Get to Know Me - UPDATED

Last night at the treatment center, we were making these Dr. Seuss "Get To Know You" books with the kids. The books were really cute - you did things like measure the kid's height, trace their hand, draw their favorite animal, stuff like that.

I started to get a little bored with my own book. Please to enjoy.







I hope you enjoyed getting to know me, and here is the inspiration for my Trogdor bird.

In Which I Become Slightly Less Bitter

"Dearest Valentine:
I just wanted to give you this token of appreciation...to totally make everybody around you jealous...and warm your Friday the 13th and Valentine's Day.
Your Physician,
Dr. Mookie Love"

I don't think it's any coincidence that the same year I get my new "assets" is the first year I've gotten flowers from two different guys for Valentine's Day. It's nice to see my investments finally paying off.

Surprise!

Happy early Valentine's Day to me...The best part? They're purple, I didn't buy them for myself, and they didn't come from one of my girlfriends...

My Valentine's Day Mantra

Sometimes I Don't Know Why I Do the Things I Do

Today I spent hours sitting in the Sprint store trying to exchange / fix two of our work cell phones. As hour three was beginning, I found myself engaged in shallow chit chat with an old man who had come in to buy a charger. I made a comment about how long I'd been sitting there, what a pain it was to have to be there, and he chuckled and said, "The only thing worse is going to the dentist!"

Now, of all the possible friendly, polite quips I could have responded with, for some reason, I found myself blurting out, "OR the gynecologist!"

People, I swear you could hear crickets chirping. The only other sound was my nervous too-loud laughter. Poor old man just stared at me with a shocked look on his face. Poor Sprint reps just stared at me like I was a crazy person.

Today, I don't blame them. It's already been a long week.

Let's Recap

After a heart breaking loss last weekend, I've just about recovered and am almost feeling back to normal. And by "normal" I mean "there's been so much going on that I haven't had time to get my bearings."

First, say hello to my new niece, Benjamin Button. I mean, Nano.
She's just a teeny little thing, but she's one of the cutest little old men I've ever seen. Seriously, look at that wrinkled forehead. Bone Senior's delivery story is one for the books.

The same day that Nano was born, I "found out" that I will be moving out by February 1. Out of respect for certain people who read my blog, I will tread lightly here, but I am moving against my will and not happily. I have loved living in this place for the last 2 1/2 years, it's been absolutely perfect, it's a convenient location, the past roommates have been great... until the most recent one (let's call her Judas) moved in in October and decided to take the place all for herself.

What really gets my goat about this situation is that when the owner's gave me notice to move out, I asked Judas if she knew why they were having me move out, and she looked me right in the face and said she had absolutely no idea. After several phone calls and emails to the owners, I finally found out that they were having me move because Judas had offered to rent out the entire place herself, and the owner's could make more money.

After this information came to light, I confronted Judas. As I stood there asking her if she still didn't know why they were asking me to move, and she looked at me again and again said she had no idea, I felt myself reverting back to my inner ghetto-self and started bobbing my head and raising my voice. All I needed was big hoop earrings to complete the hoochie mama image.

When I told her that I knew she'd offered to rent the whole place, she just stared at me like a deer in the headlights and responded with, "Oh....I didn't even think of that." At which point I could no longer restrain my ghetto-self, and believe I used the phrase, "Why you gotta play me like this???" I know. I know.

Suffice it also to say that I am not about to make this transition easy for her, seeing as how she had no interest in being up front with me about the circumstances. I'm only shoveling the half of the driveway that I use, and I'm taking the shovel with me when I go. I also currently have half-packed boxes strewn and stacked all over the place, and they'll stay there until the absolute last second. I'm not afraid to be a big baby about this.

Despite the situation, I have a place to go and I'm actually excited to see how it will all turn out. The process of packing and sorting and throwing stuff out has been emotional. I've taken two car loads of stuff to DI, and found myself in somewhat of a grabbing match with the mexican worker sorting the donations. The scuffle finally ended with me in tears and the mexican triumphantly walking away with one of my prized possessions.

