Friday, February 29, 2008
Just a Quick Hello
I'm back from D.C., but only for long enough to unpack and repack my suitcase, because in nine hours I will be on my way to Clearwater! And a few hours after that, I will (hopefully) be sitting at my favorite beachside grill, with a very cute boy (possibly the one I'm traveling with, but maybe another one), drinking something very delicious (and very potent).
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The White Cultural Center
This morning I discovered a blog that I'm sure most of you have known about for days, called Stuff White People Like. (And if you haven't read it yet, then go read it now...I know you will love it, especially if you are white, because white people love reading the blog about what white people like.)
Just like everyone else who reads it, I think this blog is both hilarious and TRUE (well, it's hilarious because it's true). But I also think it's a little...what's the word I'm looking for...condescending? I mean, after reading it, I kind of feel like I can't even go to the damn bathroom without being stereotypical and unoriginal. (White people like to sit on the commode when they take a shit. It makes them feel like they are a king or a queen, presiding over the rest of their remodeled home from their pretentious porcelain throne.)
Nevertheless, in true white-person fashion, I'm going to jump on the proverbial bandwagon, and instead of coming up with my own topic to blog about today, I'm going to add to The List. Keep in mind that I live in Tennessee, so some of these things may not be applicable to white people living in, say, Seattle. Kind of like how the Whole Foods one (on the other blog) doesn't apply to me, 'cause we don't have one here. Although we do have some place called Earth Fare, where my (white) friend Teeny spends, like, 94% of her time.
Drinking Games.
White people under the age of 30 like to be engaged in some activity while we're binge drinking. Drinking games provide that activity, while at the same time enhancing the drinking experience by making us drink even more than we would have otherwise. Now, there are two types of drinking games. The first category, Classic Drinking Games, includes the games that were designed with the specific purpose of getting (white) people drunk. These are games like Flip Cup, Beer Pong, Circle of Death, and Three Man. The second category, Hybrid Drinking Games, includes the games that started out as "regular" games (Uno, Jenga, Twister), but have been altered so as to require...you guessed it...drinking. As a white person, I must admit, I love playing Drinking Games.
The Obligatory "Bowling Night."
Sometimes (white) couples start to get bored with the Going Out Scene, mainly because they realize that going out with your significant other entirely defeats the purpose of Going Out, which is to meet, flirt with, and possibly sleep with, the opposite sex. Thus, unless you're playing Darts or Nudey Touch Screen (also known as Erotic Photo Hunt) at the bars, you tend to be Bored Out of Your Mind. To avoid this, a group of white couples will plan a "Bowling Night," which will allow them to still feel like they're "out on the town," but not feel bitter toward their single friends, who are having so much more fun. When they arrive at the bowling alley, they will immediately feel alternative and "old school," and they will agree that they should go to, like, Waffle House or IHOP afterward (because those places are old school too). Oh, and it's a given that white people will document Bowling Night (for which they are highly overdressed) by taking at least 37 pictures.
Cover Bands.
The author of Stuff White People Like has very correctly stated that white people go crazy for 80's nights. So, it goes without saying that we are absolutely cuckoo for 80's cover bands. We also enjoy (and will pay at least ten dollars to see) bands who cover music from other decades, such as the 70's and the 90's (e.g., Sublime cover bands, Dave Matthews cover bands, and, my personal favorite, Rolling Stones cover bands). When watching cover bands, white women will stand directly in front of the stage and fawn over the lead singer, as if he were The Real Thing.
The phrase, "I know, right?".
I've blogged about this before. I despise this phrase. In fact, the only thing I didn't like about the movie Juno (which, like all white people, I loved) was when Juno's best friend said, "I know, right?" (in response to Juno's father saying that he didn't think Paulie Bleeker "had it in him"). White males (even the straight ones) have also been known to say this, as frightening as that might seem.
Theme Parties.
Yes, it has already been pointed out that white people love 80's Nights, White Trash Parties, and Oscar Parties. But our love of "themes" doesn't end there. I don't think there is anything that gets white people more excited than the prospect of going to a Theme Party. This is especially evident during college, when many white people join sororities and fraternities, so that they can party with other white people. "Frat boys" (white terminology) will usually only slightly acknowledge a party's theme (i.e., by tossing a plastic lei around their neck or wearing sunglasses at a "luau"), while sorority girls will go to great lengths to wear the sluttiest outfit they can possibly find that still coincides with the theme. This behavior continues well into white people's twenties.
Tailgating.
I realize that people of all ethnicities and nationalities enjoy tailgating before the Big Game. I mean, what's not to like? There's beer, and food, and beer. However, white people take tailgating to an entirely different level. If the game starts at 11 a.m., then by God, white people will leave the house before dawn and be on their fourth mimosa by nine. White women will have cooked some kind of egg casserole and rolled up something (not resembling Mexican food) in a tortilla. It will probably involve cream cheese and ham and be sliced diagonally. I even know a few (white) people who start planning their football tailgates in April. It is a Big Deal.
Scrapbooking.
White women are SERIOUS about their scrapbooking. Back in the day (which is something white people love to say...in reference to, like, 1991), people would just put their pictures into an album, and, if they were really compulsive, they might write the date and where the picture was taken on the back of each photo. Today, however, (white) women are not satisfied with merely sliding their photos under those little plastic sleeves. Now, women will go to the "Scrapbooking Store" (personally, I've never been in one) and will spend literally hundreds of dollars on acid-free paper and pens, stickers, foam cut-outs (which, honestly, add so much), and Lord knows what else, all in an effort to create The Perfect Scrapbook. They will spend months making sure that each and every moment of a week spent at Seaside (or some other place where white people vacation) is documented perfectly, and then they will fool themselves into actually believing that anyone who looks at it will appreciate all of their hard work. It truly boggles the mind.
Other Stuff:
Pabst Blue Ribbon (we love to tell everyone how little we paid for it); quesadillas (we seem to think they are healthier than other meals, despite the fact that their main ingredient is cheese); whitewater rafting (makes us feel very "adventurous," especially when we go on a whitewater rafting date); and Jeopardy! (we love to watch it when other people are around, so they can see how knowledgeable we are).
I could go on, but I've probably done my share of Offending People for the day. But, before you get all verklempt and decide to leave a comment calling me a racist or a bitch, remember that I'm making fun of myself here, too! (Except for the scrapbooking one. I don't do that.) Feel free to join in on the fun!
Just like everyone else who reads it, I think this blog is both hilarious and TRUE (well, it's hilarious because it's true). But I also think it's a little...what's the word I'm looking for...condescending? I mean, after reading it, I kind of feel like I can't even go to the damn bathroom without being stereotypical and unoriginal. (White people like to sit on the commode when they take a shit. It makes them feel like they are a king or a queen, presiding over the rest of their remodeled home from their pretentious porcelain throne.)
Nevertheless, in true white-person fashion, I'm going to jump on the proverbial bandwagon, and instead of coming up with my own topic to blog about today, I'm going to add to The List. Keep in mind that I live in Tennessee, so some of these things may not be applicable to white people living in, say, Seattle. Kind of like how the Whole Foods one (on the other blog) doesn't apply to me, 'cause we don't have one here. Although we do have some place called Earth Fare, where my (white) friend Teeny spends, like, 94% of her time.
Drinking Games.
White people under the age of 30 like to be engaged in some activity while we're binge drinking. Drinking games provide that activity, while at the same time enhancing the drinking experience by making us drink even more than we would have otherwise. Now, there are two types of drinking games. The first category, Classic Drinking Games, includes the games that were designed with the specific purpose of getting (white) people drunk. These are games like Flip Cup, Beer Pong, Circle of Death, and Three Man. The second category, Hybrid Drinking Games, includes the games that started out as "regular" games (Uno, Jenga, Twister), but have been altered so as to require...you guessed it...drinking. As a white person, I must admit, I love playing Drinking Games.
The Obligatory "Bowling Night."
Sometimes (white) couples start to get bored with the Going Out Scene, mainly because they realize that going out with your significant other entirely defeats the purpose of Going Out, which is to meet, flirt with, and possibly sleep with, the opposite sex. Thus, unless you're playing Darts or Nudey Touch Screen (also known as Erotic Photo Hunt) at the bars, you tend to be Bored Out of Your Mind. To avoid this, a group of white couples will plan a "Bowling Night," which will allow them to still feel like they're "out on the town," but not feel bitter toward their single friends, who are having so much more fun. When they arrive at the bowling alley, they will immediately feel alternative and "old school," and they will agree that they should go to, like, Waffle House or IHOP afterward (because those places are old school too). Oh, and it's a given that white people will document Bowling Night (for which they are highly overdressed) by taking at least 37 pictures.
Cover Bands.
