In Case Anyone's Wondering...

I haven't had a cigarette in 26 days.

Yes, I know I "quit" 44 days ago...but the last time I cheated was on March 1st.

Chantix rocks. Or, as Rick James would put it, Chantix is one hell of a drug.

Of course, I can't take it forever (nor would I want to...it makes me a little more tired than usual), so the hardest part might still be ahead.

T-Shirt Mania

Hee hee.

Someone should buy me one of these.

And that someone is named Slim.

'Cause I'm thinking he'd rather me wear that one, than this one, which I bought last week.

Cool Whip

For as long as I can remember, the Friday before Easter has indeed been a "Good" Friday. When I was young, it meant a day off from school. And when I was in college (and only went to class about half the time anyway) it meant an extra night of Going Out. Good, indeed.


So you can imagine my disappointment when I learned that, in the Real World, you actually have to work on Good Friday. Even on a Good Friday when the Vols are playing at noon! Seems more like So-So Friday to me.

And I fully expected to get one of those "We're shutting the place down early today" emails, like the one I got on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving last year, but it never came, and so there I sat until five o'(freakin')clock, realizing only now how good I had it when I was in college.

Seriously, people. Stay as long as you can.

On Saturday, Philly and I drove to Dandridge to visit my sister. And if there's one thing that's certain about going to Jenny's (my sister's) house, it's that you'll never want for Entertainment while you're there. For instance, during our 4-hour visit, the following things occurred:

1. Project Face Mask.

While we were eating lunch, my 12-year old niece, "Mini Jenny," casually mentioned that she had an art project due in a few days. Upon hearing this news, Philly immediately perked up. See, if there's one thing that Philly loves (well, besides poker and beer), it's School Projects. And unlike most parents, who merely offer a to help their kids with Projects, Philly always just did ours for us. (This worked out well for Jenny and me, because, like most kids, we hated having to do Projects.)

The problem we had when we were growing up, though, was that sometimes Philly would do a little too good of a job on our projects, and they would end up winning some award. Like the time Jenny had to create a poster for a county-wide contest, and she (Philly) ended up winning the damn thing. Jenny even had to ride Downtown with her teacher and have her picture taken with her (Philly's) Winning Poster! Talk about being mortified. (Philly, on the other hand, was thrilled!)

Then there was the time I accidentally forgot to mention until the day before it was due that I was supposed to have spent the past couple of weeks working on a Science Project. (Whoops!) After the obligatory lecture on not putting things off until the last minute, Philly whisked me off to the Walmart, where, after shopping around a bit for "Ideas," she settled on the topic "How Bubble Gum Is Made." (Keep in mind, this was elementary school science class, not Rocket Science 101.) We went home and set to work on creating a Display (well, one of us set to work), complete with Examples (I did most of the chewing) and Explanations. And let me just say that coming up with an Explanation back then was not as easy as it is now. If it weren't for the World Book Encyclopedia, I don't know what we would have done. Naturally, I (Philly) won an Honorable Mention for that one.

Oh, and the other thing about Philly and School Projects is that sometimes her ideas can be a little...out there. Just ask Jenny, who, on Crazy Hat Day in the 1st Grade was forced to go to school wearing an upside down Cool Whip container which had popcorn glued all over the outside of it and a cannister of Morton salt glued to the top. As Jenny pointed out, all the other kids wore baseball caps, or maybe a sombrero, but no, Jenny had to wear a fucking Cool Whip container on her head.

Do you see what I mean when I say that there's never a lack of Entertainment during a visit to Jenny's? If only because we spend so much time reliving the past.

Anyhoo, Mini Jenny's Project entailed creating a mask that represented something about her, such as an emotion she was having or some aspect of her personality. Almost immediately, Philly had an idea (no doubt, one that involved a Cool Whip container), and she sent Jenny, M.J., and me to the store for Supplies.

Which bring me to the next part of the visit:

2. The Trip to the Family Dollar.

No trip to Dandridge is complete without a trip to the Family Dollar. True, Knoxville has its own Family Dollar, but as far as I know, the closest one is out on Chapman Highway, and I'm very rarely on that side of town.

