Ask and You Shall Receive

So after last night's quick post, apologizing for my lack of writing on here, I spent the evening and the better part of the morning trying to think of something to blog about.

Then this fell in my lap on the way to work this morning, and really, how could you not post something about this ridiculousness:

http://www.wescooppoop.com/

Yes, I passed a pick-up truck for the "We Scoop Poop" people, better known as "Dog Duty." For only $9 a week, you can rid your backyard of all of that poop your dog does.

Or you can save yourself $9 bucks and bag it up yourself. OR, do what Justin and I do, just leave it -- and in a few weeks it goes away on its own, and your grass is greener for it.

I think my favorite part of the Web site is the FAQ section. For example, the first question in my mind is, "What in the heck do you do with the poop after your scoop it? Do you have a manure pile somewhere?" And that just happens to be the first question! Their answer:

"We leave the bag at your house in the roll-away trash can. If you keep your trash can inside your garage, then we leave the bag next to your garage door farthest away from your front door."

Personally, that's just asking for some stupid 14-year-old to walk by and set it on fire, but that's just my opinion.

Another good question, "I have a scary dog. Will you still scoop my yard?"

My answer -- why would you make some poor individual pick up scary dog poop? Why do you have a scary dog in the first place? Anyways, their answer is pretty much yes.

Now, to be fair, after looking at their site, they also provide lawn service and pet sitting -- so they aren't exactly hanging their hat on trying to make a buck picking up just dog crap.

Well, hello there

I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted. It’s funny, because I’ve wrote a few posts, but ended up erasing them and/or not posting them. Guess it’s like calling an old friend you haven’t talked to in awhile. You think about it, and eventually you do it, but it takes a few tries.

So, hello. Long time no talk. ;)




Maybe this posting is more like an answering machine message.

Oh, bother Solved!

Okay, after I calmed down, I went to the ever-wonderful Fitness Magazine Web site (love that magazine!) at found the following document: http://images.meredith.com/fitness/images/pdf/6WeeksTo30Minutes.pdf

It's a workout plan designed to get the beginner runner in shape and kickin' it in time for a 5k. They also had a section for preparing for a 10k, triathlons, marathons, etc. I doubt I'll get that far, but now that I have a plan and direction, my goal is to not look like a running idiot in front of my co-workers ;) I'll keep you guys posted on how I do.

Oh, Bother

I’m freaking out – it’s a month before and I’m freaking out!!

Okay, so here’s the deal – my work is the sponsoring a group of employees for the annual Silicon Labs Relay Marathon. Relay marathon means that you split up the 23 miles for a marathon among five people (I think five people)… So something like, two people do a 10k, one person does a 12k and two people do a 5k. One of the 5k co-workers will be out of town this weekend and I stupidly raised my hand to replace her yesterday afternoon.

And less than 24 hours later, here I am, freaking out. To clarify, I did the 5K Bun Run back in April in about 36 minutes, which is great considering it was my first 5K ever and I’m not that great at running. The problem is, everyone on the team that I’m running with are seasoned pros at running (you know, the ones that are at Town Lake every day or that I see running in my neighborhood with her husband at seven in the morning). So essentially, I’m totally ruining their chances at winning because I suck.

So I have four weeks to prepare (it’s Sept. 29) starting today (I would have started last night, but my piano lesson went to two hours). I’m going to puke, and I haven’t even started running yet.

Why I Blog

I was going through some old boxes my Mom had in a closet a few months back, and stumbled across journals and school projects dating back to elementary school. My favorite document was something my fourth grade teacher sent back to me a year or two ago as she was cleaning out some of her files. Apparently I created this personal dictionary and my own bound book. I’m not going to lie – the stuff was total crap. I mean, how did my parents allow me to turn in such blatant misuse of English for a grade?

Point being – I love writing. I enjoy expressing myself via words – even more so than playing my violin or piano (which honestly, is more like interpretation than expression [as you’re playing someone else’s music for the most part], so it probably isn’t an apples to apples comparison). I remember going to creative writing classes, submitting poems and stories growing up for local contests, and sadly, writing the worst lyrics to songs that I never put music to ;)

That love of writing (and incorrect English usage) got tested my senior year of high school, when a requirement in one of my classes was to write in a journal every other day and submitting the stupid thing for a grade (1-5 scale).

Before we began this year-long assignment, I remember the teacher saying that she rarely gave out 5s. Once that tidbit was revealed, my personal goal for this class (a.k.a. competitive side) suddenly became how many 5s I could get.

I tried everything – sad, happy, wit, humor, insight, death, one page, three pages – to no avail. I never got a single 5, and usually hovered around the 2-3 range, with the occasional 4. Most of the time, the teacher would just complain what a poor writer I was, which I now find slightly ironic since I write for a living. (So, odd thank you for nearly train-wrecking my career path – you made me work that much harder.)

But thinking back, I do think it’s a little wrong to rate a student’s (or anyone else for that matter) equivalent to a forced-personal journal. It’s almost like judging this person’s thoughts, emotions and experiences based on your own set agenda. Now, if she had given us assignments (I want you to write about your thoughts of Chapter 8 from “Cry the Beloved Country”), I could see justification for such grades. But really, it should just be a simple completion grade more than anything. Especially if this perfect score was so subjective. I could probably go into a longer discussion about how most grades are subjective, but I don’t feel like talking about it right now.

Tying it to my present writing, it’s different than a blog – writing that I choose to share and fully expect you to judge how poorly or well-written and insightful each post is based on your own internal criteria that I may or may not be fully aware of. (Talk about a run-on…) Part of me will always care what others think, but at the end of the day, I write this blog for me – to allow the free movement of creative juices, let off steam, express the randomness in my head, voice my latest triumph (or failure) and share who I am and who I want to be.

The End

Right out of a sitcom

This weekend, Justin spent the whole weekend studying and writing for his graduate paper that’s due Tuesday, which meant I was free to go and party! (Note: I would have been free to do that no matter what Justin was doing, it just sounds better that way for storytelling purposes)

After some discussion earlier in the week, Ashley and I decided to go to Hamilton Pool – it is this natural watering hole about 40 minutes West of Austin (between Bee Caves and Dripping Springs). You hike about a quarter of a mile down a fairly steep hill and can either go to the left – where you can continue hiking to the Pernadales River – or take a right towards the watering hole.

I’m not going to lie (my new catch phrase if you’ve been around me the last few weeks), it’s gorgeous. Literally, this amazing, God-created goodness for city folk like myself.

We got there super early, and stayed for about an hour – once people start coming, the area gets a tad crowded and kids are yelling, ruining the serenity of it all.

So, um, we decided to spend the next three hours laying out the country club. Total 180 right? About three weeks ago, one of my friend’s, Kim, told Ashley and me that we look iridescent. So we stayed out about an hour too long at the pool and our backs are red as some random metaphor I can’t think of at the moment.

To make our backs a little worse, today we decided to go hike the Greenbelt and then layout (only on our backs) at Barton Springs. We’re really asking for it. And apparently this 10-year-old walking by us thought we were too.

I’m laying there with my eyes closed, and I hear this voice from in front of me say, “You know doin’ that causes skin cancer, right?”

I open one of my eyes, look around, find the girl through my squinting, and respond, “The key is moderation – if you don’t do this all of the time and use sun screen, you’ll be fine.”

I thought, honestly, that would shut the kid up. I mean, how hypocritical of her – standing there, in the same sun as I am – telling me I’m going to get skin cancer.

And then she’s like, “I’m serious. You’re going to get skin cancer.” At this point, I’m looking around for her parents so she can leave me to my sun/skin cancer.

I politely smile at her and lower my head back onto the towel, hoping the gesture will signal her to try the next group of sunbathers to my right.

“Maybe this will cool you off!” And the kid, out of nowhere, pulls a water gun and sprays me. Then she turns and sprays Ashley, walks to the sunbathers next to me, and sprays them too.

I have to admit, the whole thing was funny, except for the fact I would never allow my child to do spray random people while lecturing them on skin cancer.

At the same time, that water sure felt good on my sunburn.

Drugs=Love

I think I was in ninth grade when I told a fellow friend of mine, “If I ever act like that when I’m dating someone, slap me.” I think girls notice it more than guys do – once your girlfriend starts dating someone, you take the back seat, and honestly, they act like idiots.

And I can say this, because the latter half of high school, I’m pretty sure I was one of those idiots. I had a few friends verbally slap me, but it didn’t do me any good.

