That's Just My Opinion

Saturday's alright for fighting … bad grammar

2012-02-11T13:43:00.003-06:00

Forgive me. I'm delirious and missing football and they always play that song before games in Sanford Stadium. Anyway, for those who missed this amazing breakdown on FB, behold. This is cocktail small talk gold, my friends. At least it is for me and my dorky entourage.

Thank you for being a friend

2012-02-10T15:40:00.004-06:00

What up, tricks? Happy Friday. I'm so glad the weekend is finally here. I don't have too much on my agenda except work and more work and maybe a little girl time Saturday night.

Which brings me to this. (Actually no, the above statements did not "bring me to this," but I've fully established on here that transitions? Not my thing.)

~~Sometimes when~~ Every time Erin, Amy, and I hang out, our talk inevitably turns to "The Golden Girls" and our plans to one day live together in a house near the beach. This house will definitely have a lanai, whatever that is, because the lanai is where all serious and healing heart-to-hearts take place. Plus, we can hose down the floor if we spill our red wine. Lanais are tiled. I think.

This is how I imagine we'll look: totally amazing. These grannies just don't care what anyone thinks, and that's a goal my friends and I will have reached by age 75. Only I'm going to look 60 because Botox is my friend.

We don't really have a Sophia in our group, so I think we should hold auditions soon. Those with an aversion to cheesecake need not apply. Everyone knows you can't solve any world problems or old-lady dating woes if you're not eating cheesecake on that lanai. (Or, for those of you in my circle, cheese steak. From the cart outside Nana Funk's. Boom.)

(I found this picture online somewhere. I should really know where so I can give someone some credit, but, well—I don't so I can't.)

Listen up, Mother Nature

2012-01-28T17:52:00.002-06:00

I am not a fan of this weather. Oh, I think the first whiff of spring after a particularly Antarctica-like January is divine, but then? Let’s get back to the business of winter. I don't like to sweat in December. Or January or February or the first three weeks of March. I like wearing tall boots and tights and leggings-not-as-pants (although I broke that rule 1 or 27 times recently) and sweaters. I enjoy my straight, frizz-free hair and the lack of humidity. Heck, I'll even take the dry skin. I have plenty of lotion in the cabinet. I'm not looking for snow and ice and everything not nice or anything, but 68°? 75°? No, thanks. I don't know how to dress for that, and that's my big gripe here.

Look good, feel good, ya know?

I should be ducking, I'm sure, from the eggs my silly little warm-weather-loving friends are throwing, but here's my secret: I stay up half the night most days, and while you're all tucked in and sweet dreaming, I'm doing the 20° dance around my apartment, hoping to counteract all of your weird I-love-mild-temperatures-in-winter vibes. Sometimes I throw a bikini into my bonfire and hula around it as a little sacrifice to the climate gods—and it is too dang hot for a bonfire right now. Brace yourselves for a mid-March cold snap. It's coming.

Stolen Funny Stuff

2012-01-26T21:57:00.005-06:00

I'm probably the last person in the universe to discover this YouTube video, but cutting-edge comedy isn't why you keep coming back to me, now is it? I ~~stole this from~~ give full credit to Amy for posting originally. Even if you watched it over on the hilariously funny Vodka Cranberry Clooney, I encourage you to watch it again here. Laughing twice never hurt anyone, and besides, we really need to discuss how anyone spends nearly $14 at a Taco Bell. When you're all done, click over to Amy's blog, because I said so and she's funny and I said so. I'm feeling terribly bossy today.

Seriously. Go jump on the Amy bandwagon now, because jumping on after her book is published and she's a super famous author who spends her days with me and Erin at the Ross Bridge pool drinking overpriced daiquiris is so obvious and tacky. Happy weekend, everybody!

This is the author photo Amy's book editor has selected for the inside jacket. What? No. My being her book's editor has nothing to do with the photo selection. How silly of you to suggest something like that. We're going to do something about that flash of white from my bra. Don't worry.

Hi.

2012-01-26T20:14:00.003-06:00

Don't ask me what happened to the fall. Or the holidays. Or the month of January. I've no idea. In my head, I've written a thousand blog posts, but my memory doesn't preserve them long enough to set fingertips to keyboard so there's my ~~excuse~~ explanation for the absence. Yes, I recognize it's become a problem of perpetual sorts. I briefly considered a voice recorder, but I quickly squelched that idea because I loathe few things more than the sound of my own voice. Wait, that's not quite right—I loathe few things more than the sound of my own voice on a recording. Ha! Here all week, folks. (But only because the week is nearly done, and that's probably as long as this blogging roll will last.)

I swear I try.

I have no clever transition so let's just move forward. Tonight I was slumped over in bed—eating a bowl of Trader Joe's fake Rice Krispies for dinner, half-watching silent TV, half-surfing the Internet—when I suddenly became aware of the Frank Sinatra song playing on iTunes shuffle. "Strangers in the Night." And then it hit me: Bubble bath music. It's January—no, actually, January is nearly over. One more Month of Me done. Except I haven't really gotten a proper month full of slothing and no commitments and—hello—bubble baths. While listening to Frank Sinatra. Ooh, and drinking lots of Conundrum White Blend.

These people, the ones older and wiser than me, the ones who said the older you get the quicker the time starts to fly? Turns out they were right. And aging along with my seemingly current obsession of becoming the most over-committed person in the state of Alabama is a toxic blend for my already overly caffeinated system, my friends. That's why the theme of this year is Chill Out. I was only half-joking to one of my friends when I told him my New Year's resolution was "don't make any new friends." It's nice to have lots of friends. I'm not ungrateful. Nor am I patting myself on the back for having acquired those friends—it's not really about me, it's the natural progression of doing new things and meeting new people. But when I'm unable to keep up with those good friends I care about, unable to be a true friend to them, I begin to wonder what the point is. The numbers game, it's not so fun to win it.

Luckily Amanda has stepped in to fill the role of social secretary. Not in the sense that all requests go through her. That would be awfully presumptuous of me. No, instead she'll basically step into my sister's position of being the boss of me. Stop me from taking on too much. Help me learn to say no. Or hella no, as the case may necessitate. Or maybe just say no for me. So please direct all the tough questions to her. I'm going to take a bubble bath.

Warning: You'll be singing this song all day.

2011-10-28T06:46:00.002-05:00

Watch this:

(Sorry about the Nyquil commercial, it’s cold-and-flu season. Wash your hands, kids.)

