story time.

My friend got a phone call from another friend who told him this story (in a nutshell):

She's been dating this one guy for a few months. Things have been going great, he's active, great personality, blah blah blah. She has a successful career, owns a home, is really fit, more blahblahs. Basically, things are going well for these two love birds. He told her that he owns a condo up north, but has been sketch on answering questions like, "Who takes care of your lawn?" and "What's your interest rate?" Ok, let me interject for a moment that after only a few months of dating, these are kind of weird questions to be asking, but whatever. Right? No? I'm not in my forties, so maybe that has something to do with it. Did I mention that? They're in their forties. Keep that in mind.

SO she did a little research on the guy and somehow (give me a break... thanks to the graces of some wonderfully invasive Internet search tools) found out that not only do his parents actually own the condo, but they live next door. Wowsers. (He had been saying that they live far away... nice one.) It's one thing if you can't afford a home or were hit by the economic bitch slap and lost your home, but come on... man up. This reminds me a lot of the guy in Failure to Launch except for the fact that he was proud that his mom still did his laundry and was his alarm clock. Note to men: this is not attractive; however, if a girl likes you enough she might be able to deal with it. But what's more unattractive? Lying about it. Although I think it's weird that this lady had to do some Blue's Clues work, his situation was even weirder. Needless to say, they're no longer speaking. I hope she finds someone with a little more chest hair next time.

This ties into the whole Cougar-Cub thing. Sort of. When did the tables turn and women turned into the Sugar Daddies? I guess women are gaining power... thank you Rosa, Lady Bird, Cher, Oprah and Condolezza... I could launch into my whole theory on the internal submissive male sub-psyche, but that's for another day. :) I'll be honest, it does gross me out a little to see a coug out with her mancub. Call me what you will (a hippie maybe?), but I have no interest in plasticizing myself in order to score some cub-toosh in 25 years. Don't get me wrong, the thought of gravity taking its toll scares me to death, but that's life, right? Besides, I'd rather have crow's feet from smiling for 60 years and saggyboobies than look like the botox nightmares wandering around this country. I'm exiting my soap-boxy arena... now.

Africa.

Well I'm back babysitting in one of my favorite spots. I just put one of the kids to bed and the following is an excerpt from our conversation (interject several "OK now scratch my back. OK now rub my back. Now scratch. Now rub." while we were talking):

Her: "I can punch someone really hard."
Me: "You can punch someone? You know it's not nice to hit people."
Her: "Well... (sigh) yeah. I went swimming with my cousins in their pool."
Me: "Fun! Did you play a lot of games while you were swimming?"
Her: "Yeah...."
Me: "Where do your cousins live?"
Her: "Africa."
Me: "Oh. Africa, huh? Are you sure?"
Her: "Well, um, yeah... Who lives in Africa? Do you know someone who lives in Africa?"
Me: "I don't know anyone who lives in Africa. It's a long way away."
Her: "Scratch! OK now rub. Do you have friends? I have a lot of friends and you have only a little friends."

I love conversations with four-year-olds.

dorothy.

Some days I fall into this little "there's no place like home" funk and seriously, all I can think about is how much I miss my friends and family and the great state of Neb. I'm not going to start complaining because A. that's annoying and B. I love the Den, but when you're cool enough not to have plans on a Friday night, like me, a little homesickness isn't altogether unnatural.

Plus, in a week Husker fever starts. And if anyone doubts a Nebraskan's committment to Husker Football, they're complete idiots. During the fall, all normal activity unrelated to football is put on hold while a big red cloud encompasses the state. I've never seen anything like Lincoln on gameday and yes, I'm just as stupid about it as everyone else. And why? Because it's awesome. If you've never been, you couldn't possibly understand. I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I get goosebumps during the Tunnel Walk and have to try rrrreally hard not to cry when the planes fly overheard. That part is a little embarrassing, but whatever. Judge if you will. My mom still tells me I'm cool.