Looking back at this period of my life, sometimes I wonder why I was such a dipstick. I’m sure my parents think that too. And apparently, now we know why. According to this study I saw on the Today Show this morning (no link is up yet, but I’ll post it once it’s available), researchers took the brain of someone who is spaced out on drugs, and compared it with someone who is in love. Apparently the brain shared many of the same characteristics as someone who does lots of drugs.

The whole thing makes sense, because breakups suck – it’s like you’re going through detox, or you end up with the guy again (can’t break the habit). In fact the more I think about it, the more love is exactly like some type of mind hallucinogen.

That said, I’m quite content with the state of things in my relationship. And I’m pretty sure I don’t act like an idiot or drive my parents bonkers. Of course, it could be that I’m not 17.

Change

I love going to weddings with my husband – he’s a great date – but sometimes I get so embarrassed. Not by him surprisingly – he actually looks pretty sharp when he tries – but by myself.

Take this past weekend for example. We attended the wedding of a friend of ours – I’ve known her since about seventh grade, and Justin knew her ever since elementary Quest days (where the smart kids went during elementary school while the stupid ones got left behind – obviously I’m bitter).

So we’re sitting there looking at the program, and Justin’s holding my hand, and I’m already crying. I don’t even think the grandmothers’ had been escorted down the aisle yet. I just remember looking over at Justin, saying, “She’s going to have a different last name now!! Wahhhh!”

Thinking about this a few days after the fact, I’m still trying to comprehend exactly why the name change upset me. I mean, more than three years ago I changed my name and I didn’t cry over it (though I should have – my former last name ruled).

I guess what it boils down to is the idea of change. I hate change. But, at the end of the day, I’m getting older, parents are getting older, and the decisions and changes we make affect our lives far beyond the decisions we made even seven years ago as college freshman.

And I was going to finish this blog with a really good quote from someone knowledgeable and wax eloquent on change like no other. One of my favorite sites for digging for these types of quotes is www.quotationspage.com and I’ve used it ever since high school debate (see – I don’t change much).

So, I set the search button to only search “classic quotes”; that is, people that are smart and old (Plato, Shakespeare, Margaret Thatcher, etc.). And I come across this quote: “I won't change anything because I think the most important thing is being yourself and that's what I'm going to continue to do.”

Stupid Avril Lavigne. Who the heck told her she is a classic quoter?! And what kind of insight on change is that? Bullcrap. That is one change I would embrace and look forward to – her music and idiocy dropping off the face of the earth.

When marketers go too far...

As if the song wasn't annoying enough already.

My favorite moments from Seattle...

Here are two of my most favorite moments from Seattle:

We're crossing the street and I'm in my beloved Doc Marten sandals from college (rather, running across the street because cars were coming and we were jay walking), and the sole of my shoe comes completely off and I have no time to collect it because cars are coming. Luckily it wasn't run over by the 7-10 cars that went by, and I was able to go fetch it, and take a picture in the process. Yes, I know I'm in need of a pedicure.

Phuket Thai Cuisine. HAHAHA! It's like that South Park episode and the Chinese restaurant called City Wok -- but it's pronounced Shitty Wok. Okay, I'm amused easily and I know that.

Yikes! It's Been Awhile

You know when your uncle asks if you're still blogging, it's been awhile ;)

So I guess that honeymoon period at work is over, because I've been quite busy the last few weeks, which is why my last post is from almost a month ago! As we speak, it's about 9:43 p.m. in Seattle and I've had quite a long day, starting with a great wake-up call from my boss at 6:30 a.m. telling me there was a mini-crisis with the client. Sigh. Glad that got straightened out -- unfortunately, I had to wake up my co-worker who is also in Seattle so we could get the whole situation fixed. Blah. Luckily, it wasn't our fault and we had tons of e-mails to prove it.

After that, I raced to get ready so I could be at an account training down the street for work. Busted out of there after about nine hours, came back to the room to check e-mails, and then ate at Chanantee Family Thai -- apparently one of the best Thai places in Seattle. And dang, it was a solid effort, that Phad Thai was. Yum.

We leave tomorrow, and I can't wait to come back to Seattle honestly. I like the people, the environment here, and the downtown owns.

Best part about the trip? I'm rereading the sixth Harry Potter book on the plane ride. I'm halfway after the flight here, so it's realistic to think I can knock out the rest on the way back. Clutch.

Here's a link to some of the places we went downtown (like Rite-Aid... they need these in Texas), and some people flinging fish. Because that's what they do here. Oh, and best part about them flinging the fish? We got all girl giggly when they threw it, started to walk away, and they threw a fake stuffed fish at us. Except we thought it was real at first. We screamed. It was funny. But you probably had to be there. :)

http://www.flickr.com/gp/23677584@N00/R969Vv

You'll note I also took a picture of the ferry area where the scene from Grey's Anatomy was shot. You know, the one where the series jumped the shark with the whole life/death/ghost bullcrap.

Okay, I'm sleepy. My clock here says 9:50, but my computer says 11:50.

People are idiots.

Someone told me about an incident that happened a few months ago with the Washington Post and violinist Joshua Bell. Watch both clips.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0KdAXLSO0Y
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnOPu0_YWhw

Sigh... only one person recognized him. It's not even like the violinish (term loosely used) that sits at the corner between 6th and 7th on Congress that attempts to play.

Today in History

1942: The Office of War Information was created, with the intent of disseminating timely information of American’s war effort through film, texts, photos, radio and posters to its citizens – you know, those super cool-looking “We can do it” posters of women, presumably “doing it.” “It”, I suppose, is subject to interpretation – but I say whatever those women were doing, they were doing “it” better than men.

1966: The Supreme Court ruled on the landmark case – Miranda vs. Arizona – and the “Miranda Right” was created. Personally, I think everyone knows by now that you should have an attorney present before answering any questions, but people somehow still forget. Oh, and you freakin’ idiot cops that don’t read Miranda Rights because you “forget” – I’m onto your game. I’ve seen enough Law and Order to know what you’re trying to pull.

1988: The world didn’t know it, but it was about to witness overuse of the word “Dude” by four-year-old twins – MK and Ashley turn 20 today. I don’t know – I thought they were at least 21… Oh, and fellow former network pal Tim Allen turns 53 today (she types as she sings the Home Improvement theme song).

1994: A jury found Exxon Corp. and the captain of the boat that leaked a ridiculous amount of oil in Alaska, guilty of being idiots with oil and killing some adorable wildlife (I’m pretty sure I sent part of my allowance to help clean up the poor birds that got oil all over them).

2000: Two 18-year-olds decide that their summer is going to be boring as hell if they didn’t have someone to hang out while having make out privileges.

2004: After a pregnancy scare, two 22-year-olds decide that a dog is a much better option. Especially one that comes to your house and immediately passes out on the couch, and who has the coolest old-man name ever.

I Hate MySpace

And yet I continue to log on daily. I can’t stand the fact that half of their features work less than half the time. If I was the Facebook founder, I was be seriously miffed. Facebook is a superior service, yet more people use an inferior product. I suppose it’s the Web 2.0 version of the Microsoft/Apple tale.

I’ve often thought of deleting both accounts all together, just because I’m sick of the time suck each provide, but I correspond with some individuals solely through these two web communities. *Sigh*, why can’t people go back to e-mailing? *Bigger sigh*, why can’t people go back to calling on the phone??*HUGE SIGH*, why are we suddenly confined to devices for interpersonal communication instead of more 1:1 interaction in person???

I guess I understand now why my parents “just didn’t understand” things. I barely understand things now, especially when it comes to teenage interactions – like through MySpace and Facebook. For example, I was watching “High School Musical” for the first time on Saturday (that is a blog entry in itself… good Lord), and at the beginning of the movie when the two leads are exchanging phone numbers, I thought they were just going to write their numbers on a piece of paper. I was seriously thinking to myself, “Why on earth is he taking a picture of her?” Followed by, “Why on earth is she taking a picture of him?” Conclusion: I need to get a camera phone so I can partake in this activity.

Okay, so at the end of the day (or blog), I’m not going to delete either one of these accounts. Maybe it’s because I enjoy both on some level, or I care enough to right a blog rant about it but not actually go through with it. Hmmm.

If you're near a T.V. in Austin...

Check me out on the 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. news discussing what the Las Manitas Cafe forgiveable loan means to downtown and other Austin businesses.

Because apparently I'm an expert on city council agendas and politics.

Because I sit on a bench in front of the restaurant.

Because it was my first time eating at the restaurant.

It's going to be on NBC-KXAN Channel 36 -- I'll see if there will be a video stream on the Web site later.

