I'm going to name my kids Ashley and Whitney. No I'm not. That's disgusting.

I love THIS!!!!!


Now. On to other news.


So.... Christine and I recently delighted in what can only be called a NINJA MISSION.


Backstory: Soooo.... Christine's WB (work boyfriend) was in Hawaii on extended vacation. When in Rome, you know. While away he texted Christine every day all "Ohhh I can't wait to see you," "I got you this great present," "Schmoozey schmoozey," "I'm oozing with charm and suave wit." So Christine was like "yeah I think I MIGHT go to WB's tonight, maybe, maybe not" but it was obvious that homegirl had somewhat planned to go to his house. However, when he got back he mysterioussssssly had other things "planned" and couldn't hang out. I don't buy it, ya slick haired weasel. And I said as much.


Christine: I wish we could like see what he's really doing.

Me: Uhhh we can.

Christine: ???

Me: Yeah. We go to his house. Put some feelers out. See whats up...

Christine: Are you inferring that we STALK him?

Me: I'm inferring that we...go for a drive, make some turns, see where life takes us. In secret.

Christine: Isn't that a little psycho?

Me: I don't see where this is going. Are we going or not?

Christine: Obviously.


So. We naturally immediately dressed in all black. And got her camera with the zoomy lens thing. We hopped on the freeway, blasting Paramore, trying to talk over it... Of course. Christine was emphatic, emphatic I tell you, that we wouldn't find anything. "This is silly. He is probably asleep. He probably hasn't texted me because he's so busy being a standup guy that it just slipped his mind that we had plans to hang out tonight." Yeah. And cats are good pets, Christine. As we were nearing his house, I started getting antsy. I was straight cracked out. On excitement and suspense of it all.


Me: What if he comes outside??

Chrsitine: Act like you lost your dog!

Me: He knows me!!

Christine: Well say he has fast legs and loves the mountain air.

Me: Ok. But I'm gonna pee.

Christine: Where??

Me: Right here!! Pull over!! I'm leaking!!


So, Christine OF COURSE doesn't pull over so I can take care of the bladder issue. Something about it being illegal. Whatever. It was pitch black. I don't even think a cop can fault a girl for needing to go when she needs to go. It's science. Yeah so I'm on the verge of bursting... but I think Christine would say the point is that when we drove by his house there was a car in the driveway!! Not HIS car. A girl car. Yes. A car that no self-respecting male would drive. At first I thought it made sense that it was WB's car but my roomie assured me its not his. Well. That has yet to be proven. But anyway. We park a reasonable distance away, down the street and on the other side of course. Next, we take some quick breathers and I try my luck again at getting the go ahead to pee on the neighbor's grass. But alas, she is still opposed. You know how when you play hide and seek and the moment you find the most deluxe hiding spot a girl can dream of, you have to pee! It's like some sort of switch your brain flips to mess with you at the most inopportune moment. That's messed up man. For cereal. Yeah so we get out of the car and sneak, ever sooooo slowly and gingerly to his front yard. Like we're literally in his front yard, 20 feet from his bedroom window. I felt fine about it but Christine was a bit jumpy. We decide to look in the car just to confirm someone's suspicions about it being a female's car. But dang it. We didn't bring a flashlight!! How could we forget that!! After I had sidled up along the car like I'm totally Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. I'm in his front yard for hecks sake and I have no flashlight? What kind of ninjas are we. Ninjas always have flashlights. But really. What would we have done with flashlights? We were laughing too hard to hold them steady anyway. I think we would have put on some sort of attention drawing light show before we actually found out anything.


Needless to say, we didn't find out any juicy info from the car. But we were lead to infer that the car belonged to a ladyfriend of WB's and thats fine. Just as we suspected. Juuuuuuuust as we suspected. Uh huh. UH. HUH.


I can't wait for another opportunity to be a ninja. I love my black pants. I think they sell those bright colored flashlights at Sev too. Score.

Thus begins the saga of a mutual hate, if you will, of WB.

I'll do my best Velociraptor impression

Conversations Amanda and I had today, at work, in passing:


Christine: Hey, let's create online personas and become youtube sensations
Amanda: K, but I wanna be a rapper.
Christine: No, I was gonna be a rapper.
Amanda: I'm not doing it unless I can be a rapper.
Christine: FINE. I'll be a wacky German.

----------------------------

This is while we were discussing which clients we would choose as boyfriends based on varying characteristics, ie. bald, voluntarily bald, mormon, fed-ex guy, etc.