The author of Stuff White People Like has very correctly stated that white people go crazy for 80's nights. So, it goes without saying that we are absolutely cuckoo for 80's cover bands. We also enjoy (and will pay at least ten dollars to see) bands who cover music from other decades, such as the 70's and the 90's (e.g., Sublime cover bands, Dave Matthews cover bands, and, my personal favorite, Rolling Stones cover bands). When watching cover bands, white women will stand directly in front of the stage and fawn over the lead singer, as if he were The Real Thing.
The phrase, "I know, right?".
I've blogged about this before. I despise this phrase. In fact, the only thing I didn't like about the movie Juno (which, like all white people, I loved) was when Juno's best friend said, "I know, right?" (in response to Juno's father saying that he didn't think Paulie Bleeker "had it in him"). White males (even the straight ones) have also been known to say this, as frightening as that might seem.
Theme Parties.
Yes, it has already been pointed out that white people love 80's Nights, White Trash Parties, and Oscar Parties. But our love of "themes" doesn't end there. I don't think there is anything that gets white people more excited than the prospect of going to a Theme Party. This is especially evident during college, when many white people join sororities and fraternities, so that they can party with other white people. "Frat boys" (white terminology) will usually only slightly acknowledge a party's theme (i.e., by tossing a plastic lei around their neck or wearing sunglasses at a "luau"), while sorority girls will go to great lengths to wear the sluttiest outfit they can possibly find that still coincides with the theme. This behavior continues well into white people's twenties.
Tailgating.
I realize that people of all ethnicities and nationalities enjoy tailgating before the Big Game. I mean, what's not to like? There's beer, and food, and beer. However, white people take tailgating to an entirely different level. If the game starts at 11 a.m., then by God, white people will leave the house before dawn and be on their fourth mimosa by nine. White women will have cooked some kind of egg casserole and rolled up something (not resembling Mexican food) in a tortilla. It will probably involve cream cheese and ham and be sliced diagonally. I even know a few (white) people who start planning their football tailgates in April. It is a Big Deal.
Scrapbooking.
White women are SERIOUS about their scrapbooking. Back in the day (which is something white people love to say...in reference to, like, 1991), people would just put their pictures into an album, and, if they were really compulsive, they might write the date and where the picture was taken on the back of each photo. Today, however, (white) women are not satisfied with merely sliding their photos under those little plastic sleeves. Now, women will go to the "Scrapbooking Store" (personally, I've never been in one) and will spend literally hundreds of dollars on acid-free paper and pens, stickers, foam cut-outs (which, honestly, add so much), and Lord knows what else, all in an effort to create The Perfect Scrapbook. They will spend months making sure that each and every moment of a week spent at Seaside (or some other place where white people vacation) is documented perfectly, and then they will fool themselves into actually believing that anyone who looks at it will appreciate all of their hard work. It truly boggles the mind.
Other Stuff:
Pabst Blue Ribbon (we love to tell everyone how little we paid for it); quesadillas (we seem to think they are healthier than other meals, despite the fact that their main ingredient is cheese); whitewater rafting (makes us feel very "adventurous," especially when we go on a whitewater rafting date); and Jeopardy! (we love to watch it when other people are around, so they can see how knowledgeable we are).
I could go on, but I've probably done my share of Offending People for the day. But, before you get all verklempt and decide to leave a comment calling me a racist or a bitch, remember that I'm making fun of myself here, too! (Except for the scrapbooking one. I don't do that.) Feel free to join in on the fun!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Weekend Update (with Norm MacDonald)
Where to begin.
I guess I'll start off with an update on Quitting Smoking. Overall, I'm doing really well, thanks to this magical drug called Chantix, which totally does it FOR you. The quitting, I mean. Even if I try to cheat (and, believe me, I've tried once or twice), the cigarette tastes exactly like dirty gym socks and makes me gag. So, really, there's no "willpower" involved, and that works out well for me.
I know what you're thinking. But Candy, what will happen when you stop taking Chantix? Will you start smoking again? Well, hopefully not. At this point, I can see such a difference in how I feel (energy-wise), that I honestly don't see myself being a smoker again. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.
In other Candy News, Philly and I went to see a play (Moonlight and Magnolias) at the Oak Ridge Playhouse on Friday night, and I think I can safely say that I was the youngest person there, by, oh, about thirty years. Hell, even Mom felt youthful around that crowd, and she's old enough for the senior discount at most places. (We get a good laugh over this. And by "we," I mean "I.") She and I had planned on going to Big Ed's Pizza before the show (since it's right next door and all), but then I remembered that someone in Knoxville (can't remember who) had recently blogged about a place called the Homeland Cafe, so we tracked it down and ate there instead. That place is so neat, especially if you're a history-lover like me, because it's located in one of the original Oak Ridge "alphabet houses" that were built during the war. And the food is really good; Philly and I both got the Polish Sampler, which included stuffed cabbage, Kielbasa sausage, some kind of dumplings, and The Best Sauerkraut Philly Had Ever Tasted (also, The Only Sauerkraut Candy Had Ever Tasted). Thumbs up.
On Saturday, Philly and I both played in a (free) poker tournament, which was part of this (totally legal) league that we joined awhile back. First prize was a 52-inch TV, and--get this--Philly won the damn thing! Which was great for me too, 'cause now I get her old one. By far, the best moment in the tournament (for me, at least...Philly's was probably winning) was when the elderly lady sitting beside me (gray hair and all) went "all in" with pocket jacks and lost to a pair of queens. "Screw dem bitches, fuckin' whores," she said. I nearly fell out of my chair.
I watched the Academy Awards on Sunday night, and yet again cursed myself for not having an Oscar Party. I've been meaning to do this for, like, four years now, and I even have a clever idea for little goody bags for my attendees (just like they get at the real Oscar Parties), but every year I wimp out. Maybe I'll shoot for 2009.
Anyhoo, about the Oscars, I just want to say that I don't understand what all the hullabaloo is over that movie No Country for Old Men. I mean, I like eccentric movies, but this one was just damn weird. Slim and I went to see it a couple weeks ago, and, I swear to God, when it was over, the entire theater was like, "WHAT? That's it?"
I didn't get it.
So, I was pretty disappointed that it won Best Movie, although I did agree that the guy who won for Best Supporting Actor deserved that shit. I couldn't even go to sleep the night after I saw that movie, for fear that he was outside my apartment waiting to kill me with his creepy cattle-shooter thingie. Personally, I was rooting for Juno all night, and I was happy to see that it at least won Best Screenplay.
As for this week, it's actually turning out to be kind of eventful. I just found out yesterday that I have to be in Fredericksburg, Virginia on Friday morning, which means that I have to fly to D.C. on Thursday evening, stay in a hotel near the airport, and then hitch a ride with another attorney (who's also going to Fredericksburg) at the crack of dawn on Friday. I won't get back to Knoxville until 7:30 on Friday night, and I will then have to repack immediately, because...on Saturday morning, Slim and I are flying down to Clearwater for a few days! (Yay!)
Ahhhh, the life of a jetsetter (wannabe).
I guess I'll start off with an update on Quitting Smoking. Overall, I'm doing really well, thanks to this magical drug called Chantix, which totally does it FOR you. The quitting, I mean. Even if I try to cheat (and, believe me, I've tried once or twice), the cigarette tastes exactly like dirty gym socks and makes me gag. So, really, there's no "willpower" involved, and that works out well for me.
I know what you're thinking. But Candy, what will happen when you stop taking Chantix? Will you start smoking again? Well, hopefully not. At this point, I can see such a difference in how I feel (energy-wise), that I honestly don't see myself being a smoker again. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.
In other Candy News, Philly and I went to see a play (Moonlight and Magnolias) at the Oak Ridge Playhouse on Friday night, and I think I can safely say that I was the youngest person there, by, oh, about thirty years. Hell, even Mom felt youthful around that crowd, and she's old enough for the senior discount at most places. (We get a good laugh over this. And by "we," I mean "I.") She and I had planned on going to Big Ed's Pizza before the show (since it's right next door and all), but then I remembered that someone in Knoxville (can't remember who) had recently blogged about a place called the Homeland Cafe, so we tracked it down and ate there instead. That place is so neat, especially if you're a history-lover like me, because it's located in one of the original Oak Ridge "alphabet houses" that were built during the war. And the food is really good; Philly and I both got the Polish Sampler, which included stuffed cabbage, Kielbasa sausage, some kind of dumplings, and The Best Sauerkraut Philly Had Ever Tasted (also, The Only Sauerkraut Candy Had Ever Tasted). Thumbs up.
On Saturday, Philly and I both played in a (free) poker tournament, which was part of this (totally legal) league that we joined awhile back. First prize was a 52-inch TV, and--get this--Philly won the damn thing! Which was great for me too, 'cause now I get her old one. By far, the best moment in the tournament (for me, at least...Philly's was probably winning) was when the elderly lady sitting beside me (gray hair and all) went "all in" with pocket jacks and lost to a pair of queens. "Screw dem bitches, fuckin' whores," she said. I nearly fell out of my chair.