Then read this:

A Narrative Explanation of “Party in the U.S.A.”

I arrived in the Los Angeles International Airport with my career aspirations (and a sweater that buttons down the front) in tow. I realized immediately that this city puts a premium on notoriety and indulgence. That realization sparked feelings of insecurity as to my ability to conform to the expectations of the local sub-culture.

I took a taxi from the airport, noticing the iconic “Hollywood” sign on my right as I made my way to my destination. I felt a bit overwhelmed, particularly by the ubiquitousness of celebrities.

Suddenly, I realize that I’m actually nauseated by the stress of my new environs. What I wouldn’t give to be back home at this very moment. Fortunately for me, the cab driver decided to turn on his car stereo, and a Jay-Z song was playing. A Jay-Z song was playing. Just to reiterate: a Jay-Z song was playing.

I begin to dance to the music in recognition of the fact that the song in question has an emotional connection to me. It reminds me of home and assuages my fears and self-doubts. My head bobs and my feet move in time with the beat. I am reassured by this music. This is a celebration of a uniquely American character. Indeed, this is a celebration of a uniquely American character.

When the cab arrived at the nightclub, I felt the judgmental stares of the Angelinos the moment I passed through their collective field of vision, their attention settling on my questionable footwear. They realized instantly that I was an outsider.

What a difficult night this will be without my friends from back home. I would feel so much safer were this party on my turf. Unlike me, all the women here are wearing stiletto heels. Word about this aspect of the L. A. dress code apparently didn’t reach me in time.

I once again feel nauseated by a stressful situation. What I wouldn’t give to be back home right now. Fortunately for me, the club’s disc jockey played a Britney Spears song. He played a Britney Spears song. In case I haven’t made this clear, he played a Britney Spears song.

I begin to dance to the music in recognition of the fact that the song in question has an emotional connection to me. It reminds me of home and assuages my fears and self-doubts. My head bobs and my feet move in time with the beat. I am reassured by this music. This is a celebration of a uniquely American character. Indeed, this is a celebration of a uniquely American character.

Despite all the foregoing, I nonetheless continue to long for a return flight home. That is, of course, until I hear a familiar song again, at which point I return to some feeling of normalcy.

I begin to dance to the music in recognition of the fact that the song in question has an emotional connection to me. It reminds me of home and assuages my fears and self-doubts. My head bobs and my feet move in time with the beat. I am reassured by this music. This is a celebration of a uniquely American character. Indeed, this is a celebration of a uniquely American character.

I begin to dance to the music in recognition of the fact that the song in question has an emotional connection to me. It reminds me of home and assuages my fears and self-doubts. My head bobs and my feet move in time with the beat. I am reassured by this music. This is a celebration of a uniquely American character. Indeed, this is a celebration of a uniquely American character.

via The Axis of Ego

And now, tell me you are laughing hysterically. If you’re not? Well, then, you’re humorless, and I can’t help you. Happy Friday!

Some might say I'm obsessive.

2011-10-27T11:04:00.001-05:00

Actually, all my friends might say that. But don't I keep things interesting? Don't answer that.

Background: I am a big—HUGE—Hines Ward fan. (Note: If you have to Google his name, I’m afraid we just can’t be friends anymore.) I was in school at UGA for two of his four years on the football team, and he was my favorite player. And after 1998 draft—when he went to Pittsburgh in the third round of the NFL draft—I became a Steelers fan. Please don’t judge me, I don’t actually own a Terrible Towel.

(But I want one.)

Anyway, for various reasons (all good!) I’ve put a lot of hope and faith in the upcoming year, starting with my 33rd birthday in August. I am happy to report that the weeks-long celebrations were more fun than I could have dreamed, and the zenith of all the events was finding Hines Ward’s house in Atlanta.

Put the phone down! There’s no reason to get the cops involved. I didn’t jump the fence or anything.

It was too tall and I wasn’t wearing tennis shoes. Next time.

Please don’t make me tell you how I figured out where his house is; it’s really not important. (File that under Things My Attorney Said Not To Discuss.)

(But if you need me for any PI work, I have to say, I’m pretty good.)

What is important is that I found his house. And, with a little navigational help from Mallory Crayne (whose name I’ve changed in the interest of protection), I drove to his house, jumped out, and demanded a photo—right there in front of the security cameras. Rebel, I am. It may have been one of the happiest days of my life.

I don’t have any children yet; I’m allowed to say that.

Coming soon: The story of how I got Hines Ward to follow me on Twitter. I’m shameless.

You can see from this picture that I was giddy but somewhat fearful (one foot ready to run!), and my partner-in-crime was afraid we might be committing an actual crime, so she snapped it from the safety of my car. But? Still awesome.

2011-10-26T08:41:00.001-05:00

The other day I wore black skinny jeans to work, which meant I had two options in footwear: a pair of boots or tall patent leather peeptoe slingback wedges pictured here. (That may be the most descriptive shoe explanation ever.) Patent leather won because it’s shiny and sometimes I like to feel fancy and because I love these particular peeptoes. You can’t even tell that I am in desperate need of a pedicure!

I rarely ever wear flats because … well, because I don’t. This isn’t a therapy session so I’ll spare you the body image brain dump. I’m working on it.

So, as I was ~~wobbling~~ walking down the concrete hallway from my apartment to the parking garage that morning, a man crossed in front of me, opened the door, and stood there a good 15 seconds holding the door until I got there. I thanked him and apologized that I couldn’t walk any faster in my heels. And his response?

“I heard those heels and thought, ‘That’s a human in need of help.’”

Huh.

A human in need of help.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I mean, sir, you do see that this is a stacked-heel shoe, yes? That’s more difficult to walk in than, say, a graduated heel. So maybe that’s why I looked like I didn’t have my sea legs and was making the noise of a herd of thundering buffalo.

See? Do you see? Not easy to walk in these!

I started to tell him that his overgrown beard and hooded sweatshirt pulled all around his face on a 65° morning made me look at him and think, "Hmm. That's a human who might blow up a library." But I'm classier than that. You know, because I smiled graciously and then immediately put him down on my mental list of things to ~~make fun of~~ blog about.

