Saturday, April 28, 2007

Chocoholics Anonymous...

Sometimes you just have to face facts and realize - you have an addiction.

Case in point.  On Friday I was working at VoiceboxX.  The rain was at bay.  The sun was shining and birds were chirping.  It was a beautiful day.

Ashley, my co-worker, came in the door, back from lunch with her mother. 

"Hey," she said, "I have some chocolate from mom.  It's Russel Stover's.  Want some?"

She put the box on the divider between my desk and hers.  Unable to resist - I reached for it and - fell on my face.  My office chair's wheels (apparently greased) flew out from under me and I sailed through the air like a very ungraceful and chubby non-winged creature.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?!" both Ashley and Heather shrieked as I remained on all fours, laughing.

I stood up slowly and said: "I will never live this down.  A fat girl, reaching for chocolate and falling flat on her face."

I told Harry about it later and, trying to be supportive, he only laughed for five minutes straight.  "Well," he said between giggles, "did you at least eat the chocolate?"

I paused.  "Well... yeah."




Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Nip, Tuck in WV? Okay, sign me up!

As some of you know, I have been going through dentist visits after dentist visits to fix my front tooth.  Since I am a week shy of getting a new front cap, I have decided to try to create the process digitally:

Wow - my chin looks pointy, too.  And the nonsaturation of color really didn't help with the "hey, her teeth are perfectly white," look.  Hmmm.  Let's try again:Nope - still can't tell. And the ears, well, they're a tad distracting!  Hey - check out my shorter hair!  hee hee! 

How about this one?

                 Tiffany, on the right, suffered through just as many orthadontic appointments as I, but icurred no tragic fall that left her toothless.  You can see my right front tooth looks a bit, well bucktoothy.  That's my fake'un.  I will post "after" pics as soon as I get my new cap.  I'm a bit giddy about it. 

I'm thinking about falling up my "cap-ectomy" with a nose job.  Get rid of that pesky bump on the bridge.  I told my dear sweet grandmother about my plans for rhinoplasty and she said: "Might as well... (insert long, dramatic hillbilly pause here).  Have you been working out?"  In other words: "fix your teeth all you want, yer nose, too, but you'll still have a fat ass."

Gotta love Grandmothers.  They get right to the point.  Even if it is, well, a tad pointy.

I'm off to bed, finally.

No more posts tonight.


Go to sleep. 

I will be in bed.  Hopefully NOT dreaming AGAIN of a spider lurking over my head. It's been four nights in a row and it's really getting ridiculous.  Sunday was the worst, though.  I'd just woken from another arachnid-related nightmare and turned to ask Harry to hold me lovingly when - HE ELBOWED ME IN THE EYE. 

I think I'll take the spider over THAT any day....

Good night!                          

Honeymoon, in the Month of June

Since I've not posted very often, I am going to take this time to post last month's VoiceboxX article about my less than enchanting honeymoon cruise. 

My marriage to Harry didn't start off with so much as a bang but a snooze and a slide.

Read on!

            Four years ago this June, I was married and set sail on a beautiful tropical excursion.

            This is the story of that horrifying experience, courtesy of Norwegian Cruise Lines. 

            Immediately after our nuptials had commenced, cake had been eaten and confetti had been plucked from expensive up-do’s, Harry and I hopped back into our stretch limo and headed to the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Columbus airport to board our plane to THE Honeymoon destination of choice:  Hawaii.

            “Wow. We’ve got a long day of plane-switching ahead of us,” Harry said as we hungrily downed our packed dinner that my mother, the ex-wedding planner, had so thoughtfully packed for us.  “Well, one of us better be alert!” And just like that, he was out.  Snoring peacefully in the fetal position across the leather seat, Harry was probably dreaming of Klipsch speakers while I stared at his sleeping form.  Any hope I may have had of a limousine-related romantic interlude was dashed as Harry drooled slightly onto the headrest. 

            For four hours I listened to easy rock stations while the limo driver eased the vehicle over the bumpy Ohio roads.  Three times I attempted to wake my sleeping and newly minted husband but to no avail.  Arriving four hours before the airport even opened, I had yet to catch even a small power nap and felt as if my contacts had been secretly switched with Tupperware bowls. 

            Finally, several hours and many coats of under-eye concealer later, we boarded a plane.  And then another.  And then another. I saw the airports of three major cities I hope never to return to and had eaten food that was questionable at best while running along beside my perky, well-slept husband.

            Sixteen hours after we said our “I do’s” we boarded a very large, very white, very full cruise ship.  The internationally eclectic group of crewmen and women were helpful in taking our luggage up to our room while we went in search of real, edible food that didn’t originate in an airport. 

