Everybody who's anybody knows Leah

Leah stopped by today so we could exchange Christmas presents. She embroidered one of my favorite phrases on a T-shirt. Everyone who knows me well has heard me use it. Often. I have it on a sticker on my bulletin board:



And now I have it on my apparel. Behold:



Even her gift tag was hilarious. I need these:



And if you don't know Leah, well, then, too bad for you. Because included with my T-shirt were fudge and homemade sea salt caramels. Mmmm.



These are definitely going to cause a problem at my house.

Thanks, Leah!!

Is this tacky?

Because I want one. In the worst kind of way.

Hold on to your pants—it's about to get white trashier.

I think this would look AWESOME on the front of my car! Yes? YES!

Sadly, this festive work of art would set me back $95, and I have better things to do with that kind of money.

(Like buy enough Little Debbie Chocolate Christmas Tree Cakes to carry me through till holiday season 2010.)

(Or I could get my oil changed and buy new wiper blades.)

Oh, yes. 'Tis the season!

I'm having a very merry 80s night.

I just downloaded this.

I'm a little embarrassed for myself.



Oh, wait. No I'm not. I just wish I had one of those little plastic mics like the toddlers have because there is a straight-up concert going on up in my house.

All I want for Christmas…

…is this ring. (It's my birthstone! Totally practical.)


I don't mind if a few of you want to go in together for a group gift.

Merry Christmas!

Okay, what?

Nah-uh. Really? Does PETA know the luxuries that Uga is afforded? Bite me, PETA. You are all so dang ridiculous. Besides. We already have a person dressed up as a mascot. That'd be Hairy Dawg.

Giveaway at Lauren Nicole!

Enter through the blog to win this super-cute Fine Silver Preppy Whale Key Chain. Hurry, contest ends at midnight November 19!

What's in a name?

I'm sitting here on my sofa, drinking coffee and eating breakfast (leftover pan of cappuccino-frosted brownies), watching Gilmore Girls, and scrolling through my music on iTunes. And you know what? Artistic people are pretty freaking weird.

I found some WAY strange band names in my library. How do you think bands get their names? I have a few ideas, most of which involve late nights and illegal activities. How else can you explain these?

1. Death Cab for Cutie
2. Big Head Todd & The Monsters
3. Dashboard Confessional
4. Barenaked Ladies (no lady in the bunch)
5. Dexy's Midnight Runners
6. Garbage
7. Hootie and The Blowfish
8. The Killers
9. The Push Stars
10. Sha-Na-Na (courtesy of the Grease soundtrack)
11. The Spill Canvas
12. The Velvet Underground
13. The Weepies
14. Weezer
15. The 5th Dimension (who sings one of my very, very favorite songs ever thank you amen)
16. Band of Horses

I, of course, got curious about what else is out there (read: nosy), so I went on over to the Google and found The Canonical List of Weird Band Names. You can find it at Bright Lights Film if you want, but the tagline is "the peculiar & the profane," and trust me, some of them were profane. I'm not going to link to it, just hit up the trusty Google if you're interested.

Thanksgiving

No trash talk. But I am thankful for a favorable outcome of Saturday's game. And I would very respectfully like to say "GO DAWGS!"


Most recent game photos start with #34.

Give me a break. It's been a sad little season.

Brad Pitt makes me wanna puke

That's pretty much all I have to say.

Sorry I've been MIA

I should have plenty of time to blog now that I am unemployed. Ha.

I've started a new blog as an outlet for my design hobby and ridiculous love affair with beautiful images of home decor. Check it out here.

And lest you think crazy stuff is no longer happening to me, I'll leave you with this quick story.

I went to Publix last night to pick up a few things for Saturday's tailgate. I needed quite a few spices for the rib rub, and I was delighted (that's right, delighted) to see that a particular brand was buy one, get one free. I couldn't find this brand on the spice aisle, but after double-checking the flier I saw the spices were located in the produce department.

I pushed my buggy on over where I spent a good 10 minutes circling around, getting more and more frustrated that I couldn't find what I needed. I was just about to ask someone why the spices were not, in fact, located in the produce department when I realized that I was fruitlessly searching in the freaking meat department.

(I did finally find a nice big basket o' spices to search through, right between the limes and clementines. In the produce department.)

Please stop saying…

"That's a whole different ball of wax."

It makes me think of disgusting ear wax. Right? Right. And what does that even mean? See, it's stupid.