Brought to you by the Iron Horse

2011-10-25T07:31:00.003-05:00

I'm a little slammed today (and all week, actually) so I considered asking Laurey to guest post about the Bret Michaels concert. But then I knew it would read something like this:

WESAWBRETMICHAELSINHOOVERSATURDAYNIGHTANDITWASSOAWESOME!
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!BRETMICHAELS!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!

So instead I stuck to Laurey's strengths and borrowed her mad photography skillz to bring you a picture post. My ears are still stopped up and ringing, and Bret ditched the meet-and-greet my friends paid for, but it was an excellent girls' night out anyway: We had fun, no one got in a fight (even though I almost had to take a fleece-robed girl out to the parking lot and show her what was up), and Amy and I got another picture for our Signature Dance Move photo album. (Contrary to what my oversize 80s shirt appears, I am not following Jessica Simpson's lead and trying to cover a baby bump. Thank you.) Please enlarge picture number two, and take note of our glittery eye makeup. I think my arsenal of sparkly face products startled Laurey a bit.

I got home around 3 a.m., and suddenly it was like 1999 on Lexington Road in Athens: I had to leave all my stinky clothes on the living room floor and Febreze my hair before I got in the bed. Seriously, who still allows indoor smoking?!

If you are Facebook friends with any of us, or if you follow one of us on Twitter, you were no doubt up-to-the-minute on our Saturday evening exploits. Erin and I were on top of the social media.

Know what's hard to eat in the car?

2011-10-24T06:45:00.000-05:00

Bojangle's chicken. But we did it!

I think my friends were genuinely concerned that I'd never eaten there. But we did have a seven-hour drive home to look forward to, and it was raining so we were (at least I was) sleepy already and ready to get going. We needed food, and Bojangle's was right there.

Like fate.

And, people? Bojangle's, I had no idea.

Perhaps fried chicken (which I just mistyped as "friend" chicken, maybe I'm on to something) and mac-and-cheese with Bo-Berry Biscuits (hello, delicious dessert) weren't the best road-trip energy options, but my faithful Love's gas stations are all along the Interstate, and we took the edge off with coffee and energy shots. And maybe some Oreos.

But, oh, that chicken. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't describe it here because I'd have to use words I hate, like "moist" and "succulent." Wait. I just used words I hate to describe that chicken. But it was, seriously, some of the best fried chicken ever. Ever! And now a helpful (or sick, twisted) friend has alerted me to the fact that a shiny new Bojangle's is just around the corner from me.

Oh, friend chicken and I are going to have a fabulous Fall together.

Mad props to JCole for driving and eating fried chicken without killing us all. We probably owe her a car wash.

Fur Vest: Weigh In

2011-10-23T09:00:00.001-05:00

Yes or no, readers? Not to sway you, but I really want this vest. So cute over a tissue tee, skinny jeans, and boots, right? I think you know how you should vote.

Have you seen this?

2011-10-22T09:00:00.000-05:00

Probably. I'm late to the party with this one, but doesn't everyone love Anjelah Johnson (of Bon Qui Qui fame)? She's clean and funny. Credit to Val the Super Roommate for showing me this one. I was a little hesitant to post this because I didn't want to offend anyone, but ultimately I decided it's just hilarious. I'm giving this gift on a Saturday because I realize it's nearly nine minutes long. Totally worth it, though, so I hope you stick around for the whole bit. I'm heading out to get my nail done: OPI Suzi Takes the Wheel!

Self-Promotion

2011-10-21T08:23:00.000-05:00

That's exactly what this is. But in case you forgot, I started a second blog, about homes and decor, and I'm posting there again, too. I don't know what's gotten in to me, but I like it!

It's Friday!

2011-10-21T07:26:00.001-05:00

Raise your hand if you're happy the weekend's here. Unanimous! We're all ready to kiss this work week goodbye.

I'm sticking around Birmingham the next few days (I know, I can hardly believe it myself!), so I'll do what I can to create a weekend full of blog-worthy stories. Okay, okay, I can't keep a secret: We're totally going to see the Naked Eskimos and Bret Michaels at Iron Horse in the 'burbs Saturday night. I guarantee there will be adventures and stories and gold shoes and glitter. Try your best to hang on till Monday, loves. The Iron Horse offers some of the best people-watching this side of New Orleans, and I do love a good stealthy iPhone pic. Check it out: Last time we went we saw Rod Stewart. Hee!

Flashback: Dudes. Miss me?

2011-10-20T07:01:00.000-05:00

Editor's note: Looks like I did try to start over back in August 2010, so I'm not a total slacker. Then again, I never published this post, so I guess I am. Anyway, enjoy this Rewind Thursday post, and let's all be grateful that 2011 has been a much better year!

Well. I don't know what to say for myself, really. It's been a long time. 2010 has been quite the Mind Bender. And while we're referencing roller coasters, let's just say there have been lots of highs and lows, dips and curves, top speeds and hard brakes.

This year has given new meaning to "Buckle up. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Sometimes I really do wish for a dull life. But a dull life doesn't make good stories.

There's no way I can catch y'all up in a blog post. I tried. It was approximately eleventy billion computer pages long. Instead, here's a little photo mosaic and a soundtrack for my life these past six months or so. Feel free to read into any of the songs, but just know you're probably thinking about it harder than I did.

Don't Dream It's Over (Crowded House)
True Fine Love (Steve Miller Band)
Baby What a Big Surprise (Chicago)
Dance, Dance, Dance (Steve Miller Band)
Daydream Believer (The Monkeys)
Rhinestone Cowboy (Glenn Campbell)
P.Y.T. (Michael Jackson)
Keep Your Hands to Yourself (Georgia Satellites)
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough (Michael Jackson)
It's Tricky (Run-DMC)
Your Love (The Outfield)
Hannah Jane (Hootie & the Blowfish)
Put a Lid On It (Squirrel Nut Zippers)
B-13 (Jump! Little Children)
Get Back (Ludacris)
A Matter of Trust (Billy Joel)
Love the Way You Lie (Eminem)
You're Only Lonely (J.D. Souther)
Don't Worry Baby (Billy Joel)
You Got Lucky (Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers)
California Waiting (Kings of Leon)
Midnight Train to Georgia (Gladys Knight and The Pips)
Wild Horses (Rolling Stones)
Beast of Burden (Rolling Stones)
Take the Money and Run (Steve Miller Band)
Fool in the Rain (Led Zeppelin)
Don't Go Breaking My Heart (Kiki Dee, Elton John)
Statue of a Fool (Ricky Van Shelton)
Shining Star (The Manhattans)
Wagon Wheel (Old Crow Medicine Show)

Super Freak!