            “Let’s go up here!”  Harry said as he smiled and rushed up two flights of stairs.  “No, wait.  Let’s go down to that other place on the lower deck!”  Flying past me at a speed usually reserved for road runners and Indy drivers, Harry bounced up and down the stairs.

            I grabbed his collar.  I was tired and more than a little cranky due to the loss of sleep, time and almost, at one point, my questionable airport lunch.

            “JUST.  PICK.  ONE,” I said to him slowly and a little too loudly.  

            “Okay, okay,” he said, giving me a big hug.  “Let’s not kill me on the first day of marriage…”

            Getting on the glass elevator with twenty of our shipmates someone asked us where we lived.  Feeling giddy I answered without thinking: “We’re from West Virginia!  It’s our first cruise and we’re on our honeymoon!  It’s been two days almost and we’ve yet to get any sleep!” I gushed.

            Harry looked at me in horror as the rest of the elevator snickered. 

            After finding out that the “deluxe food” offered by the cruise ship was really a creative way of saying “crappy food”, Harry and I settled on a plain hotdog, a plain hamburger and a retreat to our suite.  Stepping in to our cabin, I stared, transfixed at the sight in front of me: Twin beds.

            Made up singly and separated with a large nightstand the beds mocked our new marital status. I looked at my husband blankly. 

            “I’ll fix it,” he said.  It was four in the afternoon, Hawaii time, and I was barely conscious.  Part of my less-functioning brain was certain that I’d wake tomorrow, snug in my Barboursville home and the other half was half hoping it was true. 

            “See?  All better!”  Harry had squished the beds together and striped them with the blue comforters. 

            “Thank you, husband darling.  You may live to see tomorrow, after all.” I looked out at the dock through our window.  “Then again, we have a balcony.  So, maybe not…”

            After eating our found fare and watching three re-runs of “King of Queens” (one subtitled in Vietnamese) I fell asleep for the first time in days.  I awoke many hours later to find the ship moving and an intense need for the bathroom.  Realizing a little too late that I’d yet to master my sea legs, I lurched hard against the second bed.  Pausing, I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t woken Harry.

            But he was gone. 

            Panicked, I looked around the darkened room.

            That’s when I spotted it: A leg.  It was poking from between the beds, straight up in the air like a fleshy flag.  My sweet husband, who’d orchestrated the bed-fixing had managed not only to wedge himself into the crack, but to fall asleep there as well. 

            Leaning over to wake him, I paused. 

            Smiling, I thought of sweet revenge as I remembered the insomniac limo ride and my brand new husband sleeping like the dead while I remained uncomfortably alert for the entire drive.

            “Sleep good,” I whispered as I patted his curled toes arched in the air.

            Seven days, twenty-four episodes of “Kings of Queens”, and one unfortunate incident with a Swedish waitress later (“What?  You no like your tuna steak? Ohhh! You like dessert!”) Harry and I ran from our Norwegian honeymoon cruise clutching our luggage, our stomachs and our marriage with sweaty palms. 

Seasoned veterans will tell you that the first year of marriage is a trial by fire.  If my first week of wedded bliss was any indication, I think they just might be right.      


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Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I'm so EXCITED - oh yeah, and I got a new job, too!

The new domestic trailer has been released for HP5 - and you can see it on Holly's blog aka "The chick weirdly obsessed with a children's book and oddly proud of that little fact."


Oh - and I have been quietly obtaining Employment status again.  My bud, Alison, had an opening at her office and I'm once again going to be in the midst of the legal field. 

I will still (hopefully) be retaining my job as the Editor of VoiceboxX as well.  I really don't wanna give it up, but really I'm at the mercy of myn uber-cool boss, Heather!

Wish me luck!

Monday, April 23, 2007

Why Waiting Rooms Are Evil...

Last Friday I took Harry's Caddy down to the dealership to have the tires rotated and oil changed.  I decided to wait for the service in the miniscule and rather uncomfortable waiting area designated for those of us with car problems.

An older, bleached blonde woman sat to my right, talking loudly to an older gentleman at her side.  "The media's all evil."

I shuffled nervously and tried to tune her out as I pulled out my notebook and began writing a book review for VoiceboxX.

"They just feed off people," she said, repeating her disdain. "I mean, that Tom Cruise was paid, like, four million for pictures of his baby, and, I mean, who cares?!"

She crossed her legs importantly and a flash of rhinestone bounced off my eyes from her bespeckled faded jean jacket.