I watched the Academy Awards on Sunday night, and yet again cursed myself for not having an Oscar Party. I've been meaning to do this for, like, four years now, and I even have a clever idea for little goody bags for my attendees (just like they get at the real Oscar Parties), but every year I wimp out. Maybe I'll shoot for 2009.
Anyhoo, about the Oscars, I just want to say that I don't understand what all the hullabaloo is over that movie No Country for Old Men. I mean, I like eccentric movies, but this one was just damn weird. Slim and I went to see it a couple weeks ago, and, I swear to God, when it was over, the entire theater was like, "WHAT? That's it?"
I didn't get it.
So, I was pretty disappointed that it won Best Movie, although I did agree that the guy who won for Best Supporting Actor deserved that shit. I couldn't even go to sleep the night after I saw that movie, for fear that he was outside my apartment waiting to kill me with his creepy cattle-shooter thingie. Personally, I was rooting for Juno all night, and I was happy to see that it at least won Best Screenplay.
As for this week, it's actually turning out to be kind of eventful. I just found out yesterday that I have to be in Fredericksburg, Virginia on Friday morning, which means that I have to fly to D.C. on Thursday evening, stay in a hotel near the airport, and then hitch a ride with another attorney (who's also going to Fredericksburg) at the crack of dawn on Friday. I won't get back to Knoxville until 7:30 on Friday night, and I will then have to repack immediately, because...on Saturday morning, Slim and I are flying down to Clearwater for a few days! (Yay!)
Ahhhh, the life of a jetsetter (wannabe).
Friday, February 22, 2008
Being Careful
Having never given birth to anyone (yet), I have no idea what it's like to be a parent. I have no idea what this so-called "motherly love" is, and I certainly don't know what it's like to constantly worry about the well-being of another person. I mean, obviously I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone I love (or to anyone I hate, for that matter), but I generally don't go around thinking "what if" [insert bad things].
What this means is that, for the most part, you will rarely hear the words "Be Careful" come out of my mouth. Maybe (maybe) I'll say them when someone's walking out to their car after, like, six or seven beers at Toddy's. Maybe. (KIDDING, ociffer.) But that's about it.
My parents, on the other hand, LOVE these two words. "Be careful," they always say to me, as I walk out the door with my to-go beer (on my way to work or something). When I lived at home (merely five months ago), and I would leave to go to the frigging gas station, which is 800 feet down the road (and, yes, I would drive there), my parents would tell me to be careful. Heading out for a night on the town? I would definitely hear those words before the door shut behind me. Hell, even the dog would give me two little nods from the yard as I pulled out of the driveway. (He's deaf, hence the gesturing.)
And I love it, really I do. I like having people who care about me so much.
But seriously. I'm 25 years old. Is there ever going to be a point in my life when my parents finally say to themselves, "Okay, I think we got the point across. She's gonna be careful this time."
Honestly, I don't think so. And who am I kidding...at this point, they're not saying these words with the actual intent that I be more careful than I would have been otherwise. It just makes them feel better to know that they've said them. Covering the bases.
So, parents, I just want you to know that, despite all of the eye-rolling, I really do appreciate you guys telling me to be careful. And I also appreciate you bringing on board the lady who cleans my office. I don't think I've left the building once in the afternoon without her telling me the magic words.
And to give you a little more peace of mind, I hereby promise to always be careful in my endeavors. (Except for my whispers, which will be fucking careless, so help me God.) But, you are still permitted to remind me, if it makes you feel better.
Take care (because you know I will),
Candy
What this means is that, for the most part, you will rarely hear the words "Be Careful" come out of my mouth. Maybe (maybe) I'll say them when someone's walking out to their car after, like, six or seven beers at Toddy's. Maybe. (KIDDING, ociffer.) But that's about it.
My parents, on the other hand, LOVE these two words. "Be careful," they always say to me, as I walk out the door with my to-go beer (on my way to work or something). When I lived at home (merely five months ago), and I would leave to go to the frigging gas station, which is 800 feet down the road (and, yes, I would drive there), my parents would tell me to be careful. Heading out for a night on the town? I would definitely hear those words before the door shut behind me. Hell, even the dog would give me two little nods from the yard as I pulled out of the driveway. (He's deaf, hence the gesturing.)
And I love it, really I do. I like having people who care about me so much.
But seriously. I'm 25 years old. Is there ever going to be a point in my life when my parents finally say to themselves, "Okay, I think we got the point across. She's gonna be careful this time."
Honestly, I don't think so. And who am I kidding...at this point, they're not saying these words with the actual intent that I be more careful than I would have been otherwise. It just makes them feel better to know that they've said them. Covering the bases.
So, parents, I just want you to know that, despite all of the eye-rolling, I really do appreciate you guys telling me to be careful. And I also appreciate you bringing on board the lady who cleans my office. I don't think I've left the building once in the afternoon without her telling me the magic words.
And to give you a little more peace of mind, I hereby promise to always be careful in my endeavors. (Except for my whispers, which will be fucking careless, so help me God.) But, you are still permitted to remind me, if it makes you feel better.
Take care (because you know I will),
Candy
This Week, I Recommend...
I'm not one of those girls who insists that all of her "products" (for the face, body, and hair) come from the salon. Hell, I don't even insist that they come from the department store. Nope, I'm over at the Kmart (yes, "the" Kmart) buying Suave, Dial, and CoverGirl. And as for moisturizer, well, I usually just slap some Jergens on my face and call it a day. Hell, it worked for Mom in the '80s. Works for me, now.
However.
A few weeks back, I went to Natural Alternatives (An Aveda SalonSpa Store!) for a facial. I don't normally pamper myself like that (I also don't normally use the word "pamper"), but I had recently bought this coupon-thingie through a friend, and it entailed me getting four separate visits to the "salonspa" for only $50. (!!!) Visit 1 was a facial; 2 was a haircut; 3 was a manicure; and 4 was a mini-massage.
Anyhoo, there I was, getting my facial, and let me tell you: If you have never had one of those, you need to put that on your to-do list ASAP. The girl who did mine kept putting these warm towels on my face and pressing down, and as simple as that sounds, it was heavenly. The only part that confused me was when she told me that she was going to let me sniff three different scents and that I should tell her which one I liked best. First of all, she "smeared" the scents on the bridge of my nose, kind of between my eyes, which made me think, "Shouldn't you be smearing these under my nose?" And, honestly, to me, they all smelled exactly the same. I was totally convinced that she was fucking with me. So I just said, "Um, the first one was good," and hoped for the best.
After she'd done all of the exfoliating and steaming and whatever else they do during a facial, the girl (ever-so gently) rubbed some moisturizer on my face, and I immediately fell in love with that stuff. Not only did it smell wonderful (like lavender), but it also made my face feel soooo soft. I knew I would have to buy some.
'Course, when the facial was finished and I went out to the "store" portion of the "salonspa" (love that "word"), I found out why I liked that moisturizer so much...a regular-sized bottle was $30! So, I settled for the travel-sized one, which was only $7, and honestly, it takes such a small squirt of this stuff to moisturize my entire face, that this bottle will probably last at least a month or two. However, if you don't mind paying the $30, you can go here and order some.
However.
A few weeks back, I went to Natural Alternatives (An Aveda SalonSpa Store!) for a facial. I don't normally pamper myself like that (I also don't normally use the word "pamper"), but I had recently bought this coupon-thingie through a friend, and it entailed me getting four separate visits to the "salonspa" for only $50. (!!!) Visit 1 was a facial; 2 was a haircut; 3 was a manicure; and 4 was a mini-massage.
Anyhoo, there I was, getting my facial, and let me tell you: If you have never had one of those, you need to put that on your to-do list ASAP. The girl who did mine kept putting these warm towels on my face and pressing down, and as simple as that sounds, it was heavenly. The only part that confused me was when she told me that she was going to let me sniff three different scents and that I should tell her which one I liked best. First of all, she "smeared" the scents on the bridge of my nose, kind of between my eyes, which made me think, "Shouldn't you be smearing these under my nose?" And, honestly, to me, they all smelled exactly the same. I was totally convinced that she was fucking with me. So I just said, "Um, the first one was good," and hoped for the best.
After she'd done all of the exfoliating and steaming and whatever else they do during a facial, the girl (ever-so gently) rubbed some moisturizer on my face, and I immediately fell in love with that stuff. Not only did it smell wonderful (like lavender), but it also made my face feel soooo soft. I knew I would have to buy some.
'Course, when the facial was finished and I went out to the "store" portion of the "salonspa" (love that "word"), I found out why I liked that moisturizer so much...a regular-sized bottle was $30! So, I settled for the travel-sized one, which was only $7, and honestly, it takes such a small squirt of this stuff to moisturize my entire face, that this bottle will probably last at least a month or two. However, if you don't mind paying the $30, you can go here and order some.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Polling the Audience
I know that you guys would probably like to read a little more about my Dating Life, and believe me, I would love to blog about it. The problem is, the "characters" that I would be writing about are generally the very ones who read this crap religiously, and that makes things kind of...awkward for me. Like, when I'm dating two or three guys at the same time, and they don't know about each other. I can't very well write about any of them without getting found out, so I generally just avoid the topic completely.