As much as I love it here, there are a few things I could use in my life including, but not limited to:

1. 934-934-934-934. Pool + Fiskaycoke buzzes + Craig's pot roast + Brady's flame-sided scooter + Frank headlining with Shithook at Duffy's + Sardinar's pecs...
2. Sorority rush. There's really nothing like hundreds--strike that, thousands--of screaming freshman girls running down the street in your direction then pummeling you with hugs, tears and thank you's. You're effing welcome we let you in the best house on campus. Now clean the floor. Jussssst kidding...
3. 'Screamer' camp outs. These little social gatherings bring a whole new meaning to TMI. And. I. Love. It. I could use a little recap of Baysoulandlandlandlandlandlandlaaaaaaaand land land right about now. And what I just realized is that there are only a few people who could understand what I just wrote and chances are... they're not reading this.
4. O Street shenanigans. I once watched a girl dressed up in a tiara and sash (bachelorette partayy) stumbling out of The Bar by herself, then playing pinball down the sidewalk before she face-planted, booty-crack exposed, life-in-shambles. And what did passersby do? They walked around her. My friend was kind enough to pick her up and put her back on her heels, but about 20 yards later, she was facedown assup in the bushes. Bless her heart.
5. Walking into my room to find my friend studying for a final with a stiff drink in one hand, hi-liter in the other. By herself. She's my idol. Naturally, I joined in the festivities.

So I guess tonight I'm working the merch table at the Fruit Bats concert... then tomorrow I'm going to their concert. If I'm not BFF with these fools by the end of the weekend, immabe one unhappy camper. At least give me a slap bracelet or something. Glow in the dark, please.

this made my day.

This is just too good:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYW6C44zo24&NR=1

Next time I'm sitting on a toilet, I plan on singing this song. Stall 3 better watch out.

current eventz.

I really don't know how people are thinking straight these days. I'm mean, let's be real here, it's not like the news stations are dishing us even remotely legit information. When I turn on the news (which is a typical default considering I don't have cable...), all I hear are a bunch of melodramatic tall tales told using wrongfully emphasized syllables. Holy shit, someone just give me one single fact. No embellishments, no corny bullshit. Just one fact. I don't even care what it is. For all I care, the anchor could look at someone's green jacket and tell his viewers that he's looking at a man in a green jacket.

Aaaand now I'm stepping off my soapbox.

Recently the headliners have included: Brett Favre's on-again-off-again antics, Dr. Laura calling it quits, and of course... an egg recall. Somehow these all seem uniquely linked. I'm not sure how, but use your imagination and I'm sure you'll come up with something.

I've never really hopped on the Favre train as many people seem to have done over the past, uhhh, 20ish years. Michael Jordan, yes. King James, yes. Maybe even a little Lance Armstrong. But Brett Favre just never really did it for me. I feel like he peaked when he made his cameo on There's Something About Mary. So now, 12 years later, he's doing all he can to keep his head above water. So what better way to get people's attention than act like a total flake? It's actually been entertaining to see how all of the news-y channels get a little moist in their drawers about it. Ohhhhmygawwwwd he's retiring! No wait, he's back! he's back! he's back! Breaking news: The Era of Favre is over. News to break the breaking news: Ohhh sonofabitch, just kidding, he's back for another year. I'll give the guy a few props for his epic arm, but for the love of NFL, just pack up your Nancy pants and buy a one way ticket to Scottsdale. Let someone else have their prime. And plus, now his teammates are speaking out against him. Think the Vikes are going to do well this season? Ha. Think again.

Ohhh Dr. Laura. It's about time you cashed in your chips. I remember standing in my dad's kitchen listening to the Dr. L show and thinking that this woman belonged in the cuckoo's nest. One of my biggest pet peeves is people who can't shut the eff up. And believeyoume, she had no clue what a warm cup of shut-the-hell-up tasted like. In her defense, she often said what a lot of people were thinking (but had more class than to actually say it) so I guess you could consider her a voice of the people. But to be frank, she was an angry old Ethel whose bigotry was the magic carpet of her career. And even though there's a teeny tiny, microscopic part of me that's sad that I won't get to read about another lawsuit filed against her loud mouth, I can only say good riddance.

