Monday, October 31, 2011

29th Year of the Deeze

Tomorrow, I turn 29. I know. How in the EFFFFF did I get so old? I may or may not have spied a gray hurr up in my do the other day. I keep reading all these things about what women can and can't do once they turn 30, which would mean I have exactly one year left to act juvenile and childish. I thought about having a birthday party to mark the beginning of what is sure to be the craziest year I've lived (you try thinking about all the things you do that you shouldn't once you become a real deal adult. You'd be overwhelmed too. And hell bent on overdosing on every activity). Remember Roger Murtaugh and how he's too old for this shit? Well, I've created my own Murtaugh List below (if I were having a party, these are the things we'd do) of some things I have read that I can no longer do once I turn 30. So, for the next year, I'm going to party like a rock star and get it ALL out of my system. You know, before I really am too old for this shit.

Merdeezy's Murtaugh List
1. crush on Justin Bieber (at least he turns 18 before I turn 30)
2. give high fives (you better take me to jail now because I am going to continue giving high fives until I am blue in the face. or my hand hurts. whichever comes first)
3. play beer pong (this is ok. but then again, when I play beer pong, I play with Mike's Hard Lemonade so I guess this rule doesn't apply to me)
4. take shots (I won't argue with this one. I wore out this welcome on my second 21st birthday)
5. drink pink panty out of a cooler (ok so it was really jungle juice but come on people! I mean, I guess it makes sense because what 60 year old have you seen on his or her knees with a straw in a cooler full or jungle juice?)
6. eat spaghetti out of a can (yep. not happening. As much as I love to cook, I'm pretty sure even when I'm 30 a can of spaghetti o's and my couch are gonna look pretty appealing for dinner after a long hard day in the cube)
7. party till 5a (why? Do the circles under my eyes get darker once I turn 30?)
8. refer to your friends as dude, girls and boys and all activities as shenanigans (hmm. guess I better go back to grammar school and learn a new vocabulary)
9. make out in bars or anywhere public for that matter (well damn. I better get busy finding my husband this next year because I don't ever want to have to tell my children that I never got to make out with their father in a bar)
10. wear dirty clothes off the floor and go to bed without washing your face (guess Trudy only has one more year before she dies)

so, for the next year, if you see me doing anything other than actin a fool, please correct me in my place. Give me a high five, compliment my dirty clothes and ask how the biebs is doing. Because for the next 365 days, I'm gonna party like it is


and then I'm going to die.

all hallows eve 2011

believe it or not, I'm not a huge trick or treater. Honestly, it's because I'm juvenile and I still get my feelings hurt when people can't celebrate my birthdizzy until they have recovered from their drunken Halloween stupors. I mean don't get me wrong. I can pull off a mean Jessica Simpson, a delicious birthday cake, a graceful syncronized swimmer and even a pretty fierce tattoo girl. This year takes the cake though. Emily said she wanted to dress up at work. I said no. She said what if we wear temporary tattoos? Oh be still my beating heart. Anyone who knows me knows I love some temporary tats. They let me fulfill my dream of having tats without regretting it a year later. With the promise of tats and a giant afro wig, I obliged.

Someone asked me was I Kat Von D on a bad hair day. Someone asked me was I Oprah (really? Oprah?). Someone told me I looked like I had cirrhosis ( last I checked I didn't really look like a giant liver walking around). And someone asked me if I was the Rocky Horror Picture Show (not just one character. the entire cast). All of these concern me. I mean, I thought I was looking pretty fly when I walked out of the hizzy that morning. Just another day with bigger hair and more flair on my appendages.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

day 2: who is someone you know who inspires beauty?

So, I admit, my Project 31 isn't going so well. I'm not doing it 31 days in a row. But maybe I never really planned to anyway. And now here I am, just on day 2 (please note that day 1 was posted exactly 24 days ago, so really, I should be almost done with this endeavor). But I really want to stick with this. Not because I lack any funny stories anymore, because I think we all know that I am still funny (right? right.) but because I think this will be good. So today, I want to share with you the beauty that is my friend Karoline.

