In lieu of something witty.

I got nothin’. No funny stories, no topless pictures, no witty. I mean, I have tons of stuff to write about, and I might, but that’s not the stuff that gets posted. I admire people like Cheryl and Tim because they talk about things that are hard for them and they express it so well. Marissa and Sass also have a way with words and can talk about their feelings honestly. Dasi tells wrenching stories from her past and is also really honest.

I’m not that person. Don’t get me wrong – I’m real and I’m genuine and I'm honest, and in real life, I would probably let you in – maybe too much. But on here, it’s easier and safer for me to keep some things to myself. In fact, it’s not just here – in my real life, I keep a lot to myself because I don’t like to show what I perceive in myself to be weakness. I don’t like to be dependent on anyone else. So there are lots of things that I don’t talk about. The hard things. The sad things. The things that occupy my head and that I use this blog to forget about. The things that make me wish I didn’t live alone.

I love living alone, but the thing that is hard for me is that I miss being touched. I am a touchy feely person – I will hug you and sit close to you and snuggle you and lay my head on your shoulder. I want someone who I can do all of that with and not have to even talk if I don’t want to. Because sometimes I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I literally can’t. And the people that I can’t talk to are the ones that I want to talk to the most.

So yeah. Today I have no funny stories. Today I just don’t have a lot of words.

Best. Present. EVER.

It's not my birthday (although mark your calendars because I turn the big 3-0 on April 15) but I got a package from Linda in the mail on Wednesday and it had THIS in it:

Is this not the best shirt ever? If you remember, Linda and I had come up with a line of our own greeting cards a while back, and this was one of our catchy catchphrases.

Linda sends the best care packages ever. Last year for my birthday, she sent me a crossword puzzle in which all the clues were about me. Because I had once told her that I would know I had made it when I was a clue in a crossword puzzle. One of the (multiple) times I was worried about whether or not my company would fold (And p.s., STILL WORRIED. Or worried again, either or), leaving me with no job and a mortgage, she sent me a package that included saltines, a hershey bar, and packets of ketchup -- you know, so I wouldn't starve. Ha. And the most recent package included this shirt and a bunch of miniature rubber duckies so that I could float them in a relaxing bath. But the best part about the ducks? They're PIRATES -- and as you may or may not know, I love me some pirates. My point is, Linda corners the market on care packages.

She's a good friend. She's the one good thing I got to keep from this. She was the nanny before me, and although we weren't friends at first, once we figured out that she didn't hate me (as I was told she did) and that I didn't hate her (as she was told I did) we banded together in order to crack each other up on a pretty much daily basis. She's funny and sympathetic and empathetic and thoughtful and TOTALLY creative, and when you're her friend, she will take good care of you.

I have a lot of people in my life who take excellent care of me when I need them to, and when I let them -- actually, even when I don't. I'm lucky like that. And if you're an ass, guess what? Check my blog -- I mock you there.

Reason #8,952 why I’m glad I’m not in politics.

I hate politics. I have zero interest in it (them?). I think it’s unbelievably boring and while obviously I’m a fan of democracy, I take issue with liars and cheaters and politicians in general. Yes, I think in generalized terms in this instance, no you don’t need to try and convert me. Believe me, I’ve dealt with PLENTY of politicians and for the most part? Generalization? Correct. Sorry. Because in the course of my job, I’ve had the dubious honor of being involved in state government. And frankly, the only part of it I ever found remotely interesting or worthwhile was the time I spent with MyBoyfriendJB and Big Blonde Boyfriend. Because it was fun and amusing and I think I’ve mentioned how they’re easy on the eyes.

Sorry. Back to Reason #8,952. Today I had the not-at-all-pleasing pleasure of attending the House Finance Committee Meeting. There were 5 bills on the docket, and luckily, the one I was there for was second. Not luckily, the people testifying for the bill talked and talked and talked. Did I mention the bill was about changing legislation involving the waste tire fund here? Fascinating. So I heard a lot about waste tire uses and some other stuff, presumably, but between completely zoning out AND almost falling asleep no less than three times, well, I just don’t remember. Two hours of my life that I'll never get back.

