The fat lady should not sing

unlike her mother, Barbara does not appreciate all the fine things the opera has to offer.

you sprayed my front twice!

Carey and I went to the tanning bed last night to use our Groupons for spray tans. now. If you know me, you know that I love a good spray tan. You know that I firmly believe if you cannot tone it, you should tan it.

If you've never been in one of these, you should probably be made aware that it's like a car wash for your bod. Mystic Tan used to spray you 30 seconds on the front and 30 seconds on the back and you were lucky if you got any spray in your in between areas. These days, Mystic is out and Versa is in (does anyone remember the Real World when they had to run a Mystic Tan booth? I was jealous of them that season). Versa is similar to Mystic except that it does 4 rotations of 10 seconds each and then 4 rotations of cold air to dry you off. No patting your nakey, tan bod down afterward, thus reducing the risk of streaks and splotches. Unless of course, you're Merdeezy.

See, last night, I may have been on drugs. I'm not really sure what my problem was. But I was seriously acting like I had never been in one of these before. Not only did I show up not freshly bathed OR without a full leftover face from work, but I missed one of my rotations. As you are aware, I am hard of hearing in one ear. It just so happens to be the ear that is always next to the speaker. And like a car wash, it's not like this spray tan comes at you silently. It comes at you full force. Like, you know it's happening when it's happening. So anyway. They have this posted hanging on the wall that you can peek at in between sprays, if you dare. Round 1 went well. Round 2 went just as well as round 1 since I didn't exactly move. Round 3 was fine, and round 4 was fine. I think. I'm not exactly sure I did any of the rounds correctly since I couldn't see, couldn't hear and couldn't breathe. By the time I got out of my 1 minute of spray (40 seconds spray, 20 seconds drying), I.was.exhausted.

You would have never known I was a synchronized swimmer in college since I was gasping for air when I fell out of the booth. Holding your breath for TEN seconds whilst standing upright having colored spray shoot at you (this sounds gross) is a lot harder than one would think. I also got nervous because I was still dripping. And I should not have been. My front was full on dripping from excess spray tan. So there, in all my nakey glory, I had a great internal battle. Did I pat myself dry with the provided towel and risk splotches? Or did I just shimmy around in hopes of air drying working at the speed of lightining? So I did what anyone would do in that sitch. I shimmed while patting. Then I put my clothes on, went back out and waited while Carey got her tan on.

The thing about these spray tans though is that you have to play the waiting game. It doesn't usually kick in for a good six hours. I always get so excited to see what I look like when I wake up...

If you think I may have turned out like Ross when he got his front sprayed twice, then you'd be pretty close to correct.

Have you ever tried to be serious when you look like you've been playing in the mud? I bet not. Because most people don't play in the mud before coming to work.

Birthdizzy Recap One

My 29th Birthdizzy came and went with only a few hiccups. I mean, let's face it. When do I ever not have the hiccups? The celebrations started with some emails flying around about what Nikki, Katie and I were going to do to celebrate. It was decided we would visit the Aviator Brewery and then finish the night off with a corn maze (thereby staying away from all the hoe bags downtown celebrating Halloween). I think it's important to note here that we all made fun of, more than once, the people who got lost in the corn maze and called the police. I'm pretty sure the thought "who gets lost in a corn maze? we can gps our way outta that shit" was shared by all. in writing. I think it's also important to note that it took us a good hour and a half to get to a brewery 35 minutes away. No one really knew where we were going, and I, the resident non beer drinker, was the driver. My only saving grace is that I have FL plates still, so people are a little more understanding when I cut them off. Everyone knows people from FL can't drive anyway. Nikki had one set of directions, I had another and Katie just sat in the back laughing. We managed to pass a building with the Aviator sign on the outside, so we stopped, went inside and walked right out the other door. We looked pretty dumb since this was clearly NOT the brewery and we were discussing the brew tour as we walked in one door and right out the other (kind of like selective hearing. only not). After driving aimlessly around the outskirts of Raleigh, we finally found the brewery. Now, don't let these two fool you. Oh sure, they're both real cute and real funny. But they are sneaky. I mean, I'm still trying to figure out how they convinced me to go to a brewery for approximately 3 hours. I don't even drink beer! But I cannot tell a lie. I sampled the fall beer, and although it took me the same amount of time to drink 1 beer that it took them to drink 37, it wasn't all that bad. Plus, we did actually do the brewery tour and I learned just how scientific the beer making process is (and just how cute the brew master is). Also, please note my pretty pink coat. It didn't take long before I had plopped my arm down into a puddle of beer on the counter.

After the brewery, we went back up the road to the aforementioned building for supper. Whilst at the brewery, we learned that was their tap room and after 3 hours of drinking barley and oats, we were hongry. plus, we had a coupon for free fried pickles from the brewery. So off we went. We all ordered what turned out to be THE spiciest burgers of our LIVES and mac and cheese. There was live music, some cougars dancing away, and all in all a good vibe. So much so that we switched to wine. At the brewery tap house. it made sense at the time. However, I am sad to report that we didn't get to really enjoy our food and spirits because we were late. for a very important date. with the corn maze.

only, we never found the corn maze. wait. that's a false truth. we did eventually find it. but it was after it was closed. we drove around and around, through multiple counties even, looking for the stinkin corn maze, only to find it when we were headed towards the interstate on the way back home. When we did find it, they told us we were too late to go in the maze, but we were welcome to experience the haunted woods. Now. this was a DIE-lemma. We had all 3 said over email that we didn't want to be scared. but then we got there. And since we all felt like we needed to check our college diplomas to make sure we really had them, we were torn (well, Nikki and I were. Katie wasn't torn at all) on whether or not we should make the trip worth while and visit the haunted maze. I mean. Here were 3 girls who had made so much fun of the dummies who got lost in the corn maze and we couldn't even make it to the corn maze. So, shouldn't we grow a pair and visit the haunted woods? You would think this answer would come easy.

