Legally Brunette

Roommates 2.0

2012-01-31T12:07:00.007-05:00

As I sit here typing this (instead of returning calls, which is what I should be doing), Ron's in the next room playing The Eagles' New Kid in Town on the ole six-string. So, obviously, some things never change. (See: Ron, Activities.)

However, unlike two years ago, when I posted about the various responsibilities, activities, and pet peeves of the members of our household, Ron is no longer performing as a solo artist. He's now accompanied by Philly, on the ukelele.

And this is what I have to endure in order to avoid paying rent.

Because I'm still living with the 'rents and because some things do change, I've decided to write an updated "Roommates" post, which will probably make more sense to you if you read the original one, the link for which is provided above.

Philly

In charge of:
-Interior design (It's not unusual for Ron and I to come home to rooms that bear little resemblance to the rooms we left that morning.);
-Exterior design (It's widely known...among members of our household...that we have the best-looking front door in the neighborhood, and we have Philly to thank for that.);
-Motivation (By frequently pointing out our "problem areas," Philly has motivated both Ron and myself to begin running, and, not one to be left out, she has joined in on the effort. We'll be posting "after" pictures in our bikinis and Speedos in a few months, so make sure and check back.).

Activities:
-Strumming the ole four-string (And apparently she's not the only one: we were informed by employees of Guitar Center during the Christmas season that ukeleles were selling like hotcakes.);
-Law & Order: SVU marathons (Is it ever not on?);
-Touring America, one casino at a time.

Pissed off by:
-The stench of Ron's cigars;
-The stench of gently-used cat litter;
-Republican candidates.

Ron

In charge of:
-Financing Philly's extreme home makeovers;
-Keeping fridge stocked with beer;
-Lawn care (And let me just say, that ever since he discovered that he could smoke a cigar while he does yard work, our lawn is pristine.).

Activities:
-Golf and guitar (which would be an excellent idea for a new magazine, from the publishers of Garden and Gun);
-Eating Chef Boyardee (No one around here can figure out why this man consumes so much canned ravioli.);
-Words with Friends (And Ron has a LOT of friends with words.).

Pissed off by:
-Nothing (that we really care about).

Candy

In charge of:
-Scooping shit (Dolly's, not Philly's and Ron's);
-Making plans (whenever plans need to be made);
-Defending youngsters (on a more-or-less volunteer basis).

Activities:
-Hanging out with Buzz, 7/3 (That's seven hours a day, three days a week. And who's Buzz? He's...Luanne's boyfriend! [Sorry, quick Shag reference.] Actually, he's MY boyfriend! Which means I did really well with my big dating hiatus. But more on that later.)
-Daily polio naps (You can never be too vigilant in protecting against this potentially debilitating disease.)
-Live team trivia (I have really, really smart friends.).

Pissed off by:
-Cat that requires more attention than most toddlers;
-Laundry that, despite being told numerous times, refuses to do itself;
-Newsfeed (just, in general, these days).

Same Shit, Different Year

2011-08-15T11:14:00.009-04:00

I couldn't very well END this blog with a post about how I cheated my way through 7th grade math, could I???

So, I'm back. Another year older yet none the wiser. Still practicing the kind of law that pays peanuts and still living with my parents. A real success story.

I spent some time thinking about what my readers (should any of them decide to check back in) would want to know about the last year, and I decided that, even though most of my readers were (and I guess still are) men, y'all ALWAYS loved hearing about the extensive array of losers I managed to seek out and date. Call me cynical, but I believe there may have been some schadenfreude going on.

Thus, I have compiled a list of all of the dudes I've gone out with during the last year, or at least all of the ones I can remember without exerting too much effort. I figure that if my miserable dating life ends up providing some sort of entertainment for a few folks, then at least it won't have been in vain.

#1: Larry Dave

I dated Larry Dave from June 2010 until...well, until recently. But we were never serious. If you're at all familiar with Larry David (Curb Your Enthusiasm), then you know why. Once, when I showed up at LD's apartment complex pool wearing, God forbid, a one-piece bathing suit, he announced to everyone there (and to my horror and dismay) that I must have thought it was the nineteen-fucking-fifties. Such a sweetheart, that Larry Dave.

Of course, I can't really say that our failure to launch into a full-on relationship was entirely LD's fault; there was that one time we were at SouthBound together and I made out with the cutest 22-year-old right in front of him, but that's neither here nor there. I can't be responsible for what happens after a couple of shots of Jager.

I'd also like to mention that LD was the last smoker that I've dated, as I quit smoking shortly after we started seeing each other and haven't smoked since. It's been a year and two months!!!

#2: The Pilot

This was more of a long-distance type thing, due to his profession and the fact that he only flew to Knoxville every few weeks. It was a fun little affair (and no, he was NOT married), albeit somewhat shallow. But, I did finally get my wings.

#3: The Russian

I've been known to peruse the Craigslist personal ads, mostly to look for myself as someone's Missed Connection (it hasn't happened yet, but I'm almost positive I'll see "Cute blonde in the black Mazda CX-7 picking her nose on Pellissippi Parkway" one of these days), but occasionally also to look at the Men Seeking Women ads. Don't judge.

Although this usually only serves to make me loathe the opposite gender, there have been exactly two times that I have found an ad worth replying to, and both times, said replies have resulted in dates. The first guy was nice but unbearably boring and didn't earn a spot on this list, mostly because I can't even remember his name. The second guy was The Russian.

The Russian was delightfully similar to me in personality, but also, unfortunately, in height. Call me shallow, but I really prefer a man who has a few inches on me. And yes, I realize how dirty that sentence sounds. I think what I liked most about The Russian was that he told me over and over how incredibly Jewish I seem, and given my near-obsession with the Chosen People, I took this as a total compliment.

#4: Joe Dirt

Philly has attempted to set me up with men two times this year, and Joe Dirt was the first. The initial red flag was that, upon meeting for our blind date, I recognized him as a friend of my friend LaToya's husband, which meant that we'd both been at LaToya's wedding and several other social gatherings. He, apparently, had found me to be extremely forgettable.

Also: Joe was an excavator. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But, when he consistently complained that I talked about work too much (which, I didn't), I had to stop myself from saying: "Well, I can't help it that what I do is slightly more interesting than moving DIRT." Moving right along....

#5: The Bodybuilder

Philly's second attempt at setting me up was another...interesting experience. The Bodybuilder was a car salesman she met while car shopping a few months ago, and while he was very nice to look at, he was, as most car salesmen tend to be, rather full of shit. Also, as much as I appreciate some nice muscles, anyone who goes to the gym seven days a week is either entirely too vain or sleeping with someone there, most likely another dude.

It only a took a few dates for us both to figure out that we weren't very interested in each other (I'm sure he wasn't impressed with my lack of gym-going); however, I was extremely impressed with myself on one of our dates, during which I picked up not one but two other men, one of whom I went out with the very next weekend. So, I have The Bodybuilder to thank for that.

#6: Brutus Buckeye

Flash forward to the very next weekend. Brutus was a recent transplant from...you guessed it, Ohio. And I'm probably gonna piss off some people by saying this, but I have NEVER been a fan of people from Ohio. My disdain for Ohioans dates back to college, where there was a certain contingency from Cincinnati whom I found to be particularly obnoxious. Later encounters have only solidified my belief that, in terms of residents, Ohio is truly the armpit of America.

So, when I met Brutus and we immediately hit it off (despite the fact that he rooted for Ohio State, ugh), I was shocked. After our first date, I even came home and told Philly that I was pretty sure he was going to be my next boyfriend. Brutus apparently didn't feel the same way, at least not for long. After our third date in two weeks, he never asked me out again. I can't say I wasn't disappointed, but Brutus definitely made me more right about Ohioans than I already was.

#7: Andy Tin Roof (a.k.a. The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back)

Andy Tin Roof (which is how he's listed in my phone) was the other guy I managed to pick up while on my date with The Bodybuilder. We texted back and forth a few times, but I quickly lost interest after he asked me send him a picture of myself. Sorry, dude. Not into that. It also kind of creeped me out (but, I'm not gonna lie, also intrigued me) that, when I told him to add me as a friend on Facebook, he said he wasn't on Facebook, "because he didn't want people to know his business." Hmmmm.

After a few weeks of not hearing from ATR, I received a text from him again last week. He wanted to know if I wanted to meet for drinks on Friday at 5. Sure, I can do that. I had already planned to take the afternoon off and go to the pool, but I could leave the pool by 3:30 or so, get ready, and be out by 5. I was dying to know what this dude's story was.

At 4:53, as I was just about to walk out the door (the place we were meeting is close to home), I got a text: "I got called out of town. Not going to make it. Sorry, sugar. We'll catch up soon."

Okay, first of all: Don't call me sugar. You don't even know me. Second of all: That story is bullshit. And third: Even if you did have to go out of town, I'm sure you could have told me more than seven minutes before our scheduled meeting time. I mean, for God's sake, I'd left the POOL for this crap.

And that was it. The straw that broke the camel's back. The next morning, I announced via Facebook status (which, obviously, means it's set in stone) that I'm taking a dating hiatus. For at least a few months. I just don't want to deal with any more disappointment for a while.

Naturally, the very night of my big announcement, I went out for drinks with a friend I've known for years and years, and he confessed that he wants to date me. I told him to call me in January.

A True Confession

2010-08-03T23:05:00.007-04:00

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; it’s been 27 years since my last confession.

Okay, so I’m not really Catholic (hence the lack of Reconciliation). However, I did go to Catholic school for six years and am therefore somewhat familiar with the sacraments.

And if I were Catholic, I would have made this confession long ago. But since I’m not, I’m going to make it right now. I’m comin’ clean.

When I was in first grade, my teacher, Mrs. Pucker (cutest name ever), noticed that I was able to do certain things that a lot of the other first graders (apparently) couldn’t do, like reading and telling time. So, it was decided that Little Candy would go to the second grade for a couple of hours each day for Reading and Math. (This was a small Catholic school, so they didn’t have an accelerated program. Also: I guess I was the only accelerated child, because I don’t remember anyone else coming with me.)

Naturally, the next year, when I was actually in second grade, I had to go to third grade for Reading and Math, and so on, until I reached sixth grade. (And let me just say that the kids in the grade above me were NEVER nice to me. I’m still pissed about it.) When I got to sixth grade, the sixth and seventh grade teachers decided that it was too much trouble to coordinate their schedules so that sixth and seventh grade Reading and Math were at the same time (because, without coordinated schedules, I would have run the risk of missing out on a real subject, like Gym). So…I guess I just repeated sixth grade Reading (because, really, by that point, I doubt I was ahead of the other students anymore), but the kicker was Math: I was asked to teach myself seventh grade Math.

Seriously. During Math, I would sit in a corner by myself and “do homework,” and then, when I was sufficiently satisfied that I had learned all of the material in a chapter, I would take the test. Which meant that I would carry the teacher’s manual down to the office and make a copy of the chapter test, and then I would bring it back to the classroom and take it. And then I would grade it.

And during that whole school year, there was not one test that I didn’t cheat on. Sure, I would honestly complete the test, but when it came time to grade it (which, by the way, who the hell gives an eleven-year-old this much freedom???), I would mark exactly two or three answers wrong every time (so it wouldn’t raise suspicion), and then I would proudly present my grade of 94 or 96 to my teacher and announce that I was ready to begin the next chapter.

I never told anyone what I was doing.

But, despite all that monkey business, I did actually learn some math that year. I know this because, when I transferred to public school in seventh grade (because we had moved across town, and my parents felt that I had gotten everything out of private school that I needed…in other words, they were sick of paying for it), I took a test (which I didn't also grade) and qualified for eighth grade (or, accelerated) Math. But I still felt pretty ashamed of all the cheating and lying I’d done.

So, sixteen years later, I’d just like to say: I’m sorry, Mrs. Jenkinson. If I were Catholic, I would certainly do penance for my sin.

There, I feel better now.

Hello Dolly

2010-07-20T20:07:00.005-04:00

Meet the newest member of our household, Dolly Pawton:

Of course, her "street name" will just be Dolly. But I wanted to make it (painfully) clear who she's named after. And also that I'm extremely corny.

I picked Dolly up from the animal shelter after work yesterday (we'd adopted her on Friday, but they had to spay and vaccinate her), and from the time I picked her up until, oh, about 11:30 p.m., she was a perfect angel. She followed us around the house and sat with us on the couch, and at about 9:30, she fell into a deep, deep sleep on my lap.

When I was ready to go to bed, I took her to my bedroom with me, thinking (erroneously) that she would just fall asleep again.

And that's when Dolly turned into a Gremlin. A crazy-eyed, biting, DEMONIC little Gremlin.

Things she attempted to destroy with her vicious fangs: my clothes, my shoes, my bedspread, my hands, my arms.... Those baby teeth may be small, but they are SHARP. And determined.

I could not get the little bitch to calm (the fuck) down. At some point I gave up and went to sleep, praying she wouldn't do anything too destructive.

And despite the fact that I'm almost positive I fell asleep on my side, when I woke up a few hours later, I was lying on my back with a little ball of fur curled up on my chest. Angelic as could be.

Until about five this morning, when The Gremlin reappeared.

No more feedings after midnight.

Postscript:

I've already told Dolly I love her. Too soon?

Also: Why can't kittens stay kittens? They are the perfect size, and they have the sweetest little baby meows. Is this how parents feel about their children???

Finally: I just found THIS on Dolly's Facebook wall (which explains the poor behavior last night):

Looks like she's gonna fit in here purrrrfectly.

Just Another Average Wednesday Night*

2010-07-07T22:42:00.007-04:00

Well, I can now officially say that I've been iced.

Kudos to Bud, who got me pretty good. He had come over to the house to eat dinner with Philly and me tonight (my charitable contribution for the week), and when he arrived, he casually picked up the latest issue of Esquire, which had just arrived in the mail and was sitting on the kitchen counter. As I turned to look in the freezer for some frozen veggies, he asked, "have you read this article yet?" And when I turned around...ICED. With a 24-ounce bottle, no less. That's pretty hardcore.

By the time we finished eating, I was still working on that damn Smirnoff Ice (I amended the kneeling rule, since it was dinner time and all), so when we finished the dishes and went outside to sit on the patio for a few mintues, I had to take the stupid drink (which, at this point, was starting to make me rather ill) outside with me.

Point of reference: Fred the Dog has been escaping the backyard a lot lately, ever since the guys who built the new patio somehow managed to cut the underground fence, rendering it inoperable. AND, Fred is so old and gnarled (seriously, that's the perfect word for it) that when he begins wandering down the street, people assume he's hurt (e.g., that he's been hit by a car), so they pick him up and take him to the vet. And THEN, we get calls from the Bluegrass Animal Hospital, asking us to PLEASE COME AND PICK UP FRED. This is pretty much a daily occurrence. Also, Fred is deaf. And mostly blind.

Okay, back to the story. So, we'd just walked outside to sit on the deck, and we realized that, surprise surprise, Fred was gone. Without thinking about the fact that I was still carrying an oversized bottle of malt beverage, I walked around the house and out into the street, where I spotted Fred, heading toward an open garage door a few houses down. When he turned around and spotted me (he's always looking over his little doggie shoulder to see if anyone's coming after him), I began doing the only thing I could do to get him to come home, which was my now-perfected "you get back in this house right NOW, dammit" hand gesture, accompanied by my long-ago-perfected Mean Face. (Remember, Fred's deaf. And this method actually works.)

So, there I was, standing in the middle of the road, with a gigantic Smirnoff Ice in one hand, while my other hand was emphatically pointing at the dog and then pointing toward the house.

I'm sure the neighbors just love us.

Shortly thereafter, Fred made his way back to the house and trotted into the garage, where he promptly ran smack dab into a recently emptied cardboard box that Philly had put out there for Ron to break down and throw away. As pitiful as it was, I couldn't help but laugh as I pictured Fred, in his little doggie head, thinking, who the FUCK put that there?

*This post title refers to one of my favorite posts Philly ever wrote, which you can find here. (It also involves Bud. And me living with my parents. Wow, what a difference three and a half years makes! [She says, sarcastically.])

Little Missies.

2010-06-24T23:26:00.004-04:00

I hope y'all think THIS is as funny as I think it is.

I was literally in tears.

Some of you might remember that I, too, used to have a cat named Missy. A few minutes ago, while Chico and I were chatting on Facebook, I asked him whether I had ever told him about poor lil' Missy and her tragic end. The following ensued:

Chico: Is that the one your neighbor ran over, and your parents told you she had been catnapped?

Candy: No, that was Ruby.

Chico: Is it the one who tried to eat you?

Candy: No, that was Boudleaux. And that was a DOG.

Chico: Wait, now I remember Missy. When I helped you moved out of your apartment, you produced what looked like part of her ear from a box.

Candy: That wasn't an EAR, it was a tuft of hair that I'd saved as a memento.

Chico: [No response.]

Candy: Yeah, that does sound kind of weird. Probably should have just saved some pictures of her.

Romance Redefined.

2010-06-13T21:56:00.004-04:00

Chico and I did some marathon drinkin' this weekend. Fo' real, yo.

Actually, I didn't intend to spend so much of my Saturday inebriated, but after suffering through nearly two hours of what appeared to be complete and utter chaos on the TV (also known as "the U.S.-England World Cup soccer match"), I was READY for a margarita or two. (Or five.)

And today's stifling humidity simply REQUIRED cold beers by the pool.

Anyhoo, what I wanted to share with y'all was something that Chico said yesterday, which might possibly be the coolest thing I've ever heard a dude say.

We were chatting about weddings and bachelor/bachelorette parties and engagement rings, and how the whole shebang is just a COMPLETE waste of hard-earned money, and Chico says: "You know what I think is a MUCH more romantic gesture than buying a girl a big diamond? Paying off her student loans."

You know what? I so, totally, 100% agree.

College Life

2010-06-09T18:47:00.005-04:00

I've never been much of a scrapbooker; in fact, since I started using digital cameras, I rarely even print my pictures anymore. However, when I was in college, I was all about putting pictures in frames and albums (what college girl isn't?), and I even bought a pre-made scrapbook/journal called College Life that you could just paste your own pictures into. (Much easier than buying all that scrapbooking crap they sell at the store. You can't spell scrapbook without crap!)

Shortly after I graduated, I spent many hours filling this book with stories and pictures, and I've had a great time over the past several years, pulling it out every once and a while to reminisce. I thought y'all might get a kick out of a few of the pages, so I've scanned them in. Enjoy (a little of) Candy's college life. Or don't.

Freshman year roommate:

Why I look so much BIGGER in these pictures:

The Fab Five:

Two Words

2010-06-06T19:02:00.004-04:00

I can sum up in two words why I don't mind being 27 and still single:

Making Out.

Nothin' like a good makeout session on a Saturday night.

(Yeah yeah, I know. TMI.)

Working from Home Today. Thank God.

2010-06-03T13:27:00.003-04:00

Newsflash: There are two SHIRTLESS twenty-something guys dismantling our back deck right now. And they'll be rebuilding a new one over the next several days.

AND...it's really hot and sunny outside, so the (VERY LARGE) muscles on their backs and arms are all tan and glisten-y.

Have I mentioned how happy I am to be working from home today?

