Clay the Gay???

.... This is going to surprise everyone out there. Hope you're sitting down for this one! I hope you're sitting down for two reasons...
1. This news is SO shocking that you might collapse after reading this news.
2. How weird would it be if you were STANDING by your computer typing away. I know I'd make fun of you if I saw it. For the sake of your own pride, sit down while you're on the 'puter.

You ready?!?!?!? This just in: CLAY AIKEN IS A HOMOSEXUAL.

Surprised? Yeah, me neither. I think maybe only his Grandmother is surprised. Oh, and maybe all of those tweens who voted for her. Uh, I mean him. But, seriously, did you see his hair on his performance last season on American Idol?! He looked like a girl! Not even a girly man...just a girl.
Yup, he's "come out" in the latest issue of People magazine. Clay Aiken says, "Yes, I'm gay." I'm glad we straightened (no pun intended) that out! I bet the month after that the breaking story in People magazine is going to be... Ruben Studdard, "Yes, I'm fat."

Thanks for keeping it real People magazine.

No shoes, no shirt...here's the drink you ordered!

......................................
Here's a tip: Bartending nude can get you arrested.

Sheriff's deputies doing a routine check this week at a southern Illinois bar say they discovered a not-so-routine sight. Authorities allege that 33-year-old Janet Brannon was naked while serving bar patrons at the Cabin Tavern in Delhi (DEL'-ee).
Brannon was arrested and charged with misdemeanor public indecency. She was freed on $8,000 bond.
She was the only bar employee working at the time, so the tavern was closed Thursday.



I don't know...is it that bad? It's not like she was frying hamburgers or anything. That would be considered dangerous!
All I can say is that it gives new meaning to ordering a 'Slippery Nipple' or a 'Fuzzy Navel'!!!

It's a jungle out there...

For those of you just joining us, I work for a company called Hemingworth. We're revolutionizing the thread world, one spool at a time!***

My place of employment is located in an office building. So, at first glance, you'd assume it's a nice place. Civilized, even. But it isn't. Not by a long shot. It's a scary world in here folks. You've heard about the spider in my office...you've heard about the bat...and those two things alone seem like enough to evacuate the premises. At least, I think so. The fire/police departments didn't agree when I called them and told them the area needed to be evacuated.

Fire Chief: "What is your emergency?"
Me: "I'll get to that in a minute. Do you have any really hot, I mean H-O-T hot, single firemen?"
Fire Chief: "Mam, is there a fire?"
Me: "No. But..."
.....Dead air.... He hung up.


Police Dispatch "Mam, what is your emergency?"
Me: "This building and the surrounding area need to be evacuated."
Police Dispatch: "Is there a fire?"
Me: "No...but..."
Police Dispatch: "Is there a bomb?"
Me: "Not that I know of, but I wouldn't be surprised."
Police Dispatch: "Mam, what is the emergency?"
Me: "We have a spider infestation as well as a killer bat that's after us."
Police Dispatch: "Mam, you are an idiot and you're wasting my time. If you continue to call us everyday with this same story, you will have charges placed against you. Do not call this number again. Even if there is a fire or a bomb. We'd prefer you be blown up or burned to death. Never call here again. Do you understand me?"
Me: "No, I don't understand you. No speaka english."
.......dead air..........

Obviously, there isn't anywhere I can turn for help. I'm on my own. 'Protect and Serve'??? I think not.

After the spider and bat problem we had a stinkbug. That's right folks, a stinkbug. And a more aptly named bug, there never has been. I don't know that I've ever had the misfortune of dealing with a stinkbug before. Did you know that it actually stinks? Yeah, I didn't know either. But it does. Knowing that I couldn't receive help from the proper authorities, I was forced to eliminate the threat on my own. And I did. And it stunk up the whole office, which is apparently what stinkbugs do. I evacuated our office. Thanks for nothing police! I got this one on my own. And to think, my tax dollars pay for their salary.

This place is basically a jungle. The next problem was of a different nature...

We have no toilet paper. And this is not the first time. Am I in a refugee camp? Toilet paper seems pretty standard. But, to be fair, I never asked in the job interview if they provided the toilet paper or if I would have to do so on my own. It's my own fault, I guess, for assuming the building would be equipped with toilet paper. I thought it must be part of the initiative to save the environment! I can get behind that! Go green! I was happy to help. So, I just reused toilet paper. But, now we're even out of recycled toilet paper. And let me tell you people...we don't even have any plants around the office to use the foliage for wiping. Nada.

What is a girl supposed to do??? Well, I had a lightbulb moment. Ding! We're a thread company...use the thread! Duh! It takes about 3 spools, unraveled, to really get the job done. But, hey, we're all making sacrifices for the environment! I can do my part! Goooooo Green! Glad to help.


***I think that should be our new slogan... 'Hemingworth. Revolutionizing the world, one spool at a time!' It should be on our website, on our shirts (embroidered on our shirts, of course), it should be on our mugs (that we don't have as of yet), and I think it should be tattooed on our bosses. I truly am a marketing genius here, folks. Who could forget the brilliant slogan for Ihop... "Thank you for calling Ihop, how may I hop you?" Brilliant. Truly brilliant. Obviously, I have a gift. Some people (mostly me) have gone as far as calling me a marketing genius, and I can't deny it. And after reading this, I know you can't deny it either.

9/11

I KNOW THAT MY FEELINGS ARE NOT UNIQUE ON THIS SUBJECT AND I KNOW MUCH IS WRITTEN IN MEMORY OF 9/11...BUT I WANTED TO SHARE MY OWN THOUGHTS. THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE 2 YEARS AGO, SO I APOLOGIZE IF IT IS RECYCLED TO YOU, BUT I FEEL JUST AS STRONGLY TODAY AS I DID WHEN I WROTE IT...

Today is nine eleven. 9/11. It's amazing how one day can change everything. It's been seven years and in so many ways it seems as though time stands still today and I am right back to that morning. That fateful morning. I still remember what I was doing, what I was wearing, where I was when I heard the news. At first I thought, as did everyone else, that it was an accident. But it wasn't long before it was realized that this was no accident. It was an intentional hit against America.
I couldn't wrap my head around that. I've never hated something or someone or someplace enough to kill one innocent person, let alone thousands of innocent bystanders. I can't fathom that. I don't think most of us can. Which, is a good thing, I suppose. I'm really reticent to believe that so many people are filled with a hatred that intense.
More than the small details of remembering what I was doing, where I was or what I was wearing, I remember my feelings. I remember being scared, being shell-shocked and more than anything, I remember feeling an overwhelming ache. I ached for the families that lost the ones closest to them. For so long, one of my biggest fears has been losing a parent or losing a sibling. I don't know how I would deal with it, or even IF I could deal with it. I thought of those families whose loved ones were on the planes. What terror did they experience in their last hour? How much did they know? I prayed that they lived in ignorance for as long as they could on that flight. Hoping, wishing that they lived with the terror for the smallest timeframe possible. I ached for the families that had a loved one in The World Trade Center. Knowing your loved one was in a building that got attacked, but still having a small bit of hope that they would be one of the few survivors. I imagine I would have been among those racing all over town, to every hospital, every clinic, every medical facility I could find, just trying to find some shred of proof that my loved one was among the survivors. I imagine that I would be among those who pray as they are running to find their loved ones, one of those who are making deals inside their head with God... willing to give up anything, promise anything, if only I found my loved one alive. I imagine that would have been me. Refusing to believe I actually lost one of the people I hold dearest. Racing to believe it wasn't possible. That somehow, my life came away unscathed. That would've been me.

Instead, I watch it unfold on a television, from a distance. I watch in disbelief, in sorrow and in anger as people I don't even know are hurting. I don't know them, I've never met them, and yet I cry with them. Because I imagine, just for a moment, that it could have been any one of us that were affected by this terror. By these terrorists.
Any one of us could have lost someone we love. But I didn't. Because I didn't live or work in that geographical location. Because I wasn't on one of those planes. Because of small, yet astronomical details in our lives we have either walked away unharmed or we had our lives forever ripped apart from tragedy.

Have any of us really walked away unscathed? I don't in any way mean to compare what I feel to those who actually lived it. I could never pretend that I know what they are feeling. But, did it change me? Yes. Most definitely, yes.
I realized that we weren't invincible here in America. I realized that we still had to fight for our Freedom. In my life, I have read textbooks of our forefathers fighting to separate us from Britain. I read of the civil war. I read of wars fought on foreign soils. I watched movies that portrayed these events. I watched them and I considered them informative, yes, but also I considered them entertainment. Because I had never lived it. I had never seen anything like it. I was born a child of the 80's. My tumultuous childhood? Crimped hair, hyper-color shirts and a rhinestone-studded denim craze. I didn't grow up in the depression. I didn't live through the Vietnam War. I didn't fight for our freedom as one of the original 13 colonies. I didn't watch one of our states get attacked as Pearl Harbor was taken down. I just reaped the benefits of all of the battles fought before me.

After 9/11 I realized that those battles still have to be fought. That America will only remain the land of the privileged and the land of the free if we are willing to stand up and fight. And, most importantly, if we don't forget.

