I Think I'm Weird

I downloaded an assortment of songs from iTunes last night with the gift card that the Easter Bunny brought me. One of those songs is "Wedding Bell Blues" by The 5th Dimension (aka "Will You Marry Me, Bill"). It takes me back to a great Gilmore Girls episode...and back a bit more to when I used to pretend I was going to marry Bill Hemmer and play this song at our wedding.

On a less strange note, I did finally track down the awesome song from the Sex and the City promo for the last season, the one where Carrie is strutting across the bridge carrying red balloons. It's a cover of an old Betty Hutton song, "It's Oh So Quiet" by Bjork. Betty's version is "Blow a Fuse."

I also picked up a little Louis Armstrong, Chantal Kreviazuk, Imogen Heap, and the Fugees. Guess I'm feeling a little nostalgic. All in all, a productive evening.

Happy Easter

Interestingly enough, my sister and I did not coordinate these coats. Three different people frantically waved at me at church, though, thinking I was Laurie.

P.S. My brother's belt buckle is engraved with his monogram. Most of you will appreciate this. And yes, Sean has one too. And my dad. My dad's shirt is also monogrammed on the cuff, a la Brooks Brothers. And there might be a few guys wearing monogrammed boxers. TMI?

Irrational Fear?

I have this panicky feeling every time I go to flush the toilet at work. I'm really paranoid about plunging my foot right into the toilet bowl. Like, when I go to push down the flusher-thingy with my foot (because Lord knows I don't do it with my hand), I lean against the stall wall to brace myself so I don't lose balance and drop my toes right into the water. Ew.

And yes. This fear only manifested itself after I almost did this. Twice.

My Suspicious Dad

So, this is a great story. My mom called this morning to tell me that we are having BBQ at my grandmother's house for Easter and also that my father was pulled over last night as a suspect in an armed robbery.

Wait, what?

Yeah, seems three armed men robbed a gas station in Columbus last night, and officers were pulling over all dark-colored SUVs along Moon Road, where my dad just happened to be traveling on his way home from the gym.

Tee hee.

They used sirens AND a big spotlight.

It doesn't get any more dramatic from there, folks. My dad didn't fit the description, just his car.

Sigh. My life is so boring.

Duck!

Last night I was folding tons of laundry, and I went to shake a T-shirt straight before I folded it. I gave it a big snap in the air, and, next thing I know, something bounced off my head and fell behind me. I screamed, I ducked. I ran my hands through my head to make sure it was out. I grabbed my shoe and spun around, ready to squash the snake. Or mouse. Or roach.

But all I saw was an errant sock that had somehow lodged itself inside the T-shirt until I so rudely shook it out.

And then I died of embarrassment.

Old Hollywood Glamour Party for Miss GA

Sleeping In

I have never in my life forgotten to change the clocks. Ever. I have a great track record. But last weekend, my streak was abruptly broken. We had every intention of going to church, so I set my alarm clock Saturday night and had sweet dreams.

Sometime around 7 or so (which was actually 8 or so), Sean got up to go watch some Tivo from the couch because he "couldn't sleep." That's code for "my lovely lady of a wife was snoring." What? Oh, please. You probably do too.

About 8:54 he comes running into the room to tell me I've overslept, but then he sees my alarm clock and says, "Oh, I must've read the clock on the TV wrong. Sorry." I huffed and puffed and indignantly rolled out of bed five minutes early, and got in the shower.

Just as I got out, Sean started banging on the door and announced that we weren't going. Because church started in 10 minutes. Even then it took me a few minutes to get it. Oops.

Car Lust

Yeah, yeah. I know it's expensive. And not eco-friendly. A total indulgence. Overpriced and maybe even overrated. Maybe. But I want a Range Rover SO so badly. I think silver, because that still works with the color scheme on football weekends. (Silver britches, anyone?) I made Sean promise me that he'd buy me one some day, long before he saw me lusting after one on Kelly Blue Book and saw the price tag. (I'm WAY into cars, but him, not so much. He didn't realize how steep the price tag is.) I'll even take a Range Rover Sport. That knocks a good $20K off the price tag.

I'm so generous.



I should probably just settle for a shiny poster.

Any of your favorites?

Click

I've always wondered why people on TV don't say "goodbye" at the end of their phone conversations. Do you notice this? Last night I was watching reruns of Sex in the City, and Carrie called Big in San Francisco to tell him that she was back with Berger (the breaek-up by Post-It note guy).