During lunch (which I, of course, ate at the kitchen table, where I had an excellent view of the deck), I felt like Samantha in the first Sex and the City movie (the one that didn't suck), in that scene where she's watching her sexy next door neighbor and stuffing chips and guacamole in her mouth. "I eat so I won't cheat." (Except that, unlike Samantha, I have no one to cheat on.)

Normally my "home office" is the Bird's Nest (formerly known as the bonus room), but I think I may have to set up camp at the kitchen table this afternoon. Although I don't know how I'll concentrate.

Did I mention the muscles?

Chance Encounter

2010-05-31T03:02:00.009-04:00

Well, I have finally determined who the infamous "Pinto" (one of my perennial commenters) is.

I met Chico at Aubrey's this evening for drinks, and when I arrived, I was approached by someone who asked if I was "the lawyer who has the blog."

To be perfectly honest, I've been waiting for years for that to happen (i.e., for someone to recognize me in person from my blog), but unfortunately, my first "chance encounter" didn't turn out to be as exciting as I had hoped.

As it turns out, Pinto is an older gentleman, somewhat obese (morbidly, actually), with adult onset acne and a nervous tic. Worst of all, he had a popped collar. I nearly fell out of my chair.

This totally explains why his comments are always so effing BITTER.

In any event, it was nice (read: creepy) to meet someone who knew so much about me (and also to put a [hideous] face with a name).

And, Pinto: Philly says she is willing to play golf or tennis anytime. Bring your own booze.

Busy-ness as Usual

2010-05-13T11:18:00.003-04:00

The past several days have been a little more hectic than usual; I finished up my first semester of teaching last week (which meant that I spent many hours grading finals and tallying up final grades), and this week I'm trying to get a lot of "lawyer stuff" done (that's a very technical term), because next week I'll be at the beach.

Although I'm happy to have a break from teaching for a few months (they asked me back for the fall, woo-hoo!), I was sad to say goodbye to my students, whom I won't be having in class again (because both semesters next year I'll be teaching classes they've already taken). I truly could not have asked for a better group of students to have for my first semester of professor-dom. They were hard-working, understanding (of my new-ness), kind, and funny as hell.

And for the most part they liked me, as evidenced by the (anonymous!) results I just received from the college's Student Perception of Faculty surveys. I did have one student who apparently thought I was about as effective as a hippopotamus at teaching legal writing, but hey, you can't please everybody. And by "everybody," I mean, people who are probably failing your class.

Overall, however, the ratings and comments were positive. By far the best comment I received: Good use of cardigans.

Stay tuned for next semester, when I'll be featuring vests.

Making Home Renovation FUN

2010-05-03T09:22:00.011-04:00

Philly has been painting the kitchen walls (and a little bit of the ceiling, door frames, floor, her clothes, etc.), and now that she's pretty much done with that, she's going around all of the edges and caulking, so that the finished project looks, well, finished.

Naturally, we've been exploiting the similarity of the word "caulk" to another c-word (...c*ck), which (apparently) amuses us to no end.

For instance, when Ron called the other day and asked what Philly was doing, I replied, oh, she's at Lowe's looking for caulk....

And last night Philly informed me that it is so hard to wash the caulk off of her.

What can I say, we love caulk.

People All Over the World...Join Hands

2010-05-02T00:44:00.005-04:00

Last week, while I was at the Rossini Festival with my friends "Eddie and the Boozers," one of the Boozers, Ed (different from Eddie), told me that I absolutely must watch Episode 52 of Soul Train, which is On Demand right now if you have Comcast. (It's under Music.) He assured me that I wouldn't regret it.

I totally forgot about that conversation (no surprise there, since I was on my 4th or 5th glass of wine when it happened), until tonight, when I saw a Comcast ad for Soul Train On Demand. Luckily, Philly was still awake (this is the kind of thing that needs to be shared), and we decided to check it out.

Holy shit. I'm obsessed.

If you watch this show and don't develop a whole new appreciation for the song Love Train, then you clearly have no soul. (Get it? Soul? Hehehe.)

This post has been brought to you by Afro Sheen.

Would You Like Cleaner With That?

2010-04-27T18:21:00.004-04:00

I got stuck in Blount County juvenile court for several hours longer than I had planned on being there today, because my dang client couldn't manage to squeeze out a few drops for her pee test before the court recessed for lunch. So, although I had hoped to be home by noon, I instead found myself grabbing a quick lunch in Maryville before I had to be back in court at 1:30.

I decided on Arby's. After getting my food and 37 paper thimbles of ketchup, I sat down to enjoy a nice roast beef sammich and curly fries. I had barely taken my first bite, however, when I noticed an employee getting dangerously close to me with his spray bottle of cleaner, which he was using to wipe down empty tables. When I actually felt the mist hit me (and not just a little bit), I became annoyed. And not just a little bit.

Now, if I were more like my mother, I'd have let that dumbshit know exactly how I felt about him and his f*cking spray bottle, and I'd have asked to speak to the manager, who likely would have refunded my meal and given me $20 in Arby-Q coupons. Unfortunately, I'm not like my mother, and the only thing I managed to say was, "you GOT me with that." "Sorry," he mumbled in reply. Although I was steaming inside, I kept my mouth shut and continued eating (despite the fact that my food may or may not have been toxic at that point).

Philly always says that I'll get more assertive (read: aggressive) with age, but who knows. For now, I'm stuck with mentally bitching people out. Although it would have been nice to at least get a Jamocha shake out of the situation.

Rub, Cuss, Cry, Repeat.

2010-04-23T17:22:00.007-04:00

Actual (and disturbing) Facebook chat:

Candy: Kenny just IMed me and told me that he loves me and misses me. FREAK!

Chico: You should defriend him.

Candy: And lose the ability to Facebook stalk? Never! I'm just annoyed that he would say that to me when it's CLEARLY not true. I think it was a pathetic attempt to get me to say that I love and miss him too. Like, to boost his ego or something.

Chico: I GUARANTEE you that he mast*rbates to you, then cusses you out, then cries about you, and then repeats the cycle. He's a loser. I know those guys. That's what they do.

Candy: Gross.

Chico: True, but I'm sure of it. I know dudes.

Candy: I so want to post that as my Facebook status, but I won't.

[Instead I'll blog about it.]

Chico: Haha. Every guy goes through a stage like that. I did. Most guys grow out of it. Some don't. I bet he didn't.

Candy: You've done those things??? Don't admit that to anyone else.

Chico: High school. Geez. Give an insecure teenager a break.

Candy: I can't decide whether to laugh or throw up.

She's Just Not That Into Him.

2010-03-29T21:32:00.003-04:00

From the moment I met "Caesar," I knew he was wrong for me. Dealbreaker #1 was the following conversation among him, my sister, and me (which took place only minutes after I met him):

Caesar: I drank my very first margarita tonight.

Jenny and Candy (simultaneously): You've NEVER had a margarita???

Caesar: Well, I don't like to get out of my comfort zone very much.

Jenny: And what is that?

Caesar: Strawberry daiquiris.

Jenny and Candy: [Silence....]

But...he was a persistent little fucker. He liked me, and he made no bones about it. After only the second time hanging out (as a group again, per my preference), I received the following text message:

I'm not gonna beat around the bush. Do you want to date?

My response:

I'd like to see you again, but I'm definitely not ready to go steady!

I was trying to be nice.

There were several more dealbreakers along the (short) way, but the final straw came last night, again in the form of a text message.

Him: What's your favorite color?

Me: What are we, 12?

Him: I'm just trying to get to know you better.

Oh dear. This will never work.

I broke it off shortly thereafter (approximately 20 minutes later), using the tried-and-true "I'm just not ready to date right now."

Lame, I know. Which is why I didn't wait.

Incidentally, my favorite color is orange. Like my blood.

Also, I don't care what anyone says, I LIKE Steely Dan.

Sizing Up Matters

2010-03-24T22:28:00.005-04:00

My friend Chico recently provided some insight as to why men are less competitive with each other than women are. Now, before you go and get your panties in a wad ("Men are SO much more competitive than women!!!"), I'm not talking about the pick-up basketball/poker/fantasy football kind of competitive. I'm talking about the kind of competitive that involves constantly sizing up members of your own gender to determine if they are prettier, skinnier, or better dressed than you are.

According to Chico, the reason that men don't do this is that (and I quote), "unless a guy is just really, really unfortunate-looking, I pretty much have no idea how attractive he is."

Girls, on the other hand: we can size each other up in no time at all. Bud used to joke that I was a lesbian, when he would see my eyes go from a girl's head to the ground and back up again at least twice in three seconds. (Clearly, I was just checking out her hair, clothes, and shoes.)

I'm wondering if other guys agree with Chico. Do y'all size each other up? And if you do, how well can you tell whether another man is attractive?

I think it's some sort of evolutionary thing that we women are the way we are, but I sure wish it weren't like that. We'd all be such better friends if we could just stop comparing ourselves to one another.

Roommates

2010-03-03T21:26:00.015-05:00

When you live with roommates, it's essential that everyone in the household comes to a few understandings. For instance: How will you divide up the responsibilities? (Or: Who's in charge of what?) Also: What are each roommate's interests and hobbies, and how will they affect the other members of the household? (Or: Activities.) And finally: What are each roommate's pet peeves? (Or: What pisses each roommate off?)

In our household, it's like this:

Philly

In charge of:
-Maintaining current subscription to Esquire (essential reading);
-Ensuring that roommates always have free nights in Tunica (essential travel);
-Being sounding board for other roommates;
-Cutting and highlighting hair (namely, Candy's and her own...and she's surprisingly good at it!).

Activities:
-General craftiness (or, as she refers to it: her "projects");
-Experimental baking (note to self: never eat anything that is described as "the middle part, which turned out okay");
-Watching late-night religious programs on TV and alternating between states of amusement and disgust (and then blogging about it).

Pissed off by:
-Ron breaking things (somewhat regular occurrence);
-Candy sneaking outside to smoke cigarettes (very regular occurrence);
-Dog, who "has no redeeming qualities" (actual quote).

Ron

In charge of:
-Being the anchorman that he was born to be;
-Rent ("mortgage");
-Grocery shopping.

Activities:
-Daily golf game (despite subzero temperatures);
-Covering songs in the living room (lately: Janis Joplin, James Taylor, The Eagles...and if I have to hear In My Life one more time....);
-Facebooking.

Pissed off by:
-Heavy rain;
-Snow.

Candy

In charge of:
-Law practice (still flying solo...and from home);
-Repurposing leftovers (i.e., making pasta dishes out of whatever's in the fridge);
-Cleaning out the spare bedroom (Candy FAIL);
-Texting Philly when too drunk to drive home and therefore spending the night on someone's couch (so she doesn't worry).

Activities:
-Grading papers (update: I'm working as an adjunct professor at one of the local community colleges now, and this semester I'm teaching two different classes...which means I have a LOT of papers to grade);
-Jillian Michaels's 30 Day Shred (which I amended to the "90 Day Shred," because I'm in no hurry to be...shredded);
-Making and remaking To Do Lists (because some things never change).

Pissed off by:
-Being disturbed during slumber;
-"No food in this damn house."

P.S. I've had a request for an update on my love life. Well...it's currently nonexistent. I haven't been on a date in more than three months. I guess I should remove "serial dater" from my description of myself....

French Fried Love

2010-02-27T16:09:00.007-05:00

Not long ago I was out with my friend Midge and her new boyfriend "Mitch" (Midge & Mitch, Mitch & Midge, isn't it fun to say?), and I witnessed the cutest thing. M & M were splitting a basket of fries, and I noticed that Midge was setting the "end" fries (the ones with the peel and the pointy ends) to the side of the basket. Not a big fan of the end pieces?, I asked. It's not that, she replied, those are just Mitch's favorites, so I set them aside for him.

I smiled (sentimentally), remembering that Bud used to do the same for me, with the fries that had the most seasoning.

If that ain't love, I don't know what is.

Obsessed and Obligated

2010-02-17T00:28:00.003-05:00

Have you ever started doing something (a hobby, for instance), and although it started out being fun, at some point you became kind of obsessed with it, and then it became more of an obligation? (As I typed that, I imagined my male readers thinking, yes! Pourn!)

A few years ago (wow, it's weird to say that about 2007), in order to become a better card player (and also to be social), I began playing in free Texas Hold'em tournaments at a couple of local bars. One of those bars (Bailey's) held poker tournaments twice a week, and although it was great to win any particular tournament (I think you got food comps or something), it was also really good to show up fairly regularly, because the folks who ran the poker "league" kept track of how well each player did, and at the end of a certain number of weeks, the top 50 or so players got to play in the Final Tournament, the prize for which was a trip to Vegas. At some point, my rank among the players was pretty high, and it was at that point that I became somewhat obsessed. Meaning: I could NOT miss poker on Sunday and Tuesday nights, because I wasn't about to let my rank fall. And that was when it became an obligation. It wasn't fun anymore.

The same kind of thing happened recently, only this time, it wasn't so much a hobby as it was, well, a TV show. Let me explain. For a couple of seasons a couple of years ago, I was a pretty big fan of the show Grey's Anatomy. I watched it every week and was even known to start a few conversations with, can you believe what happened on Grey's last night??? I'm ashamed to admit that.

However, once I discovered the wonderfulness that is The Office (which aired at the same time as Grey's), I never looked back. (It didn't help that during that particular season, the writers of Grey's kinda lost me when one of the characters started seeing a dead guy. As it turned out, that character had a brain tumor and was hallucinating, and if I just spoiled the surprise, my bad.) (And yes, I was totally late in jumping on The Office bandwagon, but I have definitely made up for lost time, thanks to TBS running, like, 47 straight hours of reruns every Tuesday night. But anyway.)

Wow, I sound like such a couch potato. Only because I am.

A couple of months ago (shortly after I moved in with my current roommates--Philly and Ron), I noticed that Lifetime (which I was clearly watching because it's television for women) was airing Grey's Anatomy reruns every night between 6 and 9. And at that particular time, they just happened to be showing the season where I had left off. So, I began DVR-ing the three episodes that aired each night (yes, I realize that DVR-ing is not meant to be a verb like Tivo-ing, but oh well), and whenever I was bored, I would sit and watch my recorded Grey's. Philly began joining me, on her respective couch. (We each have our own sofa in the bonus room, which we recently began referring to as The Birds' Nest. We need new hobbies.)

When we got to the end of the "new" episodes (at least, the newest ones in syndication), Philly and I continued to DVR the show each night and began watching it from the beginning. And it was then that it became somewhat of an obligation. There were certain days that we were too busy to watch any Grey's, so on the days when we weren't busy, we would end up watching 4 or 5 episodes in a row, just to clean out the DVR and make room for new ones. (And also because we had what is called an addiction.) It was taking up the majority of our free time, and we couldn't stop.

Until last week. We finally made it through the entire show and were back to where we had started. Thank goodness.

In the meantime, we have become completely involved in the lives of the Grey's characters, to the point that we've had lengthy conversations about their various strengths and weaknesses. We hate Izzie. We love Christina. And we think Derek is kind of shitty.

We've also adopted some of the Grey's lingo; for instance, instead of saying that someone is crazy, we say that he or she needs a psych consult. We frequently point out that, instead of laying on the couch, we should be doing rounds. And we constantly ask each other, are you okay? (which, if you've every watched the show, you know is something they ask each other a lot).

We definitely need a psych consult.

P.S. I know that I haven't blogged in ages, and this post doesn't really tell y'all what I've been up to for the last few months (besides watching TV), but I will say this: my life is soooo different right now than it was this time last year. Or even six months ago. I promise I'll share more soon.

Hot Topics

2010-01-18T12:56:00.008-05:00

Events occurring in the last week or so have given bloggers (and Facebook status updaters...and Twitterers, I'd imagine) a lot to weigh in on. The three blog posts (and status updates...but not tweets, 'cause I'm a conscientious objector) that I've been seeing again and again are: 1) lists of ways to help earthquake victims in Haiti; 2) commentary on the late-night talk show drama going on at NBC; and 3) rhetorical hate mail aimed at former UT football coach Lane Kiffin, who up and left us during the all-important recruiting season.

Here's my take:

I don't have much to add to the Haiti discussion. People should help if they can. Apparently George Clooney has organized a telethon to raise money for the victims. If he really wanted to raise a lot of money, why didn't he just get all of his fellow Golden Globe-attendees to write checks last night? I'm pretty sure James Cameron has a few bucks to spare.

As for the Jay/Conan situation: I think it's time for Jay to move on. Find a new home on a cable network. Maybe do a show that combines his two passions, humor and old cars. He could be, like, the Anthony Bourdain of classic automobiles. No Seatbelts.

Regarding Runaway Lane: Look, I never liked Kiffin. When I watched him on The Lane Kiffin Show on Sunday mornings, he reminded me of a kid who hates school and only shows up because he has to. And he always had a "who farted" look on his face. I already like Derek Dooley a whole lot more, even if he was UT's fifth choice.

My last topic isn't really "hot," but it's interesting to me: The Golden Globe Awards. Here are a few thoughts I jotted down during the show last night (and also during the red carpet pre-show):

I think we all agree that Tina Fey is hilarious. Her Sarah Palin impression is one of the best in history. But someone needs to help Ms. Fey pick out her awards show dresses. She seems to have bad taste.

Why did Tea Leoni wear an outfit to the Golden Globes that I would wear to work?

I really couldn't decide whether to give the coveted "Tits McGee Award" to Christina Hendricks or Mariah Carey. It was such a close race.

However, if there were a "Shoes McGee Award," it would definitely go to Kate Hudson. And her 8-inch heels.

Philly and I thought Ricky Gervais was delightful. We laughed out loud numerous times. I especially liked his introduction of Mel Gibson. Hehehe.

I'm so happy that Michael C. Hall finally won for his leading role on Dexter! (AND that his cancer is in remission.) I was also happy to see John Lithgow win for his supporting role this season. Both are deserved.

Seriously, did everyone wear black this year? I expected it from Jennifer Aniston (she always wears black) and some of the older women, but this was a little ridiculous. Julia Roberts's dress certainly left something to be desired. And Cher looked like she was on her way to a BDSM dungeon.

I guess I should start watching this show Glee. (It won for best TV Series-Comedy/Musical.)

Was Sandra Bullock's hair supposed to look like that? Did she have a quickie in the limo on her way to the show and it fell down? I don't get it.

I guess I'm going to have to break down and go see Avatar. Because, apparently, I'm the only one who hasn't.

Year in Review

2009-12-30T17:32:00.003-05:00

Facebook has an application that allows you to create a collage of your "Year in Status Updates" and post it on your Wall. I tried to make one, but I could only fit a few of my updates on it, and that just wasn't good enough for me. So, I printed the page that showed all of my 2009 status updates, and I'm going to make my own "collage" (okay, list) from that. Don't worry, I'm not going to post all of them. Just my favorites.

Candy's Year in Status Updates:

January

Candy feels the need. The need for tweed.

Candy is lookin' for love in all the wrong places.

Candy works hard for the money. So you better treat her right.

February

Candy is not a fan of the billable hour.

Hee hee: http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-stein13-2009feb13,0,2753621.column

Candy thinks hell is a place where there are no Nachos Bell Grande.

March

Candy just finished reading Diablo Cody's Candy Girl. It was pretty good. I like the title.

Candy is enjoying the sliver of sunshine she can see from her dungeon. I mean, office.

