Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Rekindling an Old Friendship: Not As Scary As I Thought

On Saturday night, we were privileged enough to be invited over to Chez Allen & Rob for dinner and catching up. It had been a good eight years since we'd visited with Allen, aside from the one evening last month when we stalked him, so there was definite potential for quite the awkward evening. However, our time spent ended up being quite the contrary, and we're both so insanely glad we went.

I've known Allen since my sophomore year of high school. We were both band geeks together. Alto sax band geeks, that is. Allen's quirky sense of humor and sweet disposition quickly made him one of my favorite people. I just don't think I would have made it through band without Allie Scallie eating my LipSmackers Kiwi lip gloss in pep band during the basketball games or giving me rides home after practice in his huge boat-of-car, belting along to the tunes of Culture Club. We remained close until sometime during my sophomore year at college. It was his freshman year, and I think between me being so wrapped up in Stephen, who had moved to Knoxville, and him being so wrapped up in the college experience, we just drifted apart. Thankfully, though, we've been given the opportunity to reunite, and hopefully we can maintain the friendship we started many years ago.

Also, Allen seriously makes the best chocolate cake I've ever tasted. If nothing else, that is all the motivation I need to keep this "friendship" thing alive from my end.

Thanks, Allen and Rob, for a great evening! You guys are the best hosts. Between the hospitality, the company, your cozy mod place, and the food, we were very tempted never to leave. I just hope when we have the honor of having you over for dinner, we don't offend you too much with our boorish ways. I'm sure the boxed Mac 'n' Cheese and corndogs we'll prepare for you will win your hearts over, though.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Sunday Night with Morrissey

It had been a long seven years.

The first time we had the pleasure of seeing Morrissey in concert was on Valentine's Day of 2000, when we had to drive all the way to Akron, OH, to see his charming ass. Of course we didn't mind doing so, but we were thrilled to find out this year he was going to be performing in our neck of the woods. I know he did it just for us, too - what a sweetheart.

Other than a few minor setbacks - such as the chubby drunk girls in front of us who (a) kept loudly shouting at each other during the show, (b) continually managed to plant themselves directly in my line of vision (I think we're all aware that I'm not the tallest girl on the block), and (c) not only kept showing us their buttcracks, as their pants were about two sizes too small and just barely covered their Netherregions, but also smelled like dirty buttcracks - the show on Sunday night was well worth the wait. He was very friendly and humorous, and surprisingly didn't throw out too many political stabs. We were a bit worried about the setlist because, to be honest, his last couple of albums aren't among our favorites and we figured he'd end up playing mostly new songs. Happily, though, he played a good mix of old and new, including some cherished gems from the days of The Smiths: The Queen Is Dead / First Of The Gang To Die / The Youngest Was The Most Loved / You Have Killed Me / Disappointed / Panic / Let Me Kiss You / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / I Will See You In Far Off Places / The National Front Disco / At Last I Am Born / Irish Blood, English Heart / All You Need Is Me / I've Changed My Plea To Guilty / The Boy With The Thorn In His Side /Suedehead / Everyday Is Like Sunday / Ganglord / Life Is A Pigsty / How Soon Is Now? He wrapped the show up with an encore performance of "You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side." Personally, I think he could have picked a better encore song, but he closed with one of my personal favorites, "How Soon Is Now?" so I won't complain too much.

I think Stephen's favorite part of the night, other than just being in the presence of the buttcrack girls, was the little striptease Moz did for us. That's right: full upper body nudity, people. Too bad I couldn't find a picture online of it.

All in all, it was an incredible show. I just hope we won't have to wait another seven years before getting to see him again.

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

Geek, Dweeb, or Spaz?

Sunday evening on our way home from Dayton, we stopped at a Steak 'n' Shake restaurant for dinner. Right after we ordered, a couple who was probably in their mid-forties was seated across the aisle from us.

Thank God they only got dessert and left after about a half an hour, but in that time they still managed to scare off the gentleman seated behind them who had been quietly sipping a milkshake and reading a book since before we had arrived.

The woman had a hand puppet.

And played with it. And pet it. And spoke to her husband with it.

