Party’s Over When Somebody Vomits

I tried to post this over the weekend, but when I went to post, it wouldn't post and it didn’t save it. For some reason, I lost it, and then was too lazy to rewrite. So I’m just now trying to re-create what I initially wrote.

One of my coworkers is moving to Arizona, so we all went out for a last hurrah with her this past Friday night. She is a bit on the wild and crazy side, and brings a little of it out in everyone when we hang out. When she and I have hung out, we’ve ended up with a bachelor party of strange guys while in Hilton Head, swimming in a hotel pool to which we were not staying, and busted in on a house party that we were not invited to, nor did we know anyone at the party but pretended we did. I know, sounds a bit like college girls and less like career girls, but I’m telling it like it is. And it’s been fun.

So, about 20 coworkers all head over to a local sports bar after work on Friday and have drinks on the patio. The weather was beautiful and we were all buying her a drink and toasting to her move. After about 2 hours of enjoying the evening, it’s decided that we should all go down the street to the karaoke bar. I had never been to this particular place, and being one of the first ones there, here’s my initial observation: A) The place was small. Very small. It may have been just larger than a port-o-potty with neon beer signs by just a few feet. There was already a large party there, and with us on the way, the place would be packed. B) There was an Elvis. I guess there’s probably one in every karaoke joint. Elvis had a HUGE beer gut and wore a bright orange University of Tennessee shirt along with his gold-rimmed glasses. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised because I don’t think the combination of an Elvis impersonator, beer gut, and a UT t-shirt is uncommon. Those 3 things probably go together like Blue, Suede, and Shoes. C) There was the lingering drunk guy there by himself. The kind with longer, stringy hair and a t-shirt promoting some strip club. Classy place, I’m fully aware. When the rest of my coworkers arrived, he immediately tried to latch onto our group. Um, no. Go stumble back to your bar stool you creepy toad. Anyway, we had a good turnout show up from the previous place, about 13, which is good considering the fall-off rate in losing people is usually high when there’s a change in location. Especially for a coworker kind of thing. Anyway, the beer buckets were ordered and the karaoke began. People got up to sing that I NEVER thought would ever be a karaoke star. We were serenaded with The Humpty Dance, I Will Survive, Copa Cabana, and The Gambler. It was crazy! Halfway through the night, I look to see that I’ve got my ex-boss and a coworker grinding to the music on my left and Elvis and the toad trying to pick up another 2 coworkers on my right. And of course, more drinks for the one that’s leaving. Everyone’s having a great time until…vomit. The going away girl throws up right there in the middle of the bar. People scattered like drunk people when the lights come up at last call and they realize they’d been dancing with an ugly all night. And thus, the party was over. A few of us went back to a friend’s apartment and hung out for a little while but the buzz was pretty much killed. I got home around 3am and ate Advil like candy all day on Saturday. For some reason, I had a mega-headache that wouldn’t go away.

Forget Greek, It's All Chinese to Me

The company I work for strives to be "inclusive." In other words, they're tired of lawsuits, and they've fallen into the ridiculous "P.C." B.S. that the ACLU freaks have established in our country (yes, that's right, I said "freaks" and if you're offended, get over it. Here's a kleenex). Anyway, every month we have some sort of multi-cultural shindig for a week in celebration of some culture or another. And I'll admit, it's usually pretty interesting - Latin dance classes held in the cafeteria, an Irish dance team performance (think River Dance sans the "Lord"), or an Asian fashion show. So this past week was the Asian heritage celebration. Friday they had all kinds of Asian foods to sample (ever tried Ube ice cream? It's a purple yam that they make ice cream out of and it's not bad), the aforementioned fashion show, bonsaii trees to be raffled off, and a cute old Chinese gentleman that would write your name in Chinese. Mine's posted above. Or so I assume. How am I to know that this is actually my name? What if he's written something horrible and now I've framed it and hung it proudly in my office for all to see? So, I decided to put out a plea in the blog community. For all of you (and I'd hope you know who you are) that read Chinese, please let me know if the above indeed says "Kara." If that's not what it says, then please tell me what it says instead so I'll know if I really want to put it on display or not. I also have two more questions if you please:
1) Does anyone know if computer keyboards in China have Chinese characters on the keys? How about the keyboards in Greece, or in Iraq? I don't want to be arrogant enough to assume that all computer keyboards have western letters. I just don't know and I'm curious.
2) Does anyone want to head to China for a few weeks to set up a booth there writing Chinese people's names in English on paper to frame in their offices/living rooms? Could be a good money-maker...it worked over here...

Warning

Please bear with me during the next 4 months. I might come across as a bit snappy at times. That's because I just received my 10-year high school reunion information in the mail today (set for October 1st). I have also just officially given up food until then. Thanks in advance for your patience.

How Appropriate

So this postcard from a good friend of mine showed up in my mailbox today. Too funny!! In light of the recent couple of guys I've posted about, this is pretty appropriate.




Thanks, Sabs!

Let 'Em Down Easy, But Give Feedback

For single women out there everywhere - this will come in handy.

Dear ___________________:

I regret to inform you that you have been eliminated from further contention as Mr. Right. As you are probably aware, the competition was exceedingly tough and dozens of well-qualified candidates such as yourself also failed to make the final cut. I will, however, keep your name on file should an opening come available. So that you may find better success in your future romantic endeavors, please allow me to offer the following reason(s) you were disqualified from the competition (check all that apply).
1.___Your last name is objectionable. I can’t imagine taking it, hyphenating it, or subjecting my children to it.
2.___Your first name is objectionable. It’s just not something I can picture myself yelling out in a fit of passion.
3.___The fact that our first dining experience to date has left MY wallet a little lighter, and YOUR pants a little tighter!
4.___Your inadvertent admission that you “buy condoms by the truckload” indicates that you may be interested in me for something other than my personality.
5.___You failed the 20 Question Rule. (ie. I asked you 20 questions about yourself before you asked me more than one about myself)
6.___Your constant emailing, shows me you have TOO much time on your hands!
7.___Your legs are skinnier than mine. If I you can FIT into my pants, then you can’t GET into my pants.
8.___You’re too short. Any son that we produced would inevitably be beaten up repeatedly at recess.
9.___You have a hairy back.
10.___I find your inability to fix my car extraordinarily unappealing.
11.___The fact that your apartment has been condemned reveals an inherent slovinliness that I fear is unbreakable.
12.___The phrase “my mother” has popped up far too often in conversation.
13.___You still live with your parents.
14.___I find your wardrobe of Star Trek uniforms a little disconcerting.
15.___Your frequent references to your ex-girlfriend lead me to suspect that you are some sort of psychotic stalker.
16.___Your ability to belch the alphabet is not a trait that I am seeking in a long term partner.
17.___Your height is out of proportion to your weight. If you should, however, happen to gain the necessary 17 vertical inches, please resubmit your application.
18.___Somehow I doubt those condoms that I found in your overnight bag were really necessary for a successful business trip.
19.___I am out of your league; set your sights lower next time.

Sincerely,

Please DO NOT Reply to All

Some dumbass accidentally sent an email out to one of her coworkers today and somehow (I'm not sure how) she CCed the ENTIRE company on the email. Luckily it was work related, but this email went out to 500, 000 people that work for our company across the nation! But, she's not the biggest dumbass of them all, the bigger ones were the ones that responded and hit REPLY TO ALL, so everyone in the company got their response, too. I spent about an hour deleting all of these responses and more - over 150 by the end of the day! It jammed up the entire email system. These are just a few of the *real* reponses that people sent back (and the comments I'd love to send back to them but didn't because I was too busy trying to DELETE all of the responses instead):

This is an unauthorized use of the internet.
(Ok, genius, this isn't the internet, it's email. And who gave you a badge and told you what's authorized and unauthorized use of the internet anyway? Oh yea, Poncho called and needs the badge back)

I think my Mother even got this email!
(I bet she did. And guess what you idiot, she got your response, too, because you hit REPLY TO ALL!)

Hi, I am getting e-mails that don't belong to me, I am in San Diego
(Who knew San Diego could get email? This person sounds as shocked as I was. I thought Atlanta was the only city with email capability.)

I believe I am on the email chain in error.
(Oooooh, that's so weird. You TOO?? I thought just the other 498,000 people were on the email chain in error.)

THIS HAS REACHED THE HR DEPARTMENT - PLEASE REMOVE FROM E-MAIL LIST!!!!!
(Oh, no, not the HR department!? My, this has really gotten out of hand! They're actually having to do some work in deleting these emails, which is more work then they've had in a long time)

Please remove me from this list.
(Listen, as painful as this experience has been, at least you're on the company wide email list. If you weren't on the list, then you would not be receiving a paycheck from this company. Perhaps you should contact HR to be removed from the list. Apparently they received this email, too - see above).

Me as well! This could very well have a virus attached seeing the “ZWYZZZ” bogus mailing list.I highly recommend everyone permanently deleting these asap!
(Aww, do I hafta? I was thinking about saving the emails to occasionally bring back up and reminesce on the good times)

STOP REPLYING TO ALL!!! MY REGIONAL VP IS RECEIVING ALL OF YOUR EMAILS ON HER BLACKBERRY. PLEASE STOP!!
(Well bless her heart. What a good little administrative assistant you are to stick up for her like that. I bet you got a nice box of candy on the Admin Holiday, didn't you?)

Please do not respond to all...I have already got 12 messages..thanks
(Just 12? Oh, my friend, you're just getting started. Just wait! You know how only 10% of an iceberg's above water?)

I know that our CEO was thinking his company is filled with a bunch of morons assuming he's on the company-wide email list. And I'd probably have to go with him on that thought.

1,897,015,265 Seconds Left to Live

So I've jumped on the blog bandwagon and found my Personal Day of Death. Apparently I'll be passing on Wednesday, June 24, 2065 at the age of 88. That's good. At least by passing on a Wednesday, the funeral can be planned for a Saturday. That way, more people will be able to come. I've always liked a good turn out.

I can't believe I've ticked away 137 seconds of what I have left to live writing this.

