Imagine if they didn't suck...

Is it just me or is anyone else really pissed that the last 2 weeks have been “Beatles Time” on American Idol?

I am not a huge fan of the show. Honestly, I usually only watch the first few weeks to see the rejects during the tryout tour because really? How can watching a whole bunch of people make complete fools of themselves on national TV not make you feel better about yourself? I don’t care if that’s mean. Someone really needs to tell them they suck so bad before they let them go and look like idiots in front of the cable-watching world.

Friends of mine, if you are thinking about trying out for American Idol, come sing for me first. I promise to be honest and tell you if you’re terrible in the privacy of your own home before you go and humiliate yourself and have someone you don’t know tell you that you blow on Fox. That’s what friends do. You’re welcome.

I LOVE the Beatles. Like, went through a whole phase in junior high when they were the ONLY thing I would listen to, love the Beatles. I even sang “Love Me Do” with 3 of my best friends in front of our 7^th grade English class as part of an oral presentation on the group. Yeah. I was a die-hard fan. I broke out of the obsessive adoration in high school, but still listened to their music and loaded my iPod with them when I got it in college. I carried their White Album with me EVERYWHERE. I burned it for interested friends and had at least 2 copies of it in every car I have ever owned. So yeah, I love them. Doesn't mean I think I sound like them.

I missed out on last weeks Beatle mutilation because, like I said, I don’t watch past the tryouts. I heard that a curly blonde girl rocked “Let It Be,” and that a 17 year-old kid forgot the words to “We Can Work It Out.” Seriously, who’s dumbass idea was it to let these kids (more than a few of which stated they had never even heard the song they were performing until the day they chose it—where the hell have all of you been?? What did your parents listen to??) sing Beatles songs? So wrong on so many levels.

Why would you put a bunch of amateur singers up against songs that are pretty much flawless to begin with? During the tryouts, the judges just kind of always hang their heads when someone comes in and tells them they are about to sing a Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey song, and with good reason—those songs are HARD to get right. The contestant always ends up finishing with, what they think is, great flourish and then they just get a whole lot of sad dog eyes and pouty head shakes from the judges. Why would Beatles night (and 2 of them!!) be better for these people?

With the exception of Kelly Clarkson (because hello—she came out when I was 18), I have never been a fan of the American Idol winners. I think they are mediocre at best. Last night totally proved that to me with this group. Who country-fys “You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away?” C’mon now…

Happy

I dare you to watch this video and not at least crack a smile.

I was randomly checking out You Tube one day and found this assortment of digital shorts created by the students of the Vancouver Film School and fell in love with all of them. This one makes me laugh so hard I have to shut my office door to watch it.

It takes me back about 5 years, sitting on the futon in our dorm room with my sorority sisters, all of us trying to cheer up my college roommate because she was having issues with her boyfriend. We talked to her, listened to her, tried to make her see that he wouldn’t be the last boy she would ever feel that way about, told her jokes, told her OUR bad boyfriend stories, and let her cry on our shoulders. Nothing worked and she ended up sobbing about the same damn boy for 3 and half years. If one of us had just farted during one of those long, long nights I wonder if her attitude would have changed.

Update

While SK is enjoying Spring Break (lucky jerk), our friends in Austin are enjoying SXSW (luckier jerks), and Houston is (not) enjoying the gross, cloudy, tornado-watch weather (BAHAHAHAHA Spring Breakers!), I am sitting inside at my desk, in my office.

Sigh.

Not that I want to be outside in the horrible weather, but being off for the week wouldn’t be so bad. And being in Austin listening to awesome live music would be fabulous. But, you know, WORK.

I am, however, taking Friday off.

Because I want to. So THERE.

And because if I don’t there is a really strong possibility that I MIGHT go a little insane and have a meltdown in my office. And no one wants to deal with my psychotic break. I am sure there would be screaming and crying and hair pulling –my own, don’t worry…I would be losing my mind, NOT my awareness of boundaries and personal space.

There has just been a lot going on. And I know my blog betrays my “stuff going on” thing because I don’t update regularly, and when I do I usually try to stay away from just telling you guys about the crap I am working on day to day, but SERIOUSLY I need to get it out. And because I like making lists and they are the quickest way to make me feel in control and safe again, this is what you get today.

