Love. Her.

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

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

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

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.

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

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?

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!

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

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.

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

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

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

Indulge me

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.

Newsflash!

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

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

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

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

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

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.)