April

Candy totally fell for it. Definitely just called the zoo and asked for Mr. Lyon.

Candy is thinking about the year she got a Wynona cassette in her Easter basket. Best Easter basket ever.

Candy is amused by the mass email she got at work regarding "Toilet Seat Dribbles" (actual subject line of email).

Candy is NEVER going to win the lottery if she doesn't start playing it more often.

May

Candy is broke and sunburned. Effin' Biloxi.

You're free of all charges, ma'am, because you DID use quotations.

Candy has no interest in determining how well people know her. In fact, the less people know, the better.

June

Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.

Candy is about to do something foolish.

Candy turned in her notice and is now officially on the hunt for a new job.

July

Pimpin' ain't easy, but it sure is lucrative. (Or something like that.)

Candy really wishes they would do a Southern Belles: Knoxville. Although it appears that I would have to get my lips plumped in order to be on it.

Is it bad that all of my vacations this year have involved casinos? One more day 'til Vegas :)

God, I hope I don't end up in the Clark County jail this time.

August

Shit just got real.

Candy loves that her mom just referred to Smoothie King as "the place that makes the interesting shakes."

Candy is staying classy. (Just got back from the Dollar General.)

New low: Press-on nails. Fancy!

Good Lord, how many people did I give my phone number to last night? Jager is bad. Very bad.

September

While cleaning out my closet earlier, I found two hundred dollars and a bottle of Xanax. I don't care who you are, that's a good day.

Candy would kill for a Klondike bar right now. THAT'S what I would do-oo-oo for a Klondike bar.

Candy has wine flu. And no, that's not a typo.

Actual conversation...Candy: "You know why I don't want to have a baby right now?" Mom: "Because you'd have to sober up?"

Note to Self: Oreos may be milk's favorite cookie, but they are definitely not wine's.

Fact: There is no such thing as "too much" shrimp cocktail.

So true: "You know, you just don't see a lot of ground beef on Top Chef." ~ Mom

October

Real women have curves. (She says as she heads to the kitchen for a late night snack.)

Candy just finished reading My Lobotomy by Howard Dully. I would DEFINITELY rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

November

Random Thought of the Day-- If I ever get to name a street (e.g., I win the lottery and build a subdivision), it will be called Morningwood Lane. Heh.

Candy loves it when people refer to other people as "commies." It's so retro.

Family time! Better start drinking.

December

"What do you give that guy who has everything? Well, for starters, you can give him MY phone number." (cheesy Lifetime holiday commercial)

Candy wants to know where exactly this "Disney Vault" is.

Actual text message I just sent: We don't have any alcoholics in my family, just drunks.

That's all, folks! Here's to a great year! (On Facebook, at least.)

Christmas Recap

2009-12-30T00:02:00.005-05:00

I hope everyone had a great Christmas! I stuck to my usual December 25th schedule, which consists of: Going to my dad's house at the crack of dawn (not by choice) (I mean, the crack of dawn part is not my choice--going to Dad's is totally by choice); opening presents and eating breakfast with my dad, stepmom, and brother; going to my mom's house; opening presents and drinking lunch with Ron and Philly; waiting on my sister to arrive; continuing to wait on my sister to arrive (she's about as punctual as I am, and that ain't sayin' much); opening presents with my sister and her pack of heathens (The Denominator, Mini Jenny, and Pebbles); and eating a big dinner with all of them.

It's exhausting. (Not really, but typing that was.)

The Christmas presents at my mom's house were a little light this year (well, for Ron and Philly), because, instead of buying each other presents, they opted to take a trip to Vegas. They left on the 26th, so, needless to say, I've been having lots of wild parties at the house and doing it in their bed. (Not really.)

Ron and Philly got me all of the items I picked out while Philly and I were out doing our Christmas shopping (I just hand her things and say, I'd REALLY like this for Christmas), as well as a few things Philly picked out on her own. My dad and stepmom gave me several cool presents, including an attorney-themed necklace (it's the one called Court Appeal) and the homemade gift pictured below:

As you can see, I had to protect my money tree, because everyone was jealous of it. (And in case you're curious, it's $100 even.)

That's all for now, but stay tuned...I'll be posting again soon, I promise!

I'm Here All Night

2009-12-28T18:22:00.005-05:00

Actual text conversation with my sister:

Candy: The dog's constipated. And although it's quite pitiful to watch, it's also hilarious. He's straining.

Jenny: For God's sake, feed him some damn bran or fiber!!!

Candy: Petamucil.

Hehehe.

Two Cents...Okay, Maybe a Cent and a Half.

2009-12-09T00:13:00.004-05:00

As someone who watched quite a bit of the Thomas trial (and most of the Cobbins trial and the Davidson trial...what can I say, I've had a lot of time on my hands) and listened closely to the closing arguments, I have to admit that I was kind of surprised by the jury's verdict. I mean, George Thomas probably was guilty of most or all of the charges against him, but a lot of the trial's observers (myself included) thought the evidence in this case was a little...flimsy.

I think it will be interesting to see what happens on appeal. (Not that I'm rooting for the verdict to be overturned. I think it would be a shame. But it could happen.)

Also, I have to wonder about the constitutionality of a statute (namely, our criminal responsibility statute) that is open to two completely different interpretations, as argued by the defense attorney and prosecutors. I've forgotten most of what I learned in law school (luckily, I learned a LOT, so the stuff I've retained is still substantial), but I seem to remember hearing something about the "void for vagueness doctrine," which states that statutes are void and unenforceable when they don't describe exactly what conduct is illegal. If one side is arguing that a statute has two elements, and the other side is arguing that it has seven, don't we have a situation where an average citizen might have to guess as to the meaning of the law? And doesn't that mean that the law is unconstitutional? I doubt George Thomas was thinking that night, if only I knew what the elements of criminal responsibility were, then I would know how to PROCEED!, but still. This issue needs to be clarified. (Maybe just for me.)

I'm merely thinking out loud. (Or, in print.)

I Am Officially an Internet Stalker.

2009-12-06T23:56:00.007-05:00

One of the terrible things about Facebook is that, once you've broken up with a guy, unless you de-friend him (which I've done in the past...only to have to add him again once we got back together...and then, having decided that it's better to know what he's doing, rather than to not know what he's doing, having decided not to defriend him...which is why I'm currently friends with most of my ex-boyfriends...wow, this is a long parenthesis), you know exactly when he starts dating someone else (his "New Girl"), what New Girl's name is, and what New Girl looks like. (Because New Girls always love to tag your exes in pictures.)

Sometimes, I think this is more information than an Old Girl should know about her ex.

However, I am happy to report that a couple of my ex-boyfriends have found New Girls who are much more...shall we say...conducive to their needs.

Kenny, for instance, a 30-year-old with the maturity level of a high school student (and I know that all guys are immature...hell, I'm immature...but this is different), is now dating an undergrad. I think this is perfect for him, because, at that age, her expectations are still low.

And Slim, who is possibly the most self-absorbed person (okay, self-absorbed male) I've ever met, is dating a girl who appears to worship him, as evidenced by the dozens of pictures she posts that are just...of him. Any normal guy would be like, okay, STOP taking pictures of me; it's creepy, but not Slim. Or so it seems.

I have no idea whom Bud might be tom-cattin' around with, because we're not friends on Facebook. Which is weird, considering he's actually the ex-boyfriend whom I would most consider an actual friend.

Man, Facebook has really fucked up break-ups.

Crisis Averted

2009-11-25T15:46:00.008-05:00

Things are looking up!

Here's why:

1. I quit looking for a job. Because, as another young lawyer recently explained to me, when you're an attorney, you never really have to be unemployed...you can always just show up in court and take appointments! So that's what I'm going to do. At the juvenile court, to start with. I won't be getting rich any time soon, but then again, I wasn't getting rich working for a firm either. At least now I can come and go as I please.

2. However...because I won't be getting paid for a few months (there's a bit of a delay in the billing process), I'm hoping to find an adjunct professor position at one of the local community colleges. Fingers crossed.

3. I'm finally at peace with the fact that I'm moving back in with my parents. For one thing, Philly is going to be working as my secretary (on a pro bono basis, at least for a few months), so I'm going to need to have her nearby. Also, because I am going to have more freedom in my work schedule, I think it's a good idea to have someone around to, you know, watch me. And make sure I really am working full-time. If Philly sees any laziness on my part, there'll be hell to pay, trust me.

4. It's the holiday season! My favorite time of year! How can I not be in a better mood?

5. Pills. Lots of pills.

Ha, just kidding.

I really am feeling a lot happier lately, and I think I'm going to like the kind of work I'll be doing. Stay tuned....

Funk.

2009-11-10T20:22:00.005-05:00

Pardon the absence. I've been in a bit of a funk. I also seem to have lost the ability to write quality posts. Seriously, though, it's not for lack of trying.

It wouldn't take a genius to guess that my unhappiness is directly related to my joblessness. Being unemployed for the past few months has allowed me to learn a lot of things about myself, namely that being unemployed is not enjoyable for me, even when it's by choice. Instead of relishing the freedom and the lack of responsibility, I just feel really guilty and useless all the time. Apparently, I need a purpose, a reason to get up every day.

I've also learned that Happy Hour isn't nearly as fun when it's the first time you've left the house that day.

The problem is, it's hard to find a job when you're completely clueless as to what you want to do. I'm working on figuring that out right now, but until I do, I'm moving back in with Ron and Philly.

I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I am sad to have to give up my apartment, which I love dearly. On the other hand, I am happy to be getting away from my upstairs neighbor "Stompy McStompster," who apparently runs laps around her hardwood-floored apartment at 2 a.m. every night while wearing high heels. It's gotten a little old.

Also, moving back home is always a little depressing, because, no matter how cool your parents are (and mine are pretty cool), you're still giving up the independence that you've grown so accustomed to. Sensing my despair, Ron and Philly have decided to get a kitten, which they know will cheer me up. (Note to future husband [whoever you are]: this is an excellent tactic and you should feel free to use it. A puppy would work, too.)

I don't have anything juicy to report right now (sorry, Matt H. ...I know you're disappointed), mainly because the majority of the guys I have gone out with (or even just hung out with) during the past two months have specifically asked me not to blog about them. (God, you post one dude's suicide note....) Also, I figure that if these guys are asking me not to mention them on my blog, then they are definitely reading my blog, which means I can't write anything good about them anyway. Sigh. I SO should have done the anonymous thing.

I will give y'all some basic (i.e., boring) updates, though, starting with Halloween.

Midge and I had made plans to go out (in costume, of course) and watch the game on The Strip. However, when Midge arrived at my apartment in over-the-knee stiletto boots and it was raining outside, I knew we would be better off going where we wouldn't have to drive or walk very far: Roosters. Incidentally, Midge's sexy boots were part of her naughty Catholic schoolgirl costume, and I was dressed as a (sexy) referee. (I'd post a pic of our costumes, but I have to respect Midge's privacy.)

Unfortunately, upon arriving at the bar, we were forced to spend about an hour and a half fending off two drunken married men ("Rick" and "Mark"), one of whom thought that a good way to get my attention was to repeatedly PUNCH me on the thigh, even after I politely asked him to STOP DOING THAT. My favorite moment of the night (and one of the few that I actually remember...hehehe) was Midge deciding to take matters into her OWN hands, yelling: Hey asshole! Here's an idea: When someone asks you to stop hitting her, why don't you STOP FUCKING HITTING HER?!?!?

That Midge. Such a fun drunk. (No really, she is. The well-deserved bitchiness is just the icing on the cake.)

Oh, and my second favorite moment: having to tell the guy dressed as one of Beyonce's backup dancers that his, um, "junk" was hanging out the leg of his leotard and was distracting me. (Ew.)

Since I wasn't driving that night, I took the opportunity to get rather...tipsy...and made the not-so-smart decision of telling Midge to leave without me, which meant that I didn't have a ride home when the bar closed. Thankfully, I had recently acquired a personal assistant, "Chico," who happens to live in my complex, and he didn't mind coming to get me. (Thanks again, Chico!)

And speaking of Chico, he is one of the guys that specifically requested that he not be mentioned on here. (I follow directions sooo well.) I just find it amusing that, upon being introduced to me by our mutual friend Slater, Chico was given one piece of advice (and one piece only): Don't end up on her blog, man.

Slater did have a point, but still.

Other things that happened during October:

I turned 27 and ate lots of delicious birthday meals;

I spent way too much time watching the Lemaricus Davidson trial (both in person and on the computer);

I crashed a wedding (well, not technically, since I went with Chico and he was in the wedding, but it still felt like crashing, since I'm actually friends with the groom and I wasn't invited);

I saw one of my favorite bands live (Carbon Leaf);

I went to Brewers' Jam (which was a muddy mess but still fun); and

I went to a hookah bar and smoked a hookah for the very first time. Surprisingly (considering my past [and...um...sometimes current] relationship with tobacco), I didn't like it all that much. It kind of gave me a headache.

November has been similarly uninteresting so far (well, that's kind of a lie, but the stuff I'm allowed to post is uninteresting), but I'm hoping things will start to look up. There's a kitten in my near future, so at least I have that to look forward to (along with hopefully finding a job). As you can see, I wasn't kiddin' about the poor quality of my blog-writing right now, but I swear I'm gonna work on it.

You Know You're Broke When...

2009-10-13T22:39:00.004-04:00

You use quarters to go to the dollar movie on Stimulus Tuesdays (they have $1 popcorn and drinks!).

Instead of Ramen noodles being the LAST thing in your pantry, they are the ONLY thing in your pantry.

You've started drinking PBR cans, and it's not because you're trying to be cool and ironic.

You've allowed someone who's 30 years older than you to flirt with you at a bar...because you know he'll buy you a drink.

A weekly garage sale seems like a viable source of income.

Looks like it's time to find a J-O-B.

Me & You & Everyone We Know

2009-10-11T18:41:00.008-04:00

Last month, I read an essay in Skirt! magazine called "One Girl's Struggle with the End." No, it's not an essay about dying; it's about a 25-year-old woman's struggle with her "quarter-life crisis" (a term I first heard back in 2001, when it was sung by John Mayer in Why Georgia). If you want to read the essay, go here.

Today, I decided to look up an article that the author of that essay referenced, called "Welcome to Your Quarterlife Crisis." You can read that one here. It's not exactly a feel good piece.

I guess it's nice to know that I'm not the only one struggling through my mid-twenties; apparently a lot of the Children of the 80's are going through, or have recently gone through, a really difficult period of anxiety, uncertainty, and alienation.

I just wish I would hurry up and get to the other side of what seems like an infinite abyss.

And what really sucks is that I know that when I look back on this time in my life, I'm gonna be like, why didn't I just cheer the fuck up?

Bandwagons I Won't Be Jumping On

2009-10-04T23:23:00.003-04:00

The Tyler Perry Bandwagon.

I can't quite figure out why this guy has become SO POPULAR lately. "I can do bad all by myself"? I don't know what that means, and I'm sure as hell not going to pay eight bucks to find out.

The Earrings-That-Stretch-Out-Your-Earlobes Bandwagon.

Looks painful.

The Twitter Bandwagon.

I've been on Facebook for something like 4 years now, and I am a huge fan of that brand of social networking. (And by "social networking," I mean stalking.) But this Twitter bullshit is nothing but narcissism (says the personal blogger), and I hope it loses its appeal sooner than later.

The "I'm Just Sayin' " Bandwagon.

I'm just sayin'.

Monday Afternoon Convo

2009-09-28T14:07:00.002-04:00

Philly (while watching a movie): I think you should marry Hugh Dancy.

Candy: That's a great idea. My name would be Candy Dancy. All of the letters in my first name would be the same as the letters in my last name.

Brilliant.

If Only I Could Do This for a Living.

2009-09-22T23:46:00.005-04:00

I haven't had much to write about lately (as I'm sure you've noticed), mainly because I've felt like total shit for the last two weeks and have barely moved from the couch. I don't think I had the swine flu, because I've been taking my temperature religiously (which is something I do all the time anyway...it's an odd compulsion), and it's been perfectly normal. (Most of the people I've talked to about H1N1 have mentioned a fever.) I think what I had was a regular ole cold, and it just turned into a really bad sinus infection. To illustrate how bad it was: I've begun referring to my parents' house (where I've been crashing ever since I got sick) as "Loogie Central."

Yum.

I finally started feeling better this past weekend, and on Sunday night I went over to my friend Midge's house to eat dinner and watch the Emmys. Here were my thoughts on the awards:

1. Even though The United States of Tara kind of gets on my nerves, I definitely think Toni Collette deserved the Emmy she won for playing a woman with dissociative identity disorder (a.k.a. multiple personalities). I know some people were disapponted that Tina Fey didn't win for 30 Rock, and my response to that is: I love Tina Fey as much as the next person, but let's face it: playing a writer for an NBC show is not that much of stretch for her. However...

2. Tina Fey TOTALLY deserved the Emmy she won for portraying Sarah Palin. That was one of the best impersonations of all time.

3. Season 3 of 30 Rock was not nearly as good as the first two seasons. There were too many guest stars and too many episodes written specifically for those guest stars. The Office should have won for Outstanding Comedy Series this year.

4. Although I agree that Mad Men is hip and smart, I don't think it's the best show on television. It probably deserved an Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series last year, but two in a row is pushing it. Midge was pulling for Lost, and I was pulling for Dexter. I probably would have been happy with a win for either of those two.

5. Speaking of Dexter, it's really too bad that Jimmy Smits didn't win for his guest role on Dexter this past season. He was amazing. Then again, I didn't see Michael J. Fox's performance on Rescue Me, and I'm sure he was great too.

6. I know I'm talking about Dexter a lot, but seriously. Is Michael C. Hall EVER going to win an Emmy? He really deserves one.

7. There is no way that Jessica Lange should have won over Drew Barrymore for their respective roles in Grey Gardens. I have so much respect for Drew Barrymore as an actress because of her performance in that movie.

8. I am so glad that Grey Gardens won for Outstanding Made for Television Movie! (But that's mostly because Philly and I like to joke that we are the 21st century's Big Edie and Little Edie. Especially when we hole up in the bonus room to watch movies and only emerge when Ron cooks something for us.)

All in all, I thought it was a good show, but a little boring. (Kind of like this post.) Repeat wins for Outstanding Comedy Series AND Outstanding Drama Series? Yawn.

A Camper's Tale

2009-09-09T17:07:00.005-04:00

In honor of Philly's birthday today (09/09/09!), I'm gonna tell y'all about The Time I Was So Angry I Could Have Killed Her.

I was 8.

That summer, I went to sleep-away camp for a whole week, which is a pretty long time when you're only 8 years old. Although I had been to YMCA Camp Montvale before, for family weekends with my dad, this was my first time flying solo. And, because I was an unusually shy and anxious kid, I was extremely nervous.

Philly packed my suitcase for me, making sure to include jeans and boots for horseback riding and bathing suits for swimming. On the first day of camp, Dad took me to my cabin, helped me set up my bed (i.e., unrolled my sleeping bag), and did a cursory search of my belongings to make sure I had everything I needed. Keep in mind that this was before cell phones and email, so the only means of communication I would have with the outside world were handwritten letters. Pens and paper were crucial.