Karoline and I met in college, when her two roommates in her triple room suggested, err, kicked her out and "suggested" she move into the adjoining single (don't feel bad. it's actually pretty funny). I saw her struggling to fix her carpet, so I offered her my box cutter (I have always been so helpful. I met Carey when she was bleeding to death and I offered her a bandaid, but this isn't about me). And the rest is history. Karoline is truly someone who inspires beauty. She is truly beautiful. She is amongst some of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Karoline is a hottie on the outside, but on the inside she possesses this beauty that I think is actually quite rare anymore. She is genuine. She is loyal. She is honest. She is passionate. She loves Jesus. And she is authentic. Karoline is someone who loves life. It'd be easy to think that Karoline has it all. And she does have it all. But that isn't to say she hasn't had hardships along the way. But the thing about Karoline that puts her apart from all the rest is how even in the midst of her struggles, she handles life with grace. Karoline has been such an encouragement to me in the past 10 years. I have learned so much about faith and what God's love really means. I have seen God move in my life because of Karoline.

Karoline is always happy to share in your joys, and is always there with an uplifting word or prayer when you cry. She is a part of so many of my fondest memories, and when I think of beauty, I think of Karoline. I am so blessed to have her in my life and so thankful for her friendship. It's nice to know that the same beautiful friend who prays with you over hot dogs also shares the same hopes and dreams you do, understands you and still loves you anyway.

(don't) save the date

Recently, somehow, someway, I found myself discussing etiquette and debating its relevancy. My opponent was quite amused to learn I had not one but multiple etiquette books. I guess I can see why this might be amusing. Especially when I compliment the chef with a belch or don't always put my hand in my lap at the supper table all the while singing at the top of my lungs. Emily Post just released a new edition of her etiquette book and I can't wait to get my hands on it. I'm curious about a few things that aren't in my etiquette books. Namely, save the dates.

Now, first, let me disclaim that I fully recognize that all of the trash I have talked about other people's weddings will come back to haunt me one day. If I ever get married, I'll probably have to have a secret wedding just so people can't judge my food or gown or music selection like I have done in the past. But one thing I know for a fact I will not do is send save the dates.

Shortly after graduation, I received a save the date in the mail for a girl that I knew but wasn't particular close with. I was actually quite surprised to get this piece of mail, but since I love mail, and was secretly excited for the new addition to my stamp collection, I decided I would take what I could get. And because I was surprised to have received a save the date, I called my good friend to inquire about whether or not she too had received a save the date. She had not but she made a good point when she asked me did I even want to save the date to this wedding. But, the thing is, part of me did want to save the date. I mean, at that point, I was attending at least a wedding a month and what was one more. Besides, only a stupid can argue against the free food and drink a wedding provides. At any rate, I knew when it came down to it, I wouldn't be and guested and I probably wouldn't go (and this was before I even really had beef with people who don't and guest their single friends), so I did not in fact save the date. It was a good thing too since the wedding came and went and I never received an invitation. It wasn't until a few months after the fact while perusing the book that I realized this information (obviously wedding pictures had been posted by this point). Upon realizing this, I called my friend up and told her it was a good thing I hadn't saved the date since I hadn't even been invited to the wedding.

We then began to it worse knowing you're on the B list by the lack of invitation in your mailbox or is it worse knowing you were on the A list and then removed as I clearly had been?

I'm not really sure. All I know is boy am I glad I didn't save that date. I would have been sorely disappointed had I stood up myself for a wedding.

Friday, October 21, 2011

cupcake fail

guess who got fired from the cupcake shop? if you guessed Eli then you deserve a prize. I can't say that I've ever been fired from a job, so I thoroughly enjoyed asking her what it was like to get canned and if her feelings were hurt. She got fired for not up-selling the cupcakes.

now. if you've ever been to one of these cupcake shops, you know that not only are the cuppies like 3 bucks a piece, but sometimes they charge you for the box to put them in! So a quick snack can easily run you 5+ bucks.

When I asked Eli if she cared that she had been fired, she informed me "no. I mean, I'm not going to tell some fattie she should buy another cupcake when she doesn't need the one she already has."