I hope, that on this day, there are others just like me. Others who did not lose a loved one that day, but who were forever changed by what they felt.
My heart goes out to the families who lost so much that day. And to those families who have lost loved ones in the battle that followed. And for the families who will lose someone in the continuing battle. This is our history we're living, and someday, I hope my grandchildren are proud of how we've created it. But, more importantly, I hope they read of wars in a textbook, live in the land of the free and never have to see hatred of this level in their lives. That is my hope. WE WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THOSE LOST.

The couple who....

I've always heard that the more you have in common with your significant other, the more likely you are to stay together. You've all heard the sayings...

'The couple who plays together, stays together.'

'The couple who snorts crack together, stays together.' Or...whatever the saying is.

You know the sayings...we've all heard them.

And the one I am addressing today?

'The couple who exercises together, stays together.'

I was driving down the road and I saw a cute couple, in their golden years, walking in the morning sun. And I thought, I guess it's true what they say. The couple who exercises together, stays together. And then I saw that they stopped and since my windows were rolled down I also heard them yelling at one another. I could only catch yelling and then I heard the husband say, "FINE, see you at home!" He then crossed the street and proceeded with his morning walk. She stayed on the opposite side of the street from him.... and they continued to walk at about the same pace and heading in the same direction...but on different sides of the road.

And I can't help but think that this fight wouldn't have happened if they had just stayed at home in the first place.

Moral of the story: stay home, don't exercise.

"The couple who has outside interests and hobbies stay together instead of yelling at one another on a morning run."

Learn from this couple in their golden years...quit exercising now. It could save your marriage.

Complete Mystery...

Here's the thing...

I can't stand Kiefer Sutherland. I think he's icky. He seems like a tiny little man. And he crosses his legs like a girl. I've only ever seen him in one movie and he played an evil rapist. He smokes. And I am pretty darn sure he's gay, which isn't going to work for me. (see picture above as proof) Not looking good for The Kiefer. I don't find him sexy at all. I find him pretty skeazy, actually.

What's the mystery, you may be asking???

I LOVE JACK BAUER. Some may argue that Sutherland plays Bauer. But I am willing to stake my life on the fact that Bauer plays Sutherland.

Jack Bauer is one of the finest actors around. In his normal work day he saves the world, with very little help from others. In his downtime, he plays this actor Kiefer Sutherland. And, if I didn't know better...I'd almost think Sutherland was a real person. Luckily, I know better.

Recap:

Kiefer= not a real person, skeazy and has horrible fashion sense.

Jack= saves the world over and over, sexy as can be, pretends to be Kiefer in his downtime, totes a gun around but still manages to have tender moments and look reeeeeally hot doing it!

I'd like my politics (and my bagel) with a little shmeer please!

Election year is upon us! Although I have a previous post about my own political views (Jack Bauer '08) I recently came across some information* that I think my readers have a right to know when deciding who to vote for.

For all you John McCain supporters out there, the biggest thing you should be aware of is that he eats babies. I didn't believe it when Brandon first told me, but it must be true. If you go to google and type in "John McCain eats babies" it brings up tons of totally reputable search results. If you find it in google, then it is completely true! I'm sure you already know that. So, obviously, I can't vote for John McCain.

That leaves us with Obama. Yes, his middle name is Hussein and sure...that seems suspicious, but I doubt it means anything really. I also remember hearing silly people call him 'Obama BinLaden' and I would giggle because clearly people are making something out of nothing! So what if it rhymes with Osama? Lisa rhymes with Pisa...it doesn't mean I lean to one side! Or does it...?
Like I said, I thought this Obama BinLaden garbage was just silly. Until he announced his running mate! Biden. Biden? That name looks familiar...B...I....D....E...N....hmm, what's missing....??? Bi(nla)den! Aha! There it is...BInlaDEN. Binladen. Biden+nla= Binladen! Sure, if it was just Obama rhyming with Osama or just Biden being 3 letters away from Binladen...we might be able to blow this off, but both of them? Clearly the terrorists are trying to take over the country. And, honestly, I think they are in danger of pulling off the biggest coup de grace in history! It's the Trojan Horse and in the future they will read history books wondering how in the world we fell for it... Bravo, Obama Hussein Bi(nla)den, Bravo!
Obviously we can't vote for Obama either.

Who does this leave? Ralph Nader. Nobody can find anything bad on this guy. Who as his running mate? Ross Perot, of course! They are the safe bet! I can't vote for a baby eating fool or the terrorists!

Write in Nader/Perot for '08! Give our country a chance!


*By "Information" I mean silly rumors and accusations brought on by the shmeer tactic in politics...

Piddy Puff Puff will pop a cap in his A!!!

Deputy Pulls Gun During Stop of Diddy's Entourage

A sheriff's deputy pulled a gun on members of Diddy's entourage during a routine traffic stop over the weekend, but the situation was quickly resolved and a spokesman for the entertainer said the deputy was professional and respectful.
The gun was never pointed at the hip-hop mogul, and deputies were "very respectful" during the stop early Saturday, spokesman Ed Tagliaferri said Monday.
Diddy was traveling on Sunset Boulevard in a seven-car convoy when a deputy pulled over one of the vehicles. Combs was not in the car that was stopped for having an expired registration tag.
Sheriff's spokesman Steve Whitmore says the deputy became concerned when several men approached the vehicle. The deputy unholstered his gun and the situation quickly cooled down.
No citations were issued because the car was a rental.


They can say what they want... "the situation was quickly resolved..." blah, blah, blah! I don't buy it! They may have done that for appearances, but you don't dis Piddy Puff Puff! Aka: Puff Daddy. That Sheriff better watch his back. Someone will pop a cap in his A if he's not careful. I don't know if it will be Sean "Puffy" Combs, P. Diddy, Puff Daddy or Piddy Puff Puff...but someone is going to take him out!

Spider Assassination Attempt...again.

As mentioned in the 'Bat' blog entry, here is the spider story from work...

There are key players in this blog entry and they are as follows:

Lisa- Victim
Amber- Laughing bystander
Ali- Evil Spider Lady
Bruce- Villain masquerading as a hero

So the story begins...

It was just another day in paradise at the local embroidery company, everyone working diligently, and business humming along. Lisa was sitting at her desk when suddenly Ali came up behind her and placed an empty box on Lisa's head. Silly little prank...harmless, so she thought...until Lisa noticed that there was a SPIDER in the "empty" box! Lisa immediately grabbed the box off of her head and threw it against the wall....and ran across the hall to Bruce/Amber's office...

Lisa pulled herself together and told Bruce in a calm, rational, grown-up manner that there was a spider in her office and would he please have a look when he got a moment? Thanks so much................

Okay, who am I kidding??? We all know I ran across the hall in a panic. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak, all I could really get out was... "spider...in....my....office...spider...it's going to kill me...please...." Then I passed out and had to be revived with smelling salts. What did Amber do? Laugh at me the whole time.

Bruce, being the "hero" at this moment in time, went across the hall and appeared to diligently search for the spider. He was being my hero! My rescuer! He fulfilled his blue* duties very well.
Looking back on it...after his later behavior, I think he just went into my office and sat there for a while. I doubt he actually looked for the spider at all!

But, at the time, I had no way of knowing of the evil lurking inside him. I thought was just being an amazingly helpful man and that he was trying to solve my problem. Not true. But I didn't know any better.
Bruce came back across the hall and told me he had looked, but to no avail. The spider had disappeared.**

I spend the next 20 minutes in the other office trying to make myself believe that the spider wasn't just laying in wait in my office...waiting to kill me. I convinced myself I was just being silly and that I should go right back to my office and act like a grown up!!! So, I hesitantly and timidly walked back to my office...on the look out the whole time...I looked on my chair, my desk, the walls, the floor...no spider...Bruce is right...it's gone...I need to just calm down.

And then all of my fears were confirmed. I was right all along. It was just waiting to destroy me!!! It was waiting UNDER MY IPOD!!!!!!!!!! How dare it?!

Here is a victory for me: I smashed the little beastard! I killed it! I felt good about what I had done and wanted to share my victory with someone that I thought was a helpful hero... but, no, he isn't. I went and told Bruce and he reminded me that there were more spiders where that one came from. Also, he felt the need to torment me the rest of the day by telling me how spiders will drop from the air vents and ceilings to attack me, so I wouldn't be safe anywhere.
What a gem, eh? He's from the devil, obviously.

For now, I survived another spider assassination attempt. I should be on that TLC tv show called, "I shouldn't be alive!" And I can tell my harrowing tales of my near death experiences with these spiders. I truly am a miracle. I'll be signing autographs later.***



* Blue refers to the duties I believe men should do. Locate and kill all insects and rodents. Diagnose my car troubles based on the noises I recreate for you, even via the phone. Know the answer to any question, on any subject.

**For future reference: if you can not locate the errant insect/rodent, you must do your best to make me believe you found it, killed it and have warned away any of it's friends. Under no circumstances should you come back without having eradicated the before mentioned rodent/insect.

*** For a nominal fee. (and by "nominal fee" I really mean "for a great, big, fat fee.")

I do not have time to become a bat!

So, we have a new visitor at work. Believe me, if it had been up to me, I wouldn't have given him a visitor's badge. But I'm not in charge of security...so...he's here to stay. Security is a joke in this office.

We've already had infestation problems at work. A spider that was trying to kill me (more on that later, in a separate blog entry), a beetle that was trying to kill Ali (I think she had it coming to her...she dis-invited it to her party after they had a fight, for crying out loud!) and now a bat!
The spiders have obviously called in their reinforcements. Realizing they were unable to kill me at home...they tried at work. And when that failed, they are now sending in the bats. To kill me, obviously.
I am holding up amazingly well, all things considered.