1. Don’t fret—we are still in the middle of the house buying. I haven’t wanted to bore you all with the details of that because, quite frankly, they bore me. Also, until recently, there hasn’t been much to report. And since I am a little bit of a freak about jinxing things, I am going to stop the story there. OH THE SUSPENSE! I promise to update when I have solid news to divulge, but right now I am just too afraid to put it all down in writing for God and the Internet to see, for fear that in doing so I might somehow disrupt the delicate balance of the Circle of Life and everything we have been working for might just all go to shit.

2. Bella is doing well. She is almost 1, which really just blows me away. Not in the “oooohhhh she is growing up soooooo fast!” kind of way, but more in the “Jesus F’ing Christ, this dog is almost already 1 and we are JUST NOW celebrating her complete potty-training??” She has also officially moved on to the I Will Now Chew Everything You Own That You Love phase. We’re psyched. She has taken chunks out of the following household/personal items:

- SK’s Diesel shoe. The left one.

- My TLU flip flop. The right one.

- 2 pairs of my VS boyshort underwear.

- The power cord for my laptop.

- My Rubber tree. She ate the whole thing.

- Our papasan chair frame. It sits on the balcony, but really?

- Every single pair of socks we own.

The sock thing is kind of our fault—she snagged a sock one day while we were doing laundry and rather than snatch it away from her, we laughed and watched her throw it up in the air to herself in the living room. Bad us. Since then, we have been losing more and more socks and she is way over the tossing them playfully in the air thing. She has now graduated to shredding them. We finally realized we were fighting a losing battle—one that we helped to start—so we surrendered and emptied our sock drawers into her toy box and went and bought ourselves all new socks. She got one of SK’s new ones last week. I thought his head might explode.

3. I have had my first official Rodeo Houston experience. This is something that still irks me a bit to admit because I had definitely successfully avoided the rodeo for the last 9 years without ever even wanting to go check it out. This year, I caved. I went with Chandra and some other girlfriends last Friday night, when Clay Walker (who is he?) was playing. Some of my friends are on one of the committees, which mean they have badges that make them invincible on the Rodeo fairgrounds. Seriously. I have never in my life seen people look upon a badge with so much admiration. People COVET those badges. We walked from place to place inside the arena and when anyone saw the badge on Kacey’s belt, they stepped aside and invited us inside, or to sit down, or to hold and kiss their baby. I felt like part of an old western posse. We were Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp in Tombstone, in heels (which, by the way, was a bad idea…don’t wear heels to the Rodeo). Lots of beer was consumed, some calf-ropin’ was watched, and by the end of the night Chandra and I were so caught up in the Rodeo-ness of it all that we started talking to Kacey about being on a committee ourselves next year. Like I said, LOTS of beer was consumed.

4. SK and I went to Las Vegas! This actually happened over a month ago, during Valentine’s day weekend, but I have waited until now to mention it because I was embarrassed by the NO PICTURES I have to post. I lost our camera. Mom, PLEASE don’t make that face. I know this is the second digital camera in my life I have lost. I know. I suck and I am sorry. I do have one camera phone video of the Bellagio fountain show that I will post at a later date. When my phone decides to cooperate with me and hand over the video.

5. My mom had surgery. She is doing great. Thank you, and Amen.

6. Because my brother is the best brother in the history of all brothers, he has given me a $150 gift card to Express. Thanks, and I love you, Kevin!

There. That basically catches you all up. I am pretty much a stressed out mess right now, what with dealing with all the horrors that are Buying Your First House, but *hopefully* that will all be over soon. But, like I said, no jinxing that. Stay tuned.

"Celebrity" sighting

I used to be a HUGE fan of Trading Spaces. I watched all the new episodes, would sit on the couch all day if there was a marathon happening, and even entered a contest in college to participate in a poor-man’s version of the show, sponsored by our design students. My suitemates and I were bitter our entire sophomore year about not winning that damn contest.

Now, though, I watch it if there is nothing else to do. And when I mean nothing else, I mean that pretty much the rest of the channels on my TV have to be blacked out and someone has mysteriously stolen every book or magazine in my apartment and my internet connection is dead and neither SK nor the dog are willing to talk to me.

