In Jail and Pregnant.

I realized this week, when I found out that I'm now eligible for The Firm's 401k plan, that it's been a whole year since I entered The Real World. Also, it was a year ago this weekend that I moved out of my parents' house (where I'd lived during law school) and into my apartment. What a difference a year makes.

I like to think that I've grown a lot during my first year of "real" adulthood. I've had to deal with quite a bit, like: my cat dying, both of my grandmothers passing away, rekindling a relationship, realizing that rekindling that relationship was a total mistake, having major surgery on my jaw, and having to pay back those pesky student loans. I've learned what it's like to be completely self-sufficient. And I've learned that it's okay to be alone.

However, as much as I like to think that I've grown up during the past year, in most ways, I'm still the same old Candy. I still write my To Do lists on my wrist (something I've been doing since middle school), and I still keep a Daily Log of everything that I do (and often what I was wearing when I did it). What can I say, I like to write stuff down. And "compulsive" is such an ugly word.

A couple of years ago, I wrote down some advice that my mom had given me, and I came across this advice the other day, while I was looking at some old documents on my computer. It's priceless.

"You know what you really need to concentrate on? Staying out of jail. And not getting pregnant."

I'll try to keep this in mind while I'm in Vegas this week.

Speaking of which, I'm not planning on being in the hotel room very much while I'm out there, so there's really no sense in me taking my laptop. Thus, you probably won't see any new posts here until at least next weekend.

Wish me luck at the tables, and Go Vols!

I've Lost My Mind

Since I'll be doing a lot of eating and drinking in Vegas next week, I've been trying to eat extra healthy for the past few days, to, you know, "save up" my calories for the trip. As if it actually works that way.

But today, I couldn't stand the thought of eating another tuna sandwich for lunch. I was craving some Mickey D's. See, someone in the office had it for lunch yesterday, and naturally it smelled soooo good that I haven't been able to think about anything else since. (That's how they getcha.) So, at 12:30 today, I left work to go get chicken nuggets and fries. So much for my "diet."

I was on the phone with Teeny when I pulled up to the drive-thru (yes, I was that girl), and I asked her to hold on for a second while I ordered. I scanned the menu, looking for the Mighty Kids meals (which have 6 chicken nuggets), but all I saw was the regular kids' meals (which only have 4...clearly not enough). I asked the speaker voice whether they still had the Mighty Kids meals on the menu, and the answer was a resounding no. So, I just ordered the chicken nuggets value meal, which has 10 nuggets. Probably more than I needed, but oh well.

I drove to the first window and paid, and then I got my bag and drink from the second window and headed back to work, still talking to Teeny the whole time. And I was still on the phone with her when I got back to my office and started pulling my food out of the bag.

"Gosh, these are the worst McDonald's fries I have ever seen," I said. They don't even look like McDonald's fries."

"That's a bummer," she replied.

Then, I started pulling the ketchup packets out of the bag.

"Why in the world is McDonald's using ketchup packets with 'Wendy's' on them?"

"You idiot, you went to Wendy's and didn't realize it."

Shit.

That explains why the Mighty Kids meals weren't on the menu.

Las Vegas State of Mind

While Philly and I ate delicious (and half-priced!) sushi at Nama the other night, we discussed the various ways that each one of us is getting into a Vegas State of Mind.

For me, getting ready for Vegas involves things like:

1. Rereading several chapters of Casino Gambling for Dummies (because I still don't really understand Craps);
2. Making a tentative itinerary (because I'm kind of compulsive like that); and
3. Watching quintessential Vegas movies (which serves no real purpose, but is nevertheless fun).

For her, it involves:

1. Shopping for a new purse.

I don't know why, but every time Philly goes to Las Vegas (which is usually twice a year), she insists on buying a new purse to carry while she's out there. She calls these her Casino Purses. I, on the other hand, find that the purses I use here in Knoxville work just as well in the desert.

So, you see, we're not exactly alike, although my ex-boyfriends would certainly say otherwise. (Hehe.)

Clarity

Today I was going to write about my upcoming Vegas trip (we leave in less than a week!), but that post is going to have to wait for another day or two. Instead, I'm going to take a moment to address a feeling that I think we've all experienced, at some point or another after a break-up: that elusive "What the Hell Was I Thinking?" moment.

