Thursday, December 30, 2010

Happy Birthdizzy to Merdizzy's Mamadizzy (now who's dizzy)

My mother celebrated another fabulous year on Dec. 28. In honor of her birthdizzy, I'm sharing some of her daily wisdom. I know, I know. My birthdizzy list of facoids about myself was amazing but I can't do that for my mama. While her awesomeness far exceeds her years, no one is going to read a list of 50+ facts (sorry mom, but everyone knows you're over 50 by this point).

1. Always take a sweater. Even if it is 900 degrees and you feel hotter than Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery furnace, you better have a sweater. Because you WILL be cold.

2. Speaking of getting cold, you should probably always have a pair of socks in your purse. Your feet will be freezing and who really cares if you look like Michael Jackson with your black shoes and white socks? Michael may not have done much right (remember, this is my mama talking, not me because we all know I love him), but you can bet his feet were never freezing. (side note: this was all well and good until someone at work asked for some gum and while searching for it in my purse out fell a pair of stockings. who wants gum that's been entangled with someone's stocking feet?)

3. If your name is Meredith, or if you have the names Lee or Eli, then you should plan to eat rougly 8-12 meals a day. My children need to eat often to keep up the good moods. When you were little, you would all have to eat a snack before breakfast and a snack before dinner. When I say snack, I really mean eat a bowl of cereal. or two.

4. Go to bed early. This staying up late watching scary shows is ridiculous and you are in a bad mood when you don't get a lot of sleep. babies sleep a lot for a reason and you should too. But that doesn't mean don't go to work. Because the only thing worse than a tired, hungry baby is a tired, hungry, unemployed baby that your father and I have to continue to support.

5. Always, always remember that your mother knows best. If it weren't true, I wouldn't keep reminding you.

6. Additionally, always remember that magnet you bought for me before you realized how right it was: mirror mirror on the wall, i'm like my mother after all.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Yawn

(sidenote: I just shared this at work to my cube mates...why, I do not know.)

When I was in 7th grade, I did a column in the newspaper called "Dear Gertrude." It was an Ann Landers type column but being that we were in 7th grade, the questions were somewhat sophomoric. Believe it or not, so were my answers.

My fave question?

"Dear Gertrude: How can I tell if this boy likes me back?"

My answer?

"Dear ____ (my memory does not ring its bell): Yawn in his direction. If he yawns back, he likes you."

Poor middle school teachers. They were probably wondering why all these girls were walking around so tired and yawny.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

are my eyes deceiving me?

or does this mug shot member's head tat match the City of Charlotte logo?

just curious.

hey, it's OK!

to send out a Christmas card with a picture of your supercute, smiling, Absolutely, you can be that girl. Own it.

looks like i'm completely normal after all.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

well, pin a rose on your nose

I've had several Christmas packages sent to my parents' house so I don't have to check bags on the plane. Today, I have this convo with my mom:

Me: mom, have any boxes been delivered?
Mom: no i don't think so. i don't see any.
Me: well Chukar Cherries show it being delivered on the track shipment.
Mom: well it's not here. Where did it get delivered?
Me: I don't know. It says it was delivered at 8:56a on Monday.
mom: ya know, I saw a FedEx sticker in my driveway yesterday. or maybe Monday. but i didn't know what it was for.
Me: are you serious right now? You know I'm having boxes delivered and you haven't been on the lookout? It's been TWO days mom.
Mom: well i couldn't read it. i don't even know where it is. I'll have to find it.
Me: fine. bye.

so i call FedEx and they say it was delivered to their address. So I call mom back and we have THIS convo.

me: the package was delivered to your house.
mom: yes it's here.
me: where was it?
mom: i dont know. i don't even know where it came from. but it's upstairs.
me: mom. why do you not know? why weren't you keeping an eye out? you have to be on the lookout for one on friday too.
mom: ok. well. pin a rose on your nose.
me: i'm so glad you're not a postal worker. you would really be terrible. are you sure the package is there?
mom: yes meredith. i told you it was here.

humpf. pin a rose on your nose.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

A Guide To Eating.