On the first night, as I was gathering my pajamas and toiletries to take to the bath house, I realized there was ONE thing my mom had forgotten to pack. Underwear. And boy was I livid.

After my shower, I cursed Philly as I put my dirty undies back on (which undoubtedly had skid marks in them...'cause what kid's didn't), and when I got back to the cabin, I quickly wrote her a letter, which said something to the effect of:

Dear Mom,

I hate you. You forgot to pack my underwear. Camp is fun.

Love,
Candy

The letter went out the next day. Of course, a normal kid would have just told her counselor about her little "issue," and the counselor would have called home and had the camper's parents drop off some panties the next day. Hell, it wasn't like Camp Montvale was far away. It was in Maryville, about 40 minutes from home. But shy young Candy did no such thing.

Instead, I mentally cussed out Philly as I wore the same damn pair of underwear day after day. (After about three days, I turned them inside out.) I was humiliated.

Finally, on the second-to-last day of camp (or the "penultimate" day, for the vocabulary nerds), I got a letter from Philly. It said:

Look in the side pocket of your suitcase.

That bitch. She hid 'em from me.

Happy Birthday, Philly!

Better Late Than Never....

2009-08-26T17:10:00.005-04:00

My Vegas Trip: The Good, the Bad, and the Rest.

Good: The flight to Las Vegas (my favorite flight to be on!).

Bad: Connecting in Dallas (my least favorite airport).

Good: Getting picked up by Bud at the Las Vegas airport (instead of waiting in line for a taxi).

Bad: Having to ride around Vegas in Bud's car (which had intermittent air conditioning...and no hubcaps).

Good: The house where Bud was renting a room.

Bad: The refusal of Bud's roommates to turn the thermostat below 87 degrees.

Good: Seeing Las Vegas the city (as opposed to just seeing The Strip).

Bad: Seeing the construction of CityCenter (which is literally dwarfing all of the other buildings on The Strip).

Good: Better fast food than we have in Knoxville (In-N-Out Burger; free-standing Panda Express...not just in the mall!) and better shopping (H&M...need I say more?).

Bad: Being fat and broke by the end of the trip.

Good: Cheap gambling on Fremont Street.

Bad: Expensive gambling on The Strip.

Good: Seeing Jersey Boys at The Palazzo (fabulous show).

Bad: The giant maze that is The Venetian/The Palazzo. It took us approximately seven hours to find our way back to the parking garage where we had parked the car.

Good: Cheap prime rib dinners.

Bad: The third prime rib dinner (in ten days).

Seemed like a Good Idea at the time: Deciding to skip my flight home, stay a few extra days, and drive back to Knoxville with Bud.

Actually a Bad Idea: Driving back to Knoxville with Bud. (The air conditioning stopped working completely, and we got pulled over and searched by a state trooper in Oklahoma, who said that Bud seemed "nervous." Little did he know, that's just Bud's personality.)

Fun (for me): Plucking Bud's eyebrows.

Not fun (for Bud): Plucking Bud's eyebrows.

Fun (for both of us): Unlimited free shooters at Mermaids on Fremont Street.

Not fun (for either of us): Getting drunk and arguing (typical).

Blazing hot: Las Vegas in August.

"Straight chilly" (exact words I used at the time): Mount Charleston Resort, where I went with Bud while he worked one night.

Best meal: $19.95 steak and crab legs at the Tropicana.

Worst meal: $12.95 steak and lobster at the Fremont Casino (it wasn't terrible, but the lobster was dry and tough).

Best Deal: 3 free nights at the Fremont (comps).

Worst Deal: The roller coaster at New York New York (fun but overpriced.)

Here's one last picture, taken on Fremont Street, during one of the light shows (and yes, those are my players club cards around my neck...I'm a nerd):

*Of course, now that we're back in Knox-Vegas, Bud and I aren't speaking anymore. Not surprising to anyone.

Text from Last Night*

2009-08-25T00:26:00.004-04:00

From my friend Slater (in reference to my last post):

I'll tell you what's in my nightstand: a half empty Busch tallboy (approx. 1 month old), a T-shirt used for nefarious purposes, resume paper, some Tupperware thing that I keep my crickets in, and a phone charger. And by crickets I mean semen and suicide letters.

*And by last night, I mean tonight. (And by text I mean Facebook chat...which is totally the red-headed stepchild of instant messaging. Why does it always take ten seconds for the messages to go through? What is this, 1998? Bitch, please.)

She's Alive!

2009-08-20T22:55:00.007-04:00

No, I didn't stay in Las Vegas, and no, I didn't marry Bud. I've been home for more than two weeks now; I just haven't blogged because I've rarely been in front of a computer. Weeeee!

I did, however, end up staying in Vegas for a few days longer than planned, and then I drove (yes, drove) back to Knoxville with Bud, who had decided during my visit that he was ready to move home. (No, it had nothing to do with me.) Point is, I've made up my mind that I'm going to quit buying round-trip tickets to Vegas, because I never seem to make it back on my return flight.*

At some point I intended to write about my ten days in Sin City (seriously, who goes there for ten days?), but now that it's been so long, I may or may not get around to doing it. We'll see. In the meantime, I figured I'd let you know how I've been spending my time as a lady of leisure and also answer a couple of questions that were asked in a comment (even though the Pinto who wrote that comment...and apparently, there are so many of y'all out there...probably quit reading this thing about three weeks ago, when I stopped posting on the reg).

How I've Spent My Time

Reading:

The Count of Monte Cristo (which I've been meaning to read ever since one of my high school English teachers told me it was his favorite book...and it only took me nine years to get around to it!); The Time Traveler's Wife (which I re-read in anticipation of the movie being released...see below); Philly's stack of Esquire magazines (which is the best magazine on the market, in my opinion); and Tender Is the Night (which I just started).

Watching (Movies--Theater and Rented):

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (eh...they didn't do my favorite HP book justice, but I don't know how they could without making it into a mini-series); Australia (is it just me, or did this movie end, like, three separate times?); Julie & Julia (so good...I recommend it for guys, even!); The Time Traveler's Wife (I didn't really have an opinion either way, but Philly hated it); and Confessions of a Shopaholic (so bad that I couldn't even sit through all of it).

Watching (TV):

Weeds (got a little weird this season, but still one of my favorite shows); Nurse Jackie ("Zoey" is one of my favorite TV characters ever); Mad Men (Philly and I are hooked); and The Secret Life of the American Teenager (I can't believe I'm admitting to watching this).**

Of course, I've been doing other things besides reading and watching movies and TV; for instance, a few days ago I went tubing in Townsend, which was a BLAST, and I've spent quite a bit of time cleaning and reorganizing my apartment (also a blast).

Now that we're all caught up, I'll answer the questions asked by one of the Pintos.

Q: What did Kenny do that was so bad?

A: Well, Kenny actually broke up with me, but this is how it happened: While I was visiting him for a few days in early July, I opened up his nightstand drawer (because he had pulled some pretty interesting things out of there and I wanted to see what else it contained) and found a suicide letter he had written to his ex-girlfriend. The fact that he had written such a letter was disturbing enough, but the fact that he kept it was more than I could take. I had planned on leaving to go home the next day anyway, so I decided to leave that afternoon before he got home from work. (I really didn't want to see him right then.) He texted me to see if I made it home okay, and after that I didn't hear from him for five days. When I finally broke down and called him (because I was so freakin' livid that he hadn't even tried to contact me), he was a total prick about the whole thing and broke things off with me.***

Q: What did Kenny's letter say?

A: See below.

Q: Why did you leave The Firm and was it awkward when you walked back in?

A: I left because I didn't like my job. (NOT because I didn't like the people there.) It wasn't too awkward when I went back, because in the meantime, The Firm had begun leasing another building (next door to the main office), and that's where I spent all of my time during the week that I freelanced there.

If you have any more questions, feel free to ask. I'll try to post sooner than later.

*I also left by car the last time I went to Vegas, only that time I drove west (toward Los Angeles, with Cal).

**Note the lack of daytime television on my list. Because it ALL sucks.

***If Kenny had handled the situation with any class, I wouldn't be doing this...but since he didn't, I'll return the favor. Here's a picture I took of the letter when I found it. I also found a handwritten "will." One word: Creepy.

Greetings from Las Vegas

2009-07-28T15:17:00.002-04:00

I'm just popping in to brag a little bit....

I won a poker tournament at Binion's!!!

Vegas is great; I'm having a fabulous time!

Tuesdays

2009-07-21T17:56:00.006-04:00

It's really been an interesting month for me. To illustrate:

Two Tuesdays ago (July 7th), I was staying at Kenny's house, completely unaware that my relationship with him had a shelf life of, oh, about 48 hours. I went shopping that afternoon at the Madisonville mall (which was pitiful), went to dinner that evening with Kenny and his parents (who are truly awesome, and who I totally wish had conceived a son who wasn't a total douchebag), and went to bed early that night with Kenny so that we could get up at the crack of dawn the next morning and spend the day at Mammoth Cave (which was really, really interesting...did you know that it's the longest cave system in the world?).

Last Tuesday (July 14th), I was moping around my apartment, suffering from The Hangover to End All Hangovers (which may have had something to do with the wine, beer, vodka tonics, and Jager Bombs I had consumed on Monday night) and feeling pretty damn depressed. No boyfriend, no job...what did I have to look forward to? I packed up some Hair of the Dog in my mini-cooler and headed to the pool. I figured that if I was going to be depressed, I might as well be tan.

Today, I woke up early and went to work at The Firm. (Not a new firm, the same one.) See, one of the Padnahs called me last Wednesday, and asked if I could come back for a week and do some freelance work for him. Since I really needed some extra cash (for obvious reasons and for one reason that I will soon reveal), I agreed to return on a temporary basis. The best part: instead of working in my old basement office, I'm working in a sunroom-turned-office, which has five six-foot wide windows. It's pretty much the best workspace ever. Also, I'm packing my suitcase because in approximately 48 hours, I'm leaving for Las Vegas!!!

But Candy, you're probably thinking, how can someone who's unemployed afford to go to Vegas? Well, for one thing, I'm not paying for a hotel. My ex-boyfriend Bud moved to Las Vegas in May, and I'm actually going out there to visit him. (Well, and because it's Vegas.) Also, this trip is not going to involve a lot of "clubbing" or high stakes gambling on The Strip. It's really more of a low-key visit that will (hopefully) include some good food and a couple of poker tournaments. It will also undoubtedly include a lot of bickering, as Bud and I have never been able to be in the same room without wanting to kill each other. What can I say; it's a love/hate relationship, although I (usually) love him more than I hate him.

I'll be out there for a solid week, so next Tuesday (July 28), I'll hopefully be hanging out on Las Vegas Boulevard, or perhaps on Fremont Street, melting in the 100+ degree heat.

Like I said, it's been an interesting month.

Oh, and in honor of my breakup with Kenny, I decided to quit smoking again. I'm using Chantix (again), which I swear really does work, as long as you're strong enough to remain a non-smoker once you've stopped taking it. I'm going to try really hard to do that this time.

Not Gonna Do It

2009-07-15T17:24:00.004-04:00

I view Twitter the same way I view cocaine. I'm sure it's a blast, but I'm just not willing to take the chance that I'll get addicted to it.

Thus, you won't be seeing any "tweets" from me anytime soon. Nor will you see any traces of white powder under my nose.

Facebook and cigarettes: now that's another story.

Gah.

2009-07-13T19:01:00.002-04:00

Dear Men:

A piece of advice: Don’t leave letters that you wrote but didn’t send to your ex-girlfriend lying around your house for your current girlfriend to find. Especially letters that proclaim your ex-girlfriend as your “one and only true love” whom you will “love forever.” Or letters that are marked, “Read Upon Death.” It’s a bit unsettling.

I hope that the majority of you who are reading this are thinking, ummmm, DUH! But for those of you who aren’t thinking that, or who might have done this in the past (e.g., Kenny), take the fucking advice.

Candy

There. I feel better now.

The Question I Am Tired of Being Asked.

2009-07-01T16:50:00.005-04:00

"Is that a tattoo on your wrist?"

No, for the millionth time, it is not a tattoo. It is a To Do List, and yes, I realize that I am 26 years old and should have outgrown writing on myself about ten years ago. I have tried to stop making lists on the inside of my wrist, and it has become quite clear that, in order to break this obnoxious little habit, I would probably have to go on some type of medication. (Apparently a type that is different from the ones I already take.)

I don't think it's cute. I think it's sad. I will probably spend my whole life feeling overwhelmed and always thinking that, without my trusty Wrist List, I might not make it through the day.

Five Thoughts on Friday

2009-06-26T12:27:00.013-04:00

1. I am totally diggin' my new TOMS. Not only are they comfortable, but they also make me feel really charitable. Due to my willingness to buy anything that's "trendy," some underprivileged child just got a new pair of (house)shoes.

2. It really is true what they said about Pringles. Once you pop, you LITERALLY can't stop. I just ate an entire can of those little fuckers.

3. I have so many mosquito bites right now that there is, like, no way that I don't have West Nile. Too bad I already quit my job, because that would be an excellent excuse for taking a week off.

4. South Carolina governor Mark Sanford is such a prankster! "Hiking the Appalachian Trail." Tee hee hee. I'll have to use that one the next time I decide to disappear from the radar for a few days.

5. With the national media focusing all of its attention on Michael Jackson's tragic and untimely death, all I can think about is, what in the HELL is going on with Jon and Kate today? How are THEY dealing with MJ's death? Let's not forget what's really important.

In Case You're Wondering

2009-06-25T09:49:00.008-04:00

I'm sure a lot of you are thinking, wow, Candy sure is nuts over this Kenny character...he must have some pretty impressive credentials.

And you're right, he does.

For starters, Kenny has informed me that, in 2007, he earned an Associate's Degree in Aerospace Engineering from Dartmouth University. At first I was a little skeptical of whether this was the "truth," because 1) I've never heard of an Ivy League school giving out an associate's degree, and 2) an associate's degree in "aerospace engineering" sounds a little fishy (although not as fishy as an associate's degree in marine biology...hehehe). But, when Kenny sent me a picture of this diploma hanging on his wall, I knew his story was legit.*

(click on image to enlarge)

Before attending Dartmouth for those four grueling semesters, Kenny spent a few years as a firefighter for the Madisonville Fire Department. And even though he never had the opportunity to fight any actual fires, Kenny did save a lot of cats who were stuck in trees, and he even once sprayed a cat out of a tree using the fireman's hose, which I, for one, think is a testament to how good his aim is. He also recently used his knowledge of fire hydrants to "borrow" some city water for his above-ground pool, which just goes to show how resourceful he is.

Since graduation, Kenny has been searching for a job in which he can put his aerospace engineering skills to good use, but as we all know, in this economy, aerospace engineering jobs aren't exactly easy to come by. So, in the meantime, Kenny has been working for the family business, which is an office supply store dedicated to selling giant checkbooks (for lottery commissions and the Publishers Clearing House) and jumbo pens, which can be used to write extremely large checks. The name of this business is Fatty's, and from what Kenny has told me, it's the second highest grossing company in Madisonville, right behind the Pinkerton Family Meth Lab.

Kenny is also an aspiring author, and like the true renaissance man that he is, he's combining his two loves, aerospace engineering and me, in an as-yet unnamed science fiction/romance novel about an astronaut named Captain MacDouglas Fawn who falls in love with a space attorney named Cammy Gardner. Expect to see this one on the New York Times Best Seller List sometime around 2012.

As if all of this weren't enough, Kenny is also an accomplished cartographer, as evidenced by this map that he sent me to help me find my way to his house in Madisonville, Kentucky. Not only did this map help me get to Madisonville, but it also taught me a lot about the town, such as that it is the best town on Earth, and also that it is where Kenny lives.**

When combined with his good looks, his sleek physique, and his rockin' sense of humor, Kenny's credentials truly do make him the total package. I am one lucky lady.

*Of course, according to Wikipedia, "Dartmouth University" is a defunct institution that existed only from 1817-1819, and the correct name of the Ivy League school located in Hanover, New Hampshire (Kenny was a little fuzzy on the location) is actually "Dartmouth College." Luckily, I'm not really one to split hairs.

**You can't see it in this version of the map, but the sign over Kenny's head (which, in my opinion, looks like a sawhorse but is actually an accurate representation of a sign in Downtown Mad-ville) states that Madisonville is the Best Town on Earth.

Elaboration

2009-06-24T12:57:00.001-04:00

Look, when I "announced" to my Pintos (I mean, readers) that I was quitting my job, I didn't expect any validation. In fact, I think it's rather odd that a lot of people have congratulated me on quitting, as if it's some kind of accomplishment. It's not something I'm proud of, nor am I excited about it. (I'm not sayin' I don't appreciate the kind sentiments, though. I do!)

And I certainly don't have anything negative to say about The Firm. I feel incredibly lucky to have worked with some of the best attorneys in Knoxville.

However.

The job that I've been doing for the past two years just isn't right for me. I don't like sitting in front of a computer for nine hours every day, and I don't like the fact that I hardly ever interact with anyone. Also, I'm tired of working in a basement. It's depressing, and it makes me feel like I'm in prison.

As a single twenty-something with no mortgage and only two months left on my lease, I think I have a somewhat easier time facing unemployment than a lot of adults do. For example, if worse comes to worst (and I feel fairly certain that it will), I can just move back in with Ron and Philly for awhile.

On the relationship front, Kenny was in town this past weekend, and in honor of my impending joblessness, we partied like rock stars. I went to all of my favorite bars and drank all of my favorite drinks, and from now on, I'm going to be living a much lower-budget lifestyle. Milwaukee's Best? Don't mind if I do.

Big News

2009-06-19T10:15:00.006-04:00

Well, I turned in my two-week notice to The Firm this morning. Without having anything else lined up. Brilliant move, huh?

Yes, I know that the economy is terrible and this is, like, the worst time ever to be trying to find work...but I also know myself, and I knew that until I was forced to search for a new job (forced by the prospect of being broke, of course), I would never really do it. And I needed to do it. For my sanity.

In the words of Otis Redding: I can't do what ten people tell me to do....

I'm beginning my job hunt ASAP, so if anyone has any good leads, please let me know!

Save.

2009-06-15T15:22:00.004-04:00

You would think that after, oh, something like 12 years of using Microsoft Word, I finally would have learned to save my (fucking) work.

But no, there I sat last Friday, typing my four-page response to a motion, which, in my opinion was some of the best legal writing I've done in a long time, maybe ever, and not once (apparently) did I hit "Save."

Which wouldn't have been a problem, had my computer not done the ole "Install Updates and Restart" routine over the weekend, which meant that, when I arrived at work this morning, my precious response was gone, baby, gone.

You'd think that Microsoft Word would have saved the latest version of that document, and that it would have been waiting there for me in the document recovery pane, which I depend on way more than I should. Alas, when I clicked on the document entitled "Response to Motion [redacted]," the only thing that appeared on the page was "Comes now the Plaintiff, and responds in opposition to the Defendant's Motion [redacted]."

Four pages of hard work, down the drain.

Oh, the humanity.

How to Be American.

2009-06-12T14:59:00.007-04:00

Get one of these:

And a couple of these:

And a BUNCH of these:

(cans, of course, because there's no glass in the pool), and have fun. Maybe get some barbecue potato chips, too.