Christine: Okay, but can you actually imagine breaking up a happy home?
Amanda: Ugh. NO. I'm busy, I got things to do. Hustlers gotta hustle.
Christine: Word. But seriously! I don't care who it is- that's just wrong. Even if it was Brad Pitt. I'd be like "No, Brad. No. Cut it out with your persistent kisses and kindly remove yourself from my penthouse loft with bamboo flooring."
Amanda: Oooh, bamboo! Very nice!

Oh Thursday night, you Saucey Wench

Actual Conversation Amanda and I had yesterday:

Me: Are you gonna give blood at the blood drive tomorrow?
Amanda: Helllllll no, are you?
Me: Of course! The world needs blood. You should too.
Amanda: No way. I'll pass out. I'll freak out. I'll start hyperventilating.
Me: What if you're a rare blood type?
Amanda: I don't give a seanvote.
Me: Well, they're giving away a flat screen TV and we could really use one! Come on, come on come on comeoncomeoncomeon.
Amanda: No. Case closed.
Me: SIIIIIIIIIGH. Fine, I'll just have to donate my life-giving blood twice. I'll be saving widows and orphans if you need me...


Actual Conversation Amanda and I had this morning:

Amanda: So, you giving blood today or what?
Me: Nah.
Amanda: Ohhhhh? Why not, you were all about it yesterday.
Me: Was I? That doesn't sound like me.
Amanda: yessssssssssssss, so why no blood now?
Me: wellllllllllllllll... I just don't think my blood would be any good today.
Amanda: What do you mean?
Me: I just don't want to have to ask the phlebotomist if it's cool to give blood when I did 4 shots of tequila and had 3 beers last night.
Amanda: Good call.

This is my life, y'all.

So that moderately boring date I went on? The one that I was trying to get out of and then was fairly neutral about the result? Yeah. Well, yesterday that fool cruised off the elevator and into the lobby of my place of work on a razor scooter. Let me repeat that- RAZOR SCOOTER. Random dude I went out with. In my lobby. On a scooter made for a 7 year old. Right. So, that was awkward. What am I even supposed to say? "Nice ride" ? "Good to see you again" ??? Because, I assure you, it was not good to see him again, especially not with what was he was rollin' in on. This isn't really going anywhere-- this is just an aside, by the way.

So, last night, as I was making my delicious dinner by warming up a Lean Cuisine Pepperoni Pizza and cutting up some veggies, I was thinking about how much I've grown since I first moved into my own place. I mean, I used to exclusively eat Lean Pockets and ice cream for crying out loud, and I never used an iron, but now I TOTALLY iron my clothes if they're out-of-control wrinkly. And veggies!?!?! Psh! Who am I?? My mother??? I sometimes go to bed at a responsible hour, I do my laundry fairly regularly, I have a pretty good handle on dishes, and I only eat ice cream as a meal on rare occasions. I guess this is me as a grown up. BASK.

Then this morning I totally got goosebumps listening to the new Justin Beiber song and realized that I'm basically an 11-year-old with a job.



Meow, Justin. Me. Yow.

Updated: I just watched this video AGAIN with Amanda, and besides almost peeing our pants with excitement, I totally got full-body goosebumps again. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??

Because I needed more Blog Fodder and I'm dangerously close to turning into a cat lady

So I agreed to go on a date last night. The details of this dude's identity are not important, what's important is: I could not have been less excited about this date.

He asked me to dinner for Friday night and I switched it to Thursday night because I already KNEW that dinner with this guy on a Friday night would be a perfectly good waste of a weekend evening. So Thursday night it was. He text me Thursday morning to make sure I was still game. I wanted to hurl myself off the top of the building where I work.

He text me some lame joke. I immediately started texting all my friends to see what else was going on that evening: "Hey, what's up? Doing anything? Watching Big Brother marathons? ANYTHING??"

Somehow all my friends were doing literally nothing. One of my friends was down to hang out, but he doesn't even own a TV and didn't feel like going anywhere, so I eventually decided that a free dinner was better than lying around on my friends couch, counting ceiling tiles.

I took a nap and was woken by Amanda and Andrew loudly *ahem* karaoke-ing in the living room. I guess they didn't realize I was still there. I didn't know what day it was or what was going on, all I knew was that Amanda wanted her eyebrows plucked and my hair was a mess.

So there I am, eyebrows in hand when I get a call from this guy saying he's in my parking lot, a-ready and waiting. I threw on a sub-par outfit and grabbed my keys.

