Hello, Posh, Sir

Well I got a hair cut Wednesday during lunch, and I think it's a teeny bit short. I know that in a week or so it will be grown in better, and my hair grows super-fast anyway, but for now I'm feeling a little less Posh Spice, a little more Boy Posh. I don't think we need a photo here because I feel a little odd about taking another shot of myself and my hair, but I'm just sayin'.

Totally unrelated: While I'm still enamored with After Dark in Lincoln Park, you really can't lapse on the pedicures with this color. It starts to chip and it's really noticeable and then it looks like Britney Spears's nails always do: nasty.

Seat Belt Chafing

My only complaint about my (sort of) new car is the seat belt. It is attached to the seat, not the side of the car, so it can't be adjusted, and the edge of it rubs my neck. It really kind of hurts. I usually just stretch my shirt up over my neck, which looks ridiculous but stops the pain.

Not anymore.

Yesterday on the way back to work after lunch, I saw an old couple driving by in their Caddy. The old lady had this big pad/cushion thing that wrapped around her seat belt, preventing it from cutting into her neck.

Brilliant. Wouldn't I look so cool with one of those? Anybody know where to buy old-people car accessories? No telling what else is out there! And I'm totally sure I could get it monogrammed. Score.

Boys Are Weird

Last night we went to a party for a friend. Somehow Sean and two other guys started talking about losing weight and, before I knew it, they had hammered out a little bet. They are weighing in this Monday. The next weigh-in will be January 7, I think, and they are judging by percentage of weight lost, not actual pounds.

The winner gets dinner for himself and his spouse, paid for by the two losers who didn't lose quite enough. I have no problem with this bet because, either way, I'm going out with friends.

But here's the kicker. They were going to weigh in after church this Sunday, and one of the guys was bringing a scale with him. This in itself was funny enough, but now one guy won't be there on Sunday, so they are meeting at a BP station Monday morning and bringing the scale. I swear, I've really got to go so I can get a photo of this.

Surely there is an easier way.

Solicitation

Yesterday I stopped at a gas station by Wildwood (an area down the road from work) before heading over to The Hob to kill time before a party I was going to. I pretty much know to avoid Wildwood after dark, especially Wal-Mart (or during the day, for that matter), but it was only 6:15 and still light out. Besides, I was running on fumes so I really had no choice.

Anyway, as I swiped my debit card, I could hear this lady on the other side of my pump telling some mumbling dude, "No." And then, with an overwhelming feeling of dread, I realized the dude was asking for money. Except he was pretending he wasn't. He approached me next, and his first statement was, "I'm not asking for any money." But he did want me to pump gas into his Buick while he washed my windshield. Okay? Because that's different from flat-out asking, I suppose.

I said no. And I sort of feel bad because he was young and seemed innocent and he really did have a Buick at a pump nearby—and he gave me a "God bless you, ma'am" even after I said no. But I just didn't believe him. What? He got all the to the pump and suddenly realized he was out of gas and money? I don't think so. After he walked away I heard some lady with an accent yelling, "I call the police!" But I didn't see her and I don't know who she was yelling at. The next person the dude approached clearly had a heart, and he got a few dollars.

I clicked off the pump at $15 and drove to the safety of the crafts store. And, yeah, I checked the rearview mirror. Twice.

Ouch, That Was Flesh

Today I snipped my skin with a pair of scissors. It really hurt! But it didn't even draw blood, so I feel a little bit like a weenie. I might wear a Band-Aid just for show. It sure felt like there should have been blood.

Oh, and I have a little blister on my thumb, from flicking my cigarette lighter so many times. Don't worry, I'm not a smoker. I was burning the ends of ribbon to avoid fraying. I did put a Band-Aid on that.

I'm such a wuss.

My Monogrammed Car

I finally got my decal on. Ha ha. Some of you probably think I've finally gone over the edge, but I love it! I hope it isn't crooked; I put the sticker on straight (I'm so anal about this), but the monogram font itself isn't straight, so I think it looks like it's supposed to. These are all over my hometown now, but I think I'm the first in B'ham. A trendsetter, I am. So, here's a close-up and one a little farther back. (Did I use that correctly? I have a hard time with "further" and "farther.")

Notice the Bill Heard sign is crooked. I actually lose sleep over this. I mean, how hard can it be to stick that thing on straight?

GO DAWGS!