Pop Quiz #1

I figure every so often, I’ll give all of you a few questions to answer about me. I dunno, just something to do. I know some of you are strangers that read this, but I think that’ll make this the most fun! You’ll have to guess at your answers. Use your imagination. I’m looking forward to what I get back.

Take a stab at my middle name.

What is one word to describe your first impression of me upon reading my blog?

If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what one thing would I bring?

The Bachelorette Pad

Outside of the typical condiments that you’d find in a fridge in Anywhere, USA, here’s an inventory of the contents of my fridge:

2 Yoplait yogurts (usually taken to work to eat for breakfast)*
1 opened, 1 unopened jar of pickles
3 applesauces (unsweetened and not good. They’ve become more of part of the interior fridge décor instead of something I’d actually consider eating)
½ block of cheddar cheese*
1 bag of unopened carrots (impulse purchase while I was having a healthy shopping day at the grocery store. To bad that health kick didn’t follow me home to where I’d actually open and eat them)
½ cup left of 1% milk that expires today
1 bag of wilted lettuce (to be thrown out next garbage day- I got home from the store and the salad dressing I had was expired so I just let the lettuce expire too)
3 eggs
1 container of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter (and I can’t)
3 bottled waters
1 carton of coffee creamer*
3 Bud Lights*
1 bottle of Yellow Tail Chardonney*
*denotes the MVPs of the fridge – Most Valuable Products

Now I know what you’re thinking when you read this. I’m sure it’s along the lines of – “well this girl’s a real Julia Childes – Emeril, look out!” I know, I know, it sounds like I’m a culinary genius, what with all of the amazing ingredients I have to whip up something spectacular. But you’ll be disappointed to learn that I just don’t really cook that much. Not that I don’t like to, but it’s just me here to eat it, and I don’t want to go to the trouble. It’s always too much food and it either goes to waste, or I end up having the same thing for dinner 4 or 5 nights that week to get rid of it. So I stock the freezer with Lean Cuisines, frozen burritos, and Lean Pockets instead, but I’m seriously getting tired of that repitoire. Anyone want to come over for dinner? I’ll go to the store and actually cook. Then maybe my fridge won’t look so pitiful.

Goodbye J.

Dear J.,
I’m writing you my official goodbye, and my official closing of your chapter in my life. It’s time I completely moved on - it’s been a long time coming, and a year in the making. I’ve personally come a long way since you left me as an openly raw broken shell of myself on the bathroom floor, unable to collect my tears, my thoughts, or the pieces of my broken heart. You will never, ever know the void, the emptiness, the hole that was left after you shared your decision. And I was, and still am too stubborn to ever let you know just what kind of effect you had. Always being such an independent women, I’ve never had anyone strip me of my spirit like you did, but then again, I had never been as vulnerable to anyone else as I was to you.

I have grown immensely over the year and the initial indescribable pain has thankfully subsided considerably. It’s getting better all the time. That’s a huge blessing because I was unsure at times if it’d ever stop. God knows how much I prayed for it to go away. Those first few months I’d jump for my phone thinking that it’d be you. The more times that it wasn’t, the more I realized it would never be. You haunted me in my dreams for the better part of this past year, but as the pain began to diminish, so did your appearances. It’s been a very long road, and I definitely would never go back to do it all again, I don’t think I could bare it, but I also wouldn’t want to have not experienced it at all. What a whirlwind.

In the 18 months of our relationship, I know our love was not a superficial love. I don’t think I’ll ever understand exactly how or what changed or even why, but I do have comfort and faith that while you weren’t chosen for me, you were part of the master plan for my life. And I take solace in the fact that there are more amazing things awaiting me. I can’t even imagine, and my anticipation is abundant! I realize that this experience has better prepared me for what’s to come. I’m stronger and better for it. I’ve been very careful to not let this create any hardening around my heart because I’d hate to think that you got the best of my love instead of the true person meant for me.

With the knowledge of your impending marriage this summer, I think J.M. says it best in saying that “I wish you strength when times are hard. I wish with all my heart you’ve found just what you’re looking for. I wish you joy. I wish you peace. And that every star you see is within your reach.”

With forgiveness,
Kara

PS. The new Brooks and Dunn song hits the nail on the head: It's Getting Better All the Time

I don't stop breathing every time the phone rings. My heart don't race when someones at my door. I've almost given up thinkin' your ever gonna call. I don't believe in magic anymore. I just don't lie awake at night - Asking God would get you off my mind. It's getting better all the time. It's getting better all the time. Yeah, I think I'm gonna make it - 'Cause God won't make a mountain I can't climb. It's getting better all the time. It's getting better all the time.

Attention, Please.

So, in response to someone that’s left a comment on a posting a few days ago who’s interested in what women are looking for, I’ll make my attempt at this subject. Obviously I can’t speak for all women, but I think I do have some pretty good insight. I don’t think that women are really all that difficult. Guys, what it really all boils down to is attention. Now, I’m by no means any sort of Dr. Love personality, but let me break it down for you from my own tiny little perspective from my life and observations. I’m telling you, a little bit of effort goes a very long way.

Listen attentively to what she has to say. Pay attention when she’s talking because she’s telling you what you need to know to make her happy if you’re listening for it. Now I know you guys are going to say, ‘well why doesn’t she just come out with it’, and what I’m telling you is that she does, you just have to know what to listen for. Hear her say that she’s stressed out and could use a break, and then do something about it. If you can swing it, take her away for the weekend. If not, bring home Italian takeout one night and surprise her with a picnic dinner on a blanket on the living room floor but pretend you’re in some garden in Rome instead. She’ll be thrilled that you heard her and acted on it.

Pay her attention in public. This could be as simple as opening the door for her, grabbing her hand to hold, or making eye contact from across the room. It could also be as much as grabbing her for a slow dance in the middle of the faucet aisle at The Home Depot, or stealing a kiss from her while standing in line for the movie tickets. You know how much public affection she’s comfortable with, so you can make your judgments accordingly. The point is, let her know that you even notice that she’s with you. Girls want to feel like the men that we’re with are proud and excited to be with us. Sometimes you just get so comfortable being together, that this gets overlooked.

Pay her attention in private. Every once in a while, turn the TV/computer/video game/cell phone off and ask her how her day was, or spend time with her in the kitchen cooking dinner, or help her fold the laundry without her asking for your help. Playfully grab her butt on her way past you in on the couch. Kiss her neck while she’s on the phone. Fix her a drink when you go to get one for yourself.

I’m telling you right now, that even some of the smallest attempts at taking an interest in how she’s doing, who she is, and what she’s doing, can earn you some major rewards. And in most cases, it really doesn’t take that much time or effort. Some of the most romantic things that have ever happened in my life weren’t flower petals on the bed or candlelit dinners (although both are very romantic, yet stereotypical). They were smaller things that showed me some attention, like turning up a song on the radio that reminded him of me, or calling my home answering machine from his cell phone at a party to leave me a message to get when I returned home saying how beautiful I looked that night. You get the idea. Believe me, you’ll be happier for it and pleasantly surprised at what little effort it takes.

Let me know how it goes. I’d be interested to hear. Of course, I don’t want to hear ALL of the details about how well you were rewarded, but you know what I mean.

Southern by the Grace of God

So I'd say it's pretty official. Being born and raised in the South, it's not a surprise that Southern charm flows freely from my mouth.

Your Linguistic Profile:

55% General American English

45% Dixie

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern

0% Yankee

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Yes, Grandmother, We Do

Let me start by saying that I'm really, really close to my family. I always have been, and they are an important group of people to me. All immediate family members live in the metro Atlanta area (including grandparents, aunts/uncles, cousins, etc) with the exception of my younger sister who went to school in Birmingham, AL and decided to stay there after college graduation and a cousin that is currently stationed in New Jersey with the Coast Guard. So, anyway, holidays are usually filled with making the 'rounds' to see everyone. Mother's Day being no exception. And today was the day to celebrate with the grandmothers. My dad's mom is of particular interest to me tonight for two reasons:

Number one is that my dad and aunt gave her a VCR/DVD combo player for Mother's Day. Now mind you, she's 80 years old and can barely work her telephone and answering machine. So, you can just imagine how much fun it was to try to teach her how to work the VCR/DVD player tonight. We literally went through and wrote down the steps to use it one by one starting with 'turn TV on. pick up remote and push the power button...' Watching this as an innocent granddaughter-bystander was like watching paint dry. It was slow and painful. I'll spare my readers of the insanely boring details, but suffice it to say that I doubt one movie will EVER be viewed using her "new fangled computer." But she'll be able to brag to all of her Bridge players that her son and daughter bought her a "movie machine."

The second reason is that she said something at the restaurant tonight that struck a chord with me. My uncle asked her how she was doing during dinner (as in, 'how is it? do you need anything?') and she replied, "Good. All I need is more time." Now, she meant that jokingly as if she wanted more time to eat because everything was so good. However when she said it, my first thought was, 'yes, grandmother, we do.' With her reaching the 80 year mark this past March, it occurs to me regularly that my time left with her is fleeting. She has been such an integral part of our "brady bunch-like yet slightly dysfunctional" family (hey isn't every family slightly dysfunctional?) that I can't even fathom what it would be like without her. She is a very strong Southern lady, and with that comes very decisive opinions that she's not afraid to share at any point and time, sometimes to the embarrassment of the family. But, she's a very respectable woman that has taught her children and grandchildren manners to be proud of, instilled a good work ethic to hang their hat on, and has shown us all an insurmountable amount of love. So, yes, grandmother, you're right, all I need is more time, because I'm not finished learning from you. I'm not finished being loved by you. And I'm not finished trying to express to you just how much you mean to me and our family. I don't know that I'll ever be able to do that, so if you could just stick around forever while I try, I promise I won't mind.

Hooray for Mexican Independence.