There comes a point after a break-up, after all of the moping and feeling sorry for yourself, when you finally get over it and, quite often, come to the realization that the poor SOB wasn't good enough for you to begin with. Usually it's a mixed feeling, because while on the one hand you are glad that you have finally gotten some clarity about the situation and realized what you have not, in fact, lost, on the other hand, you are kind of sick over the fact that you wasted even a moment with someone so undeserving of your time.

I know you know what I'm talking about.

I've been wondering What the Hell I Was Thinking (re: Slim) for awhile now, but the text message I received from him at about 2:00 a.m. on Saturday night really sealed the deal.

It said: I've been drinking, how's the alcohol treating u tonite?

Oh Lord, where to begin. First off, is this 2001, and did I meet you at a fraternity band party last week? Am I 18 again, and I didn't even realize it? I must have gone through some kind of time warp.

Granted, even in my post-college ("adult") life, I am no stranger to the concept of drunk texting. I realize that it is not uncommon for a guy to get liquored up and start jonesin' for a little pootang. And, sure, an ex-girlfriend is an obvious choice. Even if she has asked you not to contact her, ever again.

And of course, I'm not deluded enough to think that Slim's drunken text was some kind of attempt to "rekindle" what we had. I'm aware that it was strictly a Booty Call (Text). However. Could there BE a more poorly written Booty Text? Can we say awkward? And, gay?

I guess I should thank Slim, though. Without a text message like this, I might never have realized that the boy I once dated was just that: a boy. In my irrational state (which I thought was love, but really was just infatuation), I built him up to be something that he wasn't. But thankfully, I'm back to being my rational self now, and can see the poor kid for what he really is.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Copycat Cooking

One of my favorite things to order at the now-defunct Charlie Peppers restaurant was the California Veggie Burger, which was a black bean burger with roasted tomatoes and guacamole, served on a whole wheat bun. If you ever had it, then you know why I loved it so much. It was delish.

Tonight I made my own version of it.

I started off by slicing a vine-ripened tomato. Then, I poured a couple of tablespoons of olive oil onto a plate and seasoned it with salt and pepper. I put the tomato slices in the oil and turned them over so that both sides would be coated, and then I put them on a cookie sheet. Then, I roasted them at 400 degrees until they looked like I figured they were supposed to look.

Next, I mashed up an avocado with some lemon juice, a couple of squirts of light mayo, and some salt and chili powder. I swear, I could have eaten this stuff all by itself.

Then, I cooked a MorningStar Farms black bean veggie burger, according to the directions on the box.

Finally, I assembled my burger by placing it on a plate and topping it with a couple of roasted tomato slices and a very generous scoop of the avocado mixture. I could have put it on a bun, but I just decided to eat it with a knife and fork.

And it was sooooo good.

I would have taken a picture to show you, but I ate it too fast!

Peaches & Crime

Has anyone else noticed that the names of the Febreze Air Effects scents make absolutely no "sense" whatsoever? (Hee hee, homonyms!) I've been noticing it for the past few months, ever since The Firm has been stocking its bathrooms with this particular brand of air freshener. We get a new scent every few weeks, so I've smelled most of them. And granted, I have no issue with the quality of the product; in fact, I frequently notice how nice the bathroom smells. However, the names of these things are driving me crazy.

It's like, the scent names would make sense, but for the fact that there's a random "&" sign in every single one. Read below, and tell me if you don't agree that every damn one of these would make a ton more sense (and would actually be more appealing) without the ampersand.

Summer & Splash

Spring & Renewal

Citrus & Light

Rocky Springs & Cool

Blossoms & Breeze

Berries & Paradise

Lavender Vanilla & Comfort

Apple Spice & Delight

Vanilla & Refresh

Linen & Sky

Meadows & Rain

Okay, with the exception of rain (which I generally find smells like damp pavement), do any of the words following the ampersands actually have an odor? Delight? Renewal? What the hell is going on here, people?

I don't know who the hell came up with these names, but I'm convinced that they did it solely to annoy me.

Warning: This Post May Put You To Sleep

Sometimes when I don't blog for a few days, it's because I'm out there l-i-v-i-n' life, and I'm just too busy to write about it. Other times, it's because my life has become so mundane that I literally having nothing to say.