West Bound

2009-06-04T10:52:00.004-04:00

Tonight I'll be packin' my suitcase and shavin' my legs, because tomorrow I'm headin' to Kentucky to visit Kenny! He's come to see me twice in Knoxville so far, but this will be my first trip to his hometown, the grand metropolis of Madisonville, KY. Or, as I've been calling it, "Medicineville" (based on the fact that, in recent years, it seems to have become a hotbed of illicit drug activity...which makes it my kind of town!).

I have no idea what we'll be doing in Medicineville, although I have been told to bring clothes that I can get dirty. (Maybe Kenny's taking me down into the coal mines!) Also, he just bought Season One of Arrested Development, which may just be my favorite show of all time, and which he's NEVER SEEN before, so I predict that we'll be spending some time curled up on the couch, laughing our asses off.

Also, I'll be meeting The Parents (well, for the first time as Kenny's girlfriend). I actually met Kenny's mom back in 2006 (when I met Kenny), but it was very brief, and at that point I was just the random girl he'd met at a bar the night before. (Classy!)

I just can't believe it's only been a little more than a month since Kenny's and my first "date" (as much as you can call spending an entire weekend together a "date"). It feels like that was ages ago, especially when I think about how close we've become in only a few weeks. I will say this, though: As much as I like (even...wait for it...love) Kenny, this long-distance sitchiation ain't gonna cut it forever. And that's some scary shit to think about. I mean, if we were to decide to live in the same place, who would move? And would we live together immediately? Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.

Still, when you know, you know. And the best way I can sum up how I view Kenny and me is that we're two sides of the same coin. (I guess that would make him "heads" and me "tails"! Okay, bad joke.)

Eek

2009-06-02T15:32:00.007-04:00

Occasionally during the day, Kenny and I will chat via Facebook for a few minutes (using the instant message feature), and yesterday we had a particularly embarrassing, but also funny moment during one of our Facebook conversations.

See, yesterday was the first day of the month, which meant that all of my billable time for the previous month needed to be entered into The Firm's billing system (which is a software program) before 5:00. I keep track of my billable hours in a daily planner, and even though I always intend to type my time into the system on Friday afternoons, I usually forget and have to enter it alllll on the day it's due. (I am a master of the art of procrastination. Seriously, I actually have an M.A. from Dartmouth.)

Anyhoo, Kenny and I were chatting on Facebook, and this is how the conversation went:

Candy: I'm entering my time for the month. There's not as much of it as usual.

Kenny: Uhhh...I hope it runs its course quickly.

Candy: You hope WHAT runs its course quickly? Our relationship? Hehe.

Kenny: No, your cycle.

Candy: Oh for the love of God. I was talking about typing in my HOURS. For the month of May! And there aren't as many hours as usual because I took some days off! I can't believe you thought I was referring to...that.

Kenny: Well, YOU read what you typed. "There's not as much of it as usual"...?

Candy: Disgusting.

Thank goodness Kenny doesn't scare easily.

(Also: Typical guy response to say that he hopes it "runs its course" quickly. Only worried about how it will affect him!)

Bitter, Table for Two

2009-05-21T14:18:00.004-04:00

My friend Eddie and I were recently discussing (via email, because we both spend an inordinate amount of time at sitting at desks) some of our pet peeves regarding Facebook status updates. We came up with a short list.

Facebook Status Updates We Don't Want to See:

1. Stay-at-home moms lamenting: a) their high level of stress; b) how difficult their lives are; or c) how much they need a vacation.

Are you kidding me? Let's trade jobs for a week, and then you'll THINK "need a vacation."

2. Incremental updates about the minute details of someone's life, such as: "Lisa is craving chicken salad for lunch," quickly followed by "Lisa is at the deli buying chicken salad," quickly followed by "Lisa is eating chicken salad like it's her job!"

No one effing cares, people.

3. People who don't work telling us how they're spending this beautiful day (e.g., taking their dogs to the park, tanning in the backyard, or cruising around with the top down).

Thanks for telling me how nice it is outside; I had no idea, from down here in my window-less dungeon office.

But we're not bitter.

Strange Things Are Happening

2009-05-20T11:27:00.007-04:00

Well, it looks like Kenny and I are "in a relationship" now. No, we haven't yet proclaimed it on Facebook (which, of course, is the only way to make any relationship legitimate these days), but we did make the decision to Be Official at some point during his visit last weekend (undoubtedly while we were drunk).

Here we are at a really classy nightclub here in town (Purada), on the night before Kenny decided to shave his beard. All over my bathroom. It's okay, Kenny. Paybacks are hell.

I always wondered what it would be like to date someone who is really, really, ridiculously funny, and now I know. It's fan-freakin'-tastic. At least 738 times a day I burst into laughter just thinking about conversations we've had. Fuck Dane Cook.*

*I used to think that Dane Cook was my dream guy.

Kenny Is the New Cal

2009-05-10T16:29:00.011-04:00

It’s déjà vu all over again.

When I mentioned before that I was going to Louisville with my friend Kenny this past weekend, I was using the word “friend” rather loosely. In actuality, Kenny and I had only met in person once, and that was almost three years ago. Since then, we’ve only kept in touch through occasional (and I mean very occasional) text messages. When Kenny (finally) joined Facebook a few weeks ago, we started chatting a little bit, and then out of nowhere, he invited me to come to Louisville with him for Derby weekend.

I know it sounds crazy that I would even think about saying yes. I mean, I knew this guy about as well as I knew Cal, when he and I met in Vegas and spent a total of six hours getting acquainted over beers before he invited me to come and spend a weekend with him in Southern California. Apparently, I'm a little more impulsive than I would like to think I am.

Here’s the backstory: During the fall of my second year of law school, Philly and I decided to go to Gatlinburg for a night and spend the next day shopping at the outlets in Pigeon Forge. That night, we went to the hip, exclusive (and by "hip, exclusive," I mean "trashy") nightclub Blaine’s.

And that’s where we met “Kenny,” a redneck-type from Kentucky who kept us laughing the entire night. We liked the way he talked. When it was time for Philly and me to head back to our hotel room, we made plans to meet up with Kenny the next day in Pigeon Forge for some afternoon beers.

After that second day, I never saw Kenny again. He's been in Gatlinburg a couple of times since then (his family makes an annual trip), and we always intended to meet up; it just never happened. I guess neither one of us forgot how much we enjoyed each other’s company though, because we never lost touch.

And that's how I ended up in Louisville last weekend with a bunch of strangers and one almost-stranger. Fortunately, I had an absolute BLAST with Kenny and his friends “Double E” and “Precious,” the truly awesome couple whom we stayed with. Kenny acted like a perfect gentleman the entire weekend (whether it was all an act remains to be seen), and he kept me laughing pretty much constantly (mostly with rape jokes).

Since we left last Sunday, it's become pretty clear that Kenny has “got it bad” (those are Philly’s words, not mine), evidenced by the fact that he sent me flowers at work on Monday, overnighted me a jump drive with his current playlist on Wednesday, and is coming to visit me in Knoxville next Thursday.

Am I excited? Yes. Am I happy? Yes. Am I worried that this might be a case of history might be repeating itself? Just a tad.

As you may or may not remember, things with Cal kind of petered out after he came to visit me for my birthday in October. So...naturally, I’ve been a little worried that these fabulous out-of-town trips with guys I barely know, followed by their visits to Knoxville, might be turning into a pattern for me. On the other hand, I don’t remember feeling quite this giddy over Cal.

Who knows whether Kenny and I will become “serious,” but I will say this: For years I've said that what I really want is a man who can make me laugh, and Kenny certainly does. He’s also the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I’ve ever known. (His spelling is atrocious, but what the hell, nobody’s perfect.)

It's definitely becoming a "situation." And I like it.

In other news, in a couple of hours, Philly and I are flying to down to Biloxi, where I'm hoping to spend the majority of the next few days here:

And if the weather is as good as it is in this picture, I’m pretty sure I won’t have the Biloxi Blues.

More soon....

Drink, Drank, Drunk

2009-04-28T12:05:00.005-04:00

Apparently, my dedication to blogging is inversely proportional to the amount of alcohol I drink. And after a few Old Style's at last night's Smokies game, I am not feeling very dedicated today.

Here's the deal, folks (I love calling people "folks," especially when I give made-up closing arguments in my bedroom to juries consisting mostly of stuffed animals...just kidding, I haven't done that since law school): I've been going out a lot lately. Sometimes on dates, sometimes with friends, and sometimes all by myself. (No, I don't really go out by myself. I just ended up by myself this past Saturday night when my friends, whom I'm now referring to as "Eddie and the Boozers," got "tired" and bailed on me at 11 o'clock. Which is how I ended up talking for two hours to Steve Dupree, whom I'd never met before, but whom I totally recognized from his articles in CityView Magazine and from his bit part in The People vs. Larry Flynt. It was an interesting evening, to say the least.)

It's just hard to be an avid blogger when your days are consumed with, well, consuming. And the nonstop debauchery will be continuing for at least another couple of weeks, as my schedule for the month of May includes (so far):

May 1-3: Going to Louisville with my friend "Kenny" (who might just be the funniest person I've ever met) for the Kentucky Oaks and the Derby;

May 5: Bebiendo muchas cervezas (for Cinco de Mayo, of course);

May 9: Hopefully going out with LaToya (all the LaToya fans can come out and get an autograph, or maybe she'll flash you a boob);

May 10-13: Going to Biloxi with Philly (fo' free!); and

May 16: Going to my nephew "The Denominator's" high school graduation, and getting him drunk afterward (just kidding, sis).

I swear I'm coming back soon. Or later.

P.S. I'm sure y'all can tell that I love giving people nicknames. Until recently, my favorite nickname of all time (which I can't even take credit for, dammit) was "SAM," which stood for Sexually Active Matt. After this weekend, I have a new favorite. "S.T.Dave". And no, I didn't bestow this nickname based on personal experience. It's based on rumors, which I find to be a completely reliable source.

Party Foul

2009-04-19T15:55:00.003-04:00

To the drunkass-hole whom I let borrow my phone last night (because he'd already lost his, which probably should have been a red flag, but, you know, hindsight is 20/20) and who, after making a call placed my phone directly into his vodka-and-Redbull:

Technically the phone still works, but it now vibrates constantly. Even when it's turned off. When I make a call, it sounds like there's a weed eater against my ear. Guess I'll be making a trip to Verizon tomorrow. :(

The Cupcake Conundrum

2009-04-15T14:37:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, someone at my office brought in homemade cupcakes (yellow cake with chocolate frosting--my favorite), and today someone else brought in cupcakes (this time, pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting). Both were absolutely delish.

After stuffing my face with (ahem, several of) these confections, I got to thinking about cupcakes in general. I know they've been all the rage in New York and L.A. for the past several years (and in Knoxville for the past, um, year), but I'm not really sure why. Because, when you think about it, cupcakes are about the most awkward, hard-to-eat dessert there is.

First of all there's the process of removing the wrapper, during which I usually get about half of the cupcake's frosting on my fingers.

Next there's the problem of biting into the cupcake, which I find to be nearly impossible to do without getting the remaning frosting on my nose.

Furthermore, aside from the fact that most of the frosting ends up on my fingers and nose, the shape of a cupcake is not conducive to frosting anyway, because inevitably I will eat the top half of of the cupcake first, leaving an entire bottom half with no frosting. Oh the humanity.

Why in the world have these disasters-waiting-to-happen become so popular??? Much less at weddings? I just don't understand.

Personally, I would much prefer to eat a slice of double-layer cake or, even better, triple-layer cake. If I put the slice of cake on its side and eat it with a fork, I can usually manage to get a little bit of frosting with every bit, and when I get to the end of the piece, there is an abundance of frosting (because that's the outside of the cake). I like to think of that as my own private happy ending (much more innocent than the massage kind.) Also, when I'm finished eating, I don't look like the pictures from a one-year-old's birthday party.

Not that I'm complaining about the cupcakes at the office. If these ladies are willing to keep making them, I'm certainly willing to keep eating them. I'm just pointing out that "popular" doesn't always mean "best." (Actually, it rarely does.)

Overheard at Walgreens

2009-04-08T09:16:00.007-04:00

Conversation between customer and employee:

Customer: Would it be okay if I open the packaging on this hairbrush and try it out before I buy it? I'm not sure it's going to work on my hair.

Employee: Um...I think it would be better for you to buy it, take it out to the parking lot, try it there, and then if it doesn't work, you can return it.

Customer: Oh. I just won't get it then. I wasn't even planning on coming here tonight, but I had to at the last minute. You can't LIVE without toilet paper, ya know?

Fuckin' right you can't.

Pet Peeve #478

2009-04-06T12:37:00.003-04:00

"We're pregnant."

No, ONE of you is pregnant. (Unless both of you are puking every morning for a couple of months, gaining 30-40 pounds, and then pushing a person out of your nether regions.)

Can't you just say we're having a baby?

And speaking of having babies, I really enjoyed this story on Today this morning.

I Do...Not.

2009-04-01T16:59:00.005-04:00

An acquaintance of mine recently found herself loathing the man to whom she was betrothed, and, in planning to break off the engagement, she wondered whether she would have to return the gorgeous ring he had given her. Today, while I was researching something entirely different at work, I came across her answer.

In Crippen v. Campbell, the facts were the following: Man proposed to Woman, at which time he placed an engagement ring on Woman's finger. At some point the engagement came to an end (the opinion does not reflect who broke it off), and Man requested that Woman return the ring. When she refused, he filed a lawsuit to recover it.

Both parties filed motions for summary judgment (basically asking the trial court to dispose of the case in their favor without holding a trial, because the facts are such that no jury could find for the other party), and the trial court granted Woman's motion, noting that the "gift" from Man to Woman was final upon Woman's acceptance, regardless of what happened thereafter.

Man appealed. The Tennessee Court of Appeals reversed and granted summary judgment in his favor, finding that an engagement ring is an impliedly conditional gift and is completed only upon marriage. Thus, if a marriage does not ensue, Man (or whoever gave the other person a ring) is entitled to the return of the ring.

Conclusion: Woman had to give it back.

So, Guys, if you've been dumped by your fiance (or even if you've dumped her, I suppose) and she's refusing to give back the ring, you do have legal recourse. Ladies, if you're hoping to sell the ring or make it into a lovely necklace, you had better hope that your ex doesn't know the law.*

*Disclaimer/C.Y.A.: Any opinions expressed herein are those of the author and should not be relied on without further assistance of counsel.

Well, That Was a First

2009-03-26T10:47:00.008-04:00

After work yesterday, I went to Preservation Pub to meet Lydia, a good friend from college whom I've unfortunately lost touch with during the past few years, despite the fact that we're both still living in Knoxville. Pitiful.

Apparently, there was some kind of benefit going on at Pres. Pub (Relay for Life, maybe?), so the place was pretty crowded, and there was a Hootie-ish band playing up on the stage. I arrived before Lydia did, so I squeezed up to the bar to get a beer, like you often have to do when every seat at the bar is occupied.

I didn't pay much attention to the people on either side of me, mainly because I was keeping one eye on the door (for Lydia) and one eye on the bartender (for attention). However, the chick to my right certainly noticed me.

I believe her name was "Mel," and she immediately asked me if I was there alone. No, I replied, I'm meeting a friend. Mel was slurring pretty badly, and at first I thought she was just wasted. However, it also crossed my mind that she might have been foreign, which would have explained her slow-paced, somewhat garbled speech. Where are you from, I asked, out of sheer curiosity and not at all realizing that I was appearing "interested." Turns out, she's from Louisiana, has lived in Knoxville for eight years, lives in an apartment that overlooks the river, lives alone (emphasis), and doesn't mind living alone, because she doesn't have to put up with anyone's .... (I didn't catch that last part; it was too garbled.)

Clearly, Mel was quite a talker. It also became clear that Mel was hitting on me, so I told her I had to go find my friend and made a getaway. Shortly thereafter, Lydia arrived and all was forgotten.

That is, until Mel made her way over to our table a little later. I wanted to meet your friend, she said. So, I obligingly introduced her to Lydia. Mel continuously referred to the fact that Lydia and I were on a "date," despite the fact that I insisted that we were just old friends. She also told Lydia that I seemed like an "amazing person," and that I had a "beautiful aura." Riiiiight.

Lydia, always the epitome of cool, knew exactly what to do and quickly pulled out her phone, explaining that she needed to make a reservation for our impending dinner "date." I guess she wanted to make it clear to Mel that she had no intention of giving me up without a fight. Luckily, Mel took the hint and skedaddled.

I have to say, I've been hit on by a few men at bars in my day, but never by a woman. I guess there's a first time for everything.

I called Philly on the way home to tell her about Mel, and also to get reassurance that I don't give off a lesbian "vibe." (Not that there's anything wrong with that vibe, it's just not the one I'm aiming for.) Philly, of course, took full advantage of the situation by calling me at work this morning to let me know that some woman named Mel called the house looking for me. Very funny, Mother.

It's Not Bracket Science

2009-03-19T09:12:00.004-04:00

Um, okay. There has been a request for me to do a big ole bracket post. (Thanks, E!) Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the qualifications to take on such an endeavor. As such, I will do a teeny-tiny post.

I picked Louisville to win it all for one reason, and one reason alone: Rick Pitino. I think he's sexy. As long as he is coaching there, I will always pick Louisville to win.

Venting

2009-03-17T14:43:00.003-04:00

When I get married, if I ever find out that my husband is referring to me as "the wife" to his friends and coworkers, I may very well have to start referring to him as "the ex-husband."

Is it so hard to say my wife?

That is all.

Who Drinks on a Monday?*

2009-03-17T09:33:00.007-04:00

After work yesterday I met my friend Bert** for a couple of beers at Union Jack's, which is one of my favorite Knoxville bars for the sole reason that it's open late on Christmas Eve. I've never actually gone there on Christmas Eve, but it's definitely on my list of things to do.

What I love about Bert is that something like 95% of people who meet him are just a little bit afraid of him. Think Steve Buscemi's character in Billy Madison. You just know he has a hit list somewhere, and you're praying that you're not on it.

In reality, Bert is one of the nicest people I've ever met, and once I got to know him I realized just how ridiculous it is that at one point I was almost positive that it was actually him who shot JFK and not that Lee Harvey Oswald guy. (Never mind the fact that Bert was 18 years away from even being born when that happened.) Now, it's an endless source of entertainment for me to give him shit about his scary demeanor, knowing full well that he would never hurt a fly.

In fact, just last night he told me that, unlike most of his bloodthirsty hunting friends (including LaToya's husband Zed), Bert has only killed one animal in his life, and that was when he accidentally ran over a squirrel with his car. In Bert's words, "I felt really bad that he [the squirrel] was lying there in pain, so I ran over him again to put him out of his misery." I'm not sure this would hold up in court, but it sounded good to me.

After letting Bert beat me in both darts and pool (riiiiight), I figured it was time to call it a night, but not before I made a quick stop at the grocery store for some essentials (namely, toilet paper). Note to self: Going to the grocery store with a three-beer buzz is not the most productive use of my time or money. I did manage to get the TP, but I also came home with a frozen pizza, a can of Pringles, some honey roasted cashews, and more beer. Too bad I had to consume all of that by myself when I got home.***

*And especially on the Monday before St. Patrick's Day? Me, apparently.
**He hates that I call him that on here. Which just makes me want to do it more. Bert, Bert, Bert.
***No, I didn't eat all of that food. Just a little of each item. What can I say, I like finger foods. Think Cher in Mermaids.

