A blast from the past

We all remember landlord Laurie and her poo stained son Garrett right? Well, you would be happy to know that these two knuckle heads have blessed our lives with their presence again. I was welcomed, last night, by a kind email from the gentlemen whose apartment I was lucky enough to use while in Monterey. Apparently she billed this guy $50 from her locksmith Garrett. What a crazy coincidence that this guy has the same exact name as her retarded son. What are the odds? This name must really common in Northern California. Apparently her "locksmith" was able to replace the lock while Hal is still able to use his same key in that lock. Go ahead think about that for a second. Is it actually possible for someone to replace a lock and keep the same key? The answer is no. Just like a snowflake, no two locks are the same. So, on top of billing this guy for her son to replace a lock, she also claims that the lock that was replaced can use the same exact key as before. I've got to tell you, it's got to be extremely exhausting being bat shit crazy. I mean to go through life actually thinking that reality doesn't happen. To not remember that I was sitting in your crappy ass house while you had me talk to your special little child and you telling me that you had this amazing deal on AAA that allowed you not to pay for anything? Wow. I mean, I thought I was going to be able to write a blog about the crazy chick, Danielle, from The Real Housewives of New Jersey, but what a pleasant surprise that I got to tie that in with an actual person. I don't understand how these people aren't just tired all the time. How these people are able to function in society. And on top of it, how someone, like Danielle, is able to make money off her crazy. This woman is certifiable! Do you watch that show? It's the last show I have to catch up on on my DVR. (Yes, I've watched that much TV lately) I'm one episode away from being current. But seriously?!?!?! I watched what happened at that party. Why do you constantly go around with a bodyguard, who, oh by the way, totally wants to bang you, and think that these women are "out to get you"? An 18 year old pulls your hair and you turn her into the cops? And talk trash about her in front of your kids? Those poor girls don't stand a chance! Instead of wasting your energy talking to everyone about what other people are supposivey doing, why don't you focus on yourself? Why waste the effort? I know I get caught up in gossip and love a juicy story every now and then, but I don't know how much more of that show I can take. I get stressed out watching it. It's almost gotten too close to the Bachelor for my taste. I mean, if I want real life drama, I spend a day with my entire family, something is bound to happen, and 9 times out of 10 it has nothing to do with them. I am thankful that people like my stepmom exist that want to help the crazy in the world. I'm starting a list of all the people I'd like her to save. So Meg, if you reading this, we need to take a trip to Monterey, probably hit San Antonio on our way back (you know why), and defintely spend a good amount of time in Jersey. We'll call it our Goodwill Tour to save society. I know it won't make for good TV, but holy crap will it save the world from a total mental breakdown.

It's really tiring being perfect....

