Monday, February 28, 2011

People of Wal Mart - True Story

It concerns me that my mom sent me an email of recent people from Wal Mart. and that I realized I had a matching hat as one of them.

i'm a nervous squirrel about my future.

so this is how a bird with broken wings feels.

See those stairs? I would like for you to count them. And imagine all the things that could happen to one on those stairs.

So, I googled "cracked butt bone" and came across several videos entitled "how to crack your tail bone!" I really don't think I'll be watching them though because learning how to crack my rear isn't what I'm after right now. I already know how to crack it. (also, it concerns me people have put an exclamation point in the title of their videos. Exclamation points imply fun and take it from me: cracking your butt is NOT fun). And because I went to medical school and like to diagnose anyone and everyone, especially myself, I did what all good docs do: I looked up on "how do you know if your tail bone is cracked." Here is what I learned: If I have shooting pain in my rear, I should see a doctor. My tail bone is not flexible. I may have cancer. It could cause my lower extremeties to go numb. I could experience sexual dysfunction. I should soak in epsom salt. My tail bone is named my coccyx.

Now, first off, I may have to add the word coccyx to the list of words I don't like to say and do not say. It just sounds...inappropriate. And, while I appreciate's diagnosis that I am basically about to die and will never be able to enjoy life as I knew it again, I just don't feel like it is that simple. You see, Friday morning I had on my favorite pair of red patent leather high heels. Hooker heels if you will(and yes, I have learned my lesson that I should not dress like a hooker so early in the morning). I put one foot in and the next thing I knew, I had skipped the hokey pokey and was lying in a heap on the ground. My right foot rode down the stairs beneath me so the top of my foot was sitting between my coccyx and the stairs. My left foot was turned on it's side behind me. I was pretty much doing a one legged knee/split as I rode down the stairs to my untimely demise. Somewhere between steps 1 and 10, my legs came out from under me, though I'm not sure where they went, and I landed on the cement on my coccyx, atop the pine cones you see lying there. The wind was knocked out of me. One hooker heel remained in tact on my foot, the other was dangling by a big toe. So I did what anyone in this position would do: I stood up and ran to my car before I started crying. I limped around for a full day and even got out of work early to go home and lay. It's been three days and while my feet are no longer bruised and battered, my coccyx is still very, very sore. I can only sit on one cheek at a time. I cannot get into or out of a car without a yelp. I think I need a wheelchair. I do however think I am more flexible because of the unique way my body flexed and stretched on its early morning Friday ride of terror. Since not only am I deaf in one ear but now I can add sexual dysfunction to my list of disorders, I might as well go home, climb up the trail of tears and soak in a tub full of epsom salt.

EHOW.COM, you are stupid.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Fringe Friends.

Almost two years ago, I lost my friend Drew to Cystic Fibrosis. Drew and I weren't particularly close at the time, but he was dear to me simply because I had known him for 15 years. We had a lot of memories packed into those 15 years, some of them my fondest from middle and high school. I could go on and on about the goodness that was Drew.

Last night was the Guys and Dolls Auction benefitting the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. It's one of my favorite events of the year because not only does it allow me to continue honoring Drew's memory and celebrating his life, but my good friend Jessica is the Chair of the event. It's a swanky affair, it's fun, and it is so encouraging to see so many young people, so many of my friends in one place, gathering together to raise money for research. And A LOT of money is raised (secretly I'm pretty sure that's the main motivation for the open bar...a sneaky albeit genius move!).

Jess, you know how close I hold the Foundation to my heart but I'm not sure I've said thank you for taking on such a huge responsibility and working so hard to make sure children affected by CF have much longer and much fuller lives. Thank you for giving so generously and for putting your heart and soul into this organization. You are making such an impact.

You are one of my heart strings and I am blessed.

to learn more about Cystic Fibrosis and the fight for the cure, please visit

Friday, February 25, 2011

meatloaf smeatloaf double beatloaf

This past Saturday I was out with some friends, and somehow the movie A Christmas Story came up. If I'm being honest, I should admit that there really isn't a somehow to this. The parts of my life that don't directly point back to a Seinfeld episode are more than likely going to relate to A Christmas Story. Apparently none of these friends have seen it. Even after my quoting it, and pretending to be Randy and not being able to put my arms down, and the discussion of Ovaltine that ensued (one friend even asked if this was a RECENT movie since Ovaltine is popular right is? according to whom? because I'm pretty sure I've never had ovaltine and I consider myself to be abreast of all things popular. Plus, I love all things chocolate). I'm not really sure how these people are my friends actually because anyone who knows me knows that Christmas Eve begins one of my favorite times of the year: 24 Hours of A Christmas Story on TBS. I talk about it throughout the year and then, when the day finally comes, as soon as we’re home from church, I race in and turn on the tube. It’s the only thing I care to watch for the next 24 hours and the best part is that if you have to do other things, you can come right back to your spot in front of the TV and there’s a good chance you’ll see what you missed eventually. The older I’ve gotten the more I find myself quoting it (see above and below). For example, this year I went skiing in our front yard (hollaaa for snow on Christmas Day!), fell down and found myself yelling “I feel like Randy! I can’t get up!” Please note that telling your kid sister you feel like Randy is only going to make her think you're more of a tard than she already thinks. Either way, you are laying there like a slug, trying to make yourself cry because you really just can't get up.

