I Look Like A Drag Queen

I wrote a guest blog for Christina in Wonderland today. So if you want to read my real post for the day you're going to have to do it there, and while you're at it you should start reading her stuff. She's seriously funny and cool.

But just so there's something for you guys to look at on my blog, I've got a video for you. Remember when I posted the literal version of Total Eclipse of the Heart? Well, you can find all kinds of literal versions of songs. So today I'm going to share the literal version of Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar with you.

Convicts, Cell Phones & Pacman Boxers

The scanners, well one in particular, have been overly talkative tonight. And you know what I wish? That the dispatchers/drivers/police/whatever would stop calling ambulances engines. That way I don't waste my time trying to figure out what's on fire where. I already told you guys about how part of my job entails listening to the screeching of various channels on scanners strategically placed around the newsroom, but I may not have told you that I really only listen for a few key words/phrases.

Take for instance last Friday around 3:00 a.m. Someone called from the Walmart on the northside of town to report disruptive customers. (First of all, people who go to Walmart at three in the morning are usually under the influence of something. However, that wasn't the case with this story.) That in and of itself wasn't very interesting. I mean, I'm not going to call and wake someone up over likely drunken Walmart customers. But then the little dispatch lady comes over the screecher: Be advised, suspects are wearing orange jumpsuits. That immediately got my attention. Apparently, some convicts had managed to escape from the jail in downtown, which is a good 15 minute drive from the Walmart in question, and were wreaking havoc.

So, I was looking for pictures of convicts in orange jumpsuits and didn't come up with any good results, but my search did turn up two pretty cool Halloween costumes. I'm not sure which one I like the best. This one:

Or this one:

Speaking of convicts, I ran across a simply hilarious story on the Associated Press wire this morning. My anchor and I laughed about this for a good few minutes, and there was even a small conversation about hiding things up your rectum.

In north Georgia, a prison inmate is being charged additionally for hiding a cell phone in his boxers. See, what had happened was this guy had a cell phone illegally. The jailers ordered a strip search. So he took off his boxers and took up a quote-unquote fighting stance and resisted all attemps of subdual.

I was looking for pictures of boxer shorts, hoping to find some of those classic white ones with big red hearts, when I came across these pacman ones. Which I thought were perfect for this story because Pacman and the little ghost-things consume things. Can you imagine the jokes/puns/etc. if the inmate had been wearing these? I can.

And speaking of Pacman, how many of you guys know the little ghost-things names? The red one is named Blinky. The pink one is Pinky. The blue one is Inky. And the orange one is Clyde/Sue. Where in the world did they get Clyde/Sue? Wikipedia tells me that in the original version of the game, the orange one is the stupid one. Maybe that's why it's name doesn't rhyme with the others.

Just Another Manic Monday

Cyanide and Happiness is not only funny, but - quite by accident I'm sure - relevant to a controversial issue that's been plaguing this state for the past few years. Electronic bingo and all its glory. I'm sure I've mentioned Country Crossing in various posts, probably just to complain about how I'm tired of hearing about it and tired of reporting it and tired of entire newscasts revolving around Country Crossing and/or electronic bingo. But that's a rant for another day. Mainly because I'm exhausted to the point that I'm on the verge of physical pain.

What that boils down to is the fact that the comic at the top of your screen is the most substantial piece of information in this post, and it's not even that important. But I did kind of try to find something to write about. Sure, it was during the time I was complaining about having to post stories so it was counterproductive but it's whatever, right? I mean, it's Monday.

Hey, look! I found something else of substance! This post isn't a total waste!

I promise I'll be back tomorrow with something of substance. Oh, and don't forget to look out for my guest blogging appearance over at Christina in Wonderland on Wednesday.

Peace Out.

Pointlessness at its Finest

I interupt your regularly scheduled lives for a pointless post.

I've been sitting at my desk for the past 20 minutes trying to come up with something to write about, but nothing I've seen or heard has inspired me at all. There's nothing interesting on the wire, Yahoo has let me down, and I can't think of any cool videos to share with you and I'm too cool to look any up. I blame my lack of topic ideas on the fact that Wednesday morning's shenanigans caused me to not post any stories to the web, which got me out of the habit for the week so I forgot about it yesterday, which meant I had to waste half an hour or so finding nine random stories to copy and paste and find pictures for and come up with headlines.

When I got to work last night, everyone was still here. March Madness, ftw! I'm not a big basketball fan. In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've willingly watched a game on t.v., although surprisingly I know that Syracuse busted up a lot of people's brackets. But it was pretty cool to have people here for the first couple hours of my shift. Usually I'm up here all by myself for four hours. Once it got to be about 2 a.m. I was ready for it to be just me again though. My eyes were starting to droop and I was having a hard time focusing on my scripts. In other words, it was time for my 30 minute nap.

In other news, I'm going to the drive-in tonight and I am super excited. I've never been to a drive-in movie and I have high expectations. Too bad my convertible isn't in driving condition (i.e. not running) 'cause that would totally be the perfect way to do this.