She has a point. And hey, at least she got to keep her company tshirt.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

in defense of my faith

"Faith means, whether I am visibly delivered or not, I will stick to my belief that God is love." ~Oswald Chambers

Recently someone shared with me that they found my view and approach to Christianity perplexing. I found this curious. And obviously it bothered me and I've been mulling over it and now I'm blogging about it. I know I'll get judged for being too open once again, but the bottom line is, I've now been judged on MY approach to MY faith, so I'm not sure any other judging will count as much. If that makes sense.

Here's the thing. Faith is confusing. I get it. How can I believe in something I haven't seen? How can I believe a book written by multiple people over a long period of time is true? How can I believe that the same God that flooded the entire earth as retribution for sin can turn around and flood my heart with love and peace? How can I believe that God would love a murderer the same amount He loves me? How can I believe that a higher power even exists? There are so many things (and people) pointing you to what is wrong with faith, what is confusing about faith, what makes faith a waste of your time. I can't say I've studied other religions, but I learned enough in Miss Moody's World Religion class to know that Christianity is the only faith that makes sense. To me. It may not make sense to you, and that's ok. When I was younger, I was very robust about spreading the word and sharing my faith. I felt like everyone should be a Christian. Don't get me wrong. I still feel that way. BUT, I guess now I'm more about showing what Christianity is for than what it is against. Too many people want to point out all the wrongs with Christianity. Too many crazy people get on tv preaching the gospel and singing bad songs and it turns people off. I get it. I really do. But that's not my faith. That is not the faith I know.

You see, I believe that faith as small as a mustard seed really can move mountains. How do I know that? because I am living proof. Even when my faith has been on life support, I've been moved and my world has been rocked for the better. And it wasn't by my own doing.

I believe that the God (and His son Jesus) of my faith loves everyone equally, no matter what sin you commit.There's this thing called free will. I can make my own choices. I can choose how to live my life. I can choose to sin. But, the God (and His son Jesus) I know still loves me anyway. And He's happy when I come back to him. over and over and over again. The God (and His son Jesus) of my faith is faithful to me. Even when, especially when, I'm not faithful back.

Much to my own dismay, I truly don't believe the God (or His son Jesus) of my faith is affiliated with any political party.

I don't believe the God (or His son Jesus) of my faith wants bad things to happen to us. I've actually been pondering a lot whether or not the God (or His son Jesus) I know allows for bad things to happen to us. I think I've decided that He doesn't. Yes, bad things happen. People make decisions that cause hurt feelings and pain for others. But the God (or His son Jesus) of my faith doesn't sit up in Heaven and point to people on earth and say "today you will do this bad thing so that this person can be hurt."

At the same time, the God (or His son Jesus) of my faith does allow for good things to happen. God's word says that through Him, our lives are longer and we will prosper and become wise. I believe that.

I believe that no matter what choices you've made in your life, you still deserve a place to put your head at night and you still deserve a decent meal. The God (and His son Jesus) of my faith believes in loving others and meeting people right where they are.

Sometimes I think about how Israel can be God's chosen people if the Jews don't believe Jesus is the savior. Sometimes I think about how the Trinity doesn't make sense but I can't explain why. I don't really care if you shave your beard or tattoo your body. I believe the verse about women being submissive to their husbands is abused because let's face it: how many husbands REALLY love their wives the same way Christ loved the Church? I do believe the family that prays together stays together. I believe people come back to their faith. I do believe your heart should be guarded, because it IS the well spring of life. And no one else is going to guard it for you. I believe my faith is my own and I may judge you on your outfit or the people you surround yourself with, but as a Christian, it is not my place to demand you believe what I believe. I have no desire to search for evidence or look for faults. If you search for fault, you'll find it. Guaranteed. I am happy to base my faith off what I know. I don't have all the answers. I may pretend like I do, but I don't. I don't know the Bible like the back of my hand. I don't believe you have to go to church to be a "good Christian." Going to church holds you accountable and keeps the fire burning. But being a "good Christian" is so much more. It's about accepting that Jesus died for your sins, that he got nailed to that cross so you didn't have to. It's about giving of yourself and serving others. It's about trying to live as He called us to live but knowing we're going to stumble and we're going to fall and the beauty in it is that His grace really is enough.

C.S. Lewis said "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."

And that is what I believe.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

thought for the day.