You can't appreciate it from the picture, but that is a giant head talking Rocky toy. You push the button and he says different phrases from the movie, and every so often he breaks into the Rocky theme song and punches and stuff. I've had him for a few years now, and it really broke my heart to get rid of him. I was desperately trying to convey the amazingness to the mexican by pushing the button over and over, but I don't think he truly appreciated Rocky. Somebody is going to see Rocky on the shelf and be like, "What?? JACKPOT!!!" Logistically, it was just time for me to set him free and let him bring joy to someone else's heart. Along with the following items:
I knew both my Tickle Me Elmo's had to go when they sounded like idling truck engines and laughed in super slow motion, like they were of the devil.
This is Ask Me Eeyore. He's like a talking Magic 8-ball - you ask him a question and he gives you a somber answer. I got rid of him because for years I've been asking him if my boobs would ever get bigger, and he always gave me some variation of the answer,"Dream on." Guess I showed him.
And this is my Batman grappling hook. There are no words to sum up its awesomeness, but I just don't have much to grapple these days. And so it too had to go.

In other news, this is a banner year for the Oscar nominations as far as I'm concerned. I have only seen ONE of the films nominated for Best Picture. ONE! You know its been an off year when I'm so far out of the movie loop.

I have lots of catching up to do - there are seventeen nominated films that I haven't seen (not including foreign film, documentary feature, documentary short subject, live action short film and animated short film because who really sees those?) And there's only one category in which I've seen all the nominated films: Visual Effects (The Dark Knight, Benjamin Button, and Iron Man). So once I get set up in the new place, I probably won't come out of my room for days because I'll be watching as many movies as possible so I can clean house at my annual Oscar party.

That just about sums it up for me and my eventful week. See you at the movies.

Any Takers?

Does anyone want to drive to Phoenix with me this weekend? My plan is to skulk around the stadium in my new favorite t-shirt, sighing heavily and making sad puppy dog eyes until some rich old guy takes pity on me and invites me up to his box suite to watch the Eagles win the NFC Championship.

Either that, or park my car in front of the stadium, put on a green bikini and clear high heels and start washing my car while eating a huge Carls Jr. burger, a la that old Paris Hilton commercial. Although I don't think that would warrant the desired effect...people would probably think I was some kind of promotional exhibit, and not in a good way.

But with my uncanny wit and creativity, I'm sure I can find a way to at least get on the Jumbotron. Tune in Sunday at 3pm Eastern...

How Fitting

We just switched to a new payroll company, and from the looks of my first pay stub, I think I'm going to like them...

It's A Christmas Miracle

... and I'm not just talking about the Eagles making the playoffs, although that was a miracle all in itself. But as they say...I promise that's not just a gratuitous shot of my bazoombas, its a gratuitous shot of the awesome t-shirt my brother-in-law gave me for Christmas. But no matter how I tried to take the picture, it always came out looking like a gratuitous shot of my bazoombas. Enjoy.

The real Christmas miracle actually happened on Christmas morning when I opened a different gift from my brother-in-law. It felt like a book, and when I opened it, it was a book. A book called Your Pregnancy and Birth, which caused quite the ruckus among my family.

Step-sister: "You're PREGNANT??"
Step-mother: "Well, we always want more grandkids!"
Grandmother: Nervous laughter. "Well! I don't know if that's good news or bad news!"
Step-sister: "You're PREGNANT!!??"
Father: Extremely not amused.
Brother-in-law: Extremely amused.
Bone Senior: In the bathroom.

The Christmas miracle being, of course, that I was rendered speechless. And also had to spend the remainder of my time at home convincing my father that I was not, in fact, pregnant. I'm pretty sure it's going to take another nine months and the absence of a baby to convince him.

In other holiday news, I cleaned up once again as the world's coolest aunt. Behold the latest crop of onesies for Li'l Mil:



And behold the greatest pillow case ever made, given to my good friend G:
I call it my Matt Damon picture. Merry Christmas!

Happy Holla Dayz!

All I Want for Christmas

Have you heard of Elfster.com? I hadn't either until my family decided that this year we would do a secret santa gift exchange instead of everyone buying for everyone. My step-sister Jennifer found Elfster, which randomly assigns names, lets you set up a wish list, and even lets you anonymously ask your person questions.