The first thing I would like to note about the Family Dollar is that it is leaps and bounds ahead of Dollar General. I always assumed that the two were substantially similar, but that's just not the case. And the second thing (which just kills Slim) is that you can buy clothes at the Family Dollar. And I always do! This time, for instance, I walked out with an adorable white blouse, some brown capris, and a pair of plaid Bermuda shorts. And I only paid about thirty bucks, tax included! Granted, these aren't the items of clothing that I expect to have in my closet for several seasons, but for my trendy (yes, I just said trendy), one-season needs, they're perfect.

Long story short (too late!), we got the supplies we needed and headed back to the house.

3. Lesson in Dealing With Dog Problems.

While Philly began work on The Project, I discussed with Jenny a Little Problem that I've been having with my upstairs neighbors at my apartment. See, these particular neighbors have a Shih Tzu-looking dog, who appears to be allowed to come outside on the balcony as he pleases. And when I first moved in, he would occasionally stand on the balcony and bark, although usually only when someone was approaching. As a single girl living alone, I didn't necessarily view this as a bad thing; I think it's always nice to know when someone's in the vicinity, especially since I live on the ground floor.

Recently, however, the Occasional Barking has turned into Constant Barking, which I am NOT okay with. But, since I don't reallly know my upstairs neighbors, I hate to have to go up there and complain. You know how that is.

Jenny (being Jenny) related a similar story, in which she was living in a neighborhood where the houses were fairly close to each other, and her neighbor had a Yorkshire Terrier in the backyard that never shut up. She finally went next door to complain about the barking, most of which was occurring during the day, and her neighbor's response was, "Well, I'm at work all day, so I don't really care what the dog does while I'm gone. Deal with it."

Clearly, this neighbor didn't know who she was dealing with.

Jenny looked at her and said, "Let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that you're gone allllll day long? Every day? Great, that's all I needed to know."

So, the next day, when the neighbor left for work and the dog immediately began yapping, well, Jenny went outside with her BB gun, and she shot that damn dog. (Relax, it's just a BB gun.) And after that, every time the dog started barking, all Jenny had to do was to walk outside with that BB gun, and it shut right up.

And that, according to my sister, is the way you take care of a Dog Problem.

Well, needless to say, I'm not going to be shooting my neighbor's dog with a BB gun anytime soon (but only because I don't have one, and because they're never not home), which means that, unless the situation improves, I'm going to be having to make the dreaded trip upstairs for a Confrontation. Sigh.

And that brings me to the end of our trip to Jenny's. Philly finished M.J.'s project (which she'll probably win an award for), and it was time for us to head back home, where life just never seems to be quite as entertaining as it is at Jenny's.

Come On In, The Water's Fine!

I just saw a TV ad for Myrtle Beach, and I swear that there was a video clip of a shark, along with the clips of people dancing, sailing, laughing on the beach, and generally having the time of their life.

And I'm guessing that the shark was in reference to the Ripley's Aquarium that's in Myrtle Beach, but still. A shark?

Might be sending the wrong message.

A Little Sun, a Little Moon

Ahhhh. Spring is finally here.

Last night: Windy, rainy WINTER. (60-degree winter, but nevertheless winter.)

This morning: Sunny, sunny SPRING! (40-degree spring, but...you get the gist.)

Actually, I didn't mind the wind and rain last night, which is unusual for me. It's not that I hate rain in general, it's just that it always seems to be POURING when I have to be somewhere, and despite the use of an umbrella, I still manage to get drenched. Last night, I didn't have to be anywhere but my apartment, so, as soon as I got home from work, I changed into my PJs and parked myself on the couch, with a blanket, a bowl of popcorn and a glass of ginger ale. (I'm so turning into my father.) And I spent the next few hours watching...get this...Moonlighting. Hehe. (I'm so turning into my mother.)

Why Moonlighting, you ask? Well, I decided a few months ago that I was going to buy a couple of old TV shows on DVD, just to see if they were as good as everyone said they were. I picked Moonlighting first, because I remembered that it was one of Philly's favorite shows during the 80's.

