Flood Repair". Oh. Yeah. Flood repair. That makes a lot more sense. And is a lot less sinister and gross. Why do I immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion? Flood damage never crossed my mind, but dead hobos and garden hoses filled with urine did. Does that even exist? What in the hell is wrong with me?

In a related note, the last time I took Robinson for a stroll in a nearby neighborhood, I saw a house that still had its Christmas lights up. I decided that everyone in that house was dead.

The Beer Dance

I don't post videos often, and perhaps you've seen this one before, but it's astounding. This guy is stumbling into the convenience store for more beer, and he's way too drunk to function. This weeble wobbles and he does fall down. This shining moment was captured on security camera and set to "Puttin on the Ritz" by some clever yet sensitive soul. Be sure to take note of the time stamp on the video.



Here's the link in case the video doesn't work on this post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiX-81WlLlE

for Brad

Big Thanks for the Overwhelming Response to My Camera Query

I tell you what, I sent out an all-points bulletin asking for help with the tremendous FAIL that I call "photography", and you guys banded together like Dr. House's brilliant diagnosticians, generously offering solutions to my problem. A BIG "Thank you!" So, which one of you is Dr. House in this scenario? Well, that would be Anna, with a nod to Angie for co-signing Anna's diagnosis. I'll share everything I learned, and perhaps those of you who replied that you can't help me because your pictures suck too, well--this is for you! I'm paying it forward.

My Biggest Problem: Poor lighting
This may sound ridiculous to photographers and photography enthusiasts, but I made absolutely no connection between a blurry photo and poor lighting. When Anna deduced that dim lighting was to blame for my crappy pictures, I decided to get to work. I turned on both living room lamps, the overhead lights in the living room and adjoining kitchen (there was a big difference when even the kitchen light was left off!) and I opened all the blinds to let as much natural light in as possible (turns out I'm a vampire who prefers to live in darkness. Also, my exterior windows are in great need of cleaning) and after doing all this, my pictures were crisp and colorful. Note: This did not exempt me from using a flash. Without a flash, I still had blurriness.

Before: using a flash and whatever natural light streamed through the house. See, not terribly "dark", but blurry nonetheless

No flash, overhead light is on, with a moderate amount of natural sunlight (curtains aren't fully open). Notice the blurry burp cloth and feet.

Same as before, but now I'm using the flash. You can't tell Rob is kicking wildly and waving the burp cloth!

Following Anna's instructions to the letter: Every available light is on, all the blinds are open, flash is on.

Adjust the Settings
I played around with the camera's settings. I had avoided doing so up until now, because I had no understanding of what these settings mean, or why I would need to adjust them, so I would have just been arbitrarily pushing buttons. And, if I was just blindly changing settings, I was afraid of messing something up and not knowing how to un-do it. I am unable to adjust the shutter speed, but there is one setting (Auto Mode) out of the eighteen shooting modes on the camera that allows me to adjust ISO. I do not know what ISO does exactly, but I know it is an important feature in DSLR cameras, as all the blogs and message boards I read when researching cameras and photography talked about aperture and ISO constantly. I eventually abandoned the idea of getting a DSLR camera of my own when I was unable to grasp even the most basic concepts that were being discussed on these message boards. Anna helped me out by not getting bogged down in the techical terms, but by explaining it to me like I'm five: "The higher the ISO, the grainier the picture". So, I still don't know what ISO is, but I now know what it means to adjust ISO, and that's good enough for me.

"Auto" Doesn't Know Best
Because I was so intimidated by this technology, I felt it best to respect the "Auto" settings. Don't think, let the camera make all the decisions. Once I decided to grow a pair and do this my way, I noticed a vast improvement in the quality of photos. Most of these settings involved the type of flash being used, and the auto focus feature.

Choose an Appropriate Setting
I was stubbornly using the "Night Landscape" shooting mode for all my indoor photos, because it did not use a flash or a flickering red-eye eliminating feature, and it gave all my pictures a warm glow. And one picture out of every forty was clear enough to be a usable photo. I don't consider this a success. Most of these shooting modes do not allow me to adjust the variables, but I now know which shooting modes do, and which shooting modes are appropriate for the pictures I'm taking. Continuous shooting does not use a flash, but Subject Tracking does. The Portrait setting, in the absence of a more fitting choice, like "Children" or "Pets", consistently takes clear pictures in a well-lit room. I select the regular flash in favor of the flash with the red-eye eliminator (Rob doesn't like it). Auto Mode, contrary to its name, allows for the most manipulation of settings and features, which I find helpful. It has just now occured to me that it is possible that some of the settings I select or adjust in Auto Mode may carry over into other shooting modes. I don't know if this is true, but it would make sense.

Consult the Manual
If your TV isn't working and you call the manufacturer for help, the first question they ask is, "Is the TV plugged in?" They're not trying to be insulting, but they need to establish that this is not the problem, before troubleshooting a bigger problem. In that spirit, I was asked if I had read my user manual by a fellow Nikon user (though she is a Nikon DSLR user, not point-and-shoot). This got me thinking. Wondering whether all this confusion could have been avoided had I taken a little more time to educate myself with the User Manual (which I was pretty sure I read from cover-to-cover when I first opened the camera two months ago), I decided to take a second look. It's actually called a "Quick Start Guide", which tells you how to take a picture, but not how to take a good picture. Included is a CD-ROM "User Manual", which I probably read briefly a couple months ago. I pop the CD into the drive and take another look. Sure enough, on page 61 out of 220 of this PDF file, under the heading "More on Shooting" and under the sub-heading "ISO Sensitivity" a subtle clue:

"Although higher ISO sensitivity is effective when shooting darker subjects, shooting without the flash, shooting with the camera zoomed in, etc., images may contain noise."

I have figured out over the course of my research that noise = blurry-ass picture

A second clue found within the user manual, under the aptly titled "Troubleshooting" header:

• Use flash
• Enable vibration reduction or motion detection
• Use BSS (best shot selector)
• Use tripod and self-timer

Conclusion: Perhaps I had the answers all along, if only I had taken time to sift through the available information? But what's the fun in that? So I should also say thank you, Laura, for helping me help myself! I will probably spend a few minutes here and there getting myself edumacated [(c)Jessica Simpson] on how to properly use the various shooting modes of my camera.

I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends
All that being said, I was often using my flash and still ending up with blurry pictures. Thanks to Anna, I finally got the message about how important lighting truly is. I think sometimes it's just better when a friend helps you solve a problem.

On to My Next Quandary
If anyone would be so kind as to offer any chestnuts of wisdom that can improve my photographic composition, I'm all ears!

In Need of Some Photography Expertise

I got a brand new Nikon Coolpix S8100 for Christmas, and have been having a good time developing my skills and learning the camera's features. I have been having some difficulty, which I am more inclined to believe is the result of human error rather than any shortcomings from the camera. I have learned in researching cameras that there is a whole language to photography, and I don't speak it.