Today, however, I'm going to write about a little "dating situation" that I'm dealing with, and if it makes anyone (you know who you are) uncomfortable, then you'll just have to get over it.
Remember "Slim," the guy I dated for a few months last year? (He was also known as "Cute Boy," before he earned a "real" fake name.) Well, he and I have been talking again and "seeing what might happen" (his words, not mine) for the past few weeks, and, despite a few bumps in the road, I've been pretty happy with it (him).
Until last night.
You see, Slim is going on a cruise in April, with a big group of people, some of whom are extended family and some of whom aren't. He's been talking about this cruise for a year now, and even though I heard all about it while we were dating (the first time), we broke up before he made his reservations, so, naturally, I wasn't invited.
Now, I've never been on a cruise before, but from what I've seen in pictures, the rooms that you stay in are TINY. Am I right? And it looks like the majority of them are doubles, meaning that they sleep two people, and two people only. Well, when Slim and I started talking a few weeks ago, I asked him who he'd be rooming with on the cruise. His response was, "some guy." Silly me didn't ask for the guy's name.
Turns out...that wasn't so much "the truth." Slim is actually rooming with a GIRL (or, "female," as he put it last night, as if using a more scientific term would make me any less pissed off..."Oh, a female? Well, that sounds innocent enough..."), and, to make matters worse, he's known about this all along. Which means: a) he lied about it; and b) he LIED about it.
I realize that, yes, he did break down and tell me the truth (which he's probably regretting right this very minute), but let's face it...I would have found out eventually, anyway. (Don't we always?) Also, this girl isn't someone he actually knows (he says that he was just "put" with her by the person in charge of The Group), but, really, that doesn't make me feel any better about it.
And of course, he claims that he's going to have the rooms rearranged, but I'm not sure that's even possible at this point (most of the people in The Group are couples), and, furthermore, even if he tells me that he has a new roommate...well...will I really believe him?
Sticky situation, huh.
What would you do?
Today, however, I'm going to write about a little "dating situation" that I'm dealing with, and if it makes anyone (you know who you are) uncomfortable, then you'll just have to get over it.
Remember "Slim," the guy I dated for a few months last year? (He was also known as "Cute Boy," before he earned a "real" fake name.) Well, he and I have been talking again and "seeing what might happen" (his words, not mine) for the past few weeks, and, despite a few bumps in the road, I've been pretty happy with it (him).
Until last night.
You see, Slim is going on a cruise in April, with a big group of people, some of whom are extended family and some of whom aren't. He's been talking about this cruise for a year now, and even though I heard all about it while we were dating (the first time), we broke up before he made his reservations, so, naturally, I wasn't invited.
Now, I've never been on a cruise before, but from what I've seen in pictures, the rooms that you stay in are TINY. Am I right? And it looks like the majority of them are doubles, meaning that they sleep two people, and two people only. Well, when Slim and I started talking a few weeks ago, I asked him who he'd be rooming with on the cruise. His response was, "some guy." Silly me didn't ask for the guy's name.
Turns out...that wasn't so much "the truth." Slim is actually rooming with a GIRL (or, "female," as he put it last night, as if using a more scientific term would make me any less pissed off..."Oh, a female? Well, that sounds innocent enough..."), and, to make matters worse, he's known about this all along. Which means: a) he lied about it; and b) he LIED about it.
I realize that, yes, he did break down and tell me the truth (which he's probably regretting right this very minute), but let's face it...I would have found out eventually, anyway. (Don't we always?) Also, this girl isn't someone he actually knows (he says that he was just "put" with her by the person in charge of The Group), but, really, that doesn't make me feel any better about it.
And of course, he claims that he's going to have the rooms rearranged, but I'm not sure that's even possible at this point (most of the people in The Group are couples), and, furthermore, even if he tells me that he has a new roommate...well...will I really believe him?
Sticky situation, huh.
What would you do?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I Wish I Knew How to Quit You.
That's what I said to a cigarette last night. In a moment of weakness. (By which I mean, "moment after two glasses of wine.") And then I smoked that damn cigarette, telling myself the whole time that it was just a clove cigarette, so it didn't really count, and besides which, all the cool kids were doing it, and that's always a good gauge of the "rightness" of a choice. Naturally, I felt guilty afterward. (But not so guilty that I didn't have one more.)
How NOT to Describe a Job Interview
Actual conversation with Slim (yes, the same Slim from last year, if you can remember my blog from that long ago...if not, I'll explain soon), about a possible upcoming job interview:
Candy: Don't be surprised if you're interviewed by two or three people at once. It can be a little intimidating. I know, because that's how it was when I interviewed with The Firm.
Slim: Really?
Candy: Yeah, and it was three men. Three guys on one girl. Very rough.
Slim: (Looking rather amused.)
Candy: Wait! I mean it was three guys INTERVIEWING one girl. Not "on" one girl.
Slim: Right, right. Now I know why you got the job.
Errrr.
Candy: Don't be surprised if you're interviewed by two or three people at once. It can be a little intimidating. I know, because that's how it was when I interviewed with The Firm.
Slim: Really?
Candy: Yeah, and it was three men. Three guys on one girl. Very rough.
Slim: (Looking rather amused.)
Candy: Wait! I mean it was three guys INTERVIEWING one girl. Not "on" one girl.
Slim: Right, right. Now I know why you got the job.
Errrr.
Friday, February 15, 2008
This Week on The Today Show
There was a story on The Today Show this morning called "The Five Cheapest Places to Rent in America." Knoxville was the fourth city mentioned, right after Wichita, Oklahoma City, and Tulsa. (I noticed a bit of a pattern there.) Apparently (according to the Today Show contributor), Knoxville is a great place to live because it's the home of Davy Crockett's famous rifle, "Old Betsy." (Who knew.)* I know that's why I've stuck around. Mountains, schmountains.
*Actually, this is incorrect. See comments to this post.
Anyhoo, based on this story, I've decided to write a letter to my landlord, which I will include with next month's rent.
Dear Candy's Landlord:
According to Today, Knoxville is one of the cheapest places in America to rent apartments (or, in my case, condo's). Please act accordingly, by abandoning your aforementioned plan to raise my rent in September. Your cooperation is appreciated in advance.
Sincerely,
Your Loving Tenant
Think she'll buy it?
In other Today Show news, did anyone see that story yesterday about the (now former) mayor in Texas, whose neighbors asked her to watch their dog while they were gone for a few days? She decided that the dog was being neglected because it was sick and flea-ridden, so she took it to her house and told the neighbors that it had died. Now the neighbors are suing her to get the dog back. She is adamant, however, that the dog belongs to her now, and she even resigned from office over the whole thing. Meredith interviewed all of them yesterday, and the interview was so funny to watch, because it was obvious that Meredith thought the woman who took the dog was nuts. I just want to know who the hell elected this woman mayor.
A similar thing happened to me in middle school. My neighbors went on vacation and asked me to watch their iguana for them, and when they got back, I told them it had died. Except that time, it really had.
And I consequently resigned from Student Council.
*Actually, this is incorrect. See comments to this post.
Anyhoo, based on this story, I've decided to write a letter to my landlord, which I will include with next month's rent.
Dear Candy's Landlord:
According to Today, Knoxville is one of the cheapest places in America to rent apartments (or, in my case, condo's). Please act accordingly, by abandoning your aforementioned plan to raise my rent in September. Your cooperation is appreciated in advance.
Sincerely,
Your Loving Tenant
Think she'll buy it?
In other Today Show news, did anyone see that story yesterday about the (now former) mayor in Texas, whose neighbors asked her to watch their dog while they were gone for a few days? She decided that the dog was being neglected because it was sick and flea-ridden, so she took it to her house and told the neighbors that it had died. Now the neighbors are suing her to get the dog back. She is adamant, however, that the dog belongs to her now, and she even resigned from office over the whole thing. Meredith interviewed all of them yesterday, and the interview was so funny to watch, because it was obvious that Meredith thought the woman who took the dog was nuts. I just want to know who the hell elected this woman mayor.
A similar thing happened to me in middle school. My neighbors went on vacation and asked me to watch their iguana for them, and when they got back, I told them it had died. Except that time, it really had.
And I consequently resigned from Student Council.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Sexual Harassment
Given that it's the most romantic day of the year, I figured, what better to write about than sexual harassment?
As usual, I'm reading cases today at work, and today's topic is Employment Practice Liability Insurance, which is insurance that companies get to protect themselves from claims of racial discrimination, sexual harassment, and the like. Right now I'm reading a case about a woman who sued her employer, claiming sexual harassment, and the facts state the following:
(Note: "Cote" is the woman who was suing; "Bildman" is some boss-type; and "Astra" is the name of the company where everyone worked.)