How it started:
Bruce came into my office and told me we have a bat. Well, Bruce is a trickster and also enjoys tormenting me about spiders, so I figured he was just upping his torture game to a whole new level. Now he's including bats along with spider stories! Turns out there really is a bat...

The girly reactions in our office...

Me: Are you kidding me with this Bruce? No, really, are you serious? This isn't funny. Bruce, this really isn't funny, are you kidding me? It's probably a vampire bat!
(Bruce's response to that was that it probably IS a vampire bat and that it followed me here because it recognized it's leader. Rude! I don't know if he was referring to my fang-ish teeth, my pale skin/dark hair combo or the fact that I drink blood. We may never know because I killed Bruce and drank his blood to punish him for his comment.)

Ali: Eeeeeeewwww!!! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Bat, bat, bat, eeeeeeee!!!! Run for your lives!

Amber: Awww, I think it's kinda cute. I want to see it's wings.

I told our warehouse guy, Ben about the bat. His response? "Hmmm."
(Apparently he wasn't impressed with our bat. I can't really blame him.)

So time goes on and someone decides to spray the bat with an air can. It wasn't me. I would never! I'm insulted that you would even ask me if it was me! Unbelievable!
The same person threw a rock at the bat...

The bat never spread it's wings and attacked. It's just still sitting in the same position that it was when the picture (above) was taken. Personally, I know it's just biding it's time...till it can attack.

I can't afford to have rabies right now. Not again.

Yes, I'm sure!

You wanna know what really piffs me off? When someone asks me if I'm sure about doing something I am already in the process of doing. You know what bothers me more? When a computer asks me if I'm sure! Yes, I'm sure!

I'm deleting a file...and it wants to know if I'm sure. Well, yeah, kinda. I wouldn't have pressed the "delete a file" button if really I was looking to press the 'my computer is retarded' button instead.

When would an "are you sure you want to perform this action?" button come in handy???

"Are you sure you would like to launch a nuclear attack?"

"Are you sure you want to drink that much tequila?"

"Do you really think that those neon yellow pants are slimming?"

"Would dancing around on the table at a work Christmas party with nothing but a bra, panties and your boss' tie around your head be a good idea?"

Things like that would be useful in life. But, "are you sure you want to delete this file?"....not helpful.

Bandits!!!

Sweet? lovable? Innocent?

I think not!

What am I speaking of? Children, of course! They pretend, they play a good game. But I see through their charade. They are bandits, robbers, thieves...

Every summer I go through this. I'm minding my own business, driving home (or to the store, or to work, or to the liquor store...you get the point...I was driving, minding my own business) when suddenly one of these little pipsqueaks step out from their sidewalk holding a sign, "lemonade for sell!"

Some of them even go so far as to say, "lemonade for sell, please stop or I will not be able to feed my family tonight!"

Okay, maybe they don't say that, but they might as well. I feel guilty all the same. And I am always compelled to stop. I can't help myself. I must stop. I never drink the lemonade. No way. You never know what those devious little creatures put in the lemonade. Maybe an addictive agent...so I come back again and again and pay 12 times the actual cost of the lemonade.

These evil genius tykes are amazing. And I am an enabler. I stop every time and pay a ridiculous price for a cup of lemonade and then pour it out as soon as I am out of sight.

These kids are never gonna learn to go get a real job. You know who they grow up to be? The bums on the side of the road with signs asking for help/money/food...but they don't even offer jacked up lemonade anymore! They offer nothing in return for the money you give them...those lemonade stand kids grow up and figure out how to bamboozle you out of money without offering anything in return! They are good...so good...and I am a foolish enabler...

They are bandits! For your own safety, watch out! It's a dangerous world.

8-8-8

August 8th, 2008 or... 8/8/8

Wow, won't happen for another thousand years. And at that point I will be a cyborg, so it won't be nearly as exciting.

My goal for 8-8-8.... I wanted to either have a baby on this day or to marry on this day.

They have both fallen through, unfortch.

Last night it occurred to me (my mom pointed it out, actually) that it might be difficult for me to have a baby today, not being pregnant and all. And I guess she's right. Which means that on 8-8-8 I will not be having a baby. I guess I will have to settle for stealing a baby. I know someone who works in the mother/baby unit at the hospital. Hopefully she can help! *wink, wink*

As for the wedding....well, I'm not dating anyone special. So, I'm going to have to go with a stranger or someone completely wrong for me. It's the only way. I am still accepting applications, but we will have to leave soon if we want to get to Vegas on time.
What I'm really hoping for is that I meet Prince Charming in the next few hours so we can head on down to Vegas and marry on 8-8-8! And I would imagine our marriage would last...at least a day or so.

I've always wanted a quickie Vegas wedding. If you know anyone...send them my way!

I can't believe I'm going to have a husband and a stolen baby all in one day!

Mystery of the Latinas

I think it's pretty obvious that I've always connected to my Latina Sisters. Deeply. I've even been mistaken as a Latina. It's no doubt due to my dark coloring.

About a year ago I started receiving 'Latina' magazine in the mail. I was confused, not because I didn't love it (who wouldn't?) but because I didn't know why I was receiving it. I hadn't requested it, I hadn't subscribed and I hadn't paid for it. I thought maybe it was just a free sample so they could try and get me hooked into all things Latina!

It came the next month too. And the month after that. And it kept coming.

Realizing it had to be a subscription service, I decided someone was sending it to me as a joke! I figured out who it must be. Who else? Brandon! Had to be. No other explanation. I didn't mention that I was on to him because that would ruin the fun.

Instead, I retaliated by sending him a bazillion catalogs he wouldn't want. Paula Young's Wig collection, Victoria's Secret, one about shoes for old people...
(actually, the last one might be helpful, he is getting on in years)

I figured, tit for tat! Suck on that Brandon! I showed him!

Cut to...a year later. I receive a notice in the mail that my subscription to Latina is ending and the pricing terms for renewing my subscription. I giggled when I thought about how Brandon sent this to me to be cruel and I retaliated by sending him at least 10 catalogs/magazines to be even more cruel than he thought about being.

Good times. Such a great friendship.

I mention to him a few nights later that my subscription is ending and that I hope he enjoyed his own retaliation magazines! Turns out... he knows nothing about the Latina magazine. He didn't do it. He said he would have done it if he had thought of it because he thinks it was brilliant.

And suddenly...I feel ashamed of the fact that I punished him severely for something he didn't even do. Bad Lisa!

Then I giggled and decided that if he didn't expect and appreciate that kind of collateral damage from our friendship...he would've bailed a long time ago!

So, my time with Latina magazine is coming to a close. It has been a great year, Latinas. I've learned mucho from you! Gracias!

(For those of you who don't get Latina magazine, 'Gracias' is 'Thank You' in spanish)

Purist

Purist
Noun, Definition: One who practices or urges strict correctness

I've often struggled with defining myself. I have spent a lot of time in my life "finding myself" and "looking within" and trying to determine how best to define who I am. I thought it might take me many more years to decide this, to find the truth inside.

And the other day...it hit me...in one split second I knew how to define myself. It wasn't difficult, I wasn't even looking...it was just there. I'm a purist.

More specifically, I'm a French Fry Purist. (FFP, from here on out)

How do you know if you're an FFP?

This is the defining moment... you order french (or freedom) fries, you anxiously await your order.... and the wait-person sets it down....

and the fries are seasoned. Are they kidding me with this??? Seasoned? I ordered french fries, not seasonings on a potato. Unbelievable! They should always give me the option.

I enjoy fries in their pure form... (no, not as a potato) the pure french fry form. A potato fried in grease. Leave your seasonings off it!

Purist...that's me!

My political views

Some of the most frequent questions I get asked are.......

1. "Lisa, who should I vote for?"
2. "Lisa, who will YOU vote for?"
3. "Lisa, did you really have an affair with Obama?"
4. "Lisa, is it true that you were a POW with McCain?"
5. "Lisa, why aren't you running for president?"

In the past I've always replied to personal questions with, "I'm not accepting questions at this time."

But I've decided it's time to answer the people. My answers are:

1. Ross Perot
2. Jack Bauer
3. No Comment, other than to say I do have a dress and call recordings that I am preserving in case I need it in the future to back up any of my future claims. *
4.You'll have to read our joint biography (due out late October 2012)
5. I don't have that kind of time. Plus, if wearing white makes you look fat, can you imagine what the press conferences in front of the white house would do for my figure???


I feel like I'm finally being honest with America. I'm so glad to have gotten this off my chest.
Hopefully America feels like they got the truth, finally!



*Or if the baby turns out to be his. It's either his or Kobe Bryant's...

Deep thoughts and pimping...

In happy and exciting news....the 'shoe carnival' is in town!!! Yippee!!! I've never been to a shoe carnival. I don't know if they make the shoes perform. Is there a bearded lady shoe? A midget shoe? Two headed shoe??? I don't know, but the possibilities seem endless!!! I'm gonna get me some cotton candy and watch the shoes entertain me! It's located where the old Pier One used to be. I don't know why it would be in a retail store environment? Usually carnivals are in a big top tent! Maybe they should get some pointers from Ringling Brothers...