I’m over it. The designers are unoriginal, the materials they use are cheap, and seriously—what is with the walls hidden by ginormous sheets of hideous fabric? I don’t get it.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I just don’t SEE the designer’s visions. The show has just lost its majesty. Possibly it happened when Paige left. Or maybe when Ty got his own show. Or perhaps when they started giving Hildi more air-time and she kept producing vomit-inducing rooms covered in FAKE FLOWERS. WTF, Hildi?? Whatever the reason, I am just not into the show anymore.

Which is why I didn’t completely lose my shit today at Barnes & Noble.

I saw Frank Bielec. The guy who does the chickens and the country EVERYTHING? Yeah, him.

Sadly, he was not wearing his signature red high-top Converse and jean shorts. He was wearing jeans and a black tshirt, with a black baseball cap covering his round, bald head. Apparently he is from Katy.

He held the door open for me while I was walking in, and then got in line behind me at the Starbucks they have inside the store. (When I have time to take a lunch break, I go to B&N. Their soup is ridiculously good, and I have gotten through more than a few books during my hour stay there.) I didn’t tell him I was a fan of the show, or ask if it was really him. I smiled politely and said thank you when he let me through the door, and then laughed when he made a lame joke about my crumpled receipt (issue with the receipt printer thing) looking like the barista had used it for an origami project.

I thought about telling him that I used to enjoy watching him be crazy and flamboyant and all red shoes and jean shorts, but many of the experience I have had in the past with celebrities have resulted in them being major pricks (I’m talking to YOU, Thomas Hayden Church) so I thought, why bother?

Although, a guy who cracks weak lines about origami receipt art probably isn’t a prick. Just a guess.

FUH2

My inner geek is absolutely head over heels butt-crazy in love with this site. If you are nerdy too, go there. You won't be disappointed.

This morning's post further solidified that wild passion I harbor.

I HATE HUMMERS.

I think they belong in deserts and wars*, not in the fast lane on the 610.

Fuck you, H2.

*By the way, I do not condone wars. I just think IF there is one, a Hummer would be appropriate transportation for soldiers.

Is it haiku if it's profane?

On days like today
I just want to punch someone
In their fucking eye

Michael and Me

Thanks Karen and Melody for commenting and giving me direction ;) This post is a result of this blog. Go there and check it out! Be awesome like Melody and Karen and let me know what you’d like to hear more about. Be awesome so I can be lazy and not actually have to think up an idea for my next post. Thanks a billion, Internet. You’re swell.

So back to Michael and Me…

I am a middle child. Weird, right? I know.

I can see you all shaking your heads like, no WAY you’re a middle child. Middle children aren’t supposed to be bossy or stubborn or care what people think about them. Middle children are supposed to be rebellious and angsty and demand attention.

Ok, so I occasionally demand attention.

Shut up.

But I am a middle child. Technically. I pretty much grew up as the oldest, though, so there’s where the bossy, stubborn, perfectionist vibe comes from. Sometimes I wish I had gotten to be more of a middle child though. Having a fall-back excuse for being a brat would have been AWESOME. Also, it would have meant that my brother would have been around more, which is where I am going with this.

Michael. I have a Michael.

He turned 34 in December. His name is Michael Robert Wittmann. Aaaaand…that’s about all I know.

He’s my dad’s son from him his first marriage. I don’t know much about his first wife, just that they dated in high school, got married and joined the army right after graduation.

They divorced when Michael was 3 or 4.

*Insert long romantical story about how my parents met and fell in love here*

Their story is actually pretty great and totally cute, but it would take me 6 years to actually get it right and typed out and really? I don’t have that kind of time.

When my mom and dad got married, my mom knew he came with a child. Michael would stay with them sometimes on weekends and stuff. There are cute pictures in old photo albums of my parents and Michael playing at a park, sliding down the slide, bouncing on the teeter-totter and smiling and being happy. My mom and dad look so young, and Michael looks JUST LIKE my dad.