"Cote made [her attorney] a list containing the names of eleven women and one man. The twelve individuals were people about whom she had heard rumors of 'incidents of unethical behavior.' (Sounds like the "one man" was getting around.) Those incidents included the one involving the woman whom Bildman was chasing, and others involving functions at which female employees of Astra, according to Cote, would get drunk and sleep with male Astra managers and executives. (No sexual harassment there.) Cote witnessed one incident in which an employee was 'sitting on a top manager's lap tucking a napkin into his pants, cutting up his food' and they were 'feeling each other up.' (Maybe this was part of her job description.) Another incident inovlved a district manager who was drunk and grabbed a woman at a meeting. Cote had heard rumors that one of the women on the list was getting $30,000 quarterly installments because, Cote thought, 'something bad happened and she was getting paid off' (Sounds fair to me.); Cote believed that the 'something bad' was that someone at Astra had sexually harassed her. While she was still employed by Astra, Cote and other female employees would have frequent group discussions to share their 'shock' over these incidents. (And by "shock," she meant "pleasure.") Cote was unsure whether certain sexual relationships between Astra management and employees were consensual or nonconsensual." (Clearly irrelevant.)
The facts go on to describe another situation, in which an African-American female employee slept with one of the managers, and the manager subsequently referred to the employee on the company's voicemail system as his "little chocolate bunny."
Now this is the kinda place where I see myself working. I bet the Christmas parties are bitchin'.
As usual, I'm reading cases today at work, and today's topic is Employment Practice Liability Insurance, which is insurance that companies get to protect themselves from claims of racial discrimination, sexual harassment, and the like. Right now I'm reading a case about a woman who sued her employer, claiming sexual harassment, and the facts state the following:
(Note: "Cote" is the woman who was suing; "Bildman" is some boss-type; and "Astra" is the name of the company where everyone worked.)
"Cote made [her attorney] a list containing the names of eleven women and one man. The twelve individuals were people about whom she had heard rumors of 'incidents of unethical behavior.' (Sounds like the "one man" was getting around.) Those incidents included the one involving the woman whom Bildman was chasing, and others involving functions at which female employees of Astra, according to Cote, would get drunk and sleep with male Astra managers and executives. (No sexual harassment there.) Cote witnessed one incident in which an employee was 'sitting on a top manager's lap tucking a napkin into his pants, cutting up his food' and they were 'feeling each other up.' (Maybe this was part of her job description.) Another incident inovlved a district manager who was drunk and grabbed a woman at a meeting. Cote had heard rumors that one of the women on the list was getting $30,000 quarterly installments because, Cote thought, 'something bad happened and she was getting paid off' (Sounds fair to me.); Cote believed that the 'something bad' was that someone at Astra had sexually harassed her. While she was still employed by Astra, Cote and other female employees would have frequent group discussions to share their 'shock' over these incidents. (And by "shock," she meant "pleasure.") Cote was unsure whether certain sexual relationships between Astra management and employees were consensual or nonconsensual." (Clearly irrelevant.)
The facts go on to describe another situation, in which an African-American female employee slept with one of the managers, and the manager subsequently referred to the employee on the company's voicemail system as his "little chocolate bunny."
Now this is the kinda place where I see myself working. I bet the Christmas parties are bitchin'.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Side Effects
I haven't written in a few days, because I've been busy dealing with the side effects of Chantix. Which aren't bad, really, but are definitely noticeable. (Well, for me they are noticeable...maybe other people haven't had the same experience.)
First, I've noticed that I'm a little more tired than usual. On both Saturday and Sunday, for instance, I slept until 3:00 p.m. Granted, I stayed up late on Friday and Saturday nights (drinking and trying to sneak in those last few ciggies), but still, I usually can only sleep until about noon. Also, I've noticed that, even when I feel like I've gotten a pretty decent night's sleep, I'm still very tired at work. I have actually considered curling up under my desk with a blanket and hoping no one finds me.
Second, as tired as I am, when I lie down and try to go to sleep, I feel restless. It's like, my brain wants to be asleep, but my body just can't quite get comfortable. This frustrates me, as my usual time between lying down and falling asleep is about forty-two seconds. If anyone has experienced this kind of problem and has found ways to remedy it (besides taking sleeping pills...because, as I said, I'm drowsy enough already), then I am open to suggestions.
Third, when I finally do fall asleep, I have some WEIRD dreams. There's been some talk in the news lately about Chantix making people have nightmares, so I was a little worried about that when I started taking it, but so far I haven't experienced any "bad" dreams. I did, however, dream one night that I was talking to a cat about acupuncture. See, the cat had been using acupuncture to kill other cats (by making them bleed to death), and I had been trying to save some of the ones who weren't quite dead. I tried to explain to the Assassin Kitty that using acupuncture to kill other cats was not okay, and also that I really didn't appreciate him leaving the carcasses in my living room.
And that's just one of the many wild dreams I've had. 'Course, this could be a side effect of all the acid I've been taking in place of smoking cigarettes. (Kidding. After my last post, I feel like I should clarify that.)
And then there's the "side effect" (which is really the "main effect," I guess) of Chantix, which is that I'm not craving cigarettes. Well, not so much. I've talked to several people who said that they were able to quit smoking during their first week on it, because cigarettes began tasting "like ass" to them. Unfortunately, this did not happen for me. (Which makes me wonder if I have, like, a Super Addiction.) So, I continued smoking for my entire first week on Chantix, and I am attempting to quit now, during my second week. The dosage doubles from the first week to the second week, so I'm hopeful.
Nevertheless, I'm hating every person I see who has a cigarette in their hand. I wish they'd quit taunting me.
First, I've noticed that I'm a little more tired than usual. On both Saturday and Sunday, for instance, I slept until 3:00 p.m. Granted, I stayed up late on Friday and Saturday nights (drinking and trying to sneak in those last few ciggies), but still, I usually can only sleep until about noon. Also, I've noticed that, even when I feel like I've gotten a pretty decent night's sleep, I'm still very tired at work. I have actually considered curling up under my desk with a blanket and hoping no one finds me.
Second, as tired as I am, when I lie down and try to go to sleep, I feel restless. It's like, my brain wants to be asleep, but my body just can't quite get comfortable. This frustrates me, as my usual time between lying down and falling asleep is about forty-two seconds. If anyone has experienced this kind of problem and has found ways to remedy it (besides taking sleeping pills...because, as I said, I'm drowsy enough already), then I am open to suggestions.
Third, when I finally do fall asleep, I have some WEIRD dreams. There's been some talk in the news lately about Chantix making people have nightmares, so I was a little worried about that when I started taking it, but so far I haven't experienced any "bad" dreams. I did, however, dream one night that I was talking to a cat about acupuncture. See, the cat had been using acupuncture to kill other cats (by making them bleed to death), and I had been trying to save some of the ones who weren't quite dead. I tried to explain to the Assassin Kitty that using acupuncture to kill other cats was not okay, and also that I really didn't appreciate him leaving the carcasses in my living room.
And that's just one of the many wild dreams I've had. 'Course, this could be a side effect of all the acid I've been taking in place of smoking cigarettes. (Kidding. After my last post, I feel like I should clarify that.)
And then there's the "side effect" (which is really the "main effect," I guess) of Chantix, which is that I'm not craving cigarettes. Well, not so much. I've talked to several people who said that they were able to quit smoking during their first week on it, because cigarettes began tasting "like ass" to them. Unfortunately, this did not happen for me. (Which makes me wonder if I have, like, a Super Addiction.) So, I continued smoking for my entire first week on Chantix, and I am attempting to quit now, during my second week. The dosage doubles from the first week to the second week, so I'm hopeful.
Nevertheless, I'm hating every person I see who has a cigarette in their hand. I wish they'd quit taunting me.
Friday, February 08, 2008
College Kids Gone Wild
When I was a junior in college, I lived in an apartment complex that I lovingly referred to as "Melrose Place on Acid." The apartments in this building were mostly occupied by college students, and the students who lived there all had Entirely Too Much Money. (From Mommy and Daddy, of course.) All this disposable income had to go somewhere, and from what I could see, most of it went toward liquor, weed, Adderall, and Xanax.
I'm not judging, just telling it like it was.
Since everyone was so fucked up all the time (drunk, high, what-have-you), nights at Melrose Place on Acid tended to be a little interesting. Actually, the days at MPOA were pretty interesting too.
One of my favorite residents, a guy who lived down the hall, was known to the entire building (or maybe the entire world) as "Slow James." No, he wasn't mentally challenged; he was just FUCKED UP. All the time. I mean, seriously, how high do you have to be (all the time) for people to begin referring to you as "Slow [Insert Name]"? Pretty high, I would imagine.