I was going to post the scene from Grease where Sandy runs out on Danny, but youtube has failed me. All I can find is cheesy school reproductions (my high school show choir did it) or random remakes.

And this concludes my pointless post. You can get back to your regularly scheduled lives now.

Feelin' Froggy?

Today's topic is a little different from what I've been doing lately, so I'll apologize now for the lack of what Christina calls "slutty mcslut slut" material. Anyway, yesterday was a crazy day behind the scenes. I worked all night trying to make sure the second hour of my show would go off without a hitch only to have it fall apart anyway. It would take a lot of typing to adequately explain the circumstances surrounding the events of yesterday, so you're just going to have to be satisfied with those bare details and the knowledge that I had absolutely no spare time to write a post.

We always end the shows with a feel-good story. That way our viewers don't go off to the rest of their day all depressed over the depressing news that fills the rest of the newscast. Because, let's face it, most news is bad news. And to be honest, if it was any other way, no one would watch.

So I was looking for a kicker and came across this interestingly weird story about toads (Yes, I know. Misleading title. My bad.). Apparently it's mating season for them, and up in Pennsylvania they're getting squished by the thousands as they try to hop across roads to get to their mating grounds. Courtship is a dangerous game. So this woman, I forget her name, formed a group to help these amphibians survive the mating season. Basically what they do is set up Toad Detours and block off roads so these slimy little hippity hops can cross like kids trying to go to school.

Comparing toads to schoolkids draws up this image of toad-like people crossing the street in a crosswalk. I imagine them to kind of look like this:

It's a bunch of Toads! I love Super Mario Bros. Wouldn't it be awesome if instead of nasty, slimy toads being helped across streets to procreate, there were lots of these guys being waved through crosswalks to Toad schools?

Reality Buzz

I'm not really a big fan of reality television. For the most part I think it's television at its dumbest. It's all scripted drama and fake alliances that lead to nowhere other than a ring of torches and a hasty good-bye. Contests like Survivor and The Batchelor hold no appeal for me whatsoever.

But when it comes to Dancing With The Stars, I'm glued to the TV. I absolutely love this show, and it's not for any of the reality-television aspects. I like to watch the dancing. It's real dancing. Not "chest pops and booty dips" as Pussy Cat Dolls singer Nichole said on last night's premier.

This year's cast is pretty awesome. They've got Pam Anderson (who doesn't love her?) and Buzz freakin' Aldrin, which in my opinion is totally cool. He's an American hero. He walked on the moon and was a fighter pilot in the Korean War. Plus, he's 80-something years old!

I've always thought I wanted to learn how to ballroom dance, if only for the purpose of being able to waltz my way through the first dance of my wedding one day. Too bad this show is celebrity-based, although Kate Gosselin is basically a normal person. I imagine her performance last night is what I would look like... after a few weeks.

That being said, there are two guys that I would absolutely die to have as a partner.

Derrick Hough

He's a choreographic genius. Plus, he's hot. And funny. And I don't think anyone knows what to do with him. Here's my favorite dance EVER:

This is my other dance partner choice:

Louis Van Amstel

Last season he was partnered with Kelly Osbourne. They were my favorite couple. Here's their first dance.

I missed his dance last night, which makes me sad. I really like Louis. He's awesome and I would marry him. Seriously.

You know how people trash-talk the judges on American Idol? Totally not the case with these guys. I love these judges. They're quirky and honest and you always know what they want.

Len, the "hear no evil", is the traditional judge. If you do anything that's remotely modern, you can count on a verbal lashing in his lovely British accent. He's actually a really good ballroom dancer, which if you watch the season all the way through you'll get to see when he imparts some of his finesse to one of the final three.

Carrie Ann, the "speak no evil" judge, is kinda like what Paula Abdul was on Idol. Only her criticism is actually useful. And she sees everything. Missteps, dropped turns, you name it.

Bruno, the "see no evil" judge, is my favorite. He's so flamingly flambloyant. And if Len makes him mad, he'll up his score just for spite. But he's so excitable. You never know what he's going to do - jump up on the desk, chest pumps or booty dips. He's great.

So basically what I'm saying is, I'm addicted to this show. I actually schedule things around this one. And I think you should, too. It comes on Monday nights on ABC at 8:00 EST.

E: Police Scanner News

Sorry, guys. No strippers or sexy halloween costumes today.

You know how back in the old days people used to sit around their radios the way we sit around our TVs? Well, part of my overnight production job is listening to the police scanners all night long. (I just had that scene from The Water Boy flash through my mind...) You're right. It's not like listening to a radio and it's definitely not like watching TV, but you'd be surprised at some of the things I hear in the wee hours of the morning.

Take this morning for instance. The dispatcher comes over the scanner talking about a string of car thefts that have taken place within the past couple of hours. A woman called in a tip, saying she had witnessed a man breaking into a car. I didn't hear the actual tip, but I did get to hear the dispatch lady explain it to the police people and this is what I imagined as I listened:

Caller: Man has gun.

Dispatch Lady: Are you sure, ma'am?

Caller: Man has gun.

