She's Lump.

I'm starting to understand my 401K.

2009-08-10T11:55:00.002-05:00

Last Monday, I reached the nice ripe age of 29. Having that birthday sneak up on me completely constitutes my absence from the blog world. Well, I also needed time to decide what I was going to do for my early, early midlife crisis. So far, I have saved ten bucks for my new boobs fund.

A while back, I read somewhere that when a person turns 30, her metabolism decreases by 7 to 10 percent. That’s a good percent. So that got me thinking, as of now, I have 358 days to eat as many Twinkies as I want. However, I’m helping my metabolism by only eating the 100-calorie pack Twinkies. Unfortunately, it defeats the purpose when I eat six at a time.

I don’t have many plans for the last year of my 20s except to watch all the Harry Potter movies. I believe that’s a huge commitment in itself. Therefore, making any other kind of plans will probably get in the way.

If you need to reach me, I’ll be here with my Snuggie:

HOLY CRAP! Do I know you??!

2009-06-10T13:10:00.005-05:00

Wow. It’s been a minute since I did a little bloggin’. Therefore, perhaps I should get everyone up to speed on what has been going on in my fabulous life.

In the last two months I laughed, I cried, I drank my full share of beer (and liquor), I threw up, I ate, I slept, I quit my job, I found a new job, I spent money, I kicked some ass, I snapped photos, I danced, and now I’m here to show off my bangin’ body.

Some may be aware that I started the intense work out system P90X. No, I did not do this because I wanted to lose weight. For hell’s sake, that is the last thing I need to do. I actually thought that since I am growing older (GASP!), I should help prevent my ass from dropping too soon. Plus, my doctor said I required more cardio not in the likes of sex or walking up and down my condo’s stairs or lifting a beer. Oh my poor heart.

Anyway, this is what I looked like a few months ago. Too much sun in Maui HURTS.

And after a thousand hours of P90X and a thousand more protein bars, I am rock solid.

Ok whatever; maybe I didn’t execute P90X the right way. However, I found out that I am not scared of needles.

**dudes, this computer doesn't have photoshop. so, suck it.

I'll see you in possibly two days.

2009-03-23T12:53:00.007-05:00

I have elected to put a halt to my blogging literature.

I need a bit of time to reflect, to contemplate, to absorb, to meditate.
Not really. But I have some things I want to do.

Like drink more beer.

Think of it as my own Spring Break minus the body shots and wet t-shirt contests.
Well, I might reconsider the latter.

Sharing is loving.

2009-03-19T14:58:00.005-05:00

Chloe may be a selfish little shit when it comes to the blanket, but Chunk clearly has the upper hand.

This photo reminds me of all those times my brother and I warmly bonded – say around five or six years old. Especially that one time the brother thought it was HYSTERICAL to come dashing out of the bathroom in either his tighty whities or completely leafless just plopping his ass on me while I was enjoying an intense He-Man performance on TV.

“By the power of Greyskull, I have the power‼”

And yes, the brother did, mainly due to his air biscuits.

There apparently isn’t a No Asshole Rule.

2009-03-18T14:20:00.003-05:00

For a little over a week, I’ve been making a list of things I hear the many attorneys I work with say on the elevator ride up to my office. It’s not as if I’m eavesdropping because I am in an elevator after all, and it’s somewhat hard to have a conversation without someone taking note – and that someone is obviously ME.

These attorneys want to know everyone’s business as well as flaunt their own for the whole elevator audience to hear (OK, not all of them are like this). Or maybe they’re just fucking loud.

Loudly trying to ONE UP the other.

One uppers are assholes.

Yes, they like to brag how they have their secretaries send their files to them during their weekend trips to their beach houses in Florida or condos in NYC and Vegas. So, they can “work” diligently.

And they love to fire off why their opposing counsel is the bigger douchebag. I’m usually leaning against the elevator wall thinking how they sound like douchebags.

Some will talk about the brand new golf clubs they purchased over the weekend. But, sure enough, one recently purchased SOLID GOLD (plated!) golf clubs with his initials engraved into them. According to him, those BADASS golf clubs make you quite the Winner in the ladies’ eyes as well as make you play like a PRO.

Seriously? No wonder I have no golf game. (I’ve never even played golf before.)

Then there’s the few who bitch about their excruciating property taxes they have to pay.

“Last year, I paid $16,000 in property taxes.”

“Well, I had to pay $22,000. But I refinanced my house so I’m saving a few bucks in other areas.”