(courtesy of sex and the city)

But we keep trying. Because you have to figure, if the world's fattest twins can find love, there's hope for all of us. Somewhere out there, there's another little freak that will love us, understand us, and kiss our three heads and make it all better.

reader comment

Jess left me the following message today on gchat:

i just wanted you to know my dad has a bust of a jackalope and a jackalope hunting license. of course, the license is valid only in certain parts of MN, only on like the 5th friday of feb during a blue moon period between the hours of 2 and 3:30am, and the like...
so i'm thinking we should definitely wonder what you ate in austin.

my thoughts exactly.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

she has skinny legs just like fanny

I would like to introduce you to Barbara. She, like Carrie Bradshaw, is not affiliated with any political party. She just likes parties. She is 7lbs of pure sweetness, which is basically the same thing as a reese cup.

Lee had been encouraging me to get another pet after Pete's demise. I perused the Humane Society's website just to see what was out there. I mean, I have always secretly wanted to have a Cavalier King Charles to name Jessica Simpson. But let's face it. There are tons of dogs that need good homes. And they're cheaper! And we all know how the Deeze likes a good deal. There was a dog named Truffle that was nothing short of captivating. I couldn't stop staring at her. I don't even like dogs and I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and love on her. So on Saturday, Lee and I drove over to meet her. I'm not sure what I would have done if we didn't get along. I actually hadn't even considered not getting along with her. They brought her out, put her in my arms and she licked me up the nose. And it was all over from there. It took exactly 15 minutes for me to say "I want her."

Barbara is a 4 year old terrier mix and weighs 7.0 lbs. She is missing some hair and has been "over bred." She may or may not have come from a puppy mill (she's not pure bred but she's tiny so maybe they lied at the mill). She just had puppies 8 weeks ago, but I didn't bring any of them home with me. She is potty trained, which was a huge concern for me. I don't know how to potty train anything nor am I interested in learning right now. She is a huge snuggler and a huge licker. She will lick any part of me she can get her snout on (come to think of it, it's rather a shame she's not a human boy...). And she's obsessed with me. She wants to be in my lap at all times. She was riding high when I got pulled over for speeding on Sunday.

I've never been a dog person before. I don't enjoy getting licked all over my grille. But man do I love me some Barbara. She is so tiny and so snuggly and so lovey dovey. And she gets so excited to see me. Every time I've come home since I got her, she's gone CRAZY over me. And if she isn't following me from room to room, it's because she's sitting in someone else's lap (but looking for me the whole time).

Some people have told me I've moved on too fast. I haven't moved on. I'm still obsessed with Republican Pete and am still happy to show off pictures of him to everyone. I haven't replaced him by any stretch. But Barbara was waiting for me. The average stay at the shelter is ten days. She'd been there for almost 25 or something ridiculous. And there's a reason why she was the ONLY one who captured my heart.

All it took was one lick for me to know that she was mine and I was hers. I'm still not a dog person when it comes to your dog. But, you better like mine. Plus, mine is adorbs. So how could you not!

a flask of whiskey out at night

If you look at that picture and think to yourself, "why, that is a rabbit with antlers!" then you would be correct for that is a picture of a jackalope.

Now, let me first say that I used to sing karaoke at jackalope jack's in Charlotte. and it NEVER occurred to me to wonder what a jackalope was. and you can bet if I never thought about what something was, then I sure didn't think about whether or not it was real. Fast forward a few years to my trip to Austin for work. I decided to stay for a few days after and explore the city (but you know me and you know when I say exploring I really mean eating). One of the delicacies I sampled was a jackalope. They told me it was native to New Zealand. It tasted ok but since they didn't show any pictures, I was unsure of what this animal looked like that I had just put into my mouth. So when I got home, I asked someone also native to New Zealand (no, not an aborigine. Besides, they're in Australia) just what exactly a jackalope was. After trying to convince me I really meant a wallaby (I already knew a jackalope was not a kangaroo), he told me it sounded pretty made up and was fairly certain it was not native to New Zealand.