I'm 27 and as far as I'm aware, I've been eating my whole life. I can't say for sure because those first few months are a little blurry...but I think I have. I haven't always had teeth and had to chew my food, but again, it's been a long while of me doing that as well. So, my question is...if I've been eating for approximately 27 years...how do I just all of the sudden bite my lip or cheek when eating? What happens? Who was in charge of keeping my massive lips out of the way while chewing? I think I put Pedro in charge of that....slacker...he's totally canned. I bit my lip the other day and now it hurts all of the time. What was Pedro thinking? He was probably busy keeping the tongue out of the way of my teeth and neglected the lip thinking someone else was on it. Idioto! (That's spanish for 'idiot.' Pedro only speaks spanish. Maybe that was the problem...)

I find it a curious thing when babies go to the doctor for their check ups. I think babies should have check ups...I just think the information their parents come out with is funny. I find it funny that the doctors rate them according to percentages. Oh, your baby is the 77th percentile in height and the 23rd for weight. I am SO glad doctors don't do that! I don't want to hear, "Well Lisa, you're 1431 weeks old now! You're in the 12th percentile for height and the 476th percentile for weight! Lay off the formula! You don't need to eat every 2 hours, you haven't needed to eat every two hours since you were 12 weeks old. We'll see you in a month!"




One final thought:

Is it just me or does it seem a little presumptuous to name your child 'Joy'? How do you know they'll be joyful? How do you know that they'll be a joy to talk to? You don't. I think that should be for the rest of us to decide. You don't see me changing my name to Beautiful, Perfect or Funny...do you? And all of those apply. I think my first child will be named 'Spectacular!!!' (exclamation points will be a part of his/her name. I think the name could go to either gender...)

That's it from me this week! Enjoy!

Three things...

1. I started a new job. And there is so much to tell you, but most of it will bore you. Plus, I don't have the time. Or the finger strength. I was recently attacked by a finger eating pygmy...that is a whole other story. Anyway, the most important thing you need to know about my job is that I've found a way to relax when I get stressed. It's in the bathroom. Yup, it's my sanctuary. My first day I was harried and running behind and trying to learn new things and I rushed into the bathroom and on the back of the toilet were the potty protectors...and the company who makes them? "Rest Assured..." Ahhhhh, thank you. I instantly felt calmer sitting on the commode. The stress of the day fell away and suddenly, my mind and my bladder were refreshed. Ahhhhh, thank you Rest Assured, thank you.

2. It's summer...it's fly season. I haven't missed these nasty little creatures even one bit. I don't understand why they are around. They are horrible. They just buzz around looking to cause trouble. I don't believe for even one second that they are innocent. Have you ever noticed that if you swat them away with your hand...they fly back within a second and keep doing it until you are stomping around and waving your hands around (like you just don't care!) and you look insane? Only then, with their mission accomplished, do they fly off to bug someone else. You know what I find interesting? The saying, "She/He wouldn't hurt a fly!" (The she/he isn't a transvestite, at least as far as I know, I meant that those pronouns were interchangeable.) I find it interesting that we say that someone wouldn't hurt a fly in order to show how gentle they are. That saying is, for the most part, a complete lie. We all talk about not hurting animals or anything along those lines...but we will still kill flies. And be proud of it. We made a fly "swatter" and we all use them. And we don't just playfully swat those flies...we kill 'em. I can only hope that one day the aliens don't make a "human swatter." Because you and I both know...they aren't looking to playfully swat us. Our time is up!

3. I realize that I have an aversion to commitment. I don't like to really commit to anything. An emotion, a product, a person, I no likie. When I order a smoothie at Jamba Juice I frequently doubt my decision and choice by the time they end up mixing my smoothie. I think that's a fairly normal attitude. One out of one persons polled have a problem with commitment. (That's 100% for those of you not keeping count.) I realized the magnitude of my commitment phobia when I had a gut reaction to the news that they were now offering plots/dual headstones in our new graveyard. And my first thought... "a dual plot and headstone? Oh, I don't know...what if it doesn't work out? Then you're stuck on the same headstone till the earth is burned up in the last days. And you're dead, so it's not like you can go make any changes, or have his body exhumed and moved to the other corner of the graveyard. Yeah...all in all...I think it's best to just have an individual plot and headstone."

Short post

I'm busy, so I don't have much time to post. I only have time for the essentials, to catch you up on the most important events and thoughts in my life right now.







1. I have always felt that I had magical powers. I've just been waiting for them to become "active." At times I have lost a little bit of hope because my powers haven't shown themselves yet. Yesterday I received confirmation that I would soon have them. I was walking along and I happened to glance down and I saw a rubber band in the shape of the triquetra symbol from Charmed. If that wasn't proof, I don't know what is! And, just last night I was told that I have a "dark gift" for making people agree with my side of things. I know that magical powers run in the family. How else do you explain my good looks? And, my nieces Sydney and Taylor both give me looks that I am 100% positive mean that they are casting spells.



2. U.S. bans Boy George
Boy George has been refused a visa to visit the U.S. because of his criminal past and impending trial. FINALLY! Finally, we have some standards!!! I'm not sure why this wasn't done in the 80's. Too bad the US didn't decide to ban him BEFORE he brought his wretched play 'Taboo' to the US. We could've done without that. I think that a chameleon named Karma has bit Boy George in the rear! It comes and goes....it comes and goes....and this time, it bans Boy George. (for those of you who don't know, 'Karma Chameleon' was a hit of Boy George's)

3. Is it just me...or is anyone else wondering why Rhianna is such a hit right now? I don't get it. I mean, sure, I like to 'drop it like it's hot' to her tunes as much as the next person...but she's just not that great. In my opinion, Rhianna=Rhidiculous!

4. This just in: American Idol is holding auditions on July 29th in Salt Lake City!!! I think I will put my name down as Lisa ArchuLoser and see how I do! I'll probably get put all the way into the finals! I really think this is fate. Simon and I will finally start our love affair!

5. Finally. There is a product for those of us who hate to waste electricity on charging our cell phones AND also love to dance. If you have those two things in common...I found the perfect product for you! It's a cell phone charger that is powered solely on your dance moves alone! Oh yeah! We can get jiggy wit' it and still talk on our cell phones! I can only hope that this will translate into a dancing-powered vehicle. I've always been an excellent car dancer and I think this would top the charts! It'd also make for a good reality show. "This week on Car Dancing Through America...."

Well folks, I'm sorry I have to sign off, but now you know some of the most important things going on in my life right now!

Peace out!

Woman sues Victoria's Secret claiming thong injury

A woman who says she was hurt by her thong panties when a metal clip flew off and hit her in the eye has sued Victoria's Secret, saying in a TV interview on Thursday that the injury caused her "excruciating pain."

Macrida Patterson, a 52-year-old Los Angeles traffic officer, told NBC's "Today" show that she suffered cuts to her cornea from the small piece of metal that had been used to secure a rhinestone heart onto the blue thong.

"I was putting on my underwear from Victoria's Secret and the metal popped in my eye. It happened really quickly. I was in excruciating pain. I screamed. That's what happened," Patterson told NBC.

A spokeswoman for Victoria's Secret, which is operated by Limited Brands Inc, could not immediately be reached for comment.



Hmmmm.....
If I was the spokeswoman for Victoria's Secret I would have released the following statement:

"On behalf of Victoria's Secret we'd like to apologize to everyone who knows Ms. Patterson, and to anyone who might have seen her in a thong. It was a gross misjudgement on the part of our sales staff that led them to assume she knew how to properly put on underwear, and that she would also buy age-appropriate underwear. In addition, we're still laughing our thong-encased butts off when we think about her thong hitting her in the eye!"

Professional Arson, at your service.

One of my favorite things to do, (when I am already in the car driving from point A to point B, have nothing else to do because my cell phone is dead, I've already rocked out to all of my music via car dancing, and have already judged everyone in the cars around me...), is to appreciate a little of the local flavor via Business signs. The signs that advertise a business and maybe even a special they're having that week. Some businesses even use them to recruit new employees with 'Now Hiring' signs. Sometimes I feel it's my civic duty to call the business and let them know they've misspelled an important word on their sign. Hireing (drop the E people!) is a commonly misspelled word. Then there are the movie theaters who use those signs and butcher words so badly that I can't even guess at what the movie title might possibly be. Or maybe they ran out of the letter Z so they just used a sideways N instead. You've gotta do what you've gotta do, I guess.
The other day I saw a car dealership using their sign to advertise that they need help, and after reading the rest of the sign, I agree. They do need help. Professional help.
The sign read:

Help Wanted: Sales Arson, inquire within

I took it at face value and applied for the position. Under 'special skills' I wrote about my love for matches. I also told about how I could sell flammable products to a fireman! I'm that good at selling arson. Under 'related experience' I spoke of the two house fires my own family has had. Those kinds of things don't happen on their own, you know. Not everyone is in the market for arson. You have to make them believe that they need arson and are willing to pay for it.

The interview went well on my end, but the hiring manager looked perplexed the entire time. I haven't gotten a call back, but cross your fingers because I think this career may be right up my alley! When I do get the job, don't forget to come to me for all of your arson needs.