Dispatch Lady: Your call = evidence = recorded.

Caller: Man no have gun.

I'm sure the actual transaction wasn't quite this ape-like, but hey. I'm up here by myself all night. Imagining that woman with the mentality of an ape passed a good five minutes for me. But wait! The story continues...

So now the police are scouring the city looking for this car thief, right? Well apparently he's a quick a little bugger 'cause from all the different locations they were radioing to each other they were hitting all four corners of town. Then the dispatch lady's voice crackles back out at us:

Dispatch Lady: We've gotten several complaints of a man jumping out in front of traffic.

My attention is instantly glued to the scanner.

Police Man: Can I get a description of the suspect?

Dispatch Lady: He's possibly wearing a red sweatshirt and has a black backpack.

So now all the police people are radioing each other about this idiot who's playing in traffic and the search begins anew. Now I'm not sure if the Frogger wannabe was the same person as the car burglar, but I imagine him to be. It's funnier that way. Whatever. So the police are scouring the city for this guy in his red sweatshirt, and again by the different locations they're relaying to each other they're covering pretty much every corner of town, but to no avail.

The red sweatshirt wearing, black backpack carrying car dodger is still on the loose, as is the car burglar. And I have no idea what happened to the ape-like tipper who reported the thief may or may not have been armed. Hopefully she stumbled on home and went to bed.

This is what Frogger man makes me think, btw. I'd like to know his purpose for playing in traffic. I mean, I'm sure he's just under the influence of something. I'd like to know what. So I can avoid it.

And now I'm going to retract my very first statement and show you this:

A sexy Halloween costume complete with stripper boots. I totally just rocked two birds with one stone. You know you like that pun. Anyway, I think I could pull this one off too. I already have the hat and fishnets...

Peep Show

You guessed it! Today's post is about strippers.

Okay, I know this doesn't seem like a typical topic of choice for me. Let me explain how it came about. I was looking at CBS's news planner for today and they referenced a package about a stripper union in Washington state. I was curious so I looked it up.

Here's the deal. First, I totally own that pair of panties. Second, a stripper in Washington state is trying to create a "dancer's" union to insure job security. She was fired from the strip club she worked at when she filed a lawsuit because she realized she was supposed to be getting paid. Basically, she was going to work and taking off her clothes solely for tips. What's more is the strip club would charge her if she missed a shift or came in late.

And she's just now realizing that this is wrong. Wow. I'm honestly dumbfounded at the stupidity of this situation. Do I believe she has the right to sue her former employer? Yes. But I also believe she's an idiot for not realizing she should be paid. How does that happen? I mean, really.

Peep shows should always come at a price. Not that I would pay to see a stripper, male or otherwise. In all honesty, I find male strippers to be creepy. I can't really explain it, but there's just something wrong about this:

I think I'd rather watch the bunny peeps. At least I could eat them at the end of the show.

Detective-ing

You know how I always complain about having to post stories to the web? Well, even though I still extremely dislike having to do it, today's topic can actually be accreditted to that mindless task. You see, normally I just click on the "National Summaries" folder, find the "Right Now" entry that has six to seven different stories, start at the top and post all of those until I meet my weekly quota. Well today, for whatever reason, I deviated from my usual pattern of mindlessness and clicked on the "State News" folder instead. While I was scanning the headlines, not expecting to see anything of interest, one caught my eye.

Newlywed Murder Plot

I had to click on it. It was just jumping off the page at me. So I clicked, and what I read was disturbing but not for the reasons you're probably imagining.

In August of last year, a 27-year-old woman from Boynton Beach, Fla., was charged with solicitation to commit first-degree murder. According to the police, she paid an undercover detective $1200 to buy a gun and act as a hitman. She gave him pictures of her husband as well as his daily schedule and offered to create an alibi for herself. They'd only been married for six months.

Okay, so she's on trial for this right? Well, that's not what the story was about. This woman's husband wants a divorce. Go figure. So he files for divorce, butttt a judge granted a stay because the evidence-gathering process was interfering with the murder-for-hire case against his wife.

Really? She paid a detective to kill her husband! What more evidence do they need to grant the man a divorce?!

And before you ask, no. I don't know why she wanted to kill him. I could probably find out, but I'm lazy and don't feel like putting in the time to research this case. Instead, I looked for detective pictures on google. Which led me to this:

I think I could pull this off for next Halloween, don't you? Except, you know, without the big bustiness exploding from the neckline 'cause I'm not that blessed. But still, I think this is a pretty sweet costume.

“Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he's in love with her.”
~Agatha Christie

Kiss Me, I'm Irish

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I'm totally not wearing green right now. Guess it's a good thing my day is ending in a few hours. Three to be exact. You see, what had happened was... when I got dressed it was early Tuesday afternoon. So the majority of my awake-time was yesterday. When I wake up this afternoon and get dressed, I will put on something green.

I'm anticipating a pinch from someone downstairs, possibly Oscar. He's my weatherman this morning. He was the morning meteorologist when I first started and he's filling in the rest of the week for my weather girl. It just seems like he would be the one to do it...