If you've ever seen the movie, you will recall that Ralphies’s mom has a fly swatter in her hand at Christmas, in case either of the boys get out of control. While my mom has gradually stopped using her fly swatter (which she interchanged with a wooden spoon, mind you), she still threatens a “good beatin” every now and then if we’re too out of control whilst under her roof (and everyone knows the Robertsons always function appropriately). And don’t get me started on the cursing father…everyone seemed so dismayed when I screamed “Dad! Come help me get the damn pudding out of the damn spoon!” across the restaurant in real life Mayberry when I was just 5. Even now, 23 years later, we’re trying to figure out where I had heard such language. I’ve had some Flick like friends in my time, but sadly none of them existed when I was 5, so there was only one person to blame...Speaking of ugly words, you can bet if we said them, we got our mouths washed out with soap. This includes words like shut up. I'm sorry but sometimes nothing says it better than “Shut Up, Randy.” But boy did I hate when the soap came out. If they couldn’t find a bar of soap, they’d put liquid soap in our mouths. Since I never got in trouble for running my mouth, I really don’t have an excuse for why I can still taste the bitter, greasy, sanitizing smell of Dial. We didn’t use Life Boy, but I secretly wish we had because then I might have something on my folks if I were to go blind. Right now everything I have on them they can justify. Talk about the ultimate guilt trip. Blown fuses were common in my household growing up and I am proud to say that as an independent woman, while I may not be able to change a flat tire, you can bet I know how to reset a blown fuse. Since the apple doesn’t far from the tree, the fuse box is usually the first thing I locate before moving into a place (that and the doorknobs, but that is a whole different story). Our pet dog, Kayak, lived the life of luxury (when he was alive that is). He had a fan blowing on his bod during the sweltering hot Carolina summers and a heater keeping him warm in the brutal winter. If anyone wanted to dry their head, they had to make sure Kayak was temporarily inconvenienced so you could make sure your locks were shining and straight. And if you didn't, well then you better get on downstairs to the garage and fix the fuse because your mama is trying to roll her hair.

While I skipped the Red Ryder BB gun phase(remember, I'm a g and don't have time for tinker toys), some neighborhood boys had a lot of fun with their BB gun. Because I am very awesome and have never been pesky to anyone, they found me fun enough to include in target practice. Thanks to them, my Atlanta Braves hat has small little specks of holes in it where they shot it after hanging it high up in the tree like mistletoe. And really, who cares about the Atlanta Braves anymore. They'll be cool again about the time Darryl Strawberry stops smoking crack. Winter brought my bullies lots of creativity as they learned they could put rocks in their snowballs before hurling them at me. Unfortunately for me, my bullies didn't have yellow eyes and were instead nothing short of the cutest boys in the 'hood. Fortunately for me, they also loved the art of mooning. Actually, the whole world owes my bullies a big thanks because if it weren't for them, I might today be a tomboy. Because of them, I learned girls who wore baseball hats and talked trash to boys also got shot at with bb guns (this was new for me since talking trash to my brother usually just resulted in getting my hair pulled or getting kicked). While I haven't stopped talking trash, I have been called high-maintenance, whatever that means. You may blame them.

But back to my original point. This conversation has caused me great strife and I've been forced to do an inventory of my friends. Typically, my friend evaluations happen before I cancel our friendship. But from now on, if you haven't seen Encino Man, A Christmas Story or Home Alone, and show a genuine appreciation for each of these films, then you probably shouldn't try to hang out with me anymore. Oh, and the next time I start singing "jingre bells jingre bells, far rar rar, bows of horry" and you don't love it, then you should leave the table. It's just the way it's going to have to be.

The Night I Spoke French While Having a Dance Dance Revolution With a Russian Man

A picture paints a thousand words and this would make the most awesome flip book of all time. Period.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

some thoughts on prisoners.