HOLY SHIT $16,000 to $22,000 in property taxes?! Where do these people dwell?? Needless to say, a light bulb activated and quickly I starting researching their names on the Dallas County Assessor site. Not surprisingly many are rocking the million dollar homes, while their kids’ trust funds are increasing by the hour. Their kids probably have solid gold golf clubs, too. And brand new BMWs.

Now let me bring you to today:

“I bought a new fully loaded Porsche 911 Carrera 4S last night, metallic black with dark gray leather interior. It is NIIIIIIICCCCE.”

“Oh yeah? A few weeks ago I purchased my first AIRPLANE.”

BOOYAH.

Control is what I’m supposed to have, but I almost lost it.

2009-03-16T12:09:00.004-05:00

Kung Fu class on Saturday was a decent workout, I do admit. It has to be because that’s the only day of the week I work out. Other days I walk my dogs to the mailbox and back and well, that’s plenty of exercise. However, the dog walking is on hold because I think here in the next couple of days my toes are going to turn black and rot off.

Anyway, some kid decides to forget his foot techniques in class while we’re kicking one another’s asses and he straight up lands his heel – all 150 pounds of him – right on my right toe. A hundred and fifty pounds on any person’s toe is going to hurt like hell.

Yes, OK, it was an accident. SO? But he opts to put the blame ON ME, stating my footwork was wrong. Um, say what?

There may be no fighting rules in Kung Fu San Soo, but we are taught to have self-control over what we do in class and of course NEVER use full force on anyone. Unless, you know, I’m walking to my car late at night by myself and I am attacked then you had better believe I‘d go ballistic, come at you sideways and start cutting an asshole.

Therefore, the kid shouldn’t have been using full force, especially in class.

I’m ok now. Thanks for asking. I went home, downed two margaritas on an empty stomach in less than 20 minutes and felt like a brand new person.

She’s so pretty:

I have to endure this kind of shit because I can’t afford a bodyguard.

I'm down on my knees... I want to take you there.

2009-03-11T17:24:00.007-05:00

In elementary school, I thought Madonna was the bees knees. I owned quite a few of her albums via cassette tape and often would jam out (can one really jam out to Madonna?) to them on my tiny boom box. I even owned a VHS tape full of her music videos. This was WAY before MTV came to my small town. It’s as the cable man was too fucking lazy to work and provide us the educational benefits of Madonna for free, but NO. I had to use my hard-earned allowance money and buy her damn music videos on my own.

I wanted to wear a bra SO BAD in elementary school. Thanks, Madonna.

Anyway, what kind of parents would let their sweet innocent (not yet corrupted) little 8-year-old girl listen, watch and imitate Madonna? Mine would, naturally. These are the same parents that let me watch the movie Dirty Dancing over and over again when I was in the second grade. I learned my dance moves from Baby and Johnnie. I also learned later that Robbie really didn’t pass on the “flu” to Penny. He actually passed on a lot more than that.

So, as a kid Madonna’s video Express Yourself was one of my favorites, of course. Especially the parts where she grabs her crotch (I know that scene like the back of my hand) and where she was crawling around a bed just totally EXPRESSING HERSELF in nothing but a white bed sheet wrapped around her naked body. I have that scene down, too.

My parents, I guess, didn’t mind if I expressed myself.

In the fourth grade, I told Mom that a friend and I wanted to dance in our elementary school’s talent competition to Madonna’s Like a Prayer. It was only logical to wear pointed cones on our flat chests, huge crosses around our necks and four-inch heels on our feet. Mom thought it wasn’t such a good idea at that point. I just knew we would have given the other students a run for their money. I’m still pissed these two boys I went to school with won for singing Milli Vanilli’s Blame it on the Rain. POSERS.

Growing up, another favorite video of mine was Open your Heart. I used to daydream that I was Madonna, the Stripper, and all the little boys at my school wanted to come see me dance, but they didn’t have enough money to keep the peep curtain open. Say What? Minors aren’t allowed in strip clubs? That’s not what Madonna says!

The other day Open your Heart came on the radio while I was driving to pick up a pizza or some burritos or beer and at that point, I really and truly listened to the complete lyrics of that song.

I had no idea it was about some lunatic obsessed woman STALKER. She just wanted the dude to love her and by god, she was going to make him love her because all he had to do was turn the key.

I see you on the street and you walk on by
I think you’re afraid to look in my eyes (of course, he is!)
You look a little sad boy, I wonder why
I follow you around but you can’t see (if he makes eye contact then that’s like acknowledging you)
You’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice
So you choose to look the other way
Well, I’ve got something to say
Don’t try to run I can keep up with you (There’s nowhere to hide, bitch.)
Nothing can stop me...