A reflection on my learnings:

• I'm either too old, or I hadn't had enough beer to put up with the preppy, drunken mosh pit of people tonight. The rain created an absolute claustrophobic nightmare inside as no one wanted to hang out on the wet patio. After so many times of getting my toes stepped on and jabbed in the side with an out of control handbag, I wanted to beat someone with their Abercrombie flip flop or fake Prada purse.
• The usual "fun and light-hearted Kara" quickly turns into "bitchy Kara" when it takes a half an hour to fight my way through a crowd. Heaven help the man that grabs my ass on the way by. "I'm sorry, I got pushed" may have been a valid excuse if you hadn't totally cupped, then slightly squeezed my left cheek!
• I've always known that I was attracted to brown-headed vs. blonde, but I realized tonight that I also have an attraction for bald men. Not balding men, but bald men. Guys that either shave their head just because or shave their head to avoid the eventual "going bald" look. Please, men, if you're going bald, don't try the comb over, the comb forward, or the math-teacher-bald-on-top-bushy-on-the-sides look. Just shave it all off. I think it's totally hot.
• Why no fireworks for the celebration? Not to brag, but I mean, we have fireworks for 4th of July...
  
  I think my Cinco's officially been de Mayoed.
  
  
  

Suite!!

Tonight I remembered the perks of working for a large company. Being “courted” by other companies with box seats. We got tickets for the TBS box suite at the Braves game tonight and let me tell you how much fun that was. Well let’s just say that it beat the heck out of ice cream and American Idol, which was on my original agenda tonight. There’s nothing like free food, free beer, and the best part? A personal bathroom at a public event. Oh yeah. No lines. No disgusting stalls. Plenty of paper towels and toilet paper. Soap in the dispenser. It’s a girls’ dream when at a stadium event (as opposed to a port-o-potty, which is obviously a girls’ nightmare)! Of course, we had to socialize a little with the sales reps for TBS, afterall, it was their suite, and they were paying for it. But luckily they didn’t stay the whole time. I hate my attempt at small talk. I’m just not very good at it. I’m either interested in what you have to say, or I’m not. It’s not something I can fake very well. So I asked my usual routine of questions, nodded politely like I was totally interested, and then found my way out to watch the game. And what a great night for a ballgame! Crisp cool air on a clear night. An ice cold beer in hand. Men in baseball uniforms. You really couldn’t do too much better on a random Tuesday night. I gotta say, just when I’m about ready to leave it all behind, I’m reminded of the benefits of the corporate world, and it draws me back in every time.

And I know you frommm....???

So I get a random call on Thursday night and here is a cliff notes version of how it goes:

Me: Hello?
Caller: Hey, Kara, it's David.
Me: Hello. David. (said cautiously while racking my brain for every David I know that might be calling me and can't think of one that would a) have my number or b) have a reason to call)
Caller (aka David from this point forward): I met you like 4 months ago, do you remember me?
Me: Oh? Maybe? (Hell no, you expect me to remember you from 4 months ago??)
David: Well, I just remember you and how much I really want to get to know you. I mean you were smokin' that night when we met. But your friend was really blocking you. She really didn't want me talking to you.
Me: You've just decided you wanted to get to know me after 4 months? (said with sarcasm AND a giggle - I mean c'mon!)
David: Well, no, I called you a few times after we met, but you never returned my call. But I want to get to know you.
Me: Ooookkaayyy. (Duh, if I didn't return the call, probably means I wasn't interested and you should not, I repeat, should not have kept my number to try back 4 months later thinking I might have forgotten why I didn't want to talk to you in the first place, which I did, but still doesn't change my mind about it)
David: Cuz I mean, when I saw you, I saw fireworks...

And it went on from there for just a few more minutes. In which case I found out that he regulates the timed traffic signals in a nearby city, needs new friends because his old ones are either (and in his words, I kid you not) "dead or on drugs," and of course, the most pressing question he had for me that evening was "what's your favorite kind of music?" Outside of us disagreeing on what our favorite colors are, I think we really connected, don't you?

Don't worry. There was no guilt here about saying no to a date with this one. Geez, when am I going to stop giving out my REAL cell number when I've been drinking? Geez, when am I going to meet someone normal?

For Those of You With Children

I’m about to make a plea to all of you with children from all of us without. Please don’t invite us to your kid’s birthday party. When we receive these invitations, there’s a sense of guilt that we have to go. I mean, it’s a little kid’s birthday for goodness sake. But as much fun as you think it is, it really isn’t. I know it’s fun for you to see your kid jumping around in the larger than life Thomas the Train jumpy thing in the backyard with 15 other kids, and that mingling with the other parents in the neighborhood is a great way to set up carpools and “mommy’s mornings out” but for those of us that get invited and don’t have a kid to bring, it’s practically torture. There’s nothing for us to do. We have no vested interest or enjoyment in watching the kids play because none of them are ours. Speaking from experience, it’s just not a good time. You can always tell which ones of us are the ones that came without the kid because somehow we get stuck wiping noses and breaking up a sandbox fight because the real parents are off comparing Tball schedules, thankful for a little adult conversation away from the kids. We’re not in conversations with the other adults because if we try to engage a fellow parent in a conversation, it usually stales just after the question, “so which one of these kids are yours?” To which the reply is, “none of them, I’m the relative/parent’s friend/etc. of the birthday boy. I don’t have any kids just yet.” It’s like if you don’t have a kid, the parents have forgotten how to discuss anything else other than children or their activities, and that leaves a lot of dead air time and uncomfortable smiling. So please, those of you with children, leave the children’s birthday parties to the other adoring parents with kids. I don't mean to sound cynical, because I'm sure one day I'll totally enjoy it, but in the meantime, cut the rest of us loose. If your kid needs a gift from me, I’ll be happy to mail it and forego the Hi-C juice box and “treat bag” handed out when I leave. Somehow I don’t think my boss would appreciate a Spiderman sticker stuck on a presentation that I think I did a good job on. However, I will admit that the individual packet of Oreos were tasty.

PS. To Alexandria’s mother: Your child is an absolute brat. I’ve never seen a child so rude in my entire life. Her tantrum over not getting a purple lollipop in her treat bag was neither cute nor something to giggle about. I hear that Paris Hilton is looking for a new side-kick for her tv show, A Simple Life. Alexandria should apply, I feel like she'd do very well, even at her young age.

PSS. To Colin's mother: Your child is a big wuss. He cried 4 times in the hour and half I was there. Geez, even girls at the ripe young age of 4 years old were rolling their eyes at him.

PSSS. To Noah's mother: One word for your son - Kleenex. He's a cute kid, but would be even cuter without the snot. I got tired of wiping his nose.

Bad Hair Day #2

Poof. And then there was dark. My electricity went out this morning, leaving me with a head full of wet hair to go to work with. When you have naturally curly hair with no ionic heat to tame it, this caused yet another bad hair day, the second of the week thus far. Let's hope for the best tomorrow. And yes, I DID pay my bill. It was out in the entire neighborhood - thank you!

I think the 'evil forces' in the world are out for me this week. Being the stubborn girl that I am, I'm not going to let them lick me! It's funny, when I'm having these kinds of mornings, there is nothing that will get in the way of my shear determination to get to work. Every other morning, it takes every fiber of my being to force myself in the office. I think I like the challenge that the 'evil forces' present me, even though I complain.

I Should Have Gone Back to Bed

That's because I had a really, really bad morning. First I woke up late. I must have turned off my alarm. Luckily, I have a cat with a demanding appetite for breakfast that finally got me up. And when I saw what time it was, I jumped up out of bed like a jack in the box - kind of stumbling around after being jolted up and out so quickly. I am not a morning girl. Coffee. I. need. coffee. So it's raining this morning (and about 40 degrees - in April!?) and I let my dog out as usual. 15 minutes later, he's telling me he's got to go again. So I take him back out. But because it's raining and cold, he just wants to stand in the yard and shiver instead of doing his business. So we go back in and I proceed with my morning get ready routine. 10 minutes later, he's desperate to go out. But no, just sniffing around and eating some grass, but no business got done. So finally, I'm just about ready to walk out the door for work and decide to let him out again, so I don't have to come home and clean up an accident, but I let him out on his own this time as I've got to brush my teeth and find my shoes. Once completely ready to go with keys in hand, there's no sign of my dog. And I call for him and call for him. Nothing. So I trapse out into the rain and call and call some more. 10 minutes later, he comes bolting back towards the house. He knows he's in BIG trouble because at this point I'm freakin' furious with him. Now my hair's soaking wet from the rain after looking for him and I've got to go back inside to dry it. No time to restyle, so it just gets pinned back. And now I feel frumpy. Because it's now turned into a bad hair day on top of everything else. It was at this point that I should have just gotten back in the bed. But no, being the trooper that I am, I plowed on. Right into traffic. Apparently there's some sort of unwritten rule that if there's a light rain coming down, you must not go any faster than 35 mph even though the speed limit is 65. I'm even later for work. At work I find one of the last semi-decent parking spaces, but the jackass next to me parked too close to the white line. But I squeeze my car between the concrete pillar and the jeep cherokee anyway and practically have to climb out of my sunroof to get out. Oh well, I made it. And luckily, I made it in under the radar. No one noticed I was late. But then, I'm responding away to my 500 daily emails I usually start with in the morning, and respond to one from my boss. To which I get a reply, "We're in our staff meeting getting the AARP presentation, where are you?" Damn those blackberries! Damn my Outlook for not reminding me of meetings. So I reply that I had "just gotten back to my desk from another meeting that ran over and didn't want to interupt the presentation because I was so late." Did he buy it? Who knows. He didn't respond. And I had that sinking feeling in my stomach until lunch. The day moved back towards status quo after lunch, but the morning was a bitch. Next time I'll just get back in bed. I like it better there on a cold and rainy day anyway.

The Boys that Stand Out

In preschool there was John Boston. Oh how we were in love. So much so that I even named my goldfish after him. You know you've really got something special when you name a goldfish after someone.

In Kindergarten there was Luke. He was pretty much just a fling. He lived across the street and our moms caught us playing doctor in my living room one afternoon. The thrill was gone after we had to explain to our dads what we had done. That'll kill a romance quick.

