Dirrrty

Come close my chickens, and listen up, I have some very important news to share!!

I've found the best potato chips in the world.

Dirty Potato Chips - Cracked Pepper & Sea Salt

They're (sorry mom) smack your momma good.

In case you didn't already know it, salt & pepper chips are where it's at. Target's Archer Farms has a good version, but these Dirty Potato Chips are unreal. I think they're called Dirty Potato Chips because you'll like them so much you'll creep yourself out and feel dirty.

They're amazing.

I got mine at Dean & DeLuca, along with a pesto chicken salad sandwich, 'cause I like to pay a lot of money for lunch. Apparently. Whatever.

WARNING: You can buy them en masse online. Dangerous!

Summer Sounds

Santogold is singing the soundtrack of my summer.

Ohhhhh the Irony

As I drove south on Wornall, right before 74th Street I saw a "protest."

It was a "protest" because it was like three people in suits with one lame sign. And a dog.

So as I drive by I see the sign reads, "NO LEASHES! DOGS DESERVE TO BE FREE!" or some crap like that.

And... wait for it...

The dog lunges at my car, almost breaking free from its leash into the street.

Let's keep the leash if you can't keep it under control.

Summer Lovin'

I just got the best news ever. Or of the day. LaQuisha is back on the internet dating scene!!

I like to take credit for this new adventure. Well, my retelling of my time on Match and her retelling a glorious first date story to me. It goes a little something like this...

LaQuisha and B-Dizzle go out on their first date - a wine tasting event at a local country club. It was bad from the start. B-Dizzle was speeding in his fabulous-o Grand Am through the rain. Stop it. At the wine tasting, B-Dizzle decided to be cute and make LaQuisha the butt of his ditzy cheerleader jokes to a table full of people they didn't know.

On the way home LaQuisha was annoyed with him, but tried to give him a chance by chatting it up with him about her puppy and how much her Mom looooves dog-sitting. B-Dizz took that as the perfect time to for a classic first-date comment, "Sounds like your mom is starved for attention - your dad isn't giving her any and she's turning to your dog."

As LaQuisha looked out the window and pondered the fine art of rolling out of a moving vehicle, B-Dizz moved right on to display his fabulous sense of humor.

As they discussed the Chiefs/Lamar Hunt/his son Mike, B-Dizz asked if LaQuisha had ever seen, "that episode of the Simpsons, you know, that one, you know, "Mike Hunt," you know, that episode, get it, Mike-Hunt, Mi-kehunt, get it, that episode, he says Mike Hunt like Mi-kehunt."

I can't wait for the stories folks.

It's gonna be a good summer.

Match, It's a Goldmine.

Ok, so after I wrote about getting fan mail (which btw, how you guys doing? Still there?) I got more fan mail (hahahahaaaa Faith!) from Stephanie. Her e-mail inspired me to share the hot mess that was my match.com dating experience.

And now, Stephanie shares. It's like a big full circle moment of awesome online dating horribleness. Check this shizzle out. Faaaaabulous!

Some things shouldn't be bought at garage sales

And someone should tell the guy I know that shower curtains are one of them.

Ewww.

Other things that shouldn't be bought at garage sales? Talk amongst ya-selves.

Your Party

Omg, this site is amazing. Love. It.

A Preview

Tons of fabulousness occurred over the long weekend with Mr. Perfect. Which is great considering the trip got off to a rough start when I discovered, on the way to the airport, that I had actually booked my trip for May 29-June 3, not May 22-29th. It all worked out amazingly well, with only a $10 fare difference (I'm ignoring the $100 ticket change fee). I ended up staying the night Tuesday and leaving Wednesday morning instead.

So the weekend was full of great adventures in flip-cup with strangers, xtreme mini golf, movies, awesome food, and getting lost/almost dying/planning the Lifetime version of our of survival (perhaps an exaggeration? nah) while hiking in the woods.