Anyhoo, Slow James was as nice as he could be, and he was always inviting my roommate Cuffy and me over to his apartment. I actually went a few times, mainly because it was so gawd-dang entertaining to be there, but I could never really relax, because I was always positive that the next knock at the door was going to be the police. Or, someone coming to kill us.
The residents of MPOA were always engaging in ill-advised hook-ups. I remember one particularly drunken night, when one of the residents had had a party or something, and I was emailing Philly about it the next day. Without even thinking twice, I wrote that my neighbor Buffy had gotten wasted and "accidentally 69'd Bif (another neighbor)." (I hate it when that happens.) Philly was probably thrilled to hear about these shenanigans.
And speaking of my family members, the first (and only) time that I brought my sister over to my apartment, the following things happened: (Keep in mind that she was only there for about 10 minutes.)
1. A guy, one whom I had never seen before, walked into my apartment (without knocking), looked at me, and said, "Who the hell are you?" "I live here," I said, "who the hell are YOU?" "Oh, I'm a friend of your roommate," he responded. "We were hanging out here earlier, but we went downstairs to Kip's apartment, and now I'm just coming up here to grab some bagels." Given that it was 9:00 p.m. and this dude was craving bagels, I'd venture to say that there was some marijuana being smoked down at ole Kip's.
2. As soon as Bagel Boy left, Kip walked in (without knocking), carrying our neighbor Muffy's cat, Janice. See, Muffy (who lived upstairs with Buffy) was really close to my roommate, Cuffy, and for some reason (unknown to me), Muffy was always bringing Janice down to stay at our apartment. Actually, Muffy stayed at our apartment a lot as well, although I'm not really sure why, considering that she lived upstairs. Anyhoo, Kip walked in with Janice and announced to my sister and me that Janice had been out "wandering the halls" of the apartment building. I assumed that she had gotten out when everyone left our apartment to go down to Kip's. Anyhoo, Kip got whatever he had come for (cream cheese?), left Janice with us, and headed back to his apartment.
3. Cuffy's friend Tiffy (not a resident of MPOA) walked in (without knocking) and asked where she could find Cuffy. I directed her to Kip's. At this point, my sister looked at me and said, "Is this how it always is here?" "Pretty much," I responded.
During the year that I lived at MPOA, my roommate and I threw several keg parties, the most infamous of which was our Valentine's Day Party. Although much of the night is a blur (there were lots of red jello shots involved), I do remember a few key things, such as:
1. People puking off the balcony;
2. People wanting to try to "make it" from the balcony to the pool (thankfully, no one tried);
3. Cuffy inviting several people to the party and then leaving me with an apartment full of people I didn't know;
4. Allowing a friend of mine to hook up in Cuffy's bed; and
5. The next morning, when Cuffy returned from wherever she had gone, swearing that no one had slept in her bed.
Hehe.
Of course, some of my favorite nights at MPOA were the ones that we didn't plan, like the night we invited about ten people over after the bars closed and went night swimming (because it's always a good idea to go swimming drunk), or the night of the Alabama football game (which we lost), when a certain unnamed UT football player (who now plays in the NFL) showed up at our door with his two friends. I'm not really sure why, but they were wearing leather jackets, tight underwear, and guitars. And nothing else. I have pictures to prove it.
That year was, without a doubt, the craziest year of my life, and when I think about how different things are now, I definitely get a little sentimental. I mean, I know my life will never be like that again. On the other hand, I'll always have the memories. And the pictures to prove it.
I'm not judging, just telling it like it was.
Since everyone was so fucked up all the time (drunk, high, what-have-you), nights at Melrose Place on Acid tended to be a little interesting. Actually, the days at MPOA were pretty interesting too.
One of my favorite residents, a guy who lived down the hall, was known to the entire building (or maybe the entire world) as "Slow James." No, he wasn't mentally challenged; he was just FUCKED UP. All the time. I mean, seriously, how high do you have to be (all the time) for people to begin referring to you as "Slow [Insert Name]"? Pretty high, I would imagine.
Anyhoo, Slow James was as nice as he could be, and he was always inviting my roommate Cuffy and me over to his apartment. I actually went a few times, mainly because it was so gawd-dang entertaining to be there, but I could never really relax, because I was always positive that the next knock at the door was going to be the police. Or, someone coming to kill us.
The residents of MPOA were always engaging in ill-advised hook-ups. I remember one particularly drunken night, when one of the residents had had a party or something, and I was emailing Philly about it the next day. Without even thinking twice, I wrote that my neighbor Buffy had gotten wasted and "accidentally 69'd Bif (another neighbor)." (I hate it when that happens.) Philly was probably thrilled to hear about these shenanigans.
And speaking of my family members, the first (and only) time that I brought my sister over to my apartment, the following things happened: (Keep in mind that she was only there for about 10 minutes.)
1. A guy, one whom I had never seen before, walked into my apartment (without knocking), looked at me, and said, "Who the hell are you?" "I live here," I said, "who the hell are YOU?" "Oh, I'm a friend of your roommate," he responded. "We were hanging out here earlier, but we went downstairs to Kip's apartment, and now I'm just coming up here to grab some bagels." Given that it was 9:00 p.m. and this dude was craving bagels, I'd venture to say that there was some marijuana being smoked down at ole Kip's.
2. As soon as Bagel Boy left, Kip walked in (without knocking), carrying our neighbor Muffy's cat, Janice. See, Muffy (who lived upstairs with Buffy) was really close to my roommate, Cuffy, and for some reason (unknown to me), Muffy was always bringing Janice down to stay at our apartment. Actually, Muffy stayed at our apartment a lot as well, although I'm not really sure why, considering that she lived upstairs. Anyhoo, Kip walked in with Janice and announced to my sister and me that Janice had been out "wandering the halls" of the apartment building. I assumed that she had gotten out when everyone left our apartment to go down to Kip's. Anyhoo, Kip got whatever he had come for (cream cheese?), left Janice with us, and headed back to his apartment.
3. Cuffy's friend Tiffy (not a resident of MPOA) walked in (without knocking) and asked where she could find Cuffy. I directed her to Kip's. At this point, my sister looked at me and said, "Is this how it always is here?" "Pretty much," I responded.
During the year that I lived at MPOA, my roommate and I threw several keg parties, the most infamous of which was our Valentine's Day Party. Although much of the night is a blur (there were lots of red jello shots involved), I do remember a few key things, such as:
1. People puking off the balcony;
2. People wanting to try to "make it" from the balcony to the pool (thankfully, no one tried);
3. Cuffy inviting several people to the party and then leaving me with an apartment full of people I didn't know;
4. Allowing a friend of mine to hook up in Cuffy's bed; and
5. The next morning, when Cuffy returned from wherever she had gone, swearing that no one had slept in her bed.
Hehe.
Of course, some of my favorite nights at MPOA were the ones that we didn't plan, like the night we invited about ten people over after the bars closed and went night swimming (because it's always a good idea to go swimming drunk), or the night of the Alabama football game (which we lost), when a certain unnamed UT football player (who now plays in the NFL) showed up at our door with his two friends. I'm not really sure why, but they were wearing leather jackets, tight underwear, and guitars. And nothing else. I have pictures to prove it.
That year was, without a doubt, the craziest year of my life, and when I think about how different things are now, I definitely get a little sentimental. I mean, I know my life will never be like that again. On the other hand, I'll always have the memories. And the pictures to prove it.
This Week, I Recommend...
I've been reading Skirt! Magazine for a few months now, and most of the time I find it to be pretty enjoyable. This month's issue is the best one yet. It's February, so the articles are all about love and relationships (and break-ups), and they are really good. Reading them was like going to therapy.
It's a free magazine, so pick one up!
It's a free magazine, so pick one up!
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Sigh.
Out of curiosity, I Googled "trashiest baby names." I'll give you three guesses as to which name is the reigning champ.
I'd like to thank the Academy, Jesus, and, of course, good ole Mom and Dad, without whom I wouldn't have the World's Trashiest Name.
I'd also like to thank all the Tiffany's, Brandy's, Misty's, and Chastity's. I mean, as we all know, it was an honor just to be nominated.
I'll see y'all at the strip club later.
I'd like to thank the Academy, Jesus, and, of course, good ole Mom and Dad, without whom I wouldn't have the World's Trashiest Name.
I'd also like to thank all the Tiffany's, Brandy's, Misty's, and Chastity's. I mean, as we all know, it was an honor just to be nominated.
I'll see y'all at the strip club later.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Big, Fat, Super Tuesday
Yesterday was a big day for me. Not big in the sense that something earth-shattering happened to me (I'm pregnant! And single! JUST KIDDING.), but big in the sense that it was much more eventful than, say, a typical Tuesday.