"Who cares?!" She looked around to make sure the waiting room was at her attention.  I grasped my notebook tighter and tried to come up with nice words for a not-so-nice review. 

"I mean, come on..."  She recrossed her legs. "I heard they were separating, anyway..."

I bit my tongue to not guffaw out loud. 

People, especially self-involved and over-opinionated people, completely crack me up.


Hot Stuff!

My friend, Della has finally entered the realm of publishing with her first erotic and oh-so-steamy novella, "Into the Flame."

Now, I've never been much for the whole books-as-porn thing, but Della goes beyone that stereotype and manages to interweave a wonderful story in between some scorching love scenes that are hot enough to melt the keys off of yer keyboard.

So, if you're even a bit curious about "Erotic" stories, click on the picture below and check out "Into the Flame" by "Jade Morrison."

It's a scorcher!


Thursday, April 19, 2007

MIA? Me? Nahhhhh....

I haven't posted anything in a coon's age so I thought I'd hop on here to let you know what's been happening with me in the past week.

1.  I had my teeth bleached professionally.  Not only am I $600 lighter and the new owner of day-glo teeth but I also get to experience "zingers" - sharp pains that course through my teeth at random intervals.  Yes. I paid for this torture.  Happily. Because when I replace my chiclet cap on my front tooth - my teeth will match.  Whoo hoo!

2.  Harry was gone this week. Leaving me to man the house.  Needless to say I didn't do crap.  He came home tonight and wanted to go out to dinner.  BBQ, of course, so we ate like two little piggies and then, out of the blue Harry commands "DANCE!" .  I'm a good lil' wife and a glutton for punishment so I start a nifty jig in my leather booth seat. The waitress appears and gives me a sideways glance as she drops the ticket and runs.  Harry laughs.  He did it on purpose.  He's evil.   When he sleeps tonight I shall convince Phoebe that his foot is a remote control.   Muah ha ha.

3.  Since he had been home all of two hours when his "Guitar Hero" buddies called, wanting rematches, I didn't think he'd actually be compelled to go.   "Can I?"  he asked eagerly, holding the phone away from his red ear.  "Well," I said coyly, "sure.  But ya know you could always stay and, well, ya know..."  I not so-subtly hinted.  Cartoon clouds of dust appeared as he high-tailed it out the front door and toward the splendor of Xbox 360.  Sigh.  Oh  well.  Romance, I guess, has been killed. A big, glowing green X over each of her eyes as I sit and watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while folding piles of orange and red man panties.  

4.  I read a book that was submitted to VoiceboxX for a review.  I really wish I hadn't.  And I wish I didn't have such a death grip on the old saying "If you can't say something nice..."

5.  I have an uncontrollable need to buy Avril Lavigne's new cd.  I need help.

And with that, rather unfortunate note, I leave you with some words of wisdom from Ms. Avril:

"No, no, no I don't like your girlfriend."  Wow - it's like Shakespeare reborn - with eyeliner and pink skull socks.   Yet, I must have it....





Friday, April 13, 2007

I Concede.

Maybe ya'all were right about my cat.

She does seem a bit, well, hostile, as of late.

Especially when I'm trying to read or watch tv...

Well, after four days of bickering, tears, and near bludgeoning (poor Harry) - I finally found a non-gas-guzzling SUV that I could actually drive without going into withdrawl.  Yup - we did it again - we traded off my Envoy Denali for a Pontiac GXP.

It's black and has large red gauges that measure your speed up to 160mph. Now - this is where living in WV kinda sucks (ya know, OTHER than the fashionista BLACK HOLE capital of the world) because, hypothetically speaking, should I be able to get up close to this proposed 160mph speed - I'm likely going to run into a pesky moutain or hillside. 

Right, Harry?  (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, crash, bang!)

Everyone have a wonderful weekend and - should you happen to be visiting WV  - please ignore any erratically driving Pontiacs that may be flying past you on the interstate.

That's just me.

Trying to break the sound barrier.

Update:  Apparently the above pic is not exactly my car.  I Googled it.  This picture came up. That's about as far as my techno savvy goes.  And, I guess, my power of observation.  So, according to Harry - I don't know my own car.

"And - you posted a picture of a two door" he says and chuckles at his own unabashed cleverness.

He better steer clear of the driveway.

That speedometer still registers at 160.  I'm pretty sure that it'll work in "Reverse" too - Zooom!  Scrreeeech!  Bang!  ahahahahah

Update #2:  "Heh, heh, heh.  Ya know - Reverse only has one gear," Harry points out.