But this story, it's short and sweet and sums me up (awkward, bad decision maker).
Monday night Mr. Perfect was parking his vehicle on a side road near his house. The road has an incline, and when I opened my door I was greeted by low evergreen bushes along the length of the car. I didn't want to step in them in my flip flops, so I tried an stunning maneuver.

I spread out along the length of the car, hold onto the door jam, and handed Mr. Perfect my purse. Just as he was asking what the hell I was doing, I went for it. I slammed the door shut, letting go of my hold onto the car and (attempted to) grabbed for the side of the car in an effort to shimmy down the length of the car, missing the bushes.

And here's what happened.

I fell completely flat on my ass.
Actually it was more like I did a trust fall or something into the bushes. I ended up laying down completely flat in them.

When I tried to get up, I lost my balance again, this time falling in a way that made the scratchy evergreens go straight up my skirt. I had little branchy thorny pieces stuck in my underwear.

So much for that move.

Mr. Perfect just looked at me and shook his head. "Why didn't you just walk over them?"

I mean, I could have, but then they would have scratched my feet, right?

Just a note

I've flown somewhere every week in May.
Hmph.

Por Favor

Some people in my family could really use your prayers right now.

Thanks.

:)

Peace Out

I'm going to see Mr. Perfect for Memorial Day weekend, and since his internet connection is the shadiest thing his side of Georgetown, I might not have anything new for a while.

Like a fabulously long while.

Like six days.

It's hard to type when you're grinning like this. Ok, no it's not.

Car Talk

Thoughts I've had recently while driving my car:

Is a flashing check engine light better, or worse than a solid check engine light?

Has the condition of the car really deteriorated that much over a week, or did the rental car in Oklahoma just remind me what cars are supposed to drive like?

Did the car really sputter out and die in my garage at work because it ran out of gas, or was that foreshadowing?

(I made it into a parking spot, then came out hours later and got to the gas station down the block. The empty light never came on, but I don't think that means much. The only time I've seen it come on was after the last time I got in an accident. Yes, I said last time. Because there are multiple.)

Is Dad going to remember I have his car?

If so, is he ever really going to give it back?

Is someone going to show this to him? Will that inspire him to take the car back?

What happens when the tags run out in October?

Why does the headlight that wasn't broken in the wreck (not my wreck) work, but the busted one with no cover does?

When is someone going to fix that headlight for me?

What do my neighbors think when I unwire my hood every couple of weeks to check my oil and transmission fluid?

Can you actually feel the transmission drop out of the car when it happens?

Was that guy honking at me because I cut him off, or because I'm cute?

If I'm going to continue being a bad driver that regularly needs the ability to speed away from cars I inadvertently pull out in front of, I should really have a car that doesn't lurch when you accelerate.

Find me a Find, Catch me a Catch

How is it possible? I totally just went back to November and couldn't find any mention of my (hilariously bad) experience with online dating! Aghhh! I feel so sad that you have been deprived for so long!

Never fear.
I will share.
And I will over share.
And you will like it.

And, because I'm totally insane, I made a list of stories about online dating I wanted to write, so don't worry, they're fresh outta the Ziploc.

Ok, here's a classic one. The Sweet Talker.

I went on a few really painful dates with a guy that I met on Match.com. He was so awkward about the entire dating online thing, even thought he had already been doing it for a few months when I met him.

He was my first online dating-date.

We met for lunch one weekend, it was nothing special, but nothing horrible either. I gave him another chance and we met up at Harry's for a really lame date that included him gchatting via his Blackberry and drinking a really ridiculous amount of alcohol.

I don't know how to explain how badly the date ended - he was so painfully awkward. I know I already said that, but I don't know how else to explain it. Anyway, it was bad, I think he like started making rude comments to me about how bad the date was, then called me two minutes after driving away. Huh?

So the next day he IM's me:
Him: You don't have to act like you're busy, I don't want to talk to you anyways.
- before I can reply -

Him: U Suk

Me: Wow. Thanks!

Him: Welcome

Yup.
Yup.