The Nikon Coolpix S8100 is a point-and-shoot camera that says it boasts a lot of features available on a DSLR, but without the expense, the equipment, or the need of a skilled photographer. I am an amateur with no aspirations of doing anything more than taking the best possible pictures of my family. I do not expect my photos to be of the same quality of a DSLR or for my photography skills to even come close to such results. Just wanna put that out there so that the photographers and photography buffs who I am desperately seeking guidance from will not be insulted thinking I'm trying to create photos as beautiful as theirs with a point-and-shoot. Not the case.

In case this information is helpful, the Nikon has a 10x optical zoom, and allows me to select features such as: night landscape, night portrait, backlighting, indoor/party, and auto mode. I have been experimenting with the different features, with varied results. I promise to be brief, but if ANYBODY has a suggestion, I would be so grateful. If you know what it's like to try and capture an adorable moment with a baby, only to have the picture turn out poorly and the moment is now over, you understand my frustration.

This is what I would consider to be a "good" picture. At least, good for me. I use the Night Landscape option, I think it makes a nice warm glow in the picture. The downside is that if the subject is in motion, the image will be blurry. If you look closely, you'll notice that the image on Robinson's shirt is slightly blurred because he isn't perfectly still. This is a big problem with babies, not being still.

 This is what I get when I use Night Landscape and my subject(s) are in motion.

 Night Portrait is surprisingly worse, given its name.

I believe this is Auto Mode or Indoor/Party, without the flash. The camera features a flashing red light that flickers before taking the picture. It's to prevent red-eye, but I call it the "smile killer", as this was supposed to be a moment capturing Robinson's adorable smile. Until the red light flickered and he made this face. I imagine as he gets older, this will be less of a problem. Another thing I don't understand: clearly, this is a series of photos taken at the same time, with the same external factors. So why is one picture so much blurrier than the other? I may have chosen a different feature, like Subject Tracking, in the second photo.

 I try to use the optical zoom, rather than holding the camera closer to the subjects, but sometimes it's still overexposed. Sometimes, a bright flash in a baby's face is a bad thing.

This photo was either Subject Tracking or Auto Mode (if it's important to know which, I can take more pictures, but honestly they all turn out this way.) There must be some kind of shutter speed setting that I can adjust in the camera so that this won't happen.

I purposefully chose a high-end point and shoot so I could take beautiful pictures without needing to make a big investment. Now, I'm having to take 40 blurry, over-exposed pictures in order to get one good picture. I know I'm doing something wrong here, and I'm feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. Help me!

I Seem to Have Lost My Voice

People blog because they have something to say. From the looks of my blogging activity as of late, I either have nothing to say, or I've lost my voice. I used to blog daily, and I found that the more I blogged, the more I had to say. For the past few months, my blogging has consisted of: type type type type type, backspace backspace backspace. I have partially finished drafts and drafts that go unpublished because they seem too dull to be read. Calling it "writer's block" would be an oversimplification, as I've noticed that this inability to articulate my feelings isn't limited to blogging. It applies to my real life as well. Allow me to elaborate on this matter. If I can muster the enthusiasm.

You should know going into this that I am regarded as an overly chatty, friendly person. The phrase, "She can talk to a tree stump" gets thrown around left and right when people describe me. That's pretty much all the background information you need.

Exhibit A: I attended a baby shower when Robinson was a newborn, and I was so exhausted, distracted, and overwhelmed, carrying on a conversation felt nearly impossible. I was trying to talk to an acquaintance who I very much like, and rarely see. She's a really sweet person, and although I see her only twice a year or so, we always carry on the easiest, most pleasant conversations. At this party, I found myself struggling to string a sentence together. I wasn't up to the task of bantering back and forth. Carrying on a conversation is like two people trying to keep a ball in the air, and every time she passed to me, I dropped it. I chalked it up to a bad day. I've never been off my game like this before.

Exhibit B: A couple months later, I attend an all-ladies get together. There were about twenty ladies in attendance, and the only person I knew was the hostess. I've attended many of these sorts of events before. I always go alone and am a social butterfly and leave having made at least one new friend. This time was different. I brought a "safety net" with me. Since I only knew the hostess, and I recently found myself socially stunted, I brought a friend with me so that I could talk to her and wouldn't have to awkwardly attempt conversation with a stranger. I spoke to nobody at this party except the hostess and the safety net.

Exhibit C: A couple months later, I attended another all-ladies get together. Another baby shower. I did not speak to anyone there who I didn't already know. I sat in a corner with my baby and tried to keep him entertained so he wouldn't cry and ruin the party. I was so relieved for the handful of friends who were also in attendance so I wasn't force to socialize with anybody else.

This is so the opposite of me. How have I gotten so out of touch? In addition to the social awkwardness I'm experiencing blogger paralysis. I can attribute this to several factors:

1. Opportunity. Part of what made my blogging so frequent and dependable was that I always had a computer at my fingertips. I had the opportunity to type and publish a post as soon as the thoughts entered my mind.

2. Timeliness. Once my lifestyle went from spending 40+ hours a week in front of a computer to being a mom who's completely occupied with taking care of my home, my baby, and myself, I wasn't able to type a blog post the moment I became inspired. Evidently, time is of the essence for me. If I have a spark of inspiration, but the moment passes and I don't type my thoughts, the enthusiasm completely leaves me. And, even if I felt totally inspired and enthusiastic in the moment, if my baby happens to be crying or needs me, the opportunity to blog is lost. 

3. Inspiration. My blog posts are like little essays. I will see a photo or read an article or hear a soundbyte or have a conversation with somebody, and from there I will construct an organized post. Lately, I don't care about anything enough to write an entire post about it. Lots of moms blog about their children and their lives, but I don't get out much--I stay home all day taking care of a baby, and that baby can't do much yet that's blog-worthy--so there's nothing in my personal life that's interesting enough to post about. I've always been interested in pop culture, but lately I just don't give a rat's ass. I could type a sentence or two sharing my observations and opinions, but nothing that comes close to the multi-paragraph posts of the past.

I'd love to post a coherent thought on this blog. Hopefully I'll regain the ability to write, but at the moment I seem completely incapable. I'm not sure what this says about me. I'm hoping that the act of posting this blog will grease the wheels, so to speak. Am I using that metaphor correctly? Also, I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that this post on my inability to post is awfully long. And boring. That is all.

"I am not amused"



14 Facebook Status Updates: Which type are you posting, and do your Friends appreciate them?

Thanks to Facebook, with the help of high-speed Internet and mobile phones that are like pocket-sized computers, we are immediately and constantly connected in ways we've never been before. We are able to stay in constant contact with friends and family, acquaintances, the guy who sat in the cubicle next to you in that job you quit three years ago...

As our methods of communication become increasingly impersonal, our desire to share more and more details about our lives becomes insatiable, so we have come to embrace Facebook, and the Facebook Status Update. After years of reading these updates, I have broken down Facebook Status Updates into 14 distinct categories. Some Status Updates are more well-received than others, and some Facebook Users are more self-aware than others and need a clue to understanding how their Status Updates are perceived.