Now, having watched several episodes, I've made the following observations:

1. Surprisingly, Bruce Willis was a Sexy Guy in the 80's.
2. Some walk by night, and some fly by day. (Didn't know that before.)
3. It's amazing what people will tell a "private investigator."
4. Clutch purses, no matter how stylish, are completely impractical.
5. Belted dresses are both stylish and flattering (and should be worn at all times).
6. Backlighting is both stylish and flattering (and should be used at all times).
7. Not having sex with someone is much more interesting than having sex with them.
and
8. When it came to guns, people in the 80's had REALLY bad aim.

Seriously, how many times can two people get shot at, without actually getting hit?

And that's all I have to say about that.

Up in Arms

As you might've heard, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments yesterday in the D.C. ban-on-handguns case. The issue is whether the ban violates the 2nd Amendment right "to keep and bear Arms."

Personally, I have no problem with a ban on handguns. I would even support a more stringent ban on guns, if I had any hope that it could actually be enforced. However, I really don't think that this particular law will be upheld. For one thing, everything I've read has said that, during the arguments, several justices were hinting that they were in favor of individuals having guns for self-defense. Moreover, who are we kidding...a ban on handguns in D.C.? A city with one of the highest crime rates in the entire country? Hell, the justices themselves probably pack heat.

If you haven't read the 2nd Amendment in awhile (since high school government class, maybe?), here's what it says:

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

I know you problably just skimmed through that, but read it again, word-for-word.

It's kind of heavy on the commas, don't ya think? Does it even really make sense? I mean, isn't there some rule of writing that says, when a phrase in a sentence is set off by commas on both sides, you should be able to remove that phrase and still have a grammatically correct sentence? I feel like I learned that at some point between 1st and 12th grade (couldn't say when), but if it's not true, then I'm going to, start putting commas, wherever the, hell I want, to.

Perhaps ole Shorty Madison (also known as "James" in some circles) had tossed back a few whiskeys before he sat down with his quill and paper, and he was just feeling a little generous with the commas. Or, maybe he put them in intentionally. Who knows.

Why am I focusing so much on the damn commas, you ask? Well, apparently, a lot of the debate over the meaning of the 2nd Amendment has centered on its punctuation. And I don't know if this is true or not, but, according to Wikipedia, the above version of the Amendment was the version that was passed by the House and Senate (the members of which, clearly, didn't major in English), while the following version was the one actually sent to the states for ratification (note that there's only one comma):

A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed.

Makes a lot more sense, doesn't it. If anyone knows whether this little tidbit is accurate, then I would love to know. Because, if it is true that one version of the Amendment was passed by the House and Senate and another version was passed by the states, then which one is the "right" one?

Assuming (without deciding, as judges always say) that the 2nd Amendment does make sense, the Big Issue now is whether a law that bans handguns is in violation of it. I think we would all agree that the 2nd Amendment doesn't give us an unlimited right to own weapons, just like the 1st Amendment doesn't give us an unlimited right to free speech. (See: Kiddie porn, killin' words, etc.) But where do we draw the line? Exactly how "armed" can we be?

In the olden days (18th Century), there wasn't a huge difference between the weapons that existed and those that ordinary people had the right to own. (I'm basing this statement on extensive research, i.e., the HBO series John Adams, which I'm nearly positive is 100% historically accurate.) Today, however, we can't very well have people keeping nuclear bombs in their kitchen cabinets (beside the kiddie porn).

Which brings me to another point (or lack thereof): If the "People" are no longer allowed to have the same (or similar) weapons as the "State," then do we really have a "well-regulated militia"? If the government were to turn tyrannical tomorrow, would the citizens really be able to do anything about it with handguns? Hmmm. And if we were attacked tomorrow by another country, would all of the handgun owners in the country band together and set out to defend their women and children (and land)? I wonder.

So, if the purpose of the 2nd Amendment (according to the Founding Fathers) was to secure a free country by having a well-regulated (read: well-armed) militia, and that's not really an issue at this point, then why, pray tell, should we still have a right to own handguns?

[Reader Response: For self-defense, you ignorant bitch!]

I see. We need guns to defend ourselves, because, even if guns are banned, the Bad Guys will still have them. Like drugs! Drugs are illegal, but that certainly doesn't stop the Bad Guys from buying and selling them. Seriously, though, if the Bad Guys break into our homes, we want to be able to shoot them! It's our God-given right!