Wow, I really feel like I should draw these out over a couple of posts, but once you open the Match.com vault, there's really no stoppin' it! I'd apologize for the length of this post, but please, this is going to be the best 7-90 minutes (I mean, I'm not judging you, take your time) of your day/week.

So I should back up a bit here and explain how this whole match.com biz got started. If you remember, my friend LaQuisha was dabbling a bit in the art of online dating, and while she didn't necessarily have a ton of luck, we had a lot of fun with it. And yes, I say we because if you remember, I would go through the profiles with her and make fun of everyone online, like any normal person would.

That inspired me to join?

I figured, meh, why not?

And then I started meeting these guys. Yeah. That's why not.

So my strategy was to stockpile stories for the month I was on match, then have a series of posts detailing the joy of online dating. I mean, I wanted to go on dates and meet nice guys and all, but I don't know, I don't think I ever really thought it was going to happen. And actually, it didn't. In that month I went on two really awful dates. That's it.

Anyway, something happened in there between the end of my subscription on Match and writing the stories. I met Mr. Perfect.
Got all distracted and shit.
It happens.

And then I found out Mr. Perfect knew about my blog - thanks GDSean - and so I was like, wait, is this appropriate? Blogging about dating other people when Mr. Perfect is totally cyber-stalking me? And then I was like, wait, what's appropriate? And then I forgot what I was originally talking to myself about and then here we are 6 months later.

So anyway, I suppose I was never really that serious about Match. Because, I mean, I don't know, that's not my style. In fact, GDSean totally called it, after telling him a few of my stories he told me, "Erin, you're not even doing this to meet guys! You're doing this to to see how awkward you can be!" And... ok, so maybe he was right. BUT, I don't think any of us could have predicted how awkward the guys could be! Or, wait, I should say how much more awkward than me the guys could be. Wow. I mean really, kinda impressively awkward in the creepiest way possible.

The only thing I regretted about not renewing my membership with Match was that I didn't get a screen shot of my profile before quitting. I, of course, wanted to share it on here. I thought it was pretty good, pretty true to who I am. Which probably led to the stories below... Anyway, really the only thing I can remember was the portion where you could list the last thing you read. I put "He's Just Not That Into You." I thought it was hysterical.

I really only have a few stories for you. Like I said, it was only a month. I already gave you the most random, next I'll give you the most bizarre, then wrap it up with the most WT. Then some pointers to the online daters out there.

OMG, can we just take a mini Zach Morris time out to say how much fun this is?!?!? Ok, time in!

Now ladies & gents, I introduce you to, "The Notebook."

Ok, so this guy & I are IM'ing through Match & he's totally bizarre-o, like to the point I'm calling people on the phone & reading what he's saying to them.

Because yeah, I'm that girl.
Instead of just stopping talking to him because he was so strange, I started speed dialing friends to read the crap he was asking me.

Sometimes... sometimes I don't make the best decisions.

So anyway, our conversation starts out semi-normal.
He asks if I like KC.
I tell him I love it and ask what he thinks of the city.
He tells me he lives alone. And has a nice apartment.
I make some stupid comment.
He tells me his stuff, like his dishes and silverware, match.
I tell him nothing in my apartment matches.
He tells me he wants a home a woman would be comfortable in. And then - I'm not making this up - he tells me his apartment has cherry wood.
I tell him my apartment smells of rich mahogany.
Silence. He doesn't get it.
He asks if I have a big family - after all, we're both Catholic.
I say, yeah! Youngest of five! How about you?
He says, yeah me too!
Really, I say, how many siblings?
One.
Silence. I don't get it.
- I've called at least two people by now, still can't actually get anyone on the phone -
He asks my thoughts on living with someone before you're married.
I tell him I don't think it's necessary and not something I plan on.
He asks my thoughts sleeping at your boyfriends house and premarital sex.
I say... it... happens?
I really couldn't even tell what the "right" answer was to him.

So, just a reminder, this was the first time we talked, and I have honestly not trimmed out more than 1 minute of IMing. But just wait, it gets sooooo much better.