This morning I decided I have had it with the Chick. I decided to break my diet rules and get a biscuit. I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and just knew a fresh chick biscuit would put my mind in the right frame. Wrong. Because of a previous experience at the Chick, I always check my biscuit before pulling out the window way. And like too many other mornings, I had to return my biscuit because it had been in the fryer too long. Now, I pay $4.99 at Ellen’s for grits, bacon, two eggs and a biscuit and nothing is ever bad. Yet I pay $4.01 at the Chick for a too fried chicken cutlet and a diet lemonade. This causes heartburn for me. The workers always act like I am the one with the problem when I say “I don’t like the way this chicken looks. It looks like it’s been sitting in the fryer too long.” I’m pretty sure they have a sign that says something about give a weird look to the girl in the red Volvo who sounds like a broken record. My beef (or chicken?) is that if they would just stop frying too long, then I could change my tune. And the weird looks like I’m an alien with antennas growing out my head could cease. At any rate, this morning I suppose the worker could tell I had very hurt feelings because she promptly went to the back, yelled “she needs a biscuit that hasn’t been fried too long” and returned to me one giant, perfectly golden chicken cutlet on soft, buttery biscuit. The perfection of this biscuit could indicate extra jolliness for the season. Or it could be an indicator that they are afraid of the Deeze. Either way, I enjoyed my biscuit.

But, this experience got me thinking. I am a fast food connoisseur. I have had a love affair with practically every fast food restaurant known to man. And like all of the great loves of my life, I have kept a list of the pros and cons of each. and i feel you deserve to hear it.

Burger King: the nuggets are tasty but the bathroom floors are always sticky.
Poppeyes: Typically in the ghetto and the biscuits really aren’t that great. I don't care what anyone says.
Arby’s: while it is a pirate’s favorite restaurant, I once found a hair in my pre-packaged food. If you go here, you should probably stick to the roast beef sandwich with Arby’s sauce and the curly fries. They are delicious. But remember, I did find a hair in my pre-packaged food there once.
Chick Fil A – Christian or not, their prices are jacked and they like to fry chicken in old oil too long. It is important to note however that if the chicken hasn’t been in the fryer too long, then it is the best biscuit you can find.
McDonalds – absolutely nothing bad to say (unless they tell me their milkshake machine is broken and I have to get in a verbal altercation with the worker and tell them that in fact, their machine is not broken. They just don’t want to clean it.). I read an article yesterday that they are putting $5 billion into upfitting their restaurants (what bad economy?) It may or may not be my dream to own a McDonald’s franchise.
Taco Bell – many call it Taco Hell but I call it Taco Fabulous. Nothing makes Mountain Dew taste better than a taco from the Taco Fabulous.
KFC – the mac and cheese could use some work but those mashed potatoes are amazing. And delicious.
Bojangles – I’m pretty sure they put prune juice in their sweet tea (not a problem) and their fries are nothing short of delicious. But you must be wary. The Bo is only good in certain places. Florida doesn’t count.
Wendy’s: I won’t eat much from here but a baked potato with two butters, two sour creams, chives and a side of mini frosty really hits the spot.
In-N-Out Burger: good thing we don’t have them here on the East Coast because I would hit that more than Paris Hilton does drugs. There is a reason why she just had to have an In-N-Out here people.
Hardees – the American dream when it comes to fast food burgers. They beat McDonalds any day but it’s a completely different taste so you really can’t compare them.
Sonic - delicious cheese conies and tots. holy crap they are so good.

as a side note, did you know the formal definition of a connoisseur is "a person who is especially competent to pass critical judgments..." yep. that about sums me up.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Only Winners Can Waltz (and I am a Winner)

Over the summer, I purchased a deal whereby I received a 6 month membership to a local dance studio. Additionally, I also received 10 lessons. This was all well and good until I looked at the print out of the coupon and realized I had to use them by 12/31. And it was 12/9 when I realized this. So you can bet I got busy looking at their schedule and planning which classes I would attend. I selected (mainly because I only have three weeks with a holiday thrown in) the following: waltz, salsa, bachata, tango, merengue and east coase swing. Coupled with the fact that I am already an experience shagger, and I have latin dancing in my past (next time you see daddy stooge, ask him about his best friend Guntar who didn't kick him out of latin dance class for being an exceptionally bad dancer...hey, at least I come by it honestly), I just assumed I'd be a professional at all these dances I have no prior experience with. However, after only one class, I realized how wrong I was.