On the other hand, if the Court decides that a ban on handguns violates our right to bear arms, then why can't we have sawed-off shotguns? I'd kind of like one of those puppies under my bed, you know, for self-defense and all.

Isn't this fun? Looking at the issue from all sides? (Yes, I realize that I'm a total geek. And if you're still reading this, then you are, too!)

All things considered, I really don't know where I stand on this issue. I hate the thought of my freedom being taken away, but hell, it's not like we have a right to have something just because it exists (if that were the case, then we'd all have little marijuana gardens in our backyards). It will definitely be interesting to see what the Supreme Court has to say about it, come June (or, whenever the opinion is supposed to be published). And now I'm off to do some handgun-shopping, while I still can.

Tastes Like Chicken

I made the most delicious barbecue-style chicken last night. Yes, that's right...barbecue-style. Meaning, it's not actually barbecued.

All you do is: Take some boneless, skinless chicken breasts (however many you want), and put them in a baking dish. Then, douse them with a bunch of barbecue sauce. Don't skimp. (I had gotten one of those three-packs of chicken breasts, and I used about two-thirds of a bottle of sauce.) Make sure you rotate the chicken a couple of times, so the sauce isn't just on top of it. The chicken should be pretty much immersed. Cover the pan with foil (or a lid) and put it in a 275-degree oven for two hours. You could probably adjust the temperature and time a little bit, but this combination worked well for me. When you take it out of the oven, remove the chicken from the sauce, and, using two forks, begin pulling it apart. If you've cooked it right, this should take no time at all. Finally, put the pulled chicken back into the pan, which should still have all the sauce in it, and mix it all around. Let it sit for a few minutes (for optimal soakage of the sauce) before serving.

We ate the chicken by itself, but it would also be delicious as a sandwich. Add some potato chips and baked beans, and you've got yourself a tailgate menu! Or, a menu for your March Madness party!

Good luck! (Not that you'll need it. This is pretty hard to screw up.)

Resourceful

On the first day Slim and I were in Clearwater, I came into contact with some bleach. I have no idea how it happened, but at some point, I glanced down at my favorite dark jeans (which I was wearing at the time), and found about ten patches of pure white. "Motherfucker," I said. (Because, really, what else is there to say, when you've just realized that your favorite jeans are ruined?)

If you have as much trouble finding The Perfect Jeans as I do, then I'm sure you understand my disappointment.

Then, the other day, while I was waiting in line at Walgreens, I noticed a navy Sharpie on the shelf. (I had seen black and royal blue ones before, but never navy.) And it dawned on me: I bet I could color in the white patches on my jeans with the navy Sharpie, and they would be, like, fixed! So, I went home and went to work, shading in the white patches.

At first, the colored parts were a little darker than the rest of the jeans (but still better than when they were white), but after I washed and dried them (alone, in case the ink bled), wouldn't you know...they're perfect! I guess washing them made the Sharpie fade a little bit, and now they look as good as new.

So, there's a tip for you. Just something to keep in mind.

True Dat

1. Urinary tract infections suck. If you've never had one, consider yourself lucky.

2. Being sick is a great way to find out exactly what kind of guy your boyfriend is. Slim is one of those do-anything-for-you types, so I consider myself lucky.

3. I don't care how old I get; I will always enjoy going to my parents' house when they're out of town and drinking all of their beer and liquor. If only because I know how much it annoys them.

Ron and Philly left for Vegas today. Party at their place tonight!

This Week, I Recommend...

As you might have gathered from a recent post, I've done a lot of eating out lately. Got my sushi fix at Tomo on Friday night (with Philly), ate a gargantuan salad at Jason's Deli on Saturday (with Slim), had Greek food at Kalamata Cafe on Sunday (also with Slim), and went to the Dixie Stampede with Slim and his parents ("Big Slim and Judy") on Monday. Yes, you read that right. The Dixie Stampede.