In 2nd grade there was Tony Sewell. He professed his love to me one day before lunch and I checked the 'yes' box admitting to loving him too. Too bad we ended up in a lover's food fight throwing corn at one another and both sent home with pink slips to mom. Hey, he started it! We weren't allowed to have pudding on Friday as our punishment. He was dumped the next week. A girl's gotta have her Friday pudding!

Buddy Funk was my crush in the 5th grade. He lived in the next neighborhood over and rode my school bus. All of the girls would go over to his house after school to see if he wanted to come ride bikes and play girls chase boys. Good thing he was a little hottie. He had to be with that name! Wonder where he is today? (Buddy, call me)

In middle school, no one else would do but Jason Griffin. Boy, I was smitten. He hugged my teddy bear that I brought in for a school project and left his cheap cologne smell on it. I slept and sniffed that thing for weeks thereafter. Probably had a bald spot on it's neck where all of the fur fibers were inhaled in my nose. I think he's in jail now. Good thing we didn't work out.

As a high schooler, I was a stalker, I mean, a sucker for Bart Meehan. It was the stereotypical story: He was a senior, I was a freshman. He was smart and tall and handsome and didn't have a clue who I was. I had braces and glasses and I changed the way I'd walk to class just to pass him in the hallway and stare. On yearbook signing day, I finally worked up enough nerve to get him to sign my yearbook. My friend Annie took our picture from afar while I was standing next to him to capture what I had hoped to be a budding romance. I was really smooth and wrote, "have fun in collage." I later realized he was going to college, not collage. Doh! Smart one, Kara, really smart. We might be together today if only I knew how to spell college under pressure.

Speaking of college, I'm going to skip over my days in college because in all honesty, it's all a bit fuzzy anyway. I think there were 2 Ryans and a Shawn in the mix. Stories for another time.

At any rate, I'm looking forward to who's next in my lottery of love.

Not Good for 7 Days Past the Expiration Date

$152 due by 5/12.

That's what's going to keep me from a warrant for my arrest after receiving my first ever ticket. Mind you, not the first time I've ever been pulled over. I've been pulled over 4 other times for various things such as speeding, speeding, running a stop sign, and oh yea, speeding. It's just the first time that smiling, flirting, and a bit of cleavage if absolutely necessary didn't get me a warning instead of a ticket. And of all things, it's for a stupid expired license plate registration. In Georgia, your registration is due by your birthday. After that, it's considered expired. My birthday was on 3/3, and I was pulled over and ticketed on 3/25. For NOTHING other than the possibility that my tag was expired. As luck would have it for Mr. Policeman, it was. And he wouldn't give in despite my best attempt to be friendly, sweet, and yes, I even pulled out the big guns. (uh oh, have I lost it?) He did only give me warning on my address change on my driver's license though. Bless his heart ( in this case, it's Southern for "bastard").

From Paint Thinners to...

strippers.
If my gig at the corporate "orange box" needs some "improvement," at least I've been given a name to put on my resume for my next move up the corporate pole, I mean, ladder.

Your Stripper Name is: Trixie

Get your own Stripper Name

The Guilty Dozen

So today I get a call from our receiving department that I have flowers. Flowers? Well, maybe they're from a vendor. How sweet. But what for? So I trot my little happy ass down to the dungeon of the office building to pick up my flowers. What girl isn't excited to get flowers? When I show up, they hand me a vase of a dozen red long stem roses. I immediately realize these aren't from a vendor. And I open the card, and it reads, "Thinking of you." And it's from the guy mentioned in the posting below. Dammit. Just when I had made up my mind to say no again to his request for a date, he goes and does this. Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't want to come across as ungrateful. Not at all. I'm very appreciative and very flattered that he sent them to me. They're stunning. And I did call to thank him, after all, I was raised with manners. But a dozen red roses and I haven't even agreed to a date yet? It's overwhelming. And although many of you in the previous post encourage a date, I've since decided in follow up phone conversations with him since Saturday's party to yet again decline. Not only do we not have anything in common (another for instance is that he's at a Star Wars convention this weekend and I haven't even seen the movies), but although he says he wants to get to know me, somehow we'll spend the next 45 minutes talking about him. Or his dog. Or one of his friends. But now I feel so guilty. So tell me, do flowers constitute at least a first date out of guilt even though I'm positive I have zero romantic attraction for him? How can I say no now?

Jury Duty

• I got fired from a job and I'm completely broke. When do you think they'll send our checks for serving?
• I got a girl pregnant and my girlfriend's pissed off
• My brother's been in court enough times to know how the system works
• Do you think Budweiser is allowed during our lunch break, and if so, do you think being drunk will get you out of coming back?

What, you ask, in the world is this? Well, those are the comments made by a fellow potential juror standing behind me in the Cobb County Superior Courthouse this morning as I dutifully reported for jury duty (again. mind you, I've been called 3 times in the past 5 years. not sure what kind of list I'm on, but apparently I'm "their kind."). We couldn't have been in line more than about 2-3 minutes and I learned all of that information in that short timespan. I thought to myself, aren't there just some things that aren't really a shining moment in your life and really shouldn't be discussed in public like that? I couldn't figure out if he was proud of these things or oblivious to the fact that perhaps not all of us have been guests on Jerry Springer, too.

I'm on a 2-hour lunch break from sitting in the juror room waiting for my panel number to be called. I'm sure I'll have at least one or two more fun stories to tell when I get back home tonight after returning to the random gene pool microcosm of Cobb County that our government's thrown together.

Iota Nada Nup Nothing

Ok friends, I need some help. I went to a friend's impromtu party on Saturday where low and behold, one of the partygoers is this guy that's asked me out 2 or 3 times in the past to which I've declined every time. And par for the course, he's trying again. Here's the tough part. I think this guy's somewhat attractive but we have NOTHING in common in the least. NOTHING. Did I mention there's not one drop of iota nada nup nothing that we have in common? Well, there isn't. Which is why I've declined 2 or 3 times now. However, you have to give this guy kudos for being persistent. I mean, c'mon, if a guy tells me "no" even once, I'm not going back in the ring for another round of rejection. Hell no, if I'm down, I'm down for the count. But for whatever reason, this guy, like one of those new foam core mattresses that retains it's shape, keeps coming back. And maybe his persistence is paying off, because I feel like I might cave. He may have made some progress. Which is where all of you come in. I need some advice. Do I keep saying no knowing that there's really nothing we'll connect on, or do I keep an open mind and finally say yes to this poor guy to just see what happens? If I'm going to be totally honest, I've said no in the past because I felt like he'd be the type to fall in love quickly. You know the kind. The ones that think you're the "one" after just one date. He's already told me I'm the "marrying kind." I'm the type that holds my heart back, and I fee like I'd be in the predicament of breaking a heart. That is usually the case when it comes to men for me. Sometimes it's so much easier in the beginning to say no, then to actually say yes only to say no after someones feelings are involved. Did that make any kind of sense? I have to admit, I enjoy the attention, but in the few mutual parties we've been at together, there just hasn't been anything of interest that we'll both agree to enjoying. For instance, he's a big video-gamer and I'm sooo not. If it were up to me, I'd go back to old school nintendo with only the up/down/left/right and A/B buttons. Believe you me, I can kick some Super Mario Bros. fire-ball breathing dragon ass to save the princess! Better yet, the Atari joy stick. I could at least manage that in getting Frogger through the traffic. But these days, my goodness, I can't make my fingers (yes, all 10 of them) figure out which buttons to push when! Another for instance is that he doesn't really watch football, and we all know what a HUGE fan of football I am. It consumes my life in the Fall. I know those are superficial things, but those are just 2 of many. So guys, what do I do? Do I stay the course and say no again? Do I say yes to prove to myself and to him that I was right in saying no all of this time? Or do I say yes and maybe become pleasantly surprised that we actually may have something in common to talk about? I know I'm making this a lot more complicated then it should be, but I've found myself in this same situation more times then I can shake a stick at, and I've never come home pleasantly surprised. Usually I'm telling the guy after a few boring dates that I don't think we should see each other anymore, only to be stalked by the guy, or to have him cry in my car for an hour, or to have him send me a cassette tape of songs that remind him of me. With those experiences in my past, I thought I had learned my lesson, but because this guy keeps coming back like the freakin' energizer bunny, no is getting harder and harder to tell him. Thoughts or advice anyone?

2005 Dateless Friday Night# 14

Things that I did this Friday night instead of going on a date:

• Chased my Dog Through the Neighborhood After Work, Making Me Late to Meet Up with Friends
• Met 2 Cool New Girl Friends to Hang Out With (and most women know how hard it is to even meet one new girl friend you actually like, so meeting 2 is a gold mine. and of course, they're 2 more to add to my long list of friends that are beautiful with their crap together and single.)
• Ran up a $150 Bill on Appetizers and Several Glasses of Red Wine at the Lobster Bar and Didn't Pay a Dime (gotta love vendor gifts!)
• Played a Round of "Confessions" (must have been the wine) and Had a Great Laugh
• Started Planning a Trip to Greece with Above Said 2 New Friends (can you just imagine the stories we'll come back with?)
• Enjoyed Making Meaningless "Flirty" Eyes at Guy Across the Bar.
• Home by 11pm
• Unloaded Everything Out of My Kitchen Cabinets (one of my coworkers is coming over in the morning to cut new cabinet shelves for me)
• Ran a Load of Dishes Through the Dishwasher
• Read Blogsites I'm Addicted To
• Attempted to Add Links to my Blogsite Unsuccessfully (thanks for trying, David)
• Jotted Down This Utterly Compelling Post
• Had a Really Great Time (that's the bottom line. really. it is.)

I Can Count to 10 on my Fingers

Ok, enough already people. I just heard on the news about a lady in Vegas that says she has an unaccounted for finger out there somewhere in the world and wants DNA tests run on the Wendy's chili finger to see if it's hers. It's just sick. I have a hard time believing that a finger was even actually in the chili before the lady starting eating it. And assuming it was in there, wouldn't you notice it on the spoon before putting it in your mouth? I mean c'mon! The flimsy plastic spoons aren't THAT big to accomodate half a finger - and wouldn't you notice the extra weight when lifted from the bowl? If everyone could just do me a favor and count your own fingers to make sure you have what you're supposed to have (I happen to still have all 10, some of you may have fewer, whatever), and then just keep them to yourselves, we'll all live happily ever after. And we'll stop getting utterly grossed out by hearing about them on the news every few days. Thaaaanks.