Hello? MANIA.

What's the secret ingredient?

2009-03-10T11:38:00.003-05:00

Lately, I really haven’t been in the mood to compose a grand masterpiece of random crap here on this grand masterpiece of a blog full of random crap. Yeah, I know.

Let me just say, things have been going down. Therefore, in other words, I’m busy with life.

One: Work is CRAZY BUSY. And everyone is a rollercoaster of emotions and it would be PRETTY RAD if the economy would stop sucking so much. Did you know that my Disney stock (yes, I have stock in Disney) has dropped around 70 PERCENT? So that’s like 15 bucks a share. Call me Richie Rich.

Two: My fingers are permanently crossed in hopes my job remains permanent because I actually do like my job even though I bitch about it, but that’s what I do: I bitch.

Three: Apparently, the older I get the more I black out from drinking.

Four: And when I black out, I’m well known for dancing with butch bare foot lesbians whom love rubbing my ass, which I have no recollection of whatsoever.

Five: I’ve made note never to forget to eat especially when the drinking starts at 5pm.

FAREWELL TO YOUTH.

Sometimes it’s not important to pay attention to the little things.

2009-03-04T11:48:00.004-06:00

I like details. So I would say I’m pretty detail oriented, but sometimes I think too many details come off as just a lousy excuse.

Like that person is trying to validate his excuse. Or perhaps that person feels really damn guilty about something and well, is flat out lying.

I don’t care what the reason is. I’m just tired of concentrated defenses.

For example, a coworker can’t come into work:

I’m not feeling so well. My throat hurts when I swallow, my body is sweating, and oh the migraines are unbearable. I took some medicine before bed, but then I couldn’t sleep so I didn’t sleep at all last night and now I’m so tired and achy. It feels like I’m going to throw up any minute now. Then my dog got sick on top of that. Also around midnight I discovered my son had a fever and he probably won’t be going to school today either. While all this was happening, my grandmother got sick too and she’s sneezing and coughing and having uncontrollable bowel movements. So I don't think I'll be able to concentrate at work today. If you need anything, just call me. I’ll be drinking hot tea and trying to sleep and hoping I won’t throw up my chicken soup I plan on eating for lunch later.

SOOOOOO what you’re really saying is YOU ARE SICK AND YOU CAN’T COME INTO WORK?

Another example would be if one had made plans with someone:

Hey, sorry I have to cancel our plans today, but I have to watch my sister’s kids. She was called into work for the day and well, I can’t say no to my sister. Plus, she really needs the money. She is a single mom after all and raising FIVE BILLION kids on her own, so she needs a helping hand. In other words, I’ll be tied up all day baby-sitting, cooking, changing diapers and cleaning her house while she is out busting her ass. It’s the least I could do. I won’t be free tomorrow either because my manicurist said if I don’t come in tomorrow then I’ll have to wait for pretty nails for THREE WHOLE WEEKS and I just can’t wait that long. Oh, she’s also on the other side of town where my son’s god-parents live and they’re having a BBQ, so I’m going to swing by there for a few also. Then I have to go grocery shopping and clean my place too and since today I’ll be watching my sister’s FIVE BILLION kids, tomorrow will be the only day I get to do laundry and vacuum. Anyway, hope you have a great day!

SOOOOOO what you’re really saying is YOU DON’T WANT TO HANG OUT?

Holy crap. I GET IT.

And if you receive those excuses in a text message, you end up getting approximately three thousand one hundred and forty eight text messages for ONE STATEMENT.

I have over 10 new applications to learn just for the hell of it.

2009-03-02T13:51:00.007-06:00

About a month ago, I got the Adobe Creative Suite 4 Master Collection for free and have now uploaded it. Do you have any idea what is all on this Master Collection? A bunch of shit that I probably will never use, but who cares, it was FREE. However, who knows I may dip my fingers into all the applications and before I know it I will become the Master of the Master Collection.

Anyway, I’m down for some Dreamweaver, Acrobat and Illustrator. And, of course, I LOVE my Photoshop. But now I have Photoshop CS4 EXTENDED.

So from this point on, I no longer look like this:
(Check me out! Chunk gets his modeling skills from me, yo.)

Because thanks to Photoshop, I NOW look like this on the internet:

I never will have to work out again! Oh, who are these Victoria's Secret models kidding anyway? They're probably photoshopped also.