So today, I added to my list Reason #8,952 why I’m glad I’m not in politics: I don’t have to regularly sit through/take notes at/participate in any sort of boring-ass committee meetings. And because I realize it needs to be done, I also appreciate that there are people out there that do it. And I appreciate even more that one of those people is not me.

You wanted it...

Since "ask and you shall receive" is my motto, well, here you go. Topless pictures, just like I promised... It’s my topless debut y'all – look at the coy “finger to the lips” move while I stare straight into the camera. I’m a natural, wouldn’t you say? Being a model is exhausting – shoo, you dirty paparazzi – I need my beauty sleep! Yes! I’m in the bathtub! I’m splashing! I’m smiling! Oh, it’s all so fun and carefree!!
Another bathtub shot – but look! This one is different…I’m working on my future here! I can’t be a fabulous topless model forever! I mean, I COULD, but any smart girl knows you need a vocation. So that’ll be Dr. Hot Topless Model to you. And before you even ask…YES. I AM a natural blond. And we DO have more fun.
And finally, the pouty, serious face. You’ll note the colors of the jacket I have on in the picture. I obviously bought it before the fiasco masquerading as a football game that took place on Sunday. Pathetic. I’m totally taking that jacket back to the designer. They were wrong -- orange and blue is NOT the new black.

So yeah. There you go – not just ONE topless picture, but THREE! How lucky are you, Romey?

How to spend an excellent weekend…

Friday – spend most of the day at the mall wandering around with someone awesome. I mean really, how is that not a good day? There was breakfast, there was coffee, there was the wandering and the chatting and the awesome. Good times. Then go meet your friends from grad school for drinks and dinner downtown. Make fun of the large boy in the shirt that says “BMF” and conclude that the only thing that could possibly stand for is “big mother f***er.” Therefore, be stealth about making fun of him because getting your ass kicked is no way to end a great day. Contemplate whether the guy in the blue polyester leisure suit with the GINORMOUS afro is participating in some sort of hazing ritual. And is that his real hair? When your friends suggest you go pull it, just to see, decline politely, reminding them that he is with the BMF. And you like your nose just where it’s currently situated on your face, thanks.

Saturday – Hang around in your pajamas all morning. Meet Sally and Mandy for lunch. Go to best bra store IN THE WORLD. This place seriously makes Victoria’s Secret look like the bra section at Kmart. Wait 40 minutes for your turn to be fitted. Covet a blue silk robe Get over any sort of modesty issues you might have as the salesgirl fits you for bras. Covet the blue silk robe again. Decide on some bras, and decide that owning those is more important than buying groceries. Between you and Mandy, spend about $700 on six bras. Agree that it was totally worth it because these bras? Make you look HOT. Look longingly at blue silk robe as you go out the door. Go home, bake a cake and head over to the house of your Partner in Crime (or, “The Notorious P.I.C” as I call him). Watch season 2 of “Arrested Development” while laughing your ass off. Eat cake and pizza and drink champagne. Fall asleep on the couch no later than 11. Because you’re a party ANIMAL. Wake up and go home, realizing that all too soon, the alarm will be going off for you to get up for church. Also realize that this sucks.

Sunday – Go to church, stay there for what seems like forever. Eat lunch at your parents’ house and go home with the intention of taking a looooong nap. Turn on your computer – just to check your email real quick – and see that your friend Chris who is in Croatia is online and you haven’t talked to him in like a week. Talk to him and find out that he’s coming to Montana for camp this summer! Yay! All of your months of pestering have finally paid off, although in reality, his reasons for coming to camp actually have nothing really to do with you. However, that’s not the point. Yay! Just as you’re about to take a nap, get a call from Joe saying to come over and watch the rest of the game and eat dinner. Skip the nap entirely, go to the nearly deserted mall with your mom (where you walk around commenting under your breath about the way kids these days dress), and then head over to Joe and Sally’s to see the last minutes of the Broncos getting their asses handed to them. Chill in the recliner, eat some dinner, watch the Seahawks game and then The Sopranos. Go home and call it a night at 8:45. Awesome.