Did You Know...

2009-03-13T14:27:00.004-04:00

that the Chief Justice of the Tennessee Supreme Court is in the movie The People vs. Larry Flynt?

I had no idea!

I was watching that movie last night (for the first time ever), and during one of the courtroom scenes, I looked at the judge and thought, is that Justice Holder? I've never met her in person, but I've seen her picture on the Tennessee Supreme Court website, and the judge on the screen look awfully familiar.

Since I don't have Internet at home, I couldn't Google it to see if I was right, so I had to wait (for what felt like an eternity) for the credits to start rolling to confirm.

And sure enough, there was her name, Janice Holder!

I always thought Justice Holder was pretty cool anyway, just 'cause she's on our Supreme Court and all, but now I have a whole new respect for her. Jan is totally the man.

Addicted

2009-03-10T16:06:00.006-04:00

Sorry for not posting sooner, but I started reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn on Sunday (which I'd never read before), and I literally can't put it down. I'm so tied up in turn-of-the-century Brooklyn that I've barely been able to concentrate on my work during the past two days, and I had to force myself out of my apartment last night to go to my little brother's baseball game.

And speaking of my brother's baseball game, can I just say that, having grown up in a fairly baseball-free environment, I find it very disconcerting when my dad yells various comments about "stroking it" to the middle school-aged players. Like, "Way to stroke it, Joey!" I know that's probably a normal thing to yell to a baseball player, but all I can think about is Clarence Carter. I be strokin'.

Clarence Carter's classic song lyrics and my father's voice do not need to be in my head at the same time.

I did, however, love it when he yelled "where's Ray Charles when you need him" to the umpire. You tell 'em, Pops! Forget the game, I think heckling should be a sport.

After the game was over at 9:30, I raced back home and read 'til I couldn't stay awake any longer. Now I'm anxiously awaiting the end of the work day so I can go home and finish reading about Francie Nolan!

Very Early Morning

2009-03-05T09:32:00.008-05:00

Last night (well, this morning, actually) was a little more eventful than I had planned. At about 4:00 a.m., I awoke to the sound of tapping on my sliding glass door. And there's only one person that could have been: Bud. Great, I thought, this is just what I need. Bud showing up drunk.

After a quick peek to confirm that The Tapper was, in fact, Bud, I took the stick out of the door (my high tech security system) and slid open the glass. Always the very picture of hospitality, I believe the first words out of my mouth were "I don't want you here."

Now, before you go thinking that I'm a total bitch (debatable), let me explain. Bud has been showing up at my apartment, drunk, in the middle of the night for years. Much less so in recent years, since I entered the Real World and he began working weekend nights, but it's still not entirely out of the question, especially when he knows for a fact that I'm single.

Also, last night/this morning, he was carrying something in his hand, which I mistakenly thought was a partially consumed six-pack of beer. Have you not had ENOUGH, I thought. What he was actually carrying was some sort of machine that he uses to do "breathing treatments," because poor Bud suffers from severe asthma. "I'm so sorry to wake you up; I know you have to work tomorrow, but I really need you; I think I'm having a panic attack," he said.

As it turned out, Bud was having a panic attack, and if you've ever had one, then you know how terrifying they can be. He told me that he had almost gone to the ER because "he thought he was dying" (sure sign of a panic attack), but then he decided to just come over to my place, as I (unfortunately) have become somewhat of a expert on the phenomenon, having suffered numerous panic attacks myself. Also, he knew that I would have the good drugs. (I'm kidding; Bud hates taking any kind of medication.)

Along with thinking that you're dying, another symptom of a panic attack is feeling like you can't breathe. That's scary for anyone, but I would imagine that it's even worse for someone who has asthma and for whom not being able to breathe is a real possibility. I felt so bad for Bud, knowing that he probably felt like he was actually suffocating.

I finally got him calmed down, assuring him that his health was fine and that his poor brain was just in overdrive. We also had a good laugh, which I think helped to get his mind off the attack. He was telling me that, when his panic attack had started, he began thinking that his "neighbors below me" had poisoned him. Still half asleep, I thought he said that "his neighbor's bologna had poisoned him," and my immediate response was, "why in the hell were you eating your neighbor's bologna???" Hehehe. (I mean, who would eat their own bologna, much less anyone else's?) (Oh, and in case you're wondering why Bud would think that his downstairs neighbors were poisoning him, apparently they smoke a lot of weed, and Bud was convinced that he was getting "poisoned" by all of the smoke. No, it doesn't make any sense, but when you're having a panic attack, you don't exactly think logically.)

Honestly, I'm kind of glad that I've experienced a few panic attacks and can be there to help someone else who's going through one of these awful episodes. Although I do wish that Bud would have had his attack at a reasonable hour.

By the time I got him tucked in on the couch, it was about 5:45 a.m., which gave me a little over an hour before I had to start getting ready for work. Needless to say, I'm a little drowsy at the office today.

A Gentleman

2009-02-27T15:37:00.005-05:00

After work yesterday, I met an old friend for Happy Hour. Actually, he's not so much an old friend as he is an old acquaintance. We used to live across the street from each other in high school (before Ron, Philly, and I moved to their current house), but he and I never actually spoke to each other. I merely spied on him and his friends while they played basketball in the driveway.

In college, I would occasionally run into him at my favorite bar (Cool Beans, if you're from around here), and we would engage in drunken small talk, which I always find to be much easier than sober small talk. We may or may not have made out once. At some point, I outgrew that bar (everyone has to eventually), so I didn't see him for a few years.

Then, this past December, I ran into him while I was on a psuedo-date at Sassy Ann's. Apparently (and I'll be honest, I didn't remember this until he reminded me of it), he asked me for my phone number, but I, being the polite date that I am, refused to give it to him. I did manage to slur something to the effect of "if you want to contact me, you'll figure out a way," and that was that.

According to him, he did try to contact me, via email, shortly thereafter, but who knows. My email filter might have blocked it, or he may have just been lying. Point is, I never got this alleged email.

He also added me as a friend on Facebook (so he could stalk me...I kid, I kid), and a few days ago, he sent me a message, asking if I'd like to "do Happy Hour" one afternoon. Sure, why not.

We met at a bar that has it's own brewery, and all I have to say about that is, the IPA was both delicious and POTENT. I was pretty much shitfaced after three. (Today I confirmed that the IPA does, in fact, have a higher alcohol content than, say, a Miller Lite. Thank goodness, because I was beginning to think I had become a lightweight.)

I'm not going to comment much on the conversation, other than to say that it was pleasant, but at this point irrelevant. Here's why.

Today, I got the following text message:

Last night was fun, too bad I didn't get asked over, ha.

As if the "ha" at the end of that makes it anywhere near appropriate. Seriously?

I always manage to find the winners, don't I.

Family Jewels

2009-02-24T17:41:00.005-05:00

Today I'm recounting two stories, one that I've heard over and over, for as long as I can remember, and one that I heard for the first time this past weekend.

#1
When I was two years old and my parents were still married, they had a set of clear glass jars that they kept on the kitchen counter, and in these jars were things like ground coffee, flour, and sugar. Philly's sister (a.k.a. my aunt) JC loves to tell a story about these jars, and because this story is also about me, I never get tired of hearing it.

One morning, when JC had come to visit my parents and me, she went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I'm sure my dad was already at work that morning, and my mom must have been upstairs getting ready or something. I was sitting in my high chair, which, according to all of the stories that I've ever heard about this time period, is what I was always doing. Truth be told, I was a rather chunky toddler, so I guess it makes sense that I was always eating. Anyhoo, JC was wondering where to find the sugar, and rather than yelling upstairs to Philly, she decided to ask two-year-old Candy if I knew where my parents kept it.

Aunt JC: Candy, do you know where your parents keep the sugar?

Candy: (pointing at the jar of ground coffee) Over there by that jar of dirt.

Look, there was a big jar of loose brown stuff on the counter, and what else would it have been, in my mind, besides dirt? I never considered any other possibility, so I never even thought to ask what it (actually) was.

Also, I love that, to a two-year-old, it didn't seem odd that my parents would be keeping a supply of soil on the kitchen counter.

#2
My great aunt Mildred and her husband Paul were hard workers. They ran a small grocery store, and every morning Paul would leave to open the store at 8 o'clock. Mildred would join him around 10 or 11, and then she would leave around 7, while he stayed to close the store at 11. The store was open six days a week, except during the summer, when Mildred and Paul would close it at noon on Wednesdays and take my mom and her sisters to the pool. (Mildred and Paul never had any children of their own.)

According to my Aunt Priscilla, who stayed with Mildred and Paul occasionally, every night when Mildred and Paul went to sleep, he would say to her, in a sing-song voice, Goodnight Millie! And she would respond, also in a sing-song voice, Goodnight Paulie! And they would go to sleep, with their backs resting against each other. Every single night.

When Paul passed away, Mildred told someone in the family that she could still feel his back up against hers when she went to bed at night. And she passed away less than a year after he did.

Isn't that the sweetest thing you've heard in a long time?

I hope there's a Paulie out there for me....

Slightly Different Schedule

2009-02-20T10:47:00.003-05:00

In college, my opinion of a good Friday night was:

Eating a light dinner (so I wouldn’t feel too full when I started drinking);

Pre-drinking at my apartment, starting around 8;

“Getting ready” for at least an hour and a half;

Going out around 11;

Staying at a bar until they kicked us out; and

Inviting everyone back to my apartment, where we’d drink until at least 5 or 6.

On a Friday night in the Real World, I’m looking forward to:

Getting an hour-long massage after work (which Philly is giving me shit for, since “some people can’t even afford groceries”);

Immediately changing into my pajamas when I get home;

Having some wine while I cook spaghetti;

Eating a huge plate of that (delicious) spaghetti;

Watching the movie that I’m getting in the mail from Netflix today (Vicky Cristina Barcelona); and

Being in bed by midnight.

Does this mean I'm old?

Saturday Night in Pictures

2009-02-18T14:05:00.004-05:00

Kodak Moment #1: Looking Far More Sober Than We Actually Were.

Girls' Night Out started at Aubrey's. It also ended there. This wasn't the original plan, but we couldn't very well turn down the bottle of wine that the guys at the next table over bought for us. Or the one after that....

Kodak Moment #2: Look! Our New Best Friends! AKA, Buyers of the Wine.

Isn't the one beside me precious? He was just a wee twenty-two years old! And over on the right, Frenchy appears to be quite cozy with Bachelor #2.

Kodak Moment #3: How Not to Pour a Glass of Wine.

Not that you can tell at all, but this picture was actually staged. It was taken shortly after yours truly spent about thirty seconds trying to pour herself a glass of wine, until Frenchy kindly pointed out that the CAP WAS ON THE BOTTLE. "Well, how was I supposed to know that we were drinking wine from a bottle that didn't have a cork?!?" (I slurred.) On his next stop by the table, our friendly server gave me a quick lesson on how (and how not) to pour wine.

And this is why I never worry about being single on Valentine's Day.

P.S. You know you've had too much wine when you mean to say "in limbo," and it accidentally comes out "in libido." Whoops. Hehehe.

Happy (Early) Valentine's Day!

2009-02-13T09:41:00.006-05:00

This year's valentines:

To Frenchy:
Roses are red,
Daisies are white.
I can't wait to be your date
On Saturday night!

To Slim:
Roses are red
And dewy at dawn.
I'm so much happier
Now that you're gone.

To Philly and Ron:
Roses are red,
And so are our hearts.
Happy Anniversary,
You two old farts!

Leave Michael Alone!

2009-02-09T09:32:00.003-05:00

I can't believe Kellogg's decided not to renew their sponsorship contract with Michael Phelps, simply because he got caught smoking a little weed. According to Kellogg's, that kind of behavior is not consistent with their "image."

This seems kind of ironic, considering that pot-smoking kids with the munchies probably make up the majority of people eating Kellogg's products. Maybe the cereal makers should rethink their position on this issue.

Philly told me that she thinks all of the college-aged kids in this country should show their support for Michael by speaking out in his defense and by refusing to buy Kellogg's products. Unfortunately, I told her, most of the people in that demographic are probably drunk and high all the time, and therefore lack the energy and resolve to take any kind of action on Michael's behalf. They're too busy napping.

The District

2009-02-05T16:53:00.003-05:00

If you're a fan of The Hills or The City on MTV, then you will love The District.

If you're not a fan of those shows, then you will REALLY love The District. (I mean, assuming you've seen them. If not, you won't fully appreciate the satire.)

Thanks, Newsweek. Mondays just got a little better.

Drugstore Conundrum

2009-02-03T11:01:00.004-05:00

Turns out, my sore throat last week was the first stage of a horrendous cold and, because (as Philly has kindly informed me) I have the loudest cough in the history of coughs, I decided to do my coworkers a favor and buy some cough drops. As I was reaching for the Halls Honey-Lemon variety at the drugstore, I noticed that the Walgreens brand had the same flavor and, unlike the pricier Halls version, they were two for 99 cents. Sold!

Here's what I don't get. While the Halls cough drops are branded with the letter "H," which makes perfect sense, the generic ones are branded with the letter "B," which, according to my observations, makes no sense whatsoever. I have searched the package for something that would indicate why these drops would be marked with a B, but I came up with nothing. They do contain menthol ("M"), are somewhat lemony ("L"), and supposedly suppress coughs ("C"). They come from Walgreens, which would lead one to expect a "W," despite that letter's otherwise negative connotation during recent years. But the letter "B" appears to have no relevance whatsoever to either the product or the brand. What gives?

I call bullshit ("B").

Stream of Consciousness

2009-01-30T09:03:00.005-05:00

(Note: This monster-of-a-post was actually written on Thursday night, but since I don’t have Internet at home right now, I had to type it as a Word document, save it, and copy and paste it into Blogger at work this morning. My friends, that’s dedication.)

I’m running a low grade fever right now, and it’s just warm enough for my brain to be a little fuzzy. This should make for some interesting blogging. Also, I have so much to write about!

First of all, as for the fever, I haven’t quite figured out what is causing it. My throat’s been sore since Sunday, and usually when I have a sore throat like that, it means I’m getting a cold. However, said sore throat also usually only lasts a day or two, and it’s definitely been longer than two days. I don’t feel sick enough to have strep throat, and I’ve already had mono, so who knows. It’s probably just a terrible cold that’s taking its sweet time to “brew.”

Secondly, I love how, whenever I’m sick, everyone I know has a different suggestion for what I should do/take to get better. One of my aunts, for instance, is convinced that Alka-Seltzer will cure absolutely anything, maybe even AIDS. Philly, on the other hand, believes that apple cider vinegar is the remedy to end all remedies, so she suggests drinking as much of it as I can possibly stand. Which, I’m here to tell you, ain’t much. And then there’s Teeny, who is a veritable treasure chest when it comes to home remedies. She told me to take four thousand milligrams of Vitamin C (not an exaggeration) and to use ear candles, as she claims this one-two punch recently cured her own case of strep throat.

Personally, I’m a big fan of sleeping it off. But then, I’m a big fan of sleeping in general.

Also, I have recently proven my own theory, which is that, although I may only be 26, I have the body of an 85-year-old woman. I mean, it’s not wrinkly (yet), but I do have the joints (and ailments…see: shingles) of an octogenarian. You know those pill boxes with a separate compartment for each day of the week? I am now officially carrying one of those in my purse. And each slot is FULL. True, some of that is vitamins and supplements, but still. Octogenarian.

In other news, as you may or may not have gathered from my vague references, Slim and I were recently seeing each other again. Don’t ask me why; I don’t know. I think it was clear to both of us that that ship had sailed a long time ago, but leave it to us to beat the proverbial dead horse. And leave it to me to use one too many metaphors in once sentence. Point is, when I got home from Tunica the other day, we talked on the phone and pretty much came to the mutual conclusion that, whatever passion we may have once had (and I’m not even sure we did), it’s completely gone now, and we’re really doing each other a disservice by pretending we’re still in love.

And that was that.

I don’t know if men have radar or what, but I swear to you, not even twelve hours after the “breakup,” I heard from another guy whom I used to date, all the way back in early 2005. And he doesn’t even live here any more. He said he might be coming to town soon, and he’d like to take me to dinner while he’s here. I don’t know that it would lead to anything, but the timing certainly is interesting.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. Philly warned me about men “coming around again” (she’s such a Carly Simon fan). Of course, this particular guy didn’t really go out of my life willingly; I just sort of stopped talking to him. Perhaps it was the lack of a dramatic ending that has kept him intrigued. It’s just not what they’re used to.

So…The Office just came on, and I don’t care if it is a rerun, this shit is funny. I mean, how can you not love these people? I could totally do a show about The Firm. I should look into that.

Alright, back to my (mental) list of things I wanted to write about. There’s just so much. So, Philly and I got back from Tunica the other night, and while I was gone, my landlords came to fix my toilet, which had been running constantly for, like, the past three weeks. First of all, the thought of someone being in my apartment really bothers me in general. It’s not that I have anything to hide; I just don’t like the idea of someone looking through my shit. And who are we kidding, you know you look through people’s shit when you know you won’t get caught. To make matters worse, it appears that my landlords didn’t bother to bring a towel with them, and I don’t know what went down while they were here, but a) the bathtub was filthy, and b) my hand towel—yes, my hand towel—was draped over the side of the tub, still soaking wet. What the fuuuuuuuuuck. Is this acceptable landlord behavior? I think not.

Random interjection: I can not get the bottle of NyQuil open. And all of my neighbors are girls. What the hell am I supposed to do here? Also, the TV just asked what 3 Rock times 10 Rock is, and the answer was “30 Rock!” Um, no, I believe it’s 30 Rock squared. Boo-yah, NBC. (Twenty minutes later: After several attempts, involving rubber gloves, a towel, salad tongs, and pliers, I have finally opened the bottle of NyQuil. Let it never be said that I let child-proofing get the best of me. Candy—1, NyQuil—0.)

Second random interjection: I just called Target to get a $16 late charge on my credit card bill removed, and the guy on the phone told me he could credit me seven dollars. “That’s not what I want,” I said. “I want the whole sixteen dollars credited. I sent my bill before it was due, and it arrived one day after the due date. Also, I paid the balance in full.” “Okay,” he said [in an accent I could barely understand, of course], “I see you have been our customer for more than ten years, so I am going to credit sixteen dollars to your account. Your new balance is zero.”

Tee hee hee. (I would like to note, however, that I have not been a Target credit card customer for ten years. Ten years ago, I was 16. But I didn’t tell him that. On the other hand, I have been shopping at Target for more than ten years, as evidenced by the fact that, while I still had my baby teeth--thank goodness--I once fell flat on my face in Target, resulting in my two front teeth being just a little bit gray until they fell out and my permanent ones grew in. Which just reiterates the point that Target owed me that sixteen dollars. For pain and suffering.)