Never start a fight, but always finish it…with a ton of carbs.

2009-02-25T14:35:00.008-06:00

First things first, I would like to cook a shitload of pasta and cakes and pies for Angelina Jolie.

Last night I watched the Changeling and holy hell Angelina is SUPER THIN in this movie. What happened to her?

Even though 75 percent of the time during this movie I cried like an ENORMOUS BABY, the other 25 percent all I could think about was finding where Angelina lives and ordering her a thousand large meat pizzas with cheese garlic bread.

I remember when Angelina looked like this:

Or better in the movie Hackers: um, HELLO?

But now, in the Changeling she looks like this:

and here:

One part of the movie a psych ward nurse is hosing down Mrs. Jolie-Pitt butt naked and as she twists and turns, I SCREAMED IN AGONY because her damn ribs and shoulder bones kept slicing my eyes and face.

At that point, I almost ate a whole box of Reese’s Peanut Butter cereal.

Anyway, I loved LOVED this movie. However, I love any movie based on a true story. And this is one horrific truth.

Women usually are well known for their emotions, but seriously, this movie played with my fucking emotions. I was on a roller coaster of anger, compassion, hate and the tears just kept flowing. To think of it, why would you do this to me CLINT EASTWOOD?!

You should see it though.

In other news, Chunk is much better looking than Angelina. HANDS DOWN. So, please vote for the biggest little shit. Thanks, friends.

Over 2000 kinds of cheese and not enough time!

2009-02-24T10:41:00.001-06:00

When I was a kid and I’d go visit my best friend, she knew exactly what kind of snack I wanted to eat. That snack was CHEESE. Usually, cheese and pickles, while she drank a gallon full of milk. Milk disgusts me unless it’s in my cereal then it can be kind of wonderful.

And have you ever had a cheese, mayo, and pickle sandwich? That shit is incredible. My mom made the perfect cheese and pickle sandwich. She would be rich if other people actually liked cheese and pickle sandwiches.

I think eating these sandwiches as a kid on a Saturday afternoon was either because A- it was all we had in the refrigerator or B- I like ghastly food combinations. Probably both.

But really, who doesn’t like cheese? Those commercials about how everything is better with cheese are a KNOWN FACT.

This past Sunday, we finally broke out our fondue machine. It’s been collecting dust for the past two years. We threw in a block of pepper jack cheese, block of extra sharp cheddar, block of mozzarella, some garlic, blue cheese crumbles, a little milk and a whole bottle of TEQUILA.

Well, it was more like a half bottle of tequila because we already guzzled down a few margaritas prior to our amazing fondue feast, which probably was a mistake.

I have never eaten so much cheese in my life. But being drunk and consuming four pounds of cheese has never tasted so good.

It’s now Tuesday and I still look pregnant.

Sun goddesses like sheetrock.

2009-02-19T12:45:00.007-06:00

My apartment before the one I am currently residing in had a huge patio. During the day, the sun would hit it just right and Chloe would beg, whine, and plead to go outside so she could get her tan on. She would bathe in the sun for hours. Not the hot 115-degree Texas sun because she would probably had a heat stroke and died. You know, English Bulldogs are incredibly receptive to heat strokes as well as cold chills. Damn dogs are freaks of nature. Therefore, I would only let her get her tan on when it was a nice 75 degrees outside, which is practically never.

During the blistering days, Chloe had to settle for staying inside. She would rest her head on the front room windowsill and watch the neighborhood dogs frolic in all the sun’s glory, while she immersed in self-pity. One could not help but feel sorry for her…. But only for a MINUTE. After 30 minutes of nonstop whining and scratching at the window, she was asking for a beating.

What part of if you get too hot - which she would because she absolutely has NO CONTROL – you will scorch into flames and die of a massive heat stroke? Dog never understood that NO meant NO.

However, she knew the exact time of day the sun would shine through the front room window. AWE THE SUN. She now had the whole room to sprawl across and get her tan on. Every time the sunlight moved, she’d move to that spot.

Unfortunately, there are buildings that shield my new place and the sun only hits certain parts of the walls. Leaving completely no sun for Chloe. Once again, she immerses in self-pity. Yet, she can find the smallest patch of sunlight – and I mean the SMALLEST like three inches by three inches – to stick her nose in and take a nap.

OK, yes, NOW that is pitiful.

I chose the wrong condo for my daughter. OH, PLEASE, GET OVER IT.