New Age

Since the biggest news of my life is that in 4 days I'm leaving my job, the stress level around me has gone dramatically down and the most random thoughts and conversations have started happening. For instance, on Friday was my friend Laura's birthday, so a group of us met at a local watering hole and started to talk about how we looked, versus how we felt, versus how old we actually were. Since none of us look the ages that we actually are, I began to think to myself, in my 32 years of existence on this fine planet what was my favorite birthday? What age did I love being? Which one would I like to go back and relive? In my later years I have developed quiet the bad memory, so childhood birthdays are out. As a matter of fact, we could probably just go ahead and throw the whole childhood out as a part of my life I would like to revisit. I'm sure there were parties at McDonalds, roller skating parties, parties in the basement, the typical kid stuff, but if I don't remember it, I'm not sure it actually happened. I do remember one particular birthday, it was my 16th to be exact. Norman had planned this super secret surprise party. The only thing I actually remember was that it was a surprise. Yeah, don't feel sorry for me. I came out okay. Ticks here and there, but all in all, okay. So, my favorite birthday would have to be my 30th in Las Vegas. I had decided that since I wasn't married by that point and most of my friends were, that I would throw a bash in Sin City. I was going to register and have a party, the whole nine yards, but since so many of my friends were able to make it, and they were already spending money to come see me, I threw away the registry idea. Plus, when I do actually get married, who else is going to buy me that rice cooker? (I know Heather, I still have the one you gave me. It was an example, geesh :)) It was a BLAST! Who knew you could have so much fun in the winter in Las Vegas? I put together a scavenger hunt on The Strip and divided my friends into teams. Since I've made so many different friends throughout different parts of my life, a lot of them didn't know each other. I thought this was the perfect time for me to have everyone mingle. And everyone got really into it. We had prizes at the end, at dinner, and everything. Some people got to see parts of Vegas they never thought existed. Plus, if you're not a big gambler, you got the chance to do something different for the day. And believe me, it took the whole day! I'd be happy to send this over to anyone that's interested in taking a peek at it. I've done some creative things in my life, but this one might take the cake. I'm pretty proud of it, if you can't tell. I've got to say, I have some pretty amazing friends. Just writing about that trip made me think about what a fun time I had. Anyway, so dinner was at Batista's hole in the wall. Again, if you haven't been there, it's a little Italian joint behind what used to be Barbary Coast. They have the BEST fried Ravioli outside of St.Louis. They have all you can drink wine and a little tiny man that comes around playing the accordion. NO JOKE! It's awesome! I can't think of one part of this trip that didn't rock! We danced the night away at Studio 54 where I know now that my life will probably be forever changed :) It was just one of those legendary trips that I was so happy to say was because of my birthday! Have I mentioned that I have amazing friends? Because I do!
I used to think that I wanted to be 25 again. Every time someone around me turns 25 I get a smile. 25 is a GREAT year. If you've been it and don't know what I'm talking about, take some time and be 25. Do whatever the hell you want to do and have no regrets. Drink as much as you want, party as much as you want, and walk into work on Monday, just like the rock star that you are. If you are 25 and not doing this yet, start! YOU...WILL...REGRET IT.....if you don't. There is no other time in your life that people will turn a blind eye to you being just absolutely ridiculous than between the ages of 23-25. 25 is the last year you are allowed to get away with it. At 26 you all of a sudden become a grown-up and people start expecting more from you. At 25 you are stupid. Make no mistake. But you are allowed to be, and almost encouraged to be. You're discovering who YOU are, not who your parents, professors, boyfriends, girlfriends, society wants you to be. But at the same time, I did mention that this is what I used to think. If I could be 25 now and know what I also know now, I would do it in a second. But it so true that with age comes wisdom. When I was in my 20's, I used to think that people in their 30's and even 40's were full of it. That they were just lecturing me because I was being stupid and young. Boy was I wrong. I didn't know anything, and will fully admit that I hope I learn so much more as I get older. It's actually exciting to discover yourself changing the way you deal with certain issues. How much you can see and feel yourself grow from your mistakes of the past. So, maybe with this new life change I will relive 25 as a 32 year old. Probably not though. Those amazing friends I told you about won't let me live in my parents basement for the rest of my life, and either will they :)