Other than St. Patrick's Day, I don't have anything to talk about so I've decided to share a video with you. It's one of my absolute favorites of all time. You should seriously check out this guy's stuff. He's hilarious. This is the first video of his that I ever watched - Lars the Emo Kid. Enjoy!

Dating 101

So I was thinking about first dates the other day, and realized that while in truth I haven't had all that many, what transpires is a good indicator of the relationship to come. If there is one. 'Cause let's face it, some first dates don't lead anywhere - not first base, not a second date, and certainly not a relationship. To illustrate my point, we're going to take a walk down dating memory lane as I share some of my not-so-romantic first date experiences.

A lot of people choose to go to dinner and a movie for their first date with someone. I guess they reason that it's a laid-back atmosphere where both parties will relax enough so they can get to know each other without awkwardness. First of all, it's impossible to get to know someone while you're sitting in a dark movie theater watching the latest cinematic wonder. Unless of course you're one of those annoying movie-goers who talks through the whole film, but that's a story for another day (maybe). With that being said, the majority of my first dates have been to, guess where, the movies.

My very first first date was to see what turned out to be a very ironic movie - How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Our relationship didn't even make it to date #2. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This guy worked with me and was constantly asking me to do stuff like go to parties with him or to let him take me out sometime. I always had other stuff going on so I didn't just flat-out turn him down every time, although I have to admit I was never attracted to him and the only real reason I finally accepted was because my mom prodded me into it. This guy, bless his heart, made me feel so awkward. I don't know if it was because he stared at me in such an uncomfortable way, but it was the most awkward I've ever felt on a date. I mean, if you picture the epitome of an awkward first date, that was it.

Want to know the worst first date movie I've ever seen? Click. First of all, I'm not a big Adam Sandler fan. There's only so many times you can make fun of his egg-shaped head and it be funny, but that's besides the point because this movie actually doesn't do that. What it does do, though, is depress you by the time it's over. The climax is - spoiler alert - Sandler's character dying. But, back to the date, because there's much more than the poor movie choice to talk about. I should have known better than to agree to go out with someone who asked me out on Myspace, but I knew him from school and thought "what the heck, it might be fun." The ride back was the highlight of the first date. I don't remember the conversation exactly, but I can tell you it involved him asking what I would do if he drove off into a ditch and wrecked. I guess that was a good indicator that our relationship would crash and burn after three months.

Ok, so it wasn't 20 minutes in, but I did have an experience similar to the one above. And by the way, I totally just noticed that the cartoon girl has red hair. Bonus!

This was another guy I worked with (these experiences are why I refuse to date coworkers). I don't really remember what we did for our first date. I recall seeing Transformers early on in our month-long summer fling but I can't say for sure it was date #1. He was another case of being talked into agreeing to a date by my mother. And I'll admit that we had fun once we got past the first date. The date itself isn't what's significant though; it's what happened afterwards. He dropped me off at home and then went and got drunk with his buddies, which of course led to a drunken phone call in which he professed his undying love for me. That should have set off red-flag warnings to his stalker tendencies. After we broke up, he took to driving by my house repeatedly and even followed me back to school. (this doesn't really compare to my actual stalker, who i never dated, but we won't go there)

Then there was the relationship where there wasn't a first date. We went out a couple of times in the course of our relationship, but I classify a first date as one that happens to start a relationship. The lack of first date should have warned me about this loser. After we parted ways, he started telling people we weren't ever really together. He just let me think that to suit his purposes.

My last first date was not to see a movie. We went to dinner at a place with a very relaxed atmosphere. He broke the ice by making me laugh, which sealed the deal right away. We talked and got a feel for each other's personalities and really just clicked. If you picture a perfect first date, that would be it. And I truly hope it's a sign of things to come.

Neighbors: They're Great

In the past five years, I've had the privilege of experiencing many neighbors. And when I say many, I mean that as in I've lived in places where I had many neighbors and I've had many neighbors over the years. That seems confusing. Let me explain.

When I was a college freshman, I lived in a community dorm in what amounted to being one step above the ghetto. Now I've heard some horror stories about community-style dorm life, but I honestly didn't have a bad experience - apart from the mold, old furniture, and not being able to control our own thermostats. Gardner is where I met my three best friends, and I know I wouldn't know as many people as I do or have gotten involved in the things I did if not for that little closet-like living space.

So I spent a year living on the third floor of Gardner Hall. Stephanie and I got lucky. We didn't technically have neighbors. Our room was conveniently located between the stairwell and the bathroom. Living on the top floor was great though, once you actually got all of your stuff lugged up three flights of stairs (no elevator). We had some pretty unique neighbors, most of which I still consider friends.

Directly across the hall from us were two sorority girls. Their room literally glowed pink. One was a cheerleader, but it was the other one who would run up one set of stairs and down the other every night. Thinking about that still makes me feel like a lazy, out-of-shape bum.