So when my mom and dad had Kevin and me, Michael became a big brother. He was nine when I was born. There are pictures of him holding me, and pictures of us playing together when I was little. I don’t remember much of it though.

He lived most of the time with his mom, who moved to Oregon at some point. He would come visit, stay for a while, and then leave, so he was never around for long periods of time. Kevin and I loved when he came to stay though, because he was FUN. He was tall and big and we pretty much used him as a human jungle gym, which must have been awesome for him, and he would bring us toys. I remember the year he brought us Nerf guns for Christmas. We ran around like maniacs shooting everything with the air-powered foam balls. SO FUN.

Sadly though, that is really all I remember about him. Being 9 years older than me, we never really had much in common and he stopped sending me birthday cards around my 10^th or 11^th He would have been 19 or 20 at that point, and had brothers from his mom’s marriages after my dad, so he had a whole other family world goin’ on in Oregon.

I don’t even know if he knows that we moved to Texas. He sort of cut us out a while ago. Maybe he just forgot about us?

I think about him often…more so now that I would actually be capable of flying to Oregon to hunt him down, but what would I say? Hi, I’m your 25 year-old sister that you haven’t seen since you were 18, let’s be friends! I don’t know why I think that is ridiculous though…if he randomly walked up to me and said the same thing I would throw my arms around him and be all Bro, we’ve got A LOT of catching up to do so let’s go get a beer and by the way, can I still climb up your shoulder like I used to?

Little Miss LoJack

Baby Ryan was born Tuesday, February 26^th at 7am. She weighed 8lb 12oz (holy shit, Deb) and was 21in. long.

We have a niece!

Technically, SK has a niece and I can play almost-aunt for now, but really? I just call her my niece.

And I think she is beautiful.

And I held her.

And she farted her first little fart on me.

!!!!

Seriously, it was the cutest little toot I have ever heard. Clearly, she is super comfortable with me.

It’s no secret that babies make me uncomfortable. I have a lot of cousins and have baby sat for more than a few little kids in my lifetime, but I have never really been around newborns. Sure, I have held them, sitting down with my mom or their mom sitting right next to me, breathing down my neck, making sure I don’t let the baby’s head fall off or something. Hi, PRESSURE.

Until Tuesday night I have never been handed a baby knowing full well that the one doing the hand off completely trusts that I will not drop her child or break it. It was wild!

And who would have thought? I didn’t drop her, smack her head into anything, or trip and fall baby-first into the hard hospital floor. She was actually relaxed enough that she FARTED on me.

We’re going to be great buds.

The happy family

And here is a picture of Deb and Wil, pre-Ryan. Well, kind of. Ryan is there, but she is just a bump and is kind of hidden by Deb’s pretty flowers. Hi Ryan ;)

By the way, Deb is probably the biggest BADASS I know. She was induced on Monday morning, had contractions all day and was finally given the epidural at about 7:30pm that night, which she said rocked. Apparently, though, at about 3am Tuesday morning, the epidural pump STOPPED WORKING.

Oh. My. God.

Not having delivered a baby before, she thought maybe the pain was normal…? She kept telling her nurses and doctor that she was in A LOT of pain, and they kept telling her to push her little button to keep the drugs flowing. She kept hitting the button, nothing happened, and by the time her doctor realized what the problem was, it was too late to give her more meds.

Oh. My. God.

To all you non-epidural needing people (men) out there, this means she delivered an 8lb. 12oz. child WITHOUT ANY PAIN MEDICATION.

Oh. My. GOD!

But there she is, smiling in spite of it all, happy to be holding her precious little daughter in her arms.

Seriously though, OH MY GOD.

P.S.: Did you know that babies have sensors on them in the hospital? Ded showed me Ryan’s belly button (which, not gonna lie, almost made me gag) and attached to the clamp that is holding her umbilical cord shut (blech), is a big green thing. I was all, wtf? And Deb was all, it’s a sensor and if anyone, even us, takes her beyond a certain point in the hospital, the whole thing goes into lock-down. And SK was all, dude they so totally just LoJacked your baby.

Back!

Apparently, the Real Me is boring and has nothing to say.

…

I liked Semi-Fake Me.