F YOU VERIZON

I fought for you! I waited it out for you! I even turned my nose up at the iPhone for you and you have let me down! I've called and I've gone in your stores. I've researched every possible way to stay with you and you have ultimately let me down. I've spoken with every slap dick sales person you've thrown at me and they've all let me down in the end. Last night I finally reached my last straw. After weeks and weeks of constant debate and struggle on which phone I wanted, I finally settled on the Droid. Not the Droid X, not the Incredible, not the Aly, the Droid. So, I set my checking account in motion and headed into the store that had originally told me that this would be no problem. A brand new sales trainee greeted me at the front door.
ME: I'd like to buy a Droid
NEWBIE: We ain't got none
ME: Excuse me?
CREEPER: What he meant to say was, we don't have any
ME: No, I just want the Droid, not the X. The Droid.
CREEPER: Are you sure that's what you want? Let's go over and look at these phones.
We turn the corner where the phone display is showing us all the different options of phones to choose from. He hands me the Droid, the phone I want and came into to buy, and an Aly, the phone he is telling me is the same exact phone only different.
CREEPER: You don't want the Droid. It was the first Android device that came out. This Aly does the same exact thing. Here feel it.
I put both phones in my hand. No difference.
ME: Can we get both of these out of the box so I can see them, not in the display case? I mean, if you have some, since Slappy over here doesn't seem to think you have some.
CREEPER: Absolutely.
Both boxes are taken out and assembled. As they are both presented to me, the following actually happens
CREEPER: You see, both of these phones have the same aps the same speed, everything. If I'm lying I'm crying and I haven't shed a tear yet. (Really guy) The only difference are that this phone (the phone he's trying to sell me) has only 4 MB of memory and this phone (the phone I want) has 16 GM of memory.
ME: So they are actually completely different?
CREEPER: Well, that and this phone (POS) only has a 3.5 megapixle camera, while this phone (the one I want) has a 5.
ME: So they are actually completely different phones. What exactly are you taking me for?
CREEPER: What does the ink on your wrist mean?
ME: No Bullshit so spit it out. I want this phone and I'm ready to pay for it.
CREEPER: Okay, let's do it.
So, he starts to manipulate the system. I have no idea what he's doing but he keeps asking questions and answering his cell phone and taking his sweet ass time.
CREEPER: We should totally go out and have some drinks. You know, harmless.
ME: Are you almost done?
CREEPER: Yeah, yeah this should only take a few more minutes. But, yeah, let's go do drinks.
ME: Will your wife come?
Tip tap typing away, thought that might stop you. Didn't think I saw that ring huh a hole?
1HOUR LATER
CREEPER: That's weird, it's not letting me get you this phone.
ME: Okay, guess I'll have to just go then.
CREEPER: So, can we go out for drinks? Can I give you my number.
I grab his cards and walk out the door.
I don't even get into my front door before I have 3 texts on my phone from this guy! Keep in mind that I NEVER gave him my phone number for any other reason than to put it into the computer, NOT to put it into his phone. After all that BS in the store I never thought in one million years this guy would do something so illegal. And on top of that, he didn't even get me the phone.
So, heed these words Verizon! Upon cancelling my contract with you, you will NOT charge me a cancellation fee. You will allow me to sail off into the sunset with a brand new iPhone and you will NOT EVER contact me about anything that might not be paid, or late, or really anything EVER! And you might want to wrangle in your reps at the Country Club store because you don't want the reputation for having bad customer service as the reason that someone leaves you after 10 years to head in a completely different direction.

Thank you kind sir

I'm all for saving the earth. I mean, I used to not care about recycling at all, but then a friend of mine pointed out just how many cans of soda I used to just throw away and I became more cautious. Well, maybe not just cautious, but obsessed. I'm constantly realizing what I use, what I buy, and I always ask at other peoples houses if they recycle before I toss anything that I could give back to the earth. So imagine my surprise, as I walk out my front door this morning at 6:38 AM to the recycle man with a scowl on his face. My dog is going nuts. I mean, berzerk and this guy is lecturing me on how if I don't turn my recycle bin in the correct direction that he is not going to collect it anymore. I had to ask him twice what he said as Old Yeller would not stop with the barking. He even put a Sad Face sticker on my bin to remind me of my wrong doing. I almost asked him if he was kidding because as I look down the street I notice that every single one of the bins that are out on the curb are facing the SAME direction as mine was. And not only that, the little jerk put my bin back the exact same way as he got it out. Apparently there is some arm that comes out of his truck that allows him to not have to do more work than pressing a button. I have tremendous respect for those human beings that pick up garbage. Especially my garbage. Since 99% of what I put in that bin is dog poop and and it's been hot out, you can see where my respect comes in. But are you seriously going to strike up conversation with me at 6:30 in the morning, when clearly I don't want to be out of bed, let alone get lectured by you on which way my bins faced because you had to get out of your truck?!?! And on top of it threaten to not take my bins the next time they face the wrong way? Come on guy, really?!?!?! I'm sorry I made you do work so early in the morning. I'm sorry my bin was facing the wrong way. How about this one. How about next time you decide to change out the bins, you bring a sister the correct one so she doesn't have to steal her non-existent neighbors. How about you make your trucks a little quieter so my dog doesn't go nuts as you drive by. How about your don't make it a state law to recycle every little item. Or how about your just send out a note that tells me which way you want my bins to face. Why yes, I would love to make your life easier and in two more pick ups you won't have to worry about little ole me any more. But please don't lecture me at 6:30 in the morning all because you had to get out of your truck. If we all got to complain about something not going right at work and take it out on someone, I think we would. Guess who's not getting a Christmas present this year???