Don't say it anymore.

I tried to find a photo for this post on Google Images. Boy was that a mistake.

Friday funnies

Two of my current favorite t-shirts. Should I be cracking up this much? Nevermind, don't tell me. The belly laugh feels good.

Just try not to laugh

Oh. Fancy me.

May I toot my own horn for a minute? (Don't you think that's just the cheesiest expression? No? Just me? Guess I'm 12.)

Anyway, while working on a new project to (hopefully) be unveiled at a sooner-rather-than-later time, I was Googling "plates on the wall" and ran across a familiar photo. The link beneath the photo took me to Apartment Therapy, which I love. And imagine my surprise when I saw that the good folks at AT had chosen a story I wrote for The Magazine to link in their blog. Woot!

Here 'tis. (Mine's the blue-and-white bathroom, shot in my favorite Texas town, McKinney.)

Toot, toot. (Sorry. Couldn't help myself.)

Highlight of my Friday night

Don't you wish this was your job?

Bust a move

I know you've all seen the recent deluge of coordinated wedding dances on YouTube. I even posted one here. They're funny, for sure. But for me, nothing will ever top the Everybody Loves Raymond episode where Robert and Amy get married and break it down to an Elvis song.



Side note: I hate Everybody Loves Raymond. I used to watch it some but the longer I watched, the meaner everyone got—to the point that watching the show just made me sad. Poor Raymond. Debra was, like, the most evil wife ever. EVER!

Anyway.

I laughed out loud the first time I saw this, and the other night I happened to catch the rerun. I am SO doing this. Now accepting old-school song and dance move suggestions. (I'm counting on a little Roger Rabbit action.) I guess I'll be up-front with my next boyfriend, too, just in case he tries to play the "I'm not a dancer" card. (Guys who don't—or won't—dance really aggravate me, p.s.) Or wait. Will mentioning our future wedding reception dance be a bit awkward for first-date convo? Please advise.

Adult toys

Get your minds out of the gutter. This post is rated G. For Genius.

Let's back up. Some time ago I placed an order through a friend's child for his school fundraiser. I opted for a roll of super-cute, preppy pink-and-green plaid wrapping paper and a kitchen tool. (More later.) That was back in … September? No clue. Purchase forgotten.

So, last week I stayed with my friend Mindy while her husband was out of town. After she put the kids to bed, we got ready for an adults-only dinner. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Chardonnay with gossip for dessert. When Mindy started making our sandwiches, she pulled out this nifty little peanut butter and jelly spatula. It is such a brilliant invention. Genius even. (See? See how I circled back around to my intro?) And then I remembered.

I totally bought one. That is the kitchen tool I ordered. And today, when I got to work, there it was waiting on my desk. I couldn't wait to get home for lunch. One utensil that will allow me to make my lunchtime PB&J without getting peanut butter in my strawberry jelly? Don't you judge me. (Call me easily amused? Sure.) I totally pushed away the leftover Thai to get to the jelly jar in the fridge. Check this thing out. Color-coded and everything.



Sweet. I'm pleased to report that the spatula is just as awesome as I hoped it would be. And, this time, when I licked the peanut butter off, I didn't cut my tongue like I'm prone to do on the knife.

Today was a good day.

Mad costume skillz

Me with Andrew, who evidently had a mouthful of food when this was taken. Oops.

Oh, y'all.

Team UGA killed the costume competition for the UGA/Vandy game. Team UGA = my friend Jamie and me. There were phone calls. Texts. E-mails. Sketches (see below). Facebook exchanges. That's what you get when you combine a competitive dude and a dudette who loves a theme.

And in the end? So totally worth the effort. I gotta be honest, every piece of Andrew's costume was fantastic, but the crown jewel—for me—was the red-sequined chaps that we enlisted my mom to make. (Super huge thanks, Mom!) Wow. People stopped this man all over campus for photos. I take that as a sign of success. (Gotta give a big shout-out to Jamie for getting a Georgia jersey personalized. Awesome.) In addition there was:

1. Sunglasses with UGA holograms on each eye, a G and a bulldog
2. Matching tattoos beneath the glasses, a G on one cheek, bulldog on the other
3. Cowboy hat
4. UGA lei
5. UGA mock turtleneck beneath the jersey
6. Spirit beads and a pom-pom

Go here to see the entire presentation in photos.


Jamie's sweet sketch

Performance = Perfection

You all, of course, remember this.