Internet, I can honestly say that was the highlight of my evening. Nothing else to report. I was home by 9:30, Amanda was watching some show about midget chocolatiers that live in Salt Lake (we're gonna try to get on the show using Amanda's wedding as a decoy), and I flossed, brushed, washed and went to bed. It was the squarest of square nights and I'm not even mormom! Why am I even writing this post??? Oh yeah, Amanda's mom (our only reader) decided she wanted to know more about my love life.

Well, THERE LAURIE. Are you happy now? The only good news I have, currently, is that it's Friday and there is a party in Sugarhouse tonight. And we all know- ain't no party like a sugarhouse party because a sugarhouse party has boutique beer and compost piles....hmmm, it flowed better in my head.

I just got a bird of paradise to the eye

You know those times when you're so extremely nervous/anxious/stressed out about an impending event that you have to talk yourself down from a ledge? That's me today. And for the past week. And for the next 2 weeks. I've got this THING coming up and it decides my whole life. No joke. Yes, I'm exaggerating but its not your THING so that's none of your business, really. The THING is the class I'm currently in. I either get a pass or a fail and it's majorly stressing me out bro! I'm being evaluated on this and that and then they give me a green light or a red light. No yellow, work on this or that. Just straight up red or green. Ugh. Frenchrick.

I don't know why I'm being so angsty about it. It's not THAT big of a deal you say but it totally is!! What if I don't pass! I'll be homeless within a week! I'll smell and have buggy hair and Christine will totally diss me at work cause she doesn't want the other employees (there are none...?) to know she knows me or that we used to be roommates and spend 3s Company time together. And my mom will disown me cause she doesn't like the homeless. And my sister really likes clothes and mine will probably be ripped. And my other sister won't ever let me see the babies cause I might give them scabes or the Hep. Hephep islands in the sun... I'm worried.

And I know to the naked eye it won't be the end of the world but I'm scared that it is. Things were going juuuuuust great for the first time in a lo... ever, actually. I've got some shit together finally. It's nice. This whole school Masters degree thing is/was really gonna seal the deal. But if they find my skills inadequate, I'm so outta there. And then I'll cry. I don't even cry that much anymore you guys! I don't even cry at Match.com commercials anymore! You know someone's havin a rough go of it when Leigh and whatever his new wife's name is make you cry. Gay! Those 2 probably aren't even married. They've probably never even met before that day of filming! However, if that is the case, that's some good casting. They have chemistry. Just kidding, I never cried.

But anyway, (no s, see what I did there?) I'm just super stressed out about it. And my life will be in shambles if I don't pass this THING. So whatever. I might just turn to turning tricks on State. That wouldn't be so bad. I could at least do it in Draper or something? I don't know. *sigh*

I want to punch you in the head but in a good way.

You know who I'm tired of? Uncle Cracker. He disgusts me. Dude. You're trying too hard. No one likes you. No has ever liked you. Kenny Chesney did a song with you out of desperation because he too is a disgusting human being. Revolting. Now you think you've gone country? That ranks you with the Jewels of the world. If that's where you wanna be in life, alright. But do it somewhere else and outside of the range of my ears. Please. No one has successfully gone country but Darius Rucker and he is welcome because he's good and I like him. You, Cracker, are not welcome. Furthermore, what kind of a name is Uncle Cracker. A disgusting one if you ask me. Child molesterish and you are not welcome on my radio!

Now. Second order of business. Danielle Staub. Christine and I have determined that we would rather be trapped in a box for 29 hrs with Kelly Bensimone than Danielle. And that's saying alot. Danielle is super paranoid. Like clinically paranoid. I'm pretty sure she genuinely thinks the other ladies are going to kill her in her sleep. But why? Because Teresa caused a minor upset with the table in Season 1 and the ladies gossip about you? Well excuse me. Have you ever met an Italian lady? I know you claim to be one but lets take a closer look at this. She has a major attitude, a temper, and yells alot. Duh. What do you thaaaank!! Get over it. Stop playing the victim and focus on making sure your poor kids don't turn out like you. That is a better use of your time. The paranoia has got to go. You bore me. That being said, I just think that if i was stuck in a box with her, she'd have ME convinced that I want to kill her in nothing flat. That'd be weird. I'd rather hang out with the unicorn lover Kelly than crazylegs Danielle. Under no circumstances would I hang out with Bethenny (Who spells their name that way, anyway?? It's bullshit.).