Last but not least... there's been a recall on eggs? What? I just made an omelette last night and judging the rate by which foodstuffs are getting recalled, I'll more than likely wake up d-e-d tomorrow. So to make sure I had my facts straight I did a little investigating (thank you wiki) and here are a few of the more recent recalls I found:

1. April 2007: Nestle voluntarily recalled its "Caramel Kit Kat Chunky" bars and "KitKat Cookie Dough Chocolate" bars due to some bits of hard plastic being found in the chocolate.

2. April 2008: Malt-O-Meal voluntarily recalls its Puffed Rice and Puffed Wheat cold cereal products.

3. March 2009: Setton Pistachio of Terra Bella, California recalled its entire 2008 crop of pistachios due to salmonella contamination.

4. 2010: McDonalds recalled the Shrek Forever After cups due to risks of lead poisoning from the cups' paint.

And finally... 5. Most egg companies are recalled due to a salmonella outbreak on most of there eggs.

Hmm. So this brings me back to square one about the news. Dramadramadrama. I can promise you that there always has and always will be salmonella in eggs. Thanks to the lovely USDA, the amount of feces and pesticides we eat every year is a fantastically sickening number anyway, so what's a little sal gonna do? The only thing I'm worried about right now is the whole genetically biggie-sizing animals thing. There's a reason people are bigbodies... larger portions mean larger asses. 1 + 1 = Supasized. So can someone do us all a favor and just knock it off with the genetic processing nonsense? I promise you my smaller chicken breast won't taste any different than your bigger one.

pianos and politicians.

Ohhh good God I found a gem. I was reading stories on MSN today and, as always, was reading only the ones with the most intellectually stimulating titles like: "Woman fumbles $9,000 engagement ring awry" (I actually felt sick reading it. Poor guy.), "How to Build Muscle Really Fast," "Cats and schizophrenia," and "'Jersey' Star 'Snooki' Denied Trademark" (Toooo baaaaddddd Snooks.). As I was saying: intellectual. Amidst this crap, I found an article on talented celebrities... like it's such a big surprise that Condolezza Rice knows how to play the piano. Really? Come on. Among these celebs were... wait for it... the Singing Senators. Oh snazz. I die. I couldn't help myself, so I dove into some research on these schmucks and slap my ass and call me Charlie, one of the Singers is the one and only: Larry Craig.

For those of you unfamilar with Lar-Bear, these clues might ring a bell: Idaho. Men's bathroom. Tomfoolery...

Clearly it comes as no surprise that this douche was a part of a barbershop quartet. Before any barbershoppers get their foam hats all crumpled, let me interject the fact that I sang with show choirs in both high school and college AND thought it was cool, so I'm not judging... I'm merely stating a fact of showbiz, or whatever you classify cheesy singing groups as. But let me just say this. Combining a political figure with music is never a good idea. Leave politics in Washington and music, well, everywhere else. And why? Because no one really enjoyed listening to these guys, let alone having to look at them. Who really calls a group of middle-aged politicians with bad haircuts, bad make-up and bad vibratos "entertainment"? Maybe Janet Reno would. Or who knows... maybe on a good day Nancy P gets a little goosey about it.

I'm having a hard time saying this, but I'm almost thankful for L-bird's little bathroom incident because now the world has one less political barbershop group. So please, MSN, let's watch our words a little more closely. When you say "talented celebrities," you're better off just sticking to the basics: Lady Gaga (and that little kid who got a record deal after singing Paparazzi), Dave-John-Jack, THE Scarlet & Cream Singers and of course, John Stamos.

parking lot.

Within the past week, I've seen these two scenes in the parking lot of my gym. One causes me to go into turtle mode when I'm trying to find a parking space. The other... well, I'm pretty sure if they had a sign on the front of it saying, "This is where you belong," it would be like the pot calling the kettle black. Good stuff.

doug world.