Anyway, the other day, Chloe is just chilling in the corner. She keeps rubbing her face against the wall where the sun is shining. And I’m thinking she’s just worshiping the sun like usual. But I thought wrong.

She was licking and chewing a hole in the damn wall!

Let’s see, that’s SIX holes now.

A man will never treat you as well as a store.

2009-02-17T11:44:00.006-06:00

Yes, I’m a girl and I like to shop. Who would have known?!. However, I’m a penny-pincher, meaning that shit had better be on sale like 80% off and it had better make my ass look awesome. I have other things to spend my money on, such as I don’t know, beer. OK, not really. I like to eat, too.

I do have a lot of clothes and shoes and boots and handbags and crap that I don’t need. But I do NOT have a debt that is over SIXTEEN THOUSAND bucks worth of designer shit. That is insane.

The chick in the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic is INSANE.

Isla Fisher plays the main character that is pretty much in enormous denial about her debt and has absolutely no fiscal restraint whatsoever. But, hell, she is damn cute. Don’t say the word frugal around her because she’ll probably go ballistic. She reminds me of some chicks I know here in Dallas.

Dallas is, after all, the home of the 30 Thousand Dollar Millionaires.

In honor of Shoppers all across the world, I leave you with Millencolin’s consumer addict’s anthem, Material Boy.

This song totally should have been part of the movie.

In the end, this movie emphasizes that the things we buy, of course do not define us.

Oh F that….. I’m going shopping!

I'll take a steak for Valentine's day, please.

2009-02-13T13:45:00.008-06:00

This Valentine’s day I definitely am not asking for this:

And I am more than positive not asking for this no matter how comfortable you are with me.

It may be a holiday but it doesn’t mean YOU have to celebrate or go out and buy someone a gift. I DON'T NEED A GIFT.

On the other hand, oral sex is always a great last minute gift idea.

If Valentine’s day were today, I’d probably be in a bad mood. Thank god, it falls on Saturday because it annoys me when I have TO WORK on a damn holiday. I’d be counting down the hours until I could leave and celebrate like this:

I look great with a beer.

It is a holiday after all.

This train is going nowhere.

2009-02-12T11:59:00.003-06:00

If you live in a city that provides public transportation like a train or subway such as Dallas, then I’m positive you encounter quite a few peculiar people.

I do at least once a week.

Every morning when I board the Red Line to downtown Dallas there is never anywhere to sit because would you believe that everyone works downtown. Yesterday morning a quite urbane man decked out in a full three piece suit excuses himself through the aisle of passengers, stops merely three inches from where I am standing and clutches the rail I am using to keep my balance while the train is in motion.

“Excuse me? Miss?”

I lift my eyebrows to acknowledge him.

“Would you like to make a bet that I can estimate your height?” - Yes, he said ESTIMATE YOUR HEIGHT. Who says that?

And what do you say to that except for Um, OK?

“Um, ok.”

At this time, the woman opposite from me has perked up from her book and starts watching the man examining me. Or in other words, he was totally checking me out and giving me the creeps.

“Without heels, you are approximately 5 foot 7.”

Oh, what’s that you say? FIVE FOOT SEVEN? You estimated 5 foot 7?

BAM‼ I am exactly 5’7” and a fourth!

Remember when you were a kid and someone would ask you how old you were and you would say I am 8 and A HALF years old. Because that half makes all the difference, right? Well, my fourth of an inch makes a difference, people.

“So am I correct?” he asks as the train comes to my stop.

“You should go work for the carnival.”

I just knew he was going to try and guess my weight.

She'll have you for dinner tonight.

2009-02-10T13:19:00.002-06:00

Feel the wrath that is Chloe.

I've got five on it.....

2009-02-09T11:13:00.006-06:00

Starting out as a young married couple my parents were poor. They lived in a tent and VW bus in the Northern California Mountains. That’s pretty poor. Or actually that was an ADVENTURE and I think hippies back in the day loved that kind of thing.

So when I came along my parents didn’t have much money, but they had a ton of little boys’ clothes due to having two sons before me. The first four years of my life, I was sporting the hand-me-downs. I was rocking the He-Man shirts and little boy cargo shorts or something similiar. I was AWESOME.

However, every so often mom would splurge a whole five or six bucks on a dress when it was necessary for like a wedding or going to see grandma, who more than likely had the camera in hand.