They have a very flirty convo, and then, Big says, "Call me anytime, any kind of call you want." And, um, he just hangs up. And SJP hangs up too. Me? I'd be all, "Hello? Um, are you there? Hello?" Because I end my conversations with, "goodbye." Or at least "see ya." Something.

Chunky Monkey

Last Friday night my mom fried chicken for my dad's birthday, and my grandmother came over for dinner. At some point the conversation turned to chubby babies, and then my parents started discussing the birth weights of my brother, sister, and me. I was the fattest, and my parents tell this ridiculously made up story of how my legs were so fat that they didn't discover a dime-size birthmark on the inside of my right thigh for several weeks because it was rolled up in my fat.

Okay. That story is true.

I was a chunk, no doubt, and because we lived in California, my grandparents didn't meet me until Christmas 1978, when I was about 4 months old. So, yeah, I was even bigger. But last weekend, when I looked to my sweet Grams to defend me, she just smiled sheepishly and said, "Well, Steph, you were kinda heavy."

Prisoners Say the Darndest Things

When I got back to my hotel room in Atlanta Monday night, I flipped on the TV and ended up on some kind of true-life prison show just in time to catch this one cocky crook's life story. He was mid-explanation about something or other that required this description.

"He wasn't no midget or nothing, just a littler person, ya know?"

And then I got sucked in for an hour.

Peace, Y'all

Look at Marilyn and Eric's sweet new baby, Elliott Monroe. He flashed us a peace sign when we went to visit the other day.

A Better Celeb Sighting

Tonight Katie, Luke, and I went to Joshilyn Jackson's book signing. She was super nice! I'm so excited to read her new book, The Girl Who Stopped Swimming. She also wrote Gods in Alabama (awesome) and Between, Georgia (loved it).

Test Your Gag Reflex

A man in India is trying to break the world record for cutting the most hair.

With his mouth.

That's right, I guess he's just eating the hair off this poor woman's head. To set a record.

Now, how many of you lost your Cheerios?

More War Stories From the Road

Sheesh. Yesterday traffic into work was a little backed up. That's because the incredibly intelligent folks over at the Alabama DOT had people walking in between cars at a stoplight on Hwy. 280 passing out surveys or something. I don't know exactly what they were because I refused to take one. You can't mail something to people? I can't imagine that I would just say "okay" if my boss told me to park myself on the road beside the Summit at lunchtime and pass paper out to drivers. It would be something more along the lines of, "I quit."

UPDATE: OMG, they were at it again last night! Traffic was backed up as far as I could see at 7:30, so I made a U turn and took a shortcut home. Thirty minutes later, as I approached my turn, I saw flashing lights and several DOT vehicles. Those idiots were passing out surveys again in the pitch blackness of the evening. I was fuming. You really had to see how bad this screwed up traffic to understand. Plus, this cannot be safe. I almost ran one of them over just to prove my point.

Beware of the Shriners

On the way to Athens Monday I saw a bunch of Shriners collecting change from drivers who were stopped at a red light. I'm not a fan of this; there must be a safer way. But these men are sweet and harmless. So I think.

The man in the car in front of me, however, clearly doesn't trust them. Before he could get his car to a complete stop, he was already turned half around, stretching across the back seat to lock his son's car door.

I'm all about protecting kids from harm. But a Shriner?

Spontaneous Combustion

I was stuck in traffic in Atlanta due to a lane being closed. When I approached the area of concern, I saw a bunch of workmen and a sign that said, "Caution: Gas Leak." Okay, um, that freaked me out a little. But not quite as much as when the man in the car in front of me rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. I literally unlocked my car doors and put my hand on the handle in case I had to run. Fast.

I'll Leave You With This

Today, on my ride down from the 20th floor of the Midtown Atlanta Ritz-Carlton, the elevator stopped on the 17th floor.

And Al Sharpton stepped in. He did not return my slight smile and nod, but rather stared smugly ahead as he walked in. He looks the same in person as he does on t.v., only slightly smaller. He seems mean. His minion, carrying two laptop-size bags, smiled and said hello before calling someone on a cell phone to report, "We're on our way down."

Around the fifth floor, Al's cell phone rang.

He has a dumb ringtone. So there.

P.S. They did both step back and let me and my overstuffed Vera Bradley bags off the elevator first.

Stay With Me, Readers

Been sick and out of town, but I'll be back tomorrow night. I promise. Several things to blog about.