2011-10-19T19:09:00.001-05:00

And just like that, it’s October. Doesn’t it feel like we’ve been back together forever? Time flies when you’re having fun.

A couple weeks ago I journeyed back to Charleston because, let’s face it, that city is awesome. I went with a friend and we met up with friends to go to the food and wine festival sponsored by my old employer, Southern Living. (Side note: I just clicked on the SL site and my old condo—and me—popped up on the home page, "18 Budget-Friendly Makeovers." Aww, I miss that condo.) I won tickets at work, we had a place to stay, and we ended up catching a ride to South Carolina with a former co-worker, who was headed to the lovely city on official business (read: free gas).

But that’s not really the point of this story. This is about the road trip over. Seven hours in a car with two other girls where I discovered that, well.

I’m a bit of a freak.

What’s that? I’m not detecting any shock or surprise in your reactions.

Somehow—after we’d run out of gossip and YouTube videos to share—we got on the subject of weird quirks, and boy, do I have some. I’m not looking to sell out Tiff or JCole here, but I will say this: I’m not the only oddball out there. Ha! Kidding, girls.

(No I’m not.)

Anyway, for your ponderment (What's with the red line, Blogger? Is that not a word?), I'll share a few of mine.

* I will eat any combination of M&Ms except for orange and blue. I won’t eat them together. Football-related, of course, so I’m sure you can figure out my reasoning.
* I like—no, love—Oreos. My favorite cookie ever. But I prefer the cream-to-one cookie ratio, so I usually just twist them apart, eat the side with the filling, and throw away the other half. Except I did discover that my roommate will eat the other cookie half, so sometimes I save them for her. I figure I can eat double the amount of cookies this way. Yeah?
* I hate Coke. Have we talked about this before? No Diet, no Pepsi, no RC. Blargh. I do love Dr. Pepper (regular and diet) and Fresca. But I’m a tea drinker.
* I order EVERYTHING extra-crispy: wings, bacon, sausage patties (no links), homemade potato chips/fries. You pretty much can’t burn anything for me. Why this weird, I don't know. But I get lots of strange looks when I order extra-crispy food.
* I eat grated Parmesan cheese—like the kind you find on the tables at Pizza Hut—with my finger. Dump it out, stick my finger in the cheese pile, eat. If I'm someplace fancier, I might use a fork. When I was little my grandmother would let me pour Parmesan from the green Kraft container into a cup, and I'd eat it with a spoon. I called it stinky cheese. Should I be embarrassed?

I’m feeling very “I just walked into class with no pants on” right now, so I’m just going to leave you to wonder why you’re friends with me.

(This picture really has nothing to do with this blog post, but the words of a 6-year-old Bo still ring in my head: What kind of blog doesn’t have pictures?!)

Why, hello there.

2011-10-18T23:39:00.006-05:00

Yes, it's me! I'm back! For now! Or until life takes over again! And you can tell from the abundant use of SCREAMER punctuation that I'm happy to be here! Yay!

Want to catch up?

Well. I see I haven't blogged since, huh, December. Of 2010. Almost one year ago. So a catch-up post could take some time. You might fall asleep. My life isn't that exciting. How about a few highlights instead? Okay. Here we go. Get some coffee. Or a Berry Five-Hour Energy Shot, my new drug of choice.

Just kidding, kids. Don't do drugs.

January 2011
All I remember about this month was COLD and SNOW and LAZY. See? Brrrrrr

February 2011
The shortest month of the year brought the annual Super Bowl pilgrimage to Dalton, Georgia, to see some buds and to cheer on my beloved Hines Ward and the Pittsburgh Steelers. My team lost, but there were Monster Nachos (re-created from our oversize indulgence at a Rockies game last year, oof) and the inside-joke cookie cake (Superbowl! forever), plus a new Hines Ward T-shirt, a post-game L&O marathon and plenty of karaoke. Oh, and we took off for a little basketball weekend in Athens. Yeehaw.

(What do you think of my dark hair?!)

March 2011
I don't have much to say for myself here. My calendar from 3/11 is practically empty and the only photo I can find in my files is this blurry camera shot of Hillsong Live performing (free!) at my church on a random Wednesday night. I can say for sure that we celebrated my Dad's birthday with an almond-amaretto cake. And then I guess March went out like a lamb.

Are you still awake? Wanna revisit April 2011?
The super-awesome new Railroad Park opened in downtown Birmingham, and we celebrated my good friend Amy's (here is where I would link to her blog if she would just START one!) birthday there, old-school field day style. And I made my first-ever deviled eggs. There was a shower demolition at the condo I was renting, we went bowling, and I found the long-lost finger puppet that Christopher gave me in December 2009. April was a big month. Snark.

May 2011
I kinda love the month of May, and this year it was full. And I'm not sure things have slowed down since. There was a Kenny Chesney concert (press tix, woot!), a big (and super-quick) move downtown—which we do not speak of, ever—I gained a roommate (Val, that's her below), a big ol' greasy feast at Milo's (Val had never eaten there, total travesty), and a Memorial Day trip home to the river for my grandmother's 90th birthday.

June 2011
Wild. That's all I can say about June. It was a vacation marathon: Charleston for a few days where we ate and beached and considered buying a boat and visited Firefly (!), Mt. Pleasant for a minivan ride and bowling with Nanny, Dalton/Chattanooga (my friend Jamie turned 34 and boxed some greasy dude, the beard continued to inhabit a zip code of its own, and Huey Lewis disappointed us all), and then I came home and collapsed. Vacation is exhausting, white whine.

July 2011
Nothing happens in July. It's too hot. Just kidding. There were birthday celebrations (Christopher, Val, my brother), a trip to ATL, working at The Cherry Zebra (oh yeah, my mom and sister opened a gift shop in Georgia!), and—biggest news of all—I won a free bowling party. Stop it, July! You're spoiling me.

August 2011
Click right here for all you need to know about my birthday month. I rang it in big-time. Except for my bum hip, 33 seems to be alright. Oh, and my football tickets arrived. (Don't worry, that's not my real address.)

September 2011
Wheeee! Rainy Labor Day weekend at the beach (no documentation, who wants to see that?) and my BABY brother got married. Seriously, what is that about? In between? Lots of football. And I got an iPhone (hello, lover—but not an iPhone 4S, s'okay).

