Dear Job Fairy

Please send work. I'm out of lotion.

Love,
Tink

P.S. I'll admit, I wasn't as stingy with my nest egg as I could have been. But who knew I was going to be out of work this long! As I sat in front of the computer yesterday, looking at my bank account and saying a bunch of expletives, I realized I had to do something (crazy). Otherwise I was going to start hitting into our "ABSOLUTE EMERGENCY!" money. That's the money I set aside in case Hoop or I ever ended up in jail or the hospital. It would be my luck that the moment I spent the money, one or both of those situations would happen. Hopefully unrelated!

Ugh. There are totally too many !s in this letter already. I don't want you to think that me running out of money means I can't eat. I can eat. I just can't eat expensive things like sushi, or steak, or anything that isn't on sale or B1G1 Free. Capeesh? Unemployment pays for 97% of my bills (thank God). So the worst thing that's going to happen by me running out of money is that my hair wont get done and my legs will start peeling (adding water to lotion only lasts so long) and I won't be able to go anywhere because my car will be out of gas and it's over 100 degrees outside.

It's enough to get a girl down. Last week I had to buy two weeks worth of groceries on $80. But I did it! I was so proud of myself that I bragged to the checkout lady, who didn't care one iota. This morning I realized that my littlest brother is turning 15 next Saturday. The thought of having to give him a crappy homemade birthday card that says "I'm sorry I suck. But I love you!" made my stomach sick. So I did something crazy. I gathered up all the jewelry my ex ever gave me and I sold it. I got $100 for it all. They even pulled out the gemstones for me to keep.

I thought I'd be sad. But I wasn't. I felt triumphant. And maybe a little liberated. I took a problem and I found a solution for it. I didn't have to borrow, beg or steal. I didn't cry and I didn't have a pity party. After pulling out the money for my brother, I went out and bought myself a bottle of wine... on discount, of course. I don't know what I'll do when this money runs out. I'm out of jewelry and Hoop isn't going to restock me ;). But maybe I'll have work by then. Are you listening, Job Fairy? That was a hint!

Have a wonderful weekend Homebloys.

I'll think of you over a glass of wine.

Rules To Blog By

A real life friend, and part-time lurker, has decided to open his own blog- The Beer Geek. Feel free to stop by and haze him. As the bored good Blogger that I am, I have decided to compile a list of Blogging rules to help him and other noobs out. Feel free to join in on that too.

1. Never start a post with an apology for the stupid post ahead...
2. ...or the words "I have nothing to say" followed by details.
3. Great opening lines include the words booger, dinosaur, Chuck Norris, waffle and pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism.
4. Blogging requires no educational background (obviously)...
5. ...but it helps if you can at least site your sources.
6. Unless you have multiple personalities, you should limit yourself to no more than two blogs.
7. Having five blogs: one for what you ate, what movies you saw, what pictures you took, what you did on Monday and what strange materials you pulled out of your cat's hairballs is too much.
8. TALKING IN ALL CAPS SHOULD BE RESERVED FOR SHOUTING...
9. ...AND DOUCHEBAGS.
10. Nothing is private on the Internet. Nothing.
11. If you don't believe me, go ahead and post your social security number.
12. Don't write about anything that could get you fired, that you don't want your Mother or Lover to know, or that could possibly pin you to that Big Boy vandalism of '92.
13. I swear I don't know who drew a penis on that statue!
14. For the love of Jebus, please use spell chek.
15. When in doubt, list it out.

Pickled Beef Bison

There are some people who can whip things up without a recipe, innately knowing which flavors can mix and which can't. Then there are people like Hoop, the man who thought orange extract would make pizza sauce more zesty. It didn't; just in case you were wondering. Hoop isn't a bad cook. Really. He's rather good, when he follows a format. But he's not the best at improv. Ever since he discovering that our government has approved the integration of cloned meat and milk into our food supply, he's been boycotting beef.

I'm not complaining. I'm all for putting better things in our body. But boycotting beef is harder than it sounds for a man who loves burgers, meaty lasagna and tacos. Tuesday night, as we were at the grocery store, Hoop decided to buy a pound of Bison meat as a possible substitute. I came home last night to burgers. They looked beautiful. They smelled wonderful. Unfortunately, they didn't taste as good as they looked or smelled. "What do you think?" Hoop mumbled around his mouthful. "Um... Honestly? It's not very good."

Hoop stared at his burger suspiciously. "It does taste a little off. Do you think the meat is bad?" "No. It just doesn't taste very good." We chewed in silence for awhile, not willing to admit defeat or waste the food. I tried in vain to pinpoint the flavor. Nothing came to mind. "I was really hoping this would taste better," Hoop sighed while finishing the last bite. I frowned and nodded my agreement while cleaning up the plates. About five minutes later Hoop turned to me and said, "Do you think it was the vegetable oil?"

************

A few people have marveled at the smallness of the manatees in my Tuesday photos. To put it in perspective, the fish in that lone manatee shot is the size of my arm, my entire arm... including my weird elbow. I knew when I was taking the shots that it would be hard to gage their size without some reference. I thought about throwing something into the water while we were there, like maybe a can, or one of those small children running around the dock. But I didn't think the park rangers would like that very much.