Which brings us to today. Stupid work. Oh and also? Since the Broncos lost, Romey, you’re getting your topless picture. I’m always up for a bet, and it was a pretty pathetic loss. SO. Check back tomorrow.

Oh, and since we’re on the subject, I was wondering why suddenly, strangers who come here think it’s totally fine to leave comments about how I must be yummy in bed or how I should come to their blog for the coffee and stay for the sex? What. The. Hell?

On behalf of my city...

...I sincerely apologize. I'm two songs into the American Idol audition special that was filmed in Denver and OH DEAR GOD. MAKE IT STOP.

Seriously. I'm so sorry. Not everyone in Denver is this crazy or tone deaf.

"Everyone seemed to have a special skill." Yeah, Seacrest. Except singing isn't one of those skills, apparently.

"Rockers" -- yes, if you mean "Off their rockers." Damn. Please stop.

"I've only ever sang in front of a turkey." I seriously laughed out loud and all through the commercials. Sweet little cowboy. But he made it through. Up next: his first ever trip on a plane.

I wonder if these people are just delusional or mildly retarded...this is exemplified by "Flawless" and his fellow "entrepre-ture-entrepreneur." What I'm getting from Flawless is that what he's singing? It is your song. And that's all there is to it, mostly because he doesn't really know the rest of the words. If Elton John were dead, he'd be spinning in his grave. Oh god. His buddy "Inventor Ben" (who, by the way is undefeated in Chess for the past 3 years) is singing "If I Only Had A Brain" -- it's not just appropriate, it's downright PROPHETIC. Sigh. Also I may have overstated the term "singing." Because it wasn't, really.

Hmm. Zach. Dasi warned me about this. I got nothin'. Seriously. Stunned into...nothin'. WAIT. His family is...interesting. His sister wears white frosty lipstick. It looks, uh, stunning. Yep. Stunning. You know, like she drank some chalky white substance and didn't notice that it was totally covering her lips. But the best part was that the show put in the song "The Crying Game" as he walked away from the audition. Because Zach? May or may not be a chick.

Ok. That's it. I have to turn the channel immediately so as not to get sucked into "Skating with Celebrities."

I could never top this funeral.

So most of the funerals I’ve been to have been very solemn, rather formal affairs. I don’t have to explain it – I’m sure you’ve been to a funeral before. And save for a couple of funerals, I don’t generally remember them. They’re not something you necessarily want to remember.

HOWEVER, there is one funeral that will live in infamy. It was early at my job, so I wasn’t miserable and disillusioned yet. I was working with the Governor’s office to plan a huge event, and so I spent a lot of time downtown with the government people. This particular office had a staff mostly of people around my age – and so it turned out to be pretty fun. I also developed the biggest crush on the guy I will forever refer to as “MyBoyfriendJB” – it’s all one word. Yes it is. And to this day, when I talk to him, I still call him by his first and last name. I don’t know why. I just do. Oh, and that’s also where I met Big Blond Boyfriend for the first time. So between JB, BBB and the hot intern Adam, well, let’s just say spending lots of time with these guys was NOT a hardship.

Did I mention this event was huge? It was obviously not something we could do on our own, and so we had an event planning company helping. The lady who ran it was so sweet – very motherly and fun and just really cool. We’ll call her Lynn. One day, I was probably sitting in JB’s office (because that’s what I did most days – distracted him from his work and tried not to pass out because he was so damn cute) and we found out that Lynn’s husband had died suddenly of a heart attack. It was very sad, and since we all totally loved her, we were all going to go to the funeral.