You know there was way too much potential for me to be a complete smart ass. Here's my wishlist. (You have to click on every link.)

http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=8832950

http://www.walmart.com/catalog/product.do?product_id=9107859

http://shopping.discovery.com/product-65909.html?jzid=40600652-0-0

http://winningisforthebirds.com/

http://www.footballfanatics.com/NFL_Philadelphia_Eagles/Philadelphia_Eagles_Fan_Helmet_Hat

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/188/365838782_c1b3f8d2ec.jpg?v=0

Elfster has standard questions you can ask your person, such as, "Who are your favorite authors?" or "What size shirt do you wear?", boring things like that. You know I had to spice it up a bit, so I asked my person the following:

"What do you want for Christmas?"

I'm all about taking the easy way out.

Of Absolutely Zero Interest or Importance

Recently, someone told me that I should write a book from my blog and become famous for it. I reminded this person that there's no way I could become famous from my blog because seriously, nothing interesting or blog worthy has happened to me for a long time. I'm in one serious dry spell. She then tried to convince me that even the not-interesting-not-blog-worthy stuff that happens to me can be funny and interesting to people.

You asked for it, you got it.

Please to enjoy the not-interesting-not-blog-worthy highlights of my life from the past month, in no particular order and completely not-smoothly-tied-together.

I went through a bad eating-Burger-King-in-bed-every-night phase. And by this I mean the drive thru guys knew me, they stopped charging me for cheese on my Whopper, and I was waking up with sesame seeds stuck to my thigh. Seriously.

Someone said to me, "Sorry I peed on you," and I won't go in to detail, but they really had accidentally peed on my shoe.

The bathroom at work has one of those automatic spritzing air fresheners mounted to the wall. But I swear it only spritzes when I'm sitting in there. Like clockwork, I'll sit down, and one minute later it spritzes...like it knows or something. Then it doesn't do it again the whole time I'm in there. But every time I pop a squat, no matter what time it is, that thing spritzes...I'm starting to take offense to it.

Someone said to me, "Sorry I blew snot on you," because I'd pinched his nostrils shut, which prompted him to blow out really hard, which blew snot on my hand, which caused me to start dry heaving, which taught me to never ever pinch anyone's nostrils shut ever again.

Back in September, I got a call from one of the subcontractors that works on our jobsites. He was calling to invite me to his company Christmas party. Again, he called me in September, which was so far in advance that I didn't have any legitimate reason to say no. So I used that as my excuse to stall - it was so far in advance that I didn't know what would be going on that night, but I told him I'd call him back and let him know.

So why would this be blog worthy? Let me start by saying that this guy is a very nice guy, always polite and nice to me. Very nice. But he's close to fifty years old, and is missing his front teeth. Plus I work with his company closely and know lots of their employees. Plus other employees told me that he usually takes questionable ladies to their Christmas party. And by questionable, I mean loose. Plus they all told me that this guy has a tendency to get absolutely wasted and sloppy and handsy at their parties.

So since September, it's been a joke on the jobsite about me going as this guy's date. Even his bosses were calling to give me a hard time about it. I finally decided that I would just be open minded and try something new, so I called him last week and apologized for taking so long to get back to him, but that if the invitation was still open, I'd love to go to his Christmas party.

Which is when he told me that he wasn't even sure if he could go, because he was supposed to have his kids that night. Which to me means that I took so long getting back to him that he found another questionable lady to take. Which is just fine with me, except that now I've been turned down by a fifty year old man with no front teeth. So I'll add that to my resume.

And that's all she wrote, folks!

There is No Title that Could Possibly Sum Up the Greatest Night of my Life

Saturday night, one of my wildest dreams came true.

Your eyes do not deceive you. That is New Kids on the Block, live in concert, blanketed in smoke machines and sexuality.

While most of the concert I looked like this:

the night did not start off as smoothly as I would have hoped. When our tickets got scanned at the door, we were informed that our section had been shut down and they were moving our seats from the front-row-of-the-upper-level-box-closest-to-the-stage, to the floor, three quarters of the way back from the stage. Meaning that instead of having no one blocking our view, we'd have three quarters of the floor space full of people blocking our view.