************

I bought my little ninjas (Hiyeee and Ya!) at this etsy shop: Goose Grease. They're very small. I would not recommend them for children or really immature adults. Other cool ninja figures from Etsy can be found here, here, and here. You're welcome.

Is Mah Birfday!

Thank you all for the birthday wishes! The number of comments I got on Facebook was a bit staggering. A couple of members of my family-in-law recently "friended" me on there. They don't know I have a blog. I'm sure they're wondering how in the hell I know so many people. They probably think I'm a whore. I'm just kidding! They probably think I'm the Antichrist. For a birthday I wasn't all that excited about, I sure got spoiled.

My parents got me the "Little Big Planet" game and a grown-up watch. It doesn't even have numbers on it... OR cartoon characters! LBP (I'm using abbreviations cause I'm cool, not lazy, okay?) is quite possibly the most addictive video game I've ever played. It involves a sack boy, puzzles, and Monty Python style animation. Hoop likes to watch me play because I wiggle all over the couch with my tongue sticking out and yelling things like, "Get on that pony!"

My Grandparents got me a DS game (are you seeing a trend?) and some fancy lotion. Hoop's Mom and Grandma got me a $50 gift card to Barnes and Noble. My friend Sarge got me a $25 gift card to the online ILoveObento! store. My other friend, and coworker, got me a really pretty metal fairy figurine for my desk. Hoop brought me flowers this afternoon and took me out to lunch. Tomorrow we're playing hooky and driving out to a local spring to see some manatees!

So yeah, 26 has been pretty wonderful so far...

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I don't understand why people own pets that only like them.
Hoop: Because they can't find a home for an animal that doesn't like anyone.
Tink: True. At least our dogs are friendly.
Hoop: Duff's friendly, he's just scared of everything.
Tink: ...like hairdryers.
Hoop: ...and trees.
Tink: ...and chairs.
Hoop: ...and Ewoks.
Tink: Yes, let's not forget the Ewoks.

Have a fun and safe weekend Homebloys!

Something Like That

Work is always trying to suppress my primal urges. It's really a drag. We used to go outside and scream, back before Natalie Portman in "Garden State" made screaming cool. One of us would have a really shitty day and we'd just grab one of our coworkers and go scream outside. It was therapeutic. Apparently, work didn't think so. They thought it was scary. So, we don't scream outside anymore.

We used to have handheld computers that reminded me of old school Gameboys, but bigger, heavier and uglier. The day our company decided to upgrade was monumental. My coworkers and I wanted to celebrate "Office Space" style, with a ball bat. We even tried to grease the wheels by turning it into a fundraiser, $5 for three whacks. But the company refused, and there the handhelds have sat.

I'm trying to find a point for telling you this, some great metaphor about life (blah blah blah). But I don't have one. Sometimes, I just feel like being pointless. Tomorrow I'll be 26. I always thought I'd be a lot smarter at this age. But so far that's the only disappointment. I'm neither rich nor poor, defeated or bored. I have a husband who entertains me at 7am by pretending to be RoboCop.

Life can be good if you let it. Maybe not in a barrels-of-money kind of way. But definitely an extra-marshmallows-in-your-Lucky-Charms kind of way. I turn on the news each morning and I see a lot of people giving up. They forget what they have. You always have something. If it's not a job, it's family. If it's not family, it's your health. If it's not health, it's hope. If you don't have hope, then you're not looking hard enough.

The Mouth!

(CNN.com Front Page: 10/13/08 08:30am)

Weekend Recap:
1. My Grandfather turned 85 this Saturday! We celebrated by eating our weight in food.
2. On the menu: venison sausage, wild boar sausage, fried mullet (the fish, not the hair), fried catfish, cornbread hush puppies, BBQ chicken, green bean casserole, potato salad, baked beans, and cake.
3. I'm STILL full.
4. After dinner, Grandpa sat down with us to fine tune the wedding ceremony. He's the one who will be marrying us. He's a retired minister.
5. He also married my Mom... twice.
6. Hopefully that's not an unlucky sign.
7. Maybe it just didn't take the first time.
8. Sunday, Hoop and I went to the zoo. That was also supposed to be a family thing, but my family pussied out on account of the weather.
9. The weatherman said there would be a 70% chance of rain.
10. What we got was NO rain and a hella lot o' heat.
11. It was so hot, the monkeys barely had enough energy to eat their own poop.
12. Barely.
13. We weren't spared the horror of watching a monkey eat from his own butt like it was a Tootsie Roll factory.
14. Hey, speaking of really crappy experiences...
15. ...Until 30 minutes ago, I hadn't been able to get a hold of our DJ for five days.
16. ...Our cake people just tried to double charge me.
17. ...And our florist tried to charge me $1,000 extra for no reason.
18. I am SO ready for this wedding crap to be over!
19. Dear Jebus and the Flying Spaghetti Monster; if you get me through this without losing my mind, I swear I will try and be the happiest married person ever. Amen.
20. In other wedding news, Hoop's Mom gave us our wedding present yesterday. It was a set of Depression glass from the 1920's. It was very sweet of her. But, I have no idea what I'm going to DO with it. It's green. Jello green.

So, how was your weekend?

The Forehead!

For anyone who thought I was bullshitting yesterday...


(CNN.com Front Page: 10/10/08 08:52am)

5 Signs That We're In A Recession

(And it's all true!)

5. A new Salvation Army thrift store opened up down the street from our house last week. There were so many cars there, I thought the circus was in town.

4. Each morning, CNN.com's front page features a different guy on Wall Street holding his head in horror. I've started taking bets on where the next guy's hand placement will be. "Will it be on his forehead or his mouth? Oh! It was his cheek! Better luck next time." Can you imagine if that was your claim to fame? "Yeah, I was Tuesday's guy. My hand? It was on my chin. Why?"

3. Our neighbors have been holding a garage sale for over a month now. At what point does it qualify as a garage store? If you're asleep for a week, they don't call it a really long slumber. No, they call it a COMA.

2. One of our wedding guests ordered an extra meal so he'd have something to eat later.

1. The value of houses in Florida has dropped so much, Hoop and I may OWE the bank by the time we sell. On the other hand, the value of *porn has gone way up. So, we might be saved.

*Have I mentioned that Hoop collects Playboy cards? Apparently, when people believe the world is ending, they hoard the things they're going to miss the most. For some people it's cheese in a can. For others, it's girls with hand-bras.

Ho Hum

Today, I am the laziest person alive. Enjoy my lame attempt to fill a post by answering some of your comments from yesterday's post here, instead of in the comment section where this kind of crap belongs. I'm sorry. Ok, I'm not. But that shouldn't stop you from loving me.

Knight said: Okay, I have it all figured out. What you need to do is convince your followers that Twisted Tink is actually the story of creation and make it the new bible like the scientologists did with the sci-fi book. If they believe you hold the keys to their happiness and afterlife they will start giving you money so you will help them. Just imagine, you could have a huge group of people that follow you around dressed as fairies and believing you have magical powers.

You. Are. Brilliant! Maybe I could recruit the real, live Peter Pan to be my pope. We'd have a holiday every Monday. Casual Fridays would mean coming to work in your PJ's, drunk. Wings would be mandatory, obviously. But the dudes could wear black ones, with spikes on them. I'm not picky. All I would require is your absolute submission... Just like the government. I would totally rock as Ruler.

Mamatulip said: Tell me about the follow feature. Is it like Twitter? I'm not on Blogger so I have no idea what you're talking about.

I'm not exactly sure how it works either. All I know is that when you log on to your Blogger account, there's a little icon that says "Followers". When you click on it, it shows you who has pledged to be your loyal henchman (or woman) for all of time. Pretty neat, huh? So far I have eleven henchpeople.

Apathy Lounge said: Books, The Office, reruns of The Gilmore Girls. Toast with butter. Chocolate milk. Mexican beer.

I heart Jim. Is it deranged that I think I would LIKE working in that office?

Michael Knight Rambo said: I always wanted to be a cult leader. I like the idea of sitting around drinking and sleeping with my hot followers while they make me money and do my laundry and stuff. Plus you can make them do silly shit like chanting and whatnot. I tried to start one at work a few years ago but I'm just too lazy and have no follow through. Sigh. Good Luck!

See, that's where you screwed up. There are supposed to be incentives to joining a cult. Like free drugs... or WINGS. P.S. I've been dying to ask you, what's the story behind your name?

Chris said: Y'know, I think you can create your own Wikipedia page - you and Hoop should go for it!

I could; but who would read it? I'm waiting until we get famous (or infamous) first.

One Daisy said: I am currently worshiping batteries. They seem to be a girls best friend. I could be the Duracell Queen and wear a head garment made of copper. Of course I would be wearing fabulous shoes too.

No, a vibrator is a girl's best friend. But hey, maybe that's where all your batteries are going. ;)

Alli said: I would totally join your cult. totally. as long as you don't make me wear squirrel feet in my hair. By the way, I decided you look like a young Diane Lane. Have you been told that a million times?

I haven't! But I'm really flattered. Thank you. Let's do a comparison.

Diane Lane-


Tink-

Hot picture, huh?

Speaking of hot pictures, check out this ad I saw on Facebook:


Oh crap, I'm out of time! I had other things to say too. Like, what the hell is hot bologna in a jar?! This is really going to aggravate Jay . He hates when I only reply back to some of the comments and not all of them. Oh well. I guess I'll have to make him co-cult leader.

Have a great/safe weekend Homebloys!

My Own Cult

I've been busy. So, I hadn't really gotten the chance to check out Blogger's new "Follower" feature until today. So far, I have seven followers. SEVEN. Whoo! I'm thinking five more and I can consider myself a cult. But don't worry, no free Kool-aid here. No way, baby. You want Kool-aid, you're going to have to PAY for it. On a side note, does anyone else think it's kind of crazy that people in the 30's actually took to something that implied they needed an aid to be cool? Of course, it was during the Great Depression. I'm sure morale was pretty low.

Since we're not going to be having Kool-aid, and I'm not creative enough to design my own supreme being, I'm thinking my cult should revolve around Spore. Spore is my new obsession and cults are all about obsessions, aren't they? I created my own world last night (Tinktopia) and started my own colony of single cell organisms (Widgets). They ate other organisms and eventually (45 minutes later) they had evolved to be land dwellers. Holy crap, I think that makes ME a supreme being! I wonder if I could add the Widgets to my list of followers. Their brains are only the size of lint balls though.

Maybe my cult could be about this guy. His site, The Best Page In The Universe, kept me entertained for hours yesterday while I was supposed to be working. He's even got his own Wikipedia page. That's like having King status in the land of nerd. My favorite line on his Wiki page is, "Maddox decided to name his site 'The Best Page in the Universe' despite his knowledge that Yahoo! blocked sites with the phrase 'the best' in the title from inclusion in its search engine". For real? We need to test this out... OK, I just did. It's bullshit.

So tell me, if you had a cult, what would you worship? I need ideas so I can steal them. Would it be your favorite TV show? How about your favorite band? Maybe you would base your cult around belly lint and then create a tapestry out of all the different colors you collect! Hey, it could be kind of cool. Gross, but cool. Hey, maybe I should Google that... Holy cow! I just found a forum where a dude claimed he would pay $40 a pound for Vegan belly lint. Don't believe me? Go here. Or, you could just read his post below.

"THERE IS A PRIZE OF 1,000 ZIASTERS FOR THE MOST CREATIVE OBJECT OR IMAGE CREATED WITH BELLY BUTTON LINT. I AM TRYING TO COLLECT IT FOR MY PROJECT. (SECRET) AND AM WILLING TO PAY $40 A POUND FOR VEGAN LINT. I DON'T WANT ANY ANIMAL FLESH INVOLVED IN ANY WAY. I AM USING THE AZTEC AND MAYAN RECIPE FOR BELLY BUTTON LINT AND I STAND A REAL GREAT CHANCE. I ONLY NEED 2 MORE POUNDS. DON'T SEND ANYTHING MOLDY OR RANCID. I ONLY WANT THE 'BEST'."

Daily Etsy Pick:
Sleep Mask by Lovelyart
Puppy With Handlebar Mustache Cards
Golden Rain Tree Seed Tin

WTF Etsy?:
Warning: Evil Baby
Taxidermy Squirrel Foot Hair Barrette
Urine Sample Candle

Something Else

I realize I've been kind of negative lately, what with talk of termites, wedding woes, and gripes about America. I'm not going to do that today...

I just thought I'd let you know.

Shit That Rocks

1. Two of our fellow bloggers (and personal friends of mine), Newt and OneDaisy, are trying to raise money for MS. They're going to put those cute feet of theirs to work and they need some sponsors! No donation is too small. Have a heart, click over to Feets Of Fancy. A special spork-themed award to anyone who participates.

2. My company's key account manager and I had geared up all morning for yet another long, boring webinar. But just as the conference was starting, and I had wondered aloud whether we even needed to be there, the webinar went down. "Maybe we should wait?" I asked. But the KAM was already shutting things off. "Looks like no webinar today!" He replied cheerfully. Before I'd even had a chance to move from my chair, he was out the door. "Where are you going?" I asked him. "Fishing!" And he was serious! Thank God for Florida living.

3. This place:

Obviously, since I don't own a helicopter, I did not take this picture. But it's beautiful, isn't it? Somewhere down there is Hoop's and my ceremony location. I should have pictures of it specifically in the next two weeks. Yay!

4. "The Story Of Stuff", an awesome website that Mike sent me to. The video is 20 minutes long, but well worth it. My Mom actually thanked me for sending it to her and plans on incorporating it into an article she's writing for her business website. You should check it out. It may just change your life.

Tell me some other shit that rocks.

Angora Goat

When someone gives you an award for saying something quotable, it's important not to sound like a total dumbass in your acceptance post. Which explains why I drew a blank this afternoon when trying to think of clever ways to say how honored I am to receive these...

(Click 'em; they're links)

...from Musing over at Blogtations, possibly one of the most addictive sites EVER. This said by the chick who spends several hours a week on Etsy, Facebook, Flickr, and Neopets. Yes, I said Neopets. I happen to like the games on there, oh-kay?

While I was sitting here, staring at my empty post and waiting for a muse, something strange happened. I heard beeping. For a moment I wondered if it was all in my head. No one else in the office had even paused from what they were doing to listen to it. Maybe, I thought, I had finally pushed my brain too far and it was just warning me that it was shutting down for good. "Hey! Hey you! I thought you might like to know that you have approximately two minutes before I turn out the lights. Thanks again for the free room and board."

Then I came to my senses, got out of my chair and followed the sound to the dying smoke alarm across the room. "Is anyone going to do anything about this?" I asked the four strapping young men at the main desk. One of them climbed up on the counter, removed the batteries and then climbed back down again. "Problem solved," he said while plopping the warm batteries in my hand. Just peachy. I wonder how many other alarms they've "fixed" in just the same way. Reminder to brain (who has, in fact, NOT vacated yet): Don't keep important things at work anymore.

After I came back to my desk there was still the matter of coming up with a clever post. Maybe I could turn something that rhymes with "quote" into a witty title! No seriously, this was an actual thought. So I looked up the word "quote" in the rhyming dictionary. Did you even know such a thing existed? These were the suggestions it gave me: Angora goat, banana boat, cereal oat, raw throat, mackinaw coat, straw vote, root beer float. Wow. Having a rhyming dictionary is even LESS useful than I thought it would be.

So now that I have blatantly wasted your time and completely strayed from the subject of this post... Go! Check out Musing's blog. You won't be disappointed. Maybe if you're lucky and get an award for saying something clever, YOU won't make a total ass out of yourself during your acceptance post. At the very least, don't mention that you have an unhealthy obsession with a site that features virtual pets for little kids. Even if your "pet" is a cute little red Grundo wearing flaming shoes named Luki. Aw. Thanks again Musing!

Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta

Hoop had a dream last night that I cheated on him with a Gangster...

He was tipped off when I bought a bunch of "How To Make Gang Signs" books.

We played the new Grand Theft Auto last night before bed. You don't think that had anything to do with it, do you? Because I was getting pretty into it. For awhile I was just walking around knocking grocery bags out of people's hands and then running. Then I spent twenty minutes looking for a hooker before Hoop pointed out that it was daylight and they were probably all sleeping. Oh man, I can't wait to see the search terms I get from that sentence.

I had serious issues when it came to driving in the game though. It turned out to be a lot more complicated than real life. I tried to scratch my butt while turning and ended up on the wrong side of a cliff (the bottom). Then I *accidentally beat up a bum and the police came to get me. I tried to surrender but they shot me dead in the street anyway. Evidently, as in real life, cops are dicks. *I was attempting to steal his metal drum filled with fire and his face connected with my hand. Dude should have gotten out of my way.

Speaking of bums... If someone were to interview a bunch of bums and then publish their work, would you read it? *Cough* Theoretically speaking, of course. When I asked Hoop the same question he didn't answer. But he did suggest a title. "Bum Juice." Bum. Juice. I don't know either. I think he might be sniffing glue at work. Our receptionist just nonchalantly sent out a page that we should avoid a certain highway because the police are having a shootout. I just looked it up and according to the news, the shootout was with a bum.

Whoa.

T1ts & A55

Thanks to all who listened to Hoop bitch below about his horrible coworker.

Because if he mentioned her one more time to me, I was going to scream.

Speaking of Ginger, apparently she called out with Infantigo this morning. As in, that skin rash that generally only effects two through six year olds. Yeah, I think she's sleeping with her doctor.

I opened up my email box this morning to a bunch of interesting spam. By "interesting" I mean bizarre. How do spamers come up with this stuff? Do they have computer programs that generate random garbage? You'd think they would at least be equipped with spellcheck. I can understand the substitution of certain words, like "b@@bies" and "pen1s". But what's up with all the general grammatical errors? "Millionss of people accross the world have already tested THIS and ARE making their girlfriendds feel brand new sexual ssensations! YOU are the best in bed, aren't you?" Compliments from a stutterer perhaps?

Others are just pure nonsical. "There were four furnaces here, and they were all between plaisance and the coupee. What do you to thaw!" Wha? "A hedgehog to a lamb. If you had consulted me i should are like oil and wick exist, so long the light." Whatever you say, dude. Why don't they fill their emails with more interesting substance, like stories? They could even stuff them with subliminal messaging, or leave them with cliffhangers. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful business woman who had it all. But she was still unhappy. So she paid an under ground witch doctor to create a spell to..." Please click on link below to finish story.

LINK

Hoop and I had a pretty eventful weekend.

Friday night we went touring the area and got my SUV stuck in a ditch. I would like to add that Hoop was driving. I have no ideas of grandeur when it comes to my vehicle. I KNOW it's a piece of shit. After a half an hour of pushing, turning, and rocking the vehicle we resorted to destruction of public property. In short, I busted up an old barrier fence so I could lay down a track for my car to drive on. It didn't work. So much for being clever. Fed up and muddy, we decided to ask the local fishermen for help. They all declined. We must have looked pretty pathetic though, because one came back. With our powers combined... we got the stupid vehicle out.

Saturday afternoon we went to the county fair. We weren't expecting much, but it ended up being the best fair ever. There were sea lions there. Holy shit, SEA LIONS! They were right next to the Frisbee-catching dogs and the live butterfly exhibit. Afterward, we stopped by a nature park near our house we'd never noticed before. Evidently, we need to start being more observant. This park featured a sulfur spring, a beautiful view of the river, and tree houses. If it were better maintained, we might have even considered it for our ceremony location. A dilapidated lodge probably isn't the best backdrop for a wedding though.

Saturday night, Hoop and I drank beer and played with polymer clay. There have always been things I just assumed I'd be good at. Oddly, photography was never one of them. But for some strange (and obviously deluded) reason, I always believed I'd be a wiz with clay. And I am, if anyone is looking for a bunch of clay snakes or squiggles. I also make a mean circle. Sunday, Hoop and did yard work all day. For me, that constituted as yanking all the vines that have taken over our surrounding bushes and trees. By the time I was done, I had a four foot high pile and our shrubs looked rather naked. I think I scared one of the neighborhood kids on my way to the end of the driveway. Wrapped in vines, I looked like a large walking plant with arms.

How was your weekend?

The Beer Bunny

You guys crack me up with all your compliments. Neutrogena ads indeed. Ha! I should probably mention that I own Photoshop, and use it liberally. I actually considered posting the unedited picture for you... But then the crazy wore off. You'll just have to imagine the red, puffy, blotchy face that came after a half hour of cussing and crying on Sunday afternoon. Obviously NOT the same face you see posted below. But thank you kindly anyway. I love you even though you're a bunch of ass kissers.

Oh, and for those who missed my answer in Tuesday's comments:

The "I Love My Hooker" sticker is one of the originals, believe it or not. It actually says, "I Love My Hooker Header", but I covered "Header" with magnets that say "unfortunate for him" some years ago. Hooker Headers sells racing equipment, so I can only assume the sticker was given to me by my Mom's second husband (an avid racing fan). Which could be kind of disturbing. Anyhoop, you can still find them on Ebay if you're interested.

I had a dream last night that the muscle in my left arm separated from the bone, causing it to look like I had a gigantic fleshy wing. Instead of fixing it, the doctors told me to start practicing how I posed my arm so it wouldn't show in Hoop's and my wedding photos. I remember being kind of disappointed that the wing didn't grant me the power to fly. I think this wedding is seriously fucking with my head guys. Although thankfully I'm not alone. Hoop had a dream that I ran away from home, never to be seen again.

We're heading to Tennessee after work tomorrow for the Easter Holiday. We went as far as getting Monday off, servicing Hoop's car, and washing all the clothes before we realized we hadn't actually told Hoop's Dad that we were coming. That could have been interesting. Drive eleven hours just to find out that no one is home. I think I might have kept going. I hear Canada is nice. By the way, I won't be blogging Monday. I'll be too busy driving the eleven hours back. One of you homebloys wouldn't happen to have a private jet, would you?

No? Just checking.

I heard of a strange Easter custom the other day. According to one of the local rednecks, a bunch of people freeze cans of beer the night before and then hide them like eggs for all the adults to find. You get to drink the ones you uncover. I tried to talk Hoop into doing it, but he didn't seem convinced. Apparently he doesn't believe in adopting local customs. So what about you? Does your family do anything out of the ordinary for the holidays? It doesn't have to be this holiday. I'm just looking for a few good traditions.

Paper Cups

Hoop crashed out at seven o'clock on Saturday night, leaving me to my boredom and a six pack of Bacardis. Before I drank, I tried to fight the monotony with origami. I'll admit, I had dreams of grandeur. Without having ever made so much as a paper fan, I was already visualizing the swans and tulips I was going to create. I was going to be a natural. Hoop was going to wake up in the morning to a house full of elegant paper art and exclaim that I was a genius.

After two hours, my excitement had waned, leaving me with a colorful pile of paper balls. Paper cups seemed to be the only thing I was capable of making. Although to be fair, I made a paper piano too, but it looked more like a bench than anything. It was as I was cleaning up the cups that I started to wonder if the things could actually hold water. Hey, if the end of the world ever comes, it might be nice to have someone in your party that can make a usable cup...

...or boat. In which case, I am NOT your chick. Sorry.

Any guesses what I filled my cup with? Bacardi. Then I thought, "Well, I shouldn't waste the rest of the bottle." I'm sure this is how all alcoholics begin, with origami cups. So I took my six pack into the computer room and I closed the door. It was around two in the morning that I started to wonder if I was drunk. The six pack was gone and I had filled my IPod with (*now questionable) music. I decided I would test my theory by blogging.

Unfortunately I forgot to post it, thus proving that I was probably pretty toasted. I opened my Blogger dashboard this morning, saw the post and thought, "Oh yeahhhhh. THAT'S what I did on Saturday night!" It was kind of fortunate too I guess. Not because I'm not going to give it to you, but because it really needed an introduction. So... Ta-dah. Here is your introduction. Now enjoy the stupid show:

I thik maybe I'm drunk. Just a little bit. Am still very witty though. I cracked myself up just a moment ago. Hey, I sound like Bridget Jones! Blah, blah, blah. I have a cute British accent. Blah, blah, blah. Can't talk in complete sentences. What the hell is up with that? I wanted to go through her diary with a red pen. If there is anyone who needs an editor for her own private thoughts, it's that broad. Although I probably need a sensor for mine. Someone to rate things before I say them. "Sorry, I can't let that one out. It's an 'R' and we're clearly in a 'PG13' environment. I'll just file that away until tonight. What about this? It involves puppies. Nice, safe, puppies. There you go." Wow. I am so self entertaining. I wonder what Hoop is dreaming about. Maybe I should go tickle his toes and find out? Peace out Homebloys.

*On a separate note, one of the songs I downloaded on Saturday night is titled, "Music is my hot, hot sex." I'm afraid to listen to it.

How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?

I Hate Elves

I had a meeting in Orlando yesterday for work. Here are the notes I took:

"Does anyone else find it disconcerting that there are so many elves in the work field? Rice Crispie has them. Keebler has them. Santa has a whole shop of them! I seriously suspect the Lucky Charms leprechaun is really an elf in disguise. Are they cheaper? Are they able to work longer hours? Please, I want to know. Because I think it's awfully unfair that they've cornered the market like they have. I like toys and food! I don't even mind wearing pointy shoes."

This came after I snagged a chocolate chip cookie from the snack tray and realized it had fudge in the middle. FUDGE... in my COOKIE. Like, it wasn't really a cookie at all, but rather a fudge square disguised with a delicious looking cookie shell. But I wouldn't really know that because there wasn't even enough cookie to pick off. I of course blamed the Keebler elves. They're obviously fucking with us.

As you can tell, I learned a lot from this meeting.

In Other News:

Tom Cruise is crazy. Surprise, surprise. Watch this video as he explains his views on Scientology. At least that's what I think he's doing. I didn't actually understand anything he said other than "you're either in it or not," a dozen times. I get it dude. You have to join the cult to get the free punch. I think I'll pass.

Hoop and I watched "Hellboy" two nights ago. The movie makes a reference to Rasputin, who (until this film) I hadn't known much about. Then Hoop mentioned some old legend about Rasputin defying death despite being poisoned, shot, and stabbed. So of course I had to google the man. What I read wasn't nearly as fascinating as this picture I found. Check out the chick with the mustache. Egad. Did they not have wax back then?!

Anyhoop, I'm out of rambles. Hope your day is going well homebloys!

Where one ramble leads to another...

"Come over tomorrow night and help us unload the air hockey table," I told Nash on Wednesday. "Then we'll drink beer and play a few rounds." So he passed the word to Bob, who gladly agreed to come. Both arrived on time, unaware that the table had to be ASSEMBLED too. "What the fuck?" Nash said after spying the box of over two hundred screws. "This is going to take all night!" And it did. The boys were still piecing together the legs when I fell asleep at eleven. I woke up an hour later to Hoop shaking me. "It's done, baby!" He hissed in my ear. So I shuffled out to the garage, kicked their asses in a couple games, and went to bed.

To be fair, Bob was behaving as if he'd never played air hockey before, swinging his pusher around like a gorilla with a broken arm. The dogs were so freaked out by his antics that they attacked him. Jazzi, the dog who loves everyone, actually seemed to be enjoying mauling his shoe. I guess even dogs have breaking points. Bob's a cool guy to hang out with... If you're human. He'll do anything you dare him to do. ANYTHING. The boy seems to live solely for the purpose of entertaining us. We have to reign ourselves in from daring him to do things that might get us in trouble. Because once you start Bob, there's no turning him off.

The truly odd thing about Bob is that he's all impulse and no thought. He lies for no reason at all. He'll say he's drunk when he's not. He'll bail because he "just got a call," when it's obvious that his phone hasn't rang all night. You'll call him for days only to have him tell you that his phone just got cut off. "Then how am I talking to you now?" You'll say. Then he'll sputter and exclaim, "Well look at that!" Nash met Bob when they were just old enough to have jobs. Bob was sleeping in a maintenance closet. They were both fired a few months later. The next job they got together was at the movie theater. The night they started was the night I quit.

The whole crew quit that night, actually. Corporate had sent a mole to scout out our operation. Apparently our drug dealing manager was not to their liking. WE loved her just fine though. In between sets she would meet us out back with a joint and a bucket of popcorn. Bob had just walked into the back room to clock in. "Good luck tonight," I told him as I peeled off my company-issue shirt and vest. I tossed it to him, standing there in nothing more than my bra and black pants. "Where are you going?" He asked us. I slipped a t-shirt on. "We're out of here, man. They just fired Donna."

Nash was working the ticket counter when we left. Little did I know I'd be engaged to his brother seven years later. We came back that night with free ticket passes. "How's it going?" We giggled to the only two guys on staff. Nash just glared at us. Later that night my friend T, also a former movie theater employee, tried to steal the "Bedazzled" poster for me. I'd had it earmarked for my Mom, an avid Brendan Fraser fan. I was supposed to be lookout. Unfortunately for T, the mole had locked up the cases. After a bit of struggle, the frame broke under her prying fingers, sending the hard plastic cover crashing to the ground. I looked back to see T fleeing, the poster waving behind her like a flag.

I've always kept odd company. It's not intentional... To my knowledge. One of my current friends, also a coworker, is a 31 year old spinster. Not my label. Hers. You'd think a woman's ovaries dry up at thirty, listening to her. For the last four years her mission has been to land herself a husband. I feel bad for all the men that make a pit stop in her bed. This newest love, she's been dating him for two months, barely made it through Christmas alive. He bought her a new washer and dryer, a new flat screen TV, and an alarm system for the trailer she's renting. Still... She was convinced he was getting her an engagement ring. "There's a jewelry box under the tree!" She insisted repeatedly.

Christmas Eve she told me, "If it's not a ring, I'm going to be SO mad." "Do you hear yourself?" I asked her. "You're fucking crazy." She sent me a text on Monday night. "It was a frog paperweight." I couldn't stop laughing. I literally had to pull off the road for a moment. "Poor girl," I wrote back. "You really are your own worst enemy." She was fine again on Wednesday morning. "Maybe for Valentines," she told me cheerfully. "He could put it in a box of chocolates." I don't think I'm going to invite her to our wedding. I don't think it would be good for her mental health. She might kill the other women vying for the bouquet.

Hope you have a great weekend!

*Hic* Who's Sneaking Booze?

I saw a Zephyrhills truck pull out of a fire station this morning...

Apparently, it's what fires prefer.

Do you think Alvin the Chipmunk had ADHD?

I wonder if there's traffic on Santa Claus Lane.

Is dreaming of a white Christmas racist?

I bet the North Pole is where all the elves from Lord Of The Rings went.

How nasty would it be to ACTUALLY get two front teeth for Christmas?

I mean seriously, where did they come from?!


(Click for larger image)

See you all on Wednesday!

Modern Day Prince

I may hate our house. But I do love my other half. Hoop and I attended a dinner last night at one of the most fancy restaurants in town. His regional manager was buying and all of Hoop's coworkers were guaranteed to attend. The significance of such a dinner was not lost on me. So I dug through my limited wardrobe for something nice to wear and came up with...

Nothing.

Actually, I found a badly rumpled skirt and about five long sleeve blouses. LONG SLEEVE blouses. I'd like to say that they originated from a time when I didn't live in Florida. But I can't. I moved here eleven years ago. "I'm not going," I told Hoop. "Why? You look gorgeous!" He said, eyeing the clothes I'd thrown on for work. "I look like I work at Walmart!"

When I started with this company they requested all office personnel wear casual dress clothes. It didn't take long for me to realize that they meant anything not made out of jeans or bearing another company's logo. The few times I've worn a skirt, everyone panics and assumes I have a job interview. So over the years my clothes have dwindled down to a few nice dress pants and a bunch of solid colored t-shirts from Target.

One t-shirt wears out, I buy another. It's easy and there's no need for color coordination. Everything goes with black, brown, tan, or white. I didn't start buying bright colored t-shirts until someone asked me if I was going to a funeral, and I wasn't. The outfit I was wearing yesterday was a pair of chewed up black boots, a pair of nice gray slacks, and a blue shirt with faint bleach stains on it.

I was mortified at the thought of showing up to the fancy dinner dressed that way. "We'll figure something out," Hoop said before leaving. I knew "figure it out" meant me having to spend my lunch knee deep in the Outlet sale racks. So it came as a surprise when Hoop called at lunch to ask my shoe size. "I found the most gorgeous dress! You're going to love it," he said. "I think they have shoes that will match."

Any scepticism I might have had was diminished by the elation I felt at having Hoop take up the cause. I knew in that moment that I was going to wear whatever he bought, no matter what it looked like, proudly and without hesitation. "You're buying shoes too?" "They have a pair that match it perfectly." "But what if they don't fit?" "I'll buy two sizes and take back the one that doesn't work."

Beaming, I ran off to get some nail polish and gloat to anyone who would listen. Two hours later, Hoop called back. "The girls at work say it's not a dress." "It's not a dress?" "No, they say it's a shirt and now I'm worried that it's going to be too short." I had to laugh. The ladies Hoop work with are quite a bit bigger than me. "It'll be fine." Hoop hung up feeling reassured. I hung up hoping I was right.

At 5:30 I started to worry. Hoop and I had agreed to meet halfway between his work and mine at a truck stop. If the dress ended up being too short, I was out of luck. When Hoop pulled up he looked anxious. "Here you go," he said, handing me the bag. The dress (it WAS a dress) was beautiful. "Do you like it?" "I love it!" Bag in hand, I rushed to the bathroom to change.

Not wanting to walk barefoot in a public restroom, I waited until we got back to the car to switch shoes. As I exited the stall wearing the beautiful dress, black combat boots and white socks, a woman stopped to admire. "That's an... interesting outfit." She was obviously jealous. Not everyone can pull off a G.I. Jane combo. Hoop glowed as I rounded the corner. I never thought it possible, but I think I loved Hoop even more in that moment.

The dinner went really well. We ate a gross amount of food and thoroughly enjoyed the company and good conversations. After dinner, Hoop dropped me off at the truck stop to pick up my car. I'm sure that was a sight. A woman exiting a man's car at a truck stop wearing really nice clothes? Hm. I didn't really think about it until several loitering truckers turned to stare. I could practically hear the tongue wagging.

Fortunately, my shoes weren't of the appropriate "Come Fuck Me" height, so no one bothered me on the short walk to the car. Having worked with truckers, I'm familiar with the term "Lot Lizard." Truckers are also good for jokes. Especially jokes involving blondes or Michael Jackson. How do you know it's bedtime at Neverland Ranch? When the big hand touches the little hand. Ha ha ha. *Groan*

After picking up my car we drove to the grocery store. Hoop's office is having a pot luck tomorrow and he was put in charge of dessert. As we pulled into the parking lot I realized I hadn't taken any pictures at dinner. Even worse, no one had taken a picture of Hoop and I all dolled up. So I stopped the nearest couple leaving the store. "Could you please take a picture of us?" The woman looked absolutely confused.

"Picture?" "Yeah. We just left a fancy party and I realized no one took a picture of us in our nice clothes." "You want a picture?" I nodded and handed her the camera. "You want a picture in front of the grocery store?!" Apparently she wasn't getting the question. I had asked if she would mind taking a picture, NOT if she approved of the idea. She finally took one. "Thanks!" I yelled as she quickly fled from me.

It was then that I noticed she'd taken a picture of our heads. Fortunately, I was able to find another person who understood my instructions. They were no less confused, mind you, but at least they didn't ask too many questions. So here you have it, a picture of Hoop and I all dressed up. Don't you love my outfit? Hoop did so well! I think I'm going to have him pick out ALL my clothes. How's that sound, Hoop?



Have a great three day weekend! I'll see you guys on Tuesday.