This time, it's the latter one.

Let's just say that you know your life has become boring when the most exciting thing that happened to you all weekend was buying a new comforter for your bed.

Seriously though, it was the highlight of my weekend.

See, a few months ago, I bought this fabulous picture to hang over my bed (please forgive my poor photography):


And, as you can see, it has been sitting on the floor with the cardboard corners on it ever since. The problem was, it really didn't match my bedspread, which was a pink and blue flowery number that I think was on my parents' bed, back in the '90's. I was just using it for the time being, until I found something I liked. (I had gotten tired of the comforter I'd used during undergrad and law school.)

And yes, it just dawned on me what probably happened under...or on...my parents' bedspread. Eww. Thank God for the Heavy Duty cycle.

Anyhoo, I've been looking for a new comforter set that would match my picture, but so far, I hadn't found anything with the requisite colors. Then, on Sunday, I went shopping for some jean shorts (the cute kind, not the "jorts" kind), and while I was wandering through Kohl's, one of the display beds caught my eye. I wasn't 100% sold on it, until one of the "sales associates" came by and informed me that I could save 30% if I opened a Kohl's charge card.

Now we're talkin'.

Thirty percent ain't much when you're only buying a pair of jean shorts (which, incidentally, I did find), but when you're about to drop a couple hundred bucks on a comforter set, it makes a difference, ya know?

Not only does this comforter have all three of the colors I was looking for (red, yellow, and blue), but it also feels sooo good, not at all "crunchy," like some brand-new comforters feel:


It also goes really well with that yellow blanket at the bottom of the bed, which is my favorite blanket ever. I think it's microfiber, or something. And you see that big white wall? That's where Audrey is going to go. At some point. (Usually I make Philly come over and hang my pictures for me, because she's good at centering and such.)

Other than that, I pretty much spent my weekend watching the Olympics and catching up on sleep, which I needed, after staying up late to watch gymnastics every night last week.

Oh, and I also watched The Hills all evening on Sunday and immediately became obsessed with it. I can't believe I've been living my life without Lauren, Whitney, Audrina, and Heidi. Quality television.

My Hero

One of the reasons I look forward to Fridays so much (besides the obvious reason, of course) is that every Friday I get to read the latest column by one of my favorite writers, Joel Stein.

You can find this week's column, along with a few other recent ones, here. I especially like the one from August 8th.

I first discovered Joel when I was a senior in high school, and I took a class called "Comparative Politics." I have no clue what that class was about, but what I do remember about it was that, once a week, we got to spend an entire class period reading the current issues of Time and Newsweek. (Give it up for Mrs. Sanders!) I also remember doing a presentation on Mexico, based on a book I was supposed to have read but didn't, so I just made sopapillas for the entire class and then spent thirty minutes discussing the book's Introduction. 'Cause that's how I roll.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, reading magazines during class. I always looked forward to reading Time more than Newsweek, because Time had articles by Joel Stein, and those were pretty much the only articles that didn't put me to sleep. All the other ones were about boring things, like politics and international affairs. (You can tell that I was really "into" this class.)

After that year, I completely forgot about Joel, until several weeks ago, when Philly sent me a link to one of his columns in the L.A. Times. After reading that column (and also going through all of the archives), I remembered why I love him so much. He doesn't discriminate; he just makes fun of everything. My kinda guy.

Joel, if you're reading this (not likely), I just want you to know that you're my hero. I'm pretty sure you're married, but if (God forbid) things don't work out, I'll be waiting in the wings.

Vegas, Baby

I have a dilemma. Ron and Philly have invited me to go to Las Vegas with them, and I can't decide whether or not to go.

I know what you're probably thinking: It's Vegas, Candy, of COURSE you should go!

But, there's one problem: I'm not sure I can take off from work. See, according to my weekly pay stubs, I have approximately six Vacation Days left this year. However, less than three months ago, I took off work for three weeks to have my jaw surgery. Of course, that was Sick Leave, not Vacation Days, but I still feel a little guilty for taking off again so soon.

On the other hand: My parents are going to be staying at Harrah's, the home of Carnaval Court, which I've heard is a blast during the summer. Also, I LOVE VEGAS. Even though I'd be going with my parents (no offense, y'all), it would still be really, really fun.