Nearly the entire time they were there.

And even spoke to the server with it.

Oh, they thought this was THE most hilarious thing ever, giggling and snorting over this incredibly stupid puppet. At first I thought they were just drunk, this frumpy couple of dorks. Then it all made sense.

I overheard her say they had just gone to see Spamalot. And the puppet? It was of the killer rabbit.

Oh. My. God.

These people give dorks a bad name.

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Monday, May 14, 2007

Rowan Brown Is Not a Pagan Baby

Yesterday, on Mother's Day, we traveled to Dayton to witness the baptism of our baby nephew, Rowan. A large chunk of the family was in attendance, and afterward we went back to the Brown Estate for a little celebration.


It was quite a lovely time had by all. You can check out all the wild and crazy pictures here. Thanks, Photographer Steve, for all your hard work with the camera.

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Friday, May 11, 2007

Glad to Know We Are Still Capable of Sharing Intelligent Conversation

(Conversation that took place approximately five minutes ago)

Me: "I think I'm going to go get ready for bed."

Steve: "Why?"

Me: "Because I'm really tired."

Steve: "Why?"

Me: "I don't know. I just am."

Steve: "Hm."

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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Bathroom Etiquette 101

Almost on a daily basis I find myself being reminded that people never cease to amaze me. Unfortunately, it's rarely good deeds that prompt this reminder.

Let me first explain the pet peeve located at the very top of my list of 55,468,972 pet peeves: Inconsideration. People who either are too ignorant and wrapped up in themselves to even try to consider other people's feelings or, even worse, people who are such jackasses that they don't care one iota about other people's feelings seriously make me consider committing multiple homicides daily.

Now, let's throw some inconsideration into my beautiful KitchenAid mixer from my favorite mother-in-law and add some bodily functions. Voila! I give you nearly every public restroom I have ever reluctantly set foot in.

However, restrooms located in gas stations, fast food joints, malls, parks and rest areas are, unfortunately, expected to be nasty. It's almost as if that's part of their disgusting charm. I mean, just think how long traveling would take if you actually stopped every time the urge hit, no longer feeling the need to suppress it out of fear of toxic bathroom encounters. And, let's face it, public bathrooms are a great reminder that whether we shop at Sears or Saks, we all have to make potty. (And you can find me using the restroom at Saks, even if I'm shopping at Sears, because Saks' restrooms always happen to be spotless in comparison to Sears' restrooms. Hmmm...)

So those are public bathrooms. Filthy for the most part, but it's an expected filthy. Bathrooms at work, however, should not be filthy. That is, unless you work at a gas station, fast food joint, mall, park or rest area. Granted, very few of us are priveleged enough to have our own personal bathroom at the office, so it's true to say these could be classified as public bathrooms, as many people are sharing them. However, these bathrooms are also located in private offices that are not necessarily open to the general public and, therefore, could be classified as non-public bathrooms. Public or not, it doesn't matter. What matters is that work is our home away from home, whether we like it or not, and we ought to treat our bathrooms in the same manner we'd treat our own. It frightens me to think of how some people probably treat their home bathrooms, though, so I'm sadly feeling the need to publish some very basic bathroom rules that everyone should follow. If you don't follow these rules, you are an inconsiderate jackass and had best make certain to lock your stall else my homicidal tendencies flare up.
  1. FLUSH. And, FLUSH THOROUGHLY. Yes, I am aware there are the occasional toilets you come across that are tricky - even though you technically did flush, half of the potty is still there. I know it's a TON of extra work and time out of your precious day, but you absolutely must turn around and look in the toilet and make certain that ALL of the potty has left the premises. If any potty remains, I'm sorry, but you must flush again. I know it's not fair, but these are just some of the great injustices of the developed world in which we live that we must suffer. Furthermore, should you be unfortunate enough to encounter a toilet that will not flush at all, close the door of the stall and tape a note to it stating it's out of service. This will prevent others from accidentally witnessing the sight of your potty, which let's face it, could really ruin someone's day in certain circumstances. You now ought to contact your maintenance crew and apprise them of the situation at hand.