First, I went to the doctor to ask about going on Chantix. For those of you who have been living in a cave for the past year, Chantix is a drug that (supposedly) helps people quit smoking. I've known several people who have taken it and been successful, and because I know that I lack the willpower to quit on my own, I've decided to try it. The truth is, I don't really want to quit smoking. I love smoking. (And, yes, I know that sounds terrible.) Nevertheless, I am having jaw surgery in a couple of months, and if I don't quit before then, I will be in a world of trouble. For one thing, my jaw will be wired shut for three weeks after the surgery, and when I picture myself trying to smoke in that condition, I feel like a complete redneck. Like a woman who's nine months pregnant and still drinking and smoking. Me no likey. Also, I know that if I smoke after my surgery, then the incisions in my mouth (there will be a few of them) won't heal, and that will start to get nasty. So, basically, I have to quit. I've taken two doses of Chantix so far, and my "Quit Date" is supposed to be next Tuesday. We'll see how it goes.
Second, I got contacts. For the first time. I had gone to the optometrist on Monday after work, for my eye exam and to get contacts, but the doctor wouldn't let me take the contacts with me that day, because my acrylic nails were preventing me from putting them in and taking them back out. Actually, I think I could've done it, but the doctor was adamant that I do it his way, so I reluctantly agreed to go home and cut off my purdy nails. No biggie, I kind of wanted to wear some almost-black nail polish anyway, and that color looks a little goth on long nails. (Not that there's anything wrong with looking goth, but I'm more of a turtleneck and plaid skirt kinda girl.) Anyhoo, once I could put my contacts in the "correct" way (it took several tries), the doctor let me take them with me. I was worried that they would be uncomfortable at first, but I swear, I can't feel them at all. And everything is so CLEAR now! I feel like Jasmine from Aladdin singing, "A whole ne-ew wooooorld...." I also got some new glasses, because my old ones were very "uncool," and I'll be picking those up on Friday. Maybe I'll post some Old Glasses/New Glasses pictures on here, like that glasses store that always advertises in the Metro Pulse and on billboards. (I feel bad saying this, but a lot of the time I think the person in the ad looked better with the old glasses!)
Third, I voted. For Hillary. And, surprisingly, I was in the majority of Tennesseans who voted in the Democratic primary! This is a first for me, to actually vote for a winner in the presidential election process. In 2000 I didn't get to vote in the primary (I didn't turn 18 until October), but I voted for Al Gore in November. (So, really, I did vote for a winner...but I won't get into that.) In 2004, I voted in the Republican primary, for the sole reason that I wanted to vote against George W. Bush. And we all know how that turned out. And in November 2004, well, it's a given that I voted for John Kerry. Which brought my record to 0-3. So, I'm pretty psyched that Hillary won in Tennessee, although I'm well aware that a win in Tennessee doesn't really mean anything. Barack could still get the nomination, and, really, I'd be okay with that. Actually, I'd be okay with having Clinton, Obama, or McCain as president. I know that McCain is a Republican, and he and I don't really agree on anything, but as Philly pointed out, he's so old (no offense) that he probably doesn't have an "agenda" like a lot of other politicians do. (Not naming any names, George W. Bush.) I think McCain would honestly try to do what's best for our country, and I appreciate that. Also, he's cute.
Fourth (and finally), my friend Scooter had invited me to go with him to the Tennessee vs. Florida basketball game, and because it didn't start until 9:00, we decided to pre-game at Toddy's. Now, I know that I was kinda dissin' Toddy's in a previous post, but let me emphasize that it is still My Favorite Bar. Anyhoo, last night was "Toddy Gras," so we drank beer and ate jambalaya and rice and beans (there was also a crawfish boil, but I didn't partake), before heading down to Thompson-Boling to watch the Vols kick some Gator Ass. Every time I go to a basketball game (which is usually once a season), I tell myself that I'm going to start going to more games (because they are fun!), but I never do. So, I guess that this was my one game for the season, and it was a damn good one!
And there you have it, my big Fat/Super Tuesday. Eventful days like this are good every once in awhile, but I have to admit that I'm looking forward to going straight home after work today and curling up on the couch. I'm tired!
First, I went to the doctor to ask about going on Chantix. For those of you who have been living in a cave for the past year, Chantix is a drug that (supposedly) helps people quit smoking. I've known several people who have taken it and been successful, and because I know that I lack the willpower to quit on my own, I've decided to try it. The truth is, I don't really want to quit smoking. I love smoking. (And, yes, I know that sounds terrible.) Nevertheless, I am having jaw surgery in a couple of months, and if I don't quit before then, I will be in a world of trouble. For one thing, my jaw will be wired shut for three weeks after the surgery, and when I picture myself trying to smoke in that condition, I feel like a complete redneck. Like a woman who's nine months pregnant and still drinking and smoking. Me no likey. Also, I know that if I smoke after my surgery, then the incisions in my mouth (there will be a few of them) won't heal, and that will start to get nasty. So, basically, I have to quit. I've taken two doses of Chantix so far, and my "Quit Date" is supposed to be next Tuesday. We'll see how it goes.
Second, I got contacts. For the first time. I had gone to the optometrist on Monday after work, for my eye exam and to get contacts, but the doctor wouldn't let me take the contacts with me that day, because my acrylic nails were preventing me from putting them in and taking them back out. Actually, I think I could've done it, but the doctor was adamant that I do it his way, so I reluctantly agreed to go home and cut off my purdy nails. No biggie, I kind of wanted to wear some almost-black nail polish anyway, and that color looks a little goth on long nails. (Not that there's anything wrong with looking goth, but I'm more of a turtleneck and plaid skirt kinda girl.) Anyhoo, once I could put my contacts in the "correct" way (it took several tries), the doctor let me take them with me. I was worried that they would be uncomfortable at first, but I swear, I can't feel them at all. And everything is so CLEAR now! I feel like Jasmine from Aladdin singing, "A whole ne-ew wooooorld...." I also got some new glasses, because my old ones were very "uncool," and I'll be picking those up on Friday. Maybe I'll post some Old Glasses/New Glasses pictures on here, like that glasses store that always advertises in the Metro Pulse and on billboards. (I feel bad saying this, but a lot of the time I think the person in the ad looked better with the old glasses!)
Third, I voted. For Hillary. And, surprisingly, I was in the majority of Tennesseans who voted in the Democratic primary! This is a first for me, to actually vote for a winner in the presidential election process. In 2000 I didn't get to vote in the primary (I didn't turn 18 until October), but I voted for Al Gore in November. (So, really, I did vote for a winner...but I won't get into that.) In 2004, I voted in the Republican primary, for the sole reason that I wanted to vote against George W. Bush. And we all know how that turned out. And in November 2004, well, it's a given that I voted for John Kerry. Which brought my record to 0-3. So, I'm pretty psyched that Hillary won in Tennessee, although I'm well aware that a win in Tennessee doesn't really mean anything. Barack could still get the nomination, and, really, I'd be okay with that. Actually, I'd be okay with having Clinton, Obama, or McCain as president. I know that McCain is a Republican, and he and I don't really agree on anything, but as Philly pointed out, he's so old (no offense) that he probably doesn't have an "agenda" like a lot of other politicians do. (Not naming any names, George W. Bush.) I think McCain would honestly try to do what's best for our country, and I appreciate that. Also, he's cute.
Fourth (and finally), my friend Scooter had invited me to go with him to the Tennessee vs. Florida basketball game, and because it didn't start until 9:00, we decided to pre-game at Toddy's. Now, I know that I was kinda dissin' Toddy's in a previous post, but let me emphasize that it is still My Favorite Bar. Anyhoo, last night was "Toddy Gras," so we drank beer and ate jambalaya and rice and beans (there was also a crawfish boil, but I didn't partake), before heading down to Thompson-Boling to watch the Vols kick some Gator Ass. Every time I go to a basketball game (which is usually once a season), I tell myself that I'm going to start going to more games (because they are fun!), but I never do. So, I guess that this was my one game for the season, and it was a damn good one!
And there you have it, my big Fat/Super Tuesday. Eventful days like this are good every once in awhile, but I have to admit that I'm looking forward to going straight home after work today and curling up on the couch. I'm tired!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Tip of the Day
I thought of this on the way to work this morning.
If you partied too much on Fat Tuesday and you don't make it to work on time the next morning, just rub a little black eye shadow in the middle of your forehead. Everyone will assume that you're late because you went to Ash Wednesday Mass.
Hehe, I'm so going straight to Hell for even thinking of this.
If you partied too much on Fat Tuesday and you don't make it to work on time the next morning, just rub a little black eye shadow in the middle of your forehead. Everyone will assume that you're late because you went to Ash Wednesday Mass.
Hehe, I'm so going straight to Hell for even thinking of this.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Super Bowl Sunday
When I go to a Super Bowl Party, it is very unlikely that I will actually watch the game. Or even the commercials, for that matter. I will, however, eat my weight in potato chips and french onion dip and drink a six pack of beer, like the good American that I am.