He told me he was looking for passion.
Like in The Notebook.

No, I didn't make that shit up.
He seriously referred to The Notebook.
As in the movie. The movie that I watch, hungover, with the girls, every time I go back to Manhattan. The ultimate girl movie.
The Notebook.

Ain't no man of mine telling me how he is looking for something like the Notebook.
Hell no.

Wait, just realized. Is it worse that I was actually more offended by his Notebook comment than the fact he asked me about premarital sex without knowing my first name? Wow. I never thought about that before now... que interesante.

Ok, so on to the most glorious of them all, the White Trash Date to End All Dates! I briefly alluded to the date before, but now it's time for all the horrid details.

This is the date I should have dumped my drink on... someone, really anyone, and then left. I wish I would have. And you will too.

So it starts with me driving all the way out to freaking Shawnee, or Colorado, or something for this date. If memory serves me correctly, this was a night or two before New Year's Eve. So really, this guy was set up for failure.
I had already met Mr. Perfect.
Poor kid.
You feel sorry for him, don't you?
I know. I did too, hence keeping the date even though I had proposed marriage (not kidding) to Mr. Perfect just a day or so before.

So I drive out to Colorado or Shawnee or whatever to meet this character at some shady bar. When I'm almost there he calls me and asks if it's ok if his roommate comes too. Umm, sure. Whatever. I've already driven like 2 hours, whatever.

I get to the bar and he meets me outside. Awwww! Nice!
Then he tells me that his roommate is inside wasted.
Awww! I want to leave!

We walk in and head to a table with two guys and a girl.
Um, wait, I'm confused, I thought... a date... just one other person... oh boy.
It was his roommateS and one of their girlfriends.
Um, ok, sure, I can roll. Whatever.

Then the waitress came back. And sat down at the head of the table. Next to my date. And started flirting in the way that only WT girls can do. By talking about anal sex. Ew.
Here's where I wish I would have just been a total bitch and made her get me a drink.
But I didn't. I was on good date behavior.

Really the only one there on good behavior.

Anyway, my date and the waitress are chatting up a storm about the New Years party he was hosting. And then she did it. She gave him her number.
At which point I look across the table at the girlfriend sitting across from me and say, "Really? Is this really happening? Is he really getting her number? wow"
Because I'm awesomely passive-aggressive like that.

I get up, go to the bathroom, and once again start calling friends to tell them about the horribleness of these boys.

I get back and the waitress is gone. My date apologizes, explaining that they're friends. Whatever. Your friends are creeping me out and I'm just waiting for the polite moment to leave.

Then the (wasted) roommate across the table from me starts telling me, while pointing at my date, that, "He's going to have sex tomorrow night. With ANOTHER GIRL!"

I think he really wins for the most randomly uncomfortable thing ever said on a date/to any person ever.

I think I said something like "good for him," then started gathering my stuff.
Oh, but wait, we're not done! Ha, you're so silly! You really thought this couldn't get worse? Fool.

The same friend notices that a waitress is having some discussion over the bill with another table, a table of a few black guys.

And then it came pouring out of his disgustingly white trash mouth, something about, "those Ni**ers not paying their bill."

I yelled, "Check, Please!"
Just for effect.
Cause you know ain't no way in hell I was paying.
And I left.
Quickly.

That was totally a shoulda woulda coulda date.
Shoulda given them a piece of my mind, woulda dumped my drink on the roommate, coulda told the table of brothas on the way out what he said, but really, I was in such shock about the whole thing. Who expects a first date to go that way?

I'll end this ridonk long recount of my adventures in the real world of fake world dating (the interwebs aren't real, they're tubes) with some advice to my fellow online dating explorers.

1) Chose your screen name wisely.
I'm looking at you BeerGuy, MissingCollege, justplayin, jeffindahood.
I didn't make those up.
When I think of the man of my dreams, justplayin doesn't jump out at me.