1. The Who, What, When, Where, Why
This is the most common type of Status Update, and the type of Status Update I believe Facebook intended when this feature debuted a few years ago. Remember when Status Updates always began with "(Your Name) is--" and you just finished that sentence? These are the posts that announce big news or your daily comings and goings. Post these Updates early and often--but not too often.

• Samantha is at the Lady Gaga concert!
• Kelly just had the best lunch with Sally! nom nom nom
• Kristen is going to be an aunt!
• Amy is excited to start her new job!
• Jill's phone was stolen. Message me if you need me!

2. The Interesting Tidbit
Remember those ordinary days when something unexpected happened and you had nobody to share it with? Easily the most entertaining of Status Updates, they often open up a dialogue with friends.

• Sitting next to James Van Der Beek on the plane. How much will you pay me to softly hum the Dawson's Creek theme song?
• I entered the address of a baby crib store into my navigation system, and it took me directly to The Casket Store. GPS FAIL.
• I don't know which is worse: the Santa talk or the Sex talk. Both equally horrifying.

3. The Philosophical Friend
A personal prayer between you and Jesus, a quote from scripture, text from a devotional or self-help book, an old proverb, or wise saying you read on a coffee mug can be a lovely Facebook Status Update. Even when it comes out of nowhere. Just know that if you previously never posted such philosophical, religious, or wistful chestnuts and now you are, your Facebook Friends will wonder if you are in crisis or having an existential meltdown. Perhaps prefacing these updates with a simple, "I'm just tapping into my spiritual side, y'all!" will put your Friends at ease.

• True worship comes not from the measure of emotional response but from true reflection of the soul.
• ‎"The true hypocrite is the one who ceases to perceive his deception, the one who lies with sincerity." André Gide
• Dear God, You knew me before the stars were put in place or the oceans formed. You held me in the heart of Your plan. Thank You for putting Your eternal fingerprints all over me and keeping me forever on Your mind. In Jesus' name, amen.

4. The Sympathy Seeker
"Sympathy Seeker" might sound like a negative, but it isn't. What is the point of a social networking site like Facebook if you can't utilize it when you need to vent, or discuss you and your family's medical problems, and sometimes, (unfortunately) make a sad announcement. These posts tend to attract a lot of comments offering a shoulder to lean on, sage advice, prayers, well-wishes, and cyber *hugs*. It brings a little extra humanity to Facebook, and if I have to read about your eating habits and your movie reviews day-in and day-out, the least you can do is fill me in when something important happens. Obviously I care about you. Or I'm nosy.

• Laney is so sad that Uncle Phil has passed away.
• Lucy is taking Ella to the Dr. If he doesn't agree to put tubes in her ears, I'm gonna raise hell!
• Aunt Brenda had an abnormal pap smear. Please pray everything is ok!
• Ugh, my boss is such a pig! I hate my job!

5. The Cryptic Message
This is perhaps the most puzzling of all Status Updates. This can be a wordy paragraph that feels oddly specific and directed at a particular individual (who isn't you). This can also be a vague or puzzling song lyric, leading your Facebook Friends to decipher the hidden meaning of the lyrics and how they may pertain to your life. This could be a misguided Sympathy Seeker or a cry for help, but the message has been lost in its ambiguity. Helpful tip: unless you're going to name names and make this interesting for everybody, air your grievances in a message, email or blog. And unless you and your boyfriend just broke up and you've changed your Facebook "Relationship Status", do not post a lyric from a Dave Matthews Band song. It only confuses your Friends and causes them to worry. If you feel that you are a danger to yourself or others and are attempting a cry for help, quoting "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam is not the way to go. We can't place you on a psychiatric hold based on that alone. But we will all question your mental stability.

•  "Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away..."
• It was over before it even began
• I am so tired of being disappoimted by people who I trust w/ my heart. I have always been there 4u and ur nothing but a backstabber. No room in my life 4 selfish immature people.

6. The Poll-Taker
Need a babysitting referral? Looking to make a big purchase, choose a restaurant for dinner, or plan your next big vacation? Who needs Consumer Reports, Trip Advisor and the like, when you can quickly and casually consult your 500 closest friends? I for one have made a lot of important decisions based on informal Facebook "Poll" Status Updates. What can I say, my friends are decisive, informative, and (generally) impartial. I trust their judgment!

• Did that new Ashton Kutcher movie suck? I'm in the mood for a rom com!
• I'm babysitting my three-year-old nephew for the day. Where should I take him?
• Headed to Chi-Town on business tomorrow. Where can I get a good steak, friends?
• Time for a new computer. Am I a Mac or a PC?

7. The Self-Promoter
What is Facebook if not a networking tool? It can quickly become a network for tools if one is not careful. When used wisely, Facebook users with charitable causes, political aspirations, rock star dreams and entrepreneurial endeavors have successfully raised awareness of their cause or grown their business using Facebook to promote themselves. Worried your self-promoting may border on excessive? The amount of comments and feedback is a good indicator if you are turning people on or off with your self-promotion. Got a self-promoter clogging up your News Feed? If you hover your mouse on the upper-right corner of their Status Update in your News Feed, an "X" will appear, giving you the option to hide this person's Status Updates forever. You're welcome.

• Call Brad's Lawn Service for all your landscaping needs!
• Our band is playing at Smoky Joe's tonight! Hope to see you there!
• Hey guys, help me raise money for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for the Cure!

8. The Town Crier
Want the latest in news, weather, and entertainment? The Facebook News Feed is a great way to stay informed and keep your fingers on the pulse of what your friends care about right this second.

• Really wishing I remembered my umbrella today.
• RIP Michael Jackson.
• DADT repeal passes Senate! [link]

9. The Sports Reporter
A quick view of my Facebook News Feed tells me everything I need to know in the world of sports: who's playing in the big game today, who's injured, controversies, bloopers, conditions of the playing field, critiques of the sideline reporters, observations of the uniforms. In the past, I have been able to fake knowing about sports by directly quoting the Status Updates of my Facebook Friends.

• Steelers are going to the Super Bowl!
• Oregon is looking a little overmatched. Can't run the ball.
• Game 2 has got to go better than Game 1

10. The Pay-It-Forward Friend
This could overlap with The Town Crier or The Interesting Tidbit, but this type of Status Update has a more benevolent agenda. It is posted for no reason other than because the Facebook User wants to share useful information, a provocative article, or a hilarious viral video they've recently stumbled upon.

• The Tollway is a parking lot today. Stay away!
• A whole website devoted to cats that look like Hitler! Now I've seen everything! [link]
• Gas prices will go up this spring [link]

11. The Jet-Setter and the Social Butterfly
While you're nursing your little girl back to health as she recovers from her tonsillectomy (as I read in your Sympathy Seeker Status Update), your old college roommate's Status Update reveals that she's just been skydiving ("How exhilarating!") and tonight she's meeting Kings of Leon in a backstage meet-and-greet. And tomorrow she's headed to Vegas. And the day after that, you'll try not to de-friend her so you can stop reading about how much more adventurous her life is than yours. Are they being intentionally boastful to make themselves feel important or make you feel jealous? One can only speculate, but I can say this: A little goes a long way.