Hello? Are you still there? That's 2011 in a nutshell. I'll pick up with October soon. Stick around.

*Note: I'm too tired to proofread this post. Cut me some slack?

A few of my favorite things #3

2010-12-16T16:03:00.005-06:00

Here I am again.

With another non-post.

Stop complaining. Anything is better than total absence. Right?

(PS: It took me seven tries to spell "absence" correctly. Because I spell for a living, I do not see this as a good sign.)

(PPS: Stop laughing. The world does not have enough good spellers.)

(PPPS: I had a rather humiliating spelling gaffe at work today. Please leave career change suggestions in the comments.)

(PPPPS: This post is not about my spelling. Which I just spelled "spalling." I kid you not.)

Really, all the postscripts were just an attempt to draw out the SUSPENSE. Below, I present A Few of My Favorite Things #3. Try not to DIE from the excitement.

Magnifying Medi-Grip & Lighted MagRX via The Container Store

Just kidding.

I want a $33 24-pack of these:

This nostalgic soda still uses imperial pure cane sugar as its sweetener.

Please, dear Santa. I'm totally not kidding.

A few of my favorite things #2

2010-12-10T00:19:00.001-06:00

I think by now we've all learned that the way to my heart is through the annual Kate Spade desk calendar. If you're not interested in winning my heart, stop reading now. Because I love nothing more than a nice cliché, I'll stop writing now—the picture is worth a thousand words. Behold:

A few of my favorite things #1

2010-12-06T10:53:00.002-06:00

Because I know I often find myself digging around in my bag for a spare utensil at that moment when there's PIE! But, uh oh, no forks!—I'm sure you all can appreciate this. It is a "supreme stocking stuffer," so says The Container Store. And I'm sharing it with all three of you who still visit this blog so you can snap some up for Christmas before they sell out. YOU'RE WELCOME. (Don't forget to buy me one too.)

What? Did you think I was going to offer an explanation for my whereabouts the past nine months? I thought maybe you hadn't noticed. But it's the holiday season, so let's just focus on FORGIVENESS, PEOPLE.

Confidential to my CAP friends …

2010-08-17T19:05:00.000-05:00

Mostly just to my "C" friends. Please take the time to read this post. Jezebel pleads with you as well: "No, seriously. Just read this in its entirety, from the top. Because if you haven't yet seen this brilliant exchange from David Thorne, you need to. Right now."

Please.

Take the seven minutes and do it. My dear, dear copy friends, is this dead-on or what?

My hilarious boss actually sent the link to me with this directive: Take time to read this. I insist you make it part of your work duties for the day.

And we were in production!

Music Monday

2010-08-16T23:36:00.003-05:00

So, I'm really kind of into Carrie Underwood's new girl power anthem, "Undo It." Don't, like, try to get all deep and psychological on me, I just really like the song. It kind of caught me off-guard, actually, because I'm not a super big CU fan in the first place, and I definitely haven't loved any of her other power-to-the-women songs. But this one makes me sing even louder than usual in the car … when I'm alone.

Now, this next one? Yeah, it's embarrassing. I don't like this song, but I can't get it out of my head. That's why I'm sharing it with you. Feel free to read into the deeper meaning behind this one, fo' sure.

Sorry about the quality, but come on. Let's think about that for a minute. I did take the time to find the clean version. I have some 7-year-old readers. And a mom.

Disclaimer: I have not downloaded either of these songs. Then again, maybe I'm just waiting on an iTunes gift card for my birthday.

I'm back … with funny stuff

2010-08-16T21:22:00.002-05:00

You know you sang this into the mirror ~~last week~~ once upon a time while using your hairbrush as a mic. And now you'll never be able to take yourself seriously again. (Extra credit to my boss for sending this along on a slow Thursday afternoon.)

And, because I never know when to leave well enough alone, here's one of my very favorite songs ever. (Ever!) I've watched it 10 times tonight. (Oh, shutty. It's Monday, and it's raining.) If you don't laugh at this one, you have no soul.

Yeah, no, I wasn't kidding. I really don't know when to stop. But since some of you love to make fun of my genuine love for The Killers, I couldn't leave this one out. Trust me. I could've posted 20 of these. I know. You're welcome.

Hello.

2010-04-06T08:18:00.002-05:00

I promise to come back soon.
Life got really busy.
Miss y'all and your witty commentary.

Love. Her.

2010-02-17T14:44:00.002-06:00

I have a massive crush on ~~Lorelai Gilmore~~ Lauren Graham. I'm going to check out Parenthood just because of her. (Although I wish she'd skipped that movie with Vin Diesel.) Anyway, lovely article here.

I wish she was one of my besties.

No offense to my actual besties.

(With many apologies for using the word "besties." Twice.)

All kinds of fail

2010-02-15T19:37:00.006-06:00

I mean, the family decals are bad enough. But here, straight from Chattanooga, Tennessee, I bring you the family tree car decals. Keep your barf bag handy.

(Yeah. They were in the car when we stopped to take this picture. But you put eleventy billion family members on the back of your SUV, and you're just asking to be made fun of.)

Deep thoughts by Lil' Wayne

2010-02-06T01:06:00.000-06:00

That sweet face-tattooed rapper. He knows that the Lord is sending him to prison so he can experience life behind bars. This has absolutely nothing to do with his decision to carry a .40-caliber handgun on his tour bus back in July 2007.

"He says his prison term is God's will for him and everything happens for a reason. 'I look at things as 'Everything is meant to be.' I know it's an experience that I need to have if God's putting me through it.' "

Or it's an experience you need to have because the court said so. As in, a consequence for your actions.

P.S. Lil' Wayne sorta terrifies me.

via People

Check out this site

2010-02-05T00:28:00.004-06:00

I've been reading this wedding design blog for a couple of years, so I figure it's high time I share. I know my latest posts have left y'all thinking I'm a total cynic, but see! I love love! Especially well-designed love!

The best part of this blog is that it covers so many elements: wedding/bridesmaids dresses, shoes, jewelry; cakes, desserts, favors; great photography; and fantastic details. I'm such a sucker for details.

I kind of want to ~~get married again~~ be a wedding planner a la JLo in—what else—The Wedding Planner. But with a smaller derriere.

PTL. Literally.