The New Digs

For the two of you that care, here are some pictures of my workspace at the new job.



This area is to the immediate right of my main sitting area. I have pictures of people, silly decorative items (like my Grey's Anatomy valentine cards), and my coveted Ikea lamp.

I am a firm believer in the two monitor workstation, as I've noticed sharp increases in my productivity. Seriously. Oh, and that's the newest Mr. Potato Head -- it's a transformer -- Optimusmash or something.

This area needs serious work. You can see some Dave stickers at the top, my Bloomberg flipflops acting as a book holder thingy, and some pictures of my husband and dog. Oh, and my phone headset. That's nice when you're in a cube.

In cube world, outside light is glorious. And I have a window that looks out to -- ANOTHER WINDOW. Haha.

Here is the entryway into my cube, with a terrific view of Sixth Street, Whole Foods, the Hill Country and you can't see it in this picture, but the lake. Nice.

Probably the coolest thing about the job is everyone's in cubes -- from the top of the organization to the bottom.

At my previous job, a lot of people made a big deal about the size of their office, what direction it was facing, and then the wee babies were in the cubes. Saddness. Anyways, I like this everyone approach -- it leaves out the drama.

For your viewing pleasure...

I got the eyebrows done this morning -- and because of a few requests, I decided to take some before and after shots.

And in the process, I've decided to share some eyebrow wisdom I learned along the way.

1. Waxing is bad. I got that idea back in November when this idiot screwed up my eyebrows and all of the hair still has not grown back.

2. Waxing is bad because it pulls the hair folicle out in such a way that it takes it six months or longer to grow back (my current problem).

3. Waxing is also bad because it takes a little skin with it -- and in time -- around the 40s is my understanding -- your eye area will start to sag and look older than it should.

So let me just say, my eyebrows -- as she put it -- still have a lot of work to go before everything is fully grown back in and normal. I have these bald spots that make it difficult to fully shape the brows properly.

But, I also learned about where exactly my eyebrows should begin and end, and where my arch should be placed. It was quite informative.

So, take the before and after with a grain of salt -- as I've got some bald spots that need to fill in, but in a year, everything should be back to normal.

And by the by -- the next available appointment I was able to secure is January 4, 2008. Holy crap, this woman needs to duplicate herself.

Why do I have to work?

It’s not that I don’t like working – okay well, really… who likes to really “work” – so let me rephrase. It’s not that I don’t like working at my current establishment, because I do, it’s that my job interferes with a variety of activities I would rather be doing. Like the Alamo Drafthouse’s Summer Kids series.

Okay, within that title states the obvious – I am not a kid; therefore, it would make since that your job would, in fact, appear to interfere with such an activity.

I mean, I really want to see “The Muppets Take Manhattan” on Monday at 11 a.m. – it’s my favorite Muppets movie EVER. Like, I cried when Kermit didn’t recognize Miss Piggy the first time I saw that scene (an subsequently fast forwarded through the scene because it broke my heart to watch that scene).

And Lord, I rolled when Gonzo did the water skiing act with the lady chickens.

AND OMG – the scene where Sweedish Chef takes the two popcorn containers and does his, “Deet deet deet deet deet deet” had me and my sister re-enacting the scene all the time. Seriously, I just paused to do it right now.

Sigh. I don’t like being a grown up. That has to be it. Being five (before kindergarten) was just the most perfect age.

And I didn’t tell you this – but Justin totally tears up when he listens to the John Denver and the Muppets CD – the Christmas album – especially the second song, when Rolf is singing, and then he’s like, “John…” Please tell me you know what I’m talking about!!!

90 is the new 60

I have good genes. I mean, I had a really hard time believing this – mainly because I’m thick through the middle, have occasional acne (which sure as hell beats the breakouts from my pubescent days) – but damn, I’m going to age well, both body and mind.

Well, if I take after two of my grandparents. Well, three – my paternal grandmother was always a little sickly. Anyways, today is my grandfather’s 90th birthday! And I just talked to him, and he played nine holes of golf with my dad today. Keep in mind, about a year and a half ago he broke his hip! Oh, and he is about to sell a plane he just built. And he’s flown it recently. My granddad is the stuff heroes are made of.

Not to leave my Gran out – she’s going to be 90 soon (either this August or next) and she still works out, her mind is sharp as a tack, and just all around cool.

Today, I was trying to think what I would be doing at 90. I would prefer not to be in a nursing home (my granddad still lives on his own, and my grandmother technically could be living on her own – but she lives with my parents), and I’d like to be playing the piano everyday – but not crappy. I wouldn’t play it if I sounded like crap. I’m thinking it would be a little hard to play the violin, because older adults’ hands shake really bad – at least, all the ones I know do.

Part of me also wants a crap load of grandkids – but that would require me having more than two kids myself, which I don’t see happening.

Okay, hmmm… I’m tired. I’m not writing a blog this late for awhile.

IDIOT! (said in the voice of Napoleon)

Sometimes I think I’m an idiot. I mean that in the kindest way possible, as I don’t want to offend myself – or others , like my parents, for example.

Have you ever been in a truly awkward situation and your only response is to briefly acknowledge said situation and then run away? Or better yet, don’t acknowledge the situation and still run away? I do this a lot more frequently than I thought, despite it going against my better judgment and sensibility.

Take for example an incident that occurred awhile back. I walk into a restaurant to grab lunch with a friend and see someone I know (who I know for a fact thinks I am, quote, a “bitch”). Sigh. I see her look at me with a death glare, and what do I proceed to do? Shrink to the size of a prune, look down, and not acknowledge her at all. Lovely.

Or the other day, I ran into someone I didn’t want to see, said hello quickly, and hopped in my car as quick as possible.

Or a year ago, I almost bumped into this old boss of mine who is a total jerk-off. Key word is “almost” in this sentence. I happened to see his car pull up, so I get into my car, hide, call Justin (who is still talking with the person throwing the party we’re at) and make him take me home.

So the question is why? Why on earth do I hate confrontation on every level? Why do I not have the guts to see someone who thinks poorly of me, (or I think poorly of them – which is only about three people) carry a semi-casual conversation and go about my day? Further, why do I then sit and over-analyze the whole incident?

Like, what would have happened if I told this guy off? Or if I had given this girl a big “EFFFF you” glance, or better yet, smiled, waved and walked away casually.

I would ask, WWJD while looking at my blue bracelet engraved with the slogan (how very 1995 of me) if Jesus saw someone He didn’t like – but I’m pretty sure The Man liked everyone. I mean, there were tons of people who didn’t like Him, and I’m sure he prayed for them, cared for them. And I do that with my “Top Three” haters – from afar, and preferably with my tennis shoes on.

Sidebar: Twelve more days until I get my eyebrows done! I’m so sick of people looking at me like, “WTF is going on with Jenni’s nasty looking eyebrows?” Yes, I know they look like crap people – but I’m growing them out so a professional can make them amazing. This lady is so apparently awesome at the art of the eyebrow, that I had to make this appointment almost four months ago! Everyone who is anyone in Austin goes to this lady. And since I define myself as “anyone,” I’m there! ;)

Happiness is Quite Fleeting

The week off from tasks and responsibilities has quickly come and gone, and to utilize a lame analogy – passed as quickly as a Texas Springtime. Monday I started a new job, which is freaking awesome. Many of my co-workers sit on exercise balls all day long, so I must go in search of one for the workplace, and I sense a hard work=hard partying atmosphere, therefore I should acclimate rapidly.

And to top the great day at work, I proceeded to get pulled over for speeding in Lakeway while driving to the country club to workout. It was my first time getting pulled over, and as I teared up while the cop checked my license and such (to clarify, I did not cry in front of the cop because that is stupid), Justin said I was bound to get my “cherry popped sometime,” and he’s probably right – I was about five years overdue for one.

Such bitterness, right? I suppose Justin could write multiple blog entries on his cop escapades, which are all quite ridiculous, and now he has a new one to add – wife gets clocked going 15 over the speed limit (mind you, going down a hill on a highway where the speed limit had dropped 5 mph) and got off with a warning. He proceeded to complain the rest of the way to the gym that I should have gotten one. MUHAHAHA. And the cop couldn’t have bestowed this warning on a more grateful citizen, as today I traveled well below the speed limit for the majority of my commute. I say majority, because let’s be honest, it’s quite impossible to go only 35 mph on Fifth Street.

I’ve just wrapped up day two of my “Week of Rest” from work, stress, and general strategic thinking and I’ve discovered two things:

*This is glorious; and,
*I’m already bored.