Okay, back to the trip to Tunica. Before now, I had never stayed in a casino for five straight nights. Well, except in Vegas, of course, but that doesn’t count, because in Vegas I rarely make it back to my room before dawn. But I digress. What I learned on this trip is that, once you’ve spent about three nights staying in a casino hotel and have eaten the majority of your meals in that same casino’s restaurants, it starts to feel like, well, home. I got so comfortable that, eventually, I wasn’t even taking my purse with me to the casino, just my ID and some cash. When I got hungry, I went to the “kitchen” (the buffet), and when I wanted something to do, I went to the “living room” (the poker room) or the “den” (the Keno lounge). When I got tired, I went back up to the bedroom. I am such a casino rat.

Incidentally, Tunica is the first place I’ve ever eaten at a casino buffet. In Vegas, we never eat at the buffet, as there are so many other interesting options. I’m not a big fan of buffets in general, because I don’t like how everyone’s getting up to get more food at different times, so you never really eat together. Also, I don’t normally eat enough to get my money’s worth at all-you-can-eat buffets. However, in Tunica, eating at the buffet is the same price (or less) as any of the other restaurants, so that’s where we usually end up eating. And where else would we be able to have lasagna, enchiladas, and General Tso’s chicken, all on the same plate? Gross.

As for the poker, I didn’t win any tournaments this time, which I blame partly on the fact that I was sick, partly on the fact that I didn’t catch cards the entire time I was down there, and partly on my lack of skill. Okay, mostly on my lack of skill. I did sit beside a true “pro” (Was he a pro? At this point, we don’t know. If you get that reference, you’re my new best friend.) during the World Series of Poker Circuit tournament that I entered, and that was pretty cool. He wasn’t famous or anything, but he was a damn good card player. Also a total ass, but that’s to be expected. With more than 600 people, this was by far the biggest tournament I’ve ever entered, and even though I only lasted five and a half hours, it was still really fun. I felt like I was at the real WSOP main event.

Because I wasn’t feeling well, I spent a lot of time in the hotel room, mostly reading and watching CNN. I read two cute books that I had recently ordered from Amazon: French Milk and I Was Told There’d Be Cake. (Apparently I am more likely to order books that have food or drinks in the title.) What I did not do was get on the Internet, for FIVE DAYS STRAIGHT. I was soooo jonesing by the time I got home. Naturally, as soon as we walked in the door at Philly’s, I ran straight to the computer and got on Facebook to look at all the status updates I had missed. Philly does not understand why this was so pressing. I’m not sure I do either.

Before we left Tunica, Philly and I stopped at the Gap Outlet, which has become somewhat of a tradition for us, mainly because we both have raging shopping addictions. I am not kidding—it’s bad. At least on my part. Only a few days before, I had received several items that I had ordered online from Old Navy, and how sad is this: For the first time ever, they got one of my items wrong (it was supposed to be a pink-and-white-striped pullover sweater, and instead they sent a solid black cardigan…however, it was my size…), and instead of calling to complain, I just decided to keep it. Philly is convinced that I have ordered so many clothes from Old Navy that they have decided to assign me a personal shopper, and she (or he) thought I would like the cardigan more than the pullover. Of course, I already have two other black cardigans, but this one is different. And new.

Confessions of a (Bargain) Shopaholic.

Finally, upon returning to work on Thursday, I came to the realization that, once you’re in the real world, vacations can sometimes be more trouble than they’re worth. Sure, it’s nice having a few days away from the office, but good Lord is it a pain when you have to come back to an overflowing inbox and a whole new pile of work. Sheesh.

Okay, are y’all tired of me yet? (Yes.)

I’m out. (Literally, that NyQuil is starting to kick in.)

In Denial About My Age

2009-01-23T11:58:00.005-05:00

Someone recently pointed out to me that, for being 26 years old, I sure do have a lot of clothes from American Eagle, a store whose target audience is people about 10-12 years younger than me. What can I say, I really liked what they were selling in Fall 2007 and Spring 2008. (Not so much Fall 2008, though. Very meh.) On the other hand, I did feel kind of silly when I took some clothes into the dressing room at A.E. last year, and one of the sales girls asked me if I was buying clothes for Spring Break. (On the other hand, I guess that means I look young enough to still be going on Spring Break, so that's pretty cool.)

Another store I occasionally shop in, whose target audience is (spoiled) teenagers, is Abercrombie. I would like to say, however, that I refuse to buy anything from A&F that is not on clearance, and also that I think the volume of the music in there is ricockulous. I do like the overpowering smell emanating from it, though. In fact, the three items I bought there last week have that smell (which, according to Wikipedia is their Fierce cologne) practically embedded in the fibers, which I just love. I'm such a sucker for good marketing.

But this leads me to my question (wow, I've really rambled today), which is: Would it be weird if I wore a fragrance that is *technically* made for men? I mean, should it matter which gender it's designed for, as long as the scent makes me happy? I've been wearing Body by Victoria for a couple of years now (which, by the way, I always get complimented on), but I'm ready for a little variety. Just something I'm pondering.

By the way, I'm leaving this afternoon to go to Tunica for a few days. Wish me luck in the poker tourneys.

Like You Care.

2009-01-22T09:15:00.004-05:00

I dreamed last night that I was going to be in a production of the Broadway musical Hairspray...on ice. However, since I'm not the greatest ice skater, my character was going to spend most of her time sitting in a recliner.

Just thought I'd share that with you.

Better Get Moving.

2009-01-19T14:08:00.003-05:00

Someone much less intelligent and not nearly as attractive as me (Slim) recently pointed out that I would get a hell of a lot more done if I would spend less time making lists and more time doing other things. I took one look at him and said, "Get the hell out of my apartment, you fucking asshole bastard loser" (which is my new favorite term that I had been looking for an opportunity to use), and then I happily went back to my list-making. From now on, I bet he'll think twice before he criticizes the way I spend my time.

Incidentally, the list I was working on at the time was called Things I Want To Do Before I'm 30, and because I have nothing else to do right now (except write that damn brief that I'm supposed to be working on), I've decided to share it with you.

1. Go back to school. I'm not sure that I'm sold on the idea of being a lawyer. For one thing, I don't really like sitting at a desk all day. Also, I don't like dressing up. So, I recently ordered one of those GRE prep books, and I think I'm going to go back to school and get a master's degree. At some point.

2. Work in a bar or winery. When I recently told one of my manfriends that I wanted to work as a cocktail waitress, he looked at me like I was crazy. "Candy, he said, "you have a law degree." So what? There are certain things I want to do in my life, and I don't think the fact that I have a law degree should keep me from doing them. I also think it would be fun to work in the tasting room at a winery.

3. Go to Europe. I've been to Europe twice. When I was 16, I went with my high school marching band to London for a week (okay, you can stop laughing now), and when I was 18, I spent a few weeks in Spain and a few days in Portugal. There's a lot more that I want to see, and as soon as that $5,000 that I'm supposed to be getting from Grandma comes through (damn probate), I'm going to plan a 4-6 week trip.

4. Write a book. I already have my topic and title; now I just need to sit down and actually write the damn thing. It's nonfiction, in case you're wondering.

5. Take a Southern roadtrip. I am such a geek that I've already planned the route I would take across the southern half of the United States. Preferably in an RV.

6. Spend two weeks in California. I want to start in wine country and work my way south, ending up in San Diego. I figure it'll take me a couple of weeks to see everything I want to see, including my family, which is split among Fresno, LA, and prison.

7. Live in another city. This Knoxville Girl needs to experience life outside of this town! Maybe I'll go to school somewhere else, although just the thought of not being at the University of Tennesssee makes my insides hurt. I think it's all that orange blood coursing through my veins.

8. Start a new blog. I've thought about starting an anonymous one (because there are sooo many things I've wanted to blog about but haven't been able to), but I think people would know it was me. So now I've decided that I want to start a topic blog. I'm still thinking on the topic.

Cinemaholic

2009-01-15T08:53:00.008-05:00

There aren't many TV shows that I think are worth watching. Thursday nights on NBC are an exception, as are some of the shows on the premium channels. And who doesn't love the History Channel? (I'm guessing a lot of people.)

Point is, I would much prefer to spend my evenings watching movies than watching mindless TV, and I have been watching a LOT of movies lately. I've decided to go movie-critic on you today, and share my opinions on some of the ones I've seen in the past few weeks.

Note: With the exception of one, these are all movies I have gotten from either Netflix or On Demand (i.e., they're not new).

The Squid and the Whale
Three stars. The kid who plays the character that cusses all the time was the highlight for me. I think he's gonna go places. This movie is subdued, kind of like a Wes Anderson film, but it has some funny moments.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2
One star. I liked the first one, but this one was not good.

The Savages
Three stars. Good acting, but rather depressing. I mean, it's about putting someone in a nursing home, and how exciting can that be?

Coal Miner's Daughter
Four and a half stars. I love this movie so much that I've watched it three times in the past three weeks. Sissy Spacek totally deserved the Oscar she won for playing Loretta Lynn. Oh, Doo.

Slumdog Millionaire
Four and a half stars. This is a great movie, but you've probably already heard that from everybody else. I thought it was really sad. But, compared to a lot of the other crap that came out this year, it's a damn masterpiece.

Hostel
One star. I know several people who saw this movie when it was at the theater, and they all told me the same thing: Don't go see this movie. I knew it was about torture, which completely repulses me, but curiosity got the better of me when I noticed that it was On Demand last week. All I have to say is, I hope I never piss off the guy who wrote that screenplay. His imagination runs a little too wild.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Four stars. Casey Affleck and I would totally be a couple, if not for that pesky wife of his. His acting in this movie is wonderful, and Philly and I have agreed that he is way sexier than Ben. I just think all of the acting in this movie is great, and if you haven't seen it, then you should make that a priority. Like, maybe this weekend, when it's eight degrees outside (at least, where I live).

The Darjeeling Limited
Three stars. I really liked how this movie started off, but it sort of lost me near the end. There were some things I loved, though, like the idea for laminated itineraries. I am so doing that for my next vacation. I really like what Wes Anderson does as a director, but I'm still waiting for a movie that I like as much as The Royal Tenenbaums. None of his other films have come close to that one, in my mind. And I think he and Owen Wilson might be butt buddies.

The Verdict
Three stars. Philly told me I should watch this movie because, you know, it's about lawyering and such. I liked it, but I think it's one of those movies that you have to watch a couple of times to really appreciate.

Bobby
Four stars. I seem to remember that this movie didn't get the best reviews when it came out, but I really enjoyed it, especially the montage right before Robert Kennedy gets shot, set to the song The Sounds of Silence. Very moving.

Gone Baby Gone
Three stars. It would have gotten four, except for the fact that I had to rewind every other scene to figure out what the hell Casey Affleck's character was saying. (I still love you, Casey.)

I'm Not as Sweet as I Used to Be.

2009-01-14T11:49:00.004-05:00

I have decided that you are just not a true Southern woman unless, at least once a month or so, something happens in your life that brings to mind a line from the movie Steel Magnolias.

For instance, a little while ago I was thinking about how depressed I always get around this time of the year, and I couldn't help but hear Ouiser's voice in my mind: "I'm not crazy, I've just been in a very bad mood for the last 40 years!"

I think I've been in a bad mood for the last four years. Although there are certainly people out there who would say I'm just crazy.

I'm sorry I haven't blogged much lately, but the wireless Internet at my apartment has once again become "unavailable," and I haven't really had time to do any posting at the office. (Damn plaintiffs' cases are driving me nuts.) If I had been without Internet at home a couple of years ago, I think I would have gone insane (I couldn't have lived without Instant Messenger), but now I'm kind of enjoying the freedom. At least I have something to look forward to when I get to work in the morning. (Checking Facebook, of course.) And I've certainly been getting my money's worth from Comcast's On Demand service.

I'll try to post something more substantial (and interesting) soon.

Friday Five

2009-01-09T13:07:00.006-05:00

A few random facts about me:

1. I wash my face with Johnson's Head-to-Toe Baby Wash. Because it's tear-free, of course.

2. Even though the girls on The Hills represent everything I dislike about females, I still watch the show. Where else am I gonna get fashion ideas?

3. I am not allowed to have a cat at my apartment, per my lease agreement. But I'm thinking about getting one anyway. And I am so getting it one of these.

4. I have been eating ridiculous amounts of banana popsicles lately. I always crave them when I'm hungover (which is probably my body's way of telling me that I need to eat a freakin' banana). One morning I actually brought one to work and ate it for breakfast.

5. I can take naps in socks, but when I go to bed at night, the socks have got to come off. Otherwise, I'll never fall asleep.

Lingerers

2009-01-09T10:01:00.007-05:00

Are you stag or drag?

This is usually the first thing out of Philly's mouth when I talk to her on the phone on the weekends. What she means is, are you by yourself, or do you have one of your no-good ex-boyfriends tagging along? Odds are, the answer is "drag."

Guy and Doll

2009-01-08T10:54:00.007-05:00

All of the comments about "Pinto" and Animal House have reminded me of my first "date" with Bud, way back in 2001.

It was my freshman year at UT, and Bud was the cute frat boy I'd been making eye contact with during rehearsals for All Sing, which my sorority and his fraternity had partnered up for. That year, we were performing numbers from Guys and Dolls.

On the night of the dress rehearsal, Bud and I were standing in line to show our student ID's, which you had to do to prove that you were a student (so none of the groups could cheat by bringing in professional singers). We finally had our first conversation, when he noticed that we both had big cracks across our ID's. (Mine was cracked because I usually kept it in my shoe when I went to the Campus Pub on Wednesday nights in my black stretchy pants with no pockets, and I didn't take a purse. Give it up for 2001!)

After All Sing, Bud and I started "talking," which was, in my mind, a precursor to dating, and in his mind (I assume), a precursor to sex. Like most college students in 2001, we did the majority of our talking on IM (the precursor to texting) and at parties (while we were drunk). Since Bud had neither money nor a car, there weren't a whole lot of options when it came to dates. For our first one, he invited me over to his dorm room to watch Animal House.

First of all, in typical Bud fashion, Bud had signed up late for university housing, and had therefore been assigned to a room on a floor that had strict visitation rules, meaning girls were not allowed to come over on weeknights. Of course, this was a weeknight. So I had to sneak in.

Second of all, true to his penchant for disobedience, Bud had stolen most of the furniture from his dorm's study lounge and had used it to furnish his room. So there we sat on the university's "couch," getting ready to watch Animal House, which I'd never seen before.

Luckily (luck be a lady tonight...), we did have the room to ourselves, as Bud's roommate had left school to enter rehab, after Bud came home one night to find him nearly dead from some kind of overdose and had called 911. Typ.

I don't remember much about that night, except being embarrassed when the cheap beer I was drinking (well, he offered) made me burp about fifty times. (How attractive.) And I definitely don't remember a thing about the movie. As if I could have paid attention to the TV during a time like that! You could have cut the sexual tension in that room with a knife.

And so began the saga.

2009 Resolutions

2009-01-02T10:04:00.005-05:00

It would be completely out of character for me to have just one New Year's Resolution, because, after all, making lists is what I do best. So, here is my list of Things To Do in '09:

1. Volunteer, preferably with children. I've always thought I would be a good elementary school teacher, but it appears that life has taken me down a different path. Still, I would like to be involved with children in some way, and since I don't plan on having any of my own for a long time, I think volunteering would be a good way to get in some quality time with the little people.

2. Read more. When you spend as much time reading at work as I do, it's kinda hard to want to pick up a book during your free time. I'm going to try to do it more often.

3. Control the list-making. Clearly, I've gotten a good start on this one already. Since I know that I can't control the amount of lists that I make (mostly "To Do" lists), my goal is to limit them to one location, my new planner. We'll see how this goes.

4. Have the garage sale that Philly and I have been "planning" for three years. That, or open a consignment shop that only sells clothing in sizes Small and Medium.

5. Spend more time with my family. I'm thinking that, since the last time the women in my family got together for something other than a funeral was in 2005, it's about time for us to have a Girl Trip. Perhaps a weekend in a cabin in the mountains? I need to get to work on planning this. In my new planner.

The Poker Express

2008-12-29T10:49:00.005-05:00

After spending Christmas night in Nashville with the Burgundy family, Philly and I were not at all excited about doing the kid-related stuff that the rest of the family would be doing on Friday and Saturday, which we perceived as involving way too much holiday cheer and not nearly enough holiday beer. Just call us Mrs. and Miss Scrooge (or, "lushes").

One of us (Philly) pointed out that we were in such close proximity to Tunica (well, three and half hours away), that we might as well drive down there and stay for a night. Because, when it comes to casinos, she and I are like moths to a freakin' flame.

Also, as usual, Philly had a couple of free nights at Sam's Town, so we figured we'd only be paying for gas, food, and whatever money we wanted to gamble with. So we packed up The Poker Express (also known as Philly's Mazda CX-7) and hightailed it to northern Mississippi. Where, for the life of me, I can't understand a word anyone says. But anyhoo.

After checking in and getting settled, we headed straight for the poker room, to see if there were any Texas Hold'em tournaments going on that evening. There was one scheduled at 7:00 p.m., and we both decided to enter it.

And guess what. I won! My first win in a "real" tournament! (I've won a free tournament before, and I've also won a one-table satellite tournament, but never one where there were 56 people and a sizable pot.) Okay, so actually I chopped the pot with three other people. BUT...I was the chip leader. And I probably could have played it out, but I was pretty damn happy with the amount I won ($1,000), and to be honest, I was also getting kind of hungry.

As is always the case when I play poker, I became a better player as the tournament progressed (at one point managing to come back from only having one chip!), and I also learned a few things. Such as:

1. I am a much better poker player when I take Xanax.

2. The best words you can hear during a poker tournament are: "Congratulations. You've made it to the money."

3. Always beware of a man who's drinking pina fucking coladas at the poker table.

4. Playing poker with strangers is much more fun than playing with people you know.

5. Playing with men is much more fun than playing with women.

6. Playing with twenty-something men sucks. (P-R-I-C-K-S.)

7. Being the only woman at the final table is a high in and of itself.

and

8. Actually WINNING a tournament is the most fun you can have with your clothes on!

At one point while I was at the final table, some guy came up to watch (we had several onlookers) and said, in reference to me, "Chip leader and drinkin' a beer. That's my kinda girl." Hehehe. I told him to call me later. (Not really.)

I guess winning must have given me the poker bug, because I'm already planning our next trip!

Piece of Cake

2008-12-22T13:08:00.008-05:00

Holy crap. Someone sent an Orange Juice Cake to The Firm today, and I practically had to lock myself in my office to keep from eating the whole damn thing. I asked around and managed to find the recipe, and if you're wanting to make something delicious for Christmas breakfast, then I would highly recommend this.

Orange Juice Cake

Cake:
1 box yellow cake mix (Duncan Hines Classic)
1 box instant vanilla pudding
4 eggs
1 cup orange juice
½ cup oil

Mix together and bake in a bundt pan at 325° for 35-45 minutes.

Glaze:
1 cup sugar
1 stick butter
½ cup orange juice

Mix together in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn down slightly and boil 2 minutes. Pour over cake while still in bundt. Let it set for 30 minutes (if possible).

I love the "if possible" at the end. As if people are going to be ripping it out of your hands the moment it's done, and letting it cool for 30 minutes is just completely out of the question.

On second thought, having tried this cake, I think 30 minutes is definitely out of the question.

P.S. While searching through The Firm's recipes (I work with a bunch of Southern women, so of course we have a recipe file), I found one for "Wiener Casserole." Really? Is that what we have to call it?

Because You Asked.