I arrived last night with day dreams of a smokin' hot dancing man who would swivel his hips at me and be wearing a just unbuttoned enough blouse for me to get a sneak peak at his bulging pectorals. Let's just say his hips didn't quite swivel (however, I am pretty sure if they did swivel, it would be in my direction so that's a plus) and although his shirt was unbuttoned just right, his pectorals weren't bulging to the degree I prefer. But, this is all a non-issue because I was there to learn, NOT pick up sexay dancing men with swiveling hips. Which was good news since the man I somehow ended up dancing with the most was not attractive, had tinier hips than me, and also had smaller feet than me (this is important to note). He walked into the studio like he owned the place. He told us he was new to the area and couldn't wait to start dancing again. He was very concerned about the level of teaching as he had a bronze medal (I know because he told us several times) in the Waltz. Now, I don't know really what a bronze medal in the Waltz means, but I'm pretty sure since the word beginner is included in the name of this class, it wasn't for anyone who had ever come close to winning a medal or badge of any type in the Waltz. The good news is, he got what he bargained for, and deserved, when he kept getting paired up with me.

Because I am secretly a princess, waltzing should come naturally to me. It doesn't. We learned the basic box step, and the left turn box step, and the right turn box step and something else but I can't remember because I was still trying to get my box right. I have never in my life so often stumbled over my two left feet, or even thought that I had two left feet for that matter. Because he was a pro, he wanted to be helpful and give me tips to better my waltz. I typically like a helper, but not this kind of helper. It was actually pretty amusing to me that everytime he gave me a helpful hint, it would result in me stepping on his tiny feet. My tennis shoes are pretty small and they dwarfed his already tiny dancing shoes. It's probably good to note that in addition to being all around tiny, he was also very tan (to match his medal, perhaps?) and reeked of stale ciggarettes. He was from Panama City which pretty much explains it all. Like Daytona, but better.

At the end, the teacher asked me to dance so I could practice my moves. I told him I'd had enough boxing and was ready to be twirled. He reminded me that yes, the Waltz is the Disney princess dance but if those cartoons had been real women, they too would have had to learn to Waltz the good old fashioned way. And then, all of my dancing dreams came true when he decided I had had enough practice and...drum roll please...HE TWIRLED ME!! And I felt exactly like Beauty and the Beast. It was exhilirating! I loved it! It was like my very own Dancing With the Stars and I was Bristol and he was Max and even Bruno thought we were a perfect 10. And then, just like that, our dance was over. And I fell in a heap to the ground, exhausted. Even now, it is true the Waltz is just a box step but holy crap. It's like a box covered in packing tape that you just cannot get open for the life of you. This dude, back in the 1700's described the ladies of Vienna as graceful in their Waltzing. Perhaps I need to go to Vienna and wear a corset. Because I'm pretty sure I wasn't graceful.

They say it takes two to tango. But it takes a winner to waltz. Booyah. Take that, England. oh but takes two to tango you say? ooo lah lah. i'll take two swiveling hips, please.

Monday, December 13, 2010

enough. to make me.

get over my bieber fever and move on with my life.

zac efron and vanessa hudgens split.

not to be forgotten

In the midst of my Christmas Card excitement, I forgot to tell you about my all time favorite Christmas tradition. No, it is not decorating the tree. Or going to McAdenville to see the lights. or reading about Jesus' birth by the fire. Or watching 24 Hours of A Christmas Story (though that one is a fast second). No, it is the reading of one of the greatest Christmas stories of all time. The Night Before Christmas. ghetto style. so, here it is. for your viewing/reading/ab workout from laughing so hard pleasure.

'Twas da night befo' Christmas & all in the hood,
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good;
The tube socks was hung on the window sill
And we all had smiles up on our grill.

Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib -
In the back bedroom, cuz that's how we live.
And Mom’s in her do-rag and me with my nine,
Had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine.

All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by,
Bumpin' phat beats cuz the system's fly;
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas' '
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's ass!

Well anyway.... I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, “Stop frontin' & just mind yo' bidness.”
I said, for real doe, “come check dis out,”
We weren't even buggin', no worries, no doubt.

Cuz bumpin' an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh;
Da beats was kickin', da ride was phat,
I said, "Yo red Dawg, you all that!"

He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!"
To the top of the projects & across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"

He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof,
And sippin' on a 40, he busted a move;
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
He said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!”

“But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz -
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings
A credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.

He slid down the fire escape smoove as a cat,
And busted the window wit' a b-ball bat.
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whyd’ya bust my place?"
He said, "You best get on up out my face!"

His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold,
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old;
He dropped down the duffle, Bull’s logo on the side.
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.

A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof,
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof;
He jumped in his hooptie wit' rims made of chrome,
To tap that big booty waitin' at home.

And all I heard as he cruised outta sight,
Was a loud and hearty..... "WEEESST SIIIIDE!!!!!!!"

Instant Good Cheer

This past weekend, during one of my “I have no facebook and have all this time on my hands” realizations, I picked up a dirty mag at the store. I figured I might as well be using this no facebook AND no boyfriend time wisely (let’s be honest. They rarely occur simultaneously). By reading completely inappropes magazines that make me blush. One of the random factoids included in the magazine was that the smell of toast will instantly make you feel better. Wait, now that I’m writing this, maybe it’s bacon. At any rate, either bacon OR toast has been scientifically proven to instantly put you in a better mood. Which is weird to me for several reasons. Mainly because I can think of 7,000 things that would probably put me in an instant good mood before bacon or toast. Per usual, I've taken the liberty to share the Top 10 with you below.

But first, it's important to note that I am usually always in a good mood. My disposition is never far from sunny. My class ring from college is a black onyx and it’s actually become hilarious how many times people have mistaken it for a mood ring. I mean, how could it be black if I’m always jolly? And besides, who even wears a mood ring anymore?

1. Pete. Pete will make anyone’s day 9x brighter and cheerful. Especially when he follows you into the bathroom and watches you undress. Who doesn’t want a handsome Peteing Tom to oogle them while nekkid?

2. A pastry. I brought a cute boy a giant ├ęclair from a local bakery one morning. He told me if I kept feeding him this way, he wasn’t going to live to see 85. I told him when he was 85, he would look back on his life and wish he had enjoyed pastry treats more often in his life. I believe in dessert. And I believe in enjoying it any time you see fit.

3. A daily dose of It’s blocked at my office, but I’m looking into the availability of an iphone app (man I feel cool saying I have an iphone).

4. A shimmy. If something makes me happy, I shimmy. If I don’t have a reason to shimmy, I shimmy anyway.

5. Pirate Jokes. These are guaranteed to put even the meanest of souls in a better mood. Instantly.

6. Justin Bieber. This morning, a dear friend sent me an interactive Christmas greeting, complete with a portrait of Justin Bieber halfway through the message. Instant good mood accomplished. True story.

7. A lifetime movie. Seriously. Feeling badly about your life? Watch one of these bad boys and you’ll feel better about yours. Instantly.

8. A feather boa. I’m not sure why but I really like them. Much like jingle bells, they are hard to resist.

9. Surprise leftovers from a meeting down the hall. Since I’m usually in a bad mood because I’m hungry, leftovers instantly bring up the morale of the entire department.