A conversation with my 6 year old self

How much easier would life be if we never matured past our 6 year old selves? How much more wonder would the world be filled with if we still believed in Santa Clause or magic or grown ups doing no wrong? I can't even think of what I was like back then, but if my biggest stress was missing Dora or Thomas, life would be good. I am constantly reminded of how much of an old curmudgeon I've become when I get the opportunity to spend some time with youngsters. I, myself, am not too keen on the idea of having my own baseball team, or even really a doubles tennis team, but each time I get around a child in the age range of 4-6 I can't stop myself from smiling. Last week I was afforded that golden opportunity to spend some time with my cousins 4 year old son and his 9 and 13 year old sisters. I love those girls very dearly, but there is just something about a little kid that's in kindergarden that just gets me. They don't really comprehend what your saying, entirely, so what they do hear, or stop long enough to process, comes out completely wrong than what you actually said. You see, 9 year old was playing this game with me called just don't smile at that girl. That girl being me. I guess I should be more specific in saying that she was playing, I was the victim in these shenanigans. As endearing as that might sound....I call happy opposite day on that one. So, I lean into 4 year old and say, Jake, make sure you don't make your sister smile. Can you do that for me? He then zips around the corner at lightening speed screaming, DON'T MAKE ME SMILE! Even as I write it, I'm laughing. It's just how they work. I'm sure as a parent this is the part that drives you up the wall. But how can you help but not laugh at them? And then there is the time when I had the pleasure of spending a little while with an older man. You see, he's 6. It's venturing towards too old for me, but I thought I'd give it a try anyway. I heard he had a lot to say, so this couldn't be boring. I was warned though, but again, I'm kind of a sucker for this age range so I couldn't imagine what lurked behind door number one. As I walk in the office, I'm greeted by iCarly? For those of you that are older than age 10 and don't have kids AND know what this is, shame on you. You should immediately leave the computer, get in your car, and go to a bar. Meet someone new and NEVER mention that you watch or know what this show is. I'm still not entirely sure what the whole gigst of the show is. I was, however, told that he's not entirely sure why, but both Carley and Sam love him. How does he know? Well because they only look at him when he's watching the show. I mean, come on! How cute is that! Sure, as adults we would try and crush his imagination by telling him that they are looking at a camera which is then projected onto your TV screen, but if you thought that your world would be limitless. And don't tell me that when your favorite celebrity has a breakup, there is not a small part of your brain that says, well why wouldn't he/she be with me? I'm way cooler than whoever they were just with. If only I knew anyone remotely close to that person or a distant relative or someone that could help us meet. Who are we to crush these kids dreams when I know that I watched talking under water creatures with snorkles coming out of the top of their heads. So, after an extremely long education session on what in the world he was watching, I looked around the room to see if there might be anything else that we could talk about. I then noticed that his backpack had a picture of some sort of blue creature on it. So I did what any person in my position would do, I asked. After, maybe 15-20 minutes of explaining to me who that was and then proceeding to slay two imaginary dragons, in front of me, I tried to change the subject yet again. I felt this particular story had run its course. Now, if there is one lesson I have learned by being around children, if they are not finished telling a story, do not interupt them. They aren't finished and they know that you don't understand. So they are going to keep telling this story until you either walk away, fall asleep, or they think you care. I want to make it known that I DID care who was on the backpack. I did ask the question. I just didn't think we would then be heading off to the land of Narnia where I would have to "watch out" when he pulled out his imaginary sword, which was 2x the size of him. But as I also learned, he has giant muscles, which he showed me, that he gets from sleeping. So hear this workoutaholics, if you want big muscles, be in bed by 9 and wake up by 8:30. It's the easiest training session you'll ever encounter :o) I guess I should know better than to ask all these questions, but my time spent with younger children is so limited that I sometimes think that they are just tiny adults. I was told though, during my dragon session, that kids really do know everything. Adults don't think they do, but they do. But, not as much as God. He knows everything. So that got me thinking, which led to this blog, which led to you reading it, which will hopefully lead to you thinking about it. Although I do not stand behind ANYONE that has Peter Pan syndrome, I think I would like to try at least one 5 year old mentality thing per day. Whether it's sitting outside and holding someones hand to cross the street, or playing with my match box cars on my carpet or just realizing that world is full of so much wonder and possibilities. What are we all so stressed out about? We seemed to breeze right through our toddler years, no problem. They seem to be okay. Although the teachers in the crowd would probably disagree with me, there has to be some place in your heart for these little yodas. Things are so simple for them. You haven't quiet started to go to school yet and if you are the only things you're learning are how to count, how to spell, and how not to pee your pants. There really aren't any mean girls. Your lunch consists of a PB&J and a snack pack, and you get a nap. Like someone actually delegates time for you to take a nap! How much more would we get accomplished as a world if we all got nap time? It would be amazing! Now on the other hand, I do understand that tasks and projects would take about a million years to get done since these adorable little monsters do get bored and distracted very easily, but if that's the only downside, count me in. I'm all for listening to the kids of the world to see what they think. Maybe they really do have all the answers and we're too busy with our "really important problems" to take notice. Whitney Houston might be on to something, perhaps the children really are our future. :o) Happy Monday!