So today I was at the mall and happened to wind up in a skateboardy type of store... in my pseudo-frantic "adult" life I seem to have forgotten that August is BACK TO SCHOOL month at the mall, so I was rubbing elbows with moms and their teeny weeny kids. And I'm serious about the teeny weeniness. Have you seen high school kids these days? I realize there's a big health crisis going on out there and childhood obesity is at an all-time high (1/3 kids are bigbodies these days... a special thank you goes out to: Philo Farnsworth, Sony, Frito Lays, Bill Gates, Laz-E-Boy and Little Debbie), but omigod, these kids made me feel like a giant! This was in part due to the fact that I was wearing heels (not to mention completely out of place in my "office-appropriate" dress/sweater), but also because I've just forgotten what kids look like during those precious pubescent years: Awkward.

There's really no happy medium for neither guys nor girls. They're either morbidly gangly or morbidly obese. It probably doesn't help that I compare people (in almost every circumstance) to the characters from Doug. For instance, every girl is either a Patty or a Connie. (Side note: I always discount Bebe because she was a huge biatch who no one liked because all she did was whine and flaunt her daddy's pocketbook--no one liked Bebe.) Patty was super gangly, the object of Doug's affection, and undeniably popular. Connie was a little chubbier, a little more shy, and too nice for her own good. I always thought Skeeter and Connie should hook up. Anyway... For guys, it's either Chalky (I think that's his name) the almost-jock or Doug, the epitome of a teenage guy. Who didn't love Doug, though?

As I was walking around feeling like Betty White in Loompaland, I encountered every single character from Doug. Mostly it was a bunch of Patty's in tiny tank tops and shorts that barely cover their not-yet-developed derrieres and Rogers in their trying-really-hard-to-be-badass skateboard brand tees and skinny jeans.

Standing in line I might have been eavesdropping on a conversation held by two teen guys buying a skateboard. There were sooo many "shit dudes" and words their mothers would smack them to the moon and back if they heard... I began to lose count. These guys were definitely Dougs. A group of Patty's walked by and the guys launched into their assessment of how girls dress. This was a real treat. They were talking about the fact that girls only have two looks: "They either go all out and look smokin' hot or they don't do anything to themselves and just look bummed out." I quickly did a once-over of myself and decided that I was closer to the smokin' hot category than bummed out, only because I was dressed up for work (default win). More often than not I'm a bummed out girl, according to the Dougs' standards... I consider this my contribution to the maintenance of sociological standards. If there were no bummed out people in this world, then how could these Dougs rate anyone higher? They would just accept the fact that every Patty was bummed out. They'd never have a chance to see a smokin' hot Patty (or Connie for that matter) or to see that a bummed out Patty can look just as good as a smokin' hot one, all things considered. It's just another one of my efforts toward the greater good. Small sacrifices create big return, people. I'm just another Patty in gym shorts.

kickball champs.

As some of you may be aware (and let's be honest, when I say "some of you," I'm referring to the 4ish gracious people who appease me by reading this thing...), I am on an adult kickball team and the funny thing is that it's with a national kickball league... who knew, right? Well, our team got progressively better throughout the season and this Friday we're playing in the finals. So in order to pump up our team, one of the guys sent this out and I couldn't just let it sit in my inbox. I can recognize brilliance when I see it. I hope you can too. Enjoy.

"Ladies, Gentlemen...

Throughout the course of civilized society, there has been one constant battle -- the battle between good and evil. What you might not know, however, is good and evil are mere subsets of things much larger -- the decent and the douche bag. That's right, this game on Friday is not merely a kickball game, but a life and death battle in the million year war of righteousness.

These light blue c*cksuckers are the worst kind of people. They spit on quarters, throw them on the ground, and laugh when people pick them up. They give titty twisters in a desire for blood. They slash bicycle tires. Hell, I saw Captain America feeling up that screaming homeless black guy a few weeks ago.

Now us on the other hand, we are the champions of justice, and we dispense this justice through our legs, agility, and brains, just like our forefathers and foremothers. We are Gandhi. We are Martin Luther King. We are Sparta, the Romans, and the Navy Seals in an Irish Green package. But most important of all, we have pride.