Our neighbor across the hall one room to the right is still a close friend. My first memory of her involves my roommate screaming bloody murder because a roach (she's deathly afraid of all bugs) crawled across the floor. Her screaming attracted Haley's attention so she came to see what was going on. She ended up killing the roach for Steph, and she was a part of my college life from then on out.

My two other best friends lived on the second floor. I met Alisha through a class and Julianne through Alisha's former roommate, Morgan (who was in our little group for two years). We weren't very well-behaved our freshman year, but magically we always managed to go to class and keep our grades up.

We did something every night of the week.

Mondays Suck Parties

Tuesday - Charlie Mops Day & Midnight Cereal Club

Wednesday - Campus Movie Nights

Thursday - Party Night

Friday - Party (usually)

Saturday - Smaller Party/Gathering

Sunday - Recovery

We played twister in the third-floor washroom on regular occasions (got kicked out one night so we went and played on the quad), got in trouble for climbing the trees on the tailgating quad, and through it all forged an unbreakable bond of friendship.

November 2009

My sophomore year, Stephanie and I lived in a suite-style dorm on the first floor of Cowarts Hall. This is where I learned that living on the bottom floor is a bad idea. That year we lived under elephants and shared a bathroom with pigs. At the risk of being way TMI, I'm going to share a really horrible neighbor experience from that year. Read at your own risk.

Stephanie and I had been out somewhere. When we got back to the room, we both had to go to the bathroom. Steph went first, and to this day I don't know how she did. When I walked into the bathroom and opened the door to the toilet the smell almost knocked me down. Apparently, one of our suitemates was either really sick or had partied a little too hard. Either way, they destroyed the bathroom. I'm talking projectile vomit, and bless her heart she tried to clean it up. But she used paper towels and threw them in the trash can and left them there. With the door closed. Now, the toilet room didn't have any ventilation so it was hot year-round. If you can imagine the smell I encountered, multiply it by 20. We threw the entire trash can away because we couldn't get close enough to the thing to empty it. We put it in a giant black trashbag, gagging the entire time, and then Stephanie (who is in possession of a Cuban's temper) threw the entire thing at their connecting door. I'm pretty sure they were in there.

My third and fourth year, Stephanie and I lived in an apartment-style dormitory on the edge of campus. We loved it for the most part - apartment living with the convenience of not having to fight for campus parking.

The first year we lived with the freshman girls' track team, and it wouldn't have been bad had they not been the epitome of the stereotypical freshman. Halloween of that year, Stephanie bought some decorations for our door. Well, our neighbors decided to steal them... while we were home (stupid freshmen). We heard them and opened the door. They ran. Now, Stephanie and I are at the point in our college careers where we don't play, so we followed them and banged on the door. I guess we scared them because they opened the door a fraction of an inch and shoved a bag with our decorations out.

We dealt with a herd of horses running up and down the hall and stairs (even though we had an elevator) and drunken debauchery in the courtyard directly below us. Once we even had a small band of hippies gather with their guitars.

Fall 2007

The summer of 2009 I moved in with my best friend, Julianne. We lived in a townhouse-style apartment right next to campus. We had some interesting neighbors. We shared a stoop with this guy who thought he was sexy or something. He would always open his door and be all like, "Hey" in a Ron Jeremy voice, every time we opened the door. Then there was the apartment on the corner where every weekend a group of guys gathered and just stood on the front stoop with their coolers and yelled at people who walked by. Sounds like fun, doesn't it? On the other side of us we had the drug dealing Hawaiian. He would stand on their balcony and whistle at us whenever we walked outside. Eventually they got raided by the S.W.A.T. team. Unfortunately, I had already moved back home.

Which is where I am now. Living with my parents. We have a corner lot so we're actually pretty lucky. Except for our vampire neighbors and our wannabe rockstar neighbor-across-the-street.

Our neighbor across the street plays drums. All the time. Very loudly. I sleep during the day. I usually have earplugs so daytime noises don't bother me. Well, whenever he gets a hankerin' to beat down, I can hear his music and understand the lyrics to the songs he's playing along with through my earplugs.

And then there's our adjacent neighbors who my dad swears are vampires. They don't do anything domestic during normal hours. They roll the trash out at midnight. Slam car doors at 3 a.m. Set off the car alarm before the sun rises in the morning. Not to mention the fact that one of the kids is a heathen. Seriously. I was taking a shower the other day when all of a sudden I hear this loud BANG!! My mom hears it from the front of the house and thinks I've killed myself. So she comes running back to the bathroom to ask if I'm okay. Then we hear it again, so she raises the blinds on the bathroom window to see the neighbors' little boy quickly trying to crawl out from under the fence surrounding our air conditioning unit... which he's been jumping on. And he randomly stands in the driveway screaming. For no reason.

Neighbors. Can't get away from them.

Freaky Friday

This is what today feels like:

 

Only not in an entertaining way. Somehow, I managed to get almost an hour behind. I don't know how it happened. I didn't do anything any differently than I normally do, but I got a horrible jolt (like my heart had just fallen, not to my stomach, but to my feet) when I looked at the time expecting to see 2:00 a.m. and see 3:00 a.m. instead. Somehow I lost an entire hour of the night. Did I black out? How do I know if I blacked out? It's not like I can remember it. But, luckily, being the professional that I am, I still got all my daily duties finished by 4:00 a.m. Oh, and guess what?! The last Wednesday of this month I will be writing a guest blog for Christina in Wonderland about a day in the life of an overnight producer. So look for the link to that on March 31!