• Flying 1st class to London on my company's dime! Does life get any better?
• Headed to Antigua, again. The water is just so blue!
• Just got upgraded to "VIP" at Ghostbar. Probably because I'm so sexy.

12. The "Dear Diary" Friend
This Friend's posts are harmless. Their Status Updates are kind of like flipping through a stack of somebody else's vacation photographs. After the seventh or eighth snapshot of The Great Barrier Reef, it becomes increasingly difficult for me to feign enthusiasm. I wasn't actually there with you. I can't appreciate the magic. You should probably refrain from these posts. Write about it in your diary, or devote a page in your scrapbook. At their worst, these updates share "too much information". Also, these Friends are so cheerful, they typically refer to their significant other or children as "the best", and if they've got "the best", then that automatically means that those of us reading the Status Update do not have the best. To all the married ladies out there: raise your hand if you just love reading about how great somebody else's husband is on a day when your husband is being a rascal. Or the day you found out your husband is leaving you for the stripper he impregnated.

• OMG, y'all--I was craving a brownie earlier, and my sweet husband totally got me a brownie! My life is so blessed!
• Madison went poopy in the potty. I gave her two m&m's. Such a special day in our house.
• I thought I didn't have enough milk for my morning bowl of cereal, which made me sad. Then I realized I do have enough milk for my cereal! What a great day!
• I'm spending all day in bed with my sweetie! xoxo

13. The Instigator
This breed of Facebook User thinks they were sent to piss the world off. They may be right. This Status Update will hold your News Feed hostage with it's intentionally controversial, polarizing and inflammatory remarks, designed to trigger a heated debate. These Facebook Users do it for kicks, and getting down and dirty with them only encourages them. Helpful advice to the Instigators: If you choose to be this type of Status Update poster, don't change gears and try to become a Sympathy Seeker or a Self-Promoter. After reading your offensive remarks, nobody wants to help you.

• Obama is contemplating cutting the pay increase for the military and the Islamic center 2 blocks from Ground Zero is asking for $5 million to finish their building. I'm going out on a limb here, but go fuck yourself since it is your bullshit "religion of peace" that dropped those buildings and has tied us up in war for the last 9 years.
• Terrorists getting acquitted, gays about to serve openly. This is the change I can believe in. Thanks Obama
• The people who cheer for the team I don't like are a bunch of ignorant rednecks who sleep with their sisters.

14. The Twitter Feed
This Facebook User has completely confused Facebook with Twitter. Twitter asks the question "What are you doing?" and wants you to answer it in 140 characters or less, as many times throughout the day as you like. The Facebook Users who treat their Status Updates like a Twitter Feed update multiple times throughout the day, and share the most banal details of their existence that nobody cares about. The best is when The Twitter Feed friend's sixth Update of the day is "I'm so busy!" and I'm reading it and thinking, "Really? You're not too busy to tell me everything you ate today." Seriously, step away from the computer.

• Misty just finished four loads of laundry!
• Misty wants a nap.
• Misty had the best nap!
• Misty just did another load of laundry. It never ends, LOL!
• Misty baked a cake.
• Misty ate a cake.
• Misty has a tummy ache.

Bitchface Goes to the Mall

Warning: This post contains stereotypes, digressions, and movie spoilers.

Ok, so you know how most some home schooled kids are socially awkward (stereotype #1) because they don't have the opportunity for social interaction in their everyday lives? Well, I've been a stay-at-home mom/shut-in since June, so my social skills have atrophied to the level of a Duggar kid. Not Josh Duggar. Isn't that the charismatic, sexy one?

Now that I've got a good case of cabin fever, and have achieved a level of isolation and awkwardness rivaled only by Tom Hanks' character in Castaway after they've rescued him (Spoiler!) along with a few other reasons I will expand on later, I chose to venture out into the world, to a place I loathe...the mall.

I know, the thought of me hating the mall seems like a contradiction in terms, doesn't it? Like Charlie Sheen hating hookers. There was a time, back when I had more money than responsibilities, when I could see no better way to celebrate, reward myself, or renew my broken spirit than to take a trip to the mall. Where else on earth can you purchase a pair of $150 faux zebra platform pumps while eating a giant pretzel? Seriously, is there another place? I want to go there.

Why do I hate despise the mall? Let me count the ways:

I hate despise the parking
I hate despise the crowds
I hate despise the moms who carelessly ram their strollers into my Achilles heel and don't even apologize
I hate despise that the mall compels me to buy things I don't need with money I don't have
I hate despise the guy at the kiosk who lunges at me and insists I allow him to:
   A) buff my fingernails
   B) flat-iron my hair
   C) thread my eyebrows
   D) introduce to me a revolutionary line of skincare products made from ingredients found in the Dead Sea

I just really hate when strangers invade my personal space.

Midway through this rant, I remembered just how much I hate the word "hate" so I'm going to replace it with a watered-down, less aggressive word.

When Kiosk Guy violates my personal bubble, I have fantasies of retaliating in a totally obnoxious way, so he'll think twice next time. But instead of blowing my rape whistle in his face or flipping him off, I go with the old passive-aggressive standby: pretending to talk on my cell phone. Sometimes, during my fake phone conversation, our eyes lock, and I know what he's thinking: "I know you're not really on the phone", and I look at him like, "I dare you to interrupt my fake phone conversation, sucka!" The closest I came to tangling with Kiosk Guy was when I was (extremely) pregnant, and he jumped in front of me and blurted, "Miss, would you like to--" and I shouted, "NOOOOOO I WOULDDDDDN'T!!!!!"

For somebody who clearly despises the mall as much as I do, one might conclude that online shopping is my ideal solution. There's just one problem: I'm married to a retail professional who is of the belief that online shopping will be the demise of retail, which will lead to the demise of our economy, which will lead to the demise of democracy. Or something like that. So, even though there's this hot new pair of Steve Madden platform pumps I just have to have, and I could have purchased them online, three days ago, in about five minutes time, I am schlepping through my third least favorite place on earth (#1 is the airport, #2 is the DMV), pushing a stroller through the frozen tundra, wearing platform clogs. Welcome to my nightmare.

Unfortunately, strollers require the use of an elevator. As the doors finally open on the world's slowest elevator, I stand aside to allow a mom with three kids and a jogging stroller to get off. And boy, do they take their sweet ass time. They come to a dead stop--right between me and the elevator, barring my entry. Everybody knows this particular elevator's doors only stay open for a nanosecond. After that, it's five whole minutes for it to come back. We're inches apart, yet Stroller Mom has no idea I exist. If she would just scoot, I can push my Go-Go Gadget arm out and hold the elevator. Once she finally begins to move, Stroller Mom notices me and says, "Oh!" and attempts to "help" me in the way your three year old "helps" you frost a cake. Sweet gesture in theory, hot mess in reality. Stroller Mom lunges between me and the elevator, much to my bewilderment, and instead of stopping the elevator, she mashes all the buttons, causing the elevator door to slam shut in my face and take off for the third floor where presumably nobody is waiting.

Realizing what she'd done, she says "Oops!" I let out a sigh and give her a withering look. Ok, "withering look" is just a euphemism for "bitchface". This bitchface was so blatant, Shannen Doherty got a royalty check for it. Shannen owns the rights to "bitchface"!