Here we go. It seems like everyone in town is heading to Tuscaloosa today. My brother and his friend spent last night with us, and they are heading down there now. The UGA team stayed up the street from us. I wish I'd remembered this last night because I would have made plans to stalk them. I'm watching the game from the privacy (and enemy-free safety) of my own home. There will probably be pizza. Don't call me after 6:45pm.

Thought of Another Time

I've had one other bad experience with a truck driver. On my way back to school once, I was stuck in some traffic just north of Atlanta. I needed to get over because my lane was going to close, so I put on my blinker. There was an open spot and I had a fairly small car, so I slid in. Well, evidently some trucker was waiting to get in that spot, and he thought I took it from him on purpose. My sunroof was open, and he hung out that truck window and starting cussing me up and down. It was actually very terrifying. I got mad and called, who else, my dad. He told me to get him the truck company's number. So I made a big production of pulling alongside this guy in traffic (sunroof now closed) and pulling out my pen and paper with a flourish. I wrote down a number from the mudflaps.

My dad called the number and lit in to some supervisor about what had happened. After he took a breath, the guy on the other line said, "Sir, we just manufacture the mudflaps for that trucking company, but I'm very sorry for what happened. Is your daughter okay?" Ha ha. Oops.

A Semi Tried to Run Me Over

That's right. Heading home last night, I was in a far left lane to turn, you guessed it, left. There was a semi next to me, also turning left. When the light changed (you can see where this is going), we both turned. But before I could get very far going straight, the truck was moving over to my lane. There's no way the driver thought he had room to do this. I was right beside him. He was coming over at an angle, and I was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid being hit by the entire back half of his truck. I was so mad (and scared). I laid on the horn, and as I passed him, he looked at me, and then pulled on the cord to honk his horn. Whatev, dude. I know he didn't. Then he started YELLING at me. I couldn't hear what he said, but I had to sit next to him at another red light waiting to get on I65. Then I hightailed it outta there.

Muchos Tacos, Por Favor

Last night we went to Taco Casa for dinner. We walked in just in time to hear the guy behind the counter give this really young couple their total: $73 and some change.

Excuse me?

I remember being a little shocked when a male coworker went to lunch with us girls a few years ago and his total was $12. I mean, TC is a place where you can order lunch and get change from your $5.

Back to my story. These people had ordered 75 tacos. Seventy-five tacos. Unbelievable. Such bad timing. And, oh Lord, she was paying with cash and a credit card. But it gets worse.

We sat down and waited TWENTY minutes (this is fast food, people)! Finally we stopped talking long enough to look around and realize the 75-tacos couple was gone, and another couple who came in after us was throwing away their trash. And another man at the counter was getting his to-go order.

They lost our order. But we got a free bag of sopapillas, so I got over it.

Showering the Babies

We had a baby shower for Julia last week. It was a lot of fun and, as always, we had great food. Here are a few pictures. I kind of hogged Luke the whole time but I just couldn't help it. The kid loves me. And don't you worry about that mullet. I'm getting my hair cut next Thursday. And here is a picture of me, Julia, and Layton. He's really excited about becoming a big brother! And, of course, a shot of our two newest moms: Libby with Jack and Katie with Luke.

A Couple Photos

These are from the new camera. Here are Laurie and I at the UGA/South Carolina game and Laurie, Zach, and I at the beach. I haven't really taken too many pictures yet, but this is to prove that I did get a camera for my birthday!

Oh, Mindy. What Happened?

Poor Mindy McCready. Just a few years ago she was topping the country music charts and engaged to Dean Cain. She seemed so sweet and cute.

Then, a bunch of crap happened. And her crazy boyfriend/baby daddy tried to kill her.

And now she's going to prison for one year. She violated her probation, which stemmed from a little prescription she forged back in 2004. Girlfriend looks rough too. Just check out her mug on TMZ.

She needs 10,000 angels. (Remember that song?)

Return of the Rednecks

Oh I can't believe I keep forgetting to post about this.

At the beach a couple of weeks ago, my family and I had an unfortunate view of the ickiest makeout session ever. This couple was total redneck all the way. Here's why.

1. She sported the requisite bleached blonde hair with extra dark roots, curly in a way that says, "I've been letting my perm grow out for a good six months." (I seriously think this must cost extra because what hairstylist in her right mind lets someone walk out looking like this?) And why do these women always pull their hair in a too-high ponytail and secure it with a scrunchie? A scrunchie?