Lynn and her husband lived in a small mountain town, and the funeral was going to be at their house. We trooped up there – the boys in suits and ties, the girls in appropriate office wear. I had on a black skirt, black jacket and heels, which was mistake one. It was fricking hot and also? Walking down a gravel driveway in heels is nearly impossible without landing on your ass. I did it, but it was touch and go for a minute. Lynn’s yard is beautiful – huge, with big trees, flowers, and everything was so green. There were tons of chairs set up, and also tents set up with food and drinks. So the girls and I went and found seats, kind of toward the back of the yard. There were a LOT of people there – basically the whole town plus lots of people from the adjoining small towns, and so the seats started filling up. This guy came and sat down in front of us, and set his Pepsi under his chair. This is when two things happened. First, he flashed us the biggest expanse of plumber’s crack I NEVER WANT TO SEE AGAIN as he leaned over, and second, the reason he was leaning over was so he could get the bottle of Jack Daniels out of his pocket to add to his Pepsi. Wow. Ok. Whatever, it’s a mountain town. I can get past the Jack. What I couldn’t get past was the crack. His shirt was hiked up and the crack? Still very visible. And he’s sitting right in front of me, so I can’t stop looking. Gah. MY EYES!! After about 5 minutes of torture, I got up and went and stood next to JB back by the kegs. Yes, the kegs. And because he’s ever the gentleman, JB got me a beer. I needed it, just so I could start getting the memory of Captain Cracktastic out of my head.

The service was kind of long – I think. We were people watching and not paying a lot of attention. And there was beer. Anyway, after it was over, people were milling around, eating and drinking, and I see JB and Adam looking at this one lady fairly closely. JB says “She posed in Playboy” and I’m like “Seriously? You read it so intently that you recognize the bunnies?” Then he proceeds to tell me that she was also the former mayor of another nearby mountain town – which is quite a story in itself, but suffice it to say, she left office under a cloud of crazy. And then posed for Playboy. Interesting career path, but hey, ok. So she comes over and I can’t exactly remember how she started talking to JB and Adam, but I think they probably struck up a conversation using a suave line such as “Hey! You posed in Playboy!”

And immediately, this woman, who has had more plastic surgery than Joan Rivers, is in her mid-forties, and kind of looks like the term “rode hard and put away wet” totally applies to her, is ALL OVER Adam. She’s touching his chest and playing with his tie and smoothing his shirt. She’s looking up at him and flirting and blinking and “accidentally” brushing his arm with her fake boobs. If by “brushing” you mean “pressing very obviously”. It was hilarious and horrifying and pathetic, all at once. We seriously didn’t know whether it was so wrong that we should do something about it, or if we should stay out of it and pay close attention in order to make sure Adam never lived it down. We chose the last one. Because what’s not fun about teasing the gorgeous 21 year old boy about the time the skanky woman who was easily twice his age was pretty much trying to do him in the yard. Right after a funeral. That’s comedy GOLD, people. And also, most of us had to walk away in order not to laugh out loud right in front of her, so we couldn’t have helped him anyway. Awesome.

So yeah. Definitely the most interesting funeral ever. I had forgotten about the Adam part until the other day when I was talking to JB. I can’t believe I forgot – but apparently I could only remember so much after the memory of Cracker Jack was burned into my brain. Ew.

It's all very random. Shocking, I know.

Another conversation I had Friday night.

A: How come you’re so handsome?
*No answer*
A: You’re so cute when you smile…
*No answer*
A: You’re such a sweet boy!
*No answer*
A: You’re such a good baby. Yes. Who’s a good baby? YOU are. Look at you – look at that big smile! Awww. You’re so precious. Yes you are.

Yup. That was the conversation I had with the 2 month old baby I was babysitting on Friday night. Ha. Did you think I was having a sad, one-sided conversation with a guy who had absolutely no interest in me? Of course not. I did that SATURDAY night. Oh no I didn’t. Ah ha ha! I crack myself up. Seriously, he was such a sweet baby. He didn’t fuss or cry or anything. I rocked him and held him until he fell asleep and then I laid on the couch, watching t.v. with him asleep on my chest until his parents got home. I was going to put him in his bed, but I just couldn’t. Babies are awesome.