Stroller Mom freezes, apologizes, and her eyes twitch. That's when I realize that she sees my bitchface. Dammit. Ever since my Botox wore off last year, everybody knows what I'm thinking. That's the glorious thing about Botox (besides not aging). No matter what I'm feeling on the inside, my forehead is as smooth and placid as the ocean on a peaceful day. Without it, my angry forehead is as choppy as the ocean in The Perfect Storm, and that didn't end well. (Spoiler: Everybody dies!)

After much delay, I arrive at the Steve Madden store, where I learn that none of the seven area locations carry this particular shoe.

Disappointed but not defeated, I roll into Nordstrom. No blue suede shoes here, either. I inquire with the sales associate, explaining, "Well, I know which shoe I need, and it's available for purchase at SteveMadden.com, but I figured I'd try to support my local economy and purchase the shoe from a brick-and-mortar store..." "Yeah..." he sighed. And no luck buying the picture frame I wanted from Pottery Barn, which was also available for online purchase. This is just a big shopping FAIL. There's only one thing left to do...go to Williams-Sonoma, where I can indulge my love of overpriced spatulas.

As I'm exiting Nordstrom, I pass A Pea in the Pod. "Mama doesn't shop there anymore!" I say to Robinson, who smiles. Next door is Bebe. "Mama doesn't shop there anymore, either!" [Sigh]. Robinson laughs, as I gaze longingly at all the slutty halter tops I'll never wear.

Kris Kardashian and I have one thing in common: bitch loves her some colored spatulas. I thought I was the only one.

Did you see the episode where Khloe tries to help Kris organize her kitchen and discovers that Kris hoards red spatulas? No? Just me? Damn. Williams-Sonoma carries different colored spatulas throughout the year. After some careless cake frosting last fall, Libby ate my last red spatula, and I knew that I had to replace them quickly before the pastel spatulas arrived and ushered in springtime (yeah, you thought it was the Groundhog. You're wrong, it's the Williams-Sonoma pastel spatulas that signal the end of winter.) So, I left the mall with one orange spatula and one yellow spatula. Not exactly a pair of blue suede platform pumps, but I'll take what I can get.

New Blog Design (Obviously!)

Shabby Blogs is a cute little site offering lovely (and free) blog backgrounds, headers and more. I got a message that I had to update my codes, yada, yada, yada...my original background is no longer available. I hastily threw together the layout you currently see. What do we think? It's like the blog equivalent of a sweater set and a strand of pearls, and anybody who knows me knows that a sweater set and pearls looks so out-of-place on me. Unless I am dressing as Bree Van de Kamp for Halloween.

I think my blog might be too snarky for such a classy layout. Maybe I'll change it. I need something for sassy blogs. What do you think?

Doing Good Deeds: More Inconvenient Than Ever Before

I hope your dog never runs away. If your dog ever does run away, I hope I'm the one who finds it. And if I am the one who finds it, I hope your dog doesn't have some complicated, pain-in-the-ass ID tag recovery system, forcing me to jump through all sorts of hoops in order for me to return said dog to your loving arms.

Last week, Robinson and I were enjoying a nice, long stroll through the neighborhood, when I notice a big, black puppy scampering in my direction, clearly AWOL. It looks like a black lab, and it looks to be about six months old--so it's basically all lanky legs, and "it" appears to be a "she" based on the pink collar she's wearing. I scan my perimeter, expecting to see somebody running frantically towards me with a leash, struggling to catch up with this boisterous pup (it's happened before), but it's just the three of us: Rob, puppy, and me. I pause my iPod (I was listening to "Love Today" by Mika) and I'm able to read the tags on her collar. This is a delicate task with an excited dog, because you have to have a firm enough grasp in order to read the tags, but if you're not careful, the pup can pull out of her collar and then you're standing there holding a collar while the dog gallops off into the distance without her identifying information and you're stuck feeling like a jerk. Then there's the whole, "not wanting to get bitten by a strange dog" thing.

I should back up for a minute and say that I have a lot of experience picking up and returning other people's dogs. I would estimate that one out of every three times I go for a walk, I catch, rescue, return, or otherwise wrangle somebody else's dog. Sometimes I take the dog back to my house and dog sit all day, sometimes I load the dog into my car and drive him home. It varies.

No big deal, right? The puppy is wearing a tag. I'll just dial the number and tell the person who answers that I have their puppy and all will be fine, right? First of all, this was not your typical dog tag that says "LANEY" in big block letters with a phone number beneath it. It was a yellow plastic tag that displayed a 1-866- number in raised yellow numbers (so not easy to read on a squirmy puppy), and beneath it, instead of a name, is a ten-digit alpha-numeric ID. And me without my glasses! Perfect. Good thing I applied the parking break to my stroller and Robinson is content (must not forget baby, right?) because I have to dial a phone number while reading this hard-to-read tag and not lose my grip of this puppy who is growing more fidgety by the second.

After much maneuvering, I manage to dial the number:

THEN I have to wait while it rings
THEN I have to listen to a lengthy, automated message with a menu
THEN I select "English"
THEN I listen to another automated message, this time an advertisement
"Are you f*$#!ng kidding me?" I ask the puppy. She doesn't reply.
THEN I select "Report a found pet"
THEN I have to wait while it rings
THEN somebody finally answers

I'm still holding the dog, remember? It's a good thing this is a friendly puppy. If this dog were some kind of bratty mutt, it would have bitten me by now and I would have said "Forget this!" But I can't do that. I have this unstoppable compulsion to "save" every dog I see. For all my bitching, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night had I not done this.

So anyway, I'm finally speaking to a human, and he sounds like Chris Griffin from Family Guy.  I decide that he looks like Chris Griffin from Family Guy also. I will picture Chris Griffin in my mind for the rest of the conversation.

Me: Hi, I found a puppy, I better read her ID to you before she wiggles out of my grasp again.
Chris Griffin: OK...
Me: [reading off ten digit alpha-numeric] D as in dog, F as in Frank, M as in Mary, 5,7...
Chris Griffin: Ok...[reading, verifies and collects info from me] She goes by "Candy".
Me: That's funny, because she looks like a "Candy".

I'm looking down at her like, "Oh, so you 'go by' Candy, do ya? I suppose when you reach adulthood you'll insist everyone call you 'Candice'."

Me: So, um...how do we proceed? I have a baby in a stroller, a dog with no leash, no owners in sight, and I'm about a half a mile from my house. Attempting to tote this dog around could get cumbersome.
Chris Griffin: I can place you on hold and call the owners...
Me: I think that's a great idea.

I'm placed on hold for at least a minute. If the owners had just used an ordinary ID tag with their dog's name and phone number instead of using this elaborate "pet recovery system" I could have called them five minutes ago. Then I begin to wonder--are they weird paranoid people who are afraid for their dog to wear a tag bearing their phone number? Do they think somebody will find their roaming dog and use that information to hold the dog ransom, become a psycho stalker, or steal their identity? Seriously, what's the deal? As I'm crafting theories about Candy's owners, Chris Griffin returns to the line.