10. An email from my boss that says “hey, why don’t you take the rest of the week off?” I mean, this has never happened but I’m pretty sure it would make my mood even greater.
thought for the day.

my horoscope lied to me. it told me I was going to have a romantic weekend. I did not.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Christmas For Deeze

There are several things I consider necessities before my Christmas festivities can begin. These things go beyond my jingle bell necklaces, my UNC santa hat and my natural good cheer. These are things that are important and I feel would allow for any one of you to have an even more exceptional Christmas season.

a. Mistletoe. Who doesn’t love mistletoe?! It’s romantic in every form. Did you know the name Mistletoe was originally applied to a poisonous plant that causes gastrointestinal problems including stomach pain and diarrhea…but, you should not have fear because Mistletoe is seen as a representation of “divine male essence” (ie romance and fertility), thereby making it a necessity for all Christmas miracles. I really was speaking the truth when I hollered the other day at work that it really is a man’s world after all (and a small world at that but I won’t say anymore because this conversation could quickly get out of hand). Next time I’m standing under the mistletoe, when my Christmas miracle goes in for the kiss, I will be sure to say no thank you sir and warn him of the serious implications mistletoe could cause to his body, and mine.

b. Victorian Christmas Angels. I have a couple of these sweet treasures. I found them at a local discount shop a few years back and purchased one for me and one for mom. I was so excited to give my mom her Victorian Christmas Angel and all of my Christmas dreams were crushed when she said “that is ugly.” Since I don’t believe that Christmas has to be just the season of giving, I took it back. Christmas is the season of giving and taking, Indian style if need be. I now have two Victorian Christmas Angels that I set out every year. And I love them. They are delicate and satiny and have tiny hands and feet, just like me! And yes, they are ugly. But like a good mother, I love them anyway. Ugly or not.

c. Christmas Frog. Speaking of ugly…I know all you haters find my Christmas frog atrocious. My brother and I had a big ole fight the minute he found out I was storing this beauty in a box at his house (background is that when I moved back in with my parents, he stored a lot of things on my behalf at his house, including my Christmas Frog). I first laid eyes upon her the same time I discovered my Victorian Christmas Angels. I had to have her. I mean, I completely fell in love with her glass head, her velvet cloak. She is a bit wounded with a crack in her right brow, but she has a nice home now and frankly, it’s not Christmas to me without my Christmas frog. She is always the first decoration I put up, and the last I take down. She stands watch over my snow babies throughout the Christmas holiday. Pete hates her. Everyone hates her. But as Jason Mraz says, there is beauty in the ugly.

d. Lights. Lots and lots of tacky, tacky lights. Preferably colorful lights. Not for me, but for you. These are imperative to my Christmas season because what kind of person would I be if I didn’t drive around and laugh and poke fun at all the Christmas lights strewn about yards and houses. The only thing better than tacky Christmas lights is when they are accompanied by inflatable snow globes and Santa’s Elves. Secretly, my kid sister LOVES these things but thank the good Lord my parents refuse. She does have a Christmas train she likes to put out but this year it was a no go. I will pose this question about the train to you: what makes a Christmas train different from a regular train? Answer: lots and lots of tacky, colored lights. I know, I know. colored lights cajole memories from Christmases past for many. And while that is sweet and all, and I appreciate your memories, nothing says Christmas to me more than the Griswolds.

e. An awesome Christmas sweater. I have only been into seasonal sweaters for about 3 years now but man, I don’t know how I survived my Christmases past without one! These bad boys go for good money on the internet and I can see why. This one, that I call The Winner (for the many awards it has won) comes complete with a Christmas chicken, tassels and a fuzzy gold jingle bell. Don’t be mistaken – while The Winner appears to be cozy and smart, it is in fact, not a good idea to wear often. The fuzzy jingle bell causes a lot of pain as you take the sweater off over your head. It leaves behind remnants of itself in the form of a gash down your forehead for all the world to see. Over the years, I’ve become more accustomed to the weird stares and responses I get when I tell people why I have such an unsightly gash upon my head. This year I have a dilemma though. I have a new Christmas sweater that lights up. The Winner may need to rest its weary bell because my light up sweater is aching to be plugged in! (and yes, that is what she said).

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

The Girl With The Cat

I've got lots of things to tell you about, but in the meantime, I'm supplying you all with a story from my other blog.The Toolshed is a blog about my dating life and while it is not true to time, the stories are real and sadly, they are never ending. You should SEE my post it note on dbags I still need to blog about. (ie if you and I have been on a date, and you behaved badly in any way, shape or form, there is a good chance you are on here. But dates are not accurate and no names are mentioned) At any rate, enjoy this little diddy.