2008-12-18T13:21:00.004-05:00

In a recent comment, someone requested an update on Cal. I'm sure you guys have noticed that I haven't mentioned him in awhile.

Turns out, I was right. Long-distance "dating" is not for me. It's nothing against Cal; I'm just not one of those people who likes to spend a lot of time on the phone. I'd rather be doing more productive things at night, like painting my nails and watching movies.

Incidentally, I watched Tootsie for the first time last night. Hilarious. Best line of the movie: "Does Jeff know?"

I about died.

Anyhoo, the bottom line is, I'm single again. Which, according to one of my manfriends, was bound to happen sooner than later. I think I have relationship A.D.D.

Inquiry

2008-12-16T15:14:00.003-05:00

Has anyone ever tried hypnosis as a way to quit smoking? My aunt did it a couple of years ago, and I don't think she has had a cigarette since. I'm wondering if other people have been this successful.

I'm also curious whether you have to actually want to quit smoking in order for hypnosis to work.

See, my problem is, even though I know that cigarettes are incredibly unhealthy and make me feel (and smell) icky, I still love them. I think of smoking as a way to decompress, and when I'm at home in the evenings, it's an excuse to go sit outside for a few minutes, which is something I don't really do otherwise (at least not when I'm by myself).

But I hate being dependent on nicotine, and I hate being ashamed for doing something that is so politically incorrect.

Basically, I have a love-hate relationship with smoking.

I've tried Chantix, and although it works really well while I'm actually on the medication, I've found that I start smoking again every time I quit taking it. And I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to take this stuff indefinitely.

So...any thoughts on hypnosis?

Weird Sh*t

2008-12-15T09:56:00.006-05:00

I very rarely see movies at the theater any more, mostly because the time between a film's original release date and the date it gets released on DVD has become ridiculously short. Unless I see a movie on opening weekend, or unless I just hear from a lot of people that a movie is really great, I'm usually content to wait until I can get it from Netflix. (On the other hand, seeing a movie during opening weekend can sometimes prove to be a mistake, like, for instance, when I went to see Sex and the City on the day it came out and wanted to KILL half the people in the audience. With that one, I kind of wish I had waited.)

Anyhoo, this past Friday night, I had intended to go downtown with a friend, to check out all of the Christmas lights and maybe grab a few drinks, but when I heard that the temperature was going to be in the 20's, that plan lost a lot of its appeal. Which is how I ended up at the indie movie theater, to see Synecdoche, New York. A guy I work with had literally gushed about this movie, saying that it was the best film he had seen in ages and that it had instantly become one of his all-time favorites. With a review like that, I had to go see it, right?

Wrong. That movie is weird.

The thing is, I like to think of myself as the type of person who can appreciate weird, independent-type movies. I enjoy movies with a subdued tone (a la The Royal Tenenbaums), and most of my favorite films are the quirky, cult-classic types. But Synecdoche, New York...I just didn't get it. I mean, I think I understood its message or theme or what have you, but it terms of how that message was conveyed, it was just weird. Not that I wouldn't mind watching it again, but I definitely wouldn't put it in my list of favorites.

And speaking of "weird," I discovered something very, very odd this weekend, so odd that I'm really kind of dumbfounded by the strangeness of it. But first, I need to share a little background information. Several weeks ago, on Halloween night actually, I met a guy at a bar. (Imagine that.) After we chatted for a few minutes, he asked if I'd like to go out sometime, and because he seemed nice enough, I gave him my number. It was actually a couple of weeks before we met for our first date (in the meantime I caught a cold), but during the interim he befriended me on Facebook, which is something I guess most people do these days when they meet someone, if only to do a preliminary check on whether that person is, in fact, somewhat normal. After checking out this guy's profile, I wasn't sure whether we were really compatible for anything long term, but I figured, what the heck, there's no harm in going out a couple of times.

So...this guy and I went out for the first time on November 14th, and then again on November 21st and 28th. After our third date, I never heard from him again, and as much as that's a blow to the ego, I didn't really mind him not calling, because as I mentioned before, I didn't see us having much of a future. Of course, we're still friends on Facebook, which has the benefit (not) of allowing you to see exactly what someone is up to, even when you don't necessarily want to know.

And this is where the weirdness comes in. You're not going to believe this, but when I signed on to Facebook yesterday, I was greeted by the news (via the newsfeed page that you see when you log in) that this dude got MARRIED on Saturday. Yes, that's right, only two weeks after going out on his last date with me, this guy has now promised to spend the rest of his life with someone else. I know what you're probably thinking: either he was just getting his last kicks in with me before tying the knot, or he suddenly rekindled a relationship with someone from his past and decided he couldn't live without her.

Here's the thing, though. Everyone he knows appears to be just as shocked as I am, at least judging from the responses on his Facebook wall. It appears that this guy has completely lost his mind.

As Philly astutely pointed out, the only thing that would have been weirder would be if it turned out that the reason he never called again was that he had died. Although, I don't know. This is pretty weird.

Of course, I hope for the best for this guy and his new family (apparently, he's a stepfather now, as well), but damn! That was quick.

Also on the topic of weirdness (what is it with me today?), I have been craving the strangest foods lately. Yes, I realize what that is usually a sign of, but I honestly don't think that's the case here. My first craving was for a Whopper from Burger King, and that one can be explained by the fact that it seems like every time I've turned the radio on recently, there's been a commercial for Whoppers. Before yesterday, I hadn't eaten a Whopper since high school, but last night, I just had to have one. I guess that's a sign of effective advertising.

My other craving has been for banana popsicles. I had two last night, and then another one for breakfast this morning. This one is a little weirder, I think. But I honestly think it was due to all the wine and rum I drank on Saturday night, and I was really just thirsty. For some reason, banana popsicles hit the spot. I think that banana is definitely the best flavor.

Too Picky?

2008-12-11T16:23:00.005-05:00

I was talking to my ex-boyfriend Slim the other day, and I was giving him a hard time (because that's what I do best) about the fact that he never wears cologne. Not that I think all guys should wear cologne all the time, but you know, it's nice every once in awhile. If only to cover up the sweat.

Me: Did you wear it when you went out with that one girl?

Him: No.

Me: Well, that's why she never went out with you again! I mean, hell, I've stopped seeing guys for less.

Him: Yeah, but you don't count. Your reasoning is flawed.

Me: My how-I-decide-on-a-mate reasoning?

Him: Yes.

Me: You're probably right. I do have a lot of deal-breakers.

Him: Yeah, like, "Doesn't wipe his feet off before he comes in."

Me: Come on, that's huge. It's not just the mud on the carpet, but it's what it REPRESENTS.

Him: What does it represent?

Me: Lack of conscientiousness.

Him: So you're telling me that you would stop seeing someone because he forgot to wipe his feet off before he came into your apartment?

Me: Well, not after the first time.

Him: You're crazy.

I think maybe he's right.

Season's Feastings

2008-12-11T09:34:00.006-05:00

Anyone who has worked with Southern women knows that, during the holidays, we like to eat at the office. A lot. Cookies, muffins, cakes, snack mix...you name it, and one of the ladies you work with has probably brought in enough of it to feed a small army. And no matter how much of it she brought, it was almost completely gone within twenty minutes. I say "almost," because no one likes to eat the last serving of anything. It's like it makes us feel guilty or something, as if everyone who took the rest of the servings felt bad at all as they wolfed them down.

Today, one of the ladies at my office truly outdid herself, making breakfast for the entire office (thirty-something people). And it wasn't just the usual muffins or coffee cake...nope, she made cheese grits, biscuits and gravy, and fruit salad with pecans. I mean, I'm lucky to get out of bed on time every morning, much less be up early enough to prepare a Paula Deen-style meal for everyone. Sheesh.

And last week we had our annual Holiday Luncheon, which involves all of The Firm "staff" preparing lunch for the attorneys, in order to thank us for all that we do. (Shouldn't it be the other way around???) Of course, the staff eats as well (not just the attorneys), and thank goodness they do, because most of the attorneys here are men, and from what I've noticed, they're very hesitant to try anything that they can't identify every ingredient in. Despite the vast array of casseroles and salads that were available, I noticed most of the attorneys sticking to the more "traditional" items, like ham, turkey, green beans, stuffing, and deviled eggs.

I, on the other hand, took a small (and by "small," I mean "hefty") serving of every single dish there, resulting in several sheepish looks from my co-workers, especially when I cleaned (and practically licked) my plate. I may be small, but I can eat more than most people I know. Some of the dishes that I thought were especially yummy were the pineapple casserole (which I'd heard about before but never tried), the 7-layer salad (a perennial favorite for me), the hashbrown casserole (it rivaled Cracker Barrel's hashbrown casserole, and that's saying a lot), and the cheesy artichoke squares (because I pretty much love anything that involves artichokes).

I am not lying when I say that, after lunch that day, I couldn't move for several hours. It was definitely worth it.

With The Firm's annual Attorney Christmas Party coming up this weekend (whoever said the caste system was dead obviously hasn't been to The Firm) and our office-wide Christmas Party/Lunch coming up next week, it looks like I'm going to be resorting to wearing sweatpants for the next several weeks. I'm sure a lot of you can identify.

Holidaze

2008-12-08T15:37:00.006-05:00

I don't know if it's the fact that it's been abnormally cold for the past few weeks, or if it's that all of the talk about The Recession has me afraid to spend any money, but I have been VERY late in getting started on my Christmas shopping this year. Like, just-bought-my-first-present-yesterday kind of late. And I have eleven people to buy for (not including myself, of course), so I have a lot to do between now and the 25th.

I've been told by both of my parents (separately, because they're divorced) that we'll be having a "modest" Christmas this year (translation: you ain't gettin' shit), so I guess I'll be buying myself a few of the things on my wish list, like one of those new, inexpensive mini-laptops, which are apparently called "netbooks." I know I could just get a BlackBerry or an iPhone if I want to have portable Internet access, but I still like the idea of pulling out my laptop at the coffee shop and clacking away on a keyboard. I just don't like the idea of carrying my (current) laptop.

(FYI, I just Googled the word "clacking," to make sure that I was using it correctly, and you don't even want to know what that word's definition on Urban Dictionary is. Rest assured, I'm referring to the traditional meaning. At least in this post.)

In other news, on Saturday I went over to a friend's house to watch the SEC Championship, which I really had no stake in at all, but was watching anyway, in hopes that Florida would LOSE. Unfortunately, it didn't quite go that way.

There was a group of us hanging out to watch the game, a few girls but mostly guys. It was my favorite kind of "fest," if you know what I mean. (Philly is reading that, going, What in the hell? Football fest? Beerfest? What kind of fest???) It was a fairly uneventful afternoon and night (i.e., I was home by 11:00), but my favorite part of the evening was when one of the guys' girlfriends called on her way over, to see if anyone needed anything. Big mistake. I can only imagine what the cashier at the gas station was thinking as this 115-pound girl approached the counter with two cases of Natty Light and then proceeded to ask for two cans of dip. (Keep in mind, we're in the South).

Even more priceless was what our friend said to the two guys standing in line behind her, when they looked at her sheepishly after she asked for the dip. "I'm out," she said with a shrug.

Shucks.

2008-12-02T15:49:00.006-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that my blog is now listed as a secshully explicit website at several of my readers' workplaces.

Okay, first of all: Seriously???

And second of all: Sucks to be you guys!

And now that I wrote the word "sucks," I probably just got banned from a few more workplaces.

What am I supposed to do, y'all? Quit cussing? Quit writing about the juicy stuff? (Wait, I don't write about the juicy stuff...that much.)

You know, if men didn't sit at their desks looking at pourn all day (and yes, I misspelled that on purpose), then workplaces wouldn't have to ban websites. Purvs.

How Thoughtful

2008-11-30T23:14:00.006-05:00

When it comes to giving (and getting) presents, I have always been a fan of gift baskets. Not the pre-made kind that you buy when you don't know what else to get someone, but the kind you put together yourself. I love picking out several small gifts for someone, usually all involving some kind of theme (preferably secs*, drugs, or rock and roll), and then arranging them in a basket, bucket, or other handy container. Perhaps I should turn this into a business.

Anyhoo, I was hanging out with my friends "Bert" and "Ernie" last night, and Bert was telling me about the gift basket that he made for his eighty-something-year-old grandmother last Christmas.

It included:
A bottle of Jack Daniel's,
A bottle of vermouth,
A jar of cherries (for Manhattans),
A martini glass,
A bag of chocolates,
A carton of cigarettes, and
A gift card for her prescription medications.

I think Bert is pretty much the best grandson ever.

*Ed. note: Apparently I am going to have to remove certain words from my blogging vocabulary. Legally Brunette is getting too "explicit." Riiiiiight.

Wives and Ex-Wives

2008-11-25T16:19:00.003-05:00

My alma mater never ceases to make me proud to be a Volunteer.

UT President John Petersen's wife Carol has certainly made a name for herself. And I believe that name is "Bitch." I, of course, have no problem with her behavior at a recent social event; in fact, I think it's hilarious. But, for the sake of the university, Carol might need to go to the doctor and get some Happy Pills. Or maybe some hormones.

And UT Men's Basketball Coach Bruce Pearl's ex-wife Kim Shrigley has been in the news too, for the opening of her new salon, Alimony's. I love a woman with a sense of humor.

The Season of Giving

2008-11-21T13:16:00.003-05:00

After perusing several holiday gift guides, both in magazines and online, I have come to the realization that one of the following three things must be true:

1. Other people make a hell of a lot more money than I do;

2. Other people are accumulating an inordinate amount of debt during the holidays; or

3. People who make gift guides know damn well that no one spends that much money on Christmas presents, and they're just trying to make us all feel bad about ourselves for being so cheap.

Here's my holiday gift guide: Whatever's on sale at Kmart.

Love It

2008-11-19T19:00:00.000-05:00

I would totally use this.

All-Time Top Five

2008-11-18T18:19:00.003-05:00

Winter decided to rear its ugly head this weekend, and if the 10-day forecast on the weather website is any indication, it looks like it's here to stay. Personally, I'm not a fan of cold weather.

Which is why, on Sunday, when the temperature outside was frigid (in my book), I decided not to leave the house. At all. Instead, I spent the day and evening in my cozy (read: tiny) apartment, doing things like:

1) Napping (by far, my favorite activity);

2) Working (by far, my least favorite activity);

3) Spending way too much money at oldnavy.com ('cause the Internet is back on, at least temporarily); and

4) Watching the movie High Fidelity, which a friend recently recommended, and which also just happens to be available On Demand right now.

Although I didn't fall in love with the movie itself, I did like the fact that, throughout High Fidelity, the characters kept giving their "All-Time Top Five" lists of various things, like Most Memorable Break-Ups, Songs About Death, and Musical Crimes Perpetuated by Stevie Wonder in the '80s and '90s.

Naturally, this got me to thinking about my most memorable break-ups, which led me to conclude that I don't even think I've had five memorable break-ups, maybe three tops. Ending relationships is not exactly my forte. Instead of making a clean break, I tend to maintain contact with ex-boyfriends for months or even years after we've "broken up," and not even in a weird, one-sided, stalkerish way. There's almost always a mutual desire to "remain friends," which everyone knows is nearly impossible, but dammit I've tried.

Obviously, breaking up is something I need to work on.

Anyhoo, I was thinking about what kind of All-Time Top 5 list that I could make, i.e., what I'm kind of known for among my family members and small circle of friends and ex-boyfriends. And then it hit me: Weird Afflictions.

Anyone who knows me knows that, when I get sick, it is almost never something as simple as a cold or the flu. No, when I come down with something, it's practically inevitable that it will be some off-the-wall, rare illness that, half the time, can't even be explained.

So, without further ado:

My All-Time Top 5 Weird Afflictions.

1. Hives (1998).

One summer morning I woke up to discover that my body was completely covered in hives. I'm talking head to toe. Other people get hives because of an allergic reaction, usually to food, but I've never had a single food allergy, or any allergy for that matter (except fire ants, I am allergic to those). Not knowing what could have caused such an extreme condition, my parents became convinced that my years of tormenting the cat (causing her to occasionally lash out and swipe me with a paw) had caught up to me, resulting in me contracting Cat Scratch Fever. (These people never claimed to be doctors.) I went to the dermatologist that afternoon, to try to determine what had actually caused the hives (Cat Scratch Fever seemed far-fetched), but after a nurse pricked me seven times in an unsuccessful attempt to draw blood for testing, I said fuck this and went home. The next morning, the hives were completely, yet inexplicably, gone.

2. Arthritis (1999-present).

I can't pinpoint exactly when I started having problems with my knees, but I remember that it was sometime in high school and that I was able to drive myself to the physical therapist, so I'm guesstimating that it was around 1999. About once every 2-3 months, my knees "flare up," meaning that a large amount of fluid collects around the joints, causing them to be swollen and painful. I've tried physical therapy and I've tried taking Celebrex, but nothing has really helped, at least not long-term. I recently started taking glucosamine, which is supposed to be some kind of miracle supplement for joints, so we'll see how that goes. Otherwise, I will continue to have the knee joints of a 75-year-old who had a career as a baseball catcher.

3. Mononucleosis (2001).

Yes, I realize that mono is not all that uncommon, especially for college students, and I was, in fact, a freshman in college when I caught it. However, I didn't just have a regular case of mono, like other people get. I had the worst case of mono in the history of the disease. It was so bad that it caused my eardrum to burst in the middle of the night one night, and if that's never happened to you, then you should consider yourself lucky. It's rather painful. Oddly enough, I still managed to make straight A's that semester, even in Calculus, and I missed a test in that class. I think that's a testament to how mother-effing DUMB the rest of the students in that class were.

4. Recurring Arm Rash (2007-present).

I have yet to determine what is actually causing this affliction, but so far it has come and gone on three separate occasions. At one point, I actually thought it was a physiological reaction to seeing my ex-boyfriend Slim. I've also thought it might be due to stress, but whatever is causing it, I wish it would stop. The weird thing about this rash is that, not only does it come and go, but it also is limited to one place on my body: my inner forearms. And it itches, a lot. Thankfully, right now, it seems to be in remission. But that doesn't mean it won't be back. (Oh, and I have determined that it's not contagious.)

5. Shingles (2008).

Leave it to me to have gotten a disease normally reserved for old people. And like some of my other afflictions, this one was very painful. I would imagine that shingles are painful anywhere on your body, but I, of course, got them in the most painful place you could ever imagine: the mouth. Yes, that's right, I had painful blisters covering my entire tongue and throat. You can imagine how much fun eating was. (Actually, I didn't eat, for about five days.) The only bright side of having shingles in my mouth (as opposed to somewhere else) was that the mouth tends to heal more quickly than other parts of the body, so the shingles didn't last too long. Thank goodness, or I don't know if I would have survived!

Pretty impressive list, huh. And I'm only scratching the surface of all of the weird illnesses and reactions I've had, none of which have been contracted sexually, thank God.

But, as you can see, I'm pretty much the sickliest person you'll ever meet. I guess that's my claim to fame.

My Mom Is Cooler Than Yours Is

2008-11-14T13:37:00.005-05:00

Over lunch at the Apple Cake Tea Room today, Philly informed me that we'll be having a smaller Christmas this year, now that she's not working anymore.

"Money's tight right now; I'm down to seeds and stems."