So it's only fair that I deliver to you this:


I don't know what my favorite part is. Jamie demanding more noise from the crowd in the very beginning. Jamie playing air keyboard. Jamie shaking his groove thang at the camera. Jamie hitting the high note at the end. I've watched and watched and watched some more. I love this video. It makes me happy (and also really sad that Lonnie's closed its doors for good this very night). I now listen to "Take On Me" at least twice a day because it reminds me of this incredibly spectacular weekend we all had. Photos here if you're interested.

Feel free to leave praise and adoring comments for Jamie Jones. He loves that kind of thing. (Right, Jamie?)

(Thank you to Jen for loading her video on YouTube because mine didn't turn out.)

Baylor Gibson Hudlow is here!

And if you want to take food to Lynlee and Kyle, click here. They will be most appreciative!

Cleaning house

Y'all know that jewelry that I sell? Well, I'm ready to unload a few samples of pieces that are being discontinued. Pictures and prices below, $5 shipping (or I'll deliver to the Birmingham area), no tax. Leave a comment or email me if you're interested (sgmims at gmail dot com).


Necklace regular price $59, sale price $40


Charm regular price $34, sale price $23


Bracelet regular price $29, sale price $20


Earrings regular price $39, sale price $28


Necklace regular price $79, sale price $40 SOLD


Necklace regular price $49, sale price $35


Bracelet regular price $59, sale price $30; bracelet can be attached to above gold necklace for a different look (see photo below). If you want the necklace and the bracelet together you can have them for $60.




Green onyx necklace regular price $198, sale price $98 SOLD


Necklace regular price $59, sale price $42 PLEASE NOTE ACTUAL COLOR BELOW

Trivia

What musician is against bathing?

Hint: His popular new song is "Say Hey."

Give up?

It's Michael Franti.

True story. Heard it on the radio. Now I ask you. What possible issue, moral or otherwise, might one have with bathing? I don't see that it's harmful. Or particularly controversial. I think bathing is good.

I'm against lots of things: schools with orange in their team colors; feathered mullets; turquoise cars; men who wax their eyebrows; fruit-flavored water (except for lime Perrier); people who don't like monograms; and body odor.

Know how you get body odor? By not bathing. Can you even imagine how badly this man smells? Shudder.

More blogging material from Macy's

I ran in to Macy's tonight because I was looking for a different size in a shirt that I bought. I needed to try it on, so I headed for the dressing rooms, passing a grandmother and a toddler on my way in.

I was just about to take off my shirt when I looked down and saw the toddler on the floor, peeking under the door, waving "hey, hey, hey." Ha ha. Um, I wasn't sure what to do, so I just stood there and waved back. I wasn't about to start changing in front of some random 3-year-old. That seemed wrong. After about five seconds I heard the grandmother calling for the little girl. I wanted to yell back, "Uh, your grandchild's in here, peeping under dressing room doors like a 13-year-old pervert," but I refrained cause perhaps that was a little harsh.

P.S. The shirt didn't work out. I wish I could shop as easily as guys can.

Overheard at Macy's

Store associate: Thanks so much, Kimberly. Have a good night.

Customer: Girl! I'm not Kimberly! I'm Kimberly's maker!

Ahhh ha ha ha. Evidently this woman was making a purchase for her daughter with the daughter's debit card. I have never ever heard a mother refer to herself as such, but now I want a kid so I can walk around saying that I'm someone's maker. Awesome.

Free stuff

We might not get fruit of the day anymore, but don't let anyone tell you my job doesn't come with perks.



Ryan kindly snatched these for me from the freebie bin today. Woot. I can't wait to pair them with some cream open-toed shoes.

In.

Photo: Dale Zanine, US PRESSWIRE

A pleasant exchange

And when I say "pleasant," I mean I'm 7 years old and it's Opposite Day.

This article really annoyed me last week. I almost never ever post comments to these kinds of things, but I am So. Over. this portrayal of the South as a big trailer park full of Dukes of Hazzard characters who wear only overalls and denim cutoffs.

So I said this:
Nice work, Bob. Because painting everyone who lives in the South as a bunch of classless rednecks isn't overdone at all. Sorry, but you totally phoned in this one, and your lack of creativity is, quite frankly, nothing but eye roll-inducing. Sincerely, A Georgia journalism grad who 1. Has all of her teeth 2. Frequents a restroom for personal needs 3. Does not and never has lived in a mobile home 4. Works for the 6th largest regional lifestyle magazine in the country, and knows how to represent herself with class and polish.