Monday, October 18, 2010

you will pay for your own drink specials.
I know I’ve got a lot of ‘splainin to do about my absence…but spare me the harpin’. I have a long list of less than men to tell you about, but Friday’s experience may take the cake in the world of dbags. Wait, I’ve said that before. so, if I’m being honest, and I am, this one doesn’t really take the cake but it is DEFINITELY a slice out of the old tool shed. Where they stop, no one knows.

I had been introduced to this kid whom I affectionately dubbed Drink Specials. This is a name he brought on himself because the first two attempts he made to hang out with me included meeting up at particular places “with great drink specials.” Friday night, I agreed to meet him out at Mellow Mushroom. He suggested dinner and though I don’t love Mellow, since he had been persistent, and was cute, I decided to go. Only, I probably should have decided not to go. We’re having dinner and he asks to be reminded of where I work. I tell him and he asks “oh, do you know Sara blah blah blah.” “well,” I reply, “I don’t know her but I know of her. I dated her ex.” He says “ohhhh you dated him??? Well, we grew up together and my roommate dated her.” So, I realize what a fantastic night this is going to be since if he grew up with her, and she dated his roommate, then they’re probably as crazy as her reputation makes her out to be. Approximately 20 minutes after we sit down FOR THE DINNER HE INVITED ME TO, his friends show up. Yes, 4 or 5 of them at this point show up, come say hey, we didn’t know you’d be here and then leave to go to the bar…while telling me he is so sorry, he didn’t know they would be there (right), they start sending shots over. After shot 2, but before 3 and 4 arrived, I confessed I wasn’t going to be able to do anymore shots. I mean, it was only 9p and these guys were apparently going balls to the wall at the Mellow Mushroom. About this time, I start feeling semi badly – granted, I had only had to eat that day 1 large mashed potato and gravy, 1 large mac and cheese and 1 biscuit from the KFC, two glasses of wine, 1 pizza from the Mushroom and 2 shots. It’s no wonder I felt like 1 million bucks. The waitress comes and I blame her for what happens next. She asks, as most waitresses do but should not, how did we want the ticket. Clearly the tightwad, Drink Specials tells her she can put it on one ticket and WE WILL SPLIT IT! um, excuse me? if I am paying for my own dinner, I don’t want to do it at the Mellow Mushroom! I don’t even love that place! After dinner, we move over to the bar to hang out with his homies who are clearly WAITING on us to come. I tell him his friends all look familiar and then I realize why. At the epicenter of his friend group was my across the hall neighbor. The same neighbor who had an uber white trashy fight with his live in girlfriend at 6a that resulted in her moving out ON THE SPOT and the entire building be awakened. The same neighbor who hosts porch parties every weekend that begin at sun up and end well after sun down. Every single one of these guys has been on the porch on more than one occasion and every single one of them has spoken to me through the screen (I oft times sit on my porch and talk to my cat whilst in my pajamas and glasses). After a funny hey this is awkward, I didn’t know you ever left the porch convo in which all the guys said to me at different times “hey, you’re the girl with the cat!”, I had to race to the bathroom where I spent the next 35 minutes hating my own guts. I received two txts from Drink Specials asking where I was. I returned, everyone was wasted, and I knew it was time for me to go home. At 11 o’clock, I left the Mellow Mushroom. All I could think about was how excited I was to be putting on my pajamas and hanging out with my cat. I was exactly the girl they thought me to be. And that is a-ok with me. And Drink Specials? Well, let’s just say he’s back in the shed, right where he belongs.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Have Yourself a Merdeezy Little Christmas

Some of these bad boys are going out in the mail today (not blurry versions of course). Per my previous post, I decided that just because I haven't had anything like a wedding or a baby happen in the past year doesn't mean I can't send out some Christmas cheer. So, here you have it. A selection of some of my best portraiture from the past year. oh, and it's signed by Republican Pete so it's definitely fridge material.

Something Old, Something New

Every wedding season you hear it: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Well, do I have JUST the find for you!