Chris Griffin: Ok, they didn't answer, so I left a voicemail.
Me: Alright...[awkward silence] So...where do we go from here?
Chris Griffin: If you are unable to retain custody of the pet until they are recovered by their owner, you can call your nearest veterinary hospital, and they will--
Me: Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I'll simply fashion a leash out of my iPod earbuds and we'll trot on back to my house until her owner's call me.
Chris Griffin: [pause] Oh, were you being serious?
Me: Completely.

So, Chris and I say our goodbyes and as I begin to walk Candy down the street towards home, a middle-aged man is frantically running towards me. He thanks me, and attempts to walk/carry her home. I don't tell him that his "pet recovery system" is a cluster f*$# of unspeakable proportions. After all, he did recover his pet, didn't he?

I'm Back! Maybe.

Woo Hoo! Happy New Year, y'all! You may have noticed a steep decline in my blogging activity--I atribute this to: 1) my head 2) my thighs 3) my computer. Not necessarily in that order.

I spent the first five days of 2011 in bed after being struck with, then recovering from, a series of migraines. Or cluster headaches. Or I have a brain tumor. I don't want to speculate. But I did go to WebMD and diagnose myself with a subarachnoid hemmorhage. "Samantha! I didn't know you were a hypochondriac!". I'm not a hypochondriac, you big silly. A hypochondriac would have submitted to about $8000 worth of diagnostic testing by now--MRIs, CT scans, angioplasty, spinal taps. I did none of that. I just declared "I have a subarachnoid hemmorhage!" and retreated to my bed. I'm feeling much better now.

The other roadblock standing between me and my blog was this damn computer. Despite my spending my last $70 on friggin McAfee virus protection (FAIL) my computer is riddled with so many viruses, spyware, malware, and trojan horses (I assume) that attempting to compose a blog entry is a lengthy, time-consuming affair. Posting photos? Fuggetaboutit. After threatining to smash the computer with a hammer (dramatic much?), Steve made a couple of calls and we have a new suped-up computer scheduled to arrive any day now. Happy days are here again!

The third obstacle preventing me from blogging is this big ass of mine. Robinson is nearly six months old, and I'm still forced to wear Raven-Symoné's old discarded big-girl clothes. If I'm sitting in front of a molasses-slow computer blogging about Lindsay Lohan's triumph over addiction ::sarcasm:: how exactly am I supposed to work on my fitness? Blogging is hardly aerobically effective (says Cher Horowitz).

In spite of all of that, here I am. So...what should I write about? I had so many ideas in the past month that now seem out-of-date, but I'll do my best to catch up.

Beware the Cougar Kroger

Ladies: hide yo' husbands, because there's homewreckin' hussies lurking in the cereal aisle of your local grocery store, ready to pounce on your man! I have a whole new sympathy for Jenny Aniston.

We have two Krogers within a two-mile radius of our house. There's the Kroger on Main, which is surrounded mainly by tasteful, modest homes and the regular folks who live in them, and then there's the other Kroger, which is surrounded by McMansions and the silicone-injected trophy wives who inhabit those luxury homes. Steve calls it the "yummy mummy Kroger". There is a markedly higher hotness quotient in the women who shop at this Kroger. When making a Kroger stop on the way home from work last week, guess which Kroger was most convenient for Steve? I'm telling you, nothing good happens at the Cougar Kroger.

Steve: The weirdest thing happened at Kroger. I didn't go to the one down the road, I went to the other one.
Me: M.I.L.F. Central?
Steve: Yep.
Me: Everything ok?
Steve: Well, while I was shopping, I felt like somebody was watching me, but I just ignored it. Then, in the parking lot, this lady was waiting out there and shouted at me like, "Hey!" like you would if you wanted to get somebody's attention...to help you or whatever. I was like, "Yes?" and she said, "I noticed you while you were shopping and thought you were very attractive. I didn't notice your wedding band before, but I see it now." and I was like, "Yep. Happily married. We just had a baby boy." and she was like, "Well I'd still like to get your phone number..." and I said, "Well I'm flattered, but I'm pretty happy, so I'm gonna pass," and she said "Well, that's too bad..."

"That's too bad?" It's "too bad" that a married, new father doesn't want to cheat on his wife? Yes! Hooker hears that he has a wife and a new baby at home and she wanted his phone number anyway. That trollop! Get your own man! Steve did mention that she was hot. I, still living in my post-baby "chunky" phase am understandably not thrilled by this news, but at least secure enough to know that chunky or not, my husband is not going to take up with some tramp who stalked him in a grocery store parking lot. So there.

Steve was really caught off guard by the whole thing. He found it all very off-putting. I'll agree, it's pretty "Swimfan". I, always having to over-analyze (obviously) couldn't help but wonder aloud: What sort of woman values herself so little that she would want to get involved with the sort of man who would cheat on his wife who just gave birth to his child? Any man who would do that is no man at all. Shouldn't she want better for herself? Steve just shakes his head at me as if I'm trying to start a conversation about nuclear fission.

Sidenote: there's a teensy part of me that is feeling smugly proud that I'm married to the sort of man who strange women can't resist propositioning in parking lots. Is that bad?

Fun with Google

We've done this before, but the time has come once again. Here is a list of the Google searches that brought readers to the blog.

All About Bolton
michael bolton new baby

michael bolton halloween costume

reactions to michael bolton's score
why did bruno hate on michael bolton on dwts
micheal bolton what a baby
michael bolton mask


Style
how to make a cheese costume
brooke burke - what dress was she wearing last week
wardrobe department and bristol palin
5 grown men dressed as care bears

meat gown lady gaga
teresa giudice chincilla

booty bump as seen on tv

chola eye brows
pink leopard rear view mirror dice
crimson tide tattoos


Sexy Timessexy my baba mom is
sexy tawny kitaen
did miners jerk off
free hot teen sex video 2010



The Hills
audrina patride's mom rants

Lynn patridge, transcript
audrina second class actress

the hills audrina kissing to pictures
absence is to love quotes from hills show
lo the hills baby
the hills mtv all of brody girl friends


Cheerleading Controversies cheerleader booty beeg

back aching and the skirt being too tight i don’t understand
little cheerleader kicked off team


That's What She Said
chevy chase weekend update thats what she said
that's what she said
i can't stay on top 24/7 that's what she said
who coined that's what she said


Mutts, Obviously
mutts for commercials

what's wrong with mutts?
mutts 6 year old

no mutts sex




Miscellenous Reality Stars
maksim brandy

kendra wilkinson high school

olivia from jerseylicious
tawny kitaen hot


Quotations
im not the type to get involved in small relationships...
it was very brave of her to stand up to nobody at all and demand unnamed rights that have not in any way been stripped from her , because they are imaginary .

i m christina hawthorne i run this

the soup gaga very brave of her to stand up

Random
ariel with a fork
cinnamon toast crunch commercial + woman + dog
willow smith exploited
willow smith puppet
husbands against fantasy football

jenna bush hager pregnant?
workplace gossip litigations

google babys fun
babybeef CHOIS
post op gender reassignment
pregnancy survival kit
werther's carmel commercials are annoying

miss trunchbull

spellinggg is 4 loserrrs

So, I awoke this morning with two text messages in my inbox. One was a sweet message from Steve, and the other was from what was obviously a wrong number, sent bright and early at 6:26am:

".-iknoee riqht im finna be a fuqkinqq partyy animal for the rest of thee week.! .*' | Li'Lexuss A Fuqkinq Savaqee | '*.