Conclusion: Guilt, schmilt. I wanna go play with my friends ("Vodka" and "Roulette").

So, I've decided that the best (i.e., most non-confrontational) way to approach the Padnahs with my request to take off, is to send them an email. That way, if they say no, I can cry by myself in my own office, instead of in one of theirs. (Kidding.) And, since Philly has been around for a long time (since the '50's, I think), I asked her for some advice regarding what I should say in my Email to the Padnahs.

She sent me the following Draft, and I don't know about you guys, but I think this one's a winner:

Dear Boss,

It kills me to have to say this, but I'm going to take some time off, specifically, the first week of September.

The very thought of being away from this place makes me anorexic, and at the same time, bulimic, but I guess that's not really your problem, is it?

My addiction to gambling supersedes all of my other addictions. Therefore, I am drawn to the two-dollar blackjack table on Fremont Street in Downtown Las Vegas with a force so strong that I could drink it like tequila.

I'm gonna need your blessing on this matter, no later than right now. Delta is holding my wing seat, where I have happily agreed to assist other drunks, should we go down mid-flight.

Make my day.

Love,
Candy

And....Send.

(Okay, not really.)

I have sent the Padnahs a slightly more appropriate email, though, and now I'm just waiting to hear back. Here's hoping they say yes!

Pill Poppers

I have to admit, I wasn't at all surprised to learn that Tennessee is the third most medicated state in the nation.

When I told Philly about it over the phone, she mistakenly thought I said "third most messiest state in the nation" (because I so often use double superlatives), to which she responded, "Oh, they must have come to my house!"

When I explained to her that I had actually said "most medicated," she responded, "Oh, they must have come to your house!"

They don't call me the Walking Pharmacy for nothing. (In my defense, the majority of my medications were prescribed right after my surgery, so I'm not currently taking them. During the week.)

I did find it kind of interesting, however, that ALL of the top five states (with the highest rates of drug prescriptions) are in the same geographic region:

1.West Virginia
2. Missouri
3. Tennessee
4. Alabama
5. Kentucky

I guess this means that Southerners are either a) crazier, or b) more sickly, than the rest of the country. Or maybe both.

Man Lesson

Any man who is worth his weight in gold knows that there is a way to say certain things to a woman, and a way not to say certain things to a woman. I'm referring here to "things" like compliments and come-ons.

If you're one of those men who doesn't know how to communicate properly, here is a short lesson, derived from a couple of real-life conversations I've had recently.

Conversation #1
What he said: "Those pictures of you are really flattering."
What he meant (I think): "You look beautiful in those pictures."
What it FELT like he said: "Wow, you look much better in those pictures than you actually look in person."
What he SHOULD have said: "You look beautiful in those pictures."

Conversation #2
What he said: "Why are you single?"
What he meant (I think): "How can somone as wonderful as you not be married, or at least in a committed relationship? How has no one snagged you yet???"
What it FELT like he said: "What's wrong with you? There must be something wrong with you, for you to be single at your age. Are you crazy? I bet you're crazy."
What he SHOULD have said: "How can someone as wonderful as you not be married, or at least in a committed relationship? How has no one snagged you yet???"

Incidentally, my response to the question, "Why are you single?":
"Because I haven't met anyone who makes my life better than it already is."

I have faith that he's out there.

What could be more fun...

than dancing barefoot in the moonlight, on the back of a boat, with a Corona in one hand and a cute guy's hand in the other?

I can't think of anything.

:)

Best Wedding Ever

This past weekend was LaToya's wedding weekend, and despite the fact that it was 147 degrees outside (and at least 180 degrees inside our limo, which apparently didn't have air conditioning), it was pretty much the best wedding ever.

The Rundown:

Friday

4:00 p.m.

Philly and I arrive in Nashville and check in at the Music City Sheraton. (Note: Philly had come along to visit Aunt JC, who had just had knee surgery at Vanderbilt Hospital and was still there recovering.) Almost immediately after checking in, I find out from LaToya's fiance "Zed" that my ride to the rehearsal dinner will be leaving in less than an hour. Shit! That leaves barely enough time for me to get ready, much less any time for pre-drinking at the hotel bar. I knew I should have packed airplane bottles.