The good and the bad of blogging

One of the things I hate about blogs...
it actually has nothing to do with the blog itself...but about posting a comment on someone's blog. The dreaded Word Verification. It's supposed to be there to stop spammers and automated systems from commenting and putting crap on your blog. This way you know a human is actually commenting on your blog.
The unfortunate part about it....humans can't usually tell what the heck those letters say. Half the time I give up and just type nonsense, hoping that the next round of letters will be easier to decipher. The other half of the time I decide that my comment isn't worth trying to decipher the letters. So I don't comment. I'm not a robot. I'm not a spammer. But, for the life of me...I can't figure out the word verification.

One of the things I love about blogs...
the links that people use to show blogs of people they know and enjoy. I'm looking at a friend's blog and then I click one of their friend's blogs because I'm nosy or bored or a stalker or something. Cut to: ten minutes later. I'm about 29 blogs away from even remembering how I found the blog I'm reading. But I'm laughing and thinking I want to comment...but then I realize how psychotic it would be. My comment...
"Howdy stranger. Your Aunt Jen has a link to your blog and Aunt Jen is friends with Zack who has a gardener named Phil who has a friend named Joanna who has a daughter named Hilary whose friend Sam's stepdaughter's hairdresser Chloe happened to be married to Aaron back in the 90's (but has since become a lesbian and is life partner's with Molly) and Aaron's sister Penelope had a third grade teacher named Mrs. Krueger who's sister Sally has a dog named Fluffy who has a dog walker named Sunny who hangs out at the coffee shop where my friend Chad works . Anywho, I really enjoyed your post about your hemorrhoids and how they are a hidden monster. I laughed and laughed when you talked about having to carry that small butt pillow around everywhere because sitting was miserable. When you talked about having to use it at the luncheon where you were being honored for your award winning tulips...I laughed so hard that I may have popped a hemorrhoid myself! Thanks for sharing! "

Stalker much? In the end I just read the blogs anonymously and don't comment. And think about how creepy it is that someone they don't know is reading about their life. Then I start hoping that somewhere, somebody started clicking their own friend's blogs and links and wound up reading mine. And either running in fear or giggling just a little bit.

When infomercials go bad

We know I love infomercials. I surf the tv just looking for an infomercial. Most people change the channel when one comes on. I change the channel looking for infomercials. And, yes, I think I might TiVo one someday. That day hasn't arrived yet, but I am a realist. It's only a matter of time.

I saw part of an infomercial the other day. It's a completely pointless product for me and my life. But I can see that a lot of scrapbookers would love it. It's called the Cricut. Get it? It sounds like cricket but it's spelled with 'cut' in it because when you scrapbook you cut things out?! Get it? Yeah, more marketing geniuses at work.

So, I'm watching a 90 second blurb on everything it can do. And they are showing me these beautiful scrapbooking projects that you can do with it. And for a nanosecond a picture pops up with a scrapbooking container of some sort that says "Food Stamps" on it.

Uh...am I the only one who sees the irony here? I imagine a house with a family in it. Some shmoe who's fallen on hard times and they are now on food stamps. They can't afford food, but the wife says to the husband, "I'd really love to go grocery shopping with these food stamps, but I don't have a really pretty container to put the food stamps in. Drats, I guess we'll have to skip groceries this week."

To which the husband replies, "Well, honey, why don't you go order that Cricut contraption and make a really cool container to hold our food stamps in? They electric bill doesn't have to be paid this month. Really, what's most important is that we order the Cricut."

Cut to a montage of shots-
Wife receives Cricut in the mail, joyously decorates a box to hold the food stamps, goes grocery shopping and pays the cashier from her pretty food stamp box she made with the Cricut...
and the last shot is the family eating at the dinner table with a smile on their face and they turn to the camera and say, "Thanks Cricut!"

Priceless. I better place an order.

ArchuLOSER!

David ArchuLOSER has lost. As most losers do. Poor, poor David. And he didn't just lose by a teeny tiny bit. No, no, he lost by 12 million votes. I was saddened to hear that my own family members voted ten times for Archuloser, but it turns out ten times makes no difference when you're talking about a landslide loss. Oh, it's so sad.

I love American Idol. I do. But I think it might be for my family's best interest if it went off the air. Invariably, my family is divided on who has the best voice/best talent...whatever. It's always a division of the family.

I find that the 'older set' always lean towards the ugly, the boring and those who will not sell many records. I don't know if that's just because when you get older you start to lose your hearing or if you just lose the ability to judge talent. I'm not sure what it is, but it is very hard to watch that happen to them.

One of my own family members implied that the only people we like are the pretty ones. Ummm, duh. Along with the pretty though, we like talent. David Archuloser has mad skillz, no doubt. However, my contention with him is that his performances are boring (as I am sure his album will be as well. ) I guess boring is relative when Amy Grant is what you consider as "hard rock."

A quote from my own brother, after implying that we only enjoy pretty-no talent-celebs.
"Once again I am saddened by a society that dotes on looks rather than carachter and talent."

First, please excuse his mistyping. I think it's part of old age. Second, I find that most people who say that we're too obsessed with good looks say that because they themselves are ugly. A sad but true phenomenon. I've always thought my brother was good looking...but I might have to revisit that assumption.

Thankfully, American Idol is over for now. My family can go back to our peaceful existence until next January. Then the feud begins again! Till then!

American Idol...a.k.a. "My Kid's Got Talent!"

Oh, American Idol. It continues to fail me. This season has hurt just as much, if not more than the Katherine Mcphee/Taylor Hicks debacle.
I know everyone calls me a "hater" for not oohing and aaahing over David "Cute as a bug" Archuleta...but, seriously, unless you're a tween or a grandma, there is no excuse for voting for him. There really isn't. It's Taylor Hicks all over again. My worst nightmare. Let me qualify this by saying that I agree with the fact that David Archuleta (aka Donny Osmond Jr.) has talent. He clearly does. He's got mad skillz, dawg. But how is his musical talent relevant to anything other than choirs or musical theater? It's not. Maybe give him 5 years to mature and then I will see if I like his music. Right now, all I can do is fall asleep every time he gets on stage with his babyface and following of tweens and grandmas.
He's being set up for failure. Everyone votes and gives him a heightened sense of fame...then he sells less than 500,000 copies of his album and his record label drops him and he goes through a mid-life identity crisis at the age of 19. Tragic. I've seen it a million times. If you really liked the kid, you'd want him to grow up before he tries it in the musical world.
What am I saying? What am I thinking? Donny Osmond is just as cool now as he ever has been. And I'm sure at least 3, maybe even 4, people outside of Utah knows who he is. That's Archuleta's future. Poor kid.

All of you keep voting for him! Even though none of you will buy his album! Just like you did with Taylor Hicks! Set him up to fail!

6 more months of crappy service? Sign me up!

Sometimes I wonder why I didn't go into advertising. It seems simple enough. For instance...

I'm watching tv the other day. Yes, I watch tv a lot. Quit judging me. It's not like you have a life either. Don't pretend that you do.

I heard a commercial for Match.com about finding your "soulmate." They say that it's okay to look. And as an added bonus, if you sign up for 6 months of their service and you are not happy with their service and you DO NOT find the man/woman/transgendered individual of your dreams...they'll give you six MORE months free! Just what I have been looking for! Six more months of crappy service from a website that didn't do what it promised in the first place! So, in essence, I could get a year of worthless service for the price of only six months!
Move out of the way...where do I sign up??? Excuse me, but I've got to go waste a couple hundred dollars on not finding me soulmate. Uh, yeah, thanks a lot Match.com. You really get me.

So, yeah, I'm thinking advertising is the way to go. It's basically writing fictional promises that prey on the stupidity of the human population. And, unfortunately, stupidity is a free commodity.

Please don't make me tickle "Elmo"!

********The Following Blog Entry Is Not For The Faint Of Heart, The Elderly, The Seriously Ill Or The Prudish Sorts. I WILL NOT CENSOR THIS POST, IT IS IMPORTANT FOR PEOPLE TO BE AWARE OF THIS. IT IS FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY. (and maybe humorous purposes as well)*********


This world never ceases to amaze me. And people never cease to appall me.

Sometimes I wonder where I should go next on vacation. Disneyland? Hershey, PA? Hawaii? Greece??? Nope. None of those. I have found the next "hot spot" in tourism. It is Husavik, Iceland. I know you are a little leery. Just hear me out!

Husavik, Iceland is home to Sigurdur Hjartarson, an odd but inspiring man to many. Sigurdur Hjartarson is the founder of The Icelandic Phallological Museum.

Yes, you read that right. Definition of Phallus: The Penis. Phallological Museum= A Penis museum.
Museums can be boring, stuffy and also pretentious. I'm thinking none of those apply to this museum.
Here is the link to the article. http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080515/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_iceland_penismuseum;_ylt=AnIOQC4sHtq4z4BzK4BOfXftiBIF


I giggle when I read about the hamster's "member" that can only be seen with a magnifying glass! I wanted to forward one of the spam emails I get about penis enlargement to every hamster I know! They'd be grateful.

But my absolute favorite part of the article was the information about the 4 homo sapiens who have volunteered to give their penis to the museum when they die. A German, an American, an Icelander and a Briton. Wow, they must be something special, eh?

The Icelandic donor, a 93-year-old from nearby Akureyri, was a womanizer in his youth who thought having his penis in the collection might bring him eternal fame.
But vanity may make him rethink the offer.
"He has mentioned lately that his penis is shrinking as he gets older and he is worried it might not make a proper exhibit."

Did you hear that? That was my mind blowing.