So then I began to wonder where I had heard that this jackalope was native to New Zealand. My mother confirmed it was when I ate the jackalope. I decided to get to the bottom of it. I asked one of my sales reps in Texas if he knew that the jackalope wasn't real. He told me it was real and he had even confirmed with some other reps in Texas that it was real. And then he sent me the above picture.

A rabbit with antlers (that you can attract by leaving a flask of whiskey out at night). Something about this just doesn't sound right to me. And now I am concerned about what I put in my mouth back in Austin.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Sky Mall

You know that magazine they put in the airplanes, Sky Mall? You know the one that they say to feel free to take with you because they will replace it? I've never taken one with me. But I've taken a gander at them from time to time. After barely making my connection in Newark (damn you, NJ), I was too frazzled to remember to grab my book out of my bag so I had no choice but to browse the sky mall in flight. Except, I found the following things. And I am concerned for America. There's always weird shit on tv but some of this stuff I haven't even seen on tv. So I guess instead of those "as seen on tv" stores, the next big thing is a "as seen in the Sky Mall" store. Seriously though. Who buys this crap?

a visor with hair attached to it! What a great idea! You know, in case you want to surprise your golfing buddies one day with some new hair. And, it even comes in 4 different colors. I don't know any man that doesn't appreciate having options. but the best part about this visor hair is that it provides INSTANT smiles. Hollaaa!

first off, obviously if you can afford to purchase TWO THOUSAND cds, then you must be rich. and it's a good thing because you're gonna need a giant wall for this book shelf. This thing would take up literally an entire side of my house. i think the real issue though is the Disney movies. Are they talking about 456 dvds or 456 VHS tapes? Because the VHS tapes are where it's at. they were huge and really pretty. But let's face it. Other than Beauty and the Beast and Toby Tyler, no one should own 456 Disney movies. And that's coming from the girl who fully supports watching the Disney channel in your free time. Miley Cyrus had to get her start somewhere.

Can we talk about this Buddha for a minute? Not only does he look constipated in the large picture, but in the small picture, he's walking on all fours! How are we supposed to pat his belly if his belly is face down?! And further, why would anyone make Buddha their end table? That's just wrong.

this is perfect for the coming zombie apocalypse. you know, just in case you were curious what a zombie looked like in the quick sand that i know you have in your yard. here's my thing. if i were going to kill a zombie, i probably wouldn't do it in my front yard. once he finally slips all the way through, you still have a dead zombie in your yard. if you have ever spent a hundy on a dying zombie, please raise your hand. because i want to steal your wallet since you clearly have lots more moolah than I do.

garden gnomes are no longer in. skelegnomes are. especially the dinosaur holding the flower basket. i'm pretty sure if you put that next to your steps, everyone would think you were the most creative archaeologist in america because not only did you unearth an entire bone set of live dino, but you put flowers in his mouth to welcome your guests!!

Now. I showed this someone and they said "some people really believe in Big Foot." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Who number 1 actually believes in Big Foot (besides my brother who sent me an email of his new Netflix delivery: Harry and the Hendersons) but number 2. if you DO believe in Big Foot, why would you have his statue in your yard? It's not like that looks normal to have an ape man straight out of Loch Ness swaggering through your yard. I just feel like there are lots of ways to have your neighbors take you seriously, and this isn't it.

and now for my fave discovery at the Sky Mall.

I would like to attend this clinic. Where do I sign up? I've got a right foot I'd like to put in. Additionally, this is the perfect mate for my Alcatraz Outpatient tshirt.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

There are no ordinary cats. - Colette

Sunday night, I said goodbye to the most extraordinary cat. I first laid eyes upon this little creature the day this picture was taken, in October 2004. My boyfriend at the time called and asked me if I wanted a kitten. Did I want a kitten! Does a cat have a tail?! My mother informed me that no, I did not want a kitten. But, knowing I was about to graduate and move into my own place, I convinced his parents to keep him until then. He was the most precious little boy. I named him Pete. And it was love at first sight.

The vet determined he was about 4 weeks old, far too young to be away from his mama, and that he had hip displaysia. He could barely walk and when he did, it definitely wasn't a straight line. It was actually quite funny to see this little baby boy fall every time he tried to walk. And running wasn't an option. I mean, it was, but not really, because he fell every time he ran. We used to say Pete was the guy who made everything awkward. He'd come into the room and just lean against the wall, the chair or you. And then he would just fall over. But he was so smooth about it, like you didn't even need to worry about him.