5:00 p.m.
I'm riding with Zed's brother "Tyler" and his girlfriend to the church, and Tyler and I (having never met before) are engaging in small talk. I mention that it was actually me who introduced LaToya and Zed, back in 2003, when I was dating Zed's friend "Aubrey" (not an alias), and the two of us decided to set up our friends. Apparently, I fail to mention that Aubrey is a boy (not something I generally need to clarify), because Tyler spends the rest of the night assuming that I'm a lesbian. And, of course, being a guy, he is totally excited by this. (The confusion isn't cleared up until the next morning, when Tyler mentions something to Zed about LaToya's friend Candy being a lesbian, and Zed is all, "Since when???")

6:30 p.m.
After 30 minutes of wedding rehearsal with the most sarcastic priest I've ever met, I am really wishing I'd had those drinks at the bar. The groomsmen all certainly had theirs.

7:30 p.m.
It's finally time to eat, and by "eat," I mean drink. Bring on the wine. The food at the rehearsal dinner is delish, and after all of the toasts and stories, more than half of the group (the female half, mostly) is in tears. This may have something to do with the wine.

10:00 p.m.
We're back at the hotel, and now the Real Fun can begin. Note to self: Drinking copious amounts of Franzia and partying with the groomsmen until 2:00 a.m. does not make for a pretty next-morning, especially when you have to be "wedding-ready" before noon.

Saturday

8:30 a.m.
Thank God for Philly. And, for the French toast sticks and coffee she brings me from Burger King, which make me feel at least somewhat human, after getting only about six hours of sleep. I drag myself to the shower and start getting ready.

10:00 a.m.
The Fixing of the Hair begins. I have told Philly that I don't really care how my hair looks, I just want it off my neck. Which is going to be difficult, considering that it's not even really long enough for a ponytail. Step 1: Apply roughly half of a bottle of mousse. Step 2: Rollers. Step 3: Teasing. Step 4: Philly's Magic. Step 5: Spray entire bottle of hairspray. End result: Hairstyle straight out of the 60's. But, at least it's off my neck.

12:00 p.m.
I ride with the photographer (one of Zed's cousins) and Zed's sister over to LaToya's house, where all of the bridesmaids are gathering. Once we're all finally dressed and ready, we climb into the sauna, I mean limo, and head to the church.

2:00 p.m.
We've finished taking all of the pre-ceremony pictures and are now hiding out in a church classroom, while the groom, groomsmen, and guests arrive. Here are a couple of shots of LaToya and me, taken while we waited:

Isn't she a beautiful bride? Her dress was GORGEOUS.

3:00 p.m.
Show Time! As cheesy as this sounds, I am not able to keep from sobbing when LaToya walks down the aisle. Or, during the rest of the ceremony, for that matter. I am just so, so happy for my best friend.

5:00 p.m.
We arrive at the reception, which is being held at the hotel we're staying at. Here's a picture I snapped of LaToya and Zed as soon as we sat down...with the exception of the first and last dances, I think it's the only time I saw the two of them together at the reception (which, I thought, was kinda cool):


7:30 p.m.
LaToya's family knows how to throw one hell of a party. Thanks to the open bar, the booze is flowing, and there is never a time when the dance floor is not packed. See below:


You can hear it now, "Shout, a little bit softer now, shout, a little bit softer now...."

10:00 p.m.
Actually, I don't know what time it is. I'm definitely on my 27th glass of champagne. Which makes it even funnier when LaToya throws the bouquet and I, standing at the back of all of the single girls and focusing more on my drink than anything else, manage to catch it one-handed. Tee hee hee. LaToya's dad, who saw the whole thing, was convinced it was fate. Here's one last picture that I took, and as you can see, LaToya has changed into her "reception dress," which, in my opinion, was beautiful enough to be a wedding dress all by itself!


And me, holding a champagne glass? No surprise there.

12:00 a.m.
The reception finally winds down, which means one thing: After Party! Well, for those of us who weren't already passed out.

And that was the weekend! I woke up on Sunday morning, surprised at how not-hung over I was, only to find out a few hours later that my lack of hangover was probably due to the fact that I was still drunk. It definitely hit me on the way home!

All in all, a great weekend. Congratulations, LaToya and Zed!