As I got older and my parents were making a life for themselves, mom couldn’t get enough of making me look like that little girl she always wanted. Of course, it was due to the fact that I dressed in my brothers’ hand-me-downs for so long. From that point on it was girly prints full of flowers and lace, along with pink dresses and ridiculous bows in my long hair. Every day it was like Christmas morning for her! Really, WHY? (I love my Mom. She rocks harder than yours.)

I hated all that shit. But mom LOVED having a girl.

During the time I wore my brothers’ clothes, why didn’t I ever get to show off a beanie like this kid on the train? A MARIJUANA LEAF? Seriously?

I mean, my parents liked to light up here and there when I was a little one. So, it’s only logical, right?

But really, sometimes I don’t understand the clothing parents make their children wear. This is just crazy.

It is against the law to take a bite out of another person’s hamburger...in Oklahoma.

2009-02-05T14:40:00.008-06:00

This past Sunday I did not watch the Super Bowl. Yes, I am a little late in giving my Super Bowl report, but I completely forgot it was on TV -- only because I CARE SO MUCH about professional football. Plus, I had no idea who was playing, anyway.

However, I did catch Bruce during the half time show and I watched nervously, hoping he wouldn’t bust a hip. He succeeded.

Actually, I could give two shits about football, in general. Unless, my Oklahoma Sooners are playing then sometimes I care JUST A LITTLE. Even though I don’t live in Oklahoma anymore, I still feel like I have to jump on the bandwagon and support because what else does Oklahoma have besides Sooner football?

Well, Mickey Mantle is from Oklahoma. And John Denver. And Woody Guthrie.

Of course, all the um, GREAT country singers like Reba McEntire, Toby Keith, and Garth Brooks, too. Oh yeah, also a little American Idol girl named Carrie Underwood.

I DON'T even like country music.

And by god, BRAD PITT is from Shawnee, Oklahoma. You think he ever remembers the little people back in Oklahoma? Come adopt a child from Oklahoma, bastard!

Oklahoma also has a movie (or musical whatever) named after it. So damn, we ARE famous.

We’re also famous for the Trail of Tears. That's not really something to brag about, though. But hey, Oklahoma has the largest American Indian population of any state. IN YOUR FACE.

And for that, we got the Indian Taco.

What astonishes me is that Oklahoma has an Official State Meal that consists of fried okra, squash, cornbread, barbecue pork, biscuits, sausage and gravy, grits, corn, strawberries, chicken fried steak, pecan pie, and black-eyed peas. (I could do without the grits and black-eyed peas.)

BUT seriously, where’s the Indian Taco on that menu?! Every year Pawhuska, Oklahoma hosts the NATIONAL INDIAN TACO CHAMPIONSHIP and we still haven’t made that our official meal, yet. It’s kind of disappointing.

Man, I want an Indian Taco right now - in all of its juicy beef and sweet flat bread glory. You are missing out if you’ve never had an Indian Taco.

I so heart Chunk's face.

2009-02-04T11:30:00.006-06:00

This week IHeartFaces photography blog is featuring PETS! So, naturally, I had to enter the contest.

And, yes, Chunk has a face only a mother could love, but I think he deserves a little attention. He is a model, of course.

Click on the button and check the site out!

According to dream interpretation, I'm helpless.

2009-02-02T10:12:00.011-06:00

It is said that EVERYBODY dreams and every time we sleep, we have nightmares or something similar. Well, I think that’s bullshit, because very rarely do I remember my dreams. Seriously, I think I may dream once a month, if that. On the other hand, perhaps the reason I can’t recollect any of my dreams is that they are so incredibly boring.

However, after a gazillion dreamless nights, I finally remembered last night’s dream in which I woke up wanting to punch Zach Braff in the face.

Anyway, I’m in a brightly lit and cold hospital room having some kind of life threatening surgery. Blood and guts as well as my internal organs are scattered all over the place, just chilling outside of my body. And all of a sudden, I wake up during this surgery. I start screaming and of course, I’d like to believe I’m cussing up a storm because in reality I’d be throwing a shit fest like an insane person.

The doctor realizes that I’m awake and he abruptly starts shoving all my organs back inside me like – OH NO, don’t let her see this!

EXCUSE ME? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

At this point, my screaming hasn’t missed a beat and as the doctor takes off his mask, he exclaims, “Hey, why don’t you shut your damn mouth!”

Quickly I “shut my damn mouth,” and I am stunned to realize my doctor is Zach Braff. I start shouting, “You’re NOT A DOCTOR! You’re not a doctor‼”

With a smirk, Zach Braff says, “Hey [in his best Fonzie voice], it’s ok, we’re making a movie.”