I actually thought my comment was rather polite (albeit snarky, yes), and the two comments following (one from the author himself) merely proved my point. Just because you live outside of the South doesn't guarantee you have half the class I possess in my left pinky.

Because, seriously:
Stephanie, Glad to read that you have all of your teeth. Where do you keep them, on your desk there at the 6th largest regional lifestlye magazine?
(This is from Bob Young. Too bad. He needs a copy editor.)

And then, from a delightful reader:
Let me translate: A Georgia journalism grad (she can color in between the lines) who 1. Has all of her teeth (all three of them) 2. Frequents a restroom for personal needs (like eating, sleeping, and living) 3. Does not and never has lived in a mobile home (she took the tires off last year) 4. Works for the 6th largest regional lifestyle magazine in the country, and knows how to represent herself with class and polish ('GunRacks and Open Containers Weekly'. It's very popular out there)
I'll refer this moron here. Nicest bathroom I've ever crashed in.

Ahh, welcome to soggy Sanford Stadium, Bob and Delightful Reader.

20-17.

Thanks for playing.

P.S. I wasn't trying to brag about where I work. I really just wanted him to know that such a publication existed in—gasp!—The South.

Note to new readers: See? I do have all my teeth, and I rarely scratch my armpits in public.

Harsh.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

Need your help

Which pillow arrangement do you prefer on my guest bed?

Option #1: Eyelash fabric pillow in front of floral lumbar pillow.


Option #2: Eyelash fabric pillow in front of Euro shams. (I'll need to get another pillow made but I have enough fabric leftover to do so.)


Option #3: Eyelash fabric pillow behind floral lumbar pillow.

Under construction

Getting a new look around here. I found this site last week and am just now getting around to changing a few things. Be patient! Y'all know how slow I am.

I've (not so patiently) waited over a year to post this

Don't worry, friends. It wasn't the diamond band.

Many thanks to my awesome friend and videographer Brooke.

Never, ever

Order for me. Ever. No way. Unless I am two seconds from wetting my pants and I yell over my shoulder as I run to the bathroom, "Hey, get me a sweet tea, k?" You may feel free to open doors for me and pop the tabs on my Dr. Pepper cans so I don't chip my Lincoln Park After Dark, but that'll do it. Ordering for me makes me feel like the third wife in some twisted Mormon polygamy hexagon. No thank you.

Public humiliation

I don't know. This wouldn't do it for me. Seems like more of a public cry for attention and pity than a true apology. And, also, if she hadn't cheated in the first place, she wouldn't be in this position. Yeah. No honk.

So proud to be an American

These are from a book called Disorder in the Court, true accounts of human stupidity. This stuff was actually said in court which simultaneously makes me want to laugh and cry. (My granddad sent these to me today via e-mail.)


Attorney: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
Witness: Yes.
Attorney: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
Witness: I forget.
Attorney: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?


Attorney: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
Witness: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

 
Attorney: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
Witness: He's twenty, much like your IQ.

 
Attorney: Were you present when your picture was taken?
Witness: Are you sh*tting me?


Attorney: She had three children, right?
Witness: Yes.
Attorney: How many were boys?
Witness: None.
Attorney: Were there any girls?
Witness: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?

 
Attorney: How was your first marriage terminated?
Witness: By death.
Attorney: And by whose death was it terminated?
Witness: Take a guess.


Attorney: ALL your responses MUST be oral, okay? What school did you go to?
Witness: Oral.

 
Attorney: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
Witness: Are you qualified to ask that question?

So uncalled for

I know you know. Everyone's talking about the Kanye-Taylor Swift incident. Too far this time, Kanye. Watch it here.

Another reason I love Georgia

Stuff like this happens there.

Welcome home!

Oh wow. Wow, wow, wow. My friend Emily sent this to me. She took the picture on Old Hwy. 64 in Western North Carolina. They even ripped off the font pretty well.

Laughing till my side hurts

Go here. Watch. You're welcome.

P.S. I have viewed this no fewer than 20 times tonight. No lie.

Let's do this!!!

I didn't forget Jones

I think he needs to wear this shirt while belting out "Take On Me." Right?! (Jamie's Amber Visions are way cooler than these shades though.)