2. He had the permed mullet going on.

3. They were both enjoying a beer wrapped in one of those NASCAR koozies that's shaped like a bottle and zips up the side. Neon orange.

4. He was way skinny and favored cut-off blue jean shorts instead of a bathing suit. Okay, this is never a good look, guys. Ever.

5. She was much plumper, definitely too plump for that skin-baring bikini she wore. But the enormous tattoo on her forearm was lovely.

6. They were for real making out in the pool. And she had her legs wrapped around him.

I hope you all ate dinner before you read this post. And I hope that dinner is still in your stomach. Just imagine the live show.

New Nail Polish

Random little post. I got a pedicure Thursday night, and I went with a totally different color than usual. I always get OPI Dutch Tulips, a nice red-pink color, but I've really been wanting to try one of the purplish-black colors. Only on my toes, though. I don't need that rock-star look on my hands. With a little help from Sara, I picked OPI After Dark in Lincoln Park. I love it!

I was going to take a picture and post for you guys to see, but then I decided a photo of my toes was kind of gross. Yes?

Hair Die

This happened to me a few weeks ago while I was in Columbus. I went to Wal-mart to return something. I pulled into a parking space, got out of the car, and walked around to the other side to get out my return. And there I saw it. I was parked on top of someone's really bad wig/weave/something. I'm talking Britney bad. I mean, how does one lose a whole head of hair in the parking lot and not even notice. And, also, how did it happen? Was there a big girl fight over something from the bargain bin? And how come no one grabbed this poor girl's hair for her?

I'm SO Fired

Okay, to appease my friends (Katie!) who are giving me such a hard time, I'm posting at work. I'll probably lose my job, but at least my blog readers will be happy. Priority number one, no?

Before we went to the game in Athens on Saturday, we stopped at a clothing store in Atlanta. It was the first anniversary of the shop's opening, so the owner had cupcakes, Champagne, and 15% off all day. There are only two dressing rooms and there was a long wait, so my sister and I went in together. I had just gotten a little plastic cup of Champagne, and as I walked into the dressing room, I dumped some of it down my shirt. Nice. I smelled like I'd already been tailgating for hours.

Anyway, finished trying on the clothes, decided what I wanted to purchase, and as I was walking out of the dressing room, I turned the cup upside down and spilled the rest of the Champagne. OMG. I looked like a total drunk! But I never actually drank anything.

Likely story, those shoppers probably thought.

That's all for now. Sniff. I think I'm getting a cold.

Ready for Kick-off

We sold our tickets and are watching the UGA/OK State game down here. We're not even going out for seafood tonight. It's pizza at Frankie D's across the street, then back to our respective condos. We have to eat at, like, 5:00. That way, in case we, well, you know, don't win, we don't have to get out and see people. I'm serious.

We don't mingle for the games. The Rickey Gibsons and the Ken Gibsons (my dad & family and my uncle & family) do not watch with other people, especially if there are children present. We need quiet. We have to focus. And we have to stay away from those other members of our family, otherwise known as Auburn fans. Mostly they married in. I have one cousin who is a defector, and she's taking her two kids down with her. Oh, and my cousin's new girlfriend graduated from Florida. Boo. Hiss. Strike one. She better work hard to make up for that one.

Yes, We're ALL Together

I'm at the beach again, this time with TWENTY-SEVEN members of my family. Yes, we are that family. Four siblings and their spouses; eight adult cousins plus various spouses, boyfriends, and girlfriends; and six children. We are a sight. We're obnoxious to other people, I'm sure, but it's so fun. Because I'm childless, I thought it was a good idea to loan out my two spray bottles to the kids. We're very loud, and we all like goofing off in the pool. You know, we toss in kids, dunk adults, and push in anyone at the perimeter. We jump waves together in the ocean. My poor grandmother feels sure someone is going to get eaten by a shark. The kids are hopped up on sugar and the football smack talk is going strong.

And my oldest cousin brought his new girlfriend and her 3-year-old son. Bless her heart. I hope she's still around at Christmastime. We've had quite a few first-timers. Lots of them don't come back.

And I hope no one sees us mercilessly tossing little children into the pool and calls DFCS (dee-fax, as we Georgians say). Because the best argument probably isn't that the kids started it. Hey, they know how to swim. We're not that cruel.