Ah Spring - Where Everything is...Yellow

Aack! Cough! Wheez!
For those unaware of the whole pollen situation here in the South, let me explain - although even the best of explanations will never do the actual experience any justice, whatsoever.
So let's start with just exactly what a pollen count is. Well boys and girls, this is the amount of pollen particles measured in the last 24 hours in a cubic meter of air (how would you like that job?). Anything over120 is what they like to call "extremely high". Well, 4,000 is the pollen count today! You saw correctly, and no, those aren't extra zeros. The pollen count is 33% higher then the "extremely high" count!?(who knew I could do math? Wait, before I get too proud, is that even right?) Everything here is absolutely covered in a bright yellow dust. Red cars look orange. When you breath, you feel the fine yellow pollen dust infiltrating your lungs. A cloud of yellow dust kicks up from car tires as they pass down the street. You can even see your shoe print in the layer of yellow dust on your front porch (or front stoop as Northerners like to call it, and no, I don't have a hound dog with a rope tied to it's collar laying outside my front door). The landscape and the weather are beautiful, but it's a complete tease because no one wants to spend time outside breathing in the pollen. You can actually see it hanging in the air. People sneeze, sniffle, cough, and wheez. Eyes water and itch, along with the back of your throat and nose. Everyone is operating on a nice high from an allergy medicine buzz. Oh well, Denver gets a nice dusting of snow in April; the South gets a nice dusting of tree, grass, and ragweed pollen. And even still, there's no where else I'd rather live.

Straight From the Masters

Jim, so sorry, babe, but you got bumped off my top 5 list this weekend after watching the Masters. My newest member to my top 5 list is now Chris Dimarco. Ping!

Crying Cars

I was walking to my car after having to stay late to finish a presentation. I admit I was in a grumpy mood – ready to go home after having a very rotten Monday at work. As soon as I got to my level in the parking garage, I couldn’t help but notice someone’s blaring car alarm echoing against the concrete floor, walls, and beams. All I could think of was “someone please shut that car up!” And it was just then that I realized how much car alarms and screaming children are so much alike.

Top 5 List and Then Some

My friend and I got on the subject of “top 5s” the other day at work. It’s inspired me to jot my list down so I can go back and laugh at myself in the years to come. Notice a hair color theme though? I guess I tend to be a bit biased towards the dark headed guys (except for Kirk).

My Top 5 List
Matthew McConaughey – One word, one syllable. HOT. And Southern. Mmmmhmmm.
Kirk Herbstreit – My heart flutters when I hear him say “Roll Tide” on ESPN’s College Gameday …I actually met him once and turned into “that girl” that couldn’t form a sentence to save her life. He was very impressed. I could tell by the way he rolled his eyes at my failing attempt to speak.
James Denton - The guy from Deparate Housewives- I’m sure there’s a one-liner here about a plumber’s crack I wouldn’t mind seeing. (ba-da dum, ding)
Tom Cruise – Love at first flight - Top Gun in the 4th grade. Unfortunately I grew taller and well, he didn’t. Still makes my list even despite his vertical challenge. (Insert your own horizontal zinger here.)
Jim Caviezel – Kissing him might be kind of odd seeing that he did such an awesome job playing Jesus in Passion of the Christ. But he’s hot. I’m sure I’d get over that fast.

Runners up that can rotate in on a whim
Ashton Kutcher – C’mon Ashton. You forget Demi. I’ll forget whatever nothing’s going on in my love life. And then I guess you can consider yourself ‘punked’.
Tim McGraw – But please, only with the hat on.

Secret Crushes that no one knows (except the entire internet now)
David Letterman- It’s gotta be his personality. That’s all I can think of. I love a man that’ll make me laugh.
George W. Bush-I don’t know. He’s kind of goofy and powerful all at once. It’s endearing. We’ve already established that I’m a dork. I guess it’s just further proof. As if you needed any.

Would love to hear from the peanut gallery on who their top 5 or secret crushes are. Anyone? Anyone?

Exclusive Interview No Other Blogsite Has...

Let's hear it for DDDDDDaaavvvvidddd, the Louisianna blogger, and LSU fan, bless his heart!!

So he's asked to be interviewed and the following are his ever so thought-provoking, emotionally stirring, questions. Oprah/Barbara, move over. Ladies, get the tissues out.

1) If you could see one person from history fully naked, who would it be and why?
2) Describe the craziest thing you've ever done.
3) When was the last time you had a side-splitting laugh and what were you laughing about?
4) What was the last dream that you had? If you can't remember, then what was the last daydream that you had?

And finally, as the camara angle closes in on just David's face, soft dramatic music begins in the background and the lighting dims. I ask in a hushed tone while placing a hand on his arm,
"So tell me David. This is the question everyone wants to know but no one wants to ask. We all know how hard this must be for you. But for your fans, they simply must know...
5) If you were a piece of cheese, what kind of cheese would you like to be and why?"

I know, I'm a dork. And I can't help it. But I actually have one more question:
Do you know where Gena, LA is? I have family that lives there.

Ok, I look forward to reading your answers when you post them up on your site.

Anyone else that feels moved to answer any or all of the questions above, please do and let me know where to find your answers!!

Stirring the Pot and Asking More Questions

Wow, I created quite a stir with my last post, didn't I? Well good!! To both men that left comments on the last post, first of all, thank you. It's always good to get the male's perspective. Secondly, these women are what I say they are. They (myself included) get asked out, just not by men they'd want to date (for instance, the last guy that asked me out this weekend was 5'4, Jewish, and at 29 still lived at home with his parents. No big deal other than the fact that I'm 5'7, Southern Baptist, and own my home - the cards are stacked against that relationship from the word go). What I'm asking for are the men that are the male version of these women. These women (again, including myself here) have worked hard to get where they are, and we're all looking for a sort of "counterpart" to compliment what we've done for ourselves so far. Where are these men? The men that are ambitious, the ones that take responsibility seriously enough to get a dog, or even dare I say a house, or at least an apartment of their own without roommates? The ones that work hard, but play hard. The ones that are stable, and no, not the "bad boys." We're all over that phase as we're all in our late 20's. And we're not looking for the "free ride" either. We can and do pay our own bills. It's the real deal we'd like to finally find. The companion. The partner. The other half.
I will give validation to the "Cinderella Complex" or the intimition factor. With good looks and everything in place, I can see where guys don't really know what they'd have to offer or where they'd fit in. But even with gushes of smiles and laughter, hair tossing, arm touching, and welcoming gestures, we attract the wrong men (case in point, please see above in the guy that asked me out this past weekend), or no men at all. There has to be something I'm missing. Like where the "good" guys hang out and just what does it take to get them to take the initiative? I see married ugly women all the time. And I can help but think, if she got someone to ask her, why are the rest of us having such a hard time?
Lastly, please don't think we're all desparate to marry. That's not it at all. I'm just bringing up the point that it's even difficult to find someone we'd actually want to date. I don't think our standards are so high nothing will do, but they aren't so low that we'd consider dating just anyone. Like I said, we've worked hard to get where we are, we take the time to get dressed, to make sure our hair and clothes look nice, and we're just looking for a guy that takes the same kind of pride in his life and appearance as well. I guess we're just not willing to settle. We haven't for anything else in our lives, why should we settle for the men in our lives?

Whew. I think I'm done with my soapbox.

Beautiful, Single Women With Their Crap Together

Dear all eligible, dateworthy single men,

What the hell is wrong with you? Where are you? I have several absolutely beautiful friends that are all single and I have NO IDEA why. Let me give you a run down of just a few:

Let's start with my friend, "T.H." She's gorgeous. She's smart. She's tall. She's creative, and she's extremely talented. She's got long auburn hair that most women would die for, or at least dye for. She's funny, got a great smile, got a great job, and owns her own house. She loves to travel, loves to camp, loves to fish, loves to hike, owns a jeep AND a bassett hound. Hello!? She's by all accounts, a dream girl for any man who loves the outdoors. And she's single. Are you freakin' kidding me? I just don't get it.

Next, let's discuss my friend, "S.A." She's sassy. She's full of life and full of fun. She's beautiful. She's the essential absolutely take home to mom girl. She's intelligent. She's got a great job, owns her own house, and loves to entertain. She's a GREAT cook - you should try one of her Puerto Rican dishes! She loves to laugh. She's adventurous. She's courageous. And she looks adorable in any outfit she puts on. She undoubtedly will be the perfect wife and the perfect mom, and well-deserving of the perfect husband and father. She's extremely thoughtful and giving and she, too, is single. Again, are you freakin' kidding me? I just don't get it.

Third is my friend at work, "D.O." She is one of the funniest women I've ever met. She's constantly making me laugh. She's down-to-earth. She knows what she's talking about. She's totally got it together. She's very, very pretty with a perfectly straight and super white smile. She also owns her own house and has a great job. She does something to impress me every day and she doesn't even know it. She's very strong and very brave. She's so fun-loving and laid back, you just can't help but like her. She never gets stressed or uptight. Again, single, you know the drill. I don't get it.

I really could go on and on and on about many of my other single friends that I just don't understand why they're single. Single women with everything going for them. All with all kinds of different personalities. "C.C" is very bold and a bit on the wild side - but never a dull moment. "O.A." is hysterical and completely knows herself and what she wants. "D.P." and "H.P." - sisters with beautiful eyes, great jobs, independent, sweet as can be, and just so much fun to be around. I mean, if you're a worthy single guy, I've probably got a great single friend to suit your ideal of a perfect girl. Really, I do.