I asked them what they wanted to do. Nikki stayed silent. Katie told me she wanted to live.
I told them if we did this, I'd have to grab onto one of them. Katie told me she'd be grabbing onto herself.
Nikki listened for a minute then informed us that the haunted woods were so deep into the woods, you couldn't hear anything.
We asked strangers walking past the car if we should go. They all said yes. We were undecided. So we decided to play "what would our mothers tell us to do?" All of our mothers would have told us not to go.
Nikki remembered she had an 8 ball app on her iphone. So we asked the 8 ball if we should go. It told us it was doubtful.

So we 3 didn't go into the haunted woods. Or the corn maze. But, the night wasn't a total bust. Nikki and Katie surprised me with a singing Justin Bieber toothbrush and some cupcakes. I wish I could explain to you adequately how great the day was. I honestly don't remember when I've laughed that hard. However, I will say that I'm not sure the 8 ball was a fair judge of what we should have done. We asked it if one of us (who shall remain unnamed since I'm not sure how she feels about the topic) was going to get lucky at the rest stop the next day. It told us it was doubtful and while she didn't get lucky at the rest stop per say, she did get lucky. So, the 8 ball was wrong.

We probably should have gone into those haunted woods. Dammit.

community is the theme

this past weekend was spent with 24 other young adults from my church in a giant house on the lake in the boonies of north cackalack. and in true, second home style, this one boasted some interesting decor, furnishings and design (not to mention the fact that the room i stayed in had 4 or 5 double beds. like an orphanage). I have supplied some images to enhance your abilities at imagining this estate. please note: i failed to snap any pics of the elevator, which is odd since i actually spent a fair amount of time in it (and yes, you can bet i shared the story of the time i got kicked out of the food elevator at the bar in charlotte).


we'll start with the bidet. everyone knows these are only found in the most luxurious of bathrooms. and since they provide gentle cleansing (seriously. please google bidet), i'm sure it got quite a workout this weekend.

now. just in case you thought luxury stops with bidets, you should probably consider thinking again. for now, luxury comes in the form of a urinal, right next to granite counter tops. and no ma'am, you are not at the rest stop in warsaw, nc.

the basement was extra curious to me, and proof that i watch too much criminal minds. in addition to the full service kitchen and billiards room that made up the basement, there was a corner room, all cinder block of course, with twin beds, a freezer and a work table. none of this sounds strange until you take a moment to really look at some of the aforementioned items:

Notice the pad lock? Obviously the only things that could be worth locking up in a cinder block room are frozen body parts. and see that door? there are two pieces of wood on the right side that swing over and latch into that piece of wood on the left. you know, so not only do you lock the door but you also barricade yourself in while you're chopping people up on the work table.


in the attic I found only a bassinet. nothing at all creepy about that.

and last, but most definitely not least, my two fave decorative items in the entire house:

a tee tiny porcelian toilet. too big for a doll house, yet not big enough for a real house. it's only practical use is to hold your cleaner wipes. and maybe a roll of toilet paper here and there. and then of course we can't forget the donkey with the giant schlong. make of that what you will.

i can't wait until i have a second home. people tell me i'm weird now. just you wait until i hit it big.

that's a bunch of baloney

I want everyone to study this picture closely. You will find the following facts to be true: my dad was the August winner at Jersey Mike's. He's holding a box of Jersey Mike's subs. And he's giving the peace sign. Now, clearly my dad is a lucky dude. Do you know how awesome I would feel if I had won lunch from Jersey Mike's? Do you know how awesome I would feel if I won anything AT ALL, ever?

But, I want to talk about this peace sign that he's holding up. At my birthdizzy dinner on Tuesday, I told him that I was ashamed to see my dad had given the peace sign. That he didn't really look like a hippie in his tie. And besides that, who even gives the peace sign anymore. He went on to tell me how the hippies stole the peace sign, that it really was Winston Churchill's sign for Victory in WW2. I said "dad. That is the universal sign for hippies and it means peace." He said "That is a bunch of baloney! It stands for Victory!"

Yes. you read that right. My dad gave the peace sign in his Jersey Mike's winner picture because Winston Churchill gave it for Victory 65 years ago. My dad wasn't even born when ole Winston was passing out his victory sign. Yet here is my dad, in 2011, passing it out again.

I consider myself smart. I mean, I know who Winston Churchill is. I understand how big of a deal the war was. But that my friends is a peace sign. There is no way around it except to say that my dad threw up the peace sign when he picked up his box o'sammies. He might as well have had a text bubble above his head that said "yo! peace in the middle east to all my homies!"

Mom felt my bewilderment because she went on to tell the story of how at a dinner party years ago, everyone had to put the name of someone famous on a sticky note and then people had to guess who they were. Dad wrote down Chesty Pulley. I said "who the heck is Chesty Pulley?" Mom said "that's what everyone at that party said. Except your way is much nicer than what they said." Dad started laughing and said "oh come on Meredith. Chesty Pulley was a famous Marine. Everyone knows that."

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stupids club. Because I bet none of you knew who Chesty Pulley was either.