Why do I have such expensive taste? I’ve been looking for a headboard for my bed. But I’ve run into two problems with that. The first is that all the beds that I like are over $1,000, which, unless I get a financial windfall in the near future, pretty much rules out my getting those beds. And second? I can’t decide what I want. I’ve always wanted a sleigh bed, but then there are a bunch of different styles of that. Do I want my room to have a Cape Cod-esque theme, thereby forsaking the sleigh bed? How do I feel about Mission furniture? Do I want dark wood? Cherry? Mahogany? No oak. I don’t like oak. Maybe I don’t get a headboard at all and create a sort of headboard LOOK using picture frames or something like that. Oh the decisions.

Sunday nights at the grocery store are a study in sociology. There are all the single girls over in the produce section, buying fruit and vegetables and things to make salads. There were no less than four of us, picking out avocados and apples and other delicious things that unfortunately, aren’t Oreos. What? We’ll be over in the ice cream section later where we’ll be picking out Ben & Jerry’s. I mean, sugar-free popsicles. Then there’s the obviously single guy in his sweat pants carrying ten Totino’s party pizzas. I’m not kidding. I laughed after he had gotten past me. There’s the couple arguing about salad dressing. They’ve obviously been together for a while. Then there’re the cutesy couples who still hold hands and compromise on what they’re going to buy. Precious. And of course, there’re the bag boys who are discussing the fact that they both got expelled from high school for upwards of seven months. Neat.

Anyway, hope everyone had a great weekend. Hopefully you have today off. I do not. I'm not bitter though. Nope. Not bitter at all, bitches. What? I meant have a lovely day.

Because I feel like I should post something

This is what you get. Not witty, not creative. Because my life is not altogether that interesting right now. I mean, a girl can't sit behind the bench at the Avs game EVERY night. She can WISH she were, but it probably won't happen. So here you go. Tidbits of conversations.

J: …I’m telling you, you should definitely go to a strip club when you’re in Vegas. Here’s the thing…
A: Hold up -- I’ve told you what my song would be if I were a stripper, right?
J: Wait, what? What would it be?
A: Cowboy by Kid Rock. And I’d wear boots and a hat. Anyway, what were you saying?
J: What?
A: You said “here’s the thing…”
J: Yeah. I don’t remember.

Here’s where I don’t transcribe for you the conversation between Kendra, Karen and I last night regarding the horrors of childbirth that no one ever tells you about. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to have kids, but the horrors? They will be in the back of my mind…

C: …It’s a nice day and I decided “hey, I’ll wear shorts today.” So I’m welding away, and all of the sudden, I smell something burning. I’m like “what the hell?”
A: Was it your leg hair?
C: It was MY SHORTS. I was like “Stop drop and roll! STOP DROP AND ROLL!” and then, once the fire was out, when I looked down, about a quarter of the leg of my shorts was burned away. And also all of the hair on my leg.
A: *Laughing* I’m sure THAT looks attractive.
C: Yeah. I was just going to try and play it off, but then later I was at the gym and this guy comes up to me and says “what happened to your leg?” So I went home and shaved both my legs. And if you tell anyone, I’ll totally deny it.
A: *Laughing at the mental picture of manly Mr. Welder boy shaving his legs*
C: Plus, I got my hair cut and shaved my beard so now, with my smooth legs? I look like a 10 year old.

And that my friends, is the product of me when my life is boring.

Mi Casa es Su Casa...

You asked for it -- pictures of most of my house. Now that I've gotten everything painted to my liking, well, here it is...

The Kitchen. I'm not going to lie -- I'm a good cook. When I was looking for places, I had two criteria: big kitchen and big bathtub. This place -- of course -- has both. LOVE the storage space in the cabinets and my cooktop stove. Happy happy kitchen...



