The problem is, where are the worthy single men? And what is wrong with you that you haven't asked any of these incredible women out? It boggles my mind that these women have gotten along this far in life without being snatched up. Are you guys afraid of women that have their crap together? Are you afraid of women with good jobs and independence and put a roof over their own heads? Well you should be ashamed if you are. These are the very women you should want. These are the women that will take care of you and love you for you, and not for what you can give them. These are the women that won't suck the life out of you because they don't have a life of their own. These women are the ones that you'll fill a want, a desire, a passion in their lives, which in my book, it much better than a woman that only is with you as a need. I'd take passion and desire over neediness any day , but that's just me and I'm not a man. So what is it that men want? What more could you ask for then what these women have to offer?

I challenge you to start up a conversation or ask these ladies out the next time you see them at the office, at the grocery store, at the art gallery, or even at the gas station. Somehow, I don't think you'll be disappointed that you did. Get YOUR crap together and get going.

Sincerely,
Kara

PS. I don't want to be left out, either. Please keep me in mind in your search as well. Yep, I'm single with a good job, a house of my own, a good-working brain...you know the drill.

My Interview

Ok, so I asked a fellow blogger, David (http://davidsdailytalkandblog.blogspot.com/ - if I knew how to do the whole highlight David's name to click on it, I would, but I don't, so this it what you get instead - 4/5/05 -SWEET! David helped me figure it out!!) to send me some interview questions. I think he's done a good job coming up with some (even for what I assume to be an LSU fan - and thanks for the correction, I AM a die hard Alabama fan! Roll Tide), so here we go.

1) If you could relive one day of your life, which day would it be and why?
There are so many days I'd love to relive - to fix something I did wrong or said, or because I loved the day so much I want to do it again, or to change the course of events after that day. I'm not sure which to pick to write about. I guess I'll pick the day my friend, Tiffany, and I went to Seward as one of our day trips while in Alaska. That whole trip out there was so inspiring for me. It was a really, really good time in my life - I was where I wanted to be in all aspects and I was really happy. But the day we went to Seward was just amazing. The drive down from Anchorage was breathtaking and the mountains made me realize just how insignificant I am in the whole scheme of things. I got to see and experience and feel so many things I've never had the chance to. Independence, true self-confidence, completely awe-struck, wildlife I may never see again, God's creation untouched by man, the enormity of a glacier, the exhilaration of potentially running into bear, the emerald green water of Humpy's Cove, Puffins, Beluga whales - I mean, I had all kinds of senses and feelings going on all day and I was living life. It was one of the most raw moments of actual life that I've ever had. I felt like a kid and a grown-up all at the same time. I'd love to get all of the sensations and feelings back and do it and feel it all again. I'll post a few pictures once I figure out how to again.

2) On your blog, you talked about how you have always been the one who, and I quote " Tries to be the good girl " Got any bad girl stories that you can share? Jello wrestling in college? Streaking the quad? Beating cats with sticks? .. That kinda stuff.
LOL, I have quite a few bad girl stories actually. I just like to let others think that I don't. I could tell you about my time at Mardi Gras in '99. But I won't. It's that whole Las Vegas/New Orleans - it all stays there. Being from Louisiana, I'm sure you understand. So let's see, what else have I got in the arsenal? For something boring but bad, I stole a test in the 5th grade with 2 of my friends while our teacher and the rest of our class were at recess. We all made A's. For something a little more risque - I fooled around with this girl's boyfriend (now husband) one Halloween not because I was attracted to him, but strictly because she was such a complete BITCH to me all of the time. She still is to this day, but I know a little secret she'd absolutely freak out about, so I just grin and bare it. She'd go ballistic if she ever found out. It's like an atomic bomb I have that can be used in an extreme emergency. I haven't pushed the button on it because her world would crumble if I did, but I know I could, and it's enough for me to get by when she's rude to me.

3) If you could go and meet and talk with any person in the world today that is still living. Who would it be and what would you want to talk to them about?
At the risk of getting all political, I would go and meet and talk with George W. Bush. As controversial as he is, I like that man. A lot. I wouldn't talk about worldly or even Presidential things. I'd just like to hang out with him over dinner with BBQ pork chops, cornbread, fried dill pickles, fried okra...you know, a good Southern meal. He seems so down to earth, and such a good-hearted man, I'd just like to talk to him about whatever came up. No agenda. Just down home conversation. He's "good people" in my book. I'm proud to call him my President. Ok, Ok, maybe I'd go and talk to Matthew McConaughey about us getting married. I mean, come on, we're totally soul mates. Anyone can see that. He just doesn't realize it yet because he's all the way in Hollywood and I'm in Atlanta. But we're so meant to be.

4) If you were suddenly fired from your job and banished from your profession (it could happen).. What other type work do you think you would pursue?
I would definitely become a stripper, naturally! Talk about a relaxed dress code at the office. And I hear the hours and the pay's good, too. No, seriously, I'd become a vet or a pet psychologist. I love animals, and it'd be such a pleasure to be around them all day. They make me laugh with every one of their unique personalities.

5) When you have a day off. What is the #1 thing you look forward to being able to do? Sleeping in and being on my schedule and not anyone else's. I'm a "doddler." I like to take my time sipping my coffee, and hanging out with my cat and dog, and just doddling around. Not even looking at what time it is because I'm not on any time crunch to be anywhere to do anything at any certain time. That's what I enjoy.

So, thanks to David for the interview. I enjoyed your questions! If anyone's interested in being interviewed themselves, see the rules below.

Interview Rules:1. Leave me a comment saying "interview me" 2. I'll respond by asking you five questions here on my site (you'll each get your own questions) 3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions 4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post 5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you'll ask them five questions.

Laughing Gas

I went to the dentist on Monday to get a cavity filled and I got to enjoy that wonderful, wonderful thing they call laughing gas. I had forgotten what that was like since it's been so long since I've had to get a filling.

Anyone know where you can get like a trial size of that stuff to keep in your purse? You know, for those times when your stomach sinks once you realized you've missed an important meeting, or if some idiot calls to cancel a date last minute? You can just laugh it off instead of wasting your time getting upset. It'd be kind of like those "easy button" commercials that Staples has out there right now.

Out Before The Game Even Started

I'm having to re-create this post, so it may not be as good as what I wrote last night (dammit, why didn't I save it?). I'll explain after I'm done.

1) I was really interested in your business venture. I find work vans extremely sexy. I was looking forward to riding around in one.
2) You had stellar conversation skills. Moments of silence every few minutes support that claim. And I never once was bored, ever, not even when you talked about licensing and the differences between trademarks and servicemarks for 15 minutes. Now that's quality "get to know you" conversation if I've ever had it! Gee, I'm really going to miss that.
3) Your latching on so quickly didn't at all make the "needy" alarm sound in my head.
4) Knowing now what I didn't know then, there is nothing else that I'd rather have done this week then talk to you, not even, say, cleaning my baseboards or using a Qtip to clean the rubber part of my fridge door. I don't wish I had any of that time back, not even one minute.
5) When you called to cancel our date 3 hours beforehand, well I just cried for hours and hours. Oh my, my - where will I go? Whatever shall I do?

Oh, and there's one more thing...
Girls lie too.
We don't care how much money you make, what you drive, or what you weigh.
Size doesn't matter anyway.
Girls lie too.
Don't think you're the only one to bend it, break it, stretch it some.
We learn from you.
Girl's lie too.

Thank you for freeing up my Friday night so I can go and actually have some fun. And good conversation. Looks like those baseboards will have to wait.

Ok, so here's the deal. I spent a good deal of time talking to this guy on the phone this week and we set up a date for Friday night. I thought, what the hell? A free meal can do the body and wallet good. He wasn't exactly my dream guy, but I was game (or glutton for punishment, however you want to see it). Anyway, he was supposed to call me last night to confirm the time and place etc, and I didn't hear from him. All night. And I was pissed. So I wrote a posting very similar to what I have above (albeit was probably better because it was in the moment, you know?) and posted it to my site - which he reads, or at least he did. However, 11:30pm rolls around and low and behold, I get a call. I get some story about how he was tired and fell asleep all night and was sorry blah blah blah. So, I give him a fair share of grief because my gut tells me he's lying through his teeth, but I air on the forgiving side and continue to agree to see him - obviously against my better judgment. So while he's on the phone last night, I franctically reboot my computer so I can delete the post I just posted (similar to the one above) so he doesn't get the chance to read it. Close call! But oh how I wish I had left it alone - or at least saved it as a draft. But I was panicked. So today comes and I get a call from him around 4:30pm that he's not going to be able to go. And then a long moment of silence (shocker, I know, because of the stellar conversation skills as mentioned earlier), leaving ample time to explain or come up with some excuse, but nope, I get nothing. So I say, "ok" in a cheery voice, wish him a good weekend and hang up. I'm off to hang out with some friends instead. Probably will have more fun anyway. Weird-o.

Aren't you grateful, all you married people, that you don't have to deal with this type of stuff? The upside is that it makes for some great material for blogsites.

Skin Cream

So I had to take my cute little Darby to the vet on Monday night because he had a skin irritation. Do you know that 20 minutes in the little vet room, wrestling with my dog to stay on the cold stainless steel table, and one tube of skin cream later cost me $98? $98?? Really? What did you do Dr. Vet? I'm in the wrong business. If I could get someone else to do the whole "sample gathering" step (those with pets know what kind of sample gathering I'm talking about. let's just say it's not a sample from the end that barks), I'd totally be a vet! Playing with cute animals and then gauging their pet-loving moms and dads out of $98 bucks for 20 minutes time is quite the money-making racket. Ah well, what's a mom to do? I'll wait for next paycheck to get the shoes I want. The baby comes first. His skin irritation is looking much better if you were concerned. The box the cream came in, well, that's not looking as good. He decided it'd be fun to tear that into little pieces while I was typing this post.