Squishy is the new black

As the ladies and I were sitting around the old campfire last night for book club, a question was asked of the crowd: "In Lisa's list of what women want, she mentions equal pay, compassionate lighting and a lot of foreplay. What would you add?" Let me first address where this question came from. For a little lite summer reading, the ladies chose a brief autobiography of sorts by a staff writer for Oprah. Yes, THAT Oprah. The book was silly, and not the David Sadaris laugh out loud, rolling on the floor while having to read that paragraph over b/c you can hardly believe that something so absurd happened him, silly, but the I really can't believe that this lady writes for Oprah and has her own book, silly. It's not the worst book I've ever read, but it definitely not water cooler material. But she did have some great insight and upon group reflection of the question, we came up with some pretty amazing answers. Who wouldn't want lipo availability at any time? Or a personal trainer that would tell you what to work out and what to eat? But what does that woman want? Unless we start living in the Jetsons era, which I guess we do, but we don't, there is no possible way that ALL women could be happy at one time. My suggestion was to make squishy acceptable. Instead of worrying about how to get thin or how to eat well, you just are what you are. How many times have you looked at a priceless piece of art and thought, hmmm that woman has curves. Why can't that be okay now? Why does Jennifer Love Hewitt have to be on the treadmill for 50 minutes a day so that the press will stop bothering her about her weight "issues". I don't know Love personally, but if I did, I would be a good friend and tell her that she looks great just the way she was. There is no reason in the world to starve yourself, or do something that other people would consider crazy, so that someone else thinks you look good. This is, of course, coming from the girl who started this whole blog thing b/c she was logging her P90x progress, but I've grown. Not just physically and more squishy, but wait, what was I talking about? Anyway, I think we should start a movement. A "squishy is the new black" movement. We start our own trend and make models feel bad about the way THEY look. I am not, however, suggesting that people let themselves go all together. I cannot understand how some people can physically weigh 700 pounds or how they even got to the point. At some point in their lives didn't they have people that loved them? Don't they still. I mean, okay, everyone should fluctuate around the 10 pound mark. Sometimes you're over, sometimes you're under. 10 pounds is something one can really carry well. Once you start getting over, or under that marker, the people around you should start taking notice. Maybe you just had a bad breakup, maybe someone very close to you died, maybe you had a baby, or maybe you lost your job. Whatever the case may be, you're allowed to have a grieving period. But once people start taking notice, how do you not have someone in your life that would be like, hey, let's go for a walk? Maybe you shouldn't have that 40th "diet" coke of the day. Maybe instead of going to Pizza Hut, we should head to Whole Foods and have a salad. There are ways to drop hints, I would think. And then, once you hit the 100 mark, what happens? Do people start checking out on your? Is your whole life consumed with fast food and french fries? Have you started noticing the grease marks on your bed stand? Have you started noticing that you have trouble breathing walking to the bathroom? Can you go to the bathroom? And then, when you physically can't see or reach your own shoes. When you live with your mom and dad b/c you can't take care of yourself. Why is that okay? How have they not said anything to you? I just don't get it. See, I'm okay with being squishy (I'm really not, but I'm not doing something about it so I really can't complain right now), and I'm really okay with other people being squishy, but where do you draw the line and how do you tell that person that they are getting fat? The Squishy is the new black movement would help all this. Instead of feeling like you're never going to be thin again and let yourself tip the scales, you can be okay with the regular weight. 80% of the way you look is what you put in your body anyway. The SITNB movement will also head into fast food restaurants and not shut them down, but alter them. No, Jabba the Hut you can't super size that meal b/c while you were in line at the drive threw, we weighed your car and know you are alone. Here is a delicious chicken sandwich with a side salad and a water. Why no, you can't have dressing. Thank you, come again. We would make the employees of these establishments the gate keepers. The patrons would still spend the same amount of money, or heck you could even make the healthier stuff cheaper. If you got every one of those "restaurants" on board, I bet you would see a dramatic change in obesity. And then there are the sit down establishments. Did you know that American portions are almost 3 times the size of a healthy normal portion? How many times have you sat down in a restaurant and a waiter has brought you a meal that you will more than likely pay $23 for and it's the size of your fist? Rule of thumb, it should always be the size of your fist. That's a portion size. Most people don't know that. But if you go to most places here in America, they will fill the plate up with food. Sometimes it's even dripping off the side. I'm not complaining about this by any means. As a matter of fact, I know where to go eat when I'm starving and when I'm not. I'm simply stating that if it's in front of me, I'm not going to know when to stop eating it. But, if I was only given the amount of food that I'm supposed to eat instead, my body should adjust, right? So, join me in the SITNB movement. We'll start changing people lives and make being squishy socially acceptable.