Pete was a good sport. He let me carry him all around and call him various names. He spent his life being called Republican Pete (thanks to a delightful bow tie his Aunt Kristin gave him for his first valentine's day), Pumpkin Pete at Halloween, Santa Paws at Christmas and Little Bear all other times. He was my aPeteage, more attached to me than most appendages. He was a Pete-ing Tom because of the way he spied on you while you were bathing. And he thought I was his pet. Most mornings I woke up to his wet nose smushed against my face or his paw patting my cheek. He was a nightmare to get on a schedule (ask my mom. She tells the funniest story of the night she ended up on the air mattress when she came to visit because Pete could only sleep in the bed) but once he got on one, boy did he stick to it. I spent the last 7 years waking at 530 almost every morning to feed him before falling back asleep. Pete was living proof that cats don't know when they get declawed. After much debate, I had him declawed when he was about 8 months old. And every night until the last time I saw him, he would shine his paws on the edge of my green chair. No one could say Pete wasn't spiffy. Or skinny. Once, the vet told me "he could stand to lose a pound or two." I just told her we could all stand to lose a pound or two. No one calls my son a fatty.

Call me a cat lady all you want. I realize I was (and still am) overly attached to my little bear. For awhile there, he was the only reason I had to get up in the mornings. Knowing he was depending on me kept me going. He was my buddy. He accepted me fully without hesitation and never once hurt my feelings. I know he only thought good things about me because he always purred (hence his name Sir Purr) when he snuggled up next to me. He was the best egg.

I'll spare you the details but let's just say finding him the way I did broke my heart into a million and one tiny pieces. I don't like surprises really, and this was one that I wasn't ready for. At all. I have always said I didn't want to be there when Pete kicked the bucket, because I didn't know if I could handle it. So maybe in a way me not being there was a blessing in disguise. But I did come home. And when I did, he wasn't there anymore. All I know is thank the good Lord that I have a friend who took care of him and made him feel loved in his last days (even though we had no idea these were them). And all I know is thank the good Lord that I have a friend who drove an hour without question late at night to pick me up off the ground, put Pete in a box, and take me to get a treat. And all I know is thank the good Lord that my dad didn't even bat an eye when I called them screaming. He just got in the car and came to get me and my treasured pet. And he took us home to Charlotte. And thank the good Lord I have a brother who willingly spent his day taking Pete to the vet to be cremated so I didn't have to.

Anyone who says it's just a pet doesn't understand. Pete was my buddy. I feel like a part of me is missing. Like I've had my arm cut off. It makes my heart so sad to know when I go home at night, he won't be there chirping at me or falling over to have his hair brushed. It makes me sad that I won't be able to pat his little head or rub his belly again. The worst part is that Pete was a non-negotiable with me. We were a package. And now we're only me. I don't remember who I was before Pete arrived. And now I gotta figure out how to be a grown up about this whole thing.

Love stinks. But sheesh. I'm so glad I got to spend 7 years of my life with him. We were a purrfect match for sure. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Caller I.d. Huh?

Tonight I called my dad to say hello. Per usual, I identified myself. I mean, it's not unlike my dad to have a conversation with someone without having a clue as to who they are, even his own children.

Dad said to me: "I know who you are. The phone has your name on it. Wait. Is this your phone? I thought I answered our phone."

I'm glad that in 2011 caller id still baffles even the brightest of the bunches.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Thoughts on austin city limits

"they have a lot of pigeons in this town. They need to clean the streets. Or, just kill em."
~My mama on the way to dinner tonight.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

the biebs comes to north cackalacky

We all know the following things about myself: I am obsessed with the biebs and I am obsessed with facebook. I guess obsessed isn't fair. I don't want to sound crazy. So, I guess you could say I am extremely interested in all things bieber related and all things facebook related. And these things tie together so much more than the occasional status update about the biebs.