Drinks with the Boss

We had a new guy start last week. This guy happens to think that he's been hired as our "boss" but will actually be viewed as more of the "resident raise-giver" to our team. We'll let him think that we're following his leadership as long as it keeps the money coming in. Hey, reviews are coming up in April. He won't know any different than what we tell him, so, it's totally win-win. He seems pretty cool by most accounts, young and single, so he fits into our group. Being new in town, and with no other plans by his own admission, he invited his new team out for drinks tonight. He even offered to pick up the tab! Bless his heart, he hasn't been with the company long enough to know that the tolerance level of a group increases dramatically after working for our company, and that his bill would probably come close to his mortgage payment! And yet he didn't even blink. I think I saw him swallow hard, but no blinking, I'm sure of it. Anyway, in the course of the conversation, I inadvertantly managed to become "that girl." I have somewhat of a sarcastic sense of humor, but sometimes I do it so well that it comes across as serious and some people, especially new people, don't realize I'm joking. So, unfortunately, the conversation of the evening revolved around work and the office, even though we'd make failed attempts to really pretend to care about each other's lives (you know, asking questions about family members and then tuning out the answers). As we spoke about work, something came up about a strategy we're working on and the work I've put into it, and he made the comment of "you're my new favorite person." And I quickly quipped, "well, I always want to be the boss' favorite," which was supposed to be sarcastic but came across as more of a brown-nosing comment. Ugh. There was nothing I could do to save it. It was out there and lost in the recorded minutes of the conversation. I felt like the personified character on all of the teenie bopper tv shows - you know, the girl with long, mousey straight black hair, a Catholic school girl skirt, glasses, and a stack of books in hand, practically riding piggy back on her teacher not to miss a move. Complaining about an A when she feels she should get the A+. Oh well, he's only been with us for a week. Over time, he'll find that that's not really the case. I really don't care if he chooses me to be his favorite as long as - you guessed it - I get a good raise every April.

Grumpy Old Man

Dear Grumpy Old Man at the grocery store:

I appreciate you letting my friend Alisha and I infront of you in line at the grocery store on Saturday morning seeing that we only had 2 items and you had about $300 worth in your cart. However, I sincerely did not appreciate your look of utter disdain when Alisha asked very politely if we could go in front of you. She also reinforced the fact that you didn't have to let us, but YOU said it would be ok. The rude utterings under your breath, something to the effect of our "time must be more valuable than yours" and that we "should have gotten up earlier in the morning if we were in such a hurry," lead me to believe that you were an unwilling participant in letting us go ahead of you. But again, no one twisted your arm on this one, mister. What you don't know is that we had indeed been up and running errands since 7:30am and that we had already been to Target, Atlanta Bread Company, and WalMart, and that the grocery store was the last stop for us before we hurriedly took off to get back before guests arrived for the baby shower we were throwing. You, however, were scruffy with beard growth and undoubtedly hadn't even taken a shower yet. Maybe YOU should have gotten up earlier to at least taken care of simple basic hygiene before entering the public world. Huffing and puffing and uttering rude things after you've agreed to do something is very immature behavior, especially for someone in at least his 50s. And let me remind you that we were checked out and headed out the door before you even finished unloading half your cart! Somehow I don't think that we threw a kink into your schedule for the day. All I want to say is that if you agree to do something, don't begrudge it. Afterall, it was your decision, and you, too, may need a favor one day. Anyway, thanks again for letting us in front. My advise to you would be to work on your attitude. You'd be a much happier person. Hope the rest of your day was better. And yes, the baby shower went off without a hitch, not that you're all that interested. Best regards, Kara

What Stinks

Here's another task that stinks for someone who lives alone: taking out the trash.

I can't stand it. I think to myself every Sunday evening when gathering the trash, taking it to the trashcan and struggling to roll it to the top of my driveway that I wish so much that I could hire some guy to come do this for me once a week. That's all - just come collect my garbage and take it to the top of the driveway. 10 minutes max. And it never, never fails that it's raining on Sunday evenings at the exact time I'm ready to take it to the curb. Never fails. So I run out there with a large black bag filled with garbage from every trash can in my house, haul it up and over the side of the big garbage can, being careful not to use too many fingers to pick up the lid or touch the handle, usually in the rain. Then the wheels of the can get bogged down in what's now become mud from the rain and I try not to step in the mud myself, instead wrestling with this large can now waited with garbage until I can get it at the right angle to pull it free onto the concrete driveway. Feeling good about my accomplishment when it's finally at the curb, I always somehow think, this isn't my job. It never was growing up - it was my dad's. But then again, Kara, who else is going to do it? Yep, looks like I'm it. Inevitably at least one or two times a month, I'll come home from a long day at work and dressed in heels and work clothes, go to retrieve the empty garbage can from the curb and find that it's still full. Yes, the stupid garbage people either passed me up or skipped my neighborhood altogether. Let me just tell you how angry I get when that happens. After I've struggled in the rain to get the damn thing out of the mud and up to the curb only using 2.5 fingers and some prodding with my foot, the thing's still full! Needlesstosay, Tuesday mornings aren't good mornings for the people at the answering end of their phone number after I call! Maybe I should start a trash "taker-outer" service for all single women out there that don't want to have to do this task anymore.

Do you ever get tired of being so good?

I'm the girl that tries to do the right thing. Even in my youth. The one that tries to be the responsible one. Tries to be the good girl. I'm the hardworker, the volunteer that helps others, the one you know you can count on. Dependable. Reliable. Usually makes smart decisions - safe decisions. Dates the responsible men (when I date that is). Works the reponsible job. Stable. Conservative. Modest. Friendly. Complacent. Peacekeeper. Avoids conflict. I attribute it to being the first born in my family. First borns typically have to grow up a bit faster to take care of our younger siblings. At least that's how I see it, anyway.

Sometimes though, I just want to be bad. I want to be irresponsible. I want to do what's right for me at the time instead of what's right for my future, or what other people tell me is right for me. I want to make dumb decisions and get away with it. I want to skip work and not call in or feel guilty about it. I want to be a waitress in the Florida Keys with a college degree and not care. I want to waste money in rent on an apartment in the city instead of make money by owning a house in the suburbs. I want to pick up and go somewhere without one piece of luggage or a whole lot of money and be confident in knowing that I'll make it work out. I want to date the fearless boy and not disapprove of his actions or be afraid to be just as fearless. I want to go on a $1000 shopping spree and love every article of clothing and every shoe that I bring home and not worry that that money was supposed to go to my bills instead. I want to cancel meetings and not turn in presentations...ever. I want to stand up to those that I shrink from. I want to stay up or out as long as I want to and not be worried that I won't be fresh for work. I want to be flighty and everyone just accept that that's just how I am.

Anyone else ever feel the same way? Anyone else want to join me?

Country Girl in the Suburbs

I have come to realize in the past 10 years or so that I am really a country girl at heart, at least half my heart anyway. Yes, I happen to have grown up in the suburbs, lived a surburban lifestyle, bought a house and work in the suburbs, but I really have a lot of country girl in me. I mean, I went to the University of Alabama for goodness sakes! Can I get a big Roll Tide!?

As much as I like to keep my professional decorum at work, and often in life in general, I have a bit of a redneck at my core. I know most wouldn't look at me and really believe me when I tell them about that side of me. I try to hang with the "city" crowd, but I just can't get into all of the boutiques and froo froo restaurants. I can go and put on the appearance that I belong to this crowd, but it's not a comfort level that I have, at all. I know my manners, how to dress, which fork to use, and how much to tip the valet, but I'd much rather have a good steak and bleu cheese on my salad rather than ostrich medallions and house viniagrette. I'd much rather hang out at a country bar, or even a hole in the wall blue jean bar with a beer and listening to country or blue grass or southern rock, then get all dressed to impress to go to a midtown or buckhead establishment with a cosmopolitan martini listening to techno. Afterall, you can't sing karaoke to techo - we all know country songs are best suited for that! I think I'd like to date a country song songwriter. Aren't those just some of the sweetest and sometimes most romantic songs? And isn't there just something about a good-lookin' guy in a cowboy hat? A sweet Southern drawl? Good, respectful manners? God-fearing, God-loving? Mmmhmmm.

I don't let the country girl out very often but when I listen to the country music station, she's there. Singing along to all the songs, even trying to get the distinct southern accent of the singer right, just wishing that's where I belonged. But the truth is, I don't fully belong in the country world either. As much as I like my blue jeans, they couldn't be my main article of clothing. I'll go fishing and enjoy it, but don't want to put the worm on the hook or take the fish off the line. I love deer, but don't want one hanging in my den. I guess I'm just somewhere in the middle. A product of a country boy from small town Jacksonville, Alabama and a city girl from big town Atlanta, Georgia. But can I get a Yee Haw, anyway!?

Random Ramble

Ok, so I don't really have that much to say tonight but feel like writing something. So I'll just write about the mundane. The everyday things that make up the moments of my life. I'll start with this weekend. Saturday I went out with 3 of my friends to shop for the things we'll need for the baby shower we're hosting this weekend. One of our stops was WalMart, where of course, we had 2 buggies - one for baby shower supplies, one for our stuff. I mean, come on, we're 4 girls at WalMart, do you really think one buggie would be enough? Anyway, I was very excited because they had Yellow Tail wine on sale for $6 a bottle. I bought 4, but only to use as decoration in my wine rack obviously. (Nevermind the fact that I've already opened and just about finished one of them this weekend. But, when I filled the wine rack, it didn't look "lived in" so I decided to take one bottle out for a more lived in look and didn't want that bottle to go to waste. It was a total sacrificial bottle of wine, bless it's heart.) Among my many purchases was some pink nail polish. You know how pink is such an "in" color, so I thought what the heck. Normally I'm a red nail polish girl, but I was feeling a bit sassy I guess. I painted my nails last night and I look like Barbie. Total Bonnie Bell or TinkerBell cosmetics pink when it's on. (girls, you know what I'm talking about) Oh well. Maybe it'll look good this summer after I get a tan, but right now when paired with skin even Casper would be ashamed of, it's not as attractive as I'd hoped. As a side note, I have to say that I think Swiss Formula Whipped Silk lotion is the best stuff around.
I went to Eckard yesterday because I wanted some Easter candy. Yes, that's all I went there for. I know that's bad, but does anyone else agree that Reese's Peanut Butter candy tastes better when shaped liked eggs, or hearts, or Christmas trees?
I went to the dentist this morning and funny enough, I have some cavities that need to be filled. I neglected to tell the dentist about the Easter candy yesterday and instead gave an award winning performance of utter astonishment at the news of cavities. Who me? What? Cavities? How strange, I can't imagine how that happened...(now where did I put that Cadbury egg?) I'm going back on the 28th to get fillings. Another morning off of work, maybe there's some sort of ulterior motive here.
Speaking of work, we received our "bonus" checks of sorts today. I have to say that I'm happy with what I got. I was thinking it was going to be about half of what I actually received. I'm going to by a storm door for my house and pay for my upcoming dental work. Gosh that sounds very old of me, doesn't it? Funny how priorities change over time. I still have my tax refund money recently deposited in my account to have fun with. If you call buying a new queen mattress fun. Oh what the heck, maybe I'll splurge $30 for a manicure and pedicure. Somebody stop me.
Anyone else have a $200 gas bill this month? Just taking a poll...
And finally, everyone, I'm still happy. I am happy! I spent this past year being desperately unhappy but I'm over it and now I'm honestly really happy! Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of our break up, and I really couldn't care less. In fact I totally forgot about it until I started writing this paragraph. How about that? That's huge. More importantly, that's the truth. :) I haven't felt this good in a very long time. I'm on the road to a full recovery from a broken spirit.