The American, 52-year-old Stan Underwood, supplied a written description of his penis -- which he purportedly nick-named "Elmo" -- for display alongside a life-size plastic mould of the member as well as his pledge to donate it.

All I can say is...please, please don't make me tickle Elmo.

Is it me?

So, the other day I am at the DMV re-registering my car. Yes, it was the last day of the month. Don't judge me! I'm busy.
First, can I just say that re-registering your vehicle is the biggest rip off? I already registered it once. Nothing has changed. The make and model are still the same. And, yes, it's still the same year. It hasn't managed to morph into some other kind of car. Until they make a hybrid morphing vehicle...I'm going to remain pissy about paying to register my car...again.
Side note- I would be VERY interested in a morphing vehicle. Just an FYI to the car makers out there, since I know they read my blog frequently.

So, I'm in line at the DMV, wondering where that horrible stench is coming from. It smells like a homeless person. Not to stereotype homeless people, as I'm sure some of them smell delightful, but as a general rule, homeless people don't have homes...which means they don't have showers...which means they stink. So, typically, homeless people have an obscene odor. Unless they invested their panhandling funds into a portable shower. Not the best way to use your minimal funds, but who am I to judge? So, I'm sorry if I offended one of the portable shower homeless people...I wasn't talking about you.

But, I digress. I'm standing in line, smelling a stink of a non-portable-showering-homeless-person and trying to identify it when I turn around and immediately find the source. It's a lady and her dog. I don't want to offend the dog, it could have been the lady who stunk so badly and not the dog. I don't think I'll ever know if it was the lady or the dog who stunk more. My bet is on the lady. I'm thinking that if your judgement is off enough for you to think it's appropriate to carry your dog into the DMV then your judgement is probably off enough to think it's appropriate to not shower for a month.

So, I find the stinky source and I'm looking around, befuddled. Did I miss the memo that said it was appropriate to bring animals into places of business? Last I heard...businesses were for PEOPLE. Unless, of course, it's PetsMart. In which case you can bring your kids and your animals in and if any of them poop on the floor, they provide you with wipies to clean it up, judgement free.
If it's truly okay to bring your pets into places of business, I'm wondering why I left my dolphin, Ralph at home. I should've brought him along! He loves a good outing.

So, I turn to the stinky lady holding her stinky dog and I say, "Excuse me, mam, do you realize that the dog you're holding is not actually a person and is therefore not allowed to come into a place of business?"
And the lady, (we'll call her Mona for the sake of continuity. She looked like a Mona, but I don't know what her real name is. She had on a fur coat, gold jewelry and huge eyeglasses), Mona, said, " Well, missy, I did know that. But, Fifi (that was the dog's name) is my seeing eye dog. I am blind and she helps me get around."
To which I responded, "Oh, pardon me Mona, that was so rude and thoughtless of me. I apologize. If Fifi is your seeing eye dog then I most certainly understand. But might I suggest that you get a smelling nose dog as well? Maybe that dog could tell you and Fifi when to shower so the rest of us don't have to smell you?"

I thought I was being helpful. Mona didn't think so. She kicked me in the shin and huffed off. Come to think of it, if she needs a seeing eye dog, how did she know where to kick me? And if Fifi is her seeing eye dog, why was Mona holding her? This story isn't adding up. Something is starting to smell a little fishy...and this time it ain't Mona.

Si Señor

I realize it's been a while since my last post. And apparently, the natives are getting restless.
I've had so much on my mind. I've had a lot to think about as I plan my life and where I want it to go and what I want to accomplish and who I want to be. And it's taken all of my time, energy and intelligence. And, of course, a Life Coach. He is very expensive. His name is Chester Winds. Life coach to the stars. He has helped me realize my full potential and dreams. Not cheap.
Money aside, the good news here is that I have finally decided on a life path. Yes, yes, I have. It's something I've always wanted and it's always been in the back of my mind as something I could definitely see myself doing with my life. And, I've finally decided that I am going to go after my dreams. Some people chase tornadoes. I chase dreams.
I've made a goal and I am moving forward with it. I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. You know how they say that when you follow the correct path for your life that it just "feels right"? Well, it does feel right. Nothing has ever felt more right. Chester has helped me to see the light!
So I am moving forward with my plans to become Tom Selleck's wife.

Chester and I have created a very solid plan. He has prepared me and helped me to recognize that there may be people who want to try and bring me down and tell me not to chase this dream, that it is impossible. But I will not listen to those taunts and the cynicism. Impossible? I think not. Chase the impossible tornado! ...err, dream.

My plan? It's very simple. Tom is now an avocado farmer. He owns an avocado farm in California. When I heard this, I knew it was fate. I love avocados. They are mighty tasty. So, the plan is that I will go to Tom's farm, pose as an illegal immigrant from Mexico and start working the farm. I'll be wearing my scarf to cover my head, dirt on the hands, picking avocados or pruning the avocado tree (...or whatever it is you do when you're "farming" an avocado farm) and Tom will walk by to inspect the work being done. He will then be blown away by my mad avocado farming skills and my witty charm...and voila! He will love me. He will ask me if I'd like to come inside and get out of the sun and I will say, "Si Señor." Of course I will follow him inside, I would follow him to the ends of the earth. We will be in love and we will dine on avocados for the rest of our days. Of course, the rest of his days will be much shorter than the rest of my days as he is much older than I. But, none the less, the rest of his days will be spent with me. Dining on our avocados.

I acknowledge that there are a few minor roadblocks that will be in my way. But I will move them, jump over them or blast them with dynamite. Nothing will stop me now. Minor setbacks:
1. I have no clue where Tom's avocado farm is, other than in California.
2. I don't speak Spanish. I'm hoping the one phrase, "Si Señor" will carry me through a conversation.
3. I'm not an illegal immigrant from Mexico. I actually do have a social security number. And I don't know much about Mexico, other than what I've seen on vacation.
4. I'm not exactly dark skinned. I'm going to have to do some major tanning and use a lot of bronzer.
5. I don't like to be in the hot, shiny, sweaty sun. I also don't like to get dirty. Or have anything to do with farming.
6. Tom is already married.

I see these as minor setbacks. I will chase the dream. Chester would be so proud of me.

The Grease Fairy

So it's that time again. You want something fried. A taquito. (Who am I kidding, you can't eat just one taquito!) A burrito. A cheese crisp. A....well, anything fried. You get the idea. And then the thought comes to your mind. You'll have to pull out a pan and fill it with grease. And the grease spatters all over the stove and your clothes and the neighbor's house and everything is a mess. And inevitably, the house smells like grease for weeks. But the craving is too big to resist. The pull is so strong. Must...have....taquito....

So, you fry them up. And like predicted, you smell like grease and so does the house. The stove is spattered with grease. But, you're eating a taquito and you don't care about that. Clean-up is future Lisa's problem. Present Lisa is loving the taquito. Mmmmm, taquito.

Cut to: 2 hours later. Clean-up comes along. Suddenly you regret the taquito. Was it worth it? No! Now that you're full and you have to clean up, it definitely was NOT worth the taquito. Or the 12 taquitos. However many you ate. I'm not here to judge. That's between you and your Weight Watchers group.

You clean off the stove, the dishes are done and the house is aired out...as much as possible. You sprayed some lovely smelling odor-reducing spray. And now you have a delightful greasy roses smell in your kitchen.

Suddenly you realize you forgot one essential part of the clean up.... the pan of grease. The dreaded pan of grease.
I can't throw it down the drain. Dad said it'll clog the drain. And I'm not taking the blame for that.
You could throw it in the garbage, but it's icky and well...greasy. And hot. Hot and plastic don't mix. Learned that one the hard way. I'll never again make my world famous saran-wrap brownies.
You could throw it in the neighbor's yard. But, well...that made for a sticky situation when the neighbor caught me at two in the morning dumping a vat of grease in his award-winning tulip garden. I've never seen him so angry. I tried to convince him that I thought grease/mulch really helped Tulips and that it's all the rage in the Netherlands. When he picked up the rake and began swinging it wildly, I ran back to my house. Now with his security system, we can't risk it again.

What to do? What to do? I know! I'll do like Mom does. I'll pour it in a can that we keep under the sink. So, I take out the big can and I pour my grease to the can that is already half full with the other grease that has already solidified. I put the can back under the sink and voila! Problem solved! Case closed! I walk away, satisfied with a job well done!


Wait......what happens to the can of grease when it's full? I don't know. I've never known. And I may never know. My sisters and I discussed it. There is only one possible solution: The Grease Fairy. When the can is full, The Grease Fairy comes along and empties it for us. The Grease Fairy must be related to The Milk Fairy. Whenever we are low on milk...more gallons just pop up in our fridge, magically! Yes, they must be cousins. Not siblings, because one taketh and the other giveth. But, surely they are cousins.
Thank you Grease Fairy, thank you. Without her, we wouldn't know what to do with our grease. And we'd have a big ol' mess!

Someday when I have my own house and my own family, I'm going to have to ask my mom how to sign up for The Grease Fairy. I don't know if it's a subscription or if The Grease Fairy just magically knows when you need help. Or if you get a discount for using The Grease Fairy AND The Milk Fairy. Yes, when that someday comes, I'll just ask my mom. I'm sure she'll know.

Miracle Manna!!!