  2. You know those cutesy signs people hang up in their bathrooms that ever-so-hilariously-and-cleverly remind us, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe your seat!"? You should always, ALWAYS follow this rule. I have met a lot of squatters out there and, although I myself am not talented enough to practice such acrobatics, I totally understand your philosophy. However, I also know this is how a lot of said sprinkling while tinkling occurs. And for Heaven's sake, WIPE IT UP! Tinkle left on the seat of the toilet is completely and utterly unacceptable, possibly even worse than not flushing. At least if you don't flush, all the next person has to do is push the lever. If you don't wipe up your tinkle, however, that next person either has to wipe up YOUR urine or, even better, if he/she doesn't examine the seat closely enough prior to sitting, he/she gets the pleasure of sitting IN your urine. Absolutely disgusting, and sadly the most common bathroom rule-breaker I witness.

  3. This rule is exclusively for the ladies. You menfolk can skip onto number four. *Ahem* LADIES: Feminine hygiene products go IN the provided basket. Not in or on the toilet, not on the floor, and most definitely not on the walls. If all of the ladies truly were ladies, this would not even be an issue. And apparently, there are a lot of un-ladylike ladies out there. Okay, so now that you know where the used products go, let me stress that there are two other steps to proper disposal. One, WRAP WRAP WRAP up your nasties. Put yourself in the cleaning crew's shoes. I know this requires you to be CONSIDERATE for a moment, but bear with me. Cleaning up after strangers is bad enough, but cleaning up unwrapped girl waste? Ew! I actually came across this lovely little rule-breaker today, which was the last straw that prompted me to publish this rant. So, the whole three of you reading this (the other two are men and have skipped this section) can thank little Miss Too-Busy-and-Too-Good-to-Wrap-Up-Her-Pantyliner for this post. Two, if the receptacle is a wall-hanging basket, there is generally a little paper sack inside of it. USE IT! Do not discard your lady products all willy-nilly in the basket. Place them inside the provided paper sack. I don't know if you are too ignorant or clueless or inconsiderate to have figured this out on your own, but if you don't place your waste inside the bag, the cleaning person has to actually reach in there and grab your dirty trash with his/her hands in order to dispose of it. Oh, but you say, that's their job! And they ought to be wearing gloves, so what difference does it make? Don't even go there. I would not want to touch anyone's used feminine products with a ten foot pole, not even if I'm being paid to do it and wearing gloves. And finally, ladies, always close the lid to the receptacle. Unless it is overflowing and leaving it open cannot be helped, there is no excuse for you to leave the lid open for the waste to greet the next stall vistor. Just remember...wrap, sack and close!

  4. I understand the most unpleasant urge (i.e., number two) sometimes strikes and you cannot wait until you go home to relieve said urge. There are some common courtesy guidelines you ought to follow in doing so, however, so that everyone involved can leave the situation with dignity. The only times it is excusable to disobey these rules is when you're sick and, let's face it, sometimes we don't have total control over whether these rules are fully obeyed. But with that said, you should try your hardest when possible to be considerate. For one, if someone is already in the bathroom when you enter, that person has bathroom dibs. If you are entering for the business of number one, you may do so, but quickly, and immediately leave after hand washing. No teeth brushing or make-up application. Pee and run, that's what I say. The person with bathroom dibs ought to reward you for being considerate and hurrying out of there by pausing his/her activities until you have left the room. If you are entering for the business of number two, you have two options: find another bathroom that is empty, or come back later. Either way, this bathroom is currently off limits unless, again, you're ill or have no control. Then, by all means, GO! (Like you'll have much of a choice.) I honestly cannot believe I had to make up this next rule because I think, who would do this? But, unfortunately, I have witnessed this on a few separate occasions so I must put it on the record. NO GRUNTING OR GROANING ALLOWED. NONE. NOT EVEN A LITTLE MOAN. Seriously, that's just plain tacky. And weird. And a little creepy. And a lot gross. And finally, I'm sure everyone has heard of the "courtesy flush." This is where you flush at a certain point, say, when someone walks in, but before you're done. Again, this rule requires a bit of consideration, but really not a whole lot if you consider the fact that it's also alleviating the unpleasantness for you, as well.
If I still haven't convinced people to use these very simple rules, maybe the fact that there are a lot of shoe observers out there will. I, myself, am a shoe observer. You know, when you're sitting in the stall or standing outside the stall and notice the shoes the other people in the stalls are wearing. The building in which my office is located has one bathroom per floor. So, our office shares a three-stall bathroom with several other departments on our floor. I can always tell when someone from my office is in the bathroom (and I can honestly say I've never witnessed any rule breaking done by my office mates), and there are a few other people outside my office that I've come to recognize by their shoes. So, you may feel totally anonymous inside that rickety little stall of yours, but the shoe observers are onto your game....