2) Chose your photo wisely.
No self portraits.
No shirtless pictures.
No ex-girlfriends poorly cut out from under your arm pictures.
Well, I did give points for style to the guy that erased the girls face, then made a smiley face in the white spot left.

My favorite profile picture story - a guy messaged me, I look at his profile. One of his pictures is of him water skiing. The next picture is him, water skiing. With a monkey. I make some jackass comment (duh) about it and he felt the need to explain to me that his uncle thought it would be funny to Photoshop the chimp (yes, he corrected me, chimp, not monkey) into the picture and that it wasn't actually real.
Wow. Wow.
I mean, wow.
Thank you for clearing up that mystery. And just a tip, your uncle, not the best source of dating advice.

3) Single? Try online dating.
Why the hell not? I mean, yeah, everything I wrote about why not, but whatever. It makes for good story telling. And it actually works for people. It didn't work for me, but really, I think in a way it did. I had a good time being single, bonded over the bad dates with friends and family (they were all more than supportive, they loved the updates), and in the end I still found Mr. Perfect in a perfect-for-me way.

I actually laughed out loud reading another blogger's thoughts on how "pathetic" it is to date online. What-the-fuck-ever. I think it's pathetic to be so scared to try something, especially when what you're scared of is what other people think.

Ain't no shame in the game kids.

But, wait, I thought...

Um, I thought I wrote about my brief stint on match.com, but now I can't find any of the posts. WTF? I'm so confused. hmmm....

P.S.

I can't wait to see how lesbo-fest is going to increase my site traffic.
Maybe "sideboobs" will finally fall off the top ten searches.

Jealous? Just a wee baby bit?

I got an invite on Facebook to "Lesbo-Fest 2008! If you are a lady...and you like the ladies..." from my, duh, lesbian friend today.

I think it's because of the camo shorts I wore on Saturday. I didn't get any pics somehow, but I was totally wearing long camo shorts at the Crawl. C-Love and I were laughing all day at my ultra-lesbian/hunting outfit (camo shorts & bright orange t-shirt). I even tried to work it to get the lesbian crawlers to buy more raffle tickets. That totally didn't work. They must have seen right through the shorts. Or... maybe they couldn't see them. They were camo and all...

OMG, I should totally go & wear the new polo shirt that I got with the camo shorts! It's like the perfect les-fest outfit!

Fan Mail

I decided that since I got two pieces of fan mail in one week that I should go ahead and respond to them right here and now. So here goes.

First up, Jeremy.

dear erin,

since you are indeed the hottest pickle in KC and obviously taken, I was wondering if you could help hook me up with the 2nd thru 10th hottest single pickles. of course it just occured to me that they may hate you since you have stolen their crown.

i may have to rethink this strategy.

your 27th biggest fan,

jeremy

Jeremy,
I must say, I'm impressed. Nice usage of flattery, the sure way to get my attention. Unfortunately I'm not in the business of setting my friends up. And I don't know that my friends want to be known as lesser pickles, or pickles at all.

So... that's it... thank you? I guess?

But uh, wtf is the story with the 27th biggest fan? Please tell me there's an Erin in the Real World fan blog out there.

Ok, so moving right along.

Subject: way fun blog; the crawl sounds like fun

I just arrived in KC from Boston and was reading your blog sent from a friend.

So far my observations are:

1) The stores are huge here biggest starbucks ever
2) The buzz (?) radio station is pretty cool, but the DJ is recorded somewhere else and said "While you are stuck in KC"
3) Had drinks at the hotel bar with the US Border Control

I work for XX as an engineering program manager, we are doing a pilot of some online to store creative products with STORE.

David

David,
Let me start by saying nice use of a semicolon in a subject line. My style is usually a run-on paragraph.

Welcome to KC!
And here's where I got confused.
Glad that your friend sent you a link and you're enjoying the blog, but David, I don't get it. You said you had observations. I assume they're regarding my blog/me (see above narcissism). And they're not. You really kinda e-mailed me a blog. You blogged me? I don't know what I'm supposed to do, David. What is the call to action? I guess I'll respond to your blogmail.