I’m so bored in fact, that I don’t really have anything to blog about, other than I’ve taken it upon myself to convert my entire closet to wooden hangers instead of wire and plastic. Not only is it pleasing to the eye, but it’s supposed to help your clothing somehow. Let me tell you, buying 16 packs of eight wooden hangers quickly takes up the majority of your trunk space.

Other than that, it’s been a pretty uneventful last few days. At some point, I’m going to start piano lessons with the next door neighbor (she’s a former concert pianist – incredibly amazing) and so I hope to get back into the groove of playing. Then I might get a few massages, take some yoga classes, lay out at the pool, and watch the six-hour version of Pride and Prejudice.

I’ll be ready to go back to work in no time!

Heart Racing, Head Throbbing, Water Pumping?

Let me preface by saying that I should never stay up past 11 p.m. on a weeknight. I just can’t handle the seemingly “late” night. And I swear I’m not 12. Some individuals just need more sleep than others, and I’m one of them. Additionally, I should never watch Pride & Prejudice back to back on HBO.

About 5 a.m. this morning, I awaken to a methodical beating sound. Maybe because I’m delusional at this hour, I think my heart is beating so loud that my head is throbbing. I take my pulse, and honestly, I can’t feel anything. I freak out a little more, and then realize that maybe this beating sound isn’t me. That’s probably after about 15 minutes of thinking I’m going to die alone. (Justin is in NYC). Haha.

Stumbling in my room, and Walter also a little out of it, we walk to the bathroom, where the pounding noise gets seemingly louder. At this point, I think that Ashley is in the middle bedroom sewing and beating her sewing machine with some kind of hammer or bat.

So we venture out to the other end of the house where the noise is definitely getting louder – but her door is shut and all the lights are out. And the noise is obviously coming from in-between the walls. At this point, I’ve concluded the following: I’m not going to die, my house is flooding through the walls, and there is a woodpecker floating in the flooded wall trying to peck his way to freedom/avoidance of death. Okay, I honestly thought we were having plumbing issues or the woodpecker got stuck.

I think we all know what I did next – I woke Ashley’s ass out of bed. Because, two girls trying to solve a plumbing problem or a trapped animal is much better than one. So, I wake up Ashley, who also went to bed at late watching the same movie and we both stumble upstairs to see if it is the hot water heater or something.

Putting our ears against the wall to determine if the sound is coming from the attic (instead of just opening the doors like wise individuals – I thought an animal might scurry our or something), we figure it has to be the hot water heater. I grab the attic keys, and discover it is – but have no idea how to turn the bloody thing off. So I just turn it to low and go back downstairs to figure out my game plan.

1. Call warranty plumber. Unfortunately, I can’t find the number, our Internet is down, and my computer broke. Yes – all this morning.
2. Text message Kim (work office manager) to figure out why the crap my computer isn’t working.
3. Call my dad. I think we all knew the parental phone call was coming. He said we may have lost water pressure and to call the city.
4. Call Kim. She gives me the number for the computer help desk at work.
5. Call the Help Desk and leave a message.
6. Call Justin and chew him out for not being here when I needed him. Unfortunately, I woke him up and he doesn’t remember much of the conversation, other than the fact I was chewing him out for no good reason. Which is true. Haha.
7. Call the city. They don’t even ask for my address (retards) and say that it’s my problem and not theirs. Of course, in the middle of that call the noise stops.
8. Call my boss to let him know I am coming in late. Unfortunately, the voicemail cuts me off and I have to call him back saying “The point is, I’m not coming in this morning so I can get this stuff sorted out.” He didn’t get the first message. Haha.
9. Call the plumber. I finally got the stupid phone number for the warranty plumber and they didn’t open until 8:30.

So by this point, the knocking as stopped, so we wait about thirty minutes and try and go back to bed. Unfortunately, every time I almost fall asleep, I keep thinking I hear the noise (which I wasn’t) and eventually just give up.

Long story, well, long story – the plumber won’t come because the noise stopped, my computer is fixed (I need to remember to reboot before calling people so I don’t look like an ass) and I’m at work, hoping my house isn’t flooding. Weeee!

Weloome to my blog!

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to attend the wedding of a couple I had never met before, and will most likely never see again. I sort of felt like a wedding crasher, but more for the food and alcohol and less about the hooking up (because, I’m married and such).

So about 4 p.m. Ashley and I set out on a drive to the lovely Brenham, Texas, by way of Austin. I’ve taken this drive many times before – it’s a fairly quick route to get to the North side of Houston – but this was the first time I started noticing a bunch of “oddities” during the road trip.

Let me start by saying, I love Texas so much. I could never live anywhere else for a long period of time because it’s home. The people, the land, the history – I just get a wonderful smile on my face sticking my nose against the window during two hour drives through the country.

And it is during those “nose against the window” moments that you find the most ridiculous items to blog about. Seriously, I grabbed a piece of paper and started writing items down, especially in the small town of Giddings, Texas. (which I don’t have with me… so I’m still going from memory) When Justin and I went to the Woodlands for a DMB concert a few years back, we stopped in this town at the local DQ. But, it wasn’t just any DQ, it is a “DQ Restaurant.” Side note: we also received our food in record DQ time – literally Justin was paying and our food was already ready. Nice.

On this particular trip, here are some other random places that would only make sense in Small Town, Texas:

*Weloome to Giddings – You know it’s a bad sign when you enter a town and a hotel sign says,“Weloome to Giddings.” You’re already off to a bad start. Freaking spell “Welcome” right, people.
*Sands Hotel – A few signs along TX-21 and Hwy. 290 (think old school signs) advertised this particular hotel. Most of the time, I’m used to inns/motels advertising free HBO or something. This hotel apparently features “free cable w/ remote.” Because, you know, cable TV just isn’t good enough unless you have a remote to go with it.
*Slender Lady, Weight Loss and Fitness Center – immediately under the sign, “Tan 10 minutes.” Hey, get yourself in awesome shape, and then kill yourself with skin cancer. Nice.

Then immediately out of town, there was also a “Hydrocarbon Corporation.” I don’t know what hydrocarbon is for, but what on earth is it doing in this town, where the nicest “restaurant” is DQ?!

By the time we got to Brenham, home of Blue Bell Ice Cream (and passed through the town of Gay Hill – real smart name in redneck land), the wedding was about five minutes from starting. It was at a place called the Antique Rose Emporium and it was gorgeous. Seriously, if you are wanting a beautiful, small-town Texas wedding, this is the place.

The Middle School Diary

The other day I was cleaning out a closet (and its contents are still strewn across the study floor – I lost interest), and discovered my half-assed attempt at writing in a diary, circa 1994-1995.

It had a lock on it (which doesn’t work anymore), and apparently was from Hallmark – because I demand only the highest quality diary-writing material. Right.

I immediately open it up (however, I still remembered what the combination for the lock is), and on the back page, is a will I wrote for myself. I haven’t written a will since, so I guess if I die, the following things need to be addressed:

1. “All my belongings go to my friends and family” (because not specifying what things need to go to who is a smart solution – people can work stuff out – eh?)
2. “Tell Leti I’m sorry for our stupid fight” (To clarify, me and this girl named Leti were BFFs in fourth and fifth grade, and for whatever reason – probably stupidity and hormones – we had a falling out. In the will, I also say to give her back this keychain she gave me that said “purrfect friends” with some cats on it. How very 1994.)
3. “Tell (omitted) I love him and I’m sorry I never told him” (Only Justin knows who I put down, because it is incredibly embarrassing and something you only share with your husband because it’s so ridiculous.)

And that was it. Now, a friend of mine said how morbid it is for a 13-year-old to write a “living will and testament” in her diary, and under normal circumstances, I completely agree. However, the previous year I had this rare blood disorder that made me a hemophiliac for about six months (originally, they thought I had leukemia) and I very well could have died. So, the idea of a will makes more sense at that age, but its content is still ludicrous!

Side bar – Becki – you apparently stole my diary at one point in eighth grade and wrote an entry that was typical Becki witty. So, you probably know who “omitted” is… maybe ;)

BSC!

A blog that I read quite religiously is Pop Candy on the USAToday.com Web site. Whitney Matheson pretty much likes a lot of the stuff I do (her Lost postings, for example, are a must-read if you watch the show) and one of today’s posts proves it!

“Back when I was shorter and wore enormous glasses, I was hopelessly
addicted to The Baby-Sitters Club. In fact, I probably read Ann M. Martin's
series of books way longer than I should have, but, let me tell you, these
things were impossible to put down! (Favorite character? It's a tie between
Claudia and Mary Anne.)”