Speaking of movies, this weekend I watched Eagle Eye, GhostTown and Burn after Reading.

Eagle Eye’s concept was similar to I, Robot but without all the handy helping robots turning against us humans; it only featured one robot. I think the writer of Eagle Eye was snorting speed or something because it was so fast paced I had to pause the movie and take a breather.

Anyway, Shia LeBeouf is still little boy eye candy and Billy Bob Thornton, I will always LOVE.

As for GhostTown, EH, I do not know. There were great one-liners all coming from Ricky Gervais. The whole movie I kept trying to figure out what other movies I had seen one of the male characters. It was very distracting and it started to piss me off.

Burn after Reading has an amazing cast. I do not like Brad Pitt much, but after seeing him in this movie, I think now he has a 60% chance of getting some action with me.

GO BRAD.

It's a nice day for a white wedding.

2009-01-29T09:42:00.005-06:00

This past Saturday I drove to Oklahoma to attend an old high school friend’s wedding. Little did I know, it was going to be a mini high school reunion.

My whole graduating class was there – all SIX of them. OK, I graduated with roughly 65 students – 6? 65? 6? 65? Eh, close enough, right?

Anyway, every morning while I’m getting ready for the Intellectual Property world I call WORK, I will examine the fine lines that are appearing so slyly around my eyes and the dreaded laugh lines that make me look like I’m a happy girl. At that point, I usually say, Man, I’m really starting to look 30.

But after this weekend, I have a smidgen of faith that I am aging pretty damn well.:::knocks on wood:::

Sometimes I look like I am 14. No wonder everyone IDs me. Well, OK, I wouldn’t go that young. Nonetheless, I feel like I should be prank calling stupid boys while playing Salt-n-Pepa’s Push It in the background and frantically hanging up the phone all the while giggling like a schoolgirl. OR I should be attending my first Rave at some underground club debating if tonight’s going to be the night I try ecstasy.

Age 14 was a good year for me, I do admit.

The only thing I think that has changed from the age 14 Lump and the age 28 Lump besides, you know, being an adult and responsible, is well my hair is much longer. Yet, I still do not know its natural color. Also, I have boobs now and I had to buy those.

So my friend’s wedding was absolutely beautiful - SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL - and it was pretty awesome to see old friends that I haven’t seen in a long while. Dude, people have babies. And besides getting married, they’re getting divorces too! The joys of aging.

Do you remember that TV show “thirtysomething”?

Yeah, I used to think people on that show were SO OLD.

It could be a boxing match, bitch.

2009-01-26T14:35:00.004-06:00

I imagine something is going to go down with these two women at the firm. I don’t know what it is, but both are always gossiping about the other.

There’s a ton of mean mugging, competing for certain attorney’s attention and pretty much both are trying to OUT HOT one another with the hair flipping, stupid giggling, and low cut shirts.

They both think they are ON FIRE. Well, one chick makes this awesome broccoli salad. The other, I don’t know what she’s awesome at, however.

I’m waiting for one to lash out….launching herself onto the other as she walks by, grabbing a fistful of hair.

I bet the attorneys would like to see that kind of sight. It would make for an interesting day, anyway.

Adult supervision has now taken place.

2009-01-23T12:14:00.009-06:00

Tuesday afternoon I kept saying over and over inside my head, “Well Done, America. Well done.” I plainly want to declare that Obama has some HUGE BALLS to take on this mess. Don’t worry I’m not going to get all political right now because well, there isn’t much to say, MY MAN is in office.

Later that evening my friend Melisa and I knew a celebration was needed. So, of course, liquor was involved (and do not forget about the beer!)

Melisa is from Bosnia and has been in the states since she was 18, a little over 12 years ago. And if you whip out your elementary math skills, which I am hoping you still know, you will then learn Melisa is the big 3-0.

This woman has some strong opinions, doesn’t take shit from anyone, is extremely blunt and has quite a few life changing stories under her tiny belt. I believe she could debate, smoke and cuss you under the table. And well, if she couldn’t, I would let her anyway.

She and her family were forced out of their home with only the clothes on their backs. She was forced out SO FAST she didn’t even have time to put on a pair of shoes. During the Bosnian War, her family was transported from place to place all the while witnessing the genocide of her people in the Srebrenica Massacre. Throughout that time, Melisa’s brother was a prisoner of war for almost three years, resulting in a 6 foot 3 inch man being starved and his weight barely reaching a peak of 90 pounds.