I hadn't been to the Stampede since the early 90's, when I went with Philly and Ron, but it seemed to me like things hadn't changed much. The food was the same (each person gets enough to feed an army), the smell was the same (not too terrible, but a little barn-y), and the show...despite claims of being "new"...was pretty much the same as what I remembered. I mean, I'm sure there have been some changes in the past fifteen years (God, has it been that long? I'm old.), but they still pick two men out of the audience to throw "horseshoes" (which actually turn out to be horseshoe-shaped toilet seats), and I know they've been doing that bit for awhile, because Ron was one of the men picked to do it way-back-when. And, of course, they still split the audience into the "North" and the "South," which I thoroughly enjoy, simply because I know there are some people on the North side who are downright pissed to be cheering for the damn Yankees. (Slim, Big Slim, Judy, and I were seated in the South section on Monday, thank God.)

Overall, I enjoyed the dinner and show at the Dixie Stampede, and I definitely think everyone who lives around here should visit, at least once every fifteen years. After all, we have to show our support for Dolly, right? (And, speaking of Dolly, if she were to run for President, would you vote for her? I would.)

As for the other places I've eaten recently (of which there are way too many), here is how I feel about them:

1. Tomo. I know that there are, like, 84 places to eat sushi in Knoxville at this point, but I'm partial to one of the originals. It might not be as trendy as Nama, or have as many options as some of the other places, but I've always found the sushi at Tomo to be delicious, and I like that it's not...pretentious.

2. Jason's Deli. Although it's a little more expensive than some of my usual lunch spots, the food here is great. Slim had a sandwich called the New York Yankee, and I swear to God, each half of it was bigger than his head. (Yet he still managed to finish it. The amount of food a man can consume in one sitting will never cease to amaze me.) I had the salad bar and was delighted by the variety of foods it included. I mean, it had all the regular stuff (lettuce), but it also had a few surprises, like miniature gingerbread muffins (I ate at least four) and snack mix (which I was tempted to fill my pockets with, Napoleon Dynamite-style). Also, there's complimentary soft serve ice cream cones for dessert, which Slim managed to find room in his stomach for, despite having eaten enough deli meat to feed an entire African village for a month. I, on the other hand, was too busy inhaling muffins to be bothered by ice cream. (You know, it's funny...our combined weight is only about 270 pounds...you'd think it'd be much more.)

3. Kalamata Cafe. This place was a little different from the last time I ate there. It used to be a Greek restaurant, but now, Greek food comprises only a page or two of the War and Peace-length menu. The rest of it is sushi and sush-related things (Japanese fondue?), which one would certainly expect from a place called "Kalamata Cafe." I'm sorry, but I'm just not a fan of this fusion concept. (I'm a fan of fusion concepts in general, but not this particular one.) Slim had a tuna salad (the kind with a raw piece of tuna on top, not the kind that starts off with a can of StarKist), and I had a Greek-ish panini, which, I'll admit, was very good. Nevertheless, I left feeling confused.

Best Thing I've Heard All Day

Global warming is like Santa Claus. You either believe in it, or you don't.

-research clerk at The Firm

What Should We Eat?

After a weekend spent hanging out with Slim, I can't help but think of one of my favorite Chris Rock bits, which you can watch here.

In this clip, he talks about Soul Mates and how they don't really exist. The best we can ever hope for, he says, is to find someone whom we like to 1) eat with, and 2) fuck. Pretty dead-on, dontcha think? Now, I'm not going to comment on the latter one (because this isn't that kind of blog...and if I wanted to write about that stuff, then I would certainly do it anonymously), but as for eating together, I am in total agreement with Chris.

I mean, do you ever feel like all you ever do with your significant other is EAT? It's no wonder that married women tend to be a little bigger than single ones. For Slim and me, a typical (weekend) day would go something like this:

1. Wake up, discuss whether it's early enough for breakfast, or whether we should just go ahead and eat lunch.
2. Decide that, by the time we get ready and drive somewhere, it will be noon (or, three-thirty), so, lunch it is.
3. Drive down Kingston Pike, staring at the same damn restaurants we always eat at and hoping to find something new.
4. Agree that we definitely want something "healthy."
5. Agree that we don't want anything too expensive.
6. Pull into the parking lot of a restaurant that fulfills neither of those requirements.
7. Eat our over-priced sandwiches, like the white people that we are.
8. Run errands, go to park, possibly engage in the stuff I don't write about (probably at home, although maybe at the park).
9. Want a "little something." Maybe ice cream?
10. Begin discussing what we're going to do for dinner. Should we go out again or cook something?
11. Let's cook something, it will be cheaper.
12. Go to grocery store, spend $40 on groceries. Glad we're saving money.
13. Begin cooking. Probably have an argument, because Slim is "messy."
14. Time to eat!
15. Wash dishes; think about maybe baking some brownies. Oooh, and maybe we'll have some popcorn, while we watch the movie.
16. Brownies and popcorn.
17. The stuff that I don't write about. Unless my belly is too full from all the damn eating I've done.