1) Yes. But go to Latte Land or Oak Street Cafe or the Roasterie instead. Duh, everyone knows it's way cooler to act like you don't go to Starbucks, that you despise Starbucks, that you're so over Starbucks and that you only get your coffee from local shops that would never be able to charge half of what they do for a latte if Starbucks never existed.

There's about 15 Latte Land's on the Plaza alone, so I trust you won't have a problem locating your new, fav, KC-friendly hipster coffee shop.

2) Dave, can I call you Dave? Dave, are you already defending KC? I love it. Nice work. But I'm going to go ahead and warn you, we are known as Cow Town, so... some people might think that a tornado dropped us here Dorothy-style and we just haven't wandered back to our rightful homesteads yet. Nope. KC is a choice. Love. It.

96.5, the Buzz is a pretty good radio station.

Here's a little boring (and probably mostly incorrect) history for you - Afentra and Lazlo were both DJ's at the station about 1-2 years ago. Afentra in the a.m., Laz in the p.m. I loved the both, they had great running segments and a good balance of silliness and seriousness.

They got married ( to each other), then Lazlo was offered a position as a program director (or something important) at a station in Seattle. Before the move Afentra and Lazlo teamed up in the p.m. and, in my opinion, struck a perfect balance with each other. They were so good that when they moved to Seattle, Lazlo stayed on the now p.m. show with Afentra and it is now both in Seattle/KC. I still really enjoy their show, but don't listen to the Buzz much at all now because of Dick Dale, the new a.m. personality. I know radio personalities are supposed to be over the top, but I feel like he's over the top just to be over the top. Nothing actually interesting going on. And his voice is annoying.

3) Fun?... I'm... happy? for you?

Hope the job goes well Davie and you continue enjoying this here blizzog.

Thanks for the fan mail, kids!

Retired

Today I went to a reception for my Momma's retirement. She's been working as first a teacher, and now a principal (emphasis on pal) for almost 40 years.
40 years.
40.
4-0.
FORTY!

She's amazing.

We had a funny talk today about when she went back to grad school. I was telling her how proud I was of her, and what a big move she made for everyone in our family, and she told me how one night when she was writing a paper I told her, "if you ever decide to go back to school again, wait until I'm gone."

What can I say? I was in third grade (or so) and trying to keep up the home front! I was still stressed from the time I tried to cook the family a roast when she was in class. 3 hours at 600 degrees = not a good idea.

Another stop on the trip down memory lane... my kindergarten teacher! Funny enough, both of us really look pretty much the exact same.
The ride back to A-town from Effingham (yeah, say it. It's glorious. Effing-ham! Effin'ham, man.), mom led the way, slowing to point at the various places she got in accidents over the past 4 years. Ok, so it was just two spots, but it was hilarious and I was totally bummed to not get a picture of her hand pointing out the window at the fence post she killed.
And a little baby-love, brought to you by Miss Kate.

Joy

At the Crawl

C-Love and I, ready to rock the Crawl.


The zillions of dollars I raised by selling raffle tickets, one hot dollar at a time. I should have got a cut, all the annoying people I had to deal with - my favorites - asking me what the prizes were, listening to me rattle off about 20 fabulous things, then the person saying, nah. WHAT? It's ONE DOLLAR! I thought I'd sell more as people got wasted. That didn't happen. Instead people were either straight rude or disgustingly lewd. No, sex is actually not raffled off at the end of the night. There aren't enough raffle tickets in the world for you, buddy. Ugh.

This girl was awesome, she tried to give me the sweetest sunglasses ever, complete with a tiny umbrella. Unfortunately her team captain yelled at me that she was going to need them back. Dang it.