 

Anyway, I've been given an award - twice. Once by Christina and once by Gnetch. So I guess that means I should probably actually participate to some degree. And since I didn't have time to develop what I really wanted to talk about today thanks to my missing hour, I've got the perfect excuse.

 

I've been bequeathed the Happy 101 award.

 

Here are the rules:

1. Thank the person/people who gave it to you.

2. List the things that make you happy.

3. Tag people.

 

Well, I've already told you who gave me the awards, so to Christina and Gnetch THANK YOU. I really do enjoy reading what you guys write.

 

Things That Make Me Happy

 

• Mountain Dew
• My pineapple-scented post-it notes
  (although I just tried to smell them and they don't really smell like Costa Rica anymore)
• Crossing things off my to-do list
  (it really is one of life's greatest joys)
• Getting a "Good/Clean Shows" discrepancy report
• Blogs
• Big sunglasses
• Falling asleep in Chris's arms
  (i'm allowed to be mushy sometimes)
• Food
• Giraffes
  (even though they're gay)
• Laughing
• My wonderful friends

And the list could go on and on 'cause I'm generally a happy person. The littlest of things that other people wouldn't even blink at make me smile. I think we all rely on other people or things to determine our happiness, though. We have control over our happiness. Don't believe me? Click HERE.

 

Oh, and I'm not tagging people. 'Cause I gotta post stories to the web. Grr.

UPDATE:

Well, I posted to the web, then had a crisis with the rundown. And was actually pretty terrified there wouldn't be a show this morning. Plus, for whatever reason blogger wouldn't let me post the first time around so I had to copy, paste and reformat my entire post. So leave me comments to help me believe it was worth all that.

Bargain Thursday

So I was shopping for curlers yesterday morning because I've been battling flat hair here lately and it's driving me absolutely nuts. It's not that I want to have oh-my-god-80s big hair. I just want some volume, ya know?

Anyway, while I was deciding which curlers I wanted, I noticed one of those bargain bin things where everything was marked 75% off. So after I finally chose some curlers, I started digging through the bin just to see what was in there 'cause you never know. In one section of the bin there were these things that were labeled as compact mirrors and I thought, "Hey! I need one of those. My car ate my other one!" So I look through there and see a purple one, decide that I like purple and can afford to splurge for something that costs less than $1.

I check out and run through the rain back out to my car where I promptly pull the mirror out of my bag so I can put it in my purse. When I get it out, I decide what the heck, I might as well see what my makeup looks like. And that's when I discover that I got a really good deal!

Not only did I get a compact mirror, but it also has a brush built in. Yay for splurging!

Guilt-less Guilty Pleasure

**I interupt the pointlessness that follows (before it even starts) for a short rant on real-life-celebrity drama.

I know we all don't really care about Lindsay Lohan. Sure, she was all cute and stuff when she did The Parent Trap and she appealed to all, quote unquote, normal girls with her role in Mean Girls, and I admit that I liked her in Freaky Friday although perhaps that's because I liked the book in elementary school. Whatever. She's not very likable now. I mean, she lost my respect and fan-ship when she started looking like a skeleton and dying her hair, not to mention all the drug and alcohol induced pity partying she did.

Well, now it has come to my attention that she has a rather inflated image of herself. Remember the E*Trade commercial that aired during the Super Bowl where the baby is talking to a girl baby on his computer and she asks if he's with that "milkaholic Lindsay"? Apparently, according to Ms. All-That Lohan, E*Trade was taking a swing at her because she's like Oprah. No, really, that's what her rep said - that she's like Oprah in that she's one-name recognizable... I must've missed that somewhere along the way. Anyway, now Lindsay is suing E*Trade and demanding that they stop airing that particular commercial.

I think she took her role in Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen too much to heart 'cause oh-em-gee this is dumb.

Now back to your regularly-scheduled blog.***

I love Cyanide and Happiness. They brighten my day. They're kinda like a guilty pleasure, only I don't have any feelings of guiltiness associated with the pleasure I get from spending precious time browsing their comics (instead of posting stories to the web).

That's the thing about guilty pleasures. I honestly don't experience guilt when I get pleasure from activities (I use this term loosely) that others would go to great lengths to keep hidden away from the rest of the world. I have many guilty pleasures, I guess, if only because of the definition other people assign those two words when they appear side-by-side in a sentence. Maybe I should feel shame that I derive pleasure from some of the things I do. Maybe I should care that other people are embarrassed for me. But maybe, just maybe, I should be grateful that I find pleasure in something.

So now we come to the point of today's blog. Actually, I've already made my point. All without providing you with any content save a comic strip that doesn't really have anything to do with anything at all. So now, on to the content, meager though it will be.