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Monday, May 07, 2007

Major Case of the Lazies

I thought spring was supposed to energize, motivate, refresh, and inspire. I thought once the weather decided to stop being schizo and maintain peak temperatures of above 60 degrees, I'd become this sort of Energizer Bunny of cleaning and exercising and, you know, leaving the house and stuff. It just sure would be nice to feel that burst of renewed energy that you're supposed to feel when the seasons change. Of course, I guess to have renewed energy, you'd need to have some level of energy to begin with.

I'm not sure what my problem is lately. Every year I seem to get worse and worse. Perhaps my spirit is merely prematurely aging. On the outside, late twenties. On the inside, 72 going on 73. I predict this time next year, I'll be well into my hundreds, desperately wanting to shake my cane at all the joggers, bicyclists, and baby stroller pushing passersby for taunting me in my sedentary condition, but unable to as, alas, that would require too much energy.

It doesn't help matters when you put two lazy people under the same roof. Stephen honestly doesn't care what the house looks like, as long as it's not a total trash pit. You know, how most guys are: he could care less if there are things hanging on the walls, and whether those walls are painted a pretty color or are just plain carpenter's white makes no difference to him. Although, I have to give him credit. Last week, as I mentioned in my previous post, he really impressed me and did some chores around the house that had been put off for months. And months. And what have I done since then? Three whole loads of laundry. And I critiqued his picture hanging - I can't forget that exhausting chore. But the way it goes for me is I do get bursts of energy, but then I look around and feel overwhelmed and realize I don't have enough storage space and not enough storage space means I have to get rid of something and OH MY GOD I DON'T HANDLE PARTING WITH THINGS EASILY, BRING ME A PAPER BAG IN WHICH TO BREATHE!

And once I've stopped violently convulsing in a tantrum on the floor, I wipe the tears from my eyes and the snot from my nose and come and sit at the computer and just ignore the problem at hand. Because that....that is what I'm really good at.

So anyway, I figure if I confess and write about what an incredible blob I'm turning into between the laziness and the procrastination and the confusion, maybe, just maybe, this will inspire me to change my wickedly pathetic ways so, if nothing else, I'll have some awesome story on overcoming to post on here. As if overcoming laziness is exactly the same as, you know, overcoming drug addiction or some life threatening disease. Wow, who knows, I could have Oprah banging down my door to do a show on my brave recovery from self-destructive behaviors...such as not sweeping the floor Saturday or skipping out the past three nights on my stomach crunches or not working on organizing this God-foresaken office. My problems are THIS huge, people.

I really, really hope someone out there is playing the world's smallest violin for me right now.

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Bestest Husband Ever

I came home this evening all cranky - which, by the way, is totally not abnormal, but I was much crankier than usual because some of the higher-ups in my company were in for a lovely meeting with my office - to find my darling husband all worked up in a sweat.

"Oh, honey, you painted!" (I am referring to the spot in the family room where touch ups were made on nail pops during our 18-month inspection in JUNE. You know....eleven months ago.)

"Yep. I also painted in there," he says, pointing to the spot in the dining room where a crack in the wall was touched up in DECEMBER for our 2-year inspection. "And, I bought mulch and spread it out around the patio."

The icing on the cake? He also went to the store and bought not one, but TWO packs of buttwipes. That's 100 moist sheets of clean goodness!

Crappiest day ever turned into most awesome day ever (no pun intended). The man knows the way to my heart like the back of his hand.

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