I bet you all did too. She was funny (sometimes) and posted often and told stories about cars catching on fire, drowning in mattresses, and how her dog slams her head into walls because she thinks it will help her get to the human she so insanely loves on the other side.

Sigh.

In an attempt to get my blogging butt back in gear, I am going to create a list. If you know me, you know how much I absolutely ADORE lists. I think that there should be lists created for everything. Going swimming? Make a list of all the things you’ll need. Buying lunch? Make a list of all the possibilities. You can even make lists for stuff you DON’T want to do or buy! The listing potential of life is endless.

I think I like lists so much because I am such a freak about avoiding procedure and structure in my life. With a list, I feel like I am participating in a process I am in complete control of, a process I can handle and one that won’t make me spontaneously combust from the pressure of DOING IT THE RIGHT WAY. If I make the list, then obviously I am capable of doing/buying/completing all the items on it, which makes me feel powerful and in charge. Which I like. A lot.

But enough about my list obsession.

My idea for this post will hopefully spawn many other posts that you, dear InterWeb, will want to read. I am going to create a list of stuff about me (an elaboration of the “5 Things” post from a few weeks ago) and I am going to be as honest and open as possible. If there is anything on the list that you see that you’d like to hear more about, or hear the story behind, just leave a comment and I will create a post dedicated to the item you chose. If I get nothing back in the comment department, no worries…hopefully just creating this list will be the creative boost I need to get back in the game. And if not, well, at least I got to spend some time making a fun list.

1. I have an older brother. I don’t think a lot of people know this about me, even though I tell just about everyone I meet. I think people forget about him. I haven’t seen him in over 10 years.

2. The only pets I can ever remember having have been black Labradors and random fish. My mom outlawed gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs and basically any rodent and/or outdoor animal of any kind in our house. These things were vermin and not to be considered pets.

3. Once, my younger brother and I found a baby bird and broke my mom’s rule and brought it into the house. We kept it for a few days and then, in an attempt to teach it to fly, my neighbor broke its wing and it died.

4. I know all the words to the following 5 movies: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Jim Carrey’s Grinch, Elf, Napoleon Dynamite, and Clueless.

5. I can still remember my phone number from 1998. I get my current cell number scrambled up when people ask for it.

6. I can remember the license plates of both of my parent’s cars from California. I couldn’t tell you the plate # of my car right now if you paid me. The missing digit throws me off.

7. Pennies annoy me. I almost always throw them into any water feature I happen to be near. By my estimation, I have tossed away 58,649 dollars in my lifetime in pennies. Dangit.

8. I can’t get pedicures. There are multiple reasons for this. People are always amazed when I tell them how much I can’t stand them.

9. I loathe Peeps. Y’know, the sprinkle-covered chick and bunny-shaped marshmallow candies? HATE THEM.

10. Ben Harper’s “Strawberry Fields Forever” is quite possibly the greatest Beatles cover of all time. It is on the “I am Sam” sound track. I suggest you go check it out.

11. I once lied to my parents about how I wrecked my car because I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth: that it was 10am on a Saturday morning, I was dead sober, and I honestly just didn’t see the tree.

12. I sometimes have dreams of my deceased grandfather. Nothing scary. In my most recent one, he met SK and shook his hand and then told me he approved. I wake up missing him so much that my chest hurts for the rest of the day. I would have those dreams every night if I could.

13. I refuse to be friends with people who wear socks with sandals.

14. When I get really nervous, I throw up. When I don’t get enough sleep, I throw up. My terrible gag reflex also causes me to throw up. I should be a lot thinner than I am.

15. Donuts really gross me out. I will probably eat one if you give it to me, though.

16. At my 13th (14th?) bday party, my friends and I set my parent’s kitchen table on fire. I don’t think my parents ever found out. Yes, they were home.

17. My brother and I are CONVINCED we caught a super-spider in 1998. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen and was the weirdest bug. No one believes us when we talk about it.

18. I once SANG the Pledge of Allegiance. Boo-yah.

19. I have never seen the original three Star Wars movies. SK says this makes me un-American. I simply remind him that I once SANG the Pledge of Allegiance. Double boo-yah.