Enough of the depressing stuff, Melisa is especially entertaining and dudes, her T-shirt speaks for itself. Why, yes, she voted for Obama.

(My t-shirt reads SHARE. Not quite as good as Melisa’s, Make Sex Not War.)

*edit* YES! she can vote. She's an American citizen.

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

2009-01-21T13:13:00.011-06:00

I’m such an asshole. I know it.

I’ve been so involved with work, completely buried under patents, trademarks, infringements OH MY! And occasionally coming up for air to drink a beer.

It’s been weeks since I have accepted the following excellent blog awards from a handful of even more excellent individuals. They deserve a ton of thank yous.

Also, I’d like to thank my parents for raising such a not-so-put-together but prolific lady. (Really, I have the best parents ever. I couldn't ask for anybody better.)

Anyway, onto the award show!

Hilarious Sam @ Sam I Am presented me with the Honest Scrap award, which requires me to list 10 honest details about little ole me. WHAT? TEN? HOLY CRAP. I really don’t know how much more honest I can be. Give me food, a beer, some conversation and OH GOODNESS watch me be profound.

Here goes nothing:

1. I already have broken my new year’s resolutions. WHAT A FAILURE.

2. Monday nights I am very tired, probably because I work like a mad woman every Monday. Ninety-eight percent of the time, I am straining to keep my eyes open so I won’t miss any stupid shows on TV, but I usually fall asleep a little after 8pm anyway. Then at 9pm like clockwork, I’m up and ready for The City. My life is lacking in the drama department, so I have to get it from Whitney Port.

3. Sometimes I’d like to eat nothing but cereal for dinner. Or cereal for dessert after dinner.

4. Although I may live in Texas right now, I did grow up in Oklahoma, but I actually was born in California to two earth loving and beautiful hippies.

5. When my parents gave birth to my oldest brother, for the first two years of his life, they lived in a VW bus and a tent in the northern California Mountains. Dude, I really missed out.

6. When the middle brother and I were in elementary school, everybody used to think we were twins. Of course, they ALWAYS thought I was the better-looking twin.

7. When I was a kid, until the impressionable age of 14, I despised any kind of meat that wasn’t a hamburger or hot dog. But a hot dog isn’t meat now, is it? Today, I seriously crave steak. A nice thick juicy bloody steak. Oh man, it brings a large amount of joy to my mouth.

8. My dad’s mom – so my grandma - used to think I was going to go to hell, get pregnant or worse NOT GO TO COLLEGE because I liked having orange, yellow, or pink hair when I was 15 years old. It was as if the devil was taking over my body during that time of my life. OK, she was just worried about me. But I turned out FINE.

9. OH, little did the grandma know that later in life I would graduate in the top 10 percent of my high school graduating class. NO LIE. However, I completely sucked SO HARD on the ACTs. Standardized testing is worthless, only because I’m terrible at it.

10. So, I have a boyfriend. Of FIVE years. What do you think about that?

Next, I received the refreshing Lemonade award from Megan @ InfertleMyrtle AND from the beautiful Tristan @ BlahBlahBlahg This award theoretically means I have an attitude of gratitude but according to me I had to wait weeks in order to thank these two awesome ladies FINALLY. Now that's GRATITUDE.

This week I gracefully accepted the S2S Award: For Superlative Blogging from Sassy Two Socks. I’m so honored that she recognizes my brilliance. Plus, it’s kind of awesome how she knows I wish I were a Goonie so I could hang out with dudes like Sloth. LOVE IT. And hey, she’s out getting married and stuff, so you should go give her a high five and say Congratulations.

Another award comes from the beautiful, always upbeat and my fellow hip-hop loving blogger @ Froggity. This award is a Spanish award or something. It is times like these when I should have taken Spanish in college instead of five semesters of French because if the award were in French I would know EXACTLY what it was saying. OH, what am I talking about? I had my French major roommate write all my French essays. Well, not entirely. But she did help a Titanic-size amount. Thanks for the As, dear friend.

Andy @ Wild ARS Chase gave me an award as well. It’s almost like the Oscars of blog awards, but only if you’re blog friends with Andy. So, I’d like to consider myself blog friends with this guy, Andy.

I mean, check it out. I won “Best Blog at keeping it real (funny)” and I’m considered to be “more honest than a lie detector test, that is if the lie detector dropped the f-bomb and used sexual references”

That is one of the nicest things I have ever heard. I almost cried.

I know I’m supposed to pass on some of these awards to others. Well, I’d like to pass them on to all of you because I’m really tired of being an asshole.