This morning, I got held up at the traffic light behind a Department of Corrections van. It was in front of me to make a U-turn to go to the other side of the road, the golden side that contains multiple fast food restaurants in a row. Restaurant Row is what I call it. I had already woken up late and was running behind (what else is new) and since I use any excuse to go to the McDonalds, I was allowing myself an overdue visit to the fast food joint king of my heart. But, thanks to this Department of Corrections van, I was forced to run a red light while doing my own u-turn. At any rate, I quickly realized (because I got held up again and I don't mean at gun point) while turning into the McDonald's parking lot. The Department of Corrections van was going through the drive thru! I mean, so were a dump truck and a truck full of ladders but those are beside the point. While clearly I need to write a book on drive-thru etiquette, the thing that got me the most was the VAN FULL OF PRISONERS going through the drive thru. I quickly started rattling off in my brain things prisoners get that I don't. Additionally, things that we both get but I don't feel it is fair for them to get.

a. Prisoners apparently get fast food. Sometimes, I don't.
b. Prisoners get cable tv. I grew up without it and have only had cable during college and in the past two years.
c. Prisoners get to play outside for an hour a day. I sit inside during daylight hours blogging, socializing and occasionally working.
d. Prisoners get out early for good behavior. I behave good so I don't go to prison and I don't get extra treats. Or the course of my life changed forever.
e. Prisoners get tats. Granted, they are prison tats, but if I want a tat, I gotta fork over some dough.
f. Prisoners get jobs. A lot of people not in prison can't get a job and really want them, but prisoners get to answer the phone for the NC Dept. of Tourism, they make things, I mean shoot, even Martha Stewart made things at her job in prion. I know they don't earn a lot of money, BUT THEY STILL GET JOBS. (if you don't believe me, tell me and I will send you links to the documentaries I have watched on my cable tv in the past 2 years on prison jobs).
g. Prisoners get into fights. Do you know how much I want to fight someone? just once. Just because I secretly believe that I am g. But if I were to fight, I might go to prison. They fight, they go into solitary confinement. and honestly, being alone doesn't seem like a bad thing if you're cooped up in a cell with another dude and a toilet.
h. Prisoners get to work on the side of the road. I don't get to do this, nor do I want to do this - having a large guy on your tail with a rifle in case you break away from the group does not sound appealing, and I do owe the prisoners a thank you for keeping our roads clean (I always make sure to call the Dept. of Corrections and tell them thank you for putting the prisoners to work in public). I guess I sound like an oxymoron because I don't think they should get jobs while in prison but I don't mind them working on the side of the road. It's the PAYMENT for the jobs that I don't agree with. I am completely for chain gangs and letting them pull weeds and pick up trash.
i. Prisoners get to work out. I've heard rumors it's only for an hour a day but some of those prisoners are really, really large. So unless they're allowed to do steroids in prison, or doing my friend Natalie's prison workout on their tvs when they aren't outside working out, then they are getting more than an hour a day to work out. Sometimes, I don't have time to workout between working and obeying the law.
j. Prisoners get a lot of dates. Seriously. I'm thinking about going to prison because apparently that ups your dateability.
k. additionally, prisoners get marriage offers...I'm available if you don't want a prisoner.
l. prisoners get their lives made into Lifetime movies. Hello! Have you NOT seen my life? I am 100% Lifetime worthy enough.
m. prisoners CONTINUE to break the law even while they're in prison! they sell drugs, they get on facebook, they download music (hey lil wayne), shoot they even try to break out of prison! I take issue with this because as a law abiding citizen, when I get caught speeding, I try not to speed for at least a week. In other words, i try to obey the law after getting caught. they just don't care.
n. People dress up as prisoners for Halloween and sometimes make it sexy. No one has ever tried to dress up as me for Halloween. and no, it is not because I am already scary enough as I am. sexy, maybe. but definitely not scary.
o. Prisons get a lot of tourists. Even I have been behind the bars of Alcatraz. I don't see anyone coming to check out my digs or see what I go through on a day to day basis. And no one has ever written a book about me or sold sercies that are replicas of things I love.

I could go on and on but the more I think of, the more annoyed I get and the harder I pound these keys. I noticed the state penitentiary has gotten larger since the last time I lived here. Since being a prisoner seems to be the cool thing to do, I bet my selection of pen pals is awesome right now. However, because I like to be over the top and not cause my dad any worry, I am going to ride on up to Butner, NC (only about an hour away) and say hello to Bernie Madoff. I bet we could get into a lot of trouble together. And hey, if I get in trouble, at least I'll get to watch tv and workout all day, every day. and eat fast food!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Guest Blogger!

I got asked to guest blog on Kristin's blog. check it out.


Tuesday, February 1, 2011

It's All Greek For Me!