The dining room. There is a wine theme in there -- winery doors and pictures of Napa. Also, there's a cat on one of the chairs -- she doesn't really fit the wine theme, but we'll let it slide...














Directly across from the dining room is the Living Room. I spend a lot of time there. My computer is there on the coffee table and my t.v. is also there. Door to the balcony. I have no good commentary for this room. Except for can you see the roses Kendra brought me last week? Who's the best friend ever?














Here is the Fireplace -- I tried to take it so you could see the awesome vaulted ceiling. Oh Gil Grissom -- open your eyes when I'm taking a picture.



















Accent Wall. Map of Napa. Hallway to the other bedroom. Fascinating, I know.



















Myyyyyy bedroooooommmm. Comfy bed, vaulted ceilings. Slate blue silk curtains. Relaxing green color. It looks slightly more "minty" than it does in real life -- it's a gray-blue-green-ish color. However the fuzzy black cat is exactly the color he looks.



















Here it is from another vantage point. Seriously, does it not make you want to lay down and take a nap? I love my room so much...














Anyway, there you have it. My house. Thanks for stopping by.

Down in front!!

So last night Kendra and I went to the Avalanche game -- go there for more recap. Anyhoo.

“I have really great seats” she said. Yeah, um that was like the understatement of the century. Because they WERE really great – if by “really great” you mean “separated from the Avs bench by glass.” Holy shit. So if you watched the game, well, you may have seen us in the shots of the bench. We’d be the two girls drinking vodka tonics and whispering about BOYS. What? No, I meant HOCKEY. Whispering about HOCKEY. Hockey Boys.

There they were – right in front of me. Dan Hinote. Joe Sakic. A bunch of guys who I had no clue who they were. However, by the end of the game, I knew who they were, even though I couldn’t pronounce their names. Skrastins – who Kendra affectionately named, um, something inappropriate that sounds sorta similar. Vaananen -- “It sounds like that Muppets song ‘mahnahmahnah.’” And of course, Boughner. Heh. There were ridiculous puns that aren’t going to be mentioned here. There were A LOT of stealth camera phone pictures. There were the requisite jokes about hockey terms. Penalties for hooking. Heh. Penalties for holding the stick. Double Heh. The requisite jokes and observations about the people who act like crazy people when the big screen camera is on them.
Anyway. I’ve actually met Dan Hinote and I find him to be gorgeous. I’m VERY partial to men with dark hair and light eyes, and lucky for him, well, he has both. So he’s my new Avalanche boyfriend – only because Peter Forsberg is no longer with us. (Sigh. You always remember your first hockey love.) Although I might be persuaded to leave Hinote for Ossi Vaananen. Because at first, Kendra and I just made fun of his name – but since he sat in front of us for most of the game, well, we saw a lot of his pretty pretty face when he’d come off the ice. I will say that I showed remarkable restraint when I refrained from pressing my lips up against the glass. I thought about it, I wanted to, but I thought it might not look altogether “cool.” I did notice, however, that even when he’s all sweaty and his hair is wet and curling out the bottom of his helmet, Dan Hinote has the most gorgeous skin. And you know that under all that padding, well, all I can say is what I said all night: “ohhhhhh to be a pair of hockey paaaaaants…”

Seriously. Look at him. SO PRETTY.

The Avs won the game. I know it sounds like we didn’t pay much attention to it, but honestly? It was hard to see around all of the players when they would stand up. But I couldn’t very well yell “Down in front!!!” Plus, they totally blew out the St. Louis Blues – 6-1. Nice work boys. Nice work.

*Just an FYI -- all the pictures are ones I took myself, except for the last one of Hinote. That was courtesy of our local CBS affiliate*

I'd totally hit that

After reading Kendra’s blog Friday and then Rico’s HI-LARIOUS comment, it reminded me of a story.