Sound familiar?

Thanks, But No Thanks

I received the following message on Myspace today:

Hi Candy, my name is Caramel. I was lookin at your profile and came across your pics. U have a great smile as well as a great body by the way... lol. Don't get me wrong I'm not tryin to hit on you, I totally love dick... lol. I just know talent and eye candy when I see it. Me and my partner are working on a private escort service along with a few other male oriented business endeavors in the Knoxville and surrounding area. I just wanted to extend the invitation to you to see if you might be interested in auditioning. If you are interested in making new friends and some good money, hit me up. This is a totally classy and 100% private business.

You know, it's funny (lol!)...I've been looking for a way to make new friends and some good money. And this sounds totally legit, don't you think?

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog

Have I mentioned how much I love going to Clearwater? You'd think I would get tired of it at some point (I've been 8 times in 9 years), but I never do. My newest scheme is to get Slim to go to grad school at the University of South Florida, so that either a) I can move there with him; or b) I can go visit him (the beach) a lot, and not have to stay in a hotel! I love it. Anyhoo, about the trip....

One thing I'm definitely learning (as I get older, I mean) is that traveling with a boyfriend is very different from traveling with friends or family. Not necessarily better or worse, but different. For one thing, when you go on a trip with just one person, you damn well better know that you like him (or her), because you're going to have a lot of one-on-one time. Luckily, Slim is generally a pretty easy-going guy, and that goes well with my tendency to be slightly...intolerant. (Example: I once had to leave a guy in Florida, after he pissed me off so much that I couldn't stand to be around him for another second. In my defense, he deserved it.)

Also, when you travel with someone of the opposite sex, you have to compromise on a few things. Like, I'll let it go that he never puts the seat down after he pees, if he, in turn, doesn't complain about me taking over an hour to get dressed and put on my makeup. See? Give and take.

Slim and I arrived in Tampa at about 2:00 on Saturday afternoon, and after picking up our pimp ride (a cerulean Chevy Aveo) from the rental company, we headed west to Clearwater. True to my word, our first stop was Frenchy's Rockaway Grill ("my favorite beachside grill"), so that I could drink something frozen and really feel like I was on vacation. Here we are while we were waiting on an outdoor table, and yes, I agree that we look very pale and un-vacation-y. (And also like two very nerdy teenagers.)

And here we are, several hours (and drinks) later, thankfully looking a little less pale and a lot more...um...vacation-y. I think we were in a bar called The Wave when this was taken, but I honestly couldn't swear to it. (And Slim may have been giving me a kiss on the forehead, but I couldn't swear to that either. What can I say, LIT's were on special that night.)

We were really lucky and had beautiful weather on both Sunday and Monday, so we spent most of those days on the beach. On Sunday afternoon it got a little breezy, though, so we decided to head to the Tiki Bar to watch extremely drunk people dance at, like, 4:30 in the afternoon. Here's Slim, looking very mean and tough (probably to make up for the fact that he was drinking a mojito).

And this last one is a shot of us on The Pier, after another day on the beach.

I really wish Slim had his shirt off, so you could see his Sweater Vest (the name I use to refer to his bear-like chest hair), but unfortunately, he had burned his back and shoulders and had to cover up.

On our last day (Tuesday), the weather wasn't as nice, but we didn't really mind, because we had already made plans to drive to St. Petersburg and visit one of the art museums there, where Slim's cousin works. And after that, it was time to head back to the airport.

Like I said, traveling as a "couple" is a little different than traveling with a group of friends or family. It doesn't make for very interesting blogging ("We went to dinner; Slim had the crab legs, while I opted for fish"), but it's definitely enjoyable. As long as you don't end up leaving the person in a different state. (Hehe.)