Mine was Stacey, hands down. She was hip, cool, from NYC. LOVED HER. My grandfather had diabetes, and so it was great to get a girl POV on the subject. Helped me to better understand the blood tests I would see Gramps do.

So, she links to a site from Scholastic – and it has a pop quiz to determine which babysitter you would be. So I did it. And crap, I’m freaking Kristy. I HATED HER. She was a turd. Probably my least favorite character. Unbelievable. Apparently it’s because “I always speak my mind and sometimes it gets me into trouble.”

But it gets even better. There is a blogger out there who is actually re-reading all of the books. Now I’m super hacked that I gave away a bunch of my BSC books – because I want to re-read all of them.

Anyways, she’s reading one of my favorite books right now – Stacey’s Ex-Best Friend, a.k.a. #51. I don’t think I ever told anyone I wanted to name my future child Anastasia because of the BSC, did I? Now, I’d maybe name my cat that. If I had/wanted/wasn’t allergic to cats.

Sidebar: Me and my BFF, Brandi, went to Town East Mall one Saturday in sixth grade to meet Ann Martin (author of the BSC series) as part of her mall tour. We gave her the biggest stack of book ideas EVER. Haha. I can’t believe we thought she’d read them!

Two weeks...

Notice.

I've accepted another opportunity with an PR agency here in town that provides a significant growth opportunity for my career.

The whole thing is very bittersweet, and it is almost like a mix between breaking up with a boyfriend and graduating college. You know you have to, but yet you'll always have good feelings towards that individual/organization.

So I'm taking a week off around this time, so if anyone wants to plan a trip to Austin, now is a good time to do that :)

But seriously, the whole thing went down very painlessly, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone I work with here. That's the toughest part about leaving.

Soooooo... that's the big news.

stay tuned...

Big changes are coming!

But before I tell you and in the meantime, someone actually took the time to develop a graph of change. I wish I came up with that -- this dude probably made money stating the obvious.

Three Degrees of Separation...

...to Paris Hilton. High-larious. In eighth grade, Justin's cousin was "The Man" -- I think he dated every hot girl that year (so obviously, I wasn't one of them). Ah, the memories.

Tack on another year…

When Justin and I got engaged, we started talking about when we would ideally like to have children and settled on what’s known as the “Three-to-Five-Year Plan.” As you know, we recently celebrated our third anniversary and are now in this midst of this “plan” we devised.

Two news stories during the past twenty-four hours make me want to consider a “Thirty-five-Year Plan” instead. Or home schooling my children, which up until this morning I would never have considered. Let me explain…

Last night, after a particularly late evening at the office, I come home around 8:45 and watch the last few minutes of South Park. I hope my children would never be vulgar, but at times, I hope they are that sharp about what’s going on in the world – Cartman doesn’t count.

Justin then asks what’s on the movie channels, and so I flip around and end up on HBO Family, where they are showing “Middle School Confessions.”

Now, my mind immediately goes back to middle school and how horrible it was. Everyone is confused, hormones are wild, and you knew of about 12-15 kids in your grade that were total whores. I’m thinking to myself nothing has really changed, because I was in middle school only 12-13 years ago.

So this show starts interviewing a bunch of girls about how normal it is to give head at the age of 11 and 12. And I’m shocked. Justin and I are looking at each other like, we are never having kids, ever. I mean, these kids are talking about it in front of their parents! And these girls are saying how empowering it is, because they are in control and they wouldn’t even have to know the person and could just walk away. Seriously, my jaw was on the floor. Crazy. Which, by the way, if you go to the link I provided above, the girl that said that is the one with the braces.

Then this morning, I read an article on CNN about a group of fifth graders in Louisiana who had sex in front of their class for the fifteen minutes their teacher was out of the room. I mean, the worst thing that happened to me in fifth grade was the teacher left to use the restroom and some kid put a roach in my seat and I sat on it. I’m still bitter about that. These kids eventually were arrested because they were doing this in front of other students.

I mean, by the time my daughter is eight, will I have to start her on birth control? Will I have to worry about pregnancy by the time she’s 11? By the time she’s 18, will she be mixing my ashes with cocaine because she’s led me to an early grave? What is this world coming to?

Are parents not teaching their children morals, safe sex practices, or talking to them at all? Granted, 70 percent of the blame lies with the children, because a parent can teach two of their children the exact same principles with different results. But at the same time, are parents too consumed with work, their own activities, to sit down with their children and tell them how stupid they are behaving?

In my most thoughtful moment, I think the end of the world is nearing with stories like this, but then I was watching “The History of Sex” on the History Channel (it was interesting and I was bored) and learned about how people from the Middle Ages addressed sex. The Catholic Church at the time considered prostitution a necessary evil; at the same time, if you had sex and the woman was on top, you could be hanged. Then, there are these old prayer books from this time period with pictures of people getting it on in the margins.

So I suppose this isn’t abnormal behavior necessarily, but is happening way too early in a child’s life. Children at the age of 11 or 12 should not be expressing themselves sexually, and most likely are not engaging in safe sex. Think about it – you don’t even learn about STDs until ninth grade in the state of Texas, and most of the time, the teacher blows through that subject in about three days, and the topics never make a lasting impression.

All this to say, I would wait a long time to have children, because the idea of raising a hellion that sexes it up on the weekends, in-between classes and in his/her parent’s bed mortifies me, but the longer I wait, the more likely it is I’ll be worrying about this stuff during their terrible twos.

Regardless, don’t be expecting any birth announcements from me in the next year.

How to get high without smoking

Sigh, I guess I knew at some point, going to a Dave Matthews Band concert would lead to drug use.

Granted, I’m proud to say that I have yet to willingly participate in drug use at any point in my life, nor have I ever smoked a cigarette. Call me a prude, a goodie-goodie, or what have you, but I don’t feel the need to ever alter the state of my mind. I like my mind and the way I think just fine.

That said, I got totally high on Saturday in Vegas. So here are the three ways to get high without trying/wanting to:

Step One: Attend either a Phish or Dave Matthews Band concert. Either will ensure you receive enough second-hand smoke to be high as a kite.

Step Two: Unknowingly get seats where there are no concert attendants/cops monitoring the crowd for pot use.

Step Three: Make sure the seats are as high up as possible, as smoke rises.

Justin and I like DMB – that doesn’t mean we have to smoke it to enjoy his music. Unfortunately, a lot of tools do, which makes me sad. And honestly, the only thing I enjoyed more during the concert being high wasn’t even the music – it was the cool light affects on the stage. And Lord, I scarfed down some serious food afterwards. How stereotypical.

I Heart Co-Workers

I seriously work with the best group of people --

Back in February, I had accidently offered to play Ave Maria at my great-aunt's funeral. Two problems:

1. I had never played Ave Maria on the piano or violin before.

2. I had not played in public on the piano or violin since May of 2000. And to show off my mad math skills, that's almost seven years.

Amazing how time flies. So, me and my worry-wart self made my co-workers suffer through Ave Maria. Our GM/head honcho had brought wine, beer, cheese and crackers for the little shindig, which was quite sweet.

I don't really remember much from the event, or playing, but apparently I made someone tear up. Because it was good or because it was horrible remains unseen.

South by South suX!!

Oh yeah, I said it. And I mean it.

First off, let me say how much I luv my STFL and I’m glad she’s playing SXSW this week. However, for the most part, I hate this festival, and here are a few reasons why:

Price Gouging: I loathe the fact that the majority of Austinites are priced out of SXSW. The average wristband sells for the cost of 15 CDs. People that are making a trip out of this festival consider it a reasonable cost as part of their “vacation” (as I see my $400 spree to see DMB for two nights in Vegas… completely worth it in my eyes), so I understand, kinda. But for the average Austin citizen, it’s a lot to pay to see people in your own town plus put up with the upheaval. I can’t even get into shows without wristbands. DUMB.

Traffic: You tools coming to SXSW ruin my ability to get home every night from work. Jerks. They shut down all the necessary roads downtown, making the other roads even more congested. Suck!!! I want to get home at a decent hour.

Posers: This is a t-shirt and jeans city. Justin and I went and had dinner at Eddie V’s the other night for our anniversary, a pretty upscale restaurant, and there were a lot of people wearing jeans. But the infiltration of total posers means stupid girls dressing like sluts and guys trying to dress, well odd. Oh, and then all the people proudly displaying their badges like they are in some kind of cool crowd. Get over yourselves, posers.

There are other reasons, mainly me being grumpy and about to ride the crimson wave, but I’m telling you, I’m not the only one that feels this way. The music is so loud, that I am in my cube on the 25th floor, and I hear music. How am I supposed to get my work done?!