You may remember I've mentioned Guy With The Hottest Ass Ever, who works at my office building. He actually works in my suite, and I would often see him when I was on my way to the bathroom or to get water, and it was AWESOME to walk behind him. The typical scenario would be Marlene and I walking somewhere, he’s in front of us, she and I exchange meaningful glances and once we’re out the door we’re like “DAMN.” Oh to be a pair of jeans…

SO. As time passed, and I actually talked to him one time when we were outside during a fire drill (it sounds so high school crush-y – “Ohmygod! We totally talked during the fire drill! He’s so hot!” Although in retrospect I shouldn’t joke about that because the guy I had an ENORMOUS crush on when I was a junior asked me to prom during a fire drill. I’m sorry. What were we taking about?) I decided that his ass was definitely his best feature. He was sorta "meh" in the looks department, not that witty and also his voice was kind of grating. I’m not going to lie – those issues diminished the hotness of his ass.

However, not to be a guy or anything but let’s be honest – despite the above mentioned (VERY IMPORTANT and NOT AT ALL SHALLOW) reasons I wasn’t that attracted to him, the fact remains that I did, at one time, totally want to hit that. Then one morning, as I was backing up, attempting to straighten out my lame parking, I almost hit him. And not in a good way. I mean really, who takes their life in their hands walking behind a car with REVERSE LIGHTS on first thing in the morning? I couldn’t believe it. Of the one meeeellion people who work at my freaking office building, HE was the one I almost ran down. Couldn’t. Believe it. I guess I don’t have to tell you how awkward it was later when I saw him. I was like “hey, sorry I almost totally ran you over this morning.” I can’t remember what he said back, mostly because I was trying to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

Luckily, the company moves people’s offices all the time and they moved him and his group at the beginning of December. I never have to endure the awkwardness again. And while I may occasionally mourn the loss of the sweet-ass visual (pun totally intended), well, I’m over it.

When the Day is Done

When the day is done
I hope you're still the same
I hope that nothing's changed with you
When the day is done
there's something in your eyes
have they seen too many lies come true
When the day is done

When the day is done
a secret I can keep
a promise I have deep with you
Oh no something's wrong
the fastest things
have slowly gone

When the day is done
I hope you're still the same
I hope that nothing's changed with you
When the day is done
there's something in your eyes
have they seen too many lies come true
When the day is done
-- The Samples

That’s it. That’s all I have right now. I love that song. It was one of the ones from our greatest hits cd, and until last weekend, I hadn't heard it in FOREVER. Since then, for some unknown reason, I’ve been listening to it constantly. I love his voice and I love the words.

My head is full of things to say and things to write about. But the words aren’t coming out right. In my real life either. I keep writing and saying the wrong things. It’s like I can’t control it. And it’s irritating.

So I’ll use someone else’s words and leave it at that.

Why I like my neighbors

So I was making some dinner the other night – chicken and a really great salad. I opened the fridge to get out the salad dressing and guess what? No dressing. I cleaned out the fridge recently and apparently forgot to replenish the dressing supply. So I went downstairs to my neighbors’ house and borrowed some. Dinner tragedy: Averted. I finally painted my bedroom and because of the vaulted ceilings, I needed an extension ladder. Borrowed it from my neighbor.

It made me think about how I’m happy that I have great neighbors. At all of my other places, I never knew anyone who lived around me. But here, I know pretty much everyone in my building. We all moved in at the same time, because it was a new build and we all closed around the same time, plus, most of us are about the same age. I ended up being really good friends with the aforementioned downstairs neighbors, Mark and Katie. They’re cool, and I like having neighbors that I actually talk to and like. Mark has a little boy from his first marriage, named Kyle. Kyle is 5, and quite possibly the cutest little thing ever. He’s this tiny little blonde guy with these BIG brown eyes and a charming little boy squeaky voice. He also has a typical little kid speech impediment, where he can’t say certain letters correctly. He has a hard time with “k” and “r”.