2010-02-05T00:20:00.001-06:00

My email just keeps delivering treats for the blog.

Long ago, during a weak moment (read: total brain lapse), I agreed to participate in a hip-hop dance class taught by Darrin Henson. (Darrin don't play. He choreographed the "Bye, Bye, Bye" dance for *NSYNC. Yes. I totally just stylized with an asterisk.)

Anyway, it was disastrous.

The workshop was put on by Jamme's Crunk Fitness. Let us now pause and pay homage to the greatest name of all time.

Jamme's. Crunk. Fitness.

Liberal use of the letter "m." Addition of the "e" to class it up a bit. And what's better than getting crunked and then heading straight for the Y? I. Know. Nothin'.

So. My point. Because of my attendance at this crunk fitness-sponsored event, I ended up on Jamme's e-mail list. Jamme's e-mails are real gems, and I've especially enjoyed her birth announcement and the family Christmas card. But this latest one? Well, just see for yourself.

My e-mail promises a "fun high-energy gospel hip-hop workout for all levels."

So go ahead. Get crunked, and then go get your praise on. Keep the body temple healthy. Or, God bless you, become an instructor. See you in chur—er—at the gym.

Mushy poetry

2010-02-04T13:14:00.003-06:00

I just downloaded a new app on my phone.

Love Poems.

It's going to provide us with endless entertainment, friends. You're welcome.

Here's today's top poem, word for word, brought to us by vickyprettyprincess. (I put it in italics because it's a work of art.)

A friend is someone u can lean on.
A lover is someone u can depend on.
A friend tells u the difference between right and wrong.
A lover keeps u modest and strong.
A friend is there for u through thick and thin.
A lover encourage u to always win.
A friend is someone who would fight for u.
A lover is someone who would die for u.
But let me tell u this before I end, a lover always begin out being a friend.

1. I detest the word "lover."
2. "A lover always begin out being a friend."
3. "u"
4. "A lover encourage u to always win."

When you recite this to your lovah (*gag*), please be sure to give vickyprettyprincess proper credit. You know you couldn't write something like this by yourself.

Hmmm…word choice?

2010-02-04T00:05:00.002-06:00

Even though technically "voluptuous" is used correctly in this e-mail ad I received from Sephora for Kim Kardashian's new perfume—which, btw, what?—it just sounds wrong.

And also stupid. Because, in my mind, I read "Kim Kardashian's new curvy, full-figured perfume."

Remind me again why I don't have a job? Thanks.

It's clear, too, why there never will be a StephInBham fragrance that captures the many facets of my personality. No way in the world pickle juice, Chick-fil-A, and a freshly mowed football field is a scent trilogy any woman wants to spritz behind her ears. Oh well, that dream's dead.

(I realize pickle juice, CFA, and football are things I love, not so much parts of my personality. Just go with it.)

National Signing Day!

2010-02-03T14:45:00.008-06:00

A little something to ~~tide~~ hold me over till September 4.

I hope this present from my dishwasher isn't a sign.

Or these folks here (and one missing brother, who prefers I keep his "business" off the Internet) are going to be very disappointed, especially the middle two, who tend to get a little overly emotionally invested.

Okay, so maybe just me.

What? Everybody needs to be passionate about something. And I already have a few cold-weather game-day outfits planned.

I take it all back

2010-02-03T10:52:00.007-06:00

I do love Valentine's Day. At least Valentine's Day 2010.

Because while all those other suckers are out spending $200 on three scallops and a teeny-tiny flourless heart-shaped chocolate tart, I'll be parked in front of my TV with a Lean Cuisine and some sugar-free chocolate pudding for this.

Amazing Race Season 16, baby! I started watching AR right about the time I moved to Birmingham. We've been through a lot together, and I'm so proud of AR's accomplishments—from nearly being canceled several times to winning all seven of the Primetime Emmys for Outstanding Reality-Competition Program since the category was created in 2003.

(I read somewhere that after the seventh Emmy win some media types—including Survivor host Jeff Probst—suggested AR remove itself from further consideration. Uh, sure. Sour grapes much?)

It is my life's dream to compete on this show before I die.

Life's. Dream.

It's probably going to take half my remaining life to find a partner who can put up with me.

I won't fare well on the nasty food challenges, but I can walk a bridge of 2 x 6s thousands of feet above a gorge and I have no problem jumping out of a 30-story tree house and flying down a cable at 70 m.p.h., so I feel like I'm a good bargain. (Please note Katie's comment on that post.)

I'm also going to get this and this for the cold cities, and I am totally wearing red and black the entire race. UGA! Represent!

(Oh yeah. I really did just type that.)

Who wouldn't want me as a teammate? Please.

And who doesn't have a mad, mad crush on Phil Keoghan?

This is just stupid.

2010-02-03T00:09:00.001-06:00

Now, come on.

Gisele Bündchen can not seriously think anyone believes her, right? Right? I know lots and lots of women who have given birth, and one man too.

Just want to make sure y'all are alert this morning.

Someone did tell me once that giving birth was like a "really bad bowel movement," which is disgusting and, I theorize, a dirty rotten lie. Fairly certain this woman was smoking the crack. Probably during labor.

Anyway, out of all these mothers not even one has ever told me that giving birth—without much medication—wasn't painful. That is asinine.

Also what these women did not tell me? That every painful contraction just made them focus on how much closer the baby was. Unless it counts that most of them just wanted that baby OUT! so it would quit murdering their insides.

I can't really offer an argument based on personal experience (except for that friggin' never-ending kidney stone debacle) given that the Almighty has so wisely left me childless thus far, but I feel pretty safe betting that my friends will all agree with me here.

So shutty, Gisele.

Note: Nobody better expect me to be up washing dishes and making pancakes the day after a human comes out of me. Nah-uh. And I'm willing to bet fried batter covered in sugary syrup has never crossed that woman's lips.

Reader challenge

2010-02-02T12:34:00.003-06:00

Can you come up with a lamer or more obnoxious commercial than this one? I have my doubts. This one kinda tops "Head-On! Apply directly to the forehead!" (Repeat 12 times.)

It's so tough to see Karen like this.

*Apologies for getting a crappier version of Gloria Estefan's crappy song stuck in your heads. Wasn't very nice of me.

My good fortune

2010-02-01T00:01:00.000-06:00

Excellent. Dream? I'll be least expecting you in the next five to seven days. Don't leave me hanging.