It's confession time. My biggest guilty pleasure currently, although I'm not really all that guilty over it, would have to be the Jonas Brothers' t.v. show that comes on Disney Channel. Most people my age would shudder to admit this. I mean, after all, they are what I like to call a teenie-bopper phenomenon. But have you seen the show? It's freakin' hilarious. I'm serious. It makes fun of their fans hardcore. They're all the time getting into these ridiculous situations because they're neverending screaming fans create chaotic situations out of the most ordinary tasks.

Each brother has a different persona to play in the show: Joe is the cool, good-looking ladies' man; Kevin is the goofy but cute dumb one; and Nick is the boy genius. They have their own fashionista who, at the tender age of 17, has custom-designed a wardrobe system that specifically matches each Jonas' preferences. She and Joe end up together at some point (duh). And then there's the president of their fan club who always manages to injure one of them whenever she's around.

It's so silly it borders on being slap-stick comedy. I absolutely love to let this 30 minutes of pure stupidity melt my brain cells. And I'm honestly not ashamed to admit it. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to recommend it to anyone who needs a good laugh. Even if that means you end up laughing at me for getting pleasure out of something so juvenile.

Oh, Happy Day!

happiness: [hap-ee-nis] the quality or state of being happy

**side note:: if a Spanish-speaking person looked at the dictionary pronunciation of happyness, it would sound like this -- oppy-niece**

So, I was killing time after I finished the dreaded task of posting stories to the web. Seriously guys, that is the absolute worst part of my entire day, but I won't go into details on that right now. However, if you'd like to know more check out Bicycle DUI.

Anyway, I had just posted three seemingly random stories to our website and was aimlessly looking through the top stories on Yahoo. I love Yahoo. You can find some of the most random stuff there. It's great. That's where I found some tips for how to have happier days, which out of the blue reminded me of the "Happy Days" sitcom from way back when.



Now that that's out of my system, the tips!

Too much of a good thing is a bad thing.
Sure, it's good to help others, but when helping others comes at the expense of not taking any time for yourself an incredibly good thing ceases to be good. So, don't stop helping others. Just remember to pencil in a little you-time in your busy schedule.

Now is the moment. Enjoy it!
In other words, take time to smell the roses. Rushing to and fro leaves little time for fun.

Find your "mouse hole."
Basically, no matter how big of a social butterfly you are, we all need some time and space that just ours. It makes us feel a lot more secure about ourselves, which in turn makes us happier. It doesn't even have to be a specific place - it can be a solo activity like jogging (totally not my thing).

Conflict is OK.
I'll be the first to admit that I don't like confrontation, but at the same time if I'm at odds with someone for some reason or other I can't just let it ride. It's not healthy for one. And it always makes you feel better once you get something resolved.
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Now those all seem like common sense, right? That's probably why they're so easy for everyone to overlook in daily life.

Want to know what makes me happy these days? The return of Whit Johnson to the morning show. Mmm. He's so nice to look at.

Stink Be Gone

I heard about this product on the radio one day last week and decided to check it out. So I went to their website and this is what greeted me:

Poo-Pourri

Such a simple layout for a website (I wish other websites would follow their example!). I especially love where they set up a "picture this" scenario. Classic.

Anyway, strange as this is going to sound, I really like the setup of the ad. Even if it is a little odd that the model looks positively joyous to having to or just having done a poo.

And here's something for you to ponder. You know how people will derogatorily say, "So-and-so thinks her poo (or some profane version of your choice) doesn't stink." Maybe it doesn't. Maybe he/she has discovered the joys of poo-pourri.

Driving 101

Let's face it, people do some crazy things on the road. Which isn't to exclude myself, although I happen to be of the belief that I'm a fairly safe driver. I drive the speed limit (or slightly over), wear my seat belt and force all who ride with me to do so, use my blinkers, and most importantly stay on my side of the road. Here lately on my drives to and from work I've had some pretty scary, frustrating and downright annoying experiences with my fellow commuters. Which is what prompted me to make the following list.

Top 10 Most Annoying Driving Habits Ever

1. Ride on my bumper for 20 minutes, ignore passing opportunities including the convenient passing lane provided four miles back, finally pass in an unsafe place like a curve or hill, and then slow down slower than I was driving originally.

2. Ride in the fast lane, a.k.a. the passing lane, going 20 mph under the speed limit. Move your butt into the slow lane, grandma. This lane is meant for people who are in a hurry or at least going the speed limit. Geez.

3. Speed up & then slow back down. Unless you're driving a dinosaur, you should have cruise control. Use it.

4. Don't use your blinkers. This one really grinds my gears. I mean, really? How am I supposed to know that you're turning if you don't use your blinkers? Especially if you're one of those people who waits until the last minute to slow down for a turn. I'd prefer watching your blinker blink for half a mile than not see it at all. Are you asking for someone to hit you?

5. Pass people in the slow lane. Unless that person happens to be the grandma from #2, this is illegal. The slow lane isn't a passing lane.

6. Ride in the slow or fast lane directly in front or back of another car, effectively making it impossible for anyone to get around you. In other words, you're creating a cluster f*ck.