I choose to believe that the last part is her "signature" that is sent with every text message.

I never cease to be amazed by what some people will do to the English language. I wondered why "Li'Lexuss" was unable to unleash her inner party animal until Wednesday. That tells me she has some sort of responsibility, like a job or school (please let it be school, please let it be school).

Even smart youngsters take liberties with the English language in ways I don't fully understand. I have a cousin who is eleven years younger than me, and when she used to Myspace me when she was in high school, she'd be like, "heyyy hows liffffe?" At first I thought it was a lazy typo situation, then I thought maybe her keyboard was sticking, but I eventually learned that it's how all the cool kids type. To be a cool kid, you have to casually mispell simple words, add extra letters to words (usually consonants), and ignore all rules regarding capitalization and punctuation. Especially apostrophes.

Steve and I have a friend who we met through golf. She is currently a college sophomore, but we've known her for years. She has worked for him during her summer break, and she came to my baby shower. She's a sweetie pie. She and Steve text each other to stay in touch. One day, I had to have a conversation with Steve about how mispelling words is "what the kids are doing these days", because he couldn't understand her text message. Now when we talk to her, it goes something like this:

Steve: [typing on his phone]. Oh, Kyndal says "hi". She wants to come visit the baby.
Me: Oh! That sweet girl. Tell her I said "Hey" with three "y"s.
Steve: What? "heyyy"?
Me: Yep.
Steve: Oh, she just said "heyyy :)"
Me: That's right. [wink]

25 Things You Don't Know About Me

First it was a Facebook thing, now it's an Us Weekly staple, I figure it's high time I make a run at it. Here's 25 things you don't know about me:

1. Each night, I take a bath in water that is so hot, if Elmer Fudd were here he'd start chopping up vegetables and trying to make a stew out of me.
2. Four Mutts and a Baby: I have a recurring dream where I "inherit" an orphaned dog, who I always name "Pam".
3. As a child, I shared a last name with a country music singer who was well-known in the 1970's and 1980's. I was frequently asked if we were related, and would tell people we were cousins. It wasn't until I was around 25 that I learned we are not in fact related. 
4. I was born in south Louisiana. Cajun Country, land of the black-haired black-eyed people. My claim to fame has always been that I was the only redhead born in Lafayette General Hospital in 1981. A couple years ago, I learned that wasn't actually true either.
5. I may have a smidge of body dysmorphic disorder: when I look in the mirror, I see a girl who is at least 20 pounds lighter than I actually am. When I see photos of myself, I am always shocked and horrified.
6. "I Love My Calendar Girl": In sixth grade, my English teacher assigned us to enter an essay contest. I was one of thirteen winners in the state of Alabama. The contest was held by a geriatric society, and the winners were featured in their annual calendar. My Nannie and I represented the month of April for the 1995 calendar. My first and only award for my writing.
7. To this day, I harbor a grudge against the late George Carlin, because he was once rude to my father in an elevator (circa 1978). ("Do you really expect me to put my suitcase down to shake your hand?") The jerk.
8. While a junior at Auburn, I adopted Laney from the Sheltie Rescue of Georgia. Knowing my parents wouldn't approve, I waited days to tell them. It was the first and only time I can remember my dad being mad at me. When I finally shared the news, I lied and said Steve gave her to me as a "surprise". My mom was angry at Steve and barely spoke to him for months, until Steve made me confess the truth.
9. I had difficulty naming Laney, because I wanted to choose a name that Steve, my roommate Kelsey, and I all liked. I finally settled on the name "Laney" when I blurted it out while holding a stack of DVDs in my lap. On top of the stack? My Big Fat Greek Wedding, starring Nia Vardalos and Lainie Kazan. I just changed to a simpler spelling.
10. I suffer from chronic back pain, stemming from a 1998 cheerleading accident.
11. The aforementioned accident took place during a football game, when a play ran out of bounds, and several players from both teams tackled me.
12. Film footage from that game (including my tackle) was viewed by both teams, as well as every team that was scheduled to play my team and the opposing team for the rest of the season. I later learned that everybody watched my tackle over and over again...in slow motion. Apparently my short and sassy ponytail whipping wildly in the air was must-see-tv.
13. The only physical traits Robinson and I share are my chin and my crooked big toes.
14. I am Steve's 2nd wife. 
15. My very first childhood pets were a scottie dog mix named Bo and a toy poodle named BJ. They were gone before Jarred was born, and to this day my parents insist "They really did go live on a farm!"
16. BJ the poodle was adopted from one of mom's customers at the department store where she was a buyer: a drag queen who wanted to give BJ away because she kept getting into his/her makeup. Mom said his house looked like Liberace's palace.
17. Speaking of drag queens, there was a period in 2008 where I attended many drag shows in support of a friend who is a well-respected female impersonator. At the time, Leona Lewis' hit song "Bleeding Love" was a favorite of the performers. To this day, whenever I hear the song, all I see is transvestites in fishnet dresses.
18. I do not own any pink clothes. Except for a well-worn pair of size Large Victoria's Secret sweatpants.
19. My all-time favorite eyeshadow is "Prop" by Lancome. I've been wearing it since 2001. It was discontinued in 2005, at which time the friendly ladies at my local Lancome counter kindly gave me all of their unused professional-use shadows. I'm down to the last one, and I'm gonna have a major case of the sads when it's gone.
20. My first concert was James Taylor with my dad. I got bored and made him take me home before James sang "Fire and Rain". We listened to it in the parking lot.
21. I always use an orange toothbrush.
22. I'm no longer active on Myspace, but I will never delete my account, because I have a good friend who passed away, and our back-and-forth messages on Myspace along with a few snapshots are all I have left of her.
23. I'm accident prone: In seventh grade, I lost my balance and jammed my middle finger during a tornado drill. The finger became so swollen, I had to call my dad to check me out of school and drive me to the fire station to have my ring cut off my finger. This was the second time I had jammed said finger. It's still bigger than my other middle finger.
24. The only actors I've ever met were Cammie King and Butterfly McQueen, the actresses who played Bonnie Blue Butler and Prissy in Gone with the Wind.
25. I'm pretty superstitious, so I'm afraid I'm jinxing myself by telling you that I've never broken a bone.

Words Men Should Never Say

Are you ever having a conversation with a male co-worker, or perhaps on a date, or listening to a coach speak in a press conference after a ballgame, when a man says a word that makes you go "chicka-chicka-wha?!" It just sounds so...wrong.