WTF was this girl thinking? Who wears heels to a pub crawl? Is it to distract from the heinousness of the rest of her outfit?
And you ma'am, you can't fool me. That's a fanny pack. You can try to wear it like a backpack or some lame ass purse, but that's a fucking fanny pack.
And you... I don't... I mean... what the hell are you doing?
Ok. This is where the Crawl went wrong. Why did I do a beer bong? Mistake! This is the reason I walked to Burger King at 6p.m., called Mr. Perfect 7 times in 7 minutes (which included 3 voicemails - I know, I'm impressed as well), and a hangover at midnight.
I randomly ran into a bunch of A-town folks at the Crawl, include my friend from grade school! Love it.
And... yeah, if you're a hater...

Things about the Crawl

Today I volunteered with C-love for the Crawl for Cancer. I thought it would be a lot better than actually participating, turns out... yes, but now. If you're not familiar with the Crawl, teams of ten people go from bar to bar and drink 20 pitchers of beer at 5 bars. Yeah. Two pitchers of beer per person. Yeah. Oh, and it's for cancer research. Yes, we all get the stupidity of the concept, but at $45 per person and over 5,000 people, yeah, it works.

So they gave volunteers the same amount to drink.

Dang it.

So here I am.

1 a.m.

Slightly hungover.
And wide awake.

That's what happens when you get home at 6p.m. and pass out. You wake up at 12:30, bored, hungover, and wiiiiide awake.

Damn Crawl.

I'll share pictures later. I'm going to go watch infomercials now.

Sick. Literally.

Just a note.

I had to clean up vomit for work tonight.
And it wasn't my vomit.
It was anonymous vomit.
And I'm not a nurse.
Someone puked all over in the men's bathroom where we were having an event.

I'm ready to leave you, Oklahoma.

Shopping in OK

Now this is amazing. Combining the confederate flag... and get er done. So overwhelmingly WT.

Gen X just bitchslapped Millennials

Another great link from FREEWilliamsburg.
I think I agree with pretty much the entire article, and I'm a millennial.

It's funny to think how my sibilings and I are split on the generational divide. I can see some of what the article talks about playing out in my family life. Mostly that I'm lazy, self-absorbed, and want to be catered to.

I think everyone does, I just expect it to actually happen.

McCain = Old

Things younger than McCain. As FreeWilliamsburg put it, "our new favorite site to emerge since Stuff White People Like." Agreed.

Found Art?

These, um, sculptures? were found randomly in the community center we were at last night for work.

An elephant made out of tampax box and natty light cans. Discuss.

A sad Crown Royal bag character.

So, did kids make these? Why? So many questions...

Oklahoma.

You are strange.

And I love you.

Enabler

A friend of mine did something nice for me yesterday, but in hindsight, I really don't know what to think about it.

I have a problem, and most of you probably don't know about it.

I'm not proud of it, in fact I try to hide it from my friends and family.

Every time I'm about to do it again, I start rationalizing my actions and telling myself it's not that big of a deal, and that every day tons of people do it.

But it's not ok.

And I shouldn't do it.

Should you do anything that you feel shame about afterwards? That sometimes makes you feel completely uncomfortable in your own skin? That makes you feel like a totally different person, a lie?

I shouldn't.

But I do.

I'm a chronic ill-fitting clothes at work wear-er. Some of you, I know, will try to argue that this is a problem I face 24-7, not just at work. And I know there's reason to feel that way, but honestly, very few of you have seen the clothing I chose to wear to work, and for a reason.

The most common offense is the too-short pants. Yup. I do it. All the time. Every stinking week.

And I tell myself it's ok, I'm wearing flats!
As if that truly gains back any of my dignity.

Then I always fall back on the tried & true - but I will still look better than most of the people here, even if I wear _________.
But some days, even I know that's sadly, just not true.

So yesterday, when C-Love gave me three pairs of pants that I will just barely be able to squeeze into, she not only gave me clothing, she gave me a person to now blame for every poor choice in wardrobe at work.

Enabler!

Watermelon

New Slogans for Oklahoma

Oklahoma, we have no vegetables.

Oklahoma, if it ain’t fried, we ain’t eatin’ it.

Oklahoma, where everything on the salad wagon is white or yellow.