About a month ago, a friend of mine from Florida tagged a picture of me on facebook. This was curious since I hadn't seen Gen since I had moved from Florida. When I logged on (who am I kidding. I am always logged on to the book), I saw she had tagged me in a picture of her kissing a lifesize cut out of the Biebs, complete with the caption that she saw him, thought of me and knew he'd rather be receiving a smackeroo from me than her. Because I never get overly excited about childish or redonk things, I emailed her immediately telling her I would be in FL in a few weeks and could we arrange for me to pick it up from her.


I offered to pay for him.

Gen responded that he was mine, free of charge, if I wanted him. I decided I had no problem taking him to FedEx to be shipped home to NC. I mean, everyone knows FedEx will ship anything, especially if you are willing to cut off your arm for it. And I was.

During this time, Emily from FL called to ask me if there was anything special I wanted to do while I was in town. She rattled off all 57 of my favorite restaurants and I told her forget eating, all I had to do was go pick up a life size Justin bieber and ship him back to myself. She said "of course you do." Like, it didn't even seem strange to her. I guess that right there is proof of how you know you have good friends.

So, on Saturday night of my visit, we loaded up in the Jeep, drove across town and met Gen outside of the restaurant she and her boyfriend were at for dinner. Gen confessed she couldn't fit the Biebs in her red Beetle Bug, so she had to fold him. This was Ok. You couldn't tell he was folded, AND, this meant I could carry him on the plane. Which is precisely what I did. it was all going well until someone opened the overhead and he slid out, knocking some old biddy in the head. I apologized, asked her if she was OK (while putting him back in the overhead bin) and do you know what she said to me?


really? My feelings were hurt! It was JUST a cardboard cutout of the Biebs. And she wasn't bleeding or bruised. Of course when I shared my sentiments with my parents when they picked me up at the airport, my dad told me that not everyone appreciates getting knocked in the head by a cardboard Justin Bieber. I feel like people need to calm down.

It's JUST the Biebs people. Plus, he was folded.

You can rest assured though he is home, hanging out by my grandmother's china cabinet. And for all of you haters who think he is a little boy? He's taller than me. So THERE.

Remember when I said beauty made me think of Pawley's Island?

When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator. ~ Gandhi

(ps - lee took this. how lucky am i that he doesn't charge me for his pictures? i'd probably charge him)

Sunday, October 2, 2011

day 1: what does beauty mean to you?

i don't really know what beauty means to me...yet. I guess that's part of why I am on this journey.

but, when I think of beauty

I think of sunsets at Pawley's Island
I think of the first time I saw the snow capped mountains of Colorado and wondered how anyone could not believe in a heavenly father when they saw the very definition of majestic
I think of the first time I saw a rainbow while crossing the ditch in my beloved PVB
I think of a dove with an olive branch in her mouth
I think of a deep belly laugh
I think of a favorite bottle of wine
I think of my Amie
I think of my friend Jenn on her wedding day
I think of my friend Drew who never lost sight of his savior even as cystic fibrosis took his life
I think of my parents' backyard in the spring
I think of the birds that sing outside my door each morning

I think of so many things. those are just a few of them.

A more serious tone for a few.

I believe one of the sweetest, most precious parts of being a Christian is having a cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1) with whom we can share the joys and sorrows of life, with whom we can question our faith and our God and with whom we can discuss our journeys. Recently, one of these dear friends and I were discussing beauty. I mean, who hasn't wondered if they possess beauty. If you've ever read Captivating, you might relate to the thought that true beauty is revealed in the depths of a woman's heart.

This conversation was much needed for me as I had just gotten off the phone with someone who shared with me that they thought I was "too open" on my blog. This really surprised me since other than my spiritual reflections and thoughts, nothing on Merdeezy Hollaaas is really of substance. There are many things I hold dear that I would never open up to speculation or ridicule. This blog wasn't started as a refuge for me to share my deepest and darkest. It was started for entertainment and for laughter. I guess you could say that even though I seem pretty open about my life, Proverbs 4:23 isn't exactly something I take lightly. Anyway, my friend directed me to Project 31, which is a 31 day "project" to celebrate beauty. Even further, specifically, to celebrate our God given beauty. It's based on the Proverbs 31 woman, and at the risk of being too open (and therefore being judged), it is one I think could serve some purpose.

So, here is my humble attempt at celebrating beauty.