After thinking about that for a bit, why am I complaining about not getting work done? Sigh, I just want my downtown back, where the only weirdo I see is Leslie, the cross-dressing homeless man with Bluetooth technology. I don’t even have Bluetooth technology. Oh, and he also has his own line of “Dress Leslie’ magnets on sale at BookPeople. I need to check that out.

Hahahahahahaha

That's awesome.

Three Years Ago Today...

... I said "I do" to this man:

He's just as cute as ever! Nice man boobs in this picture! Haha.

Your life is subject to interpretation.

Isn’t it funny how you see your life in one way, and others see it a completely other way?

Take for example in sixth grade. This girl was being a real butt to me. Turns out, I was a real butt to her in fourth grade and it was retaliation. Who knew?

It’s interesting how what we remember about ourselves and others shapes who we become, and how others see me (sometimes the same situation in a completely different/wrong light) shape how they think of me.

During Lent, I think about these things, because I am curious to know what God thinks of me -- 'cause He's the most important and all. Is He looking through the lens of others, or through the lens of my intentions? I’m guessing it’s a mix of both – haha, God isn’t near- or far-sighted, He’s both! What an opthamologist bill he must have! (Whoa, way corny. My apologies)

So, random lesson for the day: before you do something, think of how God and others see you, and not just yourself. It’s a way to embody the Catholic-Guilt-Ridden approach to life;)

Sincerely,
Guilt-Ridden Girl

Ashes versus Pamphlets

I think it’s a valid question, don’t you? I don’t normally talk about religion – but I do on certain occasions, and this is one of them.

Let me start back at the beginning.

Wednesday, Feb. 23, 11:00 a.m.
Jenni attends an Ash Wednesday service at the Cathedral downtown. Fun times had by all, and I particularly enjoyed the Statesman’s pictures of the occasion. Usually, the priest skimps on the ashes, but I got a good glob on my head that took some serious scrubbing to get off that evening.

11:30 a.m.
I went and got sushi at my favorite downtown sushi place – Silhouette. It’s cheap, really. Or at least, cheaper than the other places downtown. Unfortunately, after almost two hours, I still didn’t have my sushi. Ridiculous, right? But I was in a slightly forgiving moving, given that I had ashes all on my head, so I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I was with a group of 12 people. And there was only one sushi roller, and they had other customers.

1:32 p.m.
So every month, or near a religious occasion, some evangelical Christians stand at the corner of Sixth and Congress to berate those walking by. Sometimes they have large signs, other times a huge horn player, and generally, five to six individuals trying to hand out pamphlets to unsuspecting individuals that proudly proclaim how everyone is going to Hell if you don’t believe EXACTLY what they do.

Honestly, I thought with the huge blob of ash on my head, I wouldn’t be a target that day. I mean, hello, my God is their God, I believe Jesus died for my sins, etc.

But this rude individual decided to berate my ashes in front of everyone at Sixth and Congress. I mean come on – if you are already trash-talking Christians, what makes you think that someone who isn’t a believer is going to listen to you?

Specifically he said, among other things, “Those ashes won’t save you, but this will,” as he tries to hand me a paper detailing all the ways me and my dog are going to Hell.

Jerks. Of course, you can’t get into a conversation with them, because it will just make them even more rude and cruel.

So- ashes or pamphlets? Honestly, I’d like to burn some of those BS pamphlets and smear those ashes on their foreheads. Just a thought.

But seriously, I know that the ashes aren’t going to save me. But I also know that’s not the point of them. Obviously, these guys have no idea what they mean. I’m just glad they think they know what they believe.

Uncle Jesse and Valentine's Day

Rarely do I blog about work conversations, but I simply couldn’t pass this up… my supervisor, Eric and I were discussing a Valentine’s Day card I got him (Grey’s Anatomy themed – Dr. Shepherd on the front, “Keep the McDream Alive” inside the card) and he didn’t get the joke. Sigh. Totally ruined the funny.

So we get on topic about ER and how he used to watch it when George Clooney was on there. So I say, “I know, and now none of the original cast is there, and Uncle Jesse is on it. How bizarre.”

And Eric goes, “FROM DUKES OF HAZZARD?!”



Then I had to say no. So embarrassing to admit I watched that chop on television and thought he was cute at age 8. Sigh.

Which Dallas Girl Am I?

Got this from a fellow co-worker, and knowing that many a Dallas-ite frequent the blog, I thought this would be worth sharing. *Sigh, I can't believe the Mesquite one.

Mattel recently announced the release of limited-edition Barbie Dolls for the Dallas market:

" Highland Park Barbie"
This princess Barbie is sold only at Northpark. She comes with an
assortment of Kate Spade Handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired foreign dog named Honey
and a McMansion on Beverly Drive. Available with or without tummy tuck and face
lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with the augmented version.


" Plano Barbie"
The modern day homemaker Barbie is available with Ford Windstar Minivan
and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation.
Traffic jamming cell phone sold separately.


" Oak Cliff Barbie"
This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a Ray Lewis knife,a
Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a Meth Lab Kit. This model is only
available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable
bills) unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you are talking about.


" Frisco Barbie"
This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2.
Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership. Also
available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to
afford any of them.


" Mesquite Barbie"
This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too
small, a NASCAR t-shirt and tweety bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Bud
light and a Hank Williams Jr. CD set. She can spit over 5 feet and kick mullet-haired Ken's
butt when she is drunk. Purchase her pickup truck separately and get a confederate flag
bumper sticker absolutely free.


" Grand Prairie Barbie"
This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own
high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased beer-gutted Ken out of Southside
Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and a
see-through halter-top. Also available with a mobile home.


" Lower Greenville Barbie"
This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long straight brown hair,
arch-less feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her
Willow . She does not want or need a Ken doll, but if you purchase two Point Breeze Barbies
and the optional Subaru wagon, you get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free.


" East Dallas Barbie"
This Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories
include a GED and bus pass. Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available, but are now very
difficult to find since the addition of the infant.



" Oak Lawn Barbie/Ken"
This versatile doll can be easily converted from Barbie to Ken by simply
adding or subtracting the multiple snap-on parts.

Thoughts on a Friday Night

This evening – sitting in traffic – I started thinking about things. Maybe it was the song on the radio (Five for Fighting, 100 years), but I had just gotten off the phone with my mom. My great aunt is pretty sick and broke her hip/fractured her femur earlier in the week. Now they think she might have a tumor in her lung, which is never good, especially at the age of 84.

But something hit me talking with her that made me happy. My parents are trying to get my great uncle home before the ice storm hits Dallas, and he refuses to leave the hospital – he doesn’t want to leave her alone. She’s in ICU, so he doesn’t even get to see her all the time, but he doesn’t care. He won’t leave.

I don’t know how long they’ve been married – probably close to 60 years, maybe more – but I started thinking about Justin and I at that age. We’ll probably still snippy at each other, but in a cute way. But more importantly, I hope we’re just like that – never leaving each other’s side, ever. Maybe that’s what happens when you are married to your best friend. Just a thought.

Sigh. We’ll probably still be losers too – he’s watching the Houston/Denver game while navigating the ESPN Web site, and I’m writing this blog. When we’re 84, we’ll probably still be doing the same thing, just slightly altered. I’ll be thinking thoughts for a blog that will automatically be posted on someone’s brain, and he’ll be watching the basketball game in some virtual console that makes it look like he has courtside seats.

And so now you know what happens when I think too hard…

I'm in Love

Come June 2007, I'm going to be married to this sweet thing! (And by default, sucked into the Cingular world... sigh)

http://www.apple.com/iphone/

Apple is consistently an innovator -- and this device proves it. Take that Microsoft! This is the year the B's go Apple/MAC!

No work when birds die?

Okay, I lie -- I'm working from home today, but the lucky fools that don't have access to their networks get to stay home and do nothing because a bunch of birds died.

Odd. See latest AP story: http://news.bostonherald.com/national/view.bg?articleid=175992

You know -- You Suck at Speaking

Okay, maybe I'm taking this a little far, but I couldn't even finish this article because one phrase kept being said over and over again by the interviewee.

So here's media training 101, kids -- figure out what your speech "ticks" are -- such as, "yeah," "um," "gosh," etc., and then don't use them. Please. For the sake of anyone listening to you. Maybe that will actually require you to think before you speak, and you'll kill two birds with one stone.

On a side note, I also think whoever transcribed this is being a real jerk. Most writers would have just left out the "you know" part.