Indulge me

2010-01-30T01:00:00.002-06:00

Like I said on Facebook, I live in a sea of crimson and houndstooth. (Which, btw, I'm taking back. No team can just call dibs on an entire pattern, okay? Let me wear my houndstooth in peace.)

Dudes. Sorry. But our coaches are cuter than your coaches.

Oh, St. Valentine. How I loathe you.

2010-01-29T13:09:00.008-06:00

At the risk of sounding like a bitter old hag, I'd like to confess that February 14 really annoys me. I'm no loveless, heartless chick or anything, but icky romantical stuff really creeps me out. I present Exhibit A.

"Surround her with the strength of your love." I mean, really? There are so many, many things wrong with this commercial. I have to watch with my hand in front of my eyes because it's like the part in a horror movie when things are about to go horribly wrong.

All the hoopla surrounding Valentine's Day just makes me gag too: crowded restaurants, prix fixe menus, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. If a dude wants to make me swoon just take the $75 in the rose fund, hand me the cash, and drop me off at Sephora. I guarantee you'll get to second base later.

Oh, lighten up. I'm joking. I'm also a touch-me-not.

I do not, however, begrudge you if V-day is your most favorite holiday in all the 365 days of the year. I actually do like these delightful little love cards.

Get 'em here.

They're perfect. Sweet, not too mushy. No unnecessary prose inside. Just sign it with a "xo, Pooks." Or whatever. You don't even want me to start in on pet names.

*Mom, don't forget my Valentine's Day gifts. I don't see any good reason to get all crazy and turn down a care package.
**Just so y'all don't think I'm some sort of robot: I do enjoy a good chick flick, I'm fine with hugs from *most* people, I cry every time I watch "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," and I love a playlist that mixes Harry Connick, Jr., Michael Buble, Otis Redding, Al Green, and Marvin Gaye. I'm still a girl.

Newsflash!

2010-01-28T00:01:00.000-06:00

I was working through my morning coffee-and-news routine the other day: AJC, a couple of local newspapers, AL.com, various sports sites and blogs, the Today show. Fourteen cups of coffee. (Which, side note, have become fancier since I no longer have to get to work by, uh, 9ish. I have plenty of time to use my Aerolatte frother on my French vanilla cream. Hello, poor woman's cappuccino.)

(But nothing will ever taste as delicious in my coffee as one of Leah's homemade marshmallows.)

(No pressure, Leah. Just sayin'. I mean, she did give me the recipe.)

Anyway. I was very busy learning all kinds of newsy stuff that makes me a superstar at cocktail parties when, lo, a revelation delivered by US Weekly. (Whatever, okay? Sometimes my intellectual brain needs a break and I troll the gossip sites, usually after I've watched a thought-provoking episode or two of The Girls Next Door.) Right, so, the revelation.

Kate Gosselin and her new extensions, blah, blah, blah. Apparently she hates them. Because, according to USW: (Proof: A ponytail is often the look women who hate their hair resort to.)

Uh, yeah? Wonder how scientific that research was. I love a ponytail: high, low, side. Most gals I know do too. Is it convenient? Sure. Easy on a bad hair day? No doubt. Perfect for the gym? Of course. But I wouldn't say I wear a ponytail because I hate my hair. I mean, I've been known to rock a sleek ponytail at a dressy event. No one seemed horrified.

Ladies?

When I find that special someone

2010-01-27T21:46:00.005-06:00

I'm watching another Hilary Duff movie (no judging, I come here for acceptance), and I just heard the line of the century.

"Love is friendship on fire."

Oh hells yes.

I can't wait to use this. I hope I can keep a straight face when I gaze deep into some dude's eyes and free those five special words from my lips.

Adult video

2010-01-27T11:50:00.001-06:00

Okay, gutter minds, not that kind of adult video. But unless you're ready to explain this to small children, watch during nap time. I have no idea who sent this to me, but I found it while cleaning out old files on my laptop. I haven't stopped laughing since Monday.

*I love the end when the officer apologizes. Again.

Back with a vengeance

2010-01-22T14:54:00.004-06:00

That's right. Nothing and then—bam!—two posts in one day.

My friend posted this on his FB page, and I think it's pretty hilarious. (I know non-Georgia readers might not appreciate it quite as much as the natives will.)

Pardon the salty language in a few spots. It's still funny.

*I'm a big fan of the UGA presence in this video, and I know my sister will enjoy the nod to Wesleyan around 4:18 or so.

I know, I know

2010-01-22T09:57:00.003-06:00

I am a crappy blogger.

The fact is, there isn't much blog-worthy action to report on when you loaf around by yourself most of the day.

Not having a job—while once kinda awesome—is now kinda boring since football season has ended, the holidays have come and gone, and I have no more road trips on the books.

Boo. I love road trips.

Boo. Road trips cost money.

(I'd rather not eat than not go on road trips.)

Which brings me to: my new weight-loss plan. It's called the Unemployment Diet. Turns out, when you sleep from 2 a.m. to 10 a.m. you aren't really hungry for breakfast. And when you eat lunch around 2 or 3 p.m., dinner isn't usually much more than a snack. This really cuts down on the monthly Publix bill too. (Which then supplies money for road trips.)

Hooray for silver linings!

Talk soon, peeps.

Everybody who's anybody knows Leah

2009-12-18T14:59:00.007-06:00

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?

2009-12-07T23:53:00.003-06:00

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!

2009-12-07T23:13:00.002-06:00

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…

2009-11-30T22:27:00.003-06:00

…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?

2009-11-24T13:19:00.001-06:00

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!

2009-11-17T12:02:00.002-06:00

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?

2009-11-17T10:59:00.003-06:00

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

2009-11-16T12:48:00.004-06:00

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

2009-11-16T12:40:00.001-06:00

That's pretty much all I have to say.

Sorry I've been MIA

2009-11-13T14:59:00.003-06:00

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…

2009-11-04T22:56:00.002-06:00

"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

2009-10-30T05:23:00.000-05:00

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

2009-10-29T23:19:00.001-05:00

Oh. Fancy me.

2009-10-29T16:29:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-29T06:14:00.000-05:00

Don't you wish this was your job?

Bust a move

2009-10-28T22:15:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-28T21:30:00.004-05:00

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

2009-10-28T20:17:00.005-05:00

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

2009-10-25T18:48:00.003-05:00

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!