Last night I received a care package in the mail. Mind you, I’m getting ready to move. But that doesn’t stop my kid sister, Eli, from sending me a box of sercies from the mountains of NC. Last time she sent me a package, it was a brand spankin’ new sorority shirt (I probably shouldn’t say that on here…and heck yes she has taught me the secret handshake). I have always wanted to be a sorority girl and wear Greek letters all over my person, but there was no Greek Life at the school I went to. I managed to join a Christian sorority at a nearby coed university, but that’s a whole different blog all together. So anyway, ever since Eli joined Phi Mu (not Phi Moo like rumor has it), I’ve been able to live out my sorority girl dreams vicariously through her. So much so that once, while buying a pair of slightly scandalous knee high boots, the very cute and very much younger than me kid checking me out asked me where I went to school (I had, as all good sorority girls do, worn my official Phi Mu shirt to the mall). I looked at him blankly until he said “Where are you a Phi Mu?” I quickly debated in my head if I wanted to lie and pick this cute boy up or if I wanted to be honest and not go to prison. I told him my sister gave me the shirt. He said that he was a TKE at another school and he knew about the Phi Mus at Appalachian. Ok 1. What does that even mean that you KNOW about the Phi Mus at App? Just what kinds of girls are these girls? And 2. TKEs were always SO cute at NC State and had the BEST parties…maybe I should say I was lying about my sister and am available for their spring formal.

Lucky for me, Eli has made it her college mission to turn me into a cute sorority girl. She may not graduate on time, but gosh darn it, I’m going to look like a sorority girl by the time she does graduate. For example: as a Christmas gift, I received a pair of Phi Mu croakies as a way to further complete my sorority girl look. Last night’s goody box was still further proof of her efforts. It was like a sorority girl starter kit all compiled into one box on my doorstep. I received one hand painted Phi Mu wooden box, an official Appalachian State cup, some game day temporary tats, some croakies, some socks, some potpourri, some Burt’s bees, a masquerade mask and a door hanger. Now, these items may seem a little strange to one or all of you, but I have come up with explanations for each item and why it is important for inclusion in my sorority girl starter kit.

1. Clearly, the Phi Mu wooden box is meant for me to keep my sercies in, or perhaps my lavalier should I ever get lavaliered or pinned one day. I do hope this happens.
2. The App State plastic cup is to be my roadie as I make my way to the next frat party or tailgate (or dinner at the sorority house. Do they still serve dinner at the sorority house? I’ve not been asked to live in one so I do not know).
3. The game day tats are important because everyone knows that if you’re for real about your sorority, you’re going to be at your tailgate on game day. You will be decked out in your finest school colors and the game day temporary tats just add flare to your already remarkable and extra cute outfit.
4. The App State croakies are to be on your backup pair of sunglasses. Because all girls want to be a sorority girl (thereby watching our every move), and because the sun never sets on a badass, you should have multiple pairs of sunglasses. The first pair will have your sorority croakies on them, and the second pair will be your school croakies so at all times you are supporting the two things you love most.
5. The socks are just cute. I was most excited to receive these socks because just the other day I said to a friend that I needed new socks but didn’t know how to buy them as I have honestly, in all my 28 years, never purchased a pair of socks for myself. I’m not sure these necessarily SHOULD go in a sorority girl starter kit, but they are great for THIS sorority girl. Especially since the yellow yarn balls on the ankles show my school spirit.
6. The potpourri I’m insecure about but I think I will put it in a little vase in my bathroom. This will help my room seem cleaner and smell better when my fraternity boy of choice comes over for some QT after the party we’re going to hit up later on.
7. Now the Burt’s Bees should be a staple for anyone, Greek or from any other country. I have to say though that I take exception to this Burt’s Bees goody pack. I’m pretty sure Eli received this for Christmas but she TOOK THE CHAP STICK OUT! I was super pumped to receive the mini blemish control stick since Santy Clause lost the one that was supposed to go in my stocking this year, but I can’t believe she took the chap stick out. Everyone knows Burt best for his lippy and my lips are going to be awfully chapped from kissing all the fraternity boys in the cold elements of App State. At least I will be blemish free. And my cuticles will look nice since she didn’t swipe the giant jar of Burt’s cuticle cream.
8. Now this red, sequined mask is curious. As sisters, we share a love of all things sequined and strange. I guess maybe one of the events of Rush this year will be a masquerade ball? I’m not sure. I secretly want to wear this to work but I’m insecure as to the reaction I may receive. And I can’t wear it to sleep because it is missing the eye covers. So clearly it is for a Rush event. I will hold tightly to this as it could very well guarantee my success as a sorority girl.
9. The door hanger is a make your own model. I’m not one for crafts but I do need people to respect my privacy when I’m burning incense and having QT with frat boys, so I better get on this right away. Oh wait, maybe this is the paddle I’m supposed to decorate? Don’t Greeks have paddles for every event?
10. I have a question. Can I wear my fave sorority event tee and croakies in the annual portrait that will sit on the wall of the sorority house? Those drapes are pretty drab and don’t show off my school spirit the way I feel they should.

At any rate, even in my move, I am going to look so cute and preppy. This was such a treat to receive. I just hope Eli doesn’t get kicked out of the sorority after her sisters read this. That would really cause a problem in the sorostituting of Merdeezy.