A designer wedding dress and a custom made veil.
Just in case you miss it during the auction, here are some pics. Too bad this isn't art class. i'd prob get an A. Or English class as I find the description first-rate.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

A Glimpse At the Deezy Fam

Contemporary Red Christmas Card
Make a statement with Shutterfly Christmas photo cards.
View the entire collection of cards.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Life Lessons for the Boob Tube

Tomorrow in my mailbox will arrive my latest Netflix. It is a movie I was never allowed to see, and if I'm being honest, I know good and well I wouldn't be allowed to see even now if I were still living with my old roommates. I can barely contain my excitement that with the arrival of this movie, surely I will finally become a real adult (since only adults are allowed to watch these types of movies). My life will never be the same once I watch Indecent Proposal. I have to admit, I feel quite scandalous knowing this movie is what I will be watching tomorrow (and I bet there won't be anything for me to make fun of, what with it being from 1993 and all). My mom says she doesn't remember forbidding me from watching it, but it is rated R for sexuality and language, so it's no wonder it was forbidden fruit. So at 28, I am finally becoming real.

There were other nuggets of forbidden fruit on the tv. So many in fact it's a wonder we had a tube at all. Granted, we never really had cable - my roommates always felt like if we were bored, we'd be better suited to read a book. But when we were allowed to watch tv (and this never happened without first having to run around the house 3 or 4 times), we certainly weren't allowed to watch what the other kids were watching.

Take Full House for instance. Danny Tanner had nothing on my mama's parenting skills. I'm actually surprised the reason we weren't allowed to watch it had nothing to do with the fact that it was a little strange that Uncle Joey and Uncle Jesse had absolutely no problem living with a single dad and his 3 daughters (and let's not forget weirdo Kimmy Gibbler next door who never seemed to have parents at all). Nope. The reason we weren't allowed to watch this family show is because all three of the daughters were "extremely sassy." My mom didn't want us growing up thinking that was an acceptable way to be. Sooo, while I understand the intent, guess who doesn't have three sassy children. It's definitely not my mom so you probably shouldn't waste your guess on her.

Another show that was forbidden was Hey Dude on Nickelodeon. That is, when we actually had Nickelodeon. If you remember, this was a show about a group of people who lived on a dude ranch, one of them being Ben Stiller's future wife, Marsha Marsha Marsha. Wait, now that I think about it, it was sort of like a commune so maybe that's why we weren't allowed to watch it. Everyone knows people who live in communes are weird with a capital w. (but that kid Ted on the show? no way he was weird. he was too smokin' hot to be weird). Everyone at this dude ranch was really smart, so smart that they knew more than any of the adults who ran the dude ranch. And because of this, we weren't allowed to watch it. Another factoid everyone knows is that no way do kids know more than their parents. Good thing mom didn't let us watch Hey Dude. Otherwise we three might be even more convinced we know more than our parents. The only thing that would make it worse would be if we all lived on a commune. A bunch of know it alls packed into a commune. Yeah, this was a good choice to be forbidden fruit, I'd say.

I have never seen an episode of The Simpsons. Whenever I try to watch That 70's Show while at my roommates' house, one roommate in particular will come into the room and if she can't find the remote to turn it off, she will stand in front of it and talk to you so you have no idea what is happening. Only, the last time I told her I couldn't see what was happening, she told me "they're sitting in a circle, smoking pot and making fun of their parents. You don't need to watch it. That isn't a good way to be." I'm just trying to figure out how she knows what they are doing every single time it comes on tv.

Sometimes, a show won't be forbidden, but you're guaranteed to get some Life Lessons while watching it, so it would probably be better if it were just on the forbidden list. The life lessons usually pertain to sex and that can just get weird depending on who is in the room with you when your parents start doling out sex life lessons all because of some rando show that happens to be on the tube. Basically, I don't recommend watching Jerry Springer. Ever. Why it was never on the forbidden fruit list, we'll never know. Probably because it was the perfect opportunity for my roommates to give us life lessons. So, on that note, I hope my mom isn't reading this. Otherwise she'll know I'm watching Indecent Proposal tomorrow night. And if there is one thing I know at age 28, is that I am never too far away for life lessons for the boob tube.