1400, 24, 3

I have never in my life hated numbers more than I do today. I am aware that we need numbers in our lives almost as much as we need oxygen, however, today I'm simply going to try and ignore them. If these three numbers were my winning lottery ticket numbers or how many seconds, minutes, and hours until I get to lay my head back on my pillow, I would love it, but they are not. Unfortunately, these numbers are the amount of miles I drove, the amount of hours I was in my car, and the number of days in which this all was accomplished this weekend. 1400 is a lot for one weekend, or really one trip. Do you know where one could go from Winston Salem in 1400 miles? Halfway across the country, that's where! But you know where I went? Jersey. Not Jersey, TX, not Jersey, SD, New Jersey, New Jersey. Fist pumping, big hair, guidolishish dirty Jersey. For those of you mapquesting this journey at home, the actual distance it should have taken me to get up to my location is 528.6 miles. Upon getting back into my car to start my trip back home yesterday, I had already driven 700 and some odd miles. I could hardly believe it myself. I am convinced that I spent more time in my car than out of it and even further convinced that I spent more time in my car than I did sleeping. Needless to say I'm extremely tired this morning and running on fumes. To make matters worse, after crossing the Delaware bridge it started raining. And not just the occasional sprinkle or two, but the HOLY CRAP grab your arc and pair of animals type down pour. I can't be certain, but I think I passed Noah on my way down 85. ( just in case you didn't get the arc reference the first time) And all this for a drama filled, anxiety ridden bridal shower weekend. If nothing else, I have learned lessons that will truly last me a life time. Allow me to enlighten you all:
1. Upon leaving for an extremely long trip, make sure to leave work before 5 pm. This will ensure that you will get to your destination before your normal bed time. Don't think that by leaving later you will actually avoid traffic and might be able to cut your trip shorter. The time in which you leave makes no difference, unless your vehicle is a plane.
2. Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT eat at a Quizno's ANYWHERE on 85 N. These people are slow and stupid. There were four people that were standing behind the counter and only one making sandwiches. I couldn't tell you exactly what the other three were doing, but I can tell you they were not working. And God bless the little Asian woman in front of me that didn't speak a lick of English except for the phrase, "Kids Eat Free?". So LaShonda thought if she spoke louder, slower, and with a bit more attitude that the lady would understand her. All that did was piss me off. But, I will say this, to those of you readers that are unemployed, do I have an opportunity for you!
3. I do, indeed, have some very interesting revelations on my long drives. One trip I decided what entire meal that I would have if I were on death row and given my last supper. I have no idea what I've done to get in prison and have a last meal, but it really wasn't the point of the exercise. Included in this meal were alcoholic drink, non alcoholic drink, appetiser, entree (including side item), and dessert. I would have thought this particular process would have taken me a bit of time, but among my many journeys through life in the form of food, I found that this particular task did not take longer than an hour. My conclusions were dirty grey goose martini (extra dirty), Arnold Palmer, Cheese Fries from Snuffers, Fajitas from Pappasitos with fried Spinach from Firebirds on the side, and plain cheesecake with a chocolate chip cookie crust. I did warn you that I have some interesting conversations with my self while I'm in the car for a long time, but this was another trip. On this particular evening I concluded that in my next life, I would like to come back as my dog. Not just any dog, but my dog. This girl has the life. She doesn't have to drive anywhere, someone feeds you, scratches your head and belly when you want it, and cleans up your poop after you go? Perhaps that thumbs are overrated and if we don't have them, others might be able to do more for us. Maybe Brett was right, Ariel. Who is in charge?