I'm not referring to vulgarities or politically incorrect language. I'm talking about regular words in the English language, that when I hear a man say it, I want to tap him on the shoulder and say, "Excuse me, sir? Yeah, I'm gonna need you to hand over one of your 'Man Cards'. I'll give it back to you when you know how to use it." I used to work with a guy--he was such a sweetheart--but I was always having to confiscate his Man Cards and teach him how to talk. I think he appreciated my help.  

I find it very off-putting when I hear a grown man use the word "crap". "That's a load of crap!" It's so emasculating, it's like, profanity by Nickelodeon. I get that you don't want to say "shit" because you're in mixed company or on national television, but saying "crap" makes you sound so inarticulate. "Crap" is what a third grader says when they can't say what they really want to say. Use your words, and say what you really mean. Was it "ridiculous"? "absurd"? "a lie"? "an excuse"? It was not a load of "crap". Find a better word.

There are other words [heterosexual] men should never say, either because they're too feminine, or too specific, or they make a guy sound like a tool. I had some help from my husband and my brother in answering the question: What word do you never want to hear a man say? Oh, and they have actually heard other men say these words, that's their source material.

• crap
• cute
• outfit
• weep
• bro
• boink
• mommy
• blouse
• terrific
• [hair] product
• exquisite
• peep toe
• mojito
• mani-pedi
• fabulous
• taffeta
• yummy

What words have you heard a man use that made you pump the brakes?

Paranoid Much?

Recently, I was lured to the Arkansas wilderness with the promise of fried catfish. Steve co-sponsors an annual golf tournament that takes place at DeGray State Park, and at the last minute he invited Robinson and me to join him. I really learned a lot about my own neuroses and paranoia through this trip. Here's a rundown. I'll warn you: it's embarrassing.

Steve: Y'all come with me to Arkansas
Me: What will we do while you're on the golf course?
Steve: They have walking trails. You and Rob could go for a walk through the state park.
Me: Is it safe?
Steve: I'm not sure if the trails are paved.
Me: No, is it safe?
Steve: Safe from what?
Me: Serial killers.
Steve: [silence] I'm pretty sure.

[we roll into the state park at 12:30 am. It's pitch dark, and nobody is around]

Steve: Y'all wait right here, I'll get us checked in to the lodge.
Me: [looking around] How will I defend myself in the event of an ambush?
Steve: [laughing] An ambush by who, park rangers?
Me: [gravely serious] No. Serial killers.
Steve: Where is this coming from?
Me: [sigh] A man killed some women in Yosemite.
Steve: There is no serial killer in this state park.
Me: I feel fairly certain there is somebody, somewhere in this state park, who would be willing to kill me. The question is, will they find me?
Steve: Wow.

[Three days later]

Steve: I have a voicemail from Frisco Police. They say there were two noise complaints against us because the dogs were barking.
[I'm immediately overcome with guilt over leaving them, and anxiety that Laney and Libby have met with foul play].
Me: Laney has separation anxiety! What if she worked herself up into a frenzy and had a heart attack and died?
Steve: Laney isn't dead.
Me: What if the angry neighbor exacted revenge on the dogs because they wouldn't shut up?
Steve: What?
Me: What if somebody hurled rat poison over the fence, and the dogs ate it?
Steve: Nobody does that.
Me: Yes they do. And the fence isn't locked. What if somebody shot or stabbed them?
Steve: You need to stop.
Me: I have a shooting pain in my side. Why do you have to tell me they're in trouble when we're three hours away?
Steve: Relax, it'll be fine.

That night, while Robinson and I are home alone and it's dark outside, I hear a knock at the door. I never answer the door at night. Or when I'm home alone. Or ever. The last time I answered the door, I met a Biggie Smalls look-alike. He was a recovering heroin addict who had turned his life around and was going door-to-door collecting donations for the nonprofit organization he credits with helping him. I realized that under different circumstances, my friendly exchange with the large, imposing man could have ended differently. I'm fairly certain that all recovering junkies are not so courteous as he.

Two nights later, 8:00 pm. I had just arrived home from Target. Another knock at the door. Convinced it's the disgruntled neighbor coming over to air his grievances, I refuse to answer. The visitor lingers for an uncomfortably long time. He or she finally leaves, and I do what anybody would have done in my situation: I called the police.

Me: I have a bitter neighbor with an ax to grind, who may be stalking me.

They send an officer to my house. He informs me that it was he who rang my doorbell. I inform him that I have seen way to many episodes of 48 Hours Mystery and Forensic Files to answer my door to an unknown visitor (I have no peep hole, and there are windows on either side of my door, making it impossible to see who is at the door without them seeing me. I hid in my laundry room until he left.) Anyway, he said that during the one hour I was at Target, my neighbors called the cops on me again to complain about my dogs barking. In the end, I was glad I called the police (something most people would have considered an overreaction) because:

1. I got a little face time with one of Frisco's finest. He was super nice.
2. I got a little education on city ordinances
3. The officer told me my baby was pretty
4. I am no longer concerned that the lady next door hates me and my dogs. 
5. I don't have to be scared, because nobody is stalking me.

It's Not Nice to Make Fun of People

...but that doesn't stop our man Steve.

Last night, while we're watching TV and I'm feeding Robinson, an ad for one of the gubernatorial candidates comes on:

Steve: Bill White looks like the Nestle mug. Look at those ears.
Me: [looking at Robinson] Mmm, that makes me want hot chocolate.
Steve: Do you know what I'm talking about, the Nestle mug? With the bunny ears for a handle?
Me: I am not familiar.
Steve: You're f*%#ing lying!
Me: [deadpan] Why would I lie about that?

After a quick Google image search on my phone:

Me: [looking at phone] Ahh, ok. I see it.
Steve: [excitedly] You're motherf*%#ing right!
Me: Easy. Simmer down now.

Birthday Buddies!

Who shares a birthday with me?

Rachael Leigh Cook (31)
Alicia Silverstone (34)
Liev Schreiber (43)
Russell Simmons (53)
Susan Sarandon (64)
Anne Rice (69)
Jackie Collins (73)

A Birthday Card To Myself

My birthday isn't usually greeted with much fanfare. I don't get mad at friends who forget it, I don't expect everyone to clear their schedules to celebrate it, and I only resent working on my birthday if I hate my job in the first place.

I'm pretty out of sorts today, but not because I'm turning 29. Frankly, I don't think turning 29 is something to be upset about. Besides eating cake and sipping champagne, my birthday is usually a day where I remember my friends who don't have birthdays anymore, and that helps to put into perspective any shallow feelings I may have about getting older, and makes me thankful for my blessings and the people in my life. Color me wistful.

What sets this birthday apart from other birthdays is that it is the last birthday of my 20's. Besides the realization that my youth is slowly slipping away from me, the notion of losing my identity as a "twentysomething" and gaining a new identity as a "thirtysomething" is surreal. It's not bad, it's just different.

So, in honor of my birthday, it's birthday week here at Three Mutts and a Baby, and my posts will mostly be of a birthday nature. Giddyup!
If you're feeling like a horse's ass for not sending me a birthday present, you can give the gift of positive reinforcement by becoming a "Follower" of Three Mutts and a Baby!

...I'm feeling the love already! xoxo