Settle

"Some people settle down. Some people settle. And some people won't settle for anything less than butterflies."
- Sex in the City

I know it's a cheesy place to snag a quote, but if you think about it's pretty profound. I fall into the not willing to settle for anything less than butterflies category myself.

Just wish the caterpillars would hurry it up in there.

Hard Things When You Live Alone

I really do enjoy living alone. I didn't think that I would, and I thought I'd get lonely, but I really don't. I like the down time. I like the fact that I can do what I want, when I want, and no one to answer to. Of course, this means that the laundry piles up to the point that it takes all night to do. And the bed doesn't get made. And the shoes sit by the front door for potentially a week. Who's going to complain but me? And I'm ok with it! But I have found that there are some things that are harder to do when you're a girl living alone. Here's just a few:

1) Killing a bug. I know most guys don't give this two thoughts, but this is difficult for some of us. You know the feeling when you spot it - some sort of ENORMOUS spider the size of a green pea, or some other weird thing with a million legs that runs fast - and the adrenaline rush that comes with it. It's like you've made eye contact, and you want to run as much as the bug does. But you can't. Because then you won't sleep. It might be in the bed. It might be in your hair. It might be in your shoe that you've left by the front door. You HAVE to find it and it must die. So a few deep breaths and a half a roll of toilet paper in hand, the quest begins. And shivers run down your spine along with a look of utter disgust when you feel it crush. But what a sense of satisfaction when you see it go round and down with a flush. It's not in your bed, it's not in your hair, and it didn't crawl in your shoe. Crisis overted, but wouldn't it have been better if someone else were around to do it?

2) Jewelry, in particular, necklaces and bracelets. Again, this one's for the girls. Trying to put on a necklace or bracelet by yourself at times can be downright impossible. I wanted to wear a cute new bracelet that I got for my birthday this morning, but couldn't get the darn thing on! I tried and tried for about 5 straight minutes or so, but couldn't get the angle of my wrist, the clasp, and the moon and tide to align just right to clip it on. I guess this bracelet will only be worn when I have company over because that's the only time I'll get help.

3) Changing the sheets on the bed. Anyone living alone can relate to this. You know, it only takes about a hundred trips back and forth around the bed to do this seemingly simple task. SO much easier with help from someone else.

4) While we're somewhat on the subject, cleaning the house goes much faster with help from someone else, too! It's taken me all freakin' night to clean my tiny house and I'm still not done!

5) A hug. A hug is hard to do or to get when you live by yourself. My dog does a good job trying, and I'll take what I can get, but sometimes you just need a hug and that's much easier to come by when there's someone else in the house.

Tis' the Season

I found out today that my ex-boyfriend (you know, the one that's taken me just about a full year to finally get over) is getting married this summer. What? We haven't even been broken up a full year just yet - albeit one week away from being a year - but not a full year yet! So, dating me, leading me on, lying to me, and supposedly being "in love" with me for almost 2 years didn't lead to marriage, yet he can meet someone else, fall in love, and ask to marry her in less than a year?! Shouldn't there be some sort of ethical law against it - kind of like a mourning period - where if your relationship lasted more than a year, that you aren't allowed to ask someone else to marry you unless you've been broken up with your ex for at least a year? Come on! I mean, I don't want it to sound like I wish it were me, because for the first time in 11 months, I can truly honestly say that I'm glad that it's not me. And I'm glad that he's found someone to marry because the Lord knows that's not an easy thing to do. I guess I just feel somehow disrepected in a weird sort of way.

The Writing on the Wall

Me and some friends go out to a local bar in town last night and my good friend asks me to go to the bathroom with her (you know, the girls' trip to the bathroom). She's had a few drinks and while she's in the stall, proceeds to read me the, what she's dubbed, "Bathroom Poetry," from inside! It was hilarious! Who knew that hearing about someone's "cherry," or that "Will Rocks 4-21-04", would be so funny! Maybe we should rent an RV and go across country, jotting down this "Bathroom Poetry" and location where we found it to compile a bathroom reading material book for Barnes and Noble to sell for us!? Sabs, I think we're onto something! Let's quit our jobs and go RVing!

Bountiful Birthday and Fabulous Friends

From early birthday cupcakes, to surprise flowers, dinner, a cool band at a cool bar, candles, office decorations, cards, jewelry box, picture frame, books, bracelets, and yes, how could I forget the penis pinata, thank you to all of my fabulous friends for thinking of me on my birthday. You are all special people and are blessings in my life. Much love! I truly enjoyed it and am extremely grateful.

Car Karaoke

Am I the only one that enjoys seeing other people singing in their cars and tries to find a radio station with a song playing that matches their singing? I get disappointed when I realize it's a CD and can't match it up with the radio anywhere! Ahh, the joys of living in a busy city with a ton of traffic to sit in. How can nine, yes nine, lanes of highway with a speed limit of 65mph have cars bumper to bumper only doing 5mph? How does that work? And then, poof! All of the sudden, we're back up to the speed limit with no indication of why the hell we weren't moving in the first place! Thus, the creation of my car karaoke game. When others see me jamming to a song, I invite you to see if you can find what I'm singing, too. You'll get a rush when you find what matches up. Or maybe it's just me.

The Countdown

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 I'm 28.

What's Your Score?

So There I Was, The Blond Bombshell of The Entire Trailer Park!

Previously I had said that I had some stories from events that happened this week. Very long story short, I found myself at a baby shower held at the community center of a trailer park in northeast Georgia (the happy couple just got married in November and she's due end of March - you do the math. Oh, and yes, they both now know each other's eye color, thanks for asking). Try not to be jealous, we can't all be invited to events like these. Some people get to go to the Oscars, I was blessed with this invitation. At any rate, I went to this thing with my mom and sister, however, my dad dropped us off because he didn't want our car to be broken into while we were inside. Inside the trailer park community center (essentially a double wide on some bricks) was everything you could have hoped for and more. Let me start off with saying that I was the thinnest girl there by about 200 pounds, and I'm no string bean. Talk about a boost to the 'ol self-confidence! Secondly, you would have thought that I had dressed for the Oscars because my tan slacks and black sweater were WAY overdressed compared to the John Deere tractor t shirts and sweatpants. And I had a sneaky suspicion that something was missing from my outfit and then I figured it out...oh yeah, a baby attached to my hip! Every one of these women, either 16 or 45, had a baby attached at the hip like it was the latest accessory. Then we proceeded to play the typical ridiculously cheesy baby shower games that everyone hates, yet everyone is subjected to. Including, and this one was a new one for me, one called "Sniff the Diaper." With this game, they proceeded to pass around 3 diapers with a melted chocolate candy bar inside and we were instructed to sniff the diaper, look inside, and guess what kind of candy bar it was. One was even a snickers bar and I'll leave the peanut visual up to you. Ewww! As the fun was wrapping up, and oh, how much fun we surely did have, the men that belong to these women started to show up to pick them up (there's only one car per household apparently, or maybe they too, did not want their cars broken into). One man, Cletis, who apparently was lovingly nicknamed Bubba because that's MUCH better than Cletis, bent over to pick up one of his kids and I saw a whole lot more of Cletis, or Bubba, than I EVER EVER wanted to see. Then I got to hear a story from the mother to be about some of the parties at the trailer park and found out that drunk men peeing on couches is somewhat of a rampant problem. Now, don't get me wrong, I've been to a good many wild and crazy parties at the University of Alabama (hey, we weren't voted one of the top 10 party schools by Playboy for nothing), but I can honestly say that I've never either been or heard about a party where there was a peeing on the couch problem. Couches in the pool? Yes. Couches thrown out the 2nd floor window? Yes. Couches hoisted up on shoulders for a "Roman Style" ride around the party? Yes. Peeing on the couch? NO. The best part about it was getting to hear the trailer park soap opera of a girl named Mandy. Mandy is married, yet living with another man, and even better still, has recently given birth to a new baby boy that is neither her husband's nor live in boyfriend's child. Well, I guess she needed a new accessory for the shower. Now, how in the world these women get 1 man to chase after them, let alone 3, is a mystery locked up never to be known. Oh, and to top it off, have you ever had the choice of hot or mild chicken wings at a baby shower? I guess the long and short of it is, if you ever need an instant boost to your self-esteem, give me a call and I'll give you directions. Whatever you're dealing with in your life couldn't possibly beat a community with a severe weight, plumber's crack, poop-smelling, couch peeing, problem. Best of luck to the second generation currently being popped out. I wonder if blond, brown, or red hair will be "in" next year. Whichever, they better get busy because we're aleady in March and it'll take 9 months to get next year's hip addition.

Forget the Memories...

Thaaaaanks for the cupcakes!! I thank you, so much! (to the tune of Thanks for the Memories). My friend Sabrina came over tonight to watch the Bachelorette finale (can you believe Jen didn't say yes to Jerry? Wish I had his number, you know, to console him!) and brought some "birthday week" cupcakes that were delicious! Much needed fun with a much appreciated friend!