Ladies and gentlemen....brothers and sisters....citizens of this world... I have some big news for you. I can only hope that you are as ready to receive this message as I am to give this message.

Let me start by saying that anyone who knows me, knows that I love infomercials. While some people (morons) see an infomercial on the tv and change the channel looking for other programming, I actually change the channel looking for infomercials. They are the true genius of all television. The writers may strike...but the infomercial still goes on. Why? Because it is not scripted. It is real testimonials of real people who use the product and tell their real story about the wonders of the product and receive nothing in return except the satisfaction of knowing they helped other real people improve their own real lives.

But, I digress. The real reason I have come to blog this fine evening is that I have seen the infomercial to end all infomercials. If you never watch any other infomercial, please do not miss this one. (also, the magic bullet one is pretty classic. And, premiering soon.... "The Bangy")

This morning at about 3:30am I was blessed enough to catch an infomercial that nearly changed my life. Miracle Manna. Yes, like in the Bible. I once thought that the miracles of the Bible were long gone. I had no idea that some of those miracles actually still existed in a tangible sense. But, my friends, they do!
I know there are a few non-believers out there, but I also know there are a few wannabelievers... and for you, I say...read on.
I was skeptical at first. Miracle Manna? How can this be? But I heard real people tell their stories and I was sold! I am now convinced that this Miracle Manna could almost change my life too.
http://www.peterpopoff.org/

I am almost a changed woman now. One man who ordered the Miracle Manna was cured of his chronic illness! A woman received over $6,000 on the same day she received the Miracle Manna! I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, if I order the Miracle Manna and really believe in it's powers...there's no end to what may or may not change for me too!

I hope that I've changed your view from non-believer to wanna-believer to believer. Take it from a real person... it has nearly, almost, maybe changed my life already. It truly has changed my life in ways that haven't really changed my life at all. Let it do the same for you. Just believe.

Thank you.

Terrorist Attack....ish.

It was a close call folks. But, let me start by telling you that I am OKAY! Don't worry about me, I'm okay. But it was close. Really close. And I almost died. And still could. But I am okay.

You know and I know that there is a lot of danger out there. But I never suspected it would be so close to home.

I'm driving home from work, with my sister in the car next to me. And suddenly I notice that a van is following me. Not just any van. A terrorist van. Even worse than the kidnapping van we all know and hate. The kidnapping van is the van with no windows at all. We've all seen 'em. We all know 'em. The terrorist van is even worse. It's got a taller roof and also a place on the roof for terrorists to poke their guns out of and shoot bombs and whatnot.

So, the terrorists follow me up 12th east...they continue up 2200 north.....and here is the real clincher...they follow me onto 1450 east! That's when I knew they were after me. Nobody goes on 1450 unless they live there.
I always thought there was a sleeper cell on the university campus, but it looks like the "sleepers" have been awakened!

Once they followed me onto 1450 East I knew I couldn't lead them to my home. I had to be willing to take one for the team. I couldn't lead them to my parents. They would have slaughtered us all in an attempt to gather all of the intel we have. And I couldn't risk it.

So I drove around the block. Realizing that I was on to them, they aborted their mission.

I was relieved, but a part of me was sad that they backed down. I would have gone medieval on their hiney! I would have Jack Bauer'd their jugulars!!!

Be on alert! High alert! Never let your guard down! And just to be safe, you should carry around your own weapons and bombs. And Jack Bauer.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas...for five years.

Yes, it is true, Celine has left Vegas. For what? We don't know. I can only assume she's taking time off to have Renee cloned so she can actually grow old with someone who isn't dead by the time she's 45. Although, I could have sworn her father....err, her husband was already a clone.

Anyway, back to the distressing news...Celine's Vegas run is officially over. Five years, $400,000,000 earned, 716 shows and 11 standing ovations later...Celine, 'The Best Singer In The World' (her words, not mine), has left Vegas. And to think, I never even saw the show.

THANK GOODNESS. I can't keep this charade up any longer! I hate Celine! To put it in her native tongue, Je déteste Celine!!!

Who are these freaks who went to her last concert, you may ask?

One lady (whom I can only assume is single, will remain single for all of eternity, is a closet lesbian and owns 32 cats) has seen the show over 100 times!
There was the co-dependant couple who enabled one another and paid $15,000 for front row tickets. May God bless us all and make them sterile.
Then there was the man ( I use that term loosely) who moved to Vegas from Uzbekistan just to be closer to his idol. I'm pretty sure he will try to kill Renee just so he can have Celine to himself. Luckily, Celine has cloned Renee and won't even notice he is gone. But I do think it'll make a nice Lifetime 'Movie of the Week'!

And then there were the "celebrities." D-list, at best, I'd say closer to N-List (Not-really-Celebrities-list.) Robin Leach, Mia Michaels and Criss Angel. Boy, I would have paid top dollar to meet those three. How could one theater hold so much celebrity!!! Lucky, lucky theater goers.

All I can tell you is that it is now safe to go to Vegas again. Finally! We can take Vegas back from Celine and her followers! We are Freeeeeeee! Suck on that, Celine!

Annual Avian Census

I know it's been some time since my last entry. Forgive and forget, I always say! (as long as it's you forgiving me and forgetting my offense. If it's me forgiving and forgetting, not gonna happen.)

Anywho...On to important news. One of the things I love best about living in Utah is the hard hitting news. A lot happens here. Newsworthy stuff. Totally.
I just came across an article in the Salt Lake City Tribune about bird counting.Hmmm, I would think it's pretty darn impossible to count birds.Obviously, I was mistaken. There is an Annual Avian Census. If you're anything like me, you're giggling just thinking about it.What do they do? Demand that the birds line up and be counted? Give them all social security numbers? And do birds hire other animals to take them across the border illegally?Like if you're a Canadian Bird and you really want to live in the US, do you have to pay tons of bird seed to another bigger, more influential, American bird to illegally transport you in to the United States?And if all of this is true, I don't understand why I am just now hearing about this epidemic!? All of the politicians are asked over and over about illegal immigrants and what they plan to do...and this is the first time I'm hearing about the illegal birds. They seem to pose a higher threat than humans. Avian bird flu, anyone?
And talk about annoyance...how many people have been pooped on from above? I haven't, but I've seen it happen to others. On TV. But it has happened to my poor vehicle. Sad, but true. Why aren't we doing anything about this illegal bird epidemic? Illegal birds are a huge problem and I think I will run for congress on this platform.
I guess the first step to solving this problem is the Annual Bird Census. The following is the article that raised my awareness...http://www.sltrib.com/ci_7732365?source=rss
My favorite part of the article is...
"I love it," said Marilyn Davis, the education coordinator for the Red Cliffs chapter of the Audubon Society, which helped organize the event. "I look forward every year to this day when I can freeze to death and look at the scenery."
Honestly??? You helped organize this event and that's what you said???

Well, folks, I'm signing off, but I want you all to think about the epidemic of illegal birds and the Annual Bird Census and think of some ways that you, too, can help America.

Life as we know it...is over.

It's here. The day we've all been dreading. The stuff nightmares are made of. The end of the world as we know it. We made it through the t.v. Summertime Blues! We thought we were in the clear until next Spring when our shows go on hiatus. That is not the case.

The unthinkable has happened folks. It's time to think it. Think the unthinkable...The Hollywood writers have gone on strike.

Even as I write this I am in a fetal position rocking back and forth on the floor whimpering. That should show the level of commitment I have to this blog and MY fans. I would never go on strike. I know the people rely on me getting them regular blog entries. No matter how much I may want more money for my blog entries...I would never strike.
Those poo-poo heads in Hollywood have gone mad with power. Granted, they hold all the power. I can't enjoy my shows if they don't write them. Boo. Those whores.

Definition of Strike:
1. To hit sharply
2. To inflict a blow
3. Destroy Lisa's life

I can attest to all three. Woe is me. Woe is all of us. Without TV we are left to entertain ourselves. Like that's a good idea? Me thinks not. When I had TV I didn't HAVE to think. Now I do. And I don't think it's a good idea for us to have to entertain ourselves. Or for me to have to think.

Do you know what people did before we had TV? I do. Let me tell you. They invented things. Things they could use to entertain themselves so they didn't HAVE to think and invent things.

Cavemen drew on rocks and caves (doi, they were cavemen) so that they could later stare at these pictures to entertain themselves. (it was a very crude depiction of what we now know as a TV. They weren't the smartest Neanderthals around.)

The early Native American Indians made feather headdresses to wear so they could entertain the person across from them with the pretty colors. One person would wear the pretty hat while all the others would partake of some peyote. Suddenly all the pretty colors were a blur and the hat made funny noises. The more peyote they ingested, the better the Feather-Headdress-TV worked.

In 1876 Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. Why did he invent it? So he could call other people to ask them to come over and entertain him so he didn't have to do it himself anymore. Like he wanted to sit around inventing more crap so he could entertain himself? No! He used his invention to STOP having to sit around and think and entertain himself.

People get DESPERATE for entertainment. In 1897 this one sicko, James Henry Atkinson, invented something called "The Little Nipper" for entertainment purposes only. It was a mousetrap. He was so desperate for entertainment that he invented a contraption to catch mice so he could watch them die. He's a sicko. But I understand the desperation. This was, obviously, before TV. We would never resort to that crap if we have TV to entertain us first.