This is my "Oh hell no" face, and as you can see by the vomit face on the lady behind me, I wasn't the only one upset.

When calm rationalization didn't seem to effectively make my point to the lady who was giving us our "new and improved" seats, I felt my eyes welling up and a lump in my throat. We had purchased our tickets at the absolute first second they went on sale six months ago. We had strategically chosen the best seats at our price range, selected for our optimal viewing pleasure with no big heads in our way.

No way was I being bumped to the floor waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back from the stage without a fight.

I planted both hands firmly on the table in front of me, leaned forward and forcefully pleaded my case. Thank goodness Nicole was there to document the moment.

"Listen, listen lady!!We bought these tickets specially advanced because we used an American Express card! We picked the absolute best seats we could afford.
We bought these tickets six months ago.
(Sniffle sniffle, dramatic pause for effect)
But I haven't just been waiting six months to see New Kids on the Block.
I've been waiting my whole life."

I'd like to thank the Academy. Now bring on the New Kids!

This was my face when Jordan came on. He was hands down my first love. I had dangly earrings that said "I Heart Jordan", I had the Jordan doll (and Bone Senior had the Joey doll - don't believe her when she tells you she didn't love him), every single trading card in existence, and a semi-pornographic poster hanging above my bed of Jordan with his shirt half off and his braided rat tail over his shoulder. So hot.I think they had about fifteen costume changes. Here we see Sensitive All-White Sexy Men. Here we also see Jordan's pained expression as he hits those falsetto notes.
This picture is just for Bone Senior because deep down I know she still has love for Joey.
Every time his face was on the big screen or he did a solo, I turned to my friend and screamed, "He is SO CUTE!!!!" And PS - When did Donnie Wahlberg become sexy??And oh my gosh I just about peed myself again when Jordan came out and did this solo, as you can tell by the way I scream at the end. I'm such a little girl.
(Please forgive the poor audio)

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The New Kids in all their old school glory, and me, screaming like a fourteen year old girl on a roller coaster. Please to enjoy.

I screamed myself hoarse and my ears were ringing for two days. Hands down the best concert I've ever been to, and totally worth the fifteen-year wait.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Last night I was staying overnight to babysit two little girls that I used to sit for a few years ago. They wanted to watch "Hairspray", and since I love me some Zac Effron, who am I to object. We were about halfway through the movie when the seven-year-old turns to me thoughtfully...

Girl: You know, I think this movie is teaching us a lesson.

Bone Junior: Yeah? What's that?

Girl: Fat people? They can DANCE!

And here I thought the lesson from "Hairspray" was that Zac Effron is a total dream boat.

In Which Cinemark Messes With the Wrong Bee-yatch

You know I love me some movies. I've blogged before about how particular I am about my seats, how I can't miss the previews, how a loud nose breather can ruin the movie for me, etc etc. I'm even particular about the theaters I go to - there's a certain one that I refuse to visit because of the terrible seats and leg room. In other words, I'm a total movie snob, and I'm OK with that.

Last Friday, Nicole and I decided to check out the grand opening of a new theater nearby. I'm a fan of Cinemark theaters, so I thought it would be a nice change of pace to drive the extra few miles and see how well New Theater measured up to Favorite Theater. Favorite Theater is less than two miles away, has covered parking, and is part of the mall. It was going to be tough for New Theater to woo me.

We bought our tickets and commented on the distractingly bright carpet, but otherwise it was so far so good. New Theater was stacking up well against Favorite Theater... digital marquis outside each theater, memory foam seats, "new smell" in the lobby. Nicole and I got our favorite seats - front row behind the railing, middle of the row. Ok, New Theater, maybe you have a chance.

Correction. New Theater had a chance until about halfway through the movie when an usher came in and stood directly in front of us. She said something to me, and being fully invested in the movie, since, you know, it was still playing and it was right in the middle, I didn't understand what she said and asked her to repeat herself.

Usher: Please take your feet off the railing.

Blink. Blink.

Bone Junior: What??

Usher: Please take your feet off the railing.

Bone Junior: Why??

Usher: It ruins the paint.