Every year I tell myself that I'm going to watch the Super Bowl commercials, because I know that everyone else will be talking about them the next day, and it would be nice (for once) to be able to say, "Oh yeah, that one." What kills me is that, on every other day of the year, I watch television commercials. Sometimes, when I've recorded something on the DVR and I don't have to watch the commercials, I still watch them. But on the one day when I'm supposed to watch commercials, and when they're (supposedly) at their finest, I can never remember to watch them.
Maybe it has something to do with the six pack.
Anyhoo, the party I went to last night was really fun, and there was lots of great food, including: tacos, chicken and dumplings, cornbread stuffing, meatballs and marinara sauce, shrimp cocktail, chips, veggies, dips, sausage balls, and more. Whoever planned this menu was clearly either high or pregnant, but it was certainly delish.
And that's enough about the Super Bowl.
So, people who know me know that I love Toddy's more than life itself. It's hands down my favorite bar in Knoxville. However, recently, Toddy's has undergone a few changes, some of which I don't mind, and some of which have me a little P.O.'d. I guess my attitude is, why mess with perfection?
First, Toddy's is no longer called "Toddy's." Actually, I don't know that it ever was. See, the liquor store that used to be downstairs (but has since moved down the street) is called "Toddy's," and the bar, which was around the back of the liquor store, was named the "Back Door Tavern." But, since Toddy's was in the front (business in the front, party in the back!), the bar was called "Toddy's Back Door Tavern," or "Toddy's" for short. Well, now that the liquor store has moved and the bar and the liquor store are no longer related, the bar is simply the "Back Door Tavern." This makes me kind of sad, although, for the "regulars," it will always be Toddy's.
Second, the owner of Toddy's (B.D.T.) recently invested in several flat-screen TVs, which definitely improves the bar's status on my list of Places to Watch Games, but which also may have contributed to another change (see next paragraph), which I'm not happy about, to say the least.
Third (this is the biggie), I found out on Saturday night that Miller Lite drafts, formerly priced at a (very) reasonable $1.50, are now a whopping $2.25! The nerve! I mean, one of my favorite things about Toddy's used to be that I could show up with six dollars and drink three beers, plus tip.
Not anymore.
And fourth, after, like, a million years of only having three beers on tap (Miller Lite, Shiner Bock, and Old Style), Toddy's now has a much better selection of draft beer, including Coors Light, Blue Moon, and several others. I guess the wider selection is another reason for the increase in price, but personally, I would rather have things the way they were. I mean, everyone knew that you went to Toddy's to drink Miller Lite draft beer, and if you didn't like it, then there were plenty of bottled beers to choose from.
I guess I'll just sit over here and pout for awhile.
That is, until this weekend, when I'm right back down there!
Every year I tell myself that I'm going to watch the Super Bowl commercials, because I know that everyone else will be talking about them the next day, and it would be nice (for once) to be able to say, "Oh yeah, that one." What kills me is that, on every other day of the year, I watch television commercials. Sometimes, when I've recorded something on the DVR and I don't have to watch the commercials, I still watch them. But on the one day when I'm supposed to watch commercials, and when they're (supposedly) at their finest, I can never remember to watch them.
Maybe it has something to do with the six pack.
Anyhoo, the party I went to last night was really fun, and there was lots of great food, including: tacos, chicken and dumplings, cornbread stuffing, meatballs and marinara sauce, shrimp cocktail, chips, veggies, dips, sausage balls, and more. Whoever planned this menu was clearly either high or pregnant, but it was certainly delish.
And that's enough about the Super Bowl.
So, people who know me know that I love Toddy's more than life itself. It's hands down my favorite bar in Knoxville. However, recently, Toddy's has undergone a few changes, some of which I don't mind, and some of which have me a little P.O.'d. I guess my attitude is, why mess with perfection?
First, Toddy's is no longer called "Toddy's." Actually, I don't know that it ever was. See, the liquor store that used to be downstairs (but has since moved down the street) is called "Toddy's," and the bar, which was around the back of the liquor store, was named the "Back Door Tavern." But, since Toddy's was in the front (business in the front, party in the back!), the bar was called "Toddy's Back Door Tavern," or "Toddy's" for short. Well, now that the liquor store has moved and the bar and the liquor store are no longer related, the bar is simply the "Back Door Tavern." This makes me kind of sad, although, for the "regulars," it will always be Toddy's.
Second, the owner of Toddy's (B.D.T.) recently invested in several flat-screen TVs, which definitely improves the bar's status on my list of Places to Watch Games, but which also may have contributed to another change (see next paragraph), which I'm not happy about, to say the least.
Third (this is the biggie), I found out on Saturday night that Miller Lite drafts, formerly priced at a (very) reasonable $1.50, are now a whopping $2.25! The nerve! I mean, one of my favorite things about Toddy's used to be that I could show up with six dollars and drink three beers, plus tip.
Not anymore.
And fourth, after, like, a million years of only having three beers on tap (Miller Lite, Shiner Bock, and Old Style), Toddy's now has a much better selection of draft beer, including Coors Light, Blue Moon, and several others. I guess the wider selection is another reason for the increase in price, but personally, I would rather have things the way they were. I mean, everyone knew that you went to Toddy's to drink Miller Lite draft beer, and if you didn't like it, then there were plenty of bottled beers to choose from.
I guess I'll just sit over here and pout for awhile.
That is, until this weekend, when I'm right back down there!
Friday, February 01, 2008
This Week, I Recommend...
As you might have noticed, I am no longer using the term "Product of the Week" for my weekly recommendations. This way, I can write about products and movies, restaurants, websites, local businesses, or whatever else strikes my fancy.
This week's recommendation is Wok Hay Fresh Asian Diner in Bearden.
I had eaten at Wok Hay before it went through "the change" (not the menopause one), and back then, I would have said that it was okay. The food was good, but the concept, which reminded me of a Panera (but with Asian food), didn't really do much for me. I heard about Ruby Tuesday buying it awhile back and turning it into a sit-down restaurant, but I hadn't eaten there since then, mainly because I had kind of forgotten about it.
Well, after eating there with Philly last night, all I have to say is: Good job, Ruby Tuesday.
When I walked into Wok Hay, I immediately loved its ambiance. It's decorated with lots of red and other deep colors, and it has the appearance of a nice restaurant, even though the food is still priced very reasonably.
Philly and I had just had a couple of beers and some popcorn over at Toddy's when we got there, so we weren't starving, and we decided that we'd each get a cup of hot and sour soup and then split a meal. First of all, the "cups" of soup were a lot bigger than a normal cup! And second of all, we each got our own bowl of crunchy wontons with our soup, which I thought was a nice touch. For our entree, we decided on the Kung Pao Noodle Bowl with beef (we also could've gotten chicken), and when it arrived, they had already split it into two portions for us! I love it when restaurants do that.
The service was good, the food was good, the prices were good...overall, it was a great meal.
What I don't understand is, if Ruby Tuesday can do so well with Wok Hay, why are their "regular" restaurants so crappy? I mean, I'm not saying that I don't like the Ruby Tuesday salad bar or that those little mini burgers aren't delish, but if you ever ate at a Ruby Tuesday "back in the day" (I'm referring to the 80's here), then you know that R.T. has really gone downhill since then. Does anyone remember when they used to have that delicious brown bread with honey butter? Those were the days, man. Those were the days.
But I digress.
This week's recommendation is Wok Hay Fresh Asian Diner in Bearden.
I had eaten at Wok Hay before it went through "the change" (not the menopause one), and back then, I would have said that it was okay. The food was good, but the concept, which reminded me of a Panera (but with Asian food), didn't really do much for me. I heard about Ruby Tuesday buying it awhile back and turning it into a sit-down restaurant, but I hadn't eaten there since then, mainly because I had kind of forgotten about it.
Well, after eating there with Philly last night, all I have to say is: Good job, Ruby Tuesday.
When I walked into Wok Hay, I immediately loved its ambiance. It's decorated with lots of red and other deep colors, and it has the appearance of a nice restaurant, even though the food is still priced very reasonably.
Philly and I had just had a couple of beers and some popcorn over at Toddy's when we got there, so we weren't starving, and we decided that we'd each get a cup of hot and sour soup and then split a meal. First of all, the "cups" of soup were a lot bigger than a normal cup! And second of all, we each got our own bowl of crunchy wontons with our soup, which I thought was a nice touch. For our entree, we decided on the Kung Pao Noodle Bowl with beef (we also could've gotten chicken), and when it arrived, they had already split it into two portions for us! I love it when restaurants do that.
The service was good, the food was good, the prices were good...overall, it was a great meal.
What I don't understand is, if Ruby Tuesday can do so well with Wok Hay, why are their "regular" restaurants so crappy? I mean, I'm not saying that I don't like the Ruby Tuesday salad bar or that those little mini burgers aren't delish, but if you ever ate at a Ruby Tuesday "back in the day" (I'm referring to the 80's here), then you know that R.T. has really gone downhill since then. Does anyone remember when they used to have that delicious brown bread with honey butter? Those were the days, man. Those were the days.
But I digress.
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