One man, well ahead of his time, was Benjamin Franklin. He was obviously gifted with a vision of the future. He was able to see that one day our beloved TV would exist. He got started right away on inventing electricity! Smart man. He knew it wouldn't happen in his lifetime, this beautiful glorious thing called television. But he knew it was for the greater good. A good man.

And why did the brave soldier risk it all to give us this gift??? So we wouldn't have to think for ourselves! So we wouldn't have to continue to invent crap to entertain ourselves! I'd like to thank this brave man. And in the same breath I'd like to curse those money-hungry-Hollywood-sons-of-bitches.

Give the writers what they want. I can't take it anymore! Give the people their TV back!

Somewhere... in heaven, Benjamin Franklin is letting out a tumultuous cry as he watches everything he envisioned with his prophetic sight crumble before his eyes. Generations weep with you Mr. Franklin. Generations weep. I weep. I weep... openly.

update on our Gnat bastard situation

We have won. The war is over. The gnats have lost. May it be a lesson to ALL gnats and creatures alike.

We had to track down the source. After searching the interweb tirelessly... (well, truthfully, it was tiring. Is the opposite of tirelessly tirefully? I don't think that is a real word. Anyway, I searched and was exhausted. )
After searching the interweb for causes behind the gnats, Shawna and I realized it was nothing conventional that had caused this. No rotting food. No weird stagnant water. No plant gnats. Nothing that was a common cause.
We had to use our own detective skills and came up with unconventional causes. One of which was that maybe one of us was farting them out. Shawna and I spent a very embarrassing (and stinky) 10 minutes together researching this idea... turns out that neither one of us was farting the gnats.

We went back to killing them daily, hoping they would get the hint and their friends would be warned! It was not working and we were suffering still.

And one day, we realized...someone was farting it out. It was our own sweet mother. Once we got her diet regulated the gnats disappeared! Coincidence...I think not.

Victory!

Magical invention!!!!

I'm walking through Wal-Mart, hating every second of it. Let's clear things up... I don't hate Walmart. Just all the people. If I had it to myself I wouldn't mind it at all!

Back to the important story....

Walking through Walmart...see an end-cap.... and realize that it is a miracle invention!!!!! OMG! I was overwhelmed. Then I checked my emotions because I didn't know if it would actually work or not and didn't want to get my hopes up. So, I was just whelmed.
I put it in my cart for $2.00 and went on my whelmed way.

I arrive home. Ready to test the product. It is a self-contained, self-heating Hot Cocoa extravaganza! It has the water and cocoa in the container and it heats itself up.

You pull a tab, press a button, wait 5 minutes, shake it up and enjoy! It was magically delicious! I moved from whelmed to overwhelmed in a matter of 5 minutes!!! It's fabulous!

I don't know in what situation I will not have a microwave, a cup, a spoon, a packet of hot cocoa and tap water... but if I ever come across it, this is going to make my life so much better!
And, even if I am never in that dire situation, let's be honest, from the Lazy Code of Ethics standpoint... this product makes our life worth sort-of living.


www.ontech.com

Check it out. Much cheaper at Walmart than on their own website. Worth every penny.

Gnats

Dratted gnats have invaded our lives. It's ridonkulous!!!

They're everywhere. At one point they seemed to be reproducing at remarkable rates. I was convinced that one of us must be farting them out. It seemed to be the only plausible explanation.
None of the usual causes for gnats are in our home. They are magical gnats. They can appear and reappear out of nowhere! And they seem to be smarter than the average gnat. They know when we're coming for them.

We have used every single suggestion for getting rid of gnats that I could find on the interweb. With the exception of one... they suggested putting on rubber gloves, coating them in Vaseline and running around the house catching them in our Vaseline coated hands. And, to be honest, we would have tried that...we couldn't find any gloves. We were desperate. We would have done it.
According the interweb, gnats are attracted to the sweet scent of vinegar.

We have tried:

white vinegar, which caught ZERO gnats.
apple cider vinegar, which did catch gnats
apple cider vinegar mixed with dishwashing detergent, caught a few
apple cider vinegar mixed with baking soda, which caught the most gnats
apple cider vinegar mixed with bleach, which caught zero gnats
We put plain apple cider in a cup and covered it with plastic wrap and poked it with a toothpick to create holes. The gnats go in like idiots and can't get out. Managed to catch a few.

We poured bleach down our sink drains to kill them.

Shawna burned one gnat with a match. Although it only resulted in one gnat's death, it went a long way towards raising team spirit. ("team" being Shawna and I. It's us against those damn gnats.)

And we used sticky bug traps which resulted in a mass killing. (I would imagine that the "Gnat Nightly News" is covering this mass murder that happened. I'm sure Shawna and I are deemed terrorists on their news coverage. Which I think is highly prejudicial. We attacked because they attacked us first. I didn't go invade their home. They invaded mine! And we will fight back, biotch!!! We're taking back OUR house! Can I get an amen????)

Also, we used the bug zapper we have for flies. It's not easy because the gnats are much smaller than flies so they easily slip through the net, but if you are persistent, you will succeed eventually. The resulting POP sound when they die is quite gratifying. Don't judge me for thinking that. You'd feel the same way if gnats had worn you down. It's my primal right to defend my crib!

Still, after all of the methods...there are gnats in the house. We are going to smoke them out. It might result in another house fire, but sometimes that's the only way to truly cleanse the place.

We will do whatever it takes to get rid of the gnats.

P.S. positive side note- if we smoke out the gnats, it may also kill those bastard spiders that are still trying to assassinate me.

P.P.S. We still can't rule out that maybe they are being farted out of one of us. The only way to be sure is for one of us to fart and the other to watch for gnats. And, as of yet, we have been unwilling to go through with this experiment. I don't like to breathe fart air, so we may never know the truth.

Success in sewing!

We did it... we did it.... we finally finished our sewing project.

We took it to Cindy (sister in law's mom, amazing seamstress) and had her do it. And let me tell you, it wasn't difficult AT ALL. I brought her some chocolate and she finished it in no time at all!

Why didn't we think of that first???

Failure

I have failed as woman. And not alone. My sister and I have failed together. Our combined brain power and the brilliance of the internet was not enough to help us successfully thread a sewing machine.
The project started 1 hour an 54 minutes ago. We took the sewing machine out. And 1 hour and 24 minutes later... success! We threaded the machine. And even managed to sew a small, sock-sized pillow for our beloved mother. (more about her later)
We managed the pillow and began checking out the different thread patterns. Now, I don't want to point fingers, but Shawna was playing with the sewing machine when it broke. Is it her fault? Probably. I'm not going to say that to her though. She is much stronger than me.
Nonetheless, we were back to square one and the sewing machine no longer had thread.
Boo. :(

4 minutes ago Shawna managed to thread the machine again. One small problem... the machine is not actually sewing anything. Damn machine.

Now, more about our beloved mother. How could she do this to us? Neither my sister or I (and, to be honest, my older sister too) know how to sew. We can't even thread the machine. Well, we did thread it and promptly broke it (again, Shawna's fault) and are still struggling. 2 hours and 3 minutes later. Thanks a lot Mom. And where is our mother? Galavanting around the countryside following Kenny Rogers around. Groupie!!! What scares me the most is that my Dad is with her. Driving. Apparently he enjoys Kenny as well.
Back to the point... Our mom knows we love to sew in the Fall. How could she abandon us with no sewing machine skills??????????


I'll update you when I have more news.

Spider Bite... maybe.

So, this morning I woke up and got in the shower. (yes, it was at ten in the morning...don't judge me!)

I'm washing my hair and suddenly I notice a disfiguring red mark on my arm!!! It's a spider bite! It must be! There are no other possible explanations. (yes, I'm aware that I frequently break out in mysterious bumps and/or hives, but I'm sure this one is a spider bite.)

You can see for yourself. It's hideous and disfiguring. And it's totally going to destroy my bracelet modeling career. Great! What's next? How much more can I take? These bitches are good. They are wearing down my mental and emotional health. (let's face it, it wasn't a hard task.) I don't think this is a deadly spider wound, although I am not a doctor, so I can't say for sure. I think they sent a benign spider to see if it could even be successful in getting through my defenses. Well, it was successful. And I know what's coming next! The head honcho is going to come finish me off!!! I've loved you all and will miss you.

Update on Spider Assassination ATTEMPT

Well, I know many people laughed at me and my belief that the spiders were actually trying to kill me... but I think I'm right.
This morning, I went into the bathroom to use the toilet. (this is as much as I'm willing to say about that because the toilet is a private area...or at least it used to be.)
I sit on the toilet, minding my own business and suddenly I see something moving up the wall to my left.... AUGH!!!! A spider. A damn, damn, dammity, damn, damn spider!!!!!
Normally I would run from the spider, but I was not in a position to run away...without some dribble. I grabbed some toilet paper and I smashed the spider! I killed that sucker. I felt good about it for about 2 seconds until I realized that the spider was merely a spider pawn.

Clearly, the first spider on my arm trying to reach my jugular to kill me wasn't destroyed when I pushed it off my arm and ran out of my room. Obviously, the spider did exactly as I thought it would. It went back to it's little fort and rounded up his friends. They made a plan. The spider they sent to the bathroom was expendable. He was willing to risk his life for this cause.

I defeated the first attempt. But, clearly, they are going to re-group and find more heinous ways to take my life.
I don't know what's going to kill me first... the brain tumor or the spiders.