Second side note -- I think Donald Trump and Rosie O'Donnell are both being real babies. Whoever is wrong/right doesn't matter -- please, just grow up and shut up. The higher moral ground would be to not say anything at all.

Enjoy!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16469812/

New Year, New Me?

Inevitably, every January 1, myself – along with approximately 250 million Americans – have this stupid notion that resolutions are key to a successful and prosperous coming year, along with black eyed peas (yuck). And by April 24 – inevitably again – 95 percent of Americans come to the conclusion that resolutions totally suck.

So why do we play this game with ourselves? Do we enjoy setting up inevitable failure, cherish the promise of shattered goals, cling to the off-chance that we will become that five percent of Americans who lose weight or whatever that thing is we are “resolving”(as evident by the “results not typical” smaller-than-your-nose-hair typeset below their picture on the 2 a.m. infomercials)?

Really, the only time I am able to keep any type of promise to myself is during Lent, when – as a Catholic – the fear of God’s wrath instills some type of impenetrable force field around your promise to workout more, stop eating candy/fattening foods, and read the bible nightly. Because, of course, Jesus’ love for me and my BMI go hand in hand… right?

The point is, why do we kid ourselves with seemingly unattainable promises of a better life?

Also, why have I used the term inevitable or a similar function of the word so many times in this posting? Probably lack of a decent vocabulary…

I don’t really know why we make goals we can’t keep, so my resolution this year is no resolutions at all. Sure, I still want to lose weight, and yes, I’d love to focus more on my spiritual enlightenment, but I made those promises to myself back in September, not January 1.

Maybe because I didn’t want to be like everyone else, but more because I wanted to set my own goals on my own time, my own way – not on some day set in stone by Hallmark, 24 Hour Fitness, or Nutrisystem Nourish. (Which, by the way, those commercials do make that food look yummy… but I decided to make my own food myself – oh, and did you notice those commercials started running right around the holiday season? Coincidence – of course not! Commercialism is in every aspect of our lives, integrated to a ridiculous degree – but that is for a different blog posting)

So here is my ultimatum to you – stop defining your life by a date, by one or two unrealistic goals that will only cause you a greater setback when you don’t reach them. Take baby steps, meditate or pray on how you can better improve your life – but make it realistic and obtainable and not according to a calendar, because when you do reach a goal, it’s the best feeling in the world (results not typical).

BTW, I didn’t have any black eyed peas today.

Merry Christmas!

So my first Christmas hosting went off without a hitch, like I thought. I truly owe its success to some wonderful cooks (okay and I cook too!), last-minute shopping options, and family.

Highlights include a two-year old running scared to the first grandmother (never met her before either!) in sight after getting a Christmas gift, Justin’s homemade present for his mom, a new scarf, Sponge Bob Square Pants, (my personal favorite – stress) and Walter enjoying his new ball bone.

I hope you had as much fun as I did this holiday season, and I look forward to 2007 – who knows what’s in store?! Okay, definitely not that, but definitely this in Las Vegas. Sweet.

Merry Christmas!

Rubik's Cube

I saw a Rubik's cube last night standing in line at Walgreens...

And today in my cube, something is completely rancid, and I can't figure out what it is... maybe it is in the cube next to me? I don't know? Make it stop? AHH?

I'm ready for the holidays :)

Christmas Preparations

Christmas 2006 will be know to the JB clan as one of two things – a) The year Jenni put on the best Christmas family gathering ever, or b) The year Jenni screwed it up.

It’s a lot to have on your shoulders, honestly. Part of it is because I’m so anal – everything must be so unachievably perfect, or I risk crying really hard.

So preparations for a Sunday the 24th D-Day (C-Day?) began Saturday. I started by getting out the trusty Dyson from the Harry Potter closet (if you’ve been to the house, you’ll know what I’m talking about), and attaching multiple vacuum attachments to it in one hand. The other hand held Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Then I had my trusty cleaners in my bathroom carrying tote in the third hand. I get a little beasty when cleaning, as Justin can attest… I take on supernatural powers too.

So Saturday and Sunday I cleaned like I have never cleaned before – every nook was spotless, every corner was free and clear of dust and cobwebs. I probably spent a grand total of 12 hours cleaning, and I still have half of the kitchen, the master bedroom and bathroom, and all of Justin’s upstairs to go.

So, here’s to wishing I didn’t use all of my supernatural powers this weekend, because it’s going to be a long week. At least all of my Christmas shopping is done.

Thinking...

So, a former co-worker of mine that I worked with on a bunch of projects is the same woman whose husband was found on the mountain in Oregon.

I found out this morning on the radio that they IDed her husband, and I kinda just crawled into bed with Justin and gave him a hug. Unfortunately, he was asleep and doesn't remember -- not the point though.

Today, just give those you love an extra hug, tell them how much you appreciate them in your life. Especially this time of the year.

So, much love everyone... have a happy holiday and cherish the ones you are with.

It’s Christmas – Let’s Get Sloshed!

So I’m pretty sure when Christ was born, the Lord wasn’t downing a ridiculous amount of wine to celebrate his son’s birth. Just a guess, and God – feel free to comment, as long as you are a Blogger Beta member. If not, feel free to reach me directly on my e-mail.

Since Christ’s birth however, man has turned Christmas time into more of a party-type atmosphere. Specifically, during the work “Christmas Party” – better known as the “Holiday Party” to avoid being sued for infringing on non-Christians beliefs, or lack thereof. But I digress.

The “Holiday” party for your work typically consists of general mingling with those you already spend 40+ hours with on a weekly basis. Do we really want to spend that much time with work-folk? According to a recent study conducted by myself and based on no statistics or discussion with others, we’re pretty indifferent.

The tipping point to those attending such a party is this – free booze. My work “Holiday” party had a substantial amount – full bar to be exact – for more than two hours. It’s like Wedding Crashers or something, except you go for the booze alone and not random hook-ups.

However, what is the motivation for individuals to attend “Holiday” parties when no free booze is offered? Take for example my husband’s work. Apparently, his work party is on a Thursday from 4-6 p.m. – serving only appetizers. We aren’t going either. Now, granted, my husband doesn’t drink and I have to actually work that day, but the point is, I’d at least try and leave work early if free booze was involved and my husband was actually going (he is in a golf tournament that day). But citing that same study from the above paragraph, who wants to hang around people you already have daily/hourly contact with if there is no incentive?

Just a thought, and my study is free to interpretation. So feel free to interpret in the comment section. You too, God. I know you want to.

Am I the Last Person...

TO HEAR ABOUT THIS?!

http://www.cnn.com/2006/TRAVEL/12/06/plane.passing.gas.ap/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

(Hint: Look at the web link closely)

Bread Bowls=Cold Weather

You might be wondering how I came up with this amazing equation, but it requires a few paragraphs of narrative that only I could write up :)

Let me start with, I was a total Biotch today. I don't know why, I just felt like being a giant butt today.

I guess it starts with the fact that the wind was howling all night long, and I lost sleep. Happy Jenni = min. 8 hours of sleep. Jenni did not meet this equation.

I cut a few people off more than I normally do in the morning commute -- but, I really needed to be at work, so I blame work :)

Then, I get a message on my YouTube page I had set up for a work project. I scurry over to YouTube only to discuss some moron con artist is pulling that "My grandmother put away $5.8 million in a bank in South Africa and now the government won't let the family get to the money, so if you give them your bank information, they'll pay you back." Oh, and the best part, "God Bless."

I think that put me over the edge, truly. So I wrote back to the e-mail address... "Dear Idiot. This scam is at least 3 or 4 years old -- find something new to use. Further, may God bless you, because he's not going to look kindly on someone trying to rip people off."

Unfortunately, it bounced back, and I was even more miffed.

Then, because it is quite chilly in the ATX today, I decided to go to my favorite place, Panera Bread for a bread bowl soup to take home.

They ran out of bread bowls five minutes before I got there. Jerks.

So I tell them I specifically came here for the bread bowl. And then I was like, you just lost my business for not having a bread bowl. The guy thought I was crazy. Honestly, I probably am.

So I go to McAllisters -- and they are out of bread bowls too!!!! WTF?!!!!! Unbelievable. At this point though, it's cutting into my Ugly Betty hour, and I have no choice but to order the greatest Spud of my life. So everything worked out.

But never get a craving for bread bowls on cold days, you'll be left sad. Like me. :'(

My Top 10

I haven’t updated in awhile, and while I keep wanting to with all the glorious tidbits of life I experienced during the last week, I just haven’t. Ay.