I know most of us are lukewarm about our last win due to the means taken. Yes, I feel horrible for bunting. It's cheap and weak and forces every team to create the creepy catcher position. Hopefully, we'll be playing well enough that we won't have to resort to such a shyster tactic on Friday.

There is a terrific plan we will be using on Friday when their creepy catcher comes up to lay down his bullshit bunt. We are going to shame him into kicking. So the plan is when he gets up, we are going to call a noticeable timeout and announce "He can't kick farther than two feet, we need to swap out our catcher," and have someone from the outfield, Brian or Kelly, take over for Diana at catcher. He will have to kick it after we do this.

I don't have any inspirational movie quotes to get you all pumped up, but I will say this, every time you see a guy in a flat bill hat and wife beater, that's our opponent. Someone with an American Flag lapel pin, that's our opponent. Girls who made Justin Bieber and Twilight popular, those are our opponents. They wear crocs with socks in public. They are guys wearing girls' jeans. They puke Smirnoff Ice all over the bathroom sink and refuse to clean it up. They steal from orphanages, kick puppies, club seals, claim gay weddings destroy the sanctity of marriage and then cheat on their wives, and worst of all, they are the ones who provide the funding for the team that makes the Scary Movie spoofs.

To put it as bluntly as I can, these are horrible human beings, and we are going to lay down a rueing so awesome it will make Sodom and Gomorrah look like a slap on the wrist."

Take that, Rudy.

watch out wheel.

OK, so I have a confession... aside from my love of animals (sans spiders...), writing academic papers, skinny soy lattes and trips to the sauna, I'm an avid Wheel of Fortune watcher. To prove my point, last night at the gym I switched machines after seeing that Wheel was on TV at the other end of the room. Pathetic? No way. Clearly I was doing myself a favor by both exercising my mind and my body. Besides, it takes away from the boredom that is programmed into elliptical-ing. I'm not exactly sure where this whole obsession stems from because I distinctly remember sitting in my Gma Artie's kitchen and hating the fact that we had to watch Wheel instead of Nicktoons while she made dinner. Vom. But now... consider me a 75-year-old woman, because I lurrrrrv it. It's not like I actually enjoy Pat Sajak's terrible jokes, but I do love his social awkwardness. It's one of my most treasured indulgences actually. Not to mention the contestant interviews... they always either have a beautiful wife "Tracy," a wonderful husband of 14 years "Mark," and/or three amazing children, "Talon, Lucas and Bri." Last night one of the women admitted to being part of a "Drunko Bunko" club while the other woman was a retail manager who liked to... actually she was boring so I can't remember... do something insignificant in her free time. It was probably exercising or sewing teddy bears or something. This same woman won a puzzle later on in the show and got so excited she told Pat she was having a heart attack... then kept talking about it... and wouldn't shut up about it... the best part was that he completely ignored her and laughed into the camera while creepily putting his hand on the small of her back. Haaa... ew. The other guy, Kyle, who was constantly getting cheered on by Angie (it got a little weird), was just all sorts of ridiculous. He won two puzzles in a row with a whopping $750. Really? Pat even took the opportunity to take a stab at his measley winnings... then he turned around and up'd the amount to $1,000 beacuse that's the "house minimum." Meaning... after taxes and Pat and Vanna's cut of the deal, I'm assuming Kyle walked away with about $27.00 and a trip to St. Thomas. At least he'll be able to buy a mimosa on the plane ride over.

At any rate, I (secretly) desperately want to be a Wheel contestant. And guess what... I applied today. Don't judge. It's a little lame, but you know what's not lame? Winning $15,000 cash/prizes, then solving the final puzzle and winning a car/million dollars/or I'd even settle for the $25,000 that they like to play off as a small amount. Think about it. It could be awesome. All I have to do is cross my fingers that the WheelMobile will come through the Midwest and take a twentysomething little lady and she what she's made of... And trust me, I'd spell the shit out of those words. Aaaaaaaand that's what's up.