Lord Have Mercy, I am Shocked! Shocked, I Say!

Not.

http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20194645,00.html

Classy

Today I got behind a man on a motorcycle. He was driving rather slow, and his motorcycle actually resembled a scooter. And his helmet featured some stars, some stripes, and...

...a nekkid woman.

Well I never.

And how come so many motorcycle drivers are blessed in the rear end area? Dude was spilling off the sides of his seat. And I guess his T-shirt was pulling too tight because he pulled it up, gave it a few shakes to get some air up his back, and revealed his butt crack.

Why do folks always want to flash me?

**Click on bold word for old flash entry.

Gripe of the Day

Why do people stand directly in front of the elevator, their noses 2 inches from the doors? Don't you expect, 9 times out of 10, a few people to walk out before you can get on? Evidently the lady at Brookwood Mall did not. But the kicker is, not only did she NOT back up to let me out, she actually got right on as I was getting out. I mean, seriously, lady. I was standing in the middle of the door opening, and I had bags in both hands. There was not enough room for the two of us, and she couldn't wait the 2 nanoseconds it was going to take for me to walk out? If you're in that big of a rush, shouldn't you take the escalator?

Rude, Right?

Here is an annoying couple in the chick-lit aisle at B&N. Right before I covertly snapped this shot, the girl got up to find a new book. She had been sitting right next to the dude with her legs stretched out too. They were totally camped out. Twice I tried to move down the aisle, but they weren't budging. Another guy tried too. No luck. He had to walk around and then stand at the edge of the other end to try and find his book. These two were oblivious. Or, at least, pretending to be.

Side note: Anyone remember the Little Miss... books? Little Miss Sunshine, Little Miss Shy, Little Miss Curious. There's a promo table of those books, 3 for $9.99. I got really excited. I loved those books when I was little.

A Pedicure and a Butt Massage

I got a pedicure Friday afternoon. Needed to get back to my beloved Lincoln Park. I tried a new place that is really nice, plus it had the recommendation of a friend. Said friend had a better experience than I did.

Everything seemed awesome in the beginning. Relaxing atmosphere, comfy chairs, and free bottled water. I settled in.

And then my chair seat starting vibrating. And then it started moving. At first it was just weird. Then it got uncomfortable. The sides were squeezing together, and the movement made me feel like I was being pushed out of my seat. And the middle part rose up. You can see where this going. It was, understandably, quite odd.

And I couldn't get it to stop. I finally had to ask my pedicurist (?) for help. He didn't know what to do. So someone had to come help me. By then I had a bit of an audience. Mortifying.

Turns out my remote had come unplugged. Some dude fixed it for me, and I switched the massage to neck and shoulders only.

The rest of the time was just okay. Morgan, the guy painting my toes, drew blood, didn't exfoliate enough, and tried to talk me into a French pedicure because the color I chose was going to stain my nails. Ditch the Lincoln Park? Blasphemy!

He's Got Betty Da-, er, Bedroom Eyes

I'm scared of the guy at Subway near my office. About six or seven months ago, he wouldn't stop staring at me when I went in for lunch. He held my gaze the whole time I was telling him what to put on my sandwich. He never even looked down to pick up the pickles and onions. At first I thought I might know him, but because I'm not from Birmingham, I knew that couldn't be right. And then he spoke.

"Dang. [Whistle] So sexy. Whoo."

Excuse me, what?

[Big smile] "Yeah, you know it, too, don't you."

Oh, pardon me while I vomit.

So I avoided that particular Subway until last week. I felt sure he wouldn't be working there anymore, and anyway, I needed to get over it. So I went.

And he was there. And he remembered me.

And I've since heard from a few of my friends who have had the same experience.

The guy must have a thing for blondes.

Overheard

Today I heard two women at TJ Maxx gossiping about another woman who apparently needs to slow down her spending and embrace some thriftiness. One of the women had some advice for her.

"That girl better get used to eating her some Roman noodles."

Now I KNOW I'm Weird

Most of you know about my undying devotion to Chick-fil-A. I could not, would not live in a town without at least one. (Come on, y'all, the lady who works the Columbus drive-thru window was invited to my wedding.)

Here's the thing, though. I love a good CFA sandwich, with extra pickles, that's lukewarm. I know. If I didn't know how good it tastes, I'd gag myself.

I had a dentist appointment last Thursday morning, and on the way in to work I pulled through to get a sandwich. I let it sit on my desk for a good two and a half hours. If my office wasn't kept at a brisk -10 degrees, the chicken temp would have been just right. And I've discovered that, by getting the wheat bun with extra pickles, the soggy bread to chicken ratio is much better than with the white bun.

Oh, and while I'm writing this post, I'm listening to my one Bjork download.

Wish Granted

My friend Cindy has a goal to get her picture on all her friends' blogs. Well, Cindy-Lou-Who, here's one more to check off. I'm doing this for you even though you're ditching us all for San Antonio.

Black Friday

People say that, after a while, spouses start to look alike. But what about coworkers?

Hello, Dolly!

Yeah, it's true. I'm a big Dolly fan. How can you not love her? She's so incredibly over the top. So, unlike some of you, I was excited for Dolly Parton night on AI. While I pity the poor contestants for having to sing her hits, seeing Dolly was, as always, a sight for the eyes. But I also think she looked better than she has in recent years. The wig wasn't quite as yellow as it's been, and her skin didn't look as, hmm, injected. The metallic dress, the trademark laugh, the red lips, all awesome. And I loved the part where she joked about her tears messing up her false eyelashes. And when Kristy Lee sang The Coat of Many Colors, I cried. Don't laugh at me. You heard Dolly. It's a true story. I cried so hard that my tears DID mess up my false lashes.

Shut up. I had to buy them for the pageant party. They were $15! I had to wear them more than once.

Anyway, for the record, my favorite Dolly song is Hard Candy Christmas. I listen to it on my iPod at least once a week. Year-round. My second fave is Here You Come Again.

Okay, for a recap and commentary on tonight's episode, click on Natalie's Notables on the right. She's a AI recap pro!

New Use For an Old Invention

Tonight on my way to a meeting downtown, I drove past a gas station and saw a man vacuuming the pavement. I know, right?! That's weird! But this old man totally had an Oreck out there, running it up and down the area outside the store's door. Who knew? The little vacuum headlight was on and everything. And to think, all this time I've just been vacuuming carpet with my Hoover. I wonder if one of those wet-dry vacs could suck up all the snow for our friends up north.

P.S. That title is for all my work friends. We love to put a new twist on something old :)

What the?

In whose world is this woman attractive? Help me out! I'm so confused and always have been (about Pam, friends, not confused in general).

I Think I'm Weird

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

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

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

Happy Easter

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

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

Irrational Fear?

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

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

My Suspicious Dad

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

Wait, what?

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

Tee hee.

They used sirens AND a big spotlight.

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

Sigh. My life is so boring.

Duck!

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

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

And then I died of embarrassment.

Old Hollywood Glamour Party for Miss GA

Sleeping In

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

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

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

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