Oh hell no.

I slowly took my feet down and narrowed my eyes at the usher. At this point in time, I didn't fully comprehend what had happened, because I became too distracted by the usher as she made her way around the theater and asked everyone who had their feet up on the seat in front of them to put their feet down.

Yes, really. She went around to each and every person in that theater who had their feet up on the seat in front of them. If no one is sitting in front of you, when do you NOT have your feet up? I couldn't believe what was happening.

For the rest of the movie, I sat there and stewed about it. Never in my life have I been told to take my feet off the railing. What is the point of the railing if you can't put your feet up? Isn't that the whole reason for its existence - to create the highest level of comfort for me at the movies??

I couldn't even concentrate on the end of the movie. That snooty usher had managed to completely ruin the movie for me, and I planned on having words with the manager afterwards.

Which I did, and which did not have the desired effect that I had hoped. Said manager was a young guy with a fancy ear piece that he kept messing with as I was talking to him. Thank you, manager, I realize you're sooooo important at the MOVIE THEATER that you need an earpiece.

I asked if it was Cinemark's policy to have ushers come in and rudely interrupt the middle of the movie by disrupting patrons and telling them to take their feet off the railing and seats. He said, "Sometimes."

Sometimes? Sometimes they're anal about the paint on their railings? It's not like I was wearing baseball cleats or tap shoes and scraping away on their precious railing. Although next time I think I might do just that.

Extremely Important Manager was extremely unimpressed with my complaint, which I'm totally not used to. Just ask Yanaj - usually if I raise a fuss, I get what I want out of it. She's been aparty to many embarrassing episodes of my shaking fist that more often than not result in discounted meals, movie ticket rainchecks, or chocolate syrup in my water ice / custard combo for only twenty-five cents more instead of the advertised dollar more because there's no way I'm paying a dollar for a squiggly little ribbon of chocolate syrup!

My point being that Extremely Important Manager's Extreme Lack of Interest in my dissatisfaction was making me even more irritated. So I decided to pull my final card.

I looked him square in the eye, pointed my finger in his face, and said in a low, threatening voice, "I am never coming back to this theater again!" Then I turned on my heels and marched out of there with my head held high and said confidently to Nicole, "I think I made my point."

And just in case I didn't, I emailed the owner of the theater and gave him an earful about my Extreme Dissatisfaction with his New Theater. In my email, I told him that I was a writer for a "popular entertainment outlet", and that I was going to tell all my readers to never patron his theater.

So, readers of this "popular entertainment outlet", never go to the Cinemark University Mall in Orem Utah.

Now I think I've made my point.

He's Baaaaaaaaaaaack!

Who wore it better?

Ozzy or Samuel?

Tinkie Winkie or Samuel?

I think Samuel pulls it off splendidly. However, due to the fact that his head is made of plastic, Samuel could never pull off a classic face like this:
Can you tell how I feel about this guy? If my face doesn't make my feelings obvious, then the fact that I posted this video should leave no doubt in your mind:

No words necessary. Score one for the Bone.

You Can Be Joyus, You Cannot Be a Jackass

There have been very few moments in my life where I've cried tears of joy. Most of them have happened in the past year or so. These moments include:

- when Li'l Mil was born;

- when I got my new Mustang;

- when I got my new ginormous bazoombas;

And finally, this momentous occasion:I literally sobbed tears of joy last night when the Phillies finally won the World Series. Now if only the Eagles could get in on a little championship action, I could die a happy woman with an adorable nephew, a sweet Mustang, and ginormous bazoombas.

I Suppose I Should Be Flattered?

Yesterday I was at a stoplight being noticeably eyed by two guys in a Jetta next to me. In case you didn't catch that, it was two guys in a Jetta. A Jetta. There's nothing wrong with a Jetta if you're a 19-year-old blonde girl with a Roxy sticker in the back window. But this was two guys.

And also they both looked like this:Meaning they both had the swept-back-Gotti-boys hairdo, not the pouty lips and nice skin tone. And they were both wearing headbands. Headbands!