4. Don't listen to your cousin when she tells you that it's only going to be an hour and 15 minutes more from where you are. 3 hours later you will arrive.
5. I will not, under any circumstance, be having a wedding! The whole ordeal seems more about the relatives and what other people want as opposed to the actual bride and groom. At what point do these two people get lost in the minutia? When does, what they want, not matter? B/c I will say this, if you don't want to have a shower, don't. If you don't want to have a wedding, don't. In the end, you're going to have a terrible time b/c you've already built it up.
6. It does not matter how old you are, never, under any circumstance is it okay to sass your grandma. You are NEVER too old to be punished!
7. The people on the show The Jersey Shore are actually an extremely beautiful version of what you will see on the boardwalk. My family literally lives on the other side of the bridge from Seaside Heights. Never in my life have I seen so little clothes, so many "Italian Pride" t-shirts or booty shorts, or a shit hole more popular than I did this weekend. The same thing is just going to happen to Miami as soon as that train wreck starts. And I will guarantee you that the gay community will be up in arms soon b/c there is no doubt in my mind that one of those meat heads is going to say something so wildly inappropriate. I just hope they get clocked for it.
8. A girl can only take so much Kelly Clarkson, Usher, Lady Antebelum, and Pink before she starts to hate them. It's definitely time to update the old ipod.
9. In the Sheetz vs. Wawa challenge, the one in the front is Wawa. Now, I still love you Sheetz and I will MTO you every day of the week and perhaps even twice on Sundays, but your competition just made it a little harder. If you have not frequented one of these establishments, I truly suggest you turn your nose back down and believe that a gas station can make one hell of a sandwich. I didn't think so either until I gave it a shot. You see, you can essentially make your own sandwich and someone else puts it together for you. It's like your own personal sandwich chef. You can choose your bread, your cheese, your toppings and most importantly your condiments. This is where Wawa took the prize yesterday. So listen up Sheetz. It's time you expanded your condiment list. Let's get past the mustard, mayo, ranch, oil and vinegar and kick it up a notch. I love me some ranch and upon ANY normal day would choose it, however, if you are giving me the option of adding creamy delicious Miracle Whip to my sandwich, you will have me at hello. I mean, who does that?!?!?!?! What an amazing surprise along my journey home. Of course, it was only an hour into the drive and I had to go the back way since 95 was all backed up, but still! What an amazing discovery. So Sheetz, now you know what you have to do to get me back, but it still might not work since they did have it first.
And last but in no way least # 10. There is an Amazing Race slot machine!!!!! I thought I had died and gone to heaven AN AMAZING RACE SLOT MACHINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was probably the most exciting thing that happened to me all weekend, and let me tell you that besides the lessons that I learned, there is MUCH more to the story.

Well, happy Tuesday to you all and oh by the way, it's only 7 hours and 34 minutes before I visualize me laying my head on my pillow and passing out for the next 9 hours.