7. Slam on brakes.

8. Throw trash out of your car while you're riding in front of me. First of all, littering is a crime. Secondly, that's just rude. I don't want your trash hitting my car.

9. Just ride next to me on a four-lane. I don't want to just chill next to you. Either go on and pass me or slow down and get behind me. But if you pass me, don't slow down, and if you get behind me don't tailgate me. In other words, don't be an annoying driver.

10. At a red light or stop sign, stop so closely behind me I can't see your headlights. Or if you're a jacked-up truck, I can't see anything because your headlights have effectively blinded me. You should be far enough behind me to see my back tires connecting with the road. What if I'm driving a stick shift? I could roll into you. And I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want that.

Adventures with Giraffes

Giraffes are my favorite animal. Always have been. I don't really know why but I absolutely love them. I have a giraffe print purse, a giraffe print wallet, a giraffe print blanket, a stuffed giraffe named Tufty (you know, for the tufty things on its head), so on and so forth. I've always wanted to feed one but I'm always lucky enough to just miss feeding time at every zoo I've ever been to. This fact greatly saddens me. You guys just don't understand how awesome of an experience that would be for me. I would quite literally be giddy with excitement.

You see the things on its head? Those tuft-like horns? Well, those are the source of this little adventure. I mentioned last paragraph that I have a stuffed giraffe named Tufty. Well, I wanted to know what exactly those tufts I named him for were. So I was visiting my best friend in Troy and we decided to google it.

It's a pretty standard answer for the most part. They're horns. Females have tufts of hair on top of theirs, which means Tufty is in fact a girl (I haven't told her yet though), and males' horns are bald, which makes this guy here, well, a dude.

Giraffes mainly use their tufts for fighting. When they fight amongst themselves, they lock necks and attempt to stab each other in the eyes with their horns. When they fight other animals, they kick them. I guess they're too tall to really worry about trying to poke out their few enemies' eyes with their tufts.

Their tufts are also used for romantical purposes. And here is where my adventure really begins. Like when they fight amongst themselves, when giraffes are in a loving mood they entertwine their necks (I wonder if this is where the term necking comes from). After my friend and I pondered the term necking and awwed over the sweet gesture, we continued reading. What we learned was, to put it mildly, shocking.

I've never really questioned the reasons behind the excitement of a baby giraffe being born. I just always assumed it was the joy of nature and all that jazz. It turns out, however, that it's a rare occurrence, and I'll tell you why.

Male giraffes prefer the, er, company of other male giraffes.

My friend and I just sat in shocked silence staring at each other for awhile. Then we giggled embarrassedly for awhile. There was an exclamation from me of "Oh my God, I like a gay animal!" And then there was a question...

So does this mean you can't choose to be gay?

Weird Wednesday

I have a whole list of blog topics for days like today when there's nothing blog-worthy in the news, but today I just don't have the motivation to actually think about any of them. So instead, I decided that today could be Weird Wednesday. And here for your viewing pleasure is what I consider to be a disturbing video of melting chocolate bunnies. I mean, we're kinda close to Easter right? I figured it would be appropriate.

I think the music is what makes it so bad...

So here's a death metal version.

And this video led me to this one...

This one wasn't really disturbing. It was just...odd. But I couldn't look away. I like the music selection though.

Clouds in my Coffee

Since I didn't have anything else planned for today, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon and postulate on who the subject of Carly Simon's hit song "You're So Vain" really is.

I didn't come up with this topic of thought all on my own. I saw an article about how the mystery surrounding this song has indeed not been solved according to its writer on Yahoo. You can read it here.

Carly remade her original 1971 hit song for her latest album, which breathed new life into the rumor mill. When the song was originally released, speculations of who it was written for or about started flying. The most popular guesses, of course, have circled around Carly's ex-boyfriends. And don't worry, I've got pictures of the most popular guesses:

Warren Beatty

a.k.a. Dick Tracy

(he's by far my favorite)

Mick Jagger

(check out that mouth)

Cat Stevens

(he kinda reminds me of Charles Manson in the movie Helter Skelter)

Kris Kristofferson

(he's still ugly today)

Carly denies all of the above as the intended subject of her song. The newly released version of the song has rekindled the rumors though. The latest person to fall into the list of possible vanities? Music mogul, David Geffen.

Not much to look at, is he? But that's beside the point. Carly didn't even know this dude when she wrote the song. Want to know why everyone thinks it's him? Thought so. They played the record backwards and apparently some part of it says "David." Bloggers everywhere made the jump to Geffen because he owned a private jet back in 1971 (hint: the song talks about that). But again, they didn't know each other back then.

Carly says there are clues in the song's lyrics, but being as how I wasn't born when the song was written and I don't know her on a personal level that doesn't really mean anything. So here's my thoughts - I don't think it's about anyone in particular. I think it's about anyone and everyone who happened to think the song was about them. And you know all of the guys I just showed you, with the exception of Geffen, definitely thought the song was directed at them. So, mission accomplished? I think so.