2009-10-18T23:42:00.002-05:00

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

Cleaning house

2009-10-09T13:24:00.015-05:00

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

2009-10-07T15:25:00.002-05:00

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

2009-10-01T22:50:00.003-05:00

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

2009-09-30T07:55:00.004-05:00

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

2009-09-29T19:53:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-09-28T17:22:00.002-05:00

Photo: Dale Zanine, US PRESSWIRE

A pleasant exchange

2009-09-28T11:46:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-09-28T11:44:00.002-05:00

Talk about adding insult to injury.

Need your help

2009-09-25T08:12:00.003-05:00

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

2009-09-25T00:24:00.003-05:00

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

2009-09-23T23:02:00.001-05:00

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

Many thanks to my awesome friend and videographer Brooke.

Never, ever

2009-09-23T16:25:00.003-05:00

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

2009-09-20T21:13:00.002-05:00

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

2009-09-14T13:11:00.004-05:00

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

2009-09-13T21:45:00.002-05:00

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

2009-09-13T21:00:00.001-05:00

Stuff like this happens there.

Welcome home!

2009-09-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

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

2009-09-09T21:47:00.002-05:00

Go here. Watch. You're welcome.

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

Let's do this!!!

2009-09-05T10:00:00.000-05:00

I didn't forget Jones

2009-08-31T01:09:00.004-05:00

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

2009-08-30T13:07:00.001-05:00

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)

2009-08-30T13:03:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-30T11:58:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-26T21:46:00.000-05:00

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

2009-08-25T09:36:00.000-05:00

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"

2009-08-20T23:09:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-20T23:04:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-20T21:59:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-20T21:26:00.003-05:00

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.

And now for the weird stuff

2009-08-20T20:46:00.005-05:00

The evening with Pat Conroy (I'm sorry, I just really love the way that sounds) wasn't all brilliant prose and witty commentary. Oh no. There were people there.

People are stupid. Oh, I love to people-watch. And then talk about how much I hate people.

First, Amy and I chose the closest seats to the front that we could find, next to a perfectly normal-looking woman in a dress (though she should've thought twice about ditching the bra). But then, shortly after the program started, said woman stretched out her legs and began to unwrap her Subway sandwich. Which she chased with a handful of gummy fruit snacks. Now that just seemed downright inappropriate. Because, y'all. It wasn't a tailgate.

Then I noticed the woman seated next to Amy. The woman who politely crossed her legs—after removing one of her shoes. She spent the next two hours frantically fanning her naked foot. Really, lady?

But suddenly I was distracted by someone—something—else. Can you see that sparkly newsboy cap on that old lady? Had to sneak a pic. Took it specifically for this post.

And then, oh then, the woman behind us got started. The woman who did not realize that people paid $40 to listen to famous authors. She thought she was part of the show. Know what else she thought? She thought when Pat Conroy asked rhetorical questions that she should shout out answers. And the more wine she drank, the more she felt led by the literary spirit. Pretty soon she was predicting the words of a great novelist for us. And not one of her friends was kind enough to stuff a sock in her mouth.

An evening with the [literary] elite

2009-08-20T20:11:00.008-05:00

Wow.

So it's no secret that Pat Conroy is an amazing Southern author. I say "Southern author" not because he isn't a plain good author, but because it makes me very happy to point out that he's my kind of people. As we might say, "He done us proud."

Okay, okay. We would never say that. My people do not use incorrect grammar.

Back to my evening with Mr. Conroy. Short story: A friend of Amy's got her two tickets to the sold-out event (an estimated 1,000 people were turned away) and she asked me to go. After thinking about it for, oh, point-something-something of a nanosecond, I said—screamed—"YES!" (Also imagine me dancing around like a fool.)

To say it was one of the most delightful evenings of my life would be a…hmm. What's a stronger word for "understatement?"

Author (and wife) Cassandra King was lovely; Rick Bragg, hilarious as always; and Pat Conroy was just flat-out inspiring.

"My mama said to me, 'Don't forget to tell the stories.' " —Pat Conroy

And now I feel a duty—an inspired duty!—to get back to writing, to telling the stories.

A rainbow on our way to the Doubletree = sign of a good night.

I know it's really dark, but look! It's Pat Conroy.

The new book, 14 years in the making.

My very own autographed copy, included with the ticket.

Rock the vote!

2009-08-20T20:08:00.003-05:00

Remember this? Of course you do. The options have been narrowed down. Please head over to the poll on the right and vote! It's starting to look like Jones may need to hire a vocal coach before October. And I need to buy a Flip for documentation purposes. To whom do I turn in blog expenses for reimbursement?

Uh, hello?

2009-08-18T13:56:00.001-05:00

I have to read this, right?

Hometown Hero

2009-07-31T12:39:00.003-05:00

That's my brother right there in the picture (the one NOT on oxygen). Check out the story here. And also, happy 24th birthday, Zach!

The Karaoke King

2009-07-29T22:57:00.003-05:00

I spent this past weekend in Nashville with a friend from college and a bunch of other folks who enjoy The Fun as much as I do.

I told you there were others out there like me.

Anyway, I am super pumped that my girls' weekend in Nashville/Kings of Leon concert coincides with the UGA/Vandy game, 1. because I want to attend the game and 2. because this means I can have some more of The Fun with Jones. I've already bragged about his legendary skillz to my friends. He is The Karaoke King. For his part, Jones has agreed to absolutely bring it.

I quote: "You tell me the song you want me to rock, and I'll make it happen."

Internet people, I need help. Please, no 867-5309 or Jessie's Girl. He took care of that this past weekend at Lonnie's. Dig deep, be creative. Leave your selections in the comments as usual. Once I narrow down the options, there will be a poll. And I know how much y'all love a poll.

Come on folks. This man's talent knows no limit. Ready? Set. Go!

I know what I'M doing next time…

2009-07-23T11:18:00.001-05:00

Thank you, Summer. Just. Thank you.

Thanks to Amy, I bring you…

2009-07-10T11:11:00.002-05:00

Mmmm. Weight Watchers recipe cards. Circa 1974. Don't be shy! Pick out something for your family tonight. Show 'em how much you love them. Because I know, if my mom made Fluffy Mackerel Pudding, I'd feel loved. I'd probably be feeling a lot more than that by the end of the night.

Take a look-see. Leave your faves in the comments. And be sure to thank Amy for this Friday gem.