It Ain't All Bad in Oklahoma

template from sugarplum

Mr. Perfect's Birthday

So I know you've been waiting and wondering what kind of goodness I got my Mr. Perfect to celebrate his 27th birthday.

And now, the grand unveiling.

Let's start with least random and work our way to the most fabulously/horrendously random birthday gift. Ever.

So first. The real deal.

Tickets to Royals at Orioles. Cause he's just a KC kid at heart. I made this picture, I mean, I found this picture from the future of Mr. Perfect and his friend at the game. You can't quite tell who went with him... hmmm...

Me oh my Key Lime Pie!

Mr. Perfect loves pie. Especially of the Key Lime variety. I asked him (nicely) to please let me take a picture of the pie before they cut it please? Dang it.

But then you see this and you can't be mad. Look at this man. His KU championship shirt, grill fired up, key lime pie. Happiness.

A lunch decider spinner wheel. Almost every day he asks me what he should have for lunch, so I thought I'd help the decision-making process because I'm terrible at it.

Cinco de Mayo decorations! Because how can you not when your birthday is 5/5?

Markus and I show off next to the dancing couple. And our band...
I love this wee baby pinata.

This shirt. Yes. It's mostly for his friends' enjoyment.

And finally, the grand finale. The most horribly random gift, that I purchased because, he likes meat? (yes, you have to say it with a question mark because as you say it you realize it's not a good enough reason to buy anyone this as a gift, ever. And it sounds awesome after seeing the shirt I got him...)

But can you really blame me for buying this after reading this description: "Five different mouth-watering hunks of miniature fake meat come in each box."

Yeah. I didn't know that it was legal to put "mouth-watering" and "miniature fake meat" in the same sentence. But, as they say, "let the meat be your muse."

I think the best gift of all (definitely) wasn't one I gave him, but was a gift from him to all of his friends - smoking ribs. Clearly the meat was his muse.

I love this man.

RRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrroar!

Look what I found when I opened the box from Perpetualkid.com with Mr. Perfect's presents.

Love.

It.

Okie-Mex

Dinner tonight was... disappointing.

A coworker got me totally pumped about a Mexican restaurant - it was a total dud. I knew we were doomed when the waitress brought out salsa and "cheese." I say "cheese" because it was of totally questionable origin. It looked like nacho cheese from a can - ballpark style - that was void of flavor and watered down. It really had no flavor. I mean, seriously, it was confusing to the senses to have no flavor at all.



I ordered a dinner special that came with beans, rice and...spaghetti? I asked the waitress if it was similar to fideo. She had a look of complete confusion on her face. So I said, is it vermicelli noodles? Why I thought vermicelli would get to her when fideo didn't is a mystery. Finally she tells me it's just spaghetti noodles with cheese. Interesting?



So she brings out our meals and auctions them off one by one - number 12? Number 16?

Number 16... I think that's me... is it a taco, and...

"Two enchiladas," she says.

"Hmm, I think an enchilada and a tamale?" I reply.

"Oh, yeah, sure, whatever. I don't know," she says, placing the plate in front of me.



Yummmmm



So.

The spaghetti.

She didn't lie.

It really is just noodles and cheese.



As I pondered the origins of the spaghetti side dish (I mean, seriously, how is it necessary when you already get rice and beans?), my coworkers decided this was Okie-Mex.



Okie-Mex.

Avoid if possible.

A Brain Fart, From the Brain POV

My favorite card.

A room with a view.

Left at Sue's house, then turn by the barn

I'm on the road for work in Oklahoma again.
Someone asked for directions to our next meeting. The response?

"Two blocks north of the silo."


Ain't no joke.

I love it.

4 o'clock in the mornin'

I had to be at work the other day at 4:30a.m.
When I walked in, there was already a guy, sitting at his desk, starting work the day.

By 5a.m., at least four more people had arrived to work.


Sick.

Annoying

You know what's annoying when you're trying to watch tv?

Tornado sirens.

Can someone turn those off now, please?