Which brings me to the best Kyle story ever. We had just moved in and one evening, Mark and one of his buddies were moving his new couch into the house. Kyle was with them and I was out on my balcony. I asked if Kyle wanted to come up and visit the kitties so he’d be out from underfoot downstairs. So Kyle troops up the stairs and comes in. He takes off his shoes and wanders around, looking at the house. He played with the cats and I put a movie in for him. I got him a snack and he was all set up. Every once in a while, he’d go out on the balcony to see what his dad was doing, and so at one point, he goes out and sees Mark and he yells “Daddy! Daddy! I saw the titties! There’s a big titty and a little titty!!” Mark and I look at each other and I’m like “It was the cats! THE CATS! He saw the cats!!” And we’re totally cracking up. When Mark came to get him later, Kyle asked if he could bring his Bronco slippers to my house because he wanted to stay. HE IS SO ADORABLE. (I later told my friend Ladonna about it, and she’s like “dude, it’s obvious he was talking about the CATS – there are no little titties at your house!” Heh. Sorry. Was that too much information?) So yeah. It’s cool to have good neighbors. I know we’re all going to move away sooner or later, but for now, at least I lived by great people at my first house. Right? This picture is from last year I think. I can't remember. But HOW ADORABLE is he?

Pre-New Year's Eve Party by the numbers

Every year at Christmas, we have our Annual A-List Christmas Party. We began the tradition in college, and our first party consisted of drinking Boone’s Farm while we made “Man Cookies.” We made gingerbread men and decorated them like the boy who most recently wronged us, and then we ate them. Therapeutic AND delicious! We’ve gone out to dinner and dancing and drinking any number of times, and now usually Kendra hosts and we go to Jordano or make dinner ourselves. This year, Kendra cooked out of her new Rachael Ray cookbook, and the rest of us provided the side dishes. So I now present to you a rundown of our evening – in numbers.

Number of the A-List members present and accounted for -- 4

The Food and Drink Part:
Number of bottles of red wine consumed – 2 (and one was the biggie sized kind)

Number of bottles of white wine consumed – 1 (I did that all by myself!)

Number of “appetizers” that were a throwback to our high school days – 3 (sun chips, cheese dip and twizzlers – YUM!!!)

Number of times we said “I’m SO FULL” and then kept eating – 250

Number of delicious ingredients that comprised Kendra’s culinary masterpiece – 7

The Inside Jokes Part:
Number of references to one time when things between Becki and I got “wheird” – at least 5

Number of references to “Wayne’s World” – 85

Number of references to parties of debauchery at Karen’s parents’ house – 25

Number of times we said things to each other that no outsider would be able to understand – 946

The Music Part:
Number of songs on the “A-List Greatest Hits 1993-1999” compilation cd so awesomely put together by Becki and Beth -- 19

Number of times we listened to it all the way through that evening – 2

Number of times Becki and I stopped in the middle of a conversation to say our favorite parts from “Slam” by Onyx, much to the annoyance of Kendra and Karen – 12

Number of times Becki and I performed a dramatic interpretation of Air Supply’s “Making Love out of Nothing at All” – 3

Number of times we did the above while Karen recorded it on her new camcorder – 1

Number of times you will see that – 0

The Evening Outing Part:
Number of miles we drove to go to a VERY SPECIAL store for our semi-annual visit – 5

Number of items purchased there – 5

Number of times the lady working at Walgreens told us we should get a life since it was Friday night and we were at Walgreens – at least 3

Number of times we thought to ourselves “We need lives? You work at Walgreens.” – at least 3 (especially after she told us the story of her last DUI. Super. Please just ring up our ice cream.)

The Helmet Voice Part:
Number of minutes in which I broke out the patented “helmet voice” – about 10

Number of people we made fun of during that time – 2

Number of minutes we spent laughing hysterically about what I said – at least 20

Number of chances that we’re not going straight to hell because of that – 0

Number of us who would say it was totally worth it – 4

And that, my friends, ends the post that no one will think is nearly as funny as we do. Because sometimes? You totally have to be there. And in this case, you would have totally had to be there for the past 16 or so years. You might say that this post? Is for Members Only.