20. My swim coach in high school was paralyzed from the waist down. Swimming with just her arms, though, she was still faster than the fastest swimmer on our co-ed Varsity team. She was a badass.

21. The Hills Have Eyes made me vomit. Literally. I don’t care if you have read this 17 thousand times on this blog or in surveys I have done, or if you have heard it from me 2 billion times. I will tell everyone I come into contact with that it was seriously the worst movie ever made.

22. I was a ballerina when I was little. For my first recital, I wore a sparkly yellow tutu with a sequin covered head dress that looked like a shiny flat banana on my head. Somewhere, my parents have the video. In the closet of my room at their house, hangs the tutu.

23. I don’t give money or food to fat bums. OBVIOUSLY they are eating somewhere. Is that mean? Eh.

24. One summer, however, I gave 25 McDonald’s cheeseburgers to a pregnant bum.

25. I have an uncle who works at the state penitentiary in Lompoc, California. This is the state pen that was made infamous by Vin Diesel in “The Fast and the Furious,” except that he was a total tool and pronounced it Lom-Pock. It’s Lom-Poke, dumbass.

26. I also have an uncle who works in Hollywood. He used to work on the TV show Wings, and then on Frasier. He’s pretty badass and got us in to see all kinds of show tapings at the major studio lots.

27. I have punched 3 people in the face in my life (thus far). 2 of them have been boys.

28. At my elementary school, we had monthly earthquake and drive-by drills along with the more standard fire drills.

29. I once was kicked in the ear under water while playing a game. It resulted in a broken ear drum and partial hearing loss in my left ear.

30. I get really offended if you don’t like my dog. SHE loves YOU. What’s your deal?

Turning it around

I started this blog to curb boredom at work. I thought that maybe instead of messing around on myspace or facebook, and in place of compulsively checking my personal e-mail account every 10 minutes, I would write. That might sound a little odd, but I thought that in place of aimlessly surfing from page to page on some social website, I could just keep a word file open all day and when the mood struck me, I would click over to it and put down whatever it was that was taking my focus off of my work.

Unfortunately, that is not what this has become.

I have lost sight of what I wanted this webpage to be for me. To be completely truthful, I don’t think I ever really made it into half of what I wanted to begin with. Instead of writing my thoughts and being honest and free, I have gone the easy route and told you all (all 4 of you) story upon story about my dog, and the lady who hit my car, and how frustrating it is to be a financially unstable twenty-something living with her boyfriend.

Not that any of that is bad, because it’s not. DON'T MISUNDERSTAND WHAT I AM WRITING. I enjoy SO MUCH reading about other people’s lives. I love reading stories about your children and your animals and your tough days and your good days. I love seeing your pictures and reading about all the funny things your kids say and how excited you are to be becoming parents soon.

It’s just not what I thought this would turn into for me.

I feel like some of the posts I have written have been meaningful. Some have been because I felt like I should post something that day. Others have been published solely in the hopes of making someone laugh when they read them, which is meaningful, I suppose. So ok, forget that last part--I like making people laugh ;)

I have always thought that I had something to say. I have opinions on just about everything and have never EVER been afraid to voice those with conviction. But for some reason, on here, to the Internet, I am afraid of saying what it is I really want to say. Exactly what I am hesitant about, I don’t really know.

Possibly of judgment. From who? The handful of people who read this site, to most of whom I am related? Maybe. Probably.

It’s something I am deciding that I need to get over.

Not that I am never going to write another post about Bella, or SK, or the woes of buying our first house, because I so totally will because yeah, hi, that’s my life. But now, I will try and write about those things with the same intensity and passion with which I live them.

I will try and write so that you get to know ME. Not just the sarcastic, in love, dresses her dog in a blue king pillowcase for Halloween me, but the real, flawed, not always 100% sure of herself me. Because I need to know that these things, my life that is happening to me right now, is more than can be explained in a picture post, or a borrowed internet survey. I want to be able to look back at what I have written and remember how I felt when I wrote it, and right now, I can’t say that about much I have written.

So there you go, Internet. I am vowing to change. Well, I am vowing to TRY to change. Lay it all bare in a blog. Let go and throw it right out there for the world to see and pick apart.

Sigh.

Please be kind.