Anyways, to make the brain dump easier on myself – and you, oh loyal reader(s) – I have compiled a list of my top 10 Blogger-ish Moments. The first five kinda suck, because I can’t think of that many things that happened.

10. I love having four days off from work; however, the “Case of the Mondays” are particularly heinous afterwards.
9. Justin’s grandmother had cancer treatments on Thanksgiving Day. Very sad. BUT, she is still so beautiful – and her wig makes her look at least 10 years younger! I just think that is fabulous.
8. Black Friday was surprisingly easy going at Last Call in Austin. I mainly wanted to beat people up because they had poor fashion sense, not a poor attitude.
7. Potheads are sooo not cool. Not as much a blogger moment, as fact. Don’t do drugs, become a underpaid professional instead – it has the same downer effect.
6. Seeing a bunch of old people get off a bus in front of my parent’s house to pick pecans. HAHAHA.
5. Taking a 5-mile walk while the old people are picking pecans, only to come back and see my dad taking a picture of the old people in front of said bus and parent’s house. I was too tired to do another 5 miles though, so I just laughed really hard.
4. Going with Ashley to Fredericksburg on Saturday for a day of shopping. Nothing really that blog-tastic, other than the fact I blew an unbelievable amount of money of stuff that quite easily qualifies as junk. Makes for good Christmas gifts, I suppose. Just don’t ask me where I got your gift. Gift to myself – some Uggs… but I got those at Nordstrom after shopping in Fredericksburg.
3. Walter getting loose in the backyard and us freaking out that he ran away, only to find out he had somehow managed to prop up the fence, craw over to the neighbors, and get stuck over there. What a nut.
2. Justin breaking a pitcher filled with Crystal Light all over the kitchen floor. That’s not the funny part. The funny part was him trying to figure out how to use a mop – it was his first time mopping. Hil-ar-e-mus!
1. Being asked to vacuum my parents house and clean the bathroom (like, the toilet, the tub, everything) in return for staying there. Needless to say, we won’t be staying there again any time soon. Silly ‘rents!

America’s Finest News Source, at a Newsstand Near You

I was frolicking over to my second office at Sixth and Congress (no, not the Bank of America building where I typically reside – but that glorious beacon of light that provides my morning wallet gouging), when I look over to see the front pages of such quality newspapers as the Houston Chronicle, Austin American-Statesman, Dallas Morning News, Austin Chronicle, El Mundo, and um, The Onion.

That’s right kids, The Onion now has a print edition for each of your cities, and I suppose, for a limited time only, the paper is free. Glorious! Now I can find out that Chris Thaney of Hapeville, Ga., is starting his own car company after getting laid off from Ford -- and he expects to succeed. Or better yet, the real reasons why Brit and Fed-Ex are getting divorce.

PLUS, because I work for “The Man,” no one has to know that I’m visiting non-news source Web sites. If only PerezHilton would do the same. He would make a fortune.

The CLUB LIVES!

In a Dodge Neon.

So I was parking my car in the parking garage this morning, and I look over at the car I parked next to only to see something attached to the steering wheel.

Upon closer examination, I discovered was an off-brand "Club" -- you know, those ugly red things that people used to "protect" their cars in the mid-90s?

Apparently, this individual thought his 2001 Neon is some sort of prize possession and had to "Club" it -- not knowing that the Club is like, the easiest hacked anti-theft device on the planet.

If a thief wants to break into your car, he will. That's why you have insurance.

And Arnold, if this is your car, I'm going to laugh so hard, and make fun of you forever. :)

Sigh.

Happy birthday, Serna -- I don't think you read this blog, but I just have to share this picture with people, even if it means my own embarrassment.

This is sick.

I'm disgusted. http://www.dailybruin.com/news/articles.asp?id=38960
For those wanting to see the video: http://youtube.com/watch?v=5g7zlJx9u2E (I'm not going to watch it... reading the news story is definitely enough.)

I’m related to a Desperate Housewife!

So I suppose I need to clarify this one, but it’s pretty funny. In middle school, myself (along with others who read this blog), went to school with a Josh Henderson. He was a bit of a player in the day, and I’m going to say, rightfully so – he was hot. He had a new girlfriend every week, which wasn’t entirely surprising back in the middle school era, but he had to move at the end of the year, breaking the hearts of a handful of girls.

Flash forward to 2001ish. Justin gets a call from his mom that his cousin (I think like 2nd or 3rd) is on this WB Making the Band-type show called Popstars that was, honestly, horrible. Turns out it’s Josh Henderson. So he’s on that show, and at Thanksgiving, another relative says he’s dating the younger, not-well-known sister of Jessica Simpson – Ashlee Simpson.

Anyways, they break up (obviously), and we’re told that he is trying to “make it” in Hollywood, and was in a Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen movie… not exactly big time, but whateva.

So I haven’t been keeping up with Desperate Housewives this season (I’ve watched one or two episodes) – and the hot new love interest for Julie on the show is Edie’s nephew… played by Josh Henderson! HAHAHA. So funny. He even has an IMDB page! Click: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1259068/ Apparently he’s been in a few movies too… Step Up as one of them. That’s so hilarious.

So in theory, I’m sorta related to him by marriage. I’ll really start cracking up if I read about him on PerezHilton or something.

Why Running in Circles is More Productive Than Voting

Back in 12th grade, specifically government class with Mrs. Anderson, I was Ms. Utopia Voterwoman – 18, and anxiously holding my voter registration card for the first opportunity to vote.

Then I met a Justin B. Justin was also of Utopian mindset until our sophomore year of college, when InfoWars and 9-11 tainted his view of politics. Now of the conspiracy mindset, Justin tries to inflict his anti-voting venom on me at any given moment.

And I’ll admit, up until about 4 p.m. today, the venom had a poisonous affect on me. That and the fact that researching politicians all day does not help their pleas that corruption, money, manipulation, and lies only affect a smaller portion of “their kind.” The fact of the matter is, even the most honest politician or his minions have one of those traits, no matter how “Christian” or “Honorable” they may be.

But seeing my fellow co-workers get into the “voting” spirit got me excited about my civic duty. And I realized, as much as I’m disgusted with politics today, my previous stance of “uninformed voters are much more dangerous than non-voters” made me feel even more apathetic. I became determined to make a change.

So I did some quick research, printed out some names, highlighted some topics, and left work early to vote. Instantly, I became an informed, or delusional, voter – some would argue both are one in the same.

I pull up to the Episcopal Church that is my voting station, and see the line reaches to the driveway. Not to fear, glorious technology is in place to make this civic duty a quick and painless process.

An hour later, I’m still in the driveway.

I finally get to the front of the line, show my driver’s license to the kind, but slow (as in the main reason why the line was going slow) man so he could confirm my registration in the precinct and be on my merry way.

My name, however, was nowhere to be seen on the binder.

“Sir, this must be incorrect. I re-registered to vote in the precinct when I changed the address on my driver’s license.”

The “voting judge, ” or whatever her title was, informs me that several people have come into only to find out that checking the box at DPS DID NOT WORK.

SONS OF BITCHES! Normally I do not speak such harsh terms regarding my former employer, but my old boss/friend/mentor is getting an irate call from me tomorrow.

At this point, I may have started to tear up, only because I truly wasted an hour and a half of my time for nothing. The judge tried to get some official on the phone, but the line was busy. And by this point, I couldn’t drive over to my old precinct because it was already 7 p.m.

So, I stood in line for an hour and a half, and the only people that knew my good intentions were me and God. Unfortunately, God wasn’t listed in my precinct either. He must live in a new neighborhood too.

So it appears that the three-year-old boy standing in front of me the whole time, running circles around his mom and sister, got more out of voting than I did… I went home empty handed – no “I voted” sticker proudly displayed on my chest.

Oh, and side note – a new girl at work asked me if I was pregnant today. But that’s a story for another blog.

Why Faith Hill's Publicist is Working Overtime...

I wouldn't want to be Faith Hill's PR person right now.

What an idiot... someone must have told her she was going to win.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_P-aYADTkw

Just Hear Those Sleigh Bells…

It’s begun. That time of year when you are suddenly, and without warning, whistling the classics – Jingle Bells, Silent Night. You don’t mean to, but the excitement starts building.

Usually, I’m the only child in my relationship – Justin plays it cool, old man-ish. But today he wanted to go get Christmas lights for the house. Like, $400 worth of Christmas lights. And then he decided to create this design on notebook paper.

I guess it’s just that time of the year. I spent the day wrapping Christmas gifts. Wee!

Anyways, YAY CHRISTMAS!