I was staring straight ahead to avoid eye contact, but I could see the driver give me the standard head nod out of my peripheral vision. Unfortunately my window was down so I couldn't ignore him when he started shouting across the traffic lanes, asking my name. It's so awesomely embarrassing to see the looks on the faces of other drivers who overheard me shouting my name three times because he couldn't understand me.

And to answer your question, yes, I shouted my phone number to him. Sure he drives a Jetta and has amazingly bad hair that I'm sure he believes to be amazingly awesome; but at the very least, it gives me something entertaining to blog about. Stay tuned.

Catch Me If You Can...And Apparently You Can

You know what's funny? Getting pulled over on the SAME ROAD twice in 48 hours.

You know what's annoying? Getting a ticket the first time, but a warning the second time.

You know what's really freaking sweet? Having the second cop ask you if you're aware that it's a federal offense to deface official state documents...Oh, you mean this defacing of official state documents, officer?
That's right. Permanent marker on my license plate.

I told the officer that the real crime here was the defacing of my beloved Eagles, not the defacing of official state documents. He didn't laugh, then told me to get some Goof Off and get rid of it.

Thanks again to the superintendents I work with for helping me to create this post.

I Won Too!

I've won a major award! It could be a bowling alley! Or just the deed to it...

Not quite as tangible as this major award, but it will do. And since I'm not feeling witty or creative, I will plagiarize verbatim Andi Mae.

Somebody loves my blog and has awarded me the honor of answering a few questions...with only one word. For being a verbose chatterbox, we'll see how this goes...

1. Where is your cell phone? I was going to say, "Right in front of me," but then I remembered that these are supposed to be one word answers, and this quiz is going to be harder than I thought so... close? My cell phone is close? Is that right?
   
2. Where is your significant other? Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Does that count as one word?
   
3. Your hair color? dark
   
4. Your mother? pale
5. Your father? tan
   
6. Your favorite thing? Mustang
   
7. Dream last night? pastries...cinnamon rolls to be exact, but that's two words...dumb rules. And stop harping on the fact that I'm using more than one word - the point is that I actually dreamed about cinnamon rolls, people.
   
8. Your goal? fame
9. The room you're in? office
   
10. Your hobby? movies
11. Your fear? SPIDERS
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? famous
    
13. Where were you last night? work
14. What you're not? unfunny
    
15. One of your wish-list items? Reverse-C door stripes for my mustang - I'm sorry, there's no way to condense that into one word. Deal with it.
    
16. Where you grew up? C'Ville
    
17. The last thing you did? Typed. Duh, I'm doing this survey, aren't I? What else could I be doing except typing? Brainstorming?
    
18. What are you wearing? Double D's hahahahahahahahah I crack myself up.
    
19. Your TV? big
20. Your pet? FatDragon. See how I made that into one word?
    
21. Your computer? slooooooooooooooow
22. Your mood? PMSsy
23. Missing someone? sister
24. Your car? HOT
25. Something you're not wearing? A's! hahahahahahah. Reference #18 if you don't get it. I still crack myself up.
    
26. Favorite store? Buckle
27. Your summer? tanorexic
28. Love someone? Elvis
29. Your favorite color? purple
30. When is the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? today

I'm supposed to give this major award to more people, but...I fear that no one will be quite as witty and clever as myself, so I'll save you all the trouble of trying to live up to my standards. And yes, today I really am that cocky.

Check Me Out in All My Majesty

This week, I realized that I am featured in four other blogs! How's that for cool points?

Here I am, mentioned on my sister's blog.

Here's the report of the first official meeting between two bloggers - myself and $teve. (scroll down down down)

Here's me in the background of a birthday BBQ that I crashed in Philadelphia. (in the video at the bottom...keep your eyes peeled!)

Aaaaaaaaaand here's me being called out publicly because my beloved Eagles lost to the Bears AGAIN this year. Luckily I didn't have to remove any stickers from my car this time. I simply had to endure hours of trash-texting from Hizznizzle, his brother, the landscaper, and then some guy I don't even know who was a Bears fan. Talk about a sausage party... but really, when Hizznizzle is involved, is it really any surprise that there are sausages aplenty?

Thanks for all the shout outs! Enjoy your sausages, Hizznizzle!