Gold Sequins + Gladys Knight

When we descend upon Nashville in October for what will heretofore be referred to as The Greatest Road Trip Ever, it will not be without carefully orchestrated outfits and, yes, wardrobe changes (probably in the back of cabs). And sequins. Of course, we're a klassy group of gals, so we're not looking for head-to-toe sparkle. Alls we need is a little something so we shimmer just enough.

So please. Kindly offer your opinions. I present to you The Gold Sequin Options for our rendition of "Midnight Train to Georgia," to be performed during The Greatest Road Trip Ever. (We are currently working on choreography.)

(My personal pick is the gold-sequined newsboy hat.)

Birthday goodness (title for all my foodies)

JoAnn made my birthday cake for the work celebration this year. Chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting, straight from Barefoot Contessa. (Except the chopped Reese's Peanut Butter Cups garnish. All JoAnn.) Mmmm: Chocolate and peanut butter is my favorite combo. Go here, and make them for yourself. They were delish!

Dim Sum and Some Games

Leah threw another great party last night. Sorry if you weren't invited cause it was A for Awesome. Check out some photos here.

Grace

I fall a lot. Don't believe me?

Remember this? And this? Oh, and here. That was a good one. Wait! I have one more.

Oops. I did it again. I totally busted it as I was leaving work the other day. Confession: I was texting a co-worker about something urgent as I was walking down the stairs. Okay, okay. Full disclosure: I was texting Mary Elizabeth about pedicure plans. (It's not completely untrue. She IS a co-worker and I urgently needed to get my toes done.)

Anyway, I evidently missed a stair, slipped, and fell to the second-floor landing. Actually, I kind of skidded to the landing. Bruised ankle? Check. Bruised shin? Check. Bruised ego? Check.

Thankfully no one saw me, really, except for our sweet security guard who yelled out and jumped up from behind the desk to come help my crumpled self. But, no thank you, kind sir, I wouldn't care for any extra attention. I held up my hand and hollered down that I was alright. And then I swept the hair out of my eyes, hoisted myself up, picked up my bag, and carefully limped down the stairs and out the door. I have that walk of shame mastered.

Drumroll, please

We have a winner. And Jones, I wish you much, much luck. I hope someone else will agree to video, because I'm planning to Work. It. Out. while you're singing. I've picked up some sweet moves from this video. I might get a perm before October.

Ladies and gentleman, the next time you see a video featuring this incredibly delicious hit, it will be of the Karaoke King. And well worth the wait, I promise.

a-ha - New Music - More Music Videos

Joining the "I should be ashamed club"

Katie likes it. And I downloaded it too. (And she posted VIDEO!)

I want to not like her, I do.

And most of the time? Most of the time I succeed.

But I love to dance. And this song makes me dance—all around the house, in the car, at work.



I was embarrassed for myself, so I bought the new song from Train too.

This spooks me

I think this is a bad, BAD idea. Just sayin'. I wouldn't want to be in that Sam's Club after dark.

I love stuff

I do. Some might call this materialistic, perhaps even say I have a shopping addiction. (See? I can laugh about it now, I can!) I call it being honest. I recognize the desires of my heart.

And that is why I love a good prop sale at work.

Especially a half-price and free prop sale. Hell-to-tha-yeah. (Dear Mama, please forgive me for using a dirty word on my blog. I needed it for effect.)



Check out my loot. Now that's what I'm talking about. I scored this stuff during two sales—two checks, one for $5 and one for $8. I walked away with 18 plates (I LOVE plates), two cheese knives, a candlestick that matches some others that I have, four tiny silver vases (that need polishing), two wooden architectural pieces and a glass mirror tile for the guest room wall, four artichoke votive holders, three tiny bookend knickknacks, a cloth napkin I have big plans for (that's a lie, but it matches my mom's duvet so I felt compelled to snatch it from an intern), and—not pictured—a super-cool ceramic vase and a kitchen utensil holder that matches my mom's kitchen perfectly.

I've really avoided prop sales the past couple years cause they had gotten so pushy. But, well, there are fewer people to compete with here lately, so I decided to try again. I am pumped about all those plates—I got some for the guest bath, my bedroom, the dining room, and a couple I intend to actually use. Woot!

Luke came to visit

And look what he wanted to play with! Such a smart little kid. I had an old Georgia/Auburn game on TV, and when it went to commercial, Luke started making the sign for "more" and saying "football." Notre Dame, Smotre Dame.

Look how happy the Red & Black makes him. Luke + UGA = True Love.