Sunday, April 8, 2007

Easter Eggs, Bubbles and The Big "O"

After a mirth-filled day in good ol' Branchland where the many lil'uns hunted eggs while wearing felt bunny ears and opened cellophane baskets containing toys and then used those toys to turn their favorite aunt into a bubble-stuff sticky blob, Harry and I met his grandmother at the local Olive Garden.

Now, before I get the big long list of e-mails where everyone tells me how horrific and un-Italiana the big "O" is - lemmie just explain something:  My husband will not eat anything unless it is of four major food groups:  bread, potato, meat and, of course, sugar.  Since he's recently discovered pasta (and added a sixth food group to his stunted list) we've become regulars at the O Garden.  So it was only natural for us to meet his granny there for a little late Easter dinner.

We sat at our table and I immediately seized up.  Sweat beads appeared on my forehead, my freckles popped out, my eyes buldged because the table behind us had a man, a woman and two very rowdy kids seated at (and around) it.  The woman and the man ate, drank their large bottle of wine and seemed to be oblivious to the fact that their hellspawn were tripping waiters with pushbrooms, sneezing on clean tables and basically wreaking havoc.  I stared at the blonde woman as she emptied her glass and tried to communicate with her non-verbally, letting her know that she should, I dunno , parent her damn children. 

She ignored me and readjusted her napkin on her tacky pink and grey adidas track suit, circa 1995. 

Trying to carry on a conversation with Harry's older grandmother while the young boy, seven or eight years of age, yelled at every waiter that crossed his path is not an easy thing to do.  Especially when she starts nodding and you have no idea why... 

"Is this McDonald's? Are we in the Playplace by mistake?" I asked Harry as he stared at the couple who continued to slurp pasta while their two kids ran all over the restaurant. 

"I'm ready to yell at them," he said to me.

"Don't let me stop you," I said, half-hoping he'd stand up and dump his garlic-cream sauce over the head of the supposed father-figure.

Just when I could take no more of the screams, cries and catterwalling of the wilderbeast children, the foursome stood to leave.  Harry burst into laughter - sniggering hartily into his balled fist.

"What?"  I asked.

"The kid, he just ran face-first into the pillar!" 

And, of course, the parents didn't notice. 

Why bother having children if you aren't going to be parents to them?  Why not just have a dog or a cat?  Or, better yet, a beta fish?  You can't kill those things?  Unless you get a suicidal one like my sister.  But I think she talked it to death...

Well, Happy Easter!


Thursday, April 5, 2007

"My Humps"

I'm sure ya'all have seen this by now, but this parody of Fergie's "My Humps" by Alanis is too funny!


See? She's cute and stuff!

Since many of you seem to think that Phoebe looked a tad Evil in my last picture of her, here's one to show you how she really looks... right before she attacks your head...


Wow. I'm LA-ZY!

It's 3:44pm and I've only been outta bed for a mere three hours - and that's actually pushing it considering I actually only got up to make a ham sandwich and then roll back under the warm electric blanket.  Eventually, I moseyed up the stairs and made it to my computer.  But only with the aid of a space heater to warm me -it's freezing!  What the heck happened to the warm weather?

I'm feeling very unmotivated today. Don't wanna clean.  Don't wanna write.  Don't wanna listen to music.  Don't wanna watch tv.  Curl up and go back to sleep? Don't mind if I do...

But, on a lighter note, my sister, she of the fast-moving lips has just risen above her "scratch and dent" marriage and has signed a purchase agreement to buy the cutest little house a few miles from mine!  It's permanent now - she's staying - at least for a bit and that, if nothing else, is making me happy.  

I was determined yesterday to buy a housewarming gift for  her so I went to Lowe's with the mindset of buying her a Rosemary tree - they're so cute and look like mini-xmas trees - but they had none.  Then, while my pants from last season insisted on creeping up my nether-regions, I spotted it:  a tiny potted plant with thick fronds. 

It was a pineapple plant and it was only $15.  Grabbing it despite Harry's bewildered look, I plopped it on the cashier's stand and proceeded to speak to the slightly cracked-out looking salesman about the novelty plant for a good ten minutes before we toted the plant to the car.

After touring the new little house of Summer, I put the plant in her driver's side seat and drove off. 

I called her later: "Did you get my gift?" I asked, trying not to giggle.

"Yes!Brianalmostsatonit!"  she said.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes!" she said, "Whatisit?"  I paused.  I would've thought that the tiny pineapple perched within the fronds would've given her SOME kind of clue as to what it was but, this IS my sister we're talking about...

"It's a pineapple plant," I said.

"OH! Iloveit!"

I'm sure it'll be dead within a week, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